Growth

Sometimes I feel so down and worthless I ask the Lord, “Just take me away. Let me die, but please make it quick.” Wouldn’t that just solve all my problems? Bingo, gone.

Well, I know two things are at play here: one, be careful what you ask for, and two, God said, “No.” therefore, I trudge on, trust it gets better, and keep wishing on those stars.

Why did God say “No?” Because that would be too easy. Because we are here to learn lessons and grow. If God said, “Okay,” *splat,* what good would that do me? The way I see it, I would be doomed to have to come back and try it again till I got it at least semi-right. Starting over is a much scarier thought than just going ahead and facing what’s rest of my life, making the best of what I’ve learned so far, and applying it towards my growth.

Having the courage to carry on is not always an option, using it to your advantage, is growth.

 

When I was little, I wanted to do many things by myself, especially in the department of exploring the great outdoors. I was a great explorer. I wandered everywhere. I always remembered the way, and never got lost. Lucky for me, my family moved and traveled quite a bit; I always had new places to explore. I was a loner, and a lover of discovering my surroundings. In the practical world, my mother made all the important decisions for me, and that was fine, to an extent. She didn’t like my wandering off all the time, this was probably the only area of my own choice. I wanted to go, I went. I explored.

It was especially fun when I had a dog. Yeppers, a dog made it perfect. When I was very young, from before five, my grandparents had a little black dachshund named Mr. Chips. He was a cute, feisty little guy. I remember taking him for walks, we traveled extensively all around. I was happy. My grandparents lived in an apartment near Boys Town in Omaha. I would go to the perimeters of the orphanage and peer in and wonder. There were vast green fields surrounding the compound. I could barely see the buildings that housed the boys, but I NEVER, ever saw any boys. Why weren’t they out there playing, running and chasing on those lovely grassy fields? Chips and I will probably never know.

In the other direction from my grandparent’s apartment, down the road a piece (across the street) and past the fire station, was a beautiful green, tree-full park and golf course. My mom walked me and my little brother down to the park one afternoon. I must have been six or seven by time. After that, I remember going back—by myself—every day I was left with my grandparents. I loved it! I was happy. I would pretend I was a horse and prance and neigh and be corralled on this one particular putting green. I never told my mom where I went cause I wasn’t supposed to go across the street and all that way by myself, so I would just be “outside.”

There was a big grass lawn in the back of the apartment, and to the west, a small apple orchard. The farmer was mean and wouldn’t let any of us little kids in—I mean, he’d yell, scare the hell out of us, and chase us out—many times. It was easier to go through the orchard to get to the edge of Boys Town where sometimes when I played with the neighborhood kids, we would all hang on the chain link fence staring at the vast green plains and the other kids would tell me the boys inside were bad. They were orphans and had to live there. I never saw any boys, or any body for that matter. It was a scary place nonetheless. I was kinda thankful I was a girl. And I wondered long and hard, if you were really bad, did this make you an orphan?

I was happy in my travels. I was seven/eight when we lived in Alexandria, Virginia. That was my bestest place ever. We had a huge woods in the backyard of the three, four story apartment complex (pool and all!) My dad always saw to it we lived in kid-friendly (artist-friendly) places. Oh, I loved that explore. I was in kid heaven, though we didn’t have a dog at the time. But we had a Siamese cat named Charlie. Charlie had lots of kittens.

I have never grown out of that wanderlust—wanting new places to explore. More of the great kid friendly places I’ve lived later.

Part 2
So what is happiness? A warm puppy to adventure with.

Happiness and joy. I seemed to have learned that happiness is not all that other “stuff” I need. Because, I really don’t need it. I have tremendous means to get by with what I have… and looking around, I must confess, I have quite a lot. But I don’t need to be flashy or have to “keep up with the Joneses.” For instance, a few years ago, when it came time for me to get a new car. My husband (at the time) made plenty of money and had the means to get me a moderate, nice family-sized vehicle. But, the neighbor around the corner put a “For Sale” sign in the window of her ’68 VW bug. I was elated! I drove it around the block then handed her a check for $1000, a mere fraction of the cost of a new car. I continue to love my bug! It’s not flashy or fixed up, it’s just my bug. It runs well, I have a great mechanic, and I love it! Okay, okay, if I had my druthers, my dream car, I know, I doing the materialist thing here, would be an older VW camper van… just like the one I used to have, but my evil husband (same one for 17 years—now ex) MADE me get rid of it for a new SUV. I cried for a week. I’m sure someday, that van will come. And when it does, Herbie, what we call the bug, will definitely remain part of the family.. we’ve had some great adventures. Remind me to tell about the time Herbie went to Hawaii, or tried anyway. Talk about one’s most embarrassing moments.

