On a day that so many celebrate with picnics, I decided to look up the most popular picnic foods here in America. Besides the obvious hotdogs and hamburgers, I noticed that there were foods listed from every ethnicity. Empanadas, muffaletta sandwiches, chick pea hummus, caprese salad . . . . . This kind of “filled me up” a little. Our country is so great because so many cultures have created it. Interestingly, the most popular picnic food in our country is supposedly potato salad, and the reasoning for this is that you can make so many different varieties of it, that appeal to all different people. (French, Korean, German, Southern Style, Greek etc.) Our country is quite literally a melting pot.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
This quote below is poetic enough for Soul Sunday (a day that we devote to poetry on the blog.) When worded just right, the shortest of statements can hold a volume of poignancy and emotion that would otherwise get leaked and lost in unnecessary ramblings. “Unknown” is perhaps one of the greatest wordsmiths of our time.
None of us truly knows who/what we would die for (no matter what we think, or what we casually and dramatically declare), until we are actually faced with the ultimate, dire choice. Thank you, fallen soldiers. Thank you for your last breaths. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
My greatest beauty secret is being happy with myself. – Tina Turner
RIP – Tina Turner. That voice, those legs, the hair, that huge, gorgeous, light-up-the-room smile . . . what a loss. We were lucky to have her, and her resilience and the inspiration that we all got from her ability to spring back, and own her worth, and share her glorious talent.
I honestly read Tina Turner’s quote above, just a couple of weeks ago, before she passed yesterday, and when I read it, I thought to myself, “That’s the absolute truth.” Whenever I have gotten compliments about how I look, it’s never about my hair being just right, or the outfit being perfect, or my body being in excellent shape. No. It’s always at a time when I feel completely radiant and excited about life. The light of happiness always shines through, and it attracts others like moths to a flame.
I believe that we are all attracted to the light of happiness in other people because happiness is what everyone wants. Everything that you do, or you achieve, or you buy, or you strive for, is because you believe that “whatever it is” will give you the end product of the feeling of “happiness.” We all so easily forget that happiness is a choice. We can choose to be happy no matter what. Yes, is happiness harder to achieve when loved ones are sick, or we are injured, or “times are tough” or “finances are tight”? Sure, of course it’s harder to feel happy during these times in our lives. These times in life bring up a lot of turbulent emotions, but you can work through these emotions. You can always get back to your baseline of “happy with myself”, as Tina Turner puts it, when you compassionately accept your own feelings, work through them, and look in gratitude at your own life, and your own experiences, and your own resilience, and then just bask in the awe of the very experience of being alive, as the one and only you, in a world teeming with beauty and astonishments, everywhere you look. If you work through what’s bothering you, and you come to an acceptance of “what is”, wondrously notice that even if “what is” hasn’t changed and maybe even will never change (a chronic illness, an annoying boss, a tummy bulge, a loved one with an addiction, etc.), you can come to an unbothered, detached state about it. You can still find your base level happiness in any situation . You can deliberately clean off the lens of fear, and uncertainty, and of anger, and of pain, and your own light can brightly shine through it all.
There are people in this world who are physically “perfect” specimens in this world, and yet they are not beautiful, because when a person is unhappy, they are dim. Their energy is dark and cold. The people in this world, who other people are most jealous of, are the people whom others perceive to have things that we believe would make us feel happy . . . fame, beauty, wealth, love relationships, etc. But the truth is, happiness is an inside job. Nothing outside of you can make you happy. Nothing. You can get fleeting feelings of satisfaction and joy, but think about how many times that you have achieved one of your goals, and how surprised you are in the end, that it didn’t quite fill the hole like you were expecting “it” to, and how quickly you move on to a new goal or aspiration.
If you want to be one of the most beautiful, rare, exquisite people in this world, make it your highest goal to be “happy with yourself.” Make it a daily project to find your inner peace, satisfaction, and happiness. Make it your daily practice to constantly bring your mind around to thinking thoughts of gratitude, curiosity, authenticity, acceptance, kindness, hope and light. When you are in that state of happiness, notice it. Feel it. Describe to yourself what it feels like in every molecule of your body. Give your happiness “muscle memory.” Know that this constant light of peace, acceptance, knowingness and happiness resides in all of us, and make it your main goal to let your own light shine. Let your own light shine so bright that others remember that they have that same light inside of their own selves, too. Happiness is everyone’s greatest beauty secret, available to all.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I love this quote. My editor (aka my husband) will read one of my blog posts about something that we both experienced, and he’ll say, “Wow, I didn’t see the story in that, but you did.” And sometimes he’ll try to correct little details to my stories because his memory is different than mine. (And then I’ll get mad, and I’ll insist that my storyteller persona deserves a little creative license) I digress. My overall point is, I do believe that most of us writers, remember a lot of seemingly inconsequential happenings, and we do “remember big.”
