Facing our Fears

Lately a lot of good people that I know have been getting pinned to the mat of life by some heavy trials. I’m stunned by the number of friends who are struggling in so many areas of their lives. Usually life will hit you in the wallet, or the heart, or your health. But it seems that these friends are being hit hard in multiple areas of their lives causing some to become really discouraged.

We all know that life has a cyclic rhythm, and that one day we may be sitting high on a mountain top while the next day we may find ourselves at the bottom of a very dark hole tossing ashes on our heads and cursing the day that we were born. When we’re in a dark hole we forget how amazing the mountain top was and visa versa.

I just came out of a very intense trial, where I found it hard to remember my truth. Everything seemed drained of color; being tainted with fear and hopelessness. When I was in it I couldn’t imagine being out of it. It’s like lying on the beach in July and trying to imagine a snow storm.

One of the things that I learned from this recent wrestling match with life was that the truth is always there for me to grab on to…as long as I don’t have my hands full of other stuff. This other stuff is usually fear. Fear is centered on loss and is our most formidable foe because it has the power to trigger so many emotional responses; responses like rage, jealousy, greed, pride, and even murder and suicide.

We’ve all read the headlines where some famous person, who seemed to have it all, embezzles money, screws up a great marriage, or dies in a roach infested hotel of a drug overdose, leaving us all left to wonder why. How could somebody, who seemingly had so much, come so undone? Somewhere in this person’s life they began listening to the lies of fear, telling them that who they were just wasn’t enough.

Fear likes to paralyze us so that we cease from being fruitful. It undermines our confidence and makes us doubt our gifts. You see our gifts are our weapons of love. We need them to fulfill our purpose on this earth. They enrich our lives with meaning and inspire the lives of others, lifting us high above this weary world so that we can see eternity.

I had one friend say that she felt like a fraud in her job because she felt so out of control in her own life. She said, “I’m supposed to have it all together. How can I possibly help others?” Oh really? Who has it all together? Nobody. If we had to wait to do anything until we had it all together we’d all be sitting around self-obsessing over our screwed up lives and nothing would ever get done.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: If life has sent a renegade sumo wrestler, in need of a breath mint, and a diaper change, to kick your weary ass…don’t you dare run! It’s times like these that are known to precede the greatest victories of all. Open your hands and let go of your fears, surrender your expectations for certain outcomes and trust that the absolute best result is coming your way.

Try living one moment at a time and trust that wisdom will speak to you when important decisions need to be made. Anything more than this is delusional: a mere attempt at controlling the universe, which by the way already has a director.

You’re being here is no accident. There is a loving plan and purpose. Trust in this and your life will improve. Oh, and then pour some wine, blast some good music, and dance till you drop! What? That always helps me;)

Always Reaching For More

Change, and not the kind that jingles in your pocket, is a fact of life. When children grow they change. Baby teeth fall out as adult teeth push their way through. High voices crack, hatching the full bodied alto. Smooth complexions erupt, and youthful faces wither. Change is the blood of life. Without it we would stagnate and die.

Unfortunately life is a grab bag, so you never know what type of change you’re going to get. You may pull some of the more sought after changes out of the bag, like wealth, happiness, or love. Or you may get a few booby prizes like, sickness, loneliness, or even death.

Luckily for us life seems to balance itself out, with the majority of events leaning toward the mundane. But don’t be fooled by the benign, and often friendly, beckoning of the mundane, because living in the prosaic routine of the humdrum is like walking though a labyrinth with all the exits sealed off. You could walk around forever and never get anywhere, depleting vital energy and wasting time….sometimes years.

Change may yank you back by the hair, landing you on your stunned ass, as spectators gather to gawk. Or it may lift you onto a pedestal so you can see for miles ahead…and everyone can see you.

Sometimes we plan a change, working toward goals, saving, pushing, and then at the end of the journey, after we’ve obtained our goal, we grow bored once again and search for more changes. We’re a hungry species, always reaching forward, and yearning for more.

I sometimes grow excited at the prospect of change. Just knowing that anything could happen at any time thrills me. But it also terrifies me because change is often random and much larger than I expected; like losing altitude and freefalling from 40,000 feet, and knowing that you’re going to die unless the pilot can regain control of the aircraft….which he usually does.

