"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Eleanor Roosevelt

Some time has passed since I have added to my blog and it is not without reason. I love writing and as I mentioned before it is really a very therapeutic creative process to sift through the thoughts and feelings that this precious life of mine evokes each and every day. Like any other creative process it does not go without vulnerability. I realize that I take a risk by exposing the inner crevasses of my heart, mind and soul. In the weeks passing since my last blog many of you asked when I would be writing again. Thank you! I am glad that I can make you smile, laugh or reflect. In my life, there have been many who have taken a risk, exposed their vulnerabilities and shared their souls and I am so grateful because they made me smile and reflect. I chose the quote today because someone tried to take this from me and I almost allowed it. I nearly allowed it until I realized that they couldn't, not without my consent. I am not sure why we do this to each other and I am even less sure why we allow others to do it to us. I only know that we each get to decide for ourselves how we live, whom we love and how we serve. Above all, hold self love superior and consent only to that which you fully agree.

Dining with Ducks

This weekend I went to dinner and took advantage of what is left of warm autumn weather and chose to enjoy my meal outdoors. It was lovely, a beautiful table positioned next to a fountain and a pond a quiet ambiance and a duck...a duck? It was so cute, little orange webbed feet, bright blue feathers on its wings. It just waited for me to throw a morsel, a crumb his direction. I gave it a small peice of my garlic toast which it seemed to like. My friend on the otherhand had a more sinister plan, he fed our feathered friend a peice of chicken. OMG, that is just fowl. Ducky seemed to enjoy it though, was that like some form of canabalism? It made us laugh, does that make us just sad? Dining with Ducks...

"Checque please... oh...just put it on his bill"!

A Human Life is a Story Told By God

A human life is a story told by God. ~Hans Christian Andersen


Much has been written about our human existance by people much wiser and with much more knowledge than me. Tonight I am reflecting on how many try to avoid life with as little pain as possible. They will do most anything to keep themselves safe, protected and cushioned from the emotional obstacles that life can offer. I see them put on their Sunday best every day, clean and pristine and sit on the sidelines to keep unmarked, fresh. I am not judging but only to say I want to live my life dirty, messy, I love rolling in the mud of everything this world has to offer and tomorrow I will wake up and put on another clean appearance only to end the day with stains and grit. Isn't that why we are here? I have to believe that my creator had some plan for my being a part of this all and I have to believe that whatever s/he hopes me to learn or accomplish is going to be more difficult when I am not participating. I love participating, I love feeling, and growing and learning, falling and pulling myself up again. I love shedding the old and recreating the new, I love this life I was given. It is a gift, my human life is a story... it may only be interesting to me but along this journey I have stopped at the intersections with many and they are a story too. We are all a story, some long, some short but I want my story to be a drama, a suspense, a mystery a comedy a tear jerker, I want my story to be something I decided to co-create rather than pages of words that just blindly move along. What will be the story of your life?

A family still lives here

Childhood memories of hot summer days and nights that seemed to go on and on forever. Sitting next to Grandpa, on Dads back, in the rocking chair next to Grandma. Fishing, camping, canning, strawberries, and chocolate covered peanuts. Girl Scout camp, marching band, choir and vacation bible school. Adult memories of soft pastel blankets, smells of baby powder and applesause, tiny sticky fingers. Carving pumpkins, cookies and milk, yellow buses, valentine boxes, tiny white envelopes, candyhearts, construction paper and paste. First jobs, cars, boy/girl friends, test passed and failed smiles and tears, decisions, vocations. Vows and flowers, kisses, dances celebrations and beginnings.

Today, I want to say to the world... hey! A family still lives here. they live in my memories, in my children, my parents, my grandchildren... in potroasts and chili, in concerts and decorated packages, telephone calls, birthday cards, hospital visits weddings and funerals... a family still lives here in my heart! my family still lives here.

