Tag: life

Thoughts for Thursday

+ I saw a friend from my neighborhood the other day. She called out, “Hi, Doll!” She calls me and all of other her friends “Doll.” I still remember a college friend who always called me and her other friends, “Darlin’ “. (not darling, but Darlin’) Both of these ladies roll out these terms of endearment so easily and naturally. It’s just part of their vernacular. I love it. I wish that I felt more comfortable doing this. It makes me feel pretty special when I am part of the Doll/Darlin’ circle. I don’t particularly like it when anyone calls me “Honey”, though, especially people who are younger than me (which is becoming more and more the majority, sigh). I often wonder how these things come about. Did my friends decide one day, “I think that I am going to call the friends whom I really like, a special term, like “Doll” or “Darlin’ “? Did they try it out carefully on one or two people to see how these people reacted? Did they feel shy or unnatural at first when doing it? Did it roll off of their tongues as easily as it does now? Perhaps the bigger question is, do I think (overthink) too much about things like this? I’m pretty sure that I do, Darlin’. Is it possible that my friends just call everybody Doll/Darlin’ because it’s easy, and you don’t have to worry about screwing up names? It’s possible, Doll.

+ Two of our sons got married this year. Both couples wrote their own vows. I love this change in tradition. It feels so meaningful, personal, emotional and more true to themselves, as a couple. I heard the word “accountable” more than once in this last set of vows. I loved this. I soaked it in. Accountability doesn’t seem to be as prevalent or important these days, as a value people hold in esteem. Trying to find someone or something else to blame, or to sue (where I live, billboards for lawyers are as common as our palm trees), sometimes seems like more of the norm. It’s uncomfortable to hold someone else accountable. It’s hard to hold ourselves accountable. It’s really difficult to accept that sometimes, sh*t just happens and no one’s to blame. The truth is though, it’s only when we own our own parts/actions/reactions in any relationship or situation, that we have the power to do anything about it. Why are we so quick to give our power away? It’s probably because of shame. And that’s a damn shame, because shame doesn’t do good for anybody.

+ Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit (look it up)

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

Half-Cocked

An old friend of mine recently texted me. She asked me how I am doing with the empty nest. She admitted that she was grieving a little bit, in her new state of “just the two of us”. She is happy that her kids are doing well and living great lives on their own, but she misses them and feels a little lost in her new state of being.

It is so brave to admit when we are grieving, but yet this admittance is so necessary, for us to be able to process it, and to move through it. Why is grief so hard to admit to? We easily tell people when we are happy, or angry, or hungry, or frustrated, but we have a harder time admitting to the more vulnerable (but equally as human) emotions like sadness, fear, loneliness and grief and even, love. Are we afraid that we will get “attacked when we’re down”? Do we believe that we are the only ones who feel all of these emotions, from every category and version of mad, glad, sad and scared?

During a tough season in my life, I asked a trusted advisor, “What is wrong with me? What’s my disorder?” “You’re grieving,” he simply stated. And when he said that, I felt a mixture of relief, defensiveness, frustration, surrender and acknowledgment. I was sad. I was at a really low-point, but it gave me ground. It gave me a starting point to work from. There was nothing I needed to “fix.” There was nothing I needed to “fight.” There was nothing I needed to “avoid and distract myself from.” I just needed to own my own grief, to give myself grace, to let myself feel it, and by doing that, understand that my grief wasn’t going to engulf me. I could continue to live my life, alongside my grief, until that grief settled itself inside of me, no longer a gaping, bleeding wound, but now just a scar, nestled among other physical and emotional scars I have, that are just proof that I am courageously and curiously living a life, as a human on this earth.

My husband and I watched the first episode of the sixth season of Slow Horses last night. (If you haven’t already watched Slow Horses, start now. It’s a great series.) There is a scene where Gary Oldman’s character, Jackson Lamb (who is blunt, no-nonsense, rude, even gross, but utterly thrilling to watch) speaks to his underling, River Cartwright, about grieving the recent death of his grandfather, who raised River. These are the exact lines:

“The state you’re in, wound up like a spring.