We are explorers and sojourners here whose visit is short. Within each soul is a voice calling us to do something permanent and magnificent. Perhaps, inviting change is the first step to obtaining that goal. It may require all the courage you can muster, but do it anyway.

I’m going to leave you with three things that I have learned from life thus far. Chew on them for a while before you try swallowing them.

1. Life is not for cowards.
2. Hiding will not prevent change from overtaking you.
3. When taking bold steps forward, the road usually rises to meet you.

Really Realistic Resolutions!

New Years! Resolutions made with good intentions…aiming at living right…living large….pushing forward and using my God-given potential as fuel to reach my goals. I have a shopping list of things I want to accomplish this year, although some of them are chronic…like a cold. Each year I include them and each year I forget them…usually by March. Losing weight is one such goal. When I was young I could eat a bathtub of French fries and not gain an ounce. If anything I was always too thin. But with bearing children came my womanly figure which included an over abundance of dimpling flesh accented with stretch marks. All the while my trim husband stayed that way; annoying the hell out of me. I’ve been engaged in the all too familiar battle of the bulge since then, and this year is no different.
Another chronic goal is to put off procrastination, but as you can see I’m simply procrastinating on procrastinating.
There are always new exciting goals that I want to complete. This year it’s querying agents for my novel. I look forward to doing this and will probably become so fixated on it that all my other goals will suffer. Funny how I only have obsessive compulsive tendencies with the things I like to do. I wish I could have a touch of OC with things like losing weight, exercising, and cleaning my house.
So, whatever your resolutions are, remember to be realistic. Only choose ones that are important…and attainable! If you’re addicted to cookies don’t ban cookies; simply adjust your relationship with them. If you’re unemployed don’t have a resolution to be a millionaire by 2012; find a job in 2012, and then take it from there.
I like having a spanking new year to work with. It allows me to have a starting point in which to make a fresh start in life. And if I screw this one up I know that chances are I’ll have the next year to try harder. That’s the beauty of the calendar; there is always another page to turn with a cute or inspiring picture to cheer me on.

Where'd My Mojo Go?

I’ve been feeling a bit insecure lately and asking myself….where’d my mojo go? I miss that youthful zest that came naturally to me, flowing like a foamy head of beer over the top of the glass.
I used to speak with persuasive fluidity, and feel the interesting pieces of conversation come together as I told my story. Now I stammer and search for the right words sounding more like a banker hooked up to a polygraph.
Although not stunning, I was always considered attractive and able to turn heads when I walked into a room. Now I feel as though I’m invisible.
When I smile my cheeks push up and crinkly lines surround my eyes like sun beams. So, I seldom smile, and although I look mad most of the time, I look ten years younger.
My hair is turning white and wiry, like one of those little terrier dogs; only I’m not as cute. Every couple of months I visit a trendy, and expensive, salon, where a spiked out 24 yr old girl with a Bluetooth stuck in her ear, giggles and chats away to her invisible friend while tugging and pulling at my hair like she’s in a corn shucking contest. When the entire process is over I hack up $100.00 dollars for the treatment, $20.00 for a tip, and when I get home nobody notices the difference.
My ample bosoms have headed south and I now resemble those topless pictures in the National Geographic Magazines that I use to snicker at as a kid. Gravity bites.
Where’d my mojo go… my magic essence, my touch with dancing with the world and the people in it? I need my mojo. My mojo is me with “attitude”.
Maybe that’s the key. Perhaps my attitude is off. Maybe I’ve been looking at things from the wrong angle. Like looking at the negative space around block letters, and all you can see are the shapes, but when you relax and find the positive spaces, you can read the word. That’s it! I have been looking at the negative spaces instead of focusing on the positive substance! Perhaps if I stopped skulking around like an abused dog and began to dwell on the positive things about myself my mojo might return?
Where’d my mojo go? No where. It’s just been waiting for me to remember who I am, whether the world agrees or not. My mojo is spiritual, not self-conscious or guilt ridden, and rests confidently in its ability to navigate through the twists and turns of my life. I'm the only one who has the power to turn my mojo on and off, and in the end I can count on my mojo to always be there to inspire me. Phew...I'm glad that's settled. What a relief!
Has anyone seen my libido?

