Changes

Making changes. I do love making changes. The fascinating thing is how small they can and still be, somehow, significant. I've been paying close attention lately to the things that rattle around in my head. Things, often small things, that I feel I should get done. Often they become familiar and easy to ignore. I've been knocking them off lately and most of them don't take long to accomplish. But oh, what a good feeling to have it done with. 

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be...

I think we can have awesome, life changing days and with a little effort we can ignore their wonder and carry on as if nothing has changed and consequently, it doesn't.

Then there's that other hand. And on the other hand, I'm pretty sure this is one of those awesome, life changing days and it's, outwardly at least, nothing special. I'm not willing to ignore the wonder. Not willing to carry on as if nothing has changed. I've changed and I doubt that anyone but you and me will ever know a thing about it. 

That's the thing about life changing moments, eh. They happen whenever we decide, in this moment, to change our lives. It's not necessarily some external happening of momentous consequence, the lottery win or the big promotion, it can be a thought that pops into our minds when we're not doing much else with our minds at that moment. The frost on the pumpkin made glistening by the days first rays. The random drop of dew that picks up the colours of an early rising butterfly. It a 'just'. Just a thought. Just an earth shattering, mind blowing realization that the person you imagine you could be you can just let be.

My safe place, at last...

I just figured out why I find it so hard to leave home. I'll find any excuse not to actually head down the road. It's not that I don't want to travel around a bit more than I do. It's simply a matter of finally, finally, feeling fairly safe and unpressed right where I am.
     When I was a kid home was a scarey, unsafe place. I married people who were scarey, unsupportive and demanding as hell. (my choices, granted) and right now, aside from the fact that the area is rampant with thieves and vandals, I feel safer here in this little house than I ever have anywhere else.
     So, when a friend suggests a visit, as much as I'd love to go, I tend to find many things that suddenly need to be done around here. There's always many things to be done around here. Good grief. What's my problem.
     Maybe it won't be a problem now that I've figured out the big, fat why. I LOVE those big, fat whys.

A woman now, but not so long ago....

A friend came to visit yesterday. She was about 15 when I first met her. A cute and curious teen drawn into my shop to view the shiny things. She was, as my mother would have said, 'as bright as a button.' And yesterday she sat in my living room with her husband and their beautiful baby girl.

I'm more conscious now of the distinction between having and being a friend. I started this with the words, 'a friend came to visit'. I don't know if that is true. A young woman came to visit an old woman who is her friend. I suspect that I am, to her, more of a project. Someone you feel you must drop in on while you are home for a visit in summer.

As I made tea and chatted I made several statements that, while I can't recall what they were at present, were obviously unacceptable. The first two or three times I saw the look pass between this smart young couple and received a gentle nudge to a more modern way of thinking, to the right way of thinking, about matters quite inconsequential, I blundered on. That's what I do. Eventually, a wave of profound sadness mercifully shut me up.

The sadness I felt: it was the realization that I had been that young woman. Maybe not to that extent, I don't know. How would I know really. But the experience, I think, I hope, has softened me and ground down my opinionated edges. And while I'm grateful for the lessons, I'm resolved to be less accessible to some of my teachers.

She stopped by again today. She left a note. I wasn't home.

A new affirmation for you

Here's an affirmation for you. Bury your little bundle of index cards in the back yard and get out a blank card, put your favorite butterfly sticker on it, get out your strawberry scented, lavender coloured felt pen and write "DO LIFE" across that sucker in your best handwriting.
Now roll it up and stick it up....

Well, you get the idea.

If I was still blogging...

I don't really know what happened. I was enjoying keeping a blog. Then I wasn't. When I started I thought it was a good idea to just admit to it. Be upfront. That's the way I am. Open book. But I think that was a mistake. I think it may be time for me to rethink a lot of things. But for now...

