How Things Are

Driving home from Florida the last couple days, my thoughts went to relationships.  They are what confuses, frustrates and hurts us so.  I believe this is especially true of extroverts.  After all, we get our energy from outside ourselves.  That means other people. 

There are work relationships.  Some are easier than others.  There are platonic relationships.  Those are the easiest. Less expectation. Then there are the romantic (?) relationships.  Therein, lies the work. But the work isn't on the relationship.  The work is within.

The best relationships I have seen are the ones that take time to develop.  Neither party is in a rush.  They enjoy the present.  They enjoy the now.  They set parameters. They enjoy themselves in the process.  That is key.  For other people are always our mirrors.  They don't..can't...shouldn't...be responsible for providing us what we feel we are lacking. That is our job. 

Some folks respond in a hurtful way.  We know intellectually that is all about them. Their pain.  Their work.  Unfortunately, our egos kick in and we think, "how dare them."  Egos can be destructive.  Our egos. 

Many years ago,  my father was walking into my brother's second wedding.  My father and I had no relationship; he had a marginal one with my brother.  Standing alongside his wife, he spent about fifteen minutes in the gathering hall before the wedding. People were standing about chatting.  Being.  As was usual, my father, a longtime civic activist and fantastic at bringing people together for a cause, stood in the corner.  But this time, he was not the center of attention. 

He turned to his son, my brother, the groom who was about to marry and told him he was leaving.

"Nobody talked to me."

My brother was deeply hurt. Our father had walked out before. When we were in our teens and he was divorcing our mother to marry another. While it was a good decision for all of us, the walking out part was all too familiar.  Painful.

My brother was once again a teen.  His eyes welled with tears.

"Everyone had to grow up.  Why can't Dad?" he said.

"It was MY wedding.  Mine.  My day and he couldn't even be a grown-up.  Just once."

For my part, I didn't care.  Dad took care of everyone else but his family.  I didn't know any other way with him.  While I didn't like it, I allowed him to be who he was. 

Thoughts.  Actions.  Pain. Storylines.

Why can't people just be...like I want them to!

It isn't what happens to us, it is our thoughts about what happened to us.  Ode to Epicletus.

But here is the rub.  We can pick and chose, for the most part, the people with whom we wish to spend our time.  We can also get caught up in the storyline.

A friend wondered how I could be friends with Xavier.  Fully self-involved, rarely compliments anyone; she is a caring young woman.  You might question how the two distant aspects relate.  They do.  She wants to care for people but she doesn't want them to get too close to her.  Her pain body is usually on high alert. I enjoy my time with her. I don't expect her to be like me.

Living with myself on the side of a beautiful mountain, there is little to disrupt me.  It is a about going within, no sensory overload, just nature, just me.  Off to my thoughts however they appear.  I have a choice.  To let them consume me, or to live my best life.  Cliche?  Sure, but the clock is ticking.  It is just how things are. 

The good news is that as we age, we become more introverted.  Need less from others as we have found a way to access it from ourselves.  It was always there.  Maybe we just didn't know where to look?

Could you be the one you lost? Focusing outside yourself?  Creating storylines that never conclude.  They are always the same.  The tale of how we got hurt.  We always have a choice.  Things happen.  People happen.  Words and thoughts happen.

It is just how things are.

Through The Looking Glass

Finding your safe spot.  Comfort.  Speaking your truth. Testing for readiness.

Recently in a bodywork session, the therapist and I spoke of those spaces.  She mostly listened while I was the student of bodywork, the teacher of chakras. 

"We are on the cusps," I told her.

Defining that space where we feel safe enough to say where we are.  Where we are willing to risk everything to speak.  It doesn't matter that THEY hear us; it DOES matter that we do.

A friend spoke about a relationship they were having.  They were terrified of where the relationship might go - more importantly that it would end.  In the conversation about their experience with that person, most of what they spoke of was the person's limitations.  In truth, they were also afraid of self-discovery - their own.  Sharing their inner worries with another.  Exposing themself. 

The interesting thing about all of this is that if we can't truly expose ourselves, when the time is right, how can we ever hope to have relationship...with anyone? Significant other or platonic friend.  It simply doesn't work that way.

