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Minutes of Unrest

Good one from Think Smarter (Twitter) this morning:

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My husband and I watched 60 Minutes last night. I have a love/hate relationship with 60 Minutes, because I love the unique stories that the show presents, yet the show really stirs me up emotionally. Too much. Last night, I felt muddled wondering if mining our ocean bottom is really an answer to prayers and a wonderful, vast, unexplored resource, or the last natural environment on Earth that we have left to destroy. I just don’t know. And then the story about Sesame Street making a special TV show, especially for the children who have grown up in tents in refugee camps in the Middle East (miraculously, many of these tents have satellite dishes), touched me to tears, but then, it also made me sick to my stomach, imagining one child, much less thousands, growing up in those fields of desperation. I then found my thoughts wandering over to my shallow side, getting hypercritical about Lesley Stahl’s earring choices and her moppy hair style, which spurred me into some curiosity about Lesley’s age. Lesley Stahl is 77 years old!! She is still an interesting (because she, herself, is curious and interested), sharp, objective reporter. Lesley Stahl has written a book about how much she loves being a grandparent, and she and I share the exact same birth date. Shame on me. Lesley Stahl can wear her hair and her earrings any damn way that she wants. Lesley Stahl is awesome. Simply awesome. Back on the pedestal, she goes. (See, I told you, 60 Minutes puts me in a conflicted state of mind, which is not a restful way to end the week.) 60 Minutes should NOT be aired on Sunday nights. But, it is a good contrast to and break from football . . . . . and then, the conflicted mind continues on and on and on . . . .

Sunday Soul

I’ve been haughty and I’ve been humble.

Humble feels better.

I’ve been valid and I’ve been vulnerable.

Vulnerable feels more connected.

I’ve been smart, salty and sassy.

But that was all to cover and soothe

My sweet simple soul.

I dined by myself last night.

Table for one.

It was

Delicious.

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” – William Wordsworth

“Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. ” – Thomas Gray

Readers, I’m feeling like today is a good day for poetry. Please take the time to write down the poetry flowing from your heart today and please post it to my Comments section, if you have the inclination. Love, peace and poetry are my wishes for you today. Tranquility.

Conversation Starter

My youngest son called me up the other day, with a nervous tone in his voice. One of his best friends from high school, a boy whom we all adore, but who definitely has some wilder tendencies, was visiting my son at his university last weekend. (they go to different schools) I held my breath wondering what my son’s confession was going to be, and I instantly was wracking my brain as to what the boys might have gotten themselves into, in their youthful exuberance.

“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” my son stammered.

This is the time in the conversation when I wanted to scream, “Just spit it out, dammit!!” Many times in previous years, I have screamed those very words to all four of my darling children, during times of high hormonal content in my bloodstream mixed with bad sleep from the previous night, but this time, my son actually caught me at a calm, post- relaxing, meditative moment, so I remained quiet and patient.

It turns out that my son wants to change his major to a less practical major, one which really interests him much more. Phew. Exhale. Sigh of relief.

“You could NEVER disappoint me, except in moments that you would deliberately hurt yourself or hurt other people from bad intentions and actions,” was my first and instant response. We then had a nice conversation, weighing the pros and cons of his decision to change his course of studies. Me, being the forever dreamer/optimist, focused a little heavy on the “pros”, whereas his father, who is visiting the boys this weekend for his brother’s annual fraternity “Dads’ Weekend” and is far more practical and level-headed, will probably focus a little bit more on the “cons”, when he has breakfast with my youngest son this morning. (My husband and I balance each other out quite well, in that way.) Still, in the end, it is my son’s decision with what direction that he wants to take his life, and I trust that he will find the right answer for himself.

“Honor thy father and mother” is one of those biblical edicts that has caused stomachs to churn for centuries. It cropped up in my head, as I felt the disappointment in myself, that my son feared talking about his major change with me. Everyone has a different idea of what “honor thy father and mother” actually really means. Now that I have been a parent for almost 24 years, I have seen this edict from all different angles and I feel more firmly in my ideas about that edict, than I ever have before.

My husband and I chose to bring four children into this world. We did this for us. We wanted the experience of parenting. We wanted to build a family together. My children’s beautiful souls graciously accepted the challenge of being our children, despite not asking to be born. They have fulfilled their commitment to us, by allowing us the magnanimous experience of raising them. I am honored. I am more than honored, by that fact. I am utterly grateful. I hope to have a satisfying relationship with all of my children and their families for the rest of our lives, but that is up to all of us, as adults, to be healthy, considerate, loving people, who have and who accept healthy boundaries – people who anyone would want to have a satisfying relationship with. When we are adults, it becomes a mutual thing. There are no “shoulds.” I am not a selfless martyr. I chose to have my children. I also have a life outside of my family and that is important for all of us, for all of our ultimate growth experiences in Life. I do not care to have any relationships with any other people that are heavily based on fear, guilt, control, obligation or shame – not my children, not my husband, not my extended family, not my friends, not even with myself or with God. I choose authenticity. I choose healthy Love.