If I was still blogging I would be going on about this exercise I've been going through most of this winter. Chucking what needs to be chucked, painting what needs to be painted, sorting what needs to be sorted. I took a month off. Just re-entered the fray a few days ago and today, horray, I think I've had a breakthrough.    It all seems obvious for the moment. I am proceeding as if I were the person who was cleaning up and sorting out after my death. Is that not brilliant. There are still decisions to be made, but it's allowing me to be more objective. I dealt with lot of stuff today. Probably 3 or 4 days worth if I'd been going at it in my usual way. But pretending I woke up dead and someone else was dealing with my mountains of crap makes it fairly, or at least relatively, easy. 

Religion, eh?

There was a news piece this week about a guy who experienced a couple of life lapses due to an iffy ticker.
He was being interviewed by 'legitimate' journalists because of his short bouts of death. Okay, here's the thing. This was being presented as proof that all of us who have experienced death and seen light and more are full of shit because this dude experienced nothing but blackness.

Okay. He said it. He EXPERIENCED blackness. So, he was saying that he remembered having an experience while he was, according to medical practitioners, dead. Sorry you experienced blackness, fella, but you had, and reiterated repeatedly, an experience.

Fun is a funny thing

Are you having fun? I can remember hearing that question when I was a kid and wondering why anyone would ask me that particular question. For one thing, if I was wouldn't it be obvious. The very question suggests that it's unlikely that the answer is yes. But ask any kid. They can tell you that yes is the expected and acceptable answer.

Noticed a twist today. The kids next door were most definitely having fun. Their mom came out and asked, 'are you having fun.' They said, 'No' in that you're-so-stupid way that seems popular these days. And just like that, they quit whatever game they were playing and joyously squealing over. It was fascinating. (I was eavesdropping, yes. In my defence, we live in a block of 29 foot wide lots. Overhearing what's up with the neighbours isn't something we work to achieve. It's a given.)

The family dynamic then unfolded. Mom came up with suggestions. It was a beautiful summer Saturday, the kids had been having fun but when asked said they were not having fun so she sought a solution. Last I saw they were stuffing blow-up beach toys, towels and coolers in the car and heading for the nearest lake. I'm fascinated. These are eight or nine year olds that are so savvy. They obviously know some stuff. That's power.

Anyway, back to fun. That was the word that caught my attention. As these decades keep slipping by I wonder periodically what it is that I consider 'fun'. At fifty it isn't what it was at thirty. At close to seventy, it isn't what it was at fifty. When the family drama next door was going down, I realized that I was having fun in that moment. I was having fun building a porch on my back deck. It wasn't, as I thought, simply something I had to do in order to have a little room with a lot of windows to sit in with my morning coffee and park my boots in winter. The actual act of building the thing was fun. Is fun.

I'd forgotten to check in with myself lately. That's what I call it. Checking in with myself. Taking a few minutes, or even one minute, every once in a while to consider how I'm doing. "So, how you doin', Val." Sounds slightly crazy, doesn't it? But for a couple of these decades it's been a most worthwhile exercise. Sometimes I find out I'm actually enjoying myself. I'm having fun. 

How did I get here from there?

Sometime in the middle of the last century Alan Watts had this bit in one of his books. He said something like – think of a line of seventeen dots where the one on the left is the least, the right the most, spiritual. Where would you put yourself was his question. The answer, of course…if you put yourself anywhere you are nowhere. (I’m not doing this justice, but you get the idea.)

I thought of this the other day when I was on my back deck doing tai chi. A drunk came up to the back door of the neighbor’s house. I have to tell you, in our neighborhood, this is all going on 20 feet away, tops. So my lady neighbor came out and said, ‘Go away, Al, you’re drunk,’ to which Al said, several times, ‘I want to talk to your husband,’ to which neighbor said, ‘this is my house too and I’m telling you to get out of here.’ I’m parting the wild horse’s mane. From my vantage point I could see that another neighbor, across the street and down a bit, was heading over.

