Tag: love

Sentimental Friday

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lE428ovk0Uk

Good morning! Happy Friday!! I’ve already been to the vet and back for Ralphie’s annual physical. That’s never fun for neither he nor me. A 99-pound (yes, he has to go on a diet again), nervous, energetic, drooling labrador retriever does not make for the best car partner. If you ever want to make sure that your adult kids are still alive, just text them something about the family pets. You’ll hear from them all immediately. When I texted Ralphie’s exam report, our three sons made fun of his weight gain, and our daughter texted a sentimental picture of Ralphie and my husband in a creek, looking like the cover of a Cabela’s catalog. Speaking of sentimental, you may have already watched my favorite for today. The commercial above is a commercial by Publix, which is our local grocery store chain. I don’t think that I have ever watched any Publix commercials without at least choking up. (the Thanksgiving ones are killers) And I think that the commercial above has to be one of Publix’s best. This commercial is my favorite thing, this Favorite Things Friday on the blog. We don’t have any step-parents in our family or in our extended family, but as a mother of four, I have witnessed many kind and wonderful step-parents of my kids’ friends and I am in awe of them. It is often a thankless position. Watching a good step-parent in action is a real witness of unconditional love, without expecting anything in return. If you are a loving step-parent, bless you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You make the world a better place.

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

More Little Nuggets of Truth

This is another sweet nugget of truth which I found in one of my inspirational folders, while cleaning out cupboards:

The Symptoms of Inner Peace by Dr. Jeff Rockwell

1. A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than from fears based on past experiences.

2. An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.

3. A loss of interest in judging self.

4. A loss of interest in judging others.

5. A loss of interest in conflict.

6. A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.

7. A loss of ability to worry (this is a very serious symptom).

8. Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation.

9. Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature.

10. Frequent attacks of smiling through the eyes of the heart.

11. Increasing susceptibility to love extended by others as well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it.

12. An increasing tendency to let things happen rather than to make them happen.

And also in these same folders, I found some notes that I learned from one of my mentors when I was in my early 30s (which was over twenty years ago, sigh.) She said that she had seven rules/reminders/wisdoms to live by, in order to live a good life. Here are her rules that she laid out for herself:

  1. I am responsible to state and meet my own needs. Other adults are responsible to state and meet their own needs.
  2. Do not be a hypocrite. We are all always changing and growing. Don’t say “I’ll never”, instead say, “As it stands today, with my current scope of wisdom and knowledge, I don’t see myself doing ‘whatever’. ”
  3. The only person you can ever change is yourself.
  4. Don’t judge others on their preferences and habits. No one is 100 percent evil and those who hurt others were often hurt themselves. Still discern who belongs in either of these two categories: “Allowed to be close to me” and “Not allowed to be close to me.” Boundaries are for you, in order to protect yourself.
  5. What people think of me is none of my business.
  6. I am only in competition with myself. I am the only “me” that will ever be, thus I am my only project.
  7. I am human. I will make mistakes. Make apologies and amends where possible. Change my actions and move forward in a healthier direction. Forgive myself.

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning! Welcome to poetry day on the blog. On Sundays, I often implore you to write yourself a poem. This poet says it best:

I follow a man named Joseph Fasano on Twitter. He’s an English teacher in NYC, but he is also a published prose writer, poet and a musician. Joseph Fasano is also an incredible curator of other people’s poetry. I highly recommend for you to follow Joseph Fasano on Twitter. You will learn so much. Recently he assigned his students this: “Your assignment tonight is to read a writer someone told you not to“. Readers, let’s follow that assignment. Go to a banned books list and amaze yourself by just how many of the books on that list you have already read, and loved (and perhaps, were even assigned to read in school). Let’s not let sterilized AI and limited, fearful ideology take over the beauty, creativity, honesty and humanity, that comes from the written word of so many different perspectives and experiences, told in the voices of true, vulnerable humans, seeking some form of wisdom and understanding. Empathy is uniquely human when we decide to utilize it.