The other day, my friend sent to our group chat, a picture of her poor sick baby, all nestled, under warm blankets on the couch. Her baby is now home from college, and immediately came down with some nasty virus going around. Nestled right next to her baby, was my friend’s family’s fur baby, an adorable Yorkie named Skipper, who has been the longtime, perfect family dog, for a family who consists of three beautiful, vivacious daughters. When I texted how cute it was to see Skipper, being right there, comforting one of the beautiful daughters, my friend said that Skipper has always been the family comforter. She then texted a picture of Skipper nestled up, right next to my friend’s father-in-law who had been in hospice care in their home, a few years ago, before he died. “They’re always our wingmen,” I replied. And everyone on the chat agreed. We all love our dogs.
When we visited our son, who attends medical school in a different city, over this past weekend, I noticed a trio of pictures, placed above his computer in his apartment – a place where I imagine that our son spends a great deal of time. The left side picture was one of he and his two brothers, confident and arm-in-arm, on one of our family trips to the great outdoors, the right side picture was of he and his longtime girlfriend, laughing together on the beach, but the middle picture was a giant blow-up of our Labrador retriever’s face. Ralphie, our lab, does have a beautiful, soulful, expressive face. I believe that the picture reminds our son that he has a big, yellow, loyal, goofy, but brilliant wingman, who loves him immensely and unconditionally, and this wingman doesn’t even understand nor give a hoot about medical school. My son’s soulful wingman only cares to be there (even if only in picture form) to be a devoted, supportive form of comfort. How beautiful it is that our furry wingmen feel their own highest form of love and comfort, by just being it.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
+ My Word-of-the-Day daily email taught me “argle-bargle”, today. This is what the meaning is of argle-bargle: “Copious but meaningless talk or writing; nonsense.” It’s a great word. I’ve honestly never seen the word, “argle-bargle”, nor heard the word, “argle-bargle” other than today (honestly, sometimes the Word-of-the-Day tends to get a little “out there” and obscure when it comes to their word choices, in my opinion, but I’m hooked. I read the words daily and I even sometimes try to incorporate some of these words into my own argle-bargle, as I am doing so today.) Admit it. Argle-bargle is a fun word. Try saying it three times fast: Argle-bargle. Argle-bargle. Argle-bargle.
+ The best quote I have read this week (and you know that I love me some great quotes) is this one: “The future has an ancient heart.” – Carlo Levi (Incidentally one of my most kind and loyal, longtime readers, Gail, recommended a book in my Comments recently, and I immediately downloaded it. It is an excellent book and this is where I read the quote. The book is called Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed, who also wrote Wild, which was made into a movie starring Reese Witherspoon) Anyway, “The future has an ancient heart” speaks to me. It is so true and so comforting. It suggests that whatever we are meant to do, and to learn, and to become, is already imprinted in our most primal, wisest DNA. It will find its way out, through many channels, in our lifetimes, individually and collectively. If you ever need to just “let go”, use this quote as your mantra. It’s now going to become one of my own regular mantras. Thank you, Gail, for your most excellent recommendation. This line from the book, alone, is life-changing.