Man neighbor got to the door and he told drunk person to go away and drunk person did, after five minutes more of back and forth. Neighbor from across the street and down a bit is getting closer and I’m waving hands as clouds doing my best impression of someone who is above all this shit. Man neighbor goes back in his, oops, their house and across the street and down a bit finally makes it to the rescue. He’s in a wheelchair and borderline ancient (like me) so his intervention is a delightful mix of chivalry and delusion but hey. By now I’m creeping low like a snake and about to step up to the seven stars. It’s all pretty much in hand and it looks like I’m going to be able to shoot the tiger and get out of here when, bless her heart, neighbor lady looks my way and asks at volume heard three doors in every direction, ‘Valerie, have you met …?’

So, I’ve swept the Lotus but it looks like drawing the bow to shoot the Tiger is out of the question. I rather grudgingly lean on the railing and join the conversation. In the back of my soon-to-be-enlightened mind (my delusion) I’m feeling that this is all something I should not be subjected to. WTF, right?

We consoled, we fumed, we vented, we calmed, we called it  a day and two doors down wheeled away and neighbor lady said she’d have to find someone else to mow the lawn during their vacation. Drunk fella was going to do it but now… I said I’d be glad to, no problem. Neighbor lady happy. Yay. Now I’m really full of myself. I’m the spiritual person who was doing the tai chi and had to put up with this disruptive life stuff then had to talk to the neighbors and didn’t close the tai chi but in the end I got to save the day.

Good news is, it only took maybe five minutes for me to recognize how full of shit I am. How, if it weren’t for my freaking ego I’d recognize in the moment that we were neighbors sharing a moment. The bad news is that now I’m quite pleased with myself for being so evolved as to only take five minutes or so to get a grip… 

Stuck at square one and loving it.  

A trait I admire in men. And a few women.

Women and men are different. To that I say hallelujah. But there's one thing men seem a lot better at than women. Having a disagreement with their same sex buddy. A man might say, 'hey, what the hell. I can't believe you just said (did) that' when they hear (see) their friend, in their eyes, being a jerk. A woman on the other hand is likely as not going to have nothing more to do with their friend for a while (or for freakin' ever) and no discussion. End of. That's weird.

And the tactics are interesting. I was having coffee with a friend yesterday and she was going through this cold shoulder situation with another woman. She'd phoned her friend who greeted her as if she were a telemarketer who had been way too persistent. Whoa. I knew about that one. So, she got off the phone then started to worry that maybe something was really wrong at her friends house. She went running over there and her friend opened the door and blanked her. The stare. No words. She might as well have been dressed head to toe in drab and carrying a handful of pamphlets.

The timing couldn't have been better for this discussion as far as I was concerned. I'd just experienced the same thing a few weeks ago. Still don't know what the phooey. So, M's experience and my experience were somewhat exorcised in one mutual therapy session. That's what woman ARE good at.

Yeah, I know. Not all men do it right. Not all women do it wrong. But ladies, I think we can, overall, do better.

Beware the joy suckers

The first part of my life was spent in one of those families that are touted as being the ideal. The mom, the dad, two or three kids, the house, the garden. Nothing iffy about it in the view of a basically conservative society. The same structured ideal that has produced lawyers, rapists, inventors, thieves, teachers, assassins, mill workers, wife beaters, nurses, sadists, writers and so on. The fact that this ‘ideal’ unit was headed up by a couple of mismatched, unhappy, angry, disappointed, frustrated and probably confused adults is irrelevant.

Whoa, what brought that on, eh? Well, I had a conversation with, or rather I was subjected to the views of, a guy who was bent out of shape because a family moved in next door to him that he would not now or ever accept as a family. Two women, two children. Oh my Lord. What was to become of those kids. What chance did they have in this world. Well, I did manage to get in a few words about them having as good or better chance of being their best selves as anyone else before he got the gist of my views and stomped off. Okay with me. Liked his back better than his front, as it turned out. ‘Another G&T, please. And have one yourself.’

Let's slow down and think about this.