Below is one of Joseph’s most excellent poems. (anyone who has ever had to leave a terrible situation, can relate to this one):

And he posted this poem the other day. This poem so reminds me of my grandparents’ generation. They just had a way with living life in acceptance that I think we may have somewhat lost throughout the years:

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

Smiley Friday

Happy Friday, friends!!! Happy Favorite Things Friday!! Today my daughter officially heads back to her university for fall semester of her sophomore year. She and her father managed to fit all of her things into her car. (I stayed hidden under the covers. I wasn’t sure what types of emotions might be erupting from this situation, and I decided that my excitable energy would not be good for the mix. I kept our crazy spaniel, Trip, with me, too, for this same reason.) Speaking of emotions, ours are a big ol’ mixed bag here. Back to school (even when it comes to college) has a tendency to bring up nostalgia, excitement, wonder, fears, hopes, relief, and exhaustion with adjusting to a new schedule. I know the “mixed bag” well. Our family has done the “back to school” experience for over two decades. As I send prayers and blessings to my own daughter, I do the same for your own back-to-schoolers. Praying for safety, wisdom, knowledge, fun, confidence and inner growth this school year, for all of our babies and our grandbabies (and for their teachers, and for all of us who love these precious kids more than life itself)!!!!

Today my favorites are going to highlight two of my most loyal, wonderful readers whom I have never met in person. (It turns out that they both live all of the way across the country from me, in beautiful California.) I feel so grateful that they both found their way to my blog somehow (I like to believe that it was a mystical sort of fate). Both of these women are excellent writers, and they have supported my blog for years with their daily presence, their frequent comments, and their financial generosity. Kelly and Gail, I love you for what you have shared on the blog, in so, so many ways. I am grateful for you both. I am humbled by you both. I am inspired by you both. I appreciate you both. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. (Please know that I feel this way about all of my dear readers, but these two women deserve this special recognition from me, in a way that I can give back to them. This I know.) Please go to these links for Kelly’s and Gail’s websites to enjoy their own amazing gifts for the written word:

Home

https://gaillfontana.com/

I know that some of my other wonderful readers are also great writers and poets. Please add your own links to your websites in my Comments Section. I am so greatly honored that other writers like to read my work. It means the world.

****Also speaking of support, I added a new tip jar to my Home page (see the Leave Tip black button on the Home page). It is safely and securely run by Stripe, and it accepts Google pay. I have decided not to add distracting advertisements to my website, and nor do I make “fake reviews” for financial support from companies, so I rely on keeping this website alive from the generosity of my dear husband’s support and from other donations. (you have to pay for a web host, and for WordPress in order to maintain many blog websites) I write daily, and I offer my blog up to anyone in the world who wants to read it. (I don’t do Patreon or Medium or Substack, which require paid subscriptions.) Therefore, if you feel an urge to help with the costs of keeping Adulting – Second Half going, I am ever so grateful!

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

Soul Sunday

Good morning, friends. I’ve experienced a lovely weekend. I hope that you have, too. Today, I decided to stop slacking, and I finally wrote my own poem for today. (Write a poem today. If I can do it, you can do it. Trust me. I consider poems to be messages in a bottle sent from the deepest recesses of your heart, up to your head to be translated, with understanding and resonation.) Baudelaire once wrote, “Always be a poet, even in prose.” Here is my poem for today:

Light breezes, finding the perfect seashell,

puppies, babies, foreign lands, spicy food,

the joys and angsts of raising children,

flowers, books, singing robustly when driving my car,

laughing, playing, loving with intimate vigor,

sunny, clear days, and calm, fire-lit starry nights,

As I ponder of what trinket of beauty to write a poem about,

I ask myself,

If I were to be thrown into a small, dark, dank prison with iron chains,

Or I found myself tied to a lonely hospital bed for the rest of my days,

would have I let myself experience enough life and unbridled emotion,

from my vital, gifted, assumed days of freedom and health,

to fill those lonely, lost days with poems of lush and vivid memories?

Am I living the poetry in my heart that is begging to flourish right now?

There is nothing sadder than a heart without poems.

Living life is what beats a heart.

Poetry flows from the beat.