I think that it is very sad to use the Bible to make excuses or pardons for inflicting our ugly behavior (without repentance), the kind of negative behavior that we sometimes and most often, inflict on the people who are the closest to us – the people whom we love the most. I read something recently that said the true way that we honor our parents and our family name is basically, by not being a jerk. We dishonor our parents by leading lives filled with deceitful, criminal activities. “Honoring” speaks nothing of the intricacies and delicacies of a mutually satisfying relationship.

I know that not everyone sees things the way that I do. I am comfortable with that. I love the variety in this world. It has taken me a long time (probably most of my life) to figure out my current life philosophy and I understand that this current philosophy is more than likely to evolve and to grow and to change, as I do. The people whom I most intimate with in life with, are also in the ever-changing process of growth and unfolding. I respect that. My conversation with my son this week, spurned a lot more thought, introspection, and contemplation than just my opinion on his career goals. It is said that relationships are “people growers” and I like to think that my son and I both experienced some healthy individual growth from our conversation. This individual growth helps the garden of our relationship to continue to bloom in a healthy, satisfying way for both of us, a relationship with its roots being firmly planted in the deep, rich, nourishing soil of authentic Love.

The First Five Days

Haha...couldn't have said it better.

But Friday is the easiest of those five days!!! Happy Friday!! Happy Favorite Things Friday!! New readers, it’s always casual Friday here at Adulting – Second Half. We stay in the shallow end on Fridays. I refuse to enter the inner depths of my indoor mind pool, on Friday. On Friday, I typically list three favorite things, websites, products, foods, songs, etc. and I encourage you to list your favorites in my Comments section.

I typically think of a favorite thing during the week, when I am using something, perusing somewhere, or snoozing, in my bed. Then, I write those inspirations on my calendar to remind me to share them with you, my beloved readers. Unfortunately, this is one of those weeks where I got “away from myself” and my normal routine. So, I have nothing to jog my memory to what to share with you. I decided I will write a list of some of my favorite things to do, to inspire you to write your own list of why life can be so satisfying. It really is the small things, sometimes, that add up to a good life.

A Sampling List of Some of My Favorite Things to Do:

Long, rambling, funny meals and conversations with my family and my friends.

Long, rambling walks with my husband and my dogs.

Cuddling with my husband in bed . . . . and other things.

Listening to my kids when they are in “excited, chatter mode” (even my adult kids still get this way, sometimes).

Writing.

Reading.

Getting really lost in a really good book or movie or TV series.

Discussing “what” I got lost in, from a really good book, movie, or TV series.

Watching SNL videos of skits, while doing stretches and planks. (I honestly just really like the SNL skit part)

Kissing my dogs on top of their heads. (I leave lipstick marks on our yellow lab)

Cuddling with my collie. She is such a cuddle bug! (Giant Pomeranian lap dog)

Crossing things off of my to-do list.

Making people laugh and feeling clever about it.

Trying out a new place, restaurant, shop, trail, skill, modality, amusement etc.

Taking the time for putting together a really cool outfit.

Driving aimlessly with the convertible top down, and the music blaring.

Doing and witnessing random acts of kindness.

Really connecting with someone and feeling like you have helped them reach a new insight that they were struggling to reach.

Flipping aimless through magazines and ripping out the pages that move me.

Laughing hard, loud and obnoxiously, from complete hilarity.

These are just a few things that popped right into my head, when I focused on the thought of “some of my favorite things to do.” It took me all of seven minutes to write down. Write your own list. Right now. It’s an uplifting thing to do. You’ll be happy that you did it. (I think that “bossing people around” might be one of my favorite things to do, but I’m not going to own that one. 😉 ) Have a great weekend!!!