You’re liable to go off half-cocked and get yourself in trouble.

I mean, you gotta either let it out or keep it in, but you can’t do both at once.”

This is great advice for any of us experiencing grief. Grief doesn’t just come from death. Grief is usually a common companion to any change or ending in our lives, even when the change is good and the ending is welcome. And as the saying goes, “Change is the only constant.” Therefore, it follows that grief is probably a relative constant in our lives. We don’t want to accept this, because we forget that while grieving, we can also feel gloriously happy at the same time. We can feel every emotion in the book, while we are in a state of grieving. Grieving is just the natural process of accepting that a change has happened, and accepting all of the flood of different emotions that comes with any change. We can grieve gracefully when we don’t judge ourselves for our feelings. When we can allow ourselves to feel our feelings, and to accept that we are in a natural, human state of grieving, we are less likely to “go off half-cocked and get ourselves into trouble.”

I was on Reddit this morning, reading all of the gossip that is going on with Dolly Parton’s estate. Apparently, there is already infighting and deception, involving her family and her manager and others. One redditor said something to the effect, “You always see the worst in people during death, divorce and weddings.” Two of our sons got married this year. I had to giggle at this redditor’s statement, because honestly, before the weddings occurred, I could sometimes feel myself getting petty, and sometimes forgetting that the weddings were the couples’ special day and not anybody else’s. I had to remind myself that a wedding is just one day (albeit a very special day) in the span of decades of sharing lives together as a family. I had to remind myself, that big events make everyone’s emotions heightened, including mine. A dear one of mine, recently gave me advice about something entirely different. She said, “Let it play out.” And so, I did. And miraculously, the situation I was worrying over, is playing itself out perfectly. And so did the weddings. And I am so relieved and proud.

Surrender is not weakness. Surrender is acceptance. And with acceptance, comes the starting point of clear direction, and peace, and faith and true strength. And all of these things can happen at once, even in a deep, dark state of grieving. Accept. Surrender. Let it play out.

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

To Everything There is a Season

Tomorrow is the fall equinox. This timing is not lost on me. My husband and I are about to enter the threshhold of the “true” autumn of our own lives together. This year emphatically marked the end of the robust summer season of our adult lives together. When our youngest, and our only daughter, moved out this summer, it pronounced the final period of raising our family, and the rearranging of our nest, to make the most of its new emptier, quieter spaces.

Recently, I have found myself uncharacteristically nostalgic about the past seasons of my life. I have collected some old toys and dolls from the springtime of my childhood, telling myself that they are for my future grandchildren . . . but are they? I think that my inner child is fully enjoying them for the time being.

I have unabashedly celebrated the joyous occasions of our sons’ weddings, marking the beginning of the summer seasons of their own lives, with their own wives. My reliable, nagging foresight told me that this was all in the near horizon, and so thankfully, my husband and I made the changes to our living situation, preparing our nest to be more suitable for just the two of us, after long living in the fun, chaotic, messy, loud, revolving door of a houseful of six (plus always a menagerie of pets). We walk through these large wooden doors of Autumn, prepared as we can be.

I am witnessing the stoic, resound, elegant winters of my elders, with a mix of awe, appreciation, and even a little confusion and sadness that the seasons change for all of us. There is no stopping time. There is no freezing children in their innocence. There is no preserving our wise, steady ones in robust, non-aging bodies. There is no Energizer Bunny keeping me as sharp and vigorous as the beginning of my blossoming adulthood in the early summer season of my life. Sigh.

And yet, it is all so beautiful. Every season is just so breathtakingly lovely, in its own unique way. And that’s what gets to me every time. That is what has my eyes filled and my throat choked as I write this. . . . . The poignancy. The masterful plan of Mother Nature. The Spirit that holds each and every one of us, walking with us, through each unique season of our lives. It is all so beautiful to experience, if we take the time to behold and reflect on the wonders that each season of our lives offers to us.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die.
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to build up, a time to break down.
A time to dance, a time to mourn.
A time to cast away stones.
A time to gather stones together.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time of love, a time of hate.
A time of war, a time of peace.
A time you may embrace.
A time to refrain from embracing.