It seems that having the idea is good enough. Slap our hands together in that whew-that's-done manner and get on with the next thing. But what happens to the first thing. Usually nothing.

 We've got a long way to go when it comes to figuring out how to really live in this info age. It's one thing to absorb the info needed to operate the gadgets that give access to more and more info. (Whoa, and you sound like a raving lunatic talking about it.) But it's quite another thing to know when to shut 'er down.

Luckily, people have been 'shuttin' 'er down' since there WERE people, probably. And before. You only have to be around an animal of any sort for a while to know they meditate regularly. And I know, I know, I've gone on and on about this before. But here's the thing.

My friend went to class yesterday to learn to use her phone. I mean, it's the kind of thing that makes you give your head a shake. And what's that got to do with following through. Well, I know she had a project she was in the middle of that was really important. But this came up. Had to learn to use the phone to get more info to stop the processes that she is involved with and so on and so on...

I think it's a capitalist plot. Keeps us cogs chugging away achieving nothing but the satisfaction of having chugged. Often we're chugging on behalf of those who ARE following through because they have chuggers. And the billions we spend on having the latest equipment and connections with which to chug. Well. The mind boggles.

But where to get the courage to simply 'shut 'er down'. If I knew, would I be sitting here having coffee with you and Mac. I mean, really. There's a kiln that needs to be unloaded and orders are backing up and I need to get the roof fixed before it rains again...

Maybe it isn’t timing after all

For sure, timing plays a part but it sure isn’t everything. Loved the story of the guy in the cashier line who leans over to grab a candy bar and a guy barges the queue. He decides not to bother busting the creep. The creep buys a lottery ticket but the guy he barged in front of bought the winning ticket. Ya gotta love it, right.

Now there’s this couple in, was it East Vancouver? Driving along on their way to give their dog a run and they spot someone who looks like Bono hitchhiking and decide to turn around and give the guy a lift. And it is Bono. Can’t you imagine how many people were driving along in the minutes before and saw the guy hitchhiking and didn’t stop and today they’re hearing all the fuss on the radio about the people who did stop and not only got to meet Bono but have the story and the concert tickets and the whole great experience. Love this stuff. 


So, 'nuff said.

Still work to do on gender bias issues.

Sheila Fraser is leaving the post of Canada's Auditor General. Don't think there's much argument that she's been brilliant. I'll be standing in line for the hard cover if and when she writes a book. Really enjoying various interviews she's giving, on this, the eve of this phase of her career.

Here's the thing. She gives a fabulous interview, followed by some guy saying the most inane, sexist, bullshit things about her time as Auditor General and/or what she may or may not be doing next. This is a PERSON who has spent ten years as a highest ranking civil servant in a not inconsequential political era and there are people who deem it appropriate to speak of what she should or should not do in the future as if she were some little princess that's just won a tiara. "Oh, well, she's going to have a lot of opportunities now and is going to have to carefully consider. . ." What the hell does a woman have to achieve before it's NOT trivialized by some sleazy fat uncle with a need assert their supposed superiority by patting competent
 women on the head.

Why is this still alright? 

Thinking it through. In the midst of the flurry. . .

With so many things coming at us from every direction, it's harder to find time to think. Think about it. When's the last time you really took a good chunk of time just to ponder an immediate situation. Everything needs an immediate answer, right? Wrong.

One of the best things most of us can do for ourselves is to learn (relearn) the simple phrase, "Let me think about that." Second only to, "I'll sleep on it and get back to you."

I met one and I lost my cool.

It was bound to happen. I met someone who voted Conservative in the recent federal election and admitted it. Not only that, when I asked what their reasons were (I was calm), they only had one reason. The dissolution of the long gun registry.

It’s not as if I didn’t know there are voters who have no concerns beyond one issue they feel affects them personally. It’s not as if I don’t appreciate that they have a right to vote any way they please.

