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Category Archives: joy rising

Weekly Photo Challenge: Resolved

flatscreen tv

Yes. My first photo challenge, ever, and I am submitting a grainy, less than perfect cell phone photograph. It’s a picture (in case you can’t make it out) of my darkened flat screen television. The manufacturer will probably be pleased you can’t read their logo. But it represents two interrelated New Year resolutions:

Resolved: I watch less; I participate more. I’m turning off manufactured, artificial, air brushed life and I’m turning on fun, scary, delicious, problematic, painful, joyous, outrageous real life.  Genuine people. Actual opportunities.

Resolved: I embrace imperfection; fear does not hold me back. Waiting until I can do something perfectly (as in waiting until I take a perfectly composed, perfectly exposed picture) means I waste opportunities to experience new things in life and I lose, sometimes forever, a unique chance to feel, to test my beliefs, to grow and to learn new things about myself, other people, other cultures, our planet.

What a difference a year can make. One year ago, to the day, I felt the fear and I did it anyway. I Googled WordPress and I opened an account. I started a blog.  Twelve short months?…but hundreds and hundreds of tiny baby steps, most of them imperceptible to a casual observer’s eye. I’m not looking back to see where I was, I’m absolutely savoring where I am. And I’m looking forward, with excitement!, at where I’m going.

Best wishes to WordPress and all my fellow bloggers

for a happy, healthy, and joyous 2013

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/01/04/weekly-photo-challenge-resolved/

Daily Prompt: Stroke of Midnight/ contented state of mind

Daily Prompt: Stroke of Midnight

Where were you last night when 2012 turned into 2013? Is that where you’d wanted to be?

Last night, at the stroke of midnight? I was in a contented state of mind. It was definitely where I had wanted to be…for more years than I think I’d previously realized.

My daughter and several of her friends with special needs gathered at a friend’s home for a New Year’s Eve party. A few of us parents were lucky enough to have been invited to stay – on the fringes, anyway. Continual friendly banter and peals of laughter filled the air all night long. There was great food, music, dancing, a hysterical game of charades, and over 300 party poppers set off outside, around a glowing fire pit.

Observing my daughter and friends having such a blast, as well as my sharing in the party atmosphere with the other parents made me feel happy, feel contented down to my toes.

One year ago I was on the precipice of finalizing my divorce. There was a tiny glimmer of light just beginning to be evident in the dark tunnel I’d been in for two years. I was weary, but I had hope.  This New Year’s Eve was hope realized.

Ripe — with possibilities!

In recent weeks, I’ve been picking lots of blackberries. The nature area behind me is covered with blackberry bushes, free to anyone who is willing to plow into the bramble and avoid critters who live there. Because I LOVE blackberries: raw, jammin’, or over vanilla ice cream…I’ve perfected a successful system that involves gloves, clippers, and a large, opened cardboard box :-)

In spending quiet time in such a beautiful setting, I became contemplative (as writers often do) and I weighed the evidence before me:  Same bush, same sunshine, same moisture… but each bush is covered in berries that are in all different stages of ripening. The berries seem to set on at about the same time, but each ripens at its own speed, even on the same plant, even on the very same branch.

At any given time, late June to early August, one can find some berries ripe and ready!…bursting with deep purple hued, softly plump little drupelets, while others are green or reddish in color, firm to the touch (and really really tart! if tasted, I might add).

People are like that, don’t you think?  Same age, similar environments. Sometimes originate from the very same “vine” even… but different ripening schedules.

I’m giving up trying to figure out how/why some folks seem to progress faster or slower than others to that mature, purple hued glow.

I’m striving for mindfulness, for acceptance – of others, of myself.

We ripen on our own schedule.

Whence comes the clutter?

I’m on a clutter-busting mission.

And I have Shakespeare in my head.

‘Strange bedfellows’ you might be thinking. Or not…since that phrase is yet another darn bit from some Shakespeare play. Well, some of us are cursed blessed with bits and pieces of long ago memorized paragraphs of literature that come shooting across our mental bow at weird times. And, my dear friends, Romans, countrymen who are lending me your ear…you know who you are.

OK. The anti-clutter/Shakespeare mashup:

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous disorganization,
Or to take arms against a sea of clutter,
And by opposing… end them.

I choose to BE

So it’s time I take arms against the sea of clutter. I’m tired of the slings and arrows raining down on my parade. Not to mention, my head.

My first step is identifying. I’m starting a list and will be adding to it periodically.

I invite you to feel free to contribute your own entries to the pile.  With or without any Shakespeare.  I’m planning to eventually host a virtual bonfire with the discards so they don’t lay around and re-clutter.