To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to gain, a time to lose.
A time to rend, a time to sow.
A time for love, a time for hate.
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.

– lyrics from Turn, Turn, Turn by The Byrds

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

Epic

I arrived home late yesterday night from a 14 day journey throughout England, Wales and Scotland, that also included the real-life, fairy-tale wedding, in an old English castle, of our son and our daughter-in-law. Someone recently told me that we overuse the word “epic” in today’s society, and I agree. However, the physical, emotional and spiritual adventure that I just experienced deserves the adjective “epic”, and maybe something even more.

My courageous, ambitious husband insisted that we rent a car for our journey, which, other than for the wedding, we traveled mostly on a total whim, which ended up with us staying in nine different establishments throughout the United Kingdom, while my husband drove (on the “wrong” side of the road) precariously through almost 1400 miles of teeny one lane roads, meant to be shared by everyone, including cars headed in both directions, bicyclists and even an occasional cow or sheep.

Having already fully experienced London a couple of years ago, we headed right out to the Cotswolds from Heathrow (yes, the Cotswolds are every bit as charming and lovely as you imagine it). We explored Oxford University, met up with family in Bath and toured the ancient Roman baths and then we luxiariated in the modernized version of the baths, at our hotel. Next, we headed to the wedding, which turned into everything my daughter-in-law, and her very English mother, had conjured up in their most wild of imaginations, since our daughter-in-law was a little girl, ending up as a beautiful, magical, almost unreal occasion, finalized with a stunning surprise fireworks display. Coming off from the high of the wedding, my husband and I did the most intriguing part of the journey for me – we explored Wales, from bottom to top. I recently found out that the largest percentage of my DNA is actually Welsh, and so my interest was selfishly heightened. I adored Wales (and their Welsh cakes). My husband kept saying “this place is just so untouched.” We drove from one adorable, hobbit like village to another – one cuter than the next. There were flowers everywhere, nestled among the most captivating little archaic homes and cottages. I felt like we happened upon a “best kept secret”, mystical little countryside, almost as if we had walked through the wardrobe, into Narnia. One night, in a small town on the coast of Wales, we ended up in a pub, where a woman just a year older than me was celebrating her birthday. She and I bonded, I suppose because of our similar ages and sensibilities (or perhaps lack thereof), and when I told her about my Welsh heritage, the entire establishment sang a beautiful ballad in Welsh (which brought me to tears), because I told her that I wanted to hear Welsh spoken (Welsh sung is even better). What I love about the pubs in the United Kingdom, is that every age is represented. There are older men in three piece suits and caps, dancing with their wives, right along side the young lads and ladies, and they all bond together, singing their ancient songs of their ancient lands, full of pride and community and onenness. From Wales, we capped off our trip, driving into the deep wilds of Scotland. Starting in the stately Ediburgh, and then ending up deep into the rugged Scottish Highlands, we hiked among herds of peaceful, curious sheep, feeling lost in time and in the melding of our own innate nature, with the awestriking, formidable, beautiful, timeless nature all around us, panoramically, for as far as the eyes can see. We spent our final night in Glasgow which is a fun, irreverent, artsy, university town. On the last night, my husband and I both sat, hand-in-hand, in our shared joy, truly satiated by having our curiosities fed and satisfied by wonders of every kind, which beat both of our expectations, in spades.

I could bore you with an intricate slide show, and details that are probably only important to me, but I won’t. That being said, I know that anyone having an adventure in the United Kingdom will find something to love, and something that breaks them open to the profound wonder in their hearts, in the deepest, most personal way possible. Trust me on this. Go. Make the United Kingdom, a “Bucket List Must.” My only real disappointment in our trip, is that the Scottish Highland cows aren’t nearly as prolific as the plethora of schlock in the souvenier shops would lead you to believe. We really had to go searching for particular farms to see these “heilan coos” in person, but it was worth it. Yes, they are adorable!

