Say Cheese

“A second grader drew a picture of me today. I think it was me. It may have been a potato.” – Andi @smiles_and_nods, Twitter

This tweet brought a smile to my face. When our children were little, their preschool did a cruel activity every year where they would tell the children to draw portraits of their parents. We parents would then have to come into the classroom and find our own portraits, which were pasted all over the walls, for all to see. It was an excruciatingly difficult exercise. Most of the pictures appeared to be Picasso style. Our redheaded friend had a leg up. He would always just look for the only orange-haired, Ronald McDonald looking picture of a figure in guy clothes, and I think that he got it right, on the first try, 98 percent of the time.

I honestly hate having any kind of picture taken of me. I avoid pictures as much as I can. I’ve never felt like a natural in front of a camera. I am envious of today’s young ladies’ seemingly innate abilities to strike perfect poses, at the drop of a hat. I think this might be because they are so used to having their pictures taken. Since they were little, their parents have been pointing their phone cameras at them, a million times a day. Having their picture taken is as natural to them as blinking their eyes.

I know that they say that a picture paints a thousand words, but I’ve always been a word girl. If there is a video, I’m always looking for the transcript to the video. I read fast. I like to get to the point of things. I love words. I have always been able to express myself most easily in written form. I wish I felt that way about being photographed and videoed.

I read an article recently that said to get the best pictures of yourself, think of the people you most deeply love while having your picture taken. The article said that grandparents always look best in pictures where they are snuggling their grandchildren. Maybe when you are engulfed in feelings of love, you feel the least critical and judgmental about yourself and others, and that natural state of resting in love, gleams through the camera.

Having Your Picture Taken Quotes & Sayings | Having Your Picture Taken  Picture Quotes

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

Monday-Funday

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Credit: @Emsrsue (Twitter)

This meme is truly not fair to my husband. I think there are times when he would have liked to have been more involved in the gift buying, but my alter-ego, “Karen Controlfreak” would not allow it. Still, this picture reminds me of every man I ever knew growing up. And I mean this fondly. These men worked their asses off for their families, and they always had a smile on their face wondering what their hard work was providing for others. Selfless, in many ways, really.

Here are some other tweets that captured my fancy, this morning:

One day I woke up and realized I am the dragon, not the princess. -@_desert_bones

Your confidence needs to be built from within. If it is built on compliments, it will shatter with criticism.- @WakeupPeopIe

Learn the difference between your intuition guiding you and your trauma misleading you. -@Positive_Call

Me: Ok, I’m wearing a nice outfit, I did my hair and makeup. I guess I look pretty ok! Camera: Bitch, you thought. -@momsense_ensues

Well before I agree to 2022 I need to see the terms and conditions -@frenziedlanes

Have a great week, my beloved readers!! See you tomorrow!!

****Friends, as I was wrapping up today’s post, this appeared in my backyard. Santa came early!!! There’s magic everywhere, all throughout the year. Notice it. It’s there.

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

Soul Sunday

RIP Anne Rice

I’m sorry for the delay in publishing today. We are all fine. I’m just distracted. Much like I am the ultimate impulse shopper, I am also the ultimate clickbait queen, on the internet. And to think, I have the nerve to make fun of our Labrador, Ralphie, when he chases the glimmering reflections of light on the floor, from the sunlight coming through our chandelier. (If you ever have a blindspot to your own behavior, look to what you criticize and/or poke fun about others, and then look for that trait in yourself. If you put down your guard, you will find it. Ugh.)

Since I got so busy going down the rabbit hole of clickbait, I am not in my writing mode. So instead, I started scrambling looking for poems that I liked (since Sunday is poetry day on the blog), written by other people, to share with you all, and I just finally landed on one that I like. Below is a fun poem by the author Brian Bilston, from his collection, You Took the Last Bus Home.

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Write a poem, today. Play with words. Play with punctuation. Let your inner creator come out today. Play! Play?!? Play. Play . . . . .

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

Everything Parent

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

This past weekend, my husband and I took a short flight (versus a 5.5 hour drive) to celebrate with our son as he got his “white jacket” from his medical school. In my experience, the airports are indeed crowded, the flights are full, and quite honestly, no one was being a jerk. Everyone wore their masks. Everyone was polite and patient and aware of keeping as much social distance as possible. Even when we were all boarded on to a plane headed home, and then after a stuffy, 45-minute wait on the airplane, when we were told that we would need to exit the plane because there were engine issues due to a bird strike from the previous flight, everyone, on this totally full flight, quietly took it on the chin. No one complained, not even the woman whom I overheard telling her children that their connecting flight got changed to the next day, and that they might have to spend the night in the airport. “It is what it is,” I heard her say to them.