Take a risk. Take it slow. Get to know the other person.  If they don't come back, they aren't meant to.  Just know in getting close to someone, don't give away the store. That comes in long term friendships. Over time.  They don't need to know about past relationships.  That is your business and stay in it.  Or, if you are ready, let it go.

You will know who your true friends are. That is what partnerships are about - intimate ones. They are there when you need them.

There are lots of relationships.  Some just ride the carousel. They look and they look. They hop off for a while to play, never fully expecting a serious grown-up relationship.  They aren't grown up.  They aren't ready to evolve. And that is more than okay.  It just might not be where you are.

Some are exploratory.  That is fine if you need to explore yourself. Further. 

So pay attention to what your bodymind speaks.  Listen.  Obsesrve your abdominal and throat chakras.  They never lie.  This moment is all you have. Honor youself.  After all -

“I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

My People Are You

I don't get it.  True, I was born in a cosmopolitan, ethnically diverse state.I never asked where anyone from from.  I was an original, a native to Maryland.  I spent my first thirty-six years there. I was an anomaly for few of the Baltimore-Washington community are natives.  But they get there as fast as they can.

I have had the pleasure of living in small towns and outside large cities since athen.  I have also met a variety of fascinating people.They have no boundaries and many are from outside the United States.  They come here for a dream.  An openness. Jobs.  Schools. 

What I have experienced is this. Most small towns tend to be insular.  That is, they don't cotton to 'strangers', outsiders, new people, definitely new ways of thinking and being.  It takes a while for them to let you in. 

In the north, there is a certain coldness when you meet new people sometimes.  Once you make a friend, they are friends for life.  In the south, people are generally, instantly friendly. Often the first question you are asked is, "where are you from?"  Until I moved south, I was never asked the question. My family of origin would call that rather impertinent.  Assumptive. I ponder it and the sensibilities associated with the person asking it. 

I call it curious.  Further down in the conversation I am further asked if I am local.  I am now.  I wasn't considered local for the first year. Tragic for them.  Freeing for me.

In reading a political blog yesterday by an author I always felt to be progressive, I was a bit taken aback.  Insulted.  She wanted to know, "who are your people?" as though it was a pass to get in.  Understanding from where she comes, I will let some of it slide.  She spoke about the ethnic make-up of the state. The make-up of the North Carolina congress. And understandably, she wants it to reflect the concerns and wishes of the people who live here.

I have been lucky to be socialized in places where that doesn't matter.  People don't need to place you, label you or define you.  They accept you because they accept themselves. Isn't that really the issue?

My world consists of anyone who is in it.  I don't care about color, ethnicity or the like.  My people are everywhere because we all share the same DNA.

My people are you.

Run Popcorn, Run

I've been reading about Popcorn Sutton recently.  He was one of my heroes.  A moonshiner, hiding from the revenuers and pretty successful at the escape. I liked that he did his thing.  He seemed like the real McCoy.  Until.

Until I learned he played to the masses.  It was said he was quite the con artist.  An entertainer, a man who capitalized on being what his audience wanted to see. 

Oh, the selling out of the southern Appalachians!  It pains me so.  But we loved Popcorn.  His spirit,  his determination.  His secrecy.  And, the recipe.

Yes, he was...WAS my hero.  He blindfolded tv crews and took them to his still.  Wore the bibbed overalls and requisite plaid shirt.  Now let's not forget the full length DUCK DYNASTY style beard. And his 1940s hat.  That's the  kind of hat fitting for the well dressed man about town. 

This writer believed Popcorn was the real deal.  A simple man living out his fantasy.   But rather than serve an eighteen month sentence for making moonshine, he married and committed suicide (so we are told).  Now we are told he played to the audience. 

Check out the trailer:


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inbmJy0xJgk

It's been over five years since he passed.  This writer is disappointed but hopeful.  Hopeful to find the real deal.  Somewhere.  Someone who doesn't play to the dollar.  But in the end, Popcorn ran his own show.

The Gift

One of my favorite sayings is,

"No one gets out of here alive."

Chekhov wrote that "life is essentially tragic."  Do you buy that?  It resonates poorly with me.  Always has.  Kind of a half glass thing.  But is it really?

