Good morning, soul mates. I hope that you all are having a lovely, restful yet rejuvenating holiday weekend. Welcome to summer! My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry. Poetry is much like the “summer” of language. It is slow and contemplative and full and sometimes heavy, meandering and inquisitive, full of background humming. On Sundays, I either write a poem or I share a poem, written by someone else, which has moved me. And also on Sundays, I implore you to write a poem, as well. Please feel safe and comfortable enough to share your poem in my Comments section. Today’s poem is a classic, popular poem by a poet named Marge Piercy. It speaks of the first days of summer.
MORE THAN ENOUGH by Marge Piercy
The first lily of June opens its red mouth. All over the sand road where we walk multiflora rose climbs trees cascading white or pink blossoms, simple, intense the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrowhead is spreading its creamy clumps of flower and the blackberries are blooming in the thickets. Season of joy for the bee. The green will never again be so green, so purely and lushly
new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads into the wind. Rich fresh wine of June, we stagger into you smeared with pollen, overcome as the turtle laying her eggs in roadside sand.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I came across these Coyote Vests in my morning readings, and I think that they are wonderful! We live in an area where it is not unusual for small dogs to be mauled, and killed by a whole bevy of creatures such as alligators, coyotes and even hawks. These vests are an attempt to make adorable dogs look formidable. Still, I think that there are certain dogs that are just made even cuter by any embellishment that you put on to them. (Who doesn’t get an emotional lift from seeing a Dachshund in a hot dog Halloween costume?) You can’t erase “adorable” with quills, and spikes, and evil eyes. Still, these vests may at least give the pups a “not worth the effort” kind of a look. We can relate when we think about how often we avoid ordering crabs or crawfish to eat at a restaurant, even if we love shellfish. You have to be focused, famished, bibbed and full of stamina, to get your money’s worth, from a lobster dinner.
I won’t be ordering these vests for our three dogs, ranging in size from 40 pounds, to 90 pounds. When the daily wrestle mania event occurs with our canines, I can only imagine that scene, with neon colored quills and sharp spikes and evil eyes, added to the mix. I imagine that my couch might end up looking like an abstract Picasso painting, after the mashup, with the eyes staring up at me with an “I told you so” look, coming straight from the mess of it all. I like to think that my dogs have size on their side, when it comes to any predators, plus they are all separation-anxiety ridden, Velcro dogs. If I stay away from gators and things that go bump in the night, so do they.
I was thinking that I might like to have one of these Coyote Vests for myself, on days when I am feeling vulnerable, raw and exposed. The vests do have a way of saying, “Back off, Bozo!” without using any words. “Step off, stupid, lest you want a hot pink quill in your eye!” Maybe, if I keep checking the website, they’ll eventually have one in my size.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I was sad to read that Eric Carle, the author of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, passed yesterday, at the age of 91. What a lovely man! What lasting gifts he has given to so many of generations of kids! (including my generation, and my kids’ generation, and likely my future grandchildren’s and great-grandchildren’s generations, to boot!)
Last night, I was having dinner with some friends and one friend was relating about how maturely her twenty-something daughter was handling a drama with her friends. We all marveled at how wise her daughter seems to be, at such a young age. We all talked about what life lessons that we wished we had figured out earlier, and really let sink in, when we were in our early adulthoods, such as: “Whatever anyone thinks about me, is none of my business.”, and “Expectations are the root of all heartache. – William Shakespeare”, and knowing that the saying, “This too shall pass”, is really, really the honest truth, and a hope to hang on to, going through any kind of negative ordeal. (All of us have just experienced this, first hand, with the pandemic, starting to finally be seen from the rearview mirror.)
It is interesting to be 50, and to still be learning a lot of life’s lessons. Life is one long learning process. The classroom never ends. I think a big paradox happens as you age. The very few things that I Know, the things that resonate in the deepest part of my soul, I Know (capital K is on purpose) with a more confident absoluteness, than I ever did before, but at the same time, I am in a constant state of “unlearning” so much that I thought I was so sure of before. I am sure there is a lot more of that “unlearning” lesson to come for me. And this “unraveling of truths” lesson seems to come at an advanced pace, the older that I get. Maybe if I reach a ripe old age, some more of my “I Knows” will turn into “Oops, looks like I was wrong about that one, too.”