Now luckily, they found us a new airplane almost immediately. My husband and I were just flying home, so instead of getting home mid-afternoon, we were going to arrive home in the late afternoon. No big deal. My husband and I weren’t too worked up, but there were plenty of people who were going to be missing events and connections, from conversations that I overheard. Yet, people seemed genuinely patient and understanding and “rolling with the punches.” This struck me as a new and unusual experience. When I have experienced these types of scenarios in the past, I can remember hot-headed, angry, red, vein-bursting faces screaming at the gate agents, impervious yelling, tears, and overall, just a much higher level of entitlement and “woe is me” from the crowds (maybe even sometimes from myself?!). It was noticeably different this time. Could this be a good thing that has come from this pandemic? I suppose that I could have just been flying with a particularly peaceful group of people, but part of me thinks that there is something more to my experience. Perhaps like many terrible events, this pandemic has brought to us much horror, but yet also, it has given to many of us, the gift of perspective and camaraderie. We are all in this together. We are doing our best. Despite all of the pain and hardship and negativity, we are making it through, and the things that we used to take for granted (such as flying), we are just so grateful to still be able to experience them again, even when there are blips involved. I felt quite hopeful about humanity after this experience.

And now this:

Moms, I also had a touching and heartwarming experience on this very same flight that will show you that perhaps what this child really means, in the above tweet, is that Mommy is her favorite “everything parent.” As my regular readers know, I am an ashamed, yet admitted eavesdropper. ( I think that most of us writers are – it’s part of observing life.) On the flight mentioned above, seated ahead of me, across the aisle from each other, were two attractive twenty-somethings, one male and one female, casually chatting with each other, for the first time, from what I could gather. They young man had a large scar on his arm and he told the story that he had been in a horrible car accident, that had put him into the ICU for eleven days. He had gotten the scar from the accident. People had told him to put a tattoo over it, but he said that he liked the scar. It reminded him about how fragile life really is, and how important it is to treasure life. The young woman had a similar story related to an inoperable problem with her foot that made it impossible for her to play the sport that she dearly loved. (I didn’t hear what the sport was, but it wasn’t volleyball, because he asked her if it was “volleyball” and she laughed and she said that people always ask her that because she is so tall. I was about to ask her, “Well, what sport was “taken” from you?” but then I bit my tongue, because of course, I couldn’t ask that, due to the fact that I was eavesdropping. That’s rude to interject like that, especially when you are eavesdropping.) Overall, these two young people had amazing attitudes and I was more than impressed with both of them and their lovely conversation. (and I was kind of hoping for a romantic charge between them, like in the movies, but that was not to be.) Instead, the young woman thanked the young man for a wonderful conversation and she told him how inspired she was by his story. He said, “Thank you. I really owe it all to my mom. She has given me so much encouragement and insight, all of my life.” The young woman decidedly replied, “Yes, my mom is the same way! I don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then she smiled at him, and then turned to her book, and their beautiful conversation ended.

And I sat there in my own seat, with a big smile on my face, and a glow in my heart (and a couple of tears in my eyes) because I thought to myself, there are two lovely, wise women out there who have raised two incredible, and kind, and positive people, and these moms are getting all of the credit and unabashed glory, and they don’t even know it. Sometimes, throughout the years, motherhood can feel like a “thankless job”. This I know. But moms, I heard your children’s genuine gratefulness for you, on just a random casual weekend. And I, a perfect stranger to you and to your children, felt genuinely grateful for the promising young people that you have raised to share a world with my own dear children. I deeply echo your wonderful children’s words. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You are my favorite “everything” parent.

Soul Sunday

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.

The Funny Thing About Life

Life is funny. Life gets really interesting when you start to dig deep. Life is truly at its best, when you are willing to scratch beneath the surface and to truly experience it, at its most authentic, interesting fullness. Life gets really real, when you let yourself deep dive into your feelings. This past 24 hours I have gotten to know, and to love, people who I have known since I was a child, even better than ever. This past 24 hours, I have made new and fast and devoted friends with people whom I had once kept at a cautious and competitive distance. This past 24 hours I have grown an even more massive respect for my child’s coach, only because his pure humility never allowed him to share, with any of us, his true and poignant story of hope and triumph, until I pretentiously pried it out of him. This past 24 hours I have prepared myself (as much as I can) for the upcoming ceremony that says to me, and to the world, that another child of mine, is striding into his adult life, with me being relegated as a supportive and loving witness and cheerleader. In these past 24 hours, I let myself fall into a pure and open and intricate and trusting and total experience of staying in the present. It feels like I may have dropped another layer – a layer that I had once created with the thought that it was there to protect me, but instead was only working as a hazy muffler, to the purest sounds and vibrations of a life lived fully, and intensely connected to the moment. This last 24 hours was so amazingly good, even though everything didn’t always adhere to my “shoulds” and to my hopeful expectations and to my plans. Life is funny. Life gets really interesting when you just let it happen. Life is good. Life knows the way.