Truthfully, though, the epic road trip was just a divine sideshow. The real major happening in my heart, is that another child of mine, committed themselves fully and publicly, to the love of his life. And I’m not worried about these precious babies of mine. Having been high school sweethearts, attending college together, going through medical school (him) and physician assistant school (her) in the worldly, wild city of Miami, and supporting and loving each other through all ten years of these intense growing up years of their lives, I want to believe that the rest of it all is going to be (welsh)cake for them, from here on out. Of course, I want this. All of us parents want life to be wonderful, easy and happy for our children. And a lot of the time it is. And also, a lot of the time it isn’t. But what truly feeds my heart with gratefulness, is that another one of my children has found someone who loves him as deeply as I love him. My son has found a person who wants only the best for him, and wants to share in that with him for the rest of their lives. As a parent, the relief and the joy and the gratitude and the pride that you feel when your child has partnered up with a soul as kind, and as solid, and as devoted as they are, is almost overwhelming. Life is better shared. I am lucky enough to know this personally. And this year, two of my children have headed further down the paths of their own lives, hand in hand, with their true, devoted loves. And all I have to say is about this is thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. In my life, this is what is truly epic.

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

Checking In About Checking Out

Dear Readers,

It occurred to me that I have been carefully checking in with the people whom I am closest to – letting them know that I care, even if I seem distant and/or unavailable, lately. I have been telling my loved ones that I am just in a digestion state of all of the change that has occurred (and is occurring) in a short period in my life, and I best sort out my thoughts and my feelings in my solitude. I ask them to be patient with me. I remind those dearest to me that I love them and I care about them. You, my readers, are a very important relationship in my life. I appreciate you, and I am grateful for you, more than you know. I realize that I owe you this same consideration. Please be patient with me. I love you.

When I was young, I naively thought that all change was relatively instantaneous. People are single. Then they get married. People are students, then they are professessionals. People are childless. Then they are parents. People are alive, then they die. The truth is much more nuanced. Even changes that seem sudden on the outside, usually take a great deal more time to process and to move through on an internal basis. A change happens, and then we have to work through that change to come to a level of peace and acceptance with it. Most change comes with heavy doses of both joy and grief. We are changed by change, but this internal change never happens in minutes, or days, even if the physical change itself, did happen, out of left field, in a mere instant.

Recently, a memory from twelve years ago, popped up on my feed. It was a picture of us dropping our eldest child at college for the first time. Our four children have happy/sad expressions on their faces. They are standing closer to each other than usual. They don’t know what to expect. None of us did. Change brings fear because it is a walk into the unknown. Change also brings excitement because it is a walk into the unknown. In all of these twelve years since that picture was taken, all four of our children ended up attending that same university and graduating from it (our youngest child graduated from there, this past May). They have since all started their professional lives and embarked on their complete independence from us, their misty-eyed, reluctant, hopeful and relieved parents. This year, our eldest son got married. Our second eldest son is getting married in two weeks. When I looked at that photograph from 12 years ago, I thought to myself, “That was the very beginning of the end of my raising children, and now, this year, I am at the end of the end of raising children.” This change in my life has physically taken twelve years. I think that this major transition I’ve been going through, may even take a little bit longer to set in for me, both mentally and spiritually. I am quietly and reflectively guiding myself towards peace and acceptance. I am allowing both the grief and the excitement that only major life changes can bring, settle into my heart and into my being and into my understanding and wisdom.

So, this was my long way of saying, “Don’t give up on me. Adulting – Second Half isn’t going anywhere. In fact, I have a hunch that it even may come back with a vengeance, as writing is the best way I process anything in my life.” We are taking a long trip right after the wedding, so I may not be back here until later in September. But, assuredly, I will be back!