Isolation Sickness

I think our society is suffering from isolation sickness. We live in our private homes, drive our fast cars, and work in our tiny offices, insulated from distractions and isolated from the happy chaos of life. If someone visits unannounced we grab the mace, and peek through the dirty little peep hole in our doors shouting “Who’s there!” like we’re expecting the Gestapo.
When I grew up we had an open door policy and friends were always welcome. There was usually a pot of coffee on and a card game in progress. Laughter was the sound track for most of these scenes, (unless my step-father was in a sour mood, then we would take the party elsewhere.) and it didn’t take an act of congress for us to decide what to do next. “Want to go for a walk?” was met with an eager “Sure.” Then off we would go with no particular destination in mind. We would walk in the sweltering heat of a city summer, or the stinging snows of a classic northeaster. It didn’t matter because we were always game for an adventure. We’d collect a friend or two along the way, and eventually wind up in a booth with a drink in front of us and our mouths full of interesting chitchat.
We mingled with people….real people, with skin on. Not muffled phone voices sandpapered with static or abbreviated messages texted in haste. There were real friends to hang out with and they were usually our neighbors; making them conveniently accessible. You could walk up a flight of stairs and be at a different kitchen table engaging in new rounds of conversation.
There was a certain tribal vibe to the old school way of hanging out. You belonged to a neighborhood and the people in it. If you didn’t like your neighbor you simply ignored them to their faces, and talked about them behind their backs, making sure that all the members of your tribe hated them as much as you did. But you didn’t stalk them, shoot at them, vandalize their cars, or steal their identity. Okay, so maybe you left a bag of dog shit, set ablaze, on their front porch and rang their doorbell, then hid in the bushes and belly laughed while you watched them frantically stomp it out.
But who wouldn’t enjoy that?
Any way, I miss hanging out with friends without having to set up an appointment a month in advance. Am I alone in this?

Tantrum Yoga

A friend of mine talked me into joining a beginner’s Yoga class with her, so I in turn cornered my friend Susan and bullied her into going too. For some reason I felt I needed numbers to do this because everyone knows…..there is safety in numbers!
This was a huge step for me because I hadn’t engaged in any real exercise for a couple of years, unless you counted my frequent trips to the refrigerator and the bathroom.
My knowledge of Yoga was zero, and except for the mental visual I had of Gandhi sitting sedately in the Lotus position, I was clueless.
The entire concept sounded, well….boring. I like dancing around, shaking my giblets to hard driving music. In my mind the prospect of going to a Yoga class was the equivalent of going to exercise church.
This was an early evening class, so I was forced to eat my dinner on the road, woofing down a steak and bean burrito that my husband had lovingly prepared for me.
I met the girls in the parking lot so we could all walk in together.
The room was quite pleasant, decorated in an eastern style, with the slightest scent of bamboo lingering in the air. The floor was draped with yoga mats of various colors, like towels on the beach, and an exotic instrumental was being mysteriously piped in from somewhere….maybe heaven.
We found a corner of the room with space enough for us to spread our mats. An easy task for most people, but we fumbled and bumped into each other, giggling like fools and fitting in like Larry, Moe, and Curly.
The room was crowded with poker faced women all in various stages of stretching. I eyed Susan, and mouthed over to her: “We don’t belong here.” She intentionally ignored me while gracefully assuming the mad cow position. Traitor. Sitting nervously on my pink mat, with my chubby legs painfully crossed Indian style, waiting for the class to begin, I felt the first burrito bubble seeking the easiest exit. Never again! Yup.

Ready for the Next Journey?

I’ve been contemplating my own mortality lately, which I blame on a run of unexpected deaths within my small tribe of family and friends. Since the beginning of time people have come and gone. It’s as natural as the sun, and the dirt, yet it still seems utterly barbaric to me; particularly the way some of us die.