Happiness is not about my car. I understand this. Just having a car is a gift. (Even if it is a really cool, little bug!) Happiness is taking the dogs for a walk on a Sunday morning, or a Tuesday afternoon, or anytime. Happiness is a warm puppy.

Ever notice how happy your dogs are? Yes, some dogs will pout, or are truly mean and nasty (hmmm.. I don’t know if that’s truly of the dog’s choice). They all have their personalities but no matter what, they love you, and are happy to see you, always!

I have a dear dog, Rosie, a nine year old Golden Retriever. (Actually, I have three dear dogs.) She is overweight, itchy and has arthritis. Sometimes she has difficultly getting up, and you can tell she’s in pain, but when one of us comes home, or enters the room after a bit of an absence, she is always happy and smiling (YES, dogs do smile!) and wagging that furry tail of hers! She is never mad at me because I can’t cure her ailments (we do try) or if I accidentally step on her or trip over her, or leave her at home by herself. If I’m sad she’ll sit by me. She’s one big sweetheart. Happy to be alive. And always ready to catch the ball.

The other dogs too. Sheba, a husky/Shepard mix, bred to be a sled dog. An alpha-female, beautiful blonde, and sharp as a whip! She would have made a great sled dog, but I’m sure glad she’s not and she’s here with us now. Sheba’s a talker. The neighbors say she hears me coming before I turn the corner down at the end of the block. She starts in on her welcoming howl. A singer she is. She is always so happy to see me come back, even if I go out in front just to water.

Sheba is special. An Iditarod wanna be/reject (they don’t know what they’ve missed). My sweetheart rescued her when she was about a year old. She was half-starved, full of mange and muck, and homeless. He saw her beauty and nursed her back to health. She is now 11 years old and in great shape. Wanna get around the block fast on your skateboard, she’s your dog! Kinda scary sometimes, she pays no attention to stop signs! She and her daddy have been living here with us for about two years now. I love them both very much. Happiness is a warm puppy’s daddy. Come to think of it, if it hadn’t been for Sheba and the remarkable way she interacted with her pa (excuse the upun), I probably would not have taken notice of the man. Thanks Sheba.

Happiness is being able to sit down and write about happiness all day!

I’ll save Dustie’s story for later. I am so happy to have him too! This dog choose us! He’s so cool. I can honestly say, always happy… oops, except when there are fireworks! Yipes!

All my dogs, through all my years, have great stories. I hope I can record them all in time.

Part 3
Yesterday evening, my sweetie and I set off to make a quick trip to the grocery store. I was driving and headed towards the nearest store in not the most beautiful part of town. The sun was going down and the whisper white clouds were gentle and many, looking like a many birds, or angels, all flying towards the sunset. I was in awe, and found it difficult to drive as I wanted to keep watch. Suggested going to the other store, in the nicer part of town instead, as it is up on a hill overlooking the ocean. I didn’t hesitate to change course. The angles were pink and orange now. I surprised my fella by passing the grocery store altogether, and headed down the hill to my favorite beach/lookout in the whole wide world. We pulled over, got out and watched the end of a most glorious day. We looked out over the high tide, and I reminisced about all the many, many days and nights I frequented that beach, slept there, hiked miles up and down with my favorite dog; I would live there if I could. How I truly love that place. It used to be free to go down and park day or night, but now it’s a state beach and they charge $7 just to go down and park and it’s only open from dawn till dusk, with a real person standing watch at the top. It’s a shame. I used to go down every morning before work and reflect for a few minutes, now it’s impossible, unless I walk.

Anyway, it was so lovely, and we both enjoyed the time, however brief immensely. Happiness is a warm sunset. Happiness is forgetting the well laid plans of mice and men, and doing exactly what your heart desires and needs at the moment.

Happiness comes in so many forms... no need to waste any of it.

 

Courage.

Name one fear you would like to conquer. Embrace your fear with kindness and delve deeply into it. Write down what you discover about this fear. Where did it come from? Why do you hang onto it? How has it held you back? Finding the source of the problem allows us to deal with it effectively and permanently. Don't allow this fear to control you any longer.

At one time I was afraid of grasshoppers. Not so anymore. At one time I was afraid to ride in elevators. I’m okay now. I think more I “grew out” of these fears rather than overcame them.