I’m going to end with this quote, I read recently (you know I love me some quotes):

“Be crumpled. So wildflowers will come up where you are. You have been stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.” – Rumi

See you later in September! (please read some of the archives in the meantime – there are some gems in there)

Much love,

Kelly

Monday’s Maxims

+ “Behind every great recipe there is a grandmother. We call ours “Cuddy”!” – from a package of Chunk Nibbles

This is the first time I have heard “Cuddy” for a grandmother’s name and I just love it. I do believe that the best recipes I have ever gotten are from my grandmothers and my great-grandmother. Not too long ago, I brought out some old recipes for a neighborhood gathering and I was told that they were total “crack” and couldn’t be left alone until they were all gone. So much is store bought these days, that baking from scratch tastes extra good, doesn’t it? Nostalgia must be the secret ingredient. My mother-in-law taught my daughter how to bake (I am not at all a kitchen wizard) and I still have fond memories of watching them spend an afternoon in our kitchen together. Baking is bonding.

+ “Adopt the pace of nature: Her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Why do we go out in nature in order to relax? Because there is no “hurried” energy in nature. Nature is in acceptance of what is. Nature sits in faith that everything will unfold as it should, in its own time.

+ “The entire world you see is an afterthought.” – Alan Cohen

What are you seeing in the world? Are you wearing the right glasses? What you experience through your senses is then translated through your mind, using labels, beliefs, lessons, media, past experiences, emotion, other people’s influences, etc. We could both be looking at the exact same world and be translating it in entirely different ways. You could look at the identical object/scene you are observing today, and see it in an entirely different way tomorrow. Make sure that your translator is up to snuff.

+ “You fear losing what was never yours. Nothing belongs to you but the journey.” – Shams-e Tabrizi

We don’t even get to leave here with our bodies. Our true treasure is the adventures of our every day lives. Learning to let go of attachments is one of the hardest lessons in life, isn’t it?

+ “There is no fail. You either win or learn.” – Gary Keller

Our daughter has just recently started her new job and as always, she is being extra hard on herself for not being perfect at it, from the starting gate. If we learn from the lessons of our mistakes, there is never a loss. I know these words fall short on her now, but in hindsight, there is no doubt she will see the truth of it. What we learn “the hard way” is what sticks with us the most.

Happy Monday! Happy New Month! Happy New Week!

“Every dawn is a new beginning.”

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

A Girl Named Sue

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize what most people want more than anything is a witness to their story. Why do we think that social media has become so popular? Most people just want someone to listen. Most people want to be validated and comforted that they are doing their best as they experience the incredulousness of living a life on this Earth. Yesterday, I was trying to get a million errands done because we are having company this weekend. However, the cashier who was waiting on me at one of my stops, clearly needed me to hear her story. I sensed this – intuitively but also because she mentioned to me more than once that she had not had an easy life. To be fair, I was also sensing my own inner aggravations about time limits, and I was feeling the impatience of the people behind me, but something told me that it was more important in that particular moment that I could easily fulfill an obviously strong need of another living being to be heard, by just intently listening. I am a big believer in boundaries, but I am a bigger believer in listening to my intuition and my inner spirit, and something deeply calmed in me, and so I became a listener, a witness, and a validator to a woman named Sue.

Sue was an orphan of Indian descent. She was raised by nuns in a convent in Ediburgh, Scotland. Most of the nuns were good, sweet ladies, but the head nun was horrific, mean and controlling. Sue was a natural student and so by the age of 15, the head nun had made Sue start teaching the other children at the orphanage. Sue knew that this was not right. Sue was still a child herself. She told the head nun this fact and was dearly punished for it. So Sue kept calm, put her head down, kept with her studies, and despite the nuns pressuring her to stay at the convent and teach, she left the orphanage at the age of 18 and continued at university, while also working and living in a small apartment with five other women. Sue became an educator in a school of her choosing, and won more than one teaching award throughout her career. Sue also met the love of her life, an older man and a doctor. They married, had two children and Sue was living the life of her dreams, but unfortunately her husband suddenly passed away. At that time, her two young children begged Sue to move from Scotland to New York City, as Scotland was the land of their father and there were too many memories for all of them to bear there. So Sue finished raising her kids in New York City, and both of them have gone on to be successful in their lives and have families of their own. Sue’s children and friends all thought that she should remarry, but Sue felt that she already experienced the one great love of her life. When Sue retired, for better winter weather, she chose to move on her own to Florida, with her children’s blessing. Sue likes cashiering because she likes to keep busy and to meet people. I told Sue, “You have always had a strong spirit, it seems.”