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

This Is A Good One

I remember many years ago my uncle relaying a story of sitting next to “The Boss” (Bruce Springsteen) on an airplane heading to New Jersey, and my uncle said that Bruce was an incredibly nice, gracious, down-to-earth man. Since the theme of the blog this week seems to be trending towards “good, kind-hearted people”, I thought that I would share this video. Good people are everywhere. Make it a point to look for them. They usually don’t make a show of it, but they are everywhere. If you make a point of looking out for something, you will be surprised about how often you find it. Sometimes you will feel inundated. Try it. Pick anything – a red rose, a butterfly, a dolphin, an orange car, etc. and marvel at how many times in a small amount of time you see this particular thing or an image or representation of this item, as you are going about doing your daily life. ( “The Baader–Meinhof phenomenon is an example of such biased attention. What is it called when you learn something and then see it everywhere? This phenomenon is called the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon or the frequency illusion.” – Scribbr) Why not add kind, wonderful, thoughtful people to your list of things that you want to see on a daily basis? Wouldn’t that be a great uplift to your every day?

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

Flourishing

This week I had a wonderful experience of sending flowers to someone who loves flowers, and who is also so deserving of receiving beautiful flowers. I have learned through trial and error, the best chance of getting really wonderful, “just right” flowers to a person, is to look up a florist with excellent ratings in that person’s zip code. You then make a real live phone call (they need to hear the emotion in your voice) to that particular florist, and you relay your personal story – “the why” you want to gift a meaningful bouquet of flowers to a person, the particulars of why this person and this occasion is so vitally important to you, and then you give the floral designer their own creative license to translate that story, which you relayed to them in words, into their own artform – flowers and foliage and beauty and form. Florists flourish when you give them your trust of artistic freedom.

In my experience, florists/floral designers love their work. They take great pride in their work. Their artform is all about translating some of the most beautiful, delicate pieces of nature into a message of cheer, hope, beauty, celebration and love. What a wonderful calling!

When I received the text from the florist that the flowers had been delivered, and then soon afterwards got the extremely excited texts and pictures from the receiver of the arrangement, I texted the florist to say how pleased and happy we all are, with how the bouquet turned out.

Soon after, the florist sent me a sweet text back, gushing with pleasure that we were so happy. He ended the text with “thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu.” (his creative license with gratefulness is also adorably “extra” in the unabashed, wonderful way, seemingly only true artists can be)

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

Seven Rocks

picture credit: CNN

Later this evening I will be travelling up to Virginia to reconnect with my seven best friends from college. We used to be really good about having a yearly reunion, but the last time we have had this reunion (or GW as we call it, “Girls Weekend”) was January 2020, when the coronavirus was just this weird virus happening over in China, that none of us knew anything about.

So more than three years later, all eight of us will finally reconvene, in person, again. And I am so excited. I have known these wonderful women for 34 years, since I was 18 years old. Imagine it – eight, 18-year-old ladies, just coming into early adulthood, connecting in college, and sharing funny, crazy college-age adventures together. (and yes, there were other friends along the way, but none of them seem to have “the sticking power” over the three decades that the eight of us magnets seem to have held on to, despite all odds) It is not lost on me, that as I am early entering into this next stage of my adulthood, I will be with seven of the women who helped me to enter into my first stage of adulthood, and who were there to support me, and to moor and anchor me, and to remind me who I am at my core, as I waded into the murky waters of becoming the adult woman, wife, mother, friend, and the overall person who I am today.

As anyone who has lived a life knows, none of us ladies knew what was in store for us, when we launched each other into the first halves of our adulthood. We had inklings. We had dreams. And all eight of us have experienced amazing, wonderful experiences, and also devastating events in our individual lives. This is just the way of life. But what isn’t always the way, is that not everyone has seven constants on their shores. Not everyone has seven giant rocks and pillars of support who have witnessed all of your milestones throughout your entire adulthood. Not everyone has seven people who know you intimately, and have decided to stick with you, and to focus on your lovely qualities and to mostly ignore your flaws. Such kind mirrors, long-time friends can be! Something in our friendship experience feels divine. Something about reconvening with these ladies right at this early empty nest period of my life, feels divine. Why wouldn’t anyone cling to the people and the experiences in your life which feel divine? There are seven strong pillars waiting for me to unite with them. We have survived storms and waves and calm and sunshine and even some battering among ourselves, and no doubt, we will continue to do so. Our shared friendship has withstood the test of time, and I believe that this combined friendship will help to see me (and us) through all of the next set of adventures in this next stage of adulting, and all the way through to the end of our journeys.

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

Monday – Funday

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.

A Little Magic

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.