I think my biggest fear, and perhaps greatest desire, is recognition. I hate to be noticed. I want no part of social events. I have talents, yes, many of which are mediocre. (There I go, putting myself down again.) No, they are not mediocre, they’re pretty good, however, I do what I do for me. They make me happy just like that. I am satisfied with the level I have reached… and although, I know I am still growing and improving all the time, I am content.

My sweetheart, on the other hand, is a natural showman. He has been a professional musician, traveled around the world displaying his talents. He is a builder of fine string instruments, a master wood craftsman, a master shipwright, and is very proud to show off his work, as he well should be. I am very proud too.

Why can’t I be like that?

Because, I’m not. I am shy and super sensitive. I have learned that shyness is as inbred as blue eyes or blonde hair. I’m not nearly as bad as when I was a kid, but I’m still shy, and I still have blue eyes and blonde hair. I don’t like loud noises, bright lights (except natural sunlight), artificial scents—ugh, easy on the perfume, please! Cotton or silk only—and no fancy dress-up. No sauce, please, to drown my food. And I don’t like to be noticed. My outside likes it simple perhaps to protect the very complicated and vast inside.

So, back to the courage to come out of my shell.

This cocoon has been tightly wrapped around me for nearly 48 years. I’ve learned to live with it, but I have made no success of my life. I do not have a career, nor, sadly, do I know what I want to be when I grow up. Right now, I want to say I’m just a frickin’ loser, but I’m not a loser, I have so much. I’m merely lost. Lost in my own little existence. I’m afraid to be… me… in front of other people.

Why the heck the heck should I care what people think? I know they won’t criticize or shun. Most people will wish they could do what I do. I often think, though, that because I can do it, so can everybody else. If it’s easy for me, why shouldn’t any one else be able to do it just as well, if not better! No need for me.

So I keep plodding along, hoping to find my place. Sometimes it takes courage just to finish the day. Or even wake up in the morning.
Courage. Giving up is not an option. I’ve tried it in some respects, I found it really doesn’t work.

Courage to fly.
Courage to be me.
Courage to step beyond my simple boundary.
Courage to move ahead.
One more step
One more time.

 

Motivation.

Choose a project or idea that you may have put off, or have just not felt the ambition to finish. This can be something small and simple, or a more complex plan. Work through any blocks that are present, which are keeping you from being motivated enough to complete the task. Record these feelings, leaving room for follow up. Later on come back and review this entry, making note on how your perceptions changed etc.

Choose a project you may have put off, or have not felt the ambition to finish….

Oh, I’ve got a big one. One that’s been riding my conscious for months. I do need to finish this project. It’s so close to the end, yet so far away. The project is a novel I’ve been working on with a friend. I was so gung-ho in the beginning and wrote like a fiend. It seemed I could write no wrong words. It was fun and it was all I wanted to do. But my friend, co-author, was hampered by his lack of a personal PC. (Is that redundant?) He balked and it took him almost a year to finally come up with the means. In the mean time, at least for several months, I continued to work and edit, still excited about the venture. But by the time he was ready to continue, I lost the spirit. His attitude was fresh and he was raring to go, but the story line turned into a direction I became unable to relate to. I became frustrated. I read and reread the passages. I forced a few chapters, but I wasn’t happy. Now what? My friend continues to pressure me but I feel no direction, no connection.

Perhaps I suddenly know what to write. Yes, I think I have it!

Well if this doesn’t beat all! Thank you Journal, Spirit Guides and Christin. I’ve got a bit of direction… at least for a chapter or two. Off I go….



 

As I sat and wondered what to write about the power word "wonder," this came out...

Wonder

I wonder…
Sometimes too much,
Never, not enough.
I wonder what will come to pass,
What it will be like,
What it would happen
If…

If you were an elephant
And I were an elephant too,
Elephants are extraordinary lovers,
But hard to hide, it’s true.

Or an eagle
Would you still love me?
Would you ascend and soar with me,
Or would you simply fly?

If the house were painted green
Would I still love it?
My eyes brown instead of blue,
Would I see the world differently?

I wonder if we sailed to France
On a little wooden boat;
Would the sails hold up to thunder
Or avoid heaven’s revolt?

And pass we down canals and locks
In our little black berets,
Red striped shirts and dungarees,
Oysters raw, oui, s'il vous plait.

I wonder if the stars would shine
Just as bright as in your eyes
If the world were made of ice cream?
Would chocolate be the sky?