She sighed, “I didn’t have a choice.”

I said to her, “I know that you didn’t want any of these hardships, but you stepped up to the plate. You met them. You endured and even thrived.”

Sue clasped my hands and thanked me. “He died 22 years ago today,” she said with watery eyes. And it was then that my heart knew that I was right to listen to it, and to hear Sue. And not surprisingly, I got everything done that I needed to get done for the rest of the day.

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

Monday Got Me Good

“How alive your heart to feel such sorrow!” – from Catherine Newman’s bestselling book, Sandwich

So last month, I was out to lunch with two friends and our one friend gave each of us a different book that she had finished reading. She told us to read them and then to swap them. So the other day, my generous book-giving friend mentioned in a casual text to me that our other friend had finished her book. I hadn’t even started mine. So, in a frenzied mix of competiveness and a dutiful sense of consideration, I finished my book, front to back, all on Monday. That book was Sandwich by Catherine Newman, and it was essentially a heart-bearing, brutally honest account of a woman in the exact stage of life me and my friends are in – empty nest, menopause, having the people whom we love on both ends of our lives, slowly and methodically fading out of our lives, in different ways. Being in the “sandwich” stage of life, our adult children are moving out and on, and our elders are slowing, aging and sometimes even passing on. Newman mentioned something about us being at a “fulcrum” stage of our lives. Sandwich was a great, relatable read, mostly in how it touched on the big emotions and the almost feeling of disbelief, which this stage of our lives brings to the table. For me, the book was mainly a reflection of the poignancy of life and the beauty of love and living fully. Here is my favorite excerpt from the book:

“Here’s what foragers know: Most of what grows is neither delicious nor toxic. There’s a whole world between what we call the choice edibles- the hazelnuts and porcini and black raspberries- and say, the destroying angel mushrooms that will shut down all your organ systems after a single nibble. You can eat the grass, the lichen, and the inner bark of most trees, a thousand kinds of leaves. Not that you would, but you could. So much of privileged adulthood seems to take place here, in the space between the soaring highs and the killing disasters. It’s just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subtlety, its decency and dailiness.”

So after finishing the book, I felt a little more fragile than usual. My feelings were closer to the surface and at that moment, I remembered that I had to get six pictures of various stages of my middle son’s life to his future mother-in-law for their upcoming wedding shower. That entailed me and my husband opening up one of two enormous plastic tubs, with dusty lids, in the garage, full of photographs. Photos I haven’t viewed in years. Photos full of my children in baby clothes, and sports uniforms, and prom attire and cuddling with various pets. Photos full of vacations taken, birthdays celebrated, and sweet everyday moments which we were lucky enough to catch on camera, because something deep in us, wanting a sweet token of that simple moment for posterity. The box was full of pictures of people who are still in our lives at all different stages of their lives, and also of people who, for various reasons, are no longer in our lives. There were literally piles and piles of pictures of the life of our family, at every single stage of it. And so yeah, Monday got to me. Monday got me good.

Besides nostaglia, and meloncholy, and wishing that certain things had turned out differently, but also primarily feeling awe and gratefulness for how well most of those “raising the kids” years had gone, I also sensed myself feeling deep compassion for young mother me in all of those pictures. She was much prettier and thinner and obviously more engaged and earnest than I ever gave her credit for being. I was so damn tough on her a lot of the times. I wish I could reach back in time and offer her a glimpse of the grace I feel for her now. I guess the best thing I can do, is offer up that same grace to myself, now, in this meaningful stage of my life, so that when I am elderly and peering through the stacks (or reels) of photos and mementos, I can recognize myself as exactly who I am – a faithful forager, doing my best to enjoy and to savor my “just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subltety, its decency and dailiness.”