The Tangled Heart Necklace

Have you ever wondered about jewelry? I always find it a mystery how it can be in a rather protected place and yet when you choose to wear it, it can get all tangled and knotted and wrapped around each other. I sometimes wonder if it is like the toys in "Toy Story" when you are not looking there is some kind of a signal and all your jewelry starts to do a conga line and weave in and out of each other. Tonight I am feeling the same way about my heart. It is a mystery to me how I can have my heart in what I believe to be a fairly protected space, and when I am not looking it can get all tangled and knotted and wrapped up so tightly with situations and people that I just don't know how or when it happened let alone how to fix it. Like my jewelry, it is difficult to undo the mess...it is similar to untangling jewelry you need to let it get really relaxed and you must be in a very patient mind because to try to undertake this task when you are in a hurry or upset it just lends itself to more frustration. My heart is like that too. When it is tangled and knotted, I have to allow it the space to relax and move my spirit to quiet so that I will have the patience and understanding to undertake the challange of repairing it. Hmmm my heart, my jewelry, an interesting similarity. My Heart Jewelry, tangled, knotted, fragile... all but broken, if I am too hasty in my attempt to fix it the chain may disconnect and permanently separate. Better to sleep, and quiet my mind and undertake the task tomorrow.

Word Mandala

Have you observed the beautiful masterful art of the monks when they create a sand Mandala? The colored grains of sand organized in designs and swirls that creates something so beautiful. When the design is complete they empty it away and it is gone forever, never to be created again. Gone!

Tonight I captured some very profound thoughts. Thoughts organized around codependency. I shared memories of a joke I heard, "what did the codependent see when he was on his death bed? Someone Else's life passing before his eyes". That joke, propelled me to reflect on my mothers illness, my mortality and a sharing of my own experiences as they related to codependency. I wrote about how I willingly allowed my life to become so entangled with another, about being sucked into the vortex of their life, a vacuum that propelled me. I wrote about what a dishonor it was to loose my anchor and to assert my weight upon the sails of another. I captured how important it is for me to give of myself but to maintain my independence, and I wrote in that final paragraph... the climactic thought that when I leave this planet the life I see flashing before my eyes HAD DAMN WELL BE MINE! and then, I do what I do, I put someones needs ahead of my own, to return a phone call that could have waited until my thoughts had been fully realized and in the touch of a button POOF .... it was all gone! All my thoughts, all my words... all of my feelings. My spirit felt realizations disappeared, I couldn't recapture them. While I am telling this story, another was created. My thoughts, my feelings, my words... a Mandala, How symbolic! The lesson, that the lesson isn't over, my codependency has deep roots and by not paying attention to my life, I discount it. If I want the life that passes in front of my eyes at my death to be mine... I had better damn well be paying attention. My word mandala, swept away, How profound.

Parking Out Of The Lines

I believe everyone has their little quirks , strange things they do... the beauty of our relationships with others is that they put our quirks front and center so that you are sure to see them. If I hadn't anyone close to me I may not notice that I don't screw the lids back on jars, I may just grumble under my breath, when I have to pick out the pieces of Kleenex because I forgot to take them out of my pocket before I did the laundry, but no one would be the wiser. Other useful realizations include my dislike for the ends of pickles, spiders and insects with more than 4 legs, my refusing to drink water unless it is cold or with ice , and the fact that I am directionally challenged. I have also become aware that I announce when I am going to the bathroom, (comes from the years of children yelling for me when they couldn't find me), I leave Kleenex in rolled up little balls under my pillow and I don't like to eat a meal alone and I sometimes can't remember what I went into the room to get. You may have encountered that vehicle in the parking lot that is parked over the yellow lines , I have a confession, it could be me.

Most of the quirky things I do are outside of the lines. I have become desensitized to them. Having others in my life helps me challenge myself to be better. It would be easy if I only had to answer to me, but It would also facilitate complacency. Being a part of a relationship, a family, community or team keeps me accountable to others and essentially to myself. It is through this process that I can evolve and grow and always have a list of things to work on.