Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Good morning, friends and readers. I hope that this post finds you well, and rested, and peaceful, and hopeful, and thoughtful, and in the moment. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted entirely to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I think that this is fitting, because poetry is the form of writing that is the most closely entwined with our deepest feelings and soul. I was very moved by Amanda Gorman’s recital of her beautiful inauguration poem. I love the ending suggesting that we should be brave enough to be “the light”, which we are all really made of, underneath all of the noise and masks and insecurities and ego. Please, as always, feel safe to share your poetry in my Comments section. I would love to read what your soul has to say today. Here is Amanda Gorman’s poem in written form:

The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast,
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions
of what just is
isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We the successors of a country and a time
where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished.
Far from pristine.
But that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge a union with purpose,
to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,
but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,
that even as we grieved, we grew,
that even as we hurt, we hoped,
that even as we tired, we tried,
that we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat,
but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time,
then victory won’t lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we’ve made,
that is the promise to glade,
the hill we climb.
If only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption
we feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert,
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was,
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation,
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain,
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy,
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.
We will rise from the windswept northeast,
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
the new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Betty Faye

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This one hit me hard this morning. It reminded me about the time in my life, that my only daughter and I went shopping for the only doll which my daughter has ever liked or cared about. It was last fall, when my daughter was 16. We “adopted” Betty Faye together at the Cabbage Patch Hospital in Cleveland, Georgia.

I knew that I was pregnant with a daughter before she was born. She is the fourth child, and she has three older brothers. I am a “girly girl.” I like clothes and shoes and purses and high heels and lots of accessories. As a child, I loved dolls in every form. I loved Barbies, and Holly Hobbies, and Drowsy babies, and fancy foreign dolls on pedestals. I had the largest collection of paper dolls known to man. I still have a few of my precious paper doll sets, in storage. So, when I was pregnant with my daughter, I started collecting dolls for her, that I just knew she would love, with her whole heart and imagination. I bought the prettiest, most collectible, most cuddly dolls which I had ever seen, in bulk. My inner little girl bloomed, as my pregnant belly bloomed, and “together” we shopped for dolls for my soon-to-be daughter and I expectantly piled them high, in the closet.

For the first couple years of her life, my daughter was my own living baby doll. I dressed her up in a new outfit, every single day. She had the prettiest blankets and bathing suits and bracelets and monogrammed binkie holders, and I reveled in all of it. When she was about three, I started introducing my daughter to her curated doll collection, but she didn’t show too much interest. Her brothers proved to be much more fascinating, as they bounced her, like a ball, on the trampoline or used her for target practice for their dodge ball games. My daughter showed her athletic prowess early on, and the boys decided that my daughter was a worthy, valuable teammate for a lot of their games, and she was thrilled to be part of the action. Plus, never one to sit down much, she much preferred to play with her toy kitchen, dramatically chopping up and carving up plastic turkeys and lettuce, “Gordon Ramsey” style, with devilish flare, or to jump enthusiastically and tirelessly, mimicking all of the intricate moves on the video game, Just Dance.

One day, we had a “come to Jesus moment”, when my daughter was almost four. As I gingerly pulled out a fancy, antique Madame Alexander, exquisite doll from her still intact trademark cardboard blue box, in order to transition the doll over to the next generation, my daughter looked at the doll with a glimpse of disgust and maybe even despair. Then she looked me firmly in the eye and very matter-of-factly said, “Mom, dolls are scary.”

My daughter is a talented artist. She has long, shiny, beautiful hair and she loves to do it up, in all different styles. She is so creative when she paints her lovely nails. (luckily she didn’t inherit my ugly, stubby, chippy little fingernails) We enjoy shopping together. So, while we have shared a lot nice “girl times” together, playing dolls was never a part of our bonding experience. So, imagine my complete surprise when she seemed eager to visit the Cabbage Patch Hospital with me, this past fall, when we were staying in a cabin in the mountains of Georgia. I figured that it was just an odd fascination and curiosity about a giant plantation-like looking building, where Cabbage Patch kids are “born.” Even my husband and eldest son agreed to go, for laughs, I suppose.