My middle son is headed to his first year of medical school later this summer. At dinner the other night, he was telling my husband and I, that he’s been reflecting on the different personas which he has had, already, in his young life: Soccer Dude in high school, Frat Boy in college, now moving on to Budding Doctor Guy. During the conversation, I said that I don’t think it is so much that we change into different identities, as much as we integrate all of the experiences and wisdom that we’ve collected along the way, as we morph into new roles. At the same time, there comes to a stage in life (and I think it is primarily, in this second half of adulting) where we start shedding a lot of those “roles” or “titles” and we start peeling away at the onion of people and places and experiences and beliefs, which have created “us” and our lives, to go searching for what’s really there, in that simpler core. I think if we all stripped away all the layers, and all of the lessons, and all of the perceptions, and all of the experiences, and all of the calculations, and all of the complications, and all of the emotions, and all of the experiments, I think that we’d find the same thing at the core of all that is . . . love, just love. One day, I think that I will Know (with a capital K), that it’s only love that is at the core of everything. Simply, love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
New feature – THROWBACK THURSDAY
I’ve decided to highlight some of my older, more popular posts, since I have been writing this blog, daily, for almost three years now. Here’s today’s Throwback post:
Think Smarter (Twitter) got it right, once again, with the above meme. (damn that Think Smarter, thinks smart!) It is human nature to always be desiring the next best thing. Desire is what keeps us reaching into the realms of possibility, and what helps us to create the marvels of the future. But strong desire and tenacious striving, is best helped along, with a healthy dose of humble gratefulness. As I sit at this large, heavy, L-shaped desk in my writing nook, I remember holding my breath, hoping beyond hope that the movers could make the desk fit into the corner of my living room, so that I could see out of two sets of massive windows, as I do my work. Miraculously, they were able to do it, with only about a half a centimeter to spare. (They really wanted it to work for me. I’ll never forget their kindness and effort. Never. Most often, I experience this kind of earnestness from “the everyman”. I feel sad for people who keep themselves cloistered away from people who aren’t “just like themselves.” They miss out on experiencing some of the most beautiful souls on Earth.) I am sitting at this desk, in a lovely home, which we were renting at first, before deciding that we really wanted to buy it. We had fallen in love with our views from the windows, and the nature surrounding us, and frankly, we really didn’t want to have to move again. I remember praying that we could strike a fair deal with our landlords, to buy it. We did. As my four children, started into the final sprint into their adulthoods (the last lap is always the fastest . . . . sigh), I prayed for a creative outlet to help me to fill the hole and make me feel more complete again. I was lead to start this blog. Thank you, sturdy desk, for fitting in and creating my writing corner. Thank you, nurturing home, for finding a way to become ours, during this transitional stage in our lives. Thank you, Powers That Be, for finding me the right outlet for the words that swim in and around my mind, day and night. Thank you for answering my prayers that lead me into my purpose(s), in this life. Thank you, also, for the unanswered prayers, that saved me from myself. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Yesterday, I read a cute article about an adorable and rare black leopard cub, that was born recently in an English Big Cat Sanctuary. They were asking the public to help name her. My favorite name in the running was “Inka.” I loved how the keepers described the baby leopard. In their particular British way, they said that the cub has “bags of attitude.” I’ve reached the age, where anything with “bags of attitude”, secretly delights me. My kids aren’t little sassy children, nor ornery tweens any longer, so “bags of attitude” is charming to me, once again. (Life works in circles, doesn’t it?) Anyway, I thought to myself, maybe this is the way that I should spend the rest of my life, with “bags of attitude”, fully balanced with “bags of gratitude.” It sounds like the right plan for me.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I’m having a distracting morning. Usually I am better at protecting my early morning hours for just me and for my writing, but today I let myself get distracted – by wanting to sleep, by taking a phone call, by getting caught up on “click bait” on the internet, by getting caught up in “click bait”, in my mind, and in my imagination, and in the riling of my emotions. It happens. I like the phrase “It happens,” as long as I don’t use it too often as an excuse. “It happens” is a reminder that none of us are perfect. Life is often messy and so are we. Here are two quotes/passages I came across in my readings, which I like a lot. I think that you will, too.
“Thoughts are like taxis. You get in, they take you for a ride and you are left with the bill to pay. Instead, why not let them drive by?” – Gelong Thubten
“Singing – It calms us-the vibration in the body, the resonance rumbling through-there’s a reason lullabies put babies to sleep. To sing is to pray, to meditate, to speak the unspeakable, to let go of what has been kept silent. To sing in harmony is to share those things, to wrap one voice around another and fall in love in some way, to become alchemists of notes and create mixtures of soundwaves that magically put feelings in order, even if it has to rile them first.” – Allison Moorer
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
This is a going to be a little more serious than my typical Monday post, but it has been playing around in my head too long, for me to not get it out in writing. That’s how it works with me. My husband and I have been devoted to watching the “Better Call Saul” television series for the last few weeks. It’s excellent. Having been huge fans of “Breaking Bad”, I am not sure why it took us so long to get to the spinoff, “Better Call Saul”, but better late than never.