40 Encouraging Quotes & Words Of Encouragement To Get You Through The Hardest Times In Life | YourTango

Conundrum

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This has been one of those weeks that what I envisioned the week to look like, has NOT even come close to being true. The calm, cool week of me getting back to my up-to-date, normal pace, organized flow before the holidays are upon us – that perfect, even-keel, “just breathe” week that I have envisioned, is instead turning into a week that is culminating in me having to race out of the house this morning for my first ever acupuncture appointment for a never-ending eye twitch (story for another blog post, some day), while laundry accumulates to the mountain high levels it was when all six of us still lived under one roof (ditto that for dishes in the sink), and our dogs reverting back to puppyhood, having accidents in the house, as a subconscious retaliation (my guess – I’d have to check with Cesar Milan to verify the truth to this theory) to the fact that we are WAY off our typical schedule and they are not happy. It doesn’t feel good to be out of sorts. I agree and I sympathize with my dogs, but I won’t stoop to their level. I’m not THAT crazy.

This excerpt was from my morning meditation by Anne Wilson Schaef:

“We are not machines. We will NEVER be machines. Regardless of how sophisticated science becomes, it will never be able to emulate the complexity of a simple human being. . . . . Today is a good day to celebrate our complexity and our unreasonableness! There are times when we are not understandable to ourselves or anybody else. So be it. Isn’t it great? We are not understandable! We are too complex to be completely understood. We are a conundrum. We are a paradox. We are a mystery. We are unfathomable. We are great!”

What a wonderful way to spin “our crazy”, both individually and collectively! I love it. Here’s some more good reassurance about our craziness (from a “doctor”, no less) before I go prepare myself to get needles poked into my face. Ending note:

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The Worry Fix

“Any concern too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden.” – Corrie ten Boom

Quotes also attributed to Corrie ten Boom, a Dutch watchmaker and a writer, who, with her family members, helped many Jews escape the Nazi Holocaust, by hiding them in her home:

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.

When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.

I had read these quotes, many times before, but I had never heard of Corrie ten Boom. When I looked her up, I thought that she would have been Native American, truthfully, because of her unusual last name. Her most famous writing is the book called The Hiding Place, based on her family’s experience of helping the Jews in the Netherlands. Corrie ten Boom’s entire family was eventually arrested by the Gestapo and imprisoned for their being part of “the resistance movement.” Her father and her sister died while they were detained in the camps towards the end of World War II.

This is one of my favorite quotes from the Wikipedia page about Corrie ten Boom:

“Ten Boom was initially held in solitary confinement. After three months, she was taken to her first hearing. At her trial, ten Boom spoke about her work with the mentally disabled; the Nazi lieutenant scoffed, because the Nazis had been killing mentally disabled individuals for years in accordance with their eugenics policies. Ten Boom defended her work by saying that in the eyes of God, a mentally disabled person might be more valuable “than a watchmaker. Or a lieutenant.”

I think that she was on to something there.

Corrie Ten Boom was a devout Christian, but this is an interesting quote about how her father felt about the importance of helping the Jews during World War II:

“A devoted reader of the Old Testament, he believed that the Jews were the “chosen people” and told the woman, “In this household, God’s people are always welcome”. The family then became very active in the Dutch underground hiding refugees and honoring the Jewish Sabbath. The family never sought to convert any of the Jews who stayed with them.”

When I write about God or prayers in my blog, I am not trying to convert anyone to any kind of thinking or belief system. I understand and respect that not everyone prays. There are many paths to God, and “God” holds different meaning for everyone. I believe that there are many paths to a Higher Power and I believe that most people have a higher power, even if that higher power is hard for an individual to conjure or to grasp and fully understand. I personally consider myself to be far more spiritual than I am religious.

I wrote the first quote in one of my inspirational journals because I am guilty of worrying way too much. About just about everything. I worry about how much that I worry. I pray a lot, too. About just about everything. I’ve been known to pray to God for guidance to a better air freshener. (By the way, the answer was Bath & Body Works Eucalyptus Mint plug-ins. They smell really good.) The first quote reminded me a lot about the story of the little boy whose father was the town’s Expert Toymaker. The little boy was very frustrated with his favorite toy, which had been broken for quite some time.

In anger and dismay, the little boy yelled to his father, “WHY haven’t you fixed MY TOY?!?!”

His father, the Expert, calmly answered, “You never put it into my hands to fix.”

Back This Up

I want to be a back-up singer. I can’t really sing. At all. Or dance. At all. But damn, back-up singers are so incredibly cool. I just really want to be one. Maybe in a future life . . . .