We walked all around the doll hospital. It was the first time in a long time, that wearing a mask felt fun and normal and appropriate. All of the salespeople were dressed like nurses, and there were walls of photos of famous people who had visited the Cabbage Patch hospital, over many years. It was a silly, fun, unusual, interesting experience, at a time when we needed that type of experience the most.

After getting my fill of the place, I noticed my daughter kept looking at one of the dolls. “If you had to just pick one doll, out of the thousands of dolls here, which would you pick?” I asked her casually. She giggled embarrassedly and pointed to little blonde, pony-tailed Betty Faye, all decked out in comfy aqua pajamas.

“I’ll buy her for you, if you want her,” I said casually. (trying to keep hope out of my expression) “You know, as a funny souvenir and remembrance of our trip.”

She took me up on my offer right away, and we headed back to the “nurse’s” office, to fill out Betty Faye’s adoption paperwork. I don’t know why my sixteen-year-old daughter showed the interest and enthusiasm for a doll that day, that she had never shown before. Was it to make sure that she didn’t miss out on anything in her childhood, with college and adulthood now looming, so soon in the future? Was it a form of love and connection that she was trying to express to me? Or maybe, was it that a soft, comfy doll to hug was just the ticket, after a year of so much fear and uncertainty that came with the pandemic? No matter what the reason, I lapped up the experience, and so did my daughter. And every once in a while, when kissing my baby girl goodnight, I notice that Betty Faye has made her way off of the shelf, and into the bed, with an ever smiling face, promising that you are never too old or never too young, to enjoy all that life has to offer, all along the way.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

The GOAT

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It took me a long time to realize that GOAT also stands for “Greatest of All Time.” I think that jumping around randomly, eating whatever I want, and the power to head butt annoying people would be the GOAT. It is not offensive to be called a “goat.”

I am delayed in writing because my morning was taken up with drywall/contractor appointments and other distractions, which I allowed. My quiet, peaceful, morning reflection and writing time has gotten off to a rocky start. I read another wonderful meme on Twitter today that said “People who wonder whether the glass is half empty or half full miss the point. The glass is refillable.” (Rex Masters)

I am reminding myself that it is my duty to protect my glass and to refill it with what makes me sing. I must be more protective of my morning routine/ritual and my writing time. I must let my inner goat out, on occasion, to keep things “real.”

“Whatever gets your goat gets your attention. Whatever gets your attention gets your time. Whatever gets your time gets you. Whatever gets you becomes your master. Take care, lest a little thing horn in and get your goat.”  -William Arthur Ward

“Look carefully at the goat sitting on the edge of the cliff: Everything that shows you the peace of being fearless is a great teacher for you! That goat is a teacher for you, respect him!” –  Melmet Muran ildan 

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 


The Start of Something

Today is Inauguration Day. The word “inauguration” means a ceremony to mark the start of something. In my life, I have family and friends whose views would span all areas of the political spectrum, although most of “my people” would land as dots, around the center spot, from what I can tell. I steer clear of political talk, as much as I can. Still, I’ve always prided myself in being open-minded. I like to get to know all different kinds of people. People are way too complicated to pigeon-hole. The older I get, the less I like labels and definitions. I am more attracted to sensations and nuances and the stories behind the stories. I like movement versus stagnation.

If I wanted to personalize Inauguration Day, what would I like to do, to mark the start of, in my own life? What parts of my life would I choose to continue with and to grow and to nurture, and what in my life has given me its lesson, and is ready to be let go? What would a new governing body look like in my own personal life? Things to ponder to make Inauguration Day, a way to help me “to be the change I want to see” (Gandi):

You are the CEO of your own life. Hire, fire and promote accordingly. (Think Smarter)

Drama does not just walk into your life. Either you create it, invite it, or associate with it.

You can’t have change without loss.

Be a good person, but don’t waste your time proving it. (u. fo)

Real growth starts when you are tired of your own shit. (F of F)

Any concern too small to be turned into a prayer, is too small to be made into a burden. (Corrie Ten Boom)

A mistake repeated more than once, is a decision.

A deadline causes stress, a purpose causes motivation. (Holiday Mathis)

A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything.