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

“What day is it?” asked Pooh.
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favorite day,” said Pooh.”
― A.A. Milne

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

Monday Fun-Day

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I love this story! I love uplifting stories. Recently, a friend of mine offered up a helpful tool to use when you are at a major crossroads point in your life. She said to ask yourself, “What story do I want to tell?” This question is a great question to wake you up, out of your immediate emotional knee-jerk reactions. This question forces you to consider the long-term ramifications of your actions, on you, on your life, and on the effects your actions have on other important people in your life. You are writing the story of your life, friends. What story do you want to tell?

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

Friday, you look Great!

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Good morning friends! Today is my favorite day of the week and typically on “Favorite Things Friday” I list three favorite things or songs or books or movies, etc. that make the tactile world we live in, so much fun. My process is this: when I revel in a “favorite”, I run to my Barnes and Noble Desk Diary calendar (a previous, and still all-time favorite) and I scribble that particular favorite anything, on my nice large Friday space. Unfortunately, today’s space is filled with plenty of “to do” stuff, but alas, no favorites. This morning, I was lamenting this with my husband, scrambling to find “favorites” and asking him to brainstorm with me. My husband reminded me that I treasure my authentic connection with my readers, so I can’t be fake, and pretend to love and to adore anything that I have barely tried. So, today, I have no favorites to share. Please forgive me. As I have mentioned, I am in the midst of a three week period, crammed with “big ‘stuff’, events, celebrations, concerns, etc.” that in an ideal world, would be spread out a little more evenly throughout the year. It’s like having too much salt on one part of your meal. That salt tastes better when it is evenly spread, but such is life, sometimes! I’m rolling with it, and I’m trying to stay in the moment.

The other night, I was returning 18,000+ HomeGoods decorative items (only a slight exaggeration), because we are in the middle of changing around our bedrooms and as we all know, what looks good in the store, doesn’t necessarily translate at home. In trying to appease the understandably exasperated sales clerk, I started listing all of the things which we have going on in our family life (which precipitates me having to get my rooms in order, in a big hurry), all happening in this short time period. As I was doing this, I was incredibly annoyed with myself. It’s so lame to do this. The clerk isn’t going to remember any of that stuff, which has nothing to do with her, and frankly, she doesn’t care. Nor should she care. Yada yada yada. But I kept on rattling on and on. Eww. Yuck. I don’t owe the clerk an explanation. She doesn’t owe me anything but courteousness. So much nervous energy happening, as I spout out loud, what my frenzied, and emotionally charged calendar events look like throughout the rest of this month. But you know what? We were both wearing masks, but we caught each other’s eyes and our eyes smiled, knowingly and warmly, at each other. We got it. Two middle-aged women who have been around the block a few times, gave to each other, in just that one look, the feeling of understanding, humor, empathy and reassurance. That, my friends, is the beauty of our shared humanity. And that shared humanity will always, always be a favorite of mine. I revel in it! Have a great weekend!!!

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

Beautiful Mother Earth

Happy Earth Day! “Earth Day” and I were born in the same year – 1970, although the Earth, herself, is actually 4.543 billion years old. Damn, it sure took us a while to realize that maybe we should celebrate Earth, and to work on not taking her so much for granted (and we really are just at the beginning baby steps on that quest, aren’t we?). What do you love most about Mother Earth? Is it her endless gifts? Is it her awe-striking beauty? Is it her resilience? Is it her loyalty and steadfastness? Is it her ability to house and to feed a whole plethora of living beings? Is it her healthy, reliable relationship with the sun and the moon and the stars? If there was one utterly, genuine physical example of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, Mother Earth is the ultimate, in the “unconditional giving and loving” regard. On this day, and every day, dearest, most beautiful, most awe-striking, most loving, most nurturing, most hospitable Mother Earth, we humbly say thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“We should honor Mother Earth with gratitude; otherwise our spirituality may become hypocritical.” – Radhanath Swami

“Treat the earth well: it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our Children.” – Native American Proverb

“Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister, Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.” – Francis of Assisi

“When we recognize the virtues, the talent, the beauty of Mother Earth, something is born in us, some kind of connection, love is born.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

“How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!” – Emily Dickinson

“We still do not know one thousandth of one percent of what nature has revealed to us.” – Albert Einstein

Lovely quote about the world for Earth Day

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

We Don’t Misjudge

Iyanla Vanzant wrote, “Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed.  You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; But eventually, it will ooze through and stain your life.  You must find the strength to open the wounds, Stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them.”