Let's consider the facts.  We all pass.  Every living thing does. Is that tragic?  Maybe.  But it is the nature of living things.  They pass.  They are not forgotten.  Energy is always encoded into other forms. That we can't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

Forms changes.  We know that from chemistry class.  So what is the issue?  Fear?  Thich Nhat Hanh say it well:

Free from Fear - Thich Nhat Hanh
When we are not fully present, we are not really living

Our greatest fear is that when we die, we will become nothing. Many of us believe our entire existence is limited to a particular period, our "lifespan." We believe it begins when we are born-when, out of being nothing, we become something-and it ends when we die and become nothing again. So we are filled with a fear of annihilation.

But if we look deeply, we can have a very different understanding of our existence. We can see that birth and death are just notions; they're not real. The Buddha taught that there is no birth and no death. Our belief that these ideas about birth and death are real creates a powerful illusion that causes us a great deal of suffering. When we understand that we can't be destroyed, we're liberated from fear. It's a huge relief. We can enjoy life and appreciate it in a new way.

When I lost my mother, I suffered a lot. The day she died, I wrote in my journal, "The greatest misfortune of my life has happened." I grieved her death for more than a year. Then one night, I was sleeping in my hermitage-a hut that lay behind a temple, halfway up a hill covered with tea plants in the highlands of Vietnam. I had a dream about my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, with her hair flowing down around her shoulders. It was so pleasant to sit and talk to her as if she had never died.

When I woke up, I had a very strong feeling that I had never lost my mother. The sense that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just that: an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother was still alive in me and always would be.

I opened the door and went outside. The entire hillside was bathed in moonlight. Walking slowly in that soft light through the rows of tea plants, I observed that my mother was indeed still with me. My mother was the moonlight caressing me as she had so often done, very gentle, very sweet. Every time my feet touched the earth, I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine alone but a living continuation of my mother and father, my grandparents and great-grandparents, and of all my ancestors. These feet I saw as "my" feet were actually "our" feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprints in the damp soil.

From that moment on, the idea that I had lost my mother no longer existed. All I had to do was look at the palm of my hand, or feel the breeze on my face or the earth under my feet, to remember that my mother is always with me, available at any time.

When you lose a loved one, you suffer. But if you know how to look deeply, you have a chance to realize that his or her nature is truly the nature of no-birth, no-death. There is manifestation, and there is the cessation of manifestation in order to have another manifestation. You have to be alert to recognize the new manifestations of one person. But with practice and effort, you can do it. Pay attention to the world around you, to the leaves and the flowers, to the birds and the rain. If you can stop and look deeply, you will recognize your beloved manifesting again and again in many forms. You will release your fear and pain, and again embrace the joy of life.

The Present Is Free from Fear - When we are not fully present, we are not really living. We're not really there, either for our loved ones or for ourselves. If we're not there, then where are we? We are running, running, running, even during our sleep. We run because we're trying to escape from our fear.

We cannot enjoy life if we spend our time and energy worrying about what happened yesterday and what will happen tomorrow. If we're afraid all the time, we miss out on the wonderful fact that we're alive and can be happy right now. In everyday life, we tend to believe that happiness is only possible in the future. We're always looking for the "right" conditions that we don't yet have to make us happy. We ignore what is happening right in front of us. We look for something that will make us feel more solid, safer, more secure. But we're afraid all the time of what the future will bring-afraid we'll lose our jobs, our possessions, the people around us whom we love. So we wait and hope for that magical moment-always sometime in the future-when everything will be as we want it to be. We forget that life is available only in the present moment. The Buddha said, "It is possible to live happily in the present moment. It is the only moment we have.

From the forthcoming book Fear: Essential Wisdom for Getting Through the Storm by Thich Nhat Hanh Copyright © 2012 by Unified Buddhist Church. To be published on November 13, 2012, by HarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission.

Thich Nhat Hanh is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, teacher, author, and peace activist. He lives at Plum Village, a meditation center in the Dordogne region of southern France.

And that is the present. The gift.

But What?

Many years ago, I was asked why I write.

"I write so I can breathe."

Being a Scorpio isn't easy.  A friend once commented:

"You have so much passion."

Life is just exciting.  Well, most of the time.  It hasn't been too exciting recently.  But that will change.             