Truth really is stranger than fiction, and if I were to write a book about a planet where people mysteriously disappeared, without a trace… forever, it would be considered an eerie science fiction novel. Yet, this is our reality. Nobody really knows where we all go when we die. I like believing in heaven, no more tears, like that baby shampoo, but I’m rather clueless as to what heaven really means. I comfort friends when they lose somebody, telling them how natural this cycle is, but I’m ashamed to admit that inside I’m really relieved that it wasn’t me or my loved one. This dying thing is totally unnerving.

The young seem nonchalant about death. Of course their bodies are still under warranty, just needing fuel and tires, but my warranty has long expired, and each morning I suspiciously eye my body in the mirror, hoping it will get me where I need to go for the day.

Some people live with death in mind, taking their vitamins, and avoiding the proverbial cracks in the road of life. Others dive in and tempt fate, trying such stunts as bungee jumping, or driving during rush hour traffic. Me…. I defy death in my own timid way; like ordering the double mocha choka latte in lieu of the skinny one.

My mother used to tell me that I was here to learn how to trust my God, love others, and be nice to mean people. Good answers. But when I’m lying awake at 2 am, rehearsing an argument that I will never have with my neighbor, because his dog won’t stop barking, these answers seem irritatingly cliché. Why go through so much trouble learning all of these lessons if I’m not going to use them for long?

Perhaps I’ll be using my acquired wisdom in some place more evolved? A heavenly place, not contaminated with the rage of hate, or selfish indifference. A place where acceptance is not based on appearance, or wealth, and love is spread generously, like butter on bread, and shared with every hungry soul.

Our planet is awe inspiring. It’s alive with creatures that move to a set rhythm, working toward the common goal of survival. When I see a tiny humming bird hovering at a bloom, carefully navigating a sip of nectar, it moves me to tears.

I’m fascinated at the nervous hesitancy of a gray squirrel approaching an open field, cautiously surveying the danger level, and then running like hell with its tail all wild and fluffy, until it’s safe again in the refuge of a great tree.

All of these things speak to me about the cycle of life. I often feel superior to the creation around me; perhaps because I can walk on two legs and have the ability to use hand tools, but in reality, I am small, and I must follow the same natural laws as the squirrel and the humming bird.

Right now it is my turn to walk this planet and then the next generation shall replace me. My footprints will fade as the tide of years washes over them, but I believe that my spirit will venture onward, strengthened by the harsh lessons of this journey, walking an unknown road to a distant land which some have named heaven. I want to live big, and from my heart while I’m here, so that in the end I can smile and say, “I’m ready for my next journey.”

Like The Weather...I Change

We’re under a tropical storm warning today in southwestern Florida, something I seem to have grown used to. It’s funny how I can adjust to the wild climate changes around me but if a driver cuts me off in traffic it totally pisses me off and ruins a perfectly good mood… instantly! Emotions are fickle, and like the weather, they vary daily. A lot of stuff can get thrown at me in a twenty four hour period, so it’s not uncommon for me to experience dozens of “mini moods” in one day. When things are going smoothly I feel sunny and optimistic. When I feel sad about something it’s as though the skies have darkened and the rain is falling. Nature reflects my moods back to me like a mirror, patiently, and sternly teaching me how to be. The sky doesn’t complain because it’s having a rainy day. It accepts it as part of life and submits to the changes… the constant changes.
I tend to beat myself up for having shifting emotions. I don’t like the feelings of being angry, fearful, or anxious. I see those feelings as the enemies of my soul and signs of spiritual weakness. But experiencing intense emotions is not a weakness. It’s very human. My emotions are simply responding to how I happen to be thinking about the things that are going on in my life at the time. Beating myself up for having all these emotions is totally fruitless and only perpetuates my emotional storm. It’s when I recognize my emotions, and I allow them to blow through my soul….in one side and out the other, like a breeze blowing through an open window, that I get release. I needn’t bottle up every breeze that blows and brood over it. Everyone knows you can’t catch the wind; you simply must let it blow. I am old enough to see what triggers my emotions and young enough to know where to run to when I'm feeling undone. I need to find the quiet place within myself where I know my papa God lives, calm my thinking, and rest in His care. This is where I feel safe; safe enough to sleep through a heavy storm.