In no particular order, some of the things that are cluttering my “space” are…

* paper. Any time two sheets of paper gather in my girl cave, unchaperoned?…they immediately slip away and multiply like rabbits. Receipts. Recipes. Warranties. Marriage memorandums. Etc. Kept out of worry I’ll “need it some day.”

* “I should ___________” thoughts.   These are the really ridiculous shoulds that I’m only going to be able to pull off in a perfect world, when the moon is permanently blue and we’re all enjoying ice skating on frozen-over hell.

* the whatchamacallit, gotta-give-this-to-so-and-so items, sprung from good intentions, that have found a home by my door

* “They shouldn’t be doing that” thoughts.  They are doing it; I’m only responsible for what I’m doing.

* food that I shouldn’t have bought, but now feel guilty about throwing out. Toss. Don’t buy again.

* gifts for people I didn’t really want to buy, bought anyway, and then didn’t get around to mailing

* gifts I’ve received that aren’t ’me,’ that don’t fit, or that I don’t use on a regular basis

* pine cones. bags of collected pine cones. I grew up tree-deprived and have been trying to make up for it ever since. They’re not going to turn into peanut butter and bird seed slathered bird feeders; I need to release them back into nature.

* “I’m too ___ for that” thoughts. [inserting various adjectives such as old, frumpy, unskilled, uber-responsible or "proper" ].   I. am. not.

<dusting off my hands> Well…that’s a start!

From whence comes your clutter?

A glass act

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Believe it or not, one of the first phrases that was drilled into my son’s head when he became a Marine was “Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!”  I’m not saying there weren’t MANY other things drilled into his head in the Corps…but I am not exaggerating when I say I think that phrase would be in the top five. Without question, that training served him extremely well during his three tours in Iraq. Good son ♥ that he is, he taught his MM (Marine mom) this useful phrase, early on. It will still pop up in conversations every now and then, years later.

Water is my friend. A really, really important friend. But for all my awareness about the importance of hydration, sometimes I still abuse that friendship.  My body usually begins by gently saying, “Excuse me, water please!?”  If that goes ignored for too long, the head begins to throb and all the other body parts, both within and without, begin to dry out, gasp, and complain, each in its own individual way.

Before my divorce, in the house we lived in, I had the luxury of a water filter which (I evidently hadn’t truly appreciated) had greatly enhanced the taste and smell of tap water. In my girl cave (aka apartment), I am without that luxury. The taste and smell of the tap water isn’t horrendous, but it is just enough that I ‘notice’ it, however slightly, each and every time I grab a glass full of water.

I’m not buying bottled water. I am not only trying to be Green as possible but I’m also trying to keep my green as much as possible. And I’m not buying a pitcher filter system that has to be replaced every week. (ditto, same reasoning).

Which all amount to excuses. However, the body doesn’t do well, living on excuses (and without adequate water intake), for too too long…

So, recently, when I asked myself the question, “What is one thing you can do, right now, that will make today (and tomorrow) better?” the answer was quite simple. And actually pretty l-o-u-d (picture drill Sgt, screaming in my face) :   “HYDRATE. HYDRATE. HYDRATE!!!”

So it was time for solutions, not excuses. The answer? Restaurants do it all the time! Easy – economical. Why didn’t I do this ages ago??? I buy two lemons and a cucumber at the grocery store. At night I’ll cut either a couple of thin wedges of lemon or a couple slices of cucumber (or both) and float them in a pitcher of water.

The result? The next day, the flavored water is actually something I really enjoy drinking.  Cost? About $2 a week…and about 2 minutes of self discipline, each night.

After use, I often cut up and freeze the lemon rind pieces. I’ll throw a couple frozen lemon pieces with an ice cube or two — grind in the disposal — and the girl cave plus the disposal smells nice. :-)

Both of us blossoming

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appreciation, sunshine, water and love

This is a photo update to my march post, “Rescuing plants, rescuing myself.”

My rescued hydrangea continues to brighten my days and my patio and the anthurium continues to taunt my cat, Callie.  I’ll soon be repotting both and I’m hoping the anthurium will be thrilled with its new pot, and new spot, hanging from the ceiling, instead of hanging from from the bedroom closet door. :-)

Thistle not come your way again

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breathing in nature, breathing out stress

The awareness that I’ve suddenly begun to feel absolutely and totally overwhelmed has been such a frequent and unwelcomed companion for the past few years, that I sometimes don’t even question it. Whenever it arrives, it’s the gigantic elephant in the middle of my mental living room. Don’t ask!! Don’t talk about it!! Don’t even question it being there.