How your life feels, is more important than how it looks. (Think Smarter)

Your direction is more important than your speed.

Your mind is a beautiful servant, but a dangerous master.

Please understand this: Bad chapters can still create great stories. Wrong paths can still lead to right places. Failed dreams can still create successful people. Sometimes it takes losing yourself, to find yourself. (Cynthia Thurlow, NP)

*****I apologize, these quotes all came from one of my many inspirational notebooks. When I see something that stirs me, I write it down. I have to get better at writing down who to credit with these beautiful wisdoms that were shared to me, one way or another. I will make that goal of remembering who to credit, part of my inaugural plans.

These are all good starters to contemplate when doing your own personal inauguration ceremony. Please share some of your own helpful “starter wisdoms” in my Comments section. Here’s to new beginnings, at every level of the game!!

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

More Carrots

“Whenever I get discouraged and want to quit something, I remember the words of my then 3 year-old after she puked carrots all over the living room floor: “I’m gonna need more carrots.” – Jessica Valenti

Out of the mouths of babes! Our three-day weekend was taken up by a lot of our hot water pipes being replaced in our house. Today, we start interviewing drywall people. Yesterday, in a fit of frustration, I insisted that my husband and I drive around town, looking at neighborhoods that we may want to settle in, when our daughter heads to college, in about a year. I was angry at my house. I felt let down. They say that comparison is the thief of happiness, but yesterday that proved false. Kind of like “the country mouse” in the fable of “The Country Mouse and The City Mouse”, I felt a new sense of relief and appreciation and comfort, when we arrived back home, from our drive around town. Just like my body, my home may be getting a little worn down, but its bones are good, it has beautiful views of its surroundings, and it is filled with love. For now, we stay put. Maybe all that we really need to do, is to plant some carrots in our garden.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Monday – Funday

26 All Time Best Betty White Quotes & Funny Memes In Honor Of Her (98th!)  Birthday

Betty White’s 99th birthday was yesterday. Talk about a walking smile – Betty is that!! What an inspiration she is to so many people, mostly by being so alive and joyful!

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

I read a news story over the weekend about a very courageous waitress and an equally courageous little boy in Orlando, Florida. The boy was with his family in a restaurant, and the waitress noticed how frail he looked, and that he was covered in bruises. The family did not order him a meal. The waitress wrote a note on a piece of paper. “DO YOU NEED HELP?”, the paper sign read. She held it so that only the boy could see it. At first the little boy shook his head in a slight “no”, but she persisted a few more times, and he finally nodded “yes” assuredly. The waitress called the police, and it turns out that the boy and his sister were being severely abused and malnourished by their parents. The children were taken to safety, and their parents were arrested. The police officer handling the case said that this kind of bravery, shown by both the waitress and the little boy, is extremely rare. In most cases, people just look the other way. And also in most cases, people aren’t brave enough, to ask for help when they need it. This is the year to be a new kind of brave – the bravery shown by a waitress and a little boy.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

S.O.W.

I have written about West Virginia before. West Virginia flies under the radar, and under the cloak of a lot misperception. It turns out that the West Virginia state government has done the second best job of distributing its vaccines to her people so far, with 67% of their allotted vaccines already given in shots to the arm. (North Dakota has distributed 77% of its allotted vaccine.) Apparently, West Virginia had a 65 years and older, priority policy much earlier than the federal government suggested the policy, in its guidelines for distributing the coronavirus vaccine. West Virginia gave their policy of prioritizing vaccines for their seniors, the name S.O.W. which stands for “Save Our Wisdom”. I love this.

Quotes about Elders wisdom (45 quotes)
Experience matters | Words, Elderly quote, Inspirational quotes

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. (this will be the daily mantra of the blog, for the rest of this year.)

Om Friday

Can we get an OM YEAH? #happyfriday #om #yoga #yogafam#yogateacher  #yogaclass | Yoga quotes funny, Yoga funny, Yoga quotes

Hi friends! Happy Friday! Usually on Fridays, I list three favorite things of the material world that make life a more sensual, intensified, interesting experience, for me. Lately, though, I would be okay with less intense, less visceral, more even keel experiences, how about you? In the beginning of the year, I get into cleaning out mode, so the idea of finding more “things” to add to my life, feels exhausting and smothering.