My husband and I attended Elvis Costello’s concert on Sunday night. It was really, really good. After getting over the shock of seeing all of the “old people” there (much like my grandmother-in-law who didn’t particularly like her Senior Living home because everyone there was “so old” – never mind the fact that she was one of the oldest people there), we really enjoyed ourselves. Elvis is still an amazing crooner. His keyboardist, bass player and drummer were all totally on point. The modern art flashing up on the screens behind the band, was a cool, thought-provoking touch. And despite being old, most of the concert goers were really fun and energetic. Most of them stood and danced and sang-shouted for almost all of the concert. But do you know who really stole the show? I’ll tell you who stole the show. The back-up singers stole the show. In particular, the back-up singer dressed in a gold lame jumpsuit with rainbow colored hair extensions that were so long, Crystal Gayle would have been impressed. She looked like a super-hero and when Elvis gave her the spotlight, and she belted out her solo, that back-up singer didn’t just look like a Guardian of the Galaxy, she WAS The Galaxy. That woman could sing like no other I have heard before her!!

I think that being a back-up singer is probably the best part of any gig there is, because the pressure is off. You get to go along for the ride, wear really cool, far out clothes and make-up (very loose work attire policy), stay on stage just as long as the main act, and your primary job is to keep the audience happy, engaged and to keep their clapping in rhythm (or as close to rhythm as the audience can manage, which depends on how cool and coordinated your audience is, but every job has its drawbacks). The superstars always seem incredibly appreciative of their back-up singers and dancers, as they should be. As a back-up singer, you have a super star genius fawning all over you in gratitude, but you don’t let it go to your head.

After the show, as a back-up singer, you can remain anonymous. You have the freedom to run into Walgreens for some water or ibuprofen or go out to eat where you want to after the show and if you can “lose” the superstar who hired you, you can eat in relative, pleasant obscurity, while still charging your meal to the Super Star. You are very secure in your talents, your freedom, and realization of how much you are needed by the genius who hired you.

Yep, back-up singer is where it’s at, in this day and age. It’s like being in The Secret Service, without all of the risk. I love back-up singers. I want to be one. In my next life I will be one, in the life where I actually have some musical talent to capitalize on . . . .

Land of the Free

Happy Veterans Day!

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Thank you, with deepest sincerity to all veterans and to your families, for preserving our freedom, at any cost. I am honored to send a special shout-out to my father, my father-in-law and my grandfathers (all three deceased), my sister-in-law, my uncle and my cousin for their selfless service to our country.  Thank you, truly. I appreciate, respect, and praise your bravery, courage, and sacrifice, for everything that we hold dear in this country. We are blessed to have citizens that choose to do this service, as a way of life. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Whole Paycheck

They say that you should never go to the grocery store with an empty stomach. I have oft heard this wise wisdom repeated throughout my life and I absolutely believe in its truth, in totality. I actually overheard that proverb said three times over, in a grocery store, just yesterday, as I steered my “filled to the brim, with things toppling over the top of it” cart towards the cashier.

It all started when I realized that we needed more gut shots, beet flavored. Costco got us hooked on this ridiculously expensive juice which is rather awful tasting, but decidedly helpful in the digestion arena. Like many things that Costco has gotten us hooked on, over the years, just when we are at the point of “I can’t ever live without this stuff”, Costco puts up one of its asterisk warning symbols on the price sign, and then quickly discontinues the item, leaving me, the desperate shopper, fumbling, all alone, in the dark, with no direction to go. Costco can be cruel.

Now, to order the said beet shots online, Amazon would charge $25 a bottle because they have to be delivered, cold, in a refrigerated delivery truck. (the beet juice is good, but it isn’t THAT good) So, the closest place that I could find, which regularly stocks 1-3 bottles of this stuff at any given time at a price more reasonable than $25 a bottle, is a local health foods store, similar to a smaller Whole Foods. I mentioned to my husband and to my daughter that I was going to get some more beet juice, if they wanted to ride along. Much to my surprise, both decided to come. It was a beautiful, cool, crisp, fall day and I did have the convertible top down, so I was figuring they just wanted an outing and some fresh air. Nope, not really. It turns out that they were starving. So was I.

Now these types of grocery stores are not the types of stores where people typically “load up”. People typically walk around in these stores with small, eco-friendly, sparsely filled baskets. These stores don’t even have “normal sized” carts. I think that the workers and the shoppers in these types of stores secretly hold the belief that eating is really rather kind of a nasty, gauche thing that you have to do, to stay alive. They all look at each other serenely, knowingly, and with an air of superiority that seems to say, “Yes, we have to eat to stay alive. But WE will only fill our bodies with small, expensive, tasteless nuggets of nothingness to keep ourselves alive and alert for one more day. WE are in the know of the correct ratio of just enough sensible calories to sustain the CORRECT level of alertness. Wink to you, fellow smart, healthy consumer.”