I’m not sure what ‘the tell’ was. What gave away the possibility that I was perhaps raging under my stoic exterior. Perhaps my face was red, or my  knuckles were white, or my pupils were constricted or dilated or popping out of my head. I don’t know. I do know that it was not my intention to get all confrontational with this six foot two mass of gun lovin’ humanity.

But this five foot one on a good day blip of humanity lost her freakin’ mind.  “So, what are you saying,” I found myself saying.  “You don’t take into consideration a party’s views on trivia such as war, health care, corporate taxes, foreign encroachment on our sovereignty? You just don’t want to have to register your gun?”  And you know what. He said, “Yeah, that’s about it.” 

I'm shocked.

I can't believe how fragile the good times are. For quite a while now I've had brief reminders of how it feels to have low, make that NO, self esteem. And then there are the glimpses of the old anxiety. But generally, thanks to the tool box I left three years of therapy with, it's nothing I can't handle. But suddenly...
         The catalyst is irrelevant. One of those things that most people have experienced, I'm sure. Someone's standing on your foot. You suddenly realize they often tromp on your tootsie and for some reason you choose this time to say, "Ouch, you're standing on my foot." For them, it's a betrayal of your established relationship. The old, I stand on your foot, you take it, routine. For you, it's a last straw, for whatever reason.
        But here's the thing. It's taken a few days to really take root, but I'm experiencing anxiety at pre-therapy levels. And the affect that has on everything is horrible, and fascinating. Every word I say seems all wrong. And I'm obviously projecting that because more than one person has jumped down my throat when I've dared to wish them, 'good morning.' 'What's good about it!' in response is a pretty good indicator that your giving off a vibe. Holy Consternation. I'm going to hole up while this, hopefully, passes. When I dig myself out I'm going to be really appreciative of my next spell of contented semi-bliss. Right now, it's good enough to know that THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

Another round of Rapture Talk. Good Grief.

Probably the most amazing thing is that it doesn't matter how wacked out an idea is, it can get a lot of air time. And often on pages and stations that are usually dedicated to more, let's say sane, subject matter.

When my neighbour told me about the coming rapture, last time round, I told her it had already happened and we were among the dregs that were left behind. That was the end of that.

Not satisfied your lot in life. Rename your position.

Hey, it works for business. If you own a greasy spoon and want one of your underpaid slaves to work really hard and keep your other slaves in line, what do you do? Give them a few cents more per hour and a tag that says “MANAGER”.

One of the most amazing examples of this, for me, is the housewife to homemaker to soccer mom to stay-at-home mom. I’m sure I’ve missed a few steps. The thing is, I find it a prime example of how easy it is to be sold a bill of goods. If we can be convinced that we’re somehow superior to those who have gone before us, or even those who surround us, we will remain in an adversarial mindset. Co-operation is the enemy of big business.

If we start caring, really caring, about each other, we’ll all be elevated. It may be harder for manufacturer’s to sell the latest shiny model washing machine for a while, but sooner or later we’ll need a new washing machine and it will even out. In the meantime, life will get better for ordinary people. It’s alright to be an ordinary person. 

An exercise in self-discipline. Give it up.

I’m ready for another round of one of my personal favorite exercises in self something-or-other. Self control, self discipline, self knowledge. Whatever. It’s all about me. And you?

Every once in a while I take a shot at giving up wanting. I desire a break from desiring anything. Yeah, I know, you get thirsty, you desire a drink of water. You get hungry, you desire something to eat. I mean the other stuff. ALL the other stuff. It seems to build up, doesn’t it? More socks, no big deal. A new shirt, no problem. But sometimes it’s just new for the sake of it. More for the sake of it. Then you feel like you aren’t really alive unless you’re wanting, and you’re really wanting to feel alive.

I enjoy these breaks. Always amazed, once I start conscientiously brushing aside the first hint of a want coming on, how many times in an average day a want thought starts to form in my mind. Also amazed, when I’ve promised myself not to act on these desires for a while, at how often I can’t even remember what the heck it was I thought I wanted an hour or a day ago.