Yesterday, I took Trip, our nine-month-old Boykin spaniel puppy to a local park to play “fetch to the death.” Okay, not really to the death, but he would have been game to try. His high intensity, disorganized, unfocused puppy energy has a tendency to start working on all of our nerves, including our two older dogs, so I thought that it would be good for him to have an outlet for everything that was stirring up his insides. It turns out that the park outing was maybe needed by me, most of all.

For a good five years in my forties, I was a regular yoga practitioner. I am not sure why I got away from it (probably my frenetic need for variety and novelty), because yoga is wonderful, for the body and for the soul. Anyway, as I was driving Trip and myself over to the park, one of my favorite yoga chants came up on the play list, and starting playing over my radio. It turned out to be the perfect background music for watching my little puppy, run for joy towards a little yellow ball, again and again, with three elegant deer munching on grass, undisturbed, in the background.

Today, I am going to share this song with you all, as my only favorite for today. Get out your best hippie chic, light up a patchouli candle and let yourself sway to this chant, for as long as you need, to remind yourself, Everything is going be alright. Love, Peace, Freedom for us all. Have a delightful, tranquil, amazing weekend.

The Friday Funny: Yoga | Ramblings of the Claury

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. (this will be the daily mantra of the blog, for the rest of this year.)

Oh Sh*t

“Apologize when you are wrong, not when you feel insecure or embarrassed.”

I saw this quote on the internet the other day. I have touched on this subject before here at Adulting- Second Half. (when you write a blog every single day for years on end, that tends to happen. Just as my kids roll their eyes, as I repeat the “same old stories”, I see that it is happening here at the blog, too.) Still, this one bears repeating. And I won’t apologize for it.

Years ago, a friend told me that I apologize too much. She said, instead of apologizing, say, “Thank you for your patience with my repeating the same themes in my blog.” (just an example) It was advice that has stuck in my mind, for years and I try to utilize it.

When I get nervous, I repeat myself or I ask the same questions a gazillion times. Yesterday, the hot water pipes broke underneath the tile and our kitchen cabinets. Yay. About 200 times before the sun rose in the sky, I asked my husband if he was going to call a plumber. Of course, he was going to call a plumber. My husband is a responsible man, and he didn’t want this to turn into a bigger mess than it had to be, either. I know this. But unconsciously, I asked him, out loud, 200 times if he was going to call a plumber. It is my way of self-soothing. It is my way to reassure myself. The question was just a substitution for “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

So, when my husband (quite understandably) lost his patience with my questioning, I did not apologize. I just explained that I understand that my nervous habit would be aggravating and I will try to work on it, but he knows, after being married to me for over 26 years, that old habits die hard. And I gave him the same explanation that I explained to you about my quirky compulsion, in the paragraph above. And then I alluded to some of his quirks, that I have chosen to live with, because the overall package of him, more than makes up for, a few little annoying idiosyncrasies that are addendums to an otherwise amazing person.

I think that we will start talking to each other again tomorrow. (wink)

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. (this will be the daily mantra of the blog, for the rest of this year.)

A Hole in the Bucket

Given recent events, the outcry to stop our nation’s division is getting louder and louder, but how can this be done? The reasons for the division, in the first place, come from such strong fundamentally different ideas about what the right solutions are, for so many facets of our society. My friend recently repeated what is often said to couples who are having marital problems. We need to stop thinking of each other as enemies, tearing each other to the bone, and instead, see each other as loving people, allied against the problems which we face. Perhaps this would be easier to do, if we contemplated and we realized how much more alike we all are, than we ever truly and deeply realize.