There is a powerful scene in the show, where one of the characters, Kim Wexler, is having to dig herself out of a hole with her employer – a hole, partially made by her love interest, Jimmy, and his bad judgment. Jimmy is trying to fix what has happened, in order to get back into Kim’s good graces. At the end of this poignant scene, Kim dismisses Jimmy’s shady ‘solution’ to the problem, by using her own reason and common sense and good judgment. With a very determined, and empowered and all-knowing demeanor, she says to Jimmy, “You don’t save me. I save me.”
“I save me.” Friends, this is a good mantra. Keep it in your back pocket. Use it often. Remind yourself how often you have saved yourself from negative experiences such as abusive relationships, toxic work places, financial crises, bad personal habits and addictions, health problems, and even working through, and overcoming grief. Sure, you may have received help from loved ones, and professionals, and your Higher Power, but you accepted that help. (As the proverb goes, “God helps those, who help themselves.”) You faced the problem head on, and realized, and admitted to yourself and to others, that you needed help. You loved yourself. You saved yourself. You loved yourself enough to save yourself. You stepped out of the victim chair and into your personalpower. You saved yourself again and again. You showed yourself how worthy you are of love, and kindness, and goodness, and grace. You showed yourself that you could trust yourself. You stopped waiting around for someone, or something else, outside of yourself, to save you. You saved you. It’s the only way.
“I save me.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Good morning, soulmates. We are experiencing an extraordinary and lovely weekend here. What is more beautiful than the lush, fully green, fully ripe, late spring days, hinting at the free-spirited summer around the corner? My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry, a poetry workshop of sorts. Usually I write a poem, although sometimes I share a poem by another poet who has moved me. As always, I strongly encourage you to share your poems, or at the very least, to write one. Writing a poem is the perfect way to have a conversation with your heart and with your soul. Here’s my poem for the day:
Beautiful Days
Today is beautiful outside. We don’t often count the beautiful days.
The counted days are the fierce, savage days,
which insist on being experienced by rapid force,
And held in our memories by fear and prowling.
The beautiful days leave the door open, with a soothing invitation,
to bring inside, the calm, clear colors, and the soft shimmering of the outside,
to softly cleanse and to shine up and to clear up the view,
for the inner core of our very being and awareness.
The beautiful days are gentle and quiet and nourishing,
and far more prevalent than we ever truly care to admit.
The dramatic storms, with their ravenous anger and destruction,
hold us in rapt attention and rumination and trepidation.
The vicious days have made industries of defense and calculation.
The beautiful days just offer themselves freely. Love requires no invitation.
Soak in the beauty of the day. And expect more beautiful days.
Storms are just angry reminders to remember to count the beautiful days.
The storms are just intermittent nudges to bask in the plethora of beautiful days.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Bonus thought for the day: It doesn’t really matter what happens. We have very little control about what happens, in most cases. What matters is how we handle what happens.
My husband had to have his wedding band cut off of his finger the other day. It’s only the second wedding band he has ever had in our almost 27 years of marriage. The first wedding band that he had, he actually lost on our honeymoon, while we were snorkeling. It was the opposite problem, that time. That ring was improperly sized, and ended up being too big for his finger. It either still lies at the bottom of the Caribbean, or it became fish food, or perhaps some lucky scuba diver found a little sunken treasure. It’s always been a fun story to tell, at cocktail parties.
Ever the practical businessman, my husband didn’t want to waste a lot of time at the Emergency Room, but time was of the essence. His ring finger had turned purple and was swollen like a balloon. We tried using almost a whole tub of greasy Go-Jo, and other tricks suggested on the internet involving string, etc. in order to try to get the ring to slide off, unharmed, but it wouldn’t budge. So, my husband went to our local jeweler and asked him to cut the ring off. Our jeweler had just the tool for the job, and my husband’s fingers are all back to normal, proportional size.
We will get the wedding ring re-sized, but in the meantime, the proud, protective, possessive part of me who likes everyone to know that my husband is “MY MAN”, did not like seeing his naked and exposed ring finger. So, while the ring is in the shop, we went to the Amazon Prime website and we purchased a package of seven of those gummy, silicone rings that a lot of men in the younger generations, seem to wear. The package was $20 for seven rings, and they are black with different accent shades, so he can match them with his clothes. The rings honestly look kind of edgy and cool and according to my husband, they are pretty comfortable.
I thought to myself, “Damn, the ladies of this current generation are so clever and astute. While the average diamond engagement rings seem to be bigger and blingier than ever, they’ve duped the guys into wearing $3 rubber rings. The money saved goes towards a bigger sparkler for her hand. These young women have also convinced guys that they think “Dad bods” are hot, so that their husbands spend more time at home, helping with the kids and around the house, and less time at the gym. I say, brilliant!”