But I did question it this morning. I asked myself what changed between the moment when my heartrate was at a normal level…to the moment, only seconds later, when my heartrate was in the upper stratosphere. (because the elephant likes to come over and sit right on my chest)

Why did he arrive? The answer is nothing new; the environment was ripe. It’s fear concern about the future sprinkled liberally with ’OMG’ thoughts about the present circumstances staring me in the face.

I’m tired of hearing, reading…even repeating to myself, over and over, that “I have the key.”  Why, if I have the darned key, must I evidenly be keeping it safely tucked in a drawer somewhere and not using it?!?? Somehow, some way, it must be that “no pain, no gain” thing again.

Today, however, I went and got that key and started looking at it, thinking about it.

What is one thing I can do…to make today better than yesterday?

OK, self:  “What is one thing – however small – I will do, to make today better than yesterday?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do.”

<sounds of a struggle>

“Fine!!!  I’m setting a boundary around my walks with my dog.”

“What????”

It didn’t seem like much of a step, at first. But immediately after I said it, after I mentally committed to it, I began to breathe a tiny bit better for doing so.

In recent weeks I had begun to let family and friends come along on these walks. They weren’t there in person, mind you, but on my phone. It didn’t seem like a problem. But I’ve figured out that this change has been affecting my mental attitude, my patience levels.

As typical of their age and lifestyle (so I’ve been told by friends), my children often call me en route to wherever they are headed next – driving to or from work, on their way to run errands, etc.  Up to this point, I had made it a priority to pick up their calls, whenever and wherever, in order to maintain as much contact as possible.

But I realized that my walk times with my dog are unique and precious times, not only with her, but also communing with nature, with God. And they are irreplaceable. The brief moments in my day spent in this beauty and peacefulness pass by quickly, not to be recaptured. When I have my mind on an outside conversation, I am walking in nature… but I am not present.  I’m unable to absorb all the beauty around me – the sights, the sounds, the smells.

When I’m out walking and truly communing, I almost always begin to feel gratitude bubble up within me. My heartrate is in tune, my patience cup is refilled.

So I have prescribed a ”new”…a former…regimen for myself, to alleviate my symptoms of feeling overwhelmed :

(1) take two walks a day, no phone calls. be present. inhale deeply, slowly…exhale

(2) drink a glass of water upon return

(3) get your list out, choose a step, even a baby step in a positive direction… and take it

(4) lather, rinse, repeat.

P.S.  There’s a slight implication that the first picture is thistle, when it’s actually clover blossoms. But once the title came to me, it wouldn’t let go. :-)

A new leash on life, lesson 3

For all my efforts to begin thinking and living outside the box… my most recent pup lesson has reminded me how joyful and exciting and, yes, freeing, it can sometimes be inside the box.

This week, they created a small dog park where I live. I had been told there was one in the works when I was shopping apartments. It didn’t really matter to me, initially, because I associated a dog park with lots of dogs :-D and, truth be told, for all my dog’s wonderful and awesome qualities… she does not always play well with other canine children. The reasons behind this are varied: part inexperience, part submissive personality (which, a dog trainer explained and I can attest, is not to be confused with passive) from having been the runt of her litter….but probably mostly attributable to a freaked out OCD mom loving, but at times irrationally overprotective, moi when she was a young puppy. From Callie’s tutelage (her cat ‘mom’) she does, however, do very well with the cats in the area who approach her. Go figure.

So, fast forward. There is now a smallish enclosed fenced area that will be a full fledged dog park, by some residents’ standards, once the water source is operational and they get the bench in (I assume this is for the humans? :-D  For now, it’s just a nice fenced in grassy area located in a spot where a few residents used to routinely let their dogs off leash.

In addition to our long daily walks,  I’ve taken Keeva to the new park three times. Each time, she enjoys herself more… we both have enjoyed ourselves more.  And, as usual for my writer’s brain, I have been stepping outside this picture and contemplating my potential human application.

Regardless of the time I’ve driven or walked by the area, I’ve not witnessed any dog parties in the park, but, instead, individual owners with their respective dogs. And they’ve all been doing what Keeva and I have been doing, once in the park…which is playing, to our hearts’ content, in a safe area where there is no worry about an errant dash across a busy street or the approach of a dog-fearing jogger or bicyclist. She plays fetch almost endlessly (this may have something to do with that last word in her breed, labrador retriever). We play keep-away and our version of tag… we romp around like we were, both, years younger.  ♥  And, no, I’m not ashamed to say that I openly admit to “romping” at my age.  :-D

Many boxes, self-imposed or other-imposed, are stifling and breaking out of the box is to find true freedom. But I’m learning that sometimes, when it is of our choosing,  utilizing a box can be useful. Sometimes a box is simply an area, defined by healthy boundaries, which can actually empower by the freedom created, within.