I used this quote in my writing before, but I was reminded of this particular quote again, late last week. I’ve mentioned that we are having all sorts of fun with home renovations and repairs this spring. We all know that when it comes to home projects, that these projects beget more projects, and then more projects, and all the while profusely bleeding money, with sanity flowing out the door, as well. So much fun. Ha!

We had drywallers out last week to repair holes in walls from a plumbing break, and also to do some cosmetic changes in our bedrooms which we are switching all around. While repairing one of our walls, by a large picture window in our kitchen, the drywallers discovered a mess underneath the wall. There had been a roof leak and while the leak had long been repaired, with a brand new roof, before we even moved into our house, the damage had already seeped into the wall. This roof leak caused all sorts of wood rot and decay in the wall which remained and festered and weakened, unbeknownst to us.

My second son is graduating from college at the end of the month. In light of this, our contractor hesitantly gave us the option to just quickly plaster the wall back up, as a temporary cosmetic fix. As disgusting as the sheer plastic looks, over the disintegrating entrails of the inside of our wall, (right now, I feel like I am living in the Amityville Horror, because of holes in parts of the wall, the plastic sheeting moves in and out rhythmically, as if the house were breathing), we chose not to do the quick fix. I’m pretty sure that the quick fix is probably what the previous owners chose to do. But deep down, we know that this problem must be fixed now, for the long term health and structure of our home, and for those it so stoutly houses and comforts and protects.

You can see where I am going with this analogy. The yucky stuff underneath doesn’t magically go away, just because you cover it up with something. The wounds underneath will fester and grow and become infected and seep out and affect everything around you, until you face the demons. And we all have them. We think we fool people with what image that we are imagining that we are portraying out to the world, but usually we are just fooling ourselves. Plus its lonely living an image. You can’t have a real, authentic relationship with yourself or with anyone else, if you aren’t willing to expose what is inside and outside – the good, the bad and the ugly.

It’s the strongest people in the world, who admit they have problems and look for ways to heal. And usually, healing is often just a matter of the process of feeling your feelings. Healing is allowing ourselves to feel, and to move through those feelings. I was watching a Red Table Talk episode recently. The guest was a therapist and writer named Michaela Boehm. Michaela was helping people on the show deal with all sorts of grief: the ending of relationships, the burning down of a home, even people grieving the loss of their big wedding plans because of COVID. She recommended that the people write (in their own handwriting) letters, never to be seen by anyone else, every single day, just getting every feeling and emotion and “revenge fantasy” out until there was no feeling left. She then said that when you finally get to that point of real detachment, you then create for yourself a little personal ritual that puts an ending and a form of closure to whatever it is that you are grieving. She suggested perhaps burning all of the letters which you have written. She emphasized the importance of not rushing the process. You will know when the time has come for the closing ritual. You will know.

That’s another important point Michaela Boehm made. In her words:

“Here’s a horrible truth. We don’t misjudge.” This came after a person was talking about losing a sense of trust in themselves and their own discernment, after being deceived in a relationship. Michaela said this, “The learning isn’t to become better at distinguishing it (referring to red flags, etc.), the learning is to listen to ourselves and to not override what we know is true.” In other words, stop putting all of the focus on the other person and what they are doing, and instead put that energy into being attuned to yourself and to your standards and to believe in your own “knowing”. Michaela said that we so often want the fairytale in our minds to be true, that we ignore the reality of what we see.

I think this is what is meant with all of this talk of creating a relationship with ourselves. This is why it is so important to become willing to open up the plaster walls and to face what is inside. To acknowledge our pain, and to accept our pain, and to feel our pain, is the only way to love ourselves back to health. And the beauty of doing this work of self-reflection, self-awareness, self-acceptance and self-love, is that we become clean and whole, from the inside out, and that healthy energy, in turn, attracts more of the same into our lives, in the form of our relationships and in our every day circumstances. I will close with the mantra that you have seen practically every single day on this blog, this year. It bears repeating:

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