I recently read a parable that made so much sense to me. My regular readers know that I sometimes explain humanity with the idea that we are all branches, or leaves, or roots of the same tree. Sometimes, I make the analogy that we are all different cells of the same body. This new parable talks about the idea that we are all submerged buckets in a huge, vast, timeless, limitless ocean body of water. Our submerged buckets are all individual and different. The buckets are different sizes, and different colors, and different shapes. Some of the buckets are quite fancy and some are quite simple. Yet, each bucket is truly unique. Even the buckets that appear to be the same, the “twin buckets” so to speak, are submerged in a different part of the ocean, and so they are likely to have unique marks left on them, from a passing shell or a shark fin, that helps distinguish them from all of the the other buckets. In short, these buckets represent our own shells. Our shells are made up of our own living bodies and forms, plus our personalities and our egos. But interestingly, just as all of the submerged buckets are filled with the same ocean water, all of our submerged buckets, each contains inside of itself, the exact same “stuff” – soul, spirit, God, Awareness, consciousness, Love, Source, whatever you want to call “It” – essentially the stuff, the essence, the force, etc. that makes all living things “alive”, versus inanimate, unconscious things like our couches or shoes or bricks. Thus, as the ocean is inside and yet also, outside all of the submerged buckets in the parable, so is the very same Universe inside and yet also, outside, all of us and all living things. Keep in mind, all of the buckets are one-of-a-kind. They come in all arrays of colors and all forms. They have landed in different parts of the deep sea, and so they have had vastly different experiences. Some buckets are quite porous, almost like a thin membrane, and what is inside of the buckets, and what is all around the outside of these buckets, flows in and out of them, quite easily. These buckets might sometimes get labeled as “fragile and sensitive.” Some buckets are solid and thick and stay deeply rooted at the bottom of the ocean, surviving all sorts of deep water disturbances. These buckets might sometimes be described as “hardened and tough.” Some buckets have been really been put through all sorts of tests, attacked by sharp toothed fishes and steel propellers and pollution, and they have the scars to prove it. Perhaps these buckets sometimes get called “damaged.” Some buckets have been around quite some time, and they are covered with barnacles and sometimes are considered to be “set in their ways”, deeply rooted in the sand. Some of the buckets have gotten so old and so worn, that they have disintegrated, so that the part of the ocean which was once contained inside of them, has flowed back into the vastness of the stable ocean that has surrounded them, for all of their existence. The buckets are all just buckets. They aren’t good nor are they bad, they are just vehicles for the ocean water to flow into and to experience itself, in a distinct light. Each of the buckets was formed differently from a physical standpoint. Where each bucket has landed into this vast ocean, and what they have experienced in their individual places of landing, have helped to shape and to evolve them even more, into their own unique selves. If we can see ourselves as the submerged buckets, we know that our outer shells are just the form which we were born into, plus the experiences that we have gone through along the way, creating a recognizably unique person, and a colorful personality. Still, like the submerged buckets, we are all filled with the same “stuff”. And better yet, just as the ocean covers all of the submerged buckets, we are all surrounded by the very same powerful “stuff,” that is also contained inside of all of us. A lot of us have forgotten that fact. A lot of us think that we are just the shells of ourselves. A lot of us think that we are just the bucket part of ourselves, and that is when we lose all sense of our connectedness, with all that is. That is when we play small and get mean and greedy and defensive and fearful and angry and puffed up. Because really, what is a bucket compared to the vast ocean? A bucket by itself, is dwarfed by the ocean and lonesome on the shore. A bucket, by itself, is a fearful state to be in.

In yoga, people often greet each other with “Namaste.” Loosely, translated, it means, “The spirit in me, recognizes the spirit in you.” In other words, I can see past your bucket form, to all of the beauty and creation which is held inside of you, and which is also held inside of me. Maybe if we all work harder at seeing past the bucket walls, of anyone we meet, (understanding that their bucket covering was created out of their own experiences, which may have been vastly different experiences than our own experiences), we can get a glimpse of what really lies inside. Maybe by us trying to see the spirit inside of others, we can help them to remember that they are much, much more than an empty, decaying vessel, and in the same light, they can do the same for us. And then all of us can feel more confident, in the face of the challenges ahead of us, knowing that everything which we need, in order to prosper, individually and societally, is inside of all of us, and all around us, for all of eternity.

He fills heaven and earth as the ocean fills the bucket that is submerged in it, and as the ocean surrounds the bucket so does God in the universe He fills. “The heaven of heavens cannot contain Thee.” God is not contained: He contains.”

— Aiden Wilson Tozer

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. (this will be the daily mantra of the blog, for the rest of this year.)