A new leash on life, lesson 2

* a departure, of sorts, from my usual musings…this post has spiritual/religious overtones. be forewarned ♥

I think my dog is brilliant. I am quite certain that had she been employed as a rescue dog or drug sniffing dog  she would have gone really far. As it was, she was called to a different life… that of rescuing my family. Or, that is what she’s done thus far. I’ll confess that there exists a part of my brain where I entertain the notion that, once Keeva settles down some more (she’s ten but thinks she’s only three), she may yet become one heckuva therapy dog, helping comfort and uplift the elderly. And, contrary to my kids’ definition in this instance, I’m meaning more ‘elderly’ than myself.

One of the more functional things I’ve taught Keeva is to physically respond to my saying “other way”  when we are out walking. I can say it in a gentle way, a matter of fact way - there is never a need to yell or scold.  I say this to her when we are walking along and I go one way and she goes the other way …around a tree, lightpost, bush, or fire hydrant.  Sometimes she notices this herself and corrects, but when she doesn’t, I just say “other way” and she turns around and comes back around the object to join me. I don’t ever take this for granted and I praise her each time.

Friends have long commented that Keeva is one really smart dog because their dogs, and other dogs they’ve known, have never learned this particular feat. I haven’t weighed out, in my mind, whether this is mainly intelligence, whether it is just from repetitive puppy training – or, probably the most likely answer, that it is the combination of both.

Lately the practicality and the impact of this useful response has been reverberating inside me. I see the application in terms of my own life… in terms of who I perceive God to be.  I have been going through a series of life experiences in the past two years, particularly marital separation, divorce and the loss of a parent, that have resulted in transition, a new awakening.  I have begun looking at life with what feels like just-opened eyes, seeing new and previously unexplored opportunities around me, before me. I am, for the first time in thirty years, unfettered and completely free to choose for myself. And I am, slowly but surely, losing fear and guilt and empowering myself to explore my environment with confidence, with enthusiasm, and with an open mind.

My faith is one of the areas I’ve begun to explore with more freedom, more confidence. I have stopped looking heavenward, fearing a direct and immediate lightening strike, when I have dared to touch my toe outside of the very traditional religious ‘box’ in which I have lived. This has been frustrating to some of my family and friends. They love living in the box. They know, without question, that the box is where I need to be. But I know, deep down, I must continue this exploration. Letting loose of that fear has been work…and my pace is sometimes at barely a crawl. But I’ve had some amazingly refreshing, soul-comforting conversations with God….my Source, my higher power,  in ways I never have before. I’ve griped. I’ve cried. I’ve questioned. I’ve thanked him for this beautiful world. I’ve meditated. I’ve sang to him. And time and time again, I’ve asked him to be with me, to continue to give me confidence to expand my understanding, to continue growing my acceptance and peace.

Last week, making a decision during a particularly stressful time, I began leaning on my old instincts. And it was then that I clearly heard God say, lovingly and without judgment…  “other way.”  There was no feared lightening strike. And there were no heralding trumpets, either. There was just peace. It was the awareness that I am walking the path I need to be walking. And the comforting knowledge that even if I don’t see I’m heading off that path… I can trust that if I am open, if I am listening, I will absolutely hear “other way.”

Castle Spice err freshener

With Eau de Wet Dawg cologne hanging in the rain laden air,  my “delicious girl cave” has technically smelled a little less than delicious. It’s also been reported a time or two that Callie (my cat), while a fastidious groomer, has some perhaps less-than-delicious scents associated with her occasionally, as well…  The latter data has been submitted from non cat lovers, however, I’m not completely throwing out their observations.  And you’ll be relieved (or astonished, depending on how well you know me) when I report I didn’t throw them out, when they made them. ☺

Over the weekend I decided to improve the air quality of our girl cave. I try to be “green” whenever I can and also try to keep green in my wallet whenever I can… so I absolutely rebelled against spending money to purchase man-made sprays or plug ins designed to give me something that is best described as chemical, intense, and the opposite of their touted “natural” sounding names and promises.  I grabbed a small pot, filled it with water and boiled together the rind from an orange, about a tablespoon of whole cloves and two cinnamon sticks.

An dear old friend ♥ taught me this little homemade remedy years ago and she used to call her concoctions “Castle Spice.”  I was thrilled to realize that since my humble abode is much smaller than a castle ☺ the wonderful, wonderful aroma quickly and awesomely surrounded us almost immediately. So simple. Natural. I had my delicious girl cave back! Afterwards, I refrigerated the royal sounding nectar. I’ll be pulling it out to simmer again as the rains returneth.

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