+ I had an experience over the weekend that I’m sure could have probably made a viral Tik-Tok (although I’m honestly not a Tik-Tok fan, so I don’t really know. I’ve always preferred words over video.) We were visiting our son in a major city in our country, and while he was doing his schoolwork, my husband and I visited a swanky section of town for some lunch and some shopping. I found a delightful boutique full of unusual artsy stuff (my favorite kind of shopping) and I decided to purchase a bracelet in the shop. My husband was doing his own thing outside (small artsy boutiques are not his favorite kind of shopping. I’m not sure that my husband actually has a favorite kind of shopping.) The cashier was perhaps a few years older than me (probably in her late 50s) and she mentioned that this boutique was not actually her store, but it was her daughter’s store, and she was just trying to help her daughter out for the afternoon. What ensued next became two technologically challenged middle-aged women trying to figure out how to pay for my item, with the daughter on a Facetime call, trying to guide us through the whole process (“I think that we press this button” . . . “No! No! No! Don’t press that button!” . . . .”The green one!! Green!!”) and then for the cherry on top, add-in the shop-owner’s father, also a technologically challenged middle-ager, who did not have his readers on, and thus promptly pressed a “7” instead of a “1” which almost made me pay seven times what I was supposed to pay, if we hadn’t been saved by hearing his daughter screaming through the phone: “Abort! Cancel the transaction! RED button! RED!!” In the end we got “the system” to work correctly, and I paid the fair price for my lovely bracelet. And the whole time I was thinking, if my kids had been in the shop and had gotten this on video, I might be Tik-Tok famous right now.
+Congratulations, you made it to the end of today’s argle-bargle.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I’ve come to learn that being a mother means that you will regularly have a constant stream of difficult goodbyes, starting when your baby first leaves your womb. And from that excruciating, and yet exhilarating moment, the goodbyes just keep flowing, on and on and on. You say a goodbye, filled with light-sleeping trepidation, when your baby sleeps in the nursery for the first time. You kiss your baby a million times over, and you leave a list of reminders, dozens of pages long, when you leave your baby with a babysitter for the first time. You pry your baby off of your leg the first time you leave your baby at preschool, and then you pry your own fingers off of the door handle of the classroom, and you force yourself to go home. You bravely wave goodbye when your baby steps on to the bus to go to school for the first time. (Usually with sunglasses on, to hide your tears) You go through first dates, graduations, and you help your babies unpack for college, and new apartments, and new adventures, and then when you tell yourself that hopefully you have done everything in your power to help your babies be all set for this particular new adventure in their lives, you let go of your babies, and you say goodbye. Again and again and again. It’s a constant cycle of goodbyes, and the goodbyes never seem to get any easier. It could be that the goodbyes are so hard, because we mothers always carry the background fear that this particular goodbye could be the last goodbye to your baby, and that is about the worst thing any of us mothers can possibly fathom. And yet I know women who have gone through the final goodbyes with their babies, and they are here. And they are still filled with hope, and with life, and with brave, openhearted love to give. I think that there is nothing stronger in this world than a mother’s heart because it has to practice the wrenching process of saying goodbye, again, and again, and again, and yet it constantly replenishes itself with love to share, hope to shine, and strength for the future. A mom constantly extends her heart with a firm hug, a pat on the back, and a “you’ve got this, baby” confident goodbye. And then she turns around, she wipes her tears, and she excitedly anticipates the next “hello.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
We are in yet another city this weekend, visiting our son who is a second year medical student. Our son is more stressed than usual which says a lot when you are in medical school (Medical school is obviously intense and stressful to begin with – the whole family has started to ask for just “the gist” of his experiences, especially when he starts talking about amputations and other emergency room scenarios.) The reason our son is particularly stressed is that he is having to decide on what specialties he wants to hone in on, and so he is going through angsty rounds of “What ifs?”, “Where can I best be utilized?”, “Is work life/balance important?” What if I hate my choice?” . . . . You know the questions. We have all gone through similar handwringing choices throughout our lives.
As a mother, this is when I would love to open my purse and pull out the ever-ready, sparkly, golden magic wand (the proverbial magic wand which we all wish that we had access to). I would show it to my son, with a proud and knowing and able look on my face, and I would bonk it on his head three times, and then I would wiggle my nose and then we would all see a little pink cloud appear with, ta-da, “The One and Only Infallible Perfect Answer!” My son would beam with relief and ease and thank me once again for being such a wonderful, reassuring mother. (and then this is when he would probably ask me which of our four kids would get the magic wand in the will.)
Okay, enough of my stupid fantasy. Of course I don’t have a magic wand and I don’t even have the right un-magic answers to guide my son. We talked about intuition, and prayer, and what just “feels right.” We talked about values, and overall well-being. We talked about practicalities and time. My husband and I talked in circles with our son, trying to ease his stress. At one point, my son mentioned something about reading that you should live your life by thinking about what would be written on your tombstone and what would be said in your eulogy. And that’s when I had, at least to me, a little flicker of a magic wand moment.