“For years my wedding ring has done its job. It has led me not into temptation. It has reminded my husband numerous times at parties that it’s time to go home. It has been a source of relief to a dinner companion. It has been a status symbol in the maternity ward.” – Erma Bombeck
“A man’s got two shots for jewelry: a wedding ring and a watch. The watch is a lot easier to get on and off than a wedding ring.” – John Mayer
“A wedding ring is sort of a tourniquet worn on one’s finger to stop circulation.” – unknown
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Good morning friends and readers!! The best day of the week has arrived in full form. On Fridays, I don’t blog about anything serious. I don’t dwell on feelings or retell my cache of silly stories (search for my “no-horse-pucky” stories on the blog, if you are in the mood). On “Favorite Things Friday”, I discuss three things, or songs, or books, or apps, or websites, etc. that makes my tactile life a little more fun. Please check out previous Friday posts for more good ideas, and please share your favorites in my Comments section. (You guys tend to be a little stingy with your sharing of favorites. Don’t be afraid to share. There’s enough for everybody. Don’t be like Troye Sivan, who once said, “Sharing is caring, but I don’t care.” Ha!) I will now share my favorites for today:
Memory Foam Slippers – If you want to keep your feet in a perpetual hug, while you bounce around on clouds, get yourself some thick, memory foam slippers. I never knew walking could be so trampoline like, without exerting any effort. My only issue is that I tend to be a little “shuffe-ly” when I walk in mine, but I know how to prance to stop that dance. Kooba and Ultraideas are the brands of my memory foam slippers, but the true secret sauce is the memory foam. They don’t look too bad either. They have a spa-slipper appeal.
Two Favorite Questions That I Came Upon This Week – These are two questions to ask your highest self, and your inner intuition that will give you real insight into decisions to be made, and/or who you want to allow into your life on a regular basis. I hate to get so thought provoking on a Friday, but you can put these in your back pocket for when you have some soul searching to do, or for when you want something to meditate on:
“What do I need to become aware of that I wouldn’t even know to ask about?” – Rob Brezny
“If the phone rang at 11 p.m., do you want it to be that a-hole at the other end?” – Anthony Bourdain, question asked to his crew about a certain Hollywood producer, who they ended up turning down a lucrative deal with, because he didn’t “sit well” with any of them. In short, be choosy who you let into your circle, and certainly be even choosier who you let into your sacred inner circle. Life is too short to be talking to a-holes at 11 p.m. any night of the week.
E. Jean on Substack – If the only reason you ever subscribed to Elle magazine was for E. Jean’s spicy, on-point, evocative advice column, and then you realize that Elle was stupid enough to fire her, cancel your subscription and put your hard-earned cash towards her column moved to Substack. You get the E. Jean Carroll advice column every single day, right in your email’s in-box. I have always adored E. Jean’s writing style and her cocksure confidence. She’s still going strong. You can subscribe here: ejeancarroll.substack.com
Bonus fries: Have a great weekend!! If you just can’t get enough of me (I know, it happens 😉 ) here are links to two of my most popular blog posts, as trending shows, over the years:
I am hesitant to put this out there, because the “mask situation” has been a controversy for what feels like most of the pandemic, but I am going to take a chance. My readers know my heart. I walked around Target for two hours yesterday and I wasn’t wearing a mask. I didn’t really even need to buy anything (but of course I ended up with a cart full of stuff, anyway). The experience was delightful!
My family and I have been fully vaccinated for about a month now. Our governor has lifted all mask regulations. Target has lifted their mask regulations. So, like a kid, wobbling around on a bike, when first learning how to ride it, I wobbled around with my big red cart, with a huge smile on my face, to anyone who would meet my eyes. It was kind of like learning to ride a bike all over again. It all comes back to you. I promise you, it does.
I thought to myself, in some weird way, maybe this is sort of a gift, which has come from this awful pandemic. Getting to experience things, like it was the first time all over again, is kind of thrilling. I had forgotten how much I liked to shop in Target. I had forgotten how much fun it is to leisurely amble around a store, without actually having anything really to shop for, instead of zipping around the store as quickly as possible, like I’m a super-crazy-competitive contestant on Supermarket Sweep. Yesterday, I didn’t dodge others like they were poison incarnate. And they didn’t dart away, in fear, from me, either.
I would say that only about half of us in the store (shoppers and employees) were maskless, but that’s okay, everyone learns (or re-learns) to ride a bike, in their own time. When I was checking out my purchases, my clerk, looked at me in the eyes, smiled and said, “Wow, it’s so nice to see people buying lipstick again.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