E.O. has a new book out.  http://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/11/science/in-a-window-on-eternity-edward-o-wilson-finds-a-paradise-but-says-more-are-needed.html?ref=science

I can't remember a time when I haven't read, E.O.  His optimism fascinates me.  I wonder how he does it.  Most of my life, I have been an optimist.  Well, cautiously optimistic.  I always see possibilities.  In things, in people.  But lately, I have been frustrated.  Maybe it is the ranting on social media.  Mine included.  I am on there less and less.  Included the computer.  It does allow me an interesting forum in which to write.

An environmentalist friend mentioned at lunch today, that he is rarely on the device.  He loathes texting.  In fact, he refuses to answer it anymore.

"They can call me," he says.

I must agree on that. It is mostly a hit and run.  But I reminded him that once upon a time, people wrote letters.  More detailed, I suspect.  So texting is simply a short, extremely short version of it.

Back to the passion.  Or the lack of it lately.  I am ready for the next phase.  But what?

What.

Home

My grandfather was in WWI.  My Dad was in the army.  My mother was in the Women's Auxiliary Corps.  My uncle served in the South Pacific in WII.  And my stepfather was in the Marines at Pearl Harbor.  Forty years later, my mother took him back.  He didn't want to go.  Too many bad memories.  But he was glad he went.  It closed so much for him.
 

I have issues with the military.  It is all about war.  Wasted money, wasted lives.  We are always in one war or another.  The innocent believe their country is at risk.  News has historically been withheld from most of us.   People go because they love what our country stands for. 

The latter isn't true too much anymore.  It pains me to say that.  We have a lifetime, a history of being lied to.  I grieve deeply for the families whose lives are forever changed because those in power are too plain greedy. It is never enough for that kind of mentality.

Even the police are wearing military uniforms these days.  SWAT teams.  Storm troopers.  And I struggle thanking people for their service.  I want them safe.  Unharmed.  Un-served.  Home.

Home.

What?!

Purple.  Definitely not blue, definitely not red.  Purple!

At a recent get together with a bunch of friends, several of us began talking.

"Yep, the kids are on Medicaid," the young farmer said. 

"Medicaid?" inquired my environmentally active friend.

"Both kids," the father said.

"They paid for everything.  Pay up until they are five.  We don't make enough to have insurance."

He went on to say since his social worker wife quit to have the baby, their income has really dropped. 

It may be irrelevant to mention the young mother's father is a well known lawyer, the young mother's mother is a nurse. 

Medicaid.

I have a real issue with this.  Why is it so many feel entitled to have babies and have the taxpayers foot the bill? If you can't afford children, wait until you can.  It isn't my responsibility.  It used to be yours.

But this doesn't end here.  It is ubiquitous.  People feel entitled to munch off the public coffers.

Enough I say.  Enough!

Where I Live

Recently someone wrote on Facebook about the election results in my county.

"We've been F****ed," they said.

Well, I refuse to be a F***ee!  Nope.  No way.  There is always light beyond the clouds.  Always and that is where I shall live.

I am a Scorpio.  As such, I feel things deeper, have advanced intuition and can read people quite easily.  It has always been that way, but now it is becoming more so.

Generosity matters.  Cheapness is one of the things that really turn me off.  Like going into a restaurant and having the coffee shortened, or the soup shortened.  You get the picture.  Petty, yes - on both ends.  But cheapness goes to the heart.  It says no one matters.  What is really going on is that THEY not you, not me, don't matter.  They never have enough.

Lifelong I have always been appreciative.  Appreciative of friends and family.  I am lucky to have life this good. Today, post election, I remember so many things I love.

In no particular order, here are some of them:

1.  My grandson running up to me jumping in my arms
2.  Butterflies
3.  A call from a friend
4.  The morning sun
5. Going to bed
6.  Fresh sheets
7.  Cooking smells
8.  My dog greeting me
9.  Kindness
10. Organic grocery stores
11. Birds at the feeder
12. Memories of my children growing up
13. Observing growth in family and friends
14. Sunsets
15. Coming home
16. Painting a watercolor
17. Meals out
18. Cuddling under a quilt
19. Good service
20. A head of hair