Backstory: When we flew down here, my husband insisted that I continue to get out of the dark ages, and he asked me to download yet another airline’s app on to my phone. And so I begrudgingly did it. And in creating my profile I had to answer 542 security questions. (it felt like 542) One question that stood out to me, and was the most easy for me to remember the answer, was the question, “Who was your favorite elementary school teacher?” My favorite elementary school teacher was Mrs. Simmerman, in third grade. She was a tall, elegant Southern woman (in Pittsburgh, PA no less!) and she cared. She oozed care. She wasn’t just teaching little kids facts, she was teaching us to love each other, and to love life. She seemed noble to me. I adored her.
So, as my husband, and our son and I sat at dinner last night, ruminating on his upcoming choices, and my son talk about considering his epitaph in regards to the decision, the whole Mrs. Simmerman security question popped back into my mind. I exclaimed, “G, when you make your decision, remember that when it comes to your life’s end, it doesn’t nearly as much matter WHAT you do, or WHAT YOU ACHIEVED in any field, as it is, HOW you lived you life, HOW you made others feel in your life, and IF YOU MADE A POSITIVE difference doing whatever it is that you end up doing.”
And then much to his chagrin (this reserved young man has never had a mother who embarrasses easily), I asked the two young men who were waiting on us, if they could name right now, in that very instant, their favorite coach or teacher from elementary school. It turns out that the young men were originally from Cuba and they did not speak English well, but when they finally grasped what I was asking them (I gather this is not a regular question which they get from their customers), they both had beautiful, shining expressions on their faces. Their eyes shown. They had instant answers. One young man said, “Mr. Sandoval. He was like a father.” These young men beamed. I beamed. And in some small way, I think that I had a wee little magic wand moment. At least, it felt a little magic to me. And I feel quite confident, that whatever my son decides, he will do just fine.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Two of my favorite feelings in the world are rarely discussed. Happiness, love, joy, glee, pride, excitement, peace, gratitude are all well-known “up” feelings on the feelings wheel/scale, but two of my all-time favorite feelings that I literally bathe in/saturate in/soak fully in and appreciate immensely, beyonds words are: 1) Having my curiosity satisfied (even if something/someone/some happening ends up being terrible, at least I know . . . Wondering is the worst state of limbo and being in limbo is one of my least favorite feelings in the world) and 2) Relief. I had to put a period after the word “Relief” because the feeling of relief is that solidly good. Both of these emotions are “results of results.” Both of these emotions eliminate uncertainty.
Since last summer our family and our extended family has been in what feels like a constant state of having to anticipate, and having to plan for both unusually good and unusually bad life-changing events. There have been graduations, new schools, major illnesses, funerals, dealing with estates, major trips, planning moves to new places, new job offers, etc. etc. etc. There have been so many new decisions to make. Now, I grasp that this is often just the way of life, but sometimes life gets a little clumpy, and since last summer, we’ve been rolling through a big ol’ clump of change that for now, at least, seems to have levelled out a little bit. We can breathe. The storm has passed. The direction ahead seems a little more clear in the windshield. (Now this is the point where I take a pause from writing, and I knock on my wooden desk until my knuckles turn bloody.)
Anyway, for today, I am luxuriating in the feeling of relief, and the gratitude for feeling this sense of relief. The weight feels lifted off of my shoulders. I can feel the grateful pause in my mind, and in my body, and and in my soul. I no longer have a million “What ifs?/How’s this going to go?/What’s next?” swirling around in my mind. I could have lived without the clustered clump of the major highs and the major lows which my family and I just experienced in less than a year, but perhaps the wonderful, cleansing, breathe out moment of relief that I am feeling right now, makes it all worth it.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I thought that the above “card” was better than a poem today. Certain holidays that bring up so much joy, also can bring up an intense amount of pain. Remember, no matter what, today is just a day. And there is no one true definition of love. . . LOVE IS.