Wonder, wonder all day long
A past, a future, none gone wrong
Each day a lesson, each a gem
Wonder—life’s most precious song.





 

Calm.

Water. Flowers. Music. Quiet. Calm.
Trees and streams.

The ocean, though never calm, has a connection with me. Or rather I have a connection with it. I love the ocean. The water calms me. The ocean, so vast and strong, never stops, never gives up, and never gives in. I need much calm. Tranquility is my goal, my world, my inner sanction.

Trees are fascinating peaceful beings. Tranquility and knowledge abound from them. They strive to grow. They reach for the sun and dig deep to anchor their stay. Trees are my favorite drawing subject. Trees, I love them.

Sometimes it is difficult. I am a very private person, living in my very private little world. I have created my areas of tranquility, a beautiful back yard full of flowers and blooms of vivid color. And a lovely, dark, quiet, most enchanting bedroom, complete with fireplace and tranquility. But the difficulty comes when children, friends or lovers, become loud and interrupt my beauty. Not always, but sometimes. I enjoy the hectic at times… this allows me to enjoy the quiet when it comes. Today, for instance, is the first time in a long time that I am home ALONE! Yay! I’m loving it! Pretty music on the radio. My little parakeet happily singing along.. a mighty fine singer he is, too. The sun is just breaking through the marine layer, and the day is warm. I feel happy and content. Calm. Soon I will water the garden, then take a shower (more water).

Writing and poetry are also very calming and releasing. I am enjoying the morning journal writing and editing a couple poems I’ve recently written.

Playing the guitar, piano, or the banjo are great mood equalizers. Funny, when I get angry at my sweetie, I run in my tranquil room and play my heart out. It has a very stabilizing effect.

I think I can honestly say, I quite easily find my center. I know just where to look, and I seriously take to time to do so and go there.

Thank you, Angels who hover about me and guide me, I hope you feel your peace there too.



 

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Honesty.

To step back and take an objective look. What do I see? What do I see in me, the fool and the wise? So afraid, am I of being noticed. Afraid but longing for a bit of notoriety. I would honesty like for people to see me and say to themselves, “There goes that lady who does that wonderful stuff!”

Wonderful stuff, shall I define? I have many talents, though none to my perfection.

I am an artist, with a dusty pen and dried ink. All the pictures hidden away.

I am a writer, a poet, whose words are recently bottled inside. Whereas before they were screaming at me to let loose, now they seem content to just float in my cosmic reaches. Perhaps they are building up their stores, preparing for the next round of release? I have a novel that’s almost finished, but I can’t find the ending.

I am a songstress, of sorts. A musician of the lazy kind, playing for my own enjoyment. Writing songs no one will hear. Silly me, why can’t I just share? I can’t, I’m too shy, too embarrassed. I know no one will think less of me; in fact I really don’t care if they did. Most would actually wish that they could do something similar, and admire my efforts. Don’t you think? Yes.

I can pot a plant and grow a garden. I have a beautiful, tranquil place for me and my family. I want people to come into my backyard and say… wow! And they do. But I am reluctant to let anyone come in. I used to feel the same about the inside of my house, but it’s so thrashed by the kids (I’m definitely not the best housekeeper) I’m genuinely embarrassed to let anyone come visit. A new carpet and a bit of paint and a new sofa will help tremendously. These are on the list, yet not the top of my priorities.

There’s probably a few other things I do well, I’ll think of the later. Remembering is not one of them.

Oh, I am a calligrapher. I can do that and have done great work. I am honestly proud to say, my sweetheart and I collaborated on a project of his to build two garden gates for a client. He build beautiful redwood gates with lovely arched tops of his own design. His request of me was to draw an “H” on the arch that he would cut out as a personal, finishing touch. I drew a simple, but elegant “H” in calligraphy fashion. I was so doubtful that he could carve them out without ruining the gate. I really need to STOP doubting myself, and especially him, for he is a master artist with wood. They both turned out magnificently! I was more than impressed. He did such a beautiful job; the clients loved them. I am amazed that I was a part of the achievement. I did that. Why do I keep doubting myself? I can do it, and do it well.

My sweetie, knows this. He sees straight through my façade and though he’s very sensitive to my sensitivity, he pushes me to create. If he wants me to do something for him, he persists and doesn’t take no for an answer. He will follow me around with a pencil and paper till I just do it. He has much more faith in me than I do. He’s a good man. I love him very much.

Today will be a good day. Honestly.