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

Memories

I got caught in a rabbit hole the other day when I was busy researching a movie I know that I will never choose to see. The movie is the new horror phenom called Backrooms, produced by a young man in his early twenties. I have not seen a true horror film in over a decade (I don’t mind thrillers, but pure horror films are not good for my psyche, nor for anyone who has to be around me (for weeks and weeks and weeks) after I have viewed one) What intrigued me the most during my exploration of my crazy little, pointless rabbit hole, was a comment made by someone underneath the movie trailer. The comment was this:

“They say when you remember something you aren’t recalling the original event, you’re just recalling the last time you remembered it. So it’s always going to be a little different every time.”

I don’t know if this statement is true or not. My husband detests when I start any conversation with “They say . . .” He is one who quickly asks, “Who’s “they”?” However, I have a hunch that the above statement does have a lot of truth to it. My youngest son was recently on a jury, and he stated that the most muddling part in the jury’s deliberations, was just how much the recollection of the details of the story of the event, had changed over the years.

Wouldn’t your current emotional state of being and your current state of affairs have a large effect on how you perceive not only what is happening now (and what you hope to have happen in the future), but also have a large effect on any memories which you currently bring to the forefront of your mind? When I am remembering past happenings, it always strikes me as unusual as to what actually has stuck out for me in any particular memory. Sometimes seemingly meaningless objects or statements are what sticks in my memory bank, the most. I’ve noticed as I’ve aged that my short term memory (which has never been my strong point to begin with) seems to worsen, yet I often surprise myself with what my long term memory is able to recall.

“They say” (ha!) when you’re focused on your past, you tend to live either in regret or in fantasy of a romanticized past, and when you are focused on the future, you are swarming yourself in anxiety. In today’s fast-paced, technologically focused world, mental health practitioners continually preach the power of staying present. We all know the wisdom of presence, but practicing it regularly, for some reason, is not an easy task for most of us. Maybe we don’t love our peaceful states of being, as much as we pretend that we do. Maybe being “peaceful” bores us. Perhaps we like to embellish our memories or freak out about our futures, because we like the the thrill of intense emotion more than we like to admit. Maybe being the narrator of our stories makes us feel like we have more control of ourselves and our lives than we really do? I don’t really know. I bet “they” know . . . . .

“We don’t remember days, we remember moments.” – Cesare Pavese

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” – Oscar Wilde

“What am I? … The sum of my past experiences, tied up together in a bundle with the string we call memory.” – H. G. Wells

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

Formula for a Great Life

“winning = knowing the most love. I know you just threw up a little bit in your mouth but I have to tell you the truth and that is it. If you know how to love people with abandon and you know how to let people love you back, you will have a great life. That’s not my opinion. That’s not fake news. That’s what the research tells us.” – from Kelly Corrigan’s commencement address

I think this is why people love weddings. Love wins at weddings. People are so open about their joy and their happiness and their love for each other at weddings. People more easily put away their differences, their insecurities, their inhibitions and their self-consciousness while celebrating a marriage. People show their love for each other with great abandon at weddings and everyone feels the celebration and the connection. Kelly Corrigan makes a great point, though. Sometimes it is really easy to love others, but it is harder to let other people love you back. But that’s not the meaning and fullness of love. When you don’t let others love you, you are robbing them of sharing their lovingness. Love is not a one-way street. Love is. Love has created everything. Love is all that there really is, and when you live your life, knowing that formula, not just at weddings or other celebratory events, but in every conscious moment of your daily living, you can’t help but have a great life. There is no better feeling, no better way of being than to throw caution to the wind, and to inhabit and to become love, with wild abandon, every single day of your life. If you don’t think that your life is going so great, try adding some love to the mix. Try narrowing down your everyday life to what makes you feel loved, loving and in the essence of love. The formula works and it is available to all of us. It is the natural core of our very being.

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