And to my children: being your mother is undoubtedly the greatest experience of my life. I love you all, intensely, gently, yet ferociously, forever and ever and ever.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I slept in this morning and it was so delicious. I am taking this “do whatever you want/it’s all about you” Mother’s Day weekend thing quite seriously. So far, so great. And what I want to say to all of you, no matter who you are, or what you are (we all some have feminine energy in us), celebrate Mother’s Day. You don’t have to be an actual mother to understand the wise, serene, fiercely strong beyond measure energy which lies inside all of us. This is the mother/female/yin energy which leans towards protectiveness, and nurturing, and guiding, and sheltering, and hoping, and feeling connected to all living things. This weekend, celebrate everyone in your life who has helped to “mother” you – your own mother, your grandmothers, your aunts, your friends, the neighbor ladies who helped you to grow up, your pets, and most importantly, yourself. You have mothered your own self your entire life and you will do so until you die. Honor your inner mother.
When I was in Rome, I purchased some things in a jewelry boutique, and I connected to the lovely, fashionable young man who owned the shop. The shop owner had an adorable shop dog, an aloof black Chow Chow named Mala (who was as diva as they get). The shop owner and I talked about our mutual love of animals and as I left and I wished him well, that is when he looked at me deeply and he said, “Thank you, mother.” And there was a little twinge of me that was like, “Ah shucks, I’ve clearly reached the age where the youngies never confuse me as their contemporary,” but there was a bigger part of me that swelled with pride and connection and gratefulness that he felt comfort and joy from me . . . the kind of energy that deserves the title, “mother.”
I have this thing about my purpose, lately, that I visualize. I call myself “The Rose Quartz.” When you go into any metaphysical/spiritual shop they usually have bins full of crystals for sale, all used for various purposes. Each crystal is supposed to carry an energy that helps you with various aspects of your life. If you need clarity, you might be lead to buying selenite. If you need courage, you might be advised to buy carnelian. Rose Quartz is often considered to hold the energy of unconditional love. Now, I don’t honestly know if I completely buy into “crystal magic.” I do own many crystals mostly because I am attracted to all things beautiful and shiny. Also, I do believe that everyone and everything which we witness here in life are just various forms of energy (and there are scientific physics laws that prove this). However, there are a great deal of people out there, who do believe that rose quartz is full of the energy of unconditional love. And so if someone is willing to purchase a small pink rock because it helps them to feel the highest form of love in the Universe, why can’t I make it my purpose to be The Rose Quartz in human form? Why can’t I be the The Rose Quartz for my own children, and for your children, and for anyone whom I come into contact with, during the day? I have reached the age, with enough life under my belt, to so appreciate the living Rose Quartzes who have touched my own life throughout my over fifty years of struggle and triumph. I think it is time for me to step into my own Rose Quartz-ness, state of being. I invite you to join me. It’s a beautiful, glowing, calming, change-the-world-and-change-myself-in-the-process (without having to do too much), kind of a purpose.
And in completely other news, I loved the movie version of Are You There God? It’sMe Margaret. So did my 19-year old daughter, and so did the group of sixty-somethings sitting beside us in the theater. There was a lot of Rose Quartz energy I was feeling in that theater yesterday. The two best moments in the movie, in my opinion, were these (SPOILER alert):
When the “too-nice/too eager to please/too codependent” mother of Margaret finally stood up for herself with the overbearing PTA mom and when the PTA mom tried to get Margaret’s mother to volunteer for a gazillion more activities, her mom said this:
“Thank you. I’d really love to, but I don’t want to.” It’s okay to like what you like, to do what you want to do, and to say no. “No” is a full sentence. (Remember this, Rose Quartz – Rose Quartzes show themselves unconditional love, too! And when they do, they give others the ability to feel comfortable to do the same for themselves.)
And finally, when Margaret and her mother had just been through a traumatic, emotional evening and they were both utterly depleted, they sat on the couch together and they cuddled, and the only thing that Margaret’s mother said to her is this, “Isn’t it exhausting trying so hard all of the time?” And Margaret and her mother obviously felt so connected and understood in that moment, and I believe that all of us women in the theater felt so connected and understood in that moment, too. I know that my daughter and I both grabbed each other’s hands. (Remember this, Rose Quartz. Rose Quartzes don’t try. Rose Quartzes just “be.” Rose Quartzes just be what they are – a solid, beautiful, stone, calmly and easily holding the true energy of the Universe – pure, unconditional love. They glow with that energy, so that when others encounter Rose Quartzes, they too, remember to reach deep within, and to feel that same loving energy within themselves.)
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