Further, there are absolutely no bargains in these types of stores. There are no BOGOS as far as the eye can see. Sales are gauche in these parts, too. The “Whole Foods/Whole Paycheck” absolutely applies to Whole Foods and to every knock-off store like it. But, since the three of us didn’t bother to fill our tummies before we headed off for a couple of bottles of beet juice, instead we decided that instead of going out for dinner, we would “eat in” last night and our dinner would consist of everything that looked good to all three of us, in every single aisle of the store. By the time that we got home and laid everything out that we had bought, our counter top looked like it was helicoptered in from The Old Country Buffet, minus the chocolate fountain. (but we had at least six different desserts to make up for that loss.) We had managed to buy out the store, of everything they had on the low end of health and the high end of sugar and calories (but hey, it was natural cane sugar – no chemicals). I purposely threw the receipt right into the garbage before giving it another look. I didn’t want to get sick, as my stomach was gorged. Luckily, the beet shot which I just took this morning, has me all straightened out and back to even keel, and in good senses. There will be no more impromptu family trips to ANY type of grocery store, except for right after a large dinner.

Knowing Yourself

“If you spend enough time with people who don’t laugh, you may start to think you’re not funny. Similar errors in judgment could be a takeaway from hanging out with the incurious, unkind and aesthetically oblivious. . . . Remember that the good life always involves people with the qualities we value.” – Holiday Mathis

After dinner last night, my husband and I stopped at an adorable cafe for coffee and dessert. We had time to kill (yes, that’s my excuse for getting dessert) because we had to pick up our daughter from an outing which she was having with her tennis friends. That is the only reason why we stopped at the cafe, despite passing it on the road many times before and saying to each other that “we MUST give that place a try.”

The cafe is European style. It is furnished with modern, sleek, yet comfortable Scandinavian furniture with frosted glass tables that change colors from the encased subtly color changing lights. The atmosphere is unique, relaxing and elegant. The gelato and the sweet, delicate desserts were absolutely scrumptious, and the coffee was divine. The proprietor of the cafe could not have been more gracious, welcoming, and delightful. And we were the only people there.

My husband and I both left the cafe, hoping desperately for the proprietor, that the cafe would stay in business, but we both already had the sinking feeling that we might not get another time to visit the eatery. Its prospects did not seem good. The problem mostly appeared to be with its location. The main street of town is filled with restaurants, breweries and shops. The cafe is on a quiet side street, a little bit out of the way. My husband is the one who thought to give it a try, when I suggested getting some dessert. I had suggested Panera or a local ice cream shop, both frequented by us and others, many times over. The cafe, despite being on my “local bucket list”, never really crossed my mind.

I could turn this blog post into a treatise of shopping “local” or “Flocal”, as we call it in Florida, but that is not really what has been swimming around in my mind, since this experience. More so, I have been thinking about the fact that just because something isn’t being responded to in a big way, or becoming popular by the masses, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s not good, or even great. The local Panera and the Tastee Treat (both chain franchises) that I had in mind for dessert, are bland and pedestrian and mediocre, at best, compared to what we experienced at the little Euro Cafe. I do have high hopes that word-of-mouth and the influx of “Snowbirds” coming into our town, will give this cafe the recognition and business that it deserves in the coming months. But I also know that we humans have a tendency to “follow the herd” blindly, when it comes to choices that we make, which makes us so vulnerable and easily swayed by the mass marketers, and the well-backed “influencers” of our time. Thinking outside of the box and then acting on that thinking, takes work, introspection, courage, curiosity and risk, that which we are often too adverse to experiencing. We are quick to follow the paths and the patterns laid out for us by our families, our friends, our institutions, and our society, without giving it much individual thought, that there may be more interesting, resonating paths that are equally viable options to try.

The great talents, gifts and contributions to society from Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson, Vincent Van Gogh, Franz Kafka, Gregor Mendel and Henry David Thoreau, among many others, were not appreciated until after their deaths. Would any of these brilliant people, who I just listed, whose accomplishments are still shaping our thoughts and our history and our knowledge and our ideas today, stop applying their gifts and their energy and their motivations, to the lives that they lead, with the fore-knowledge that this would be the case? I think not.

I like the idea in the opening quote that the good life involves people, places and things that embody the qualities that we value. Maybe that means slowing down and really pondering each of our choices, even choices as simple as to where to go to get some dessert. Are our choices really reflecting who we believe we are, at our very cores? Are our choices really reflecting what we say we value in life? One of my favorite proverbs is “Actions speak louder than words.” As someone who spends a lot of time playing around with “words”, I understand how easy it can be to start spin doctoring experiences, even to myself. “Walking the talk” takes a whole hell of a lot more courage, insight, and integrity than lying to myself with flowery words, ideas, images and sometimes, even excuses.

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