Grow, Grow

There is a favorite line that I frequently consider from a movie I once saw:  “You either thought about it, or you didn’t and either way …”  In the scene, two characters have drastically different ideas about what is best for a larger group of people.  It is clear that each of the characters is connected to his own ego, but underneath it all, both are genuinely invested in the best for all concerned.  They just don’t see eye to eye about what that “best” is.

For years, I have used this line on my own self – when I’m struggling with a decision or trying to right my life after having made a leeward decision.  But the truth is, that line and idea is the voice of my inner critic.  The voice that reminds me that no matter what I choose, I will have either “thought about it, or not,” and “either way …”  It is the voice that tells me no matter which course I take, I am bound to fail.  New days bring with them new understandings.  That quote and the idea of it is comforting to me.  What if, in this space, I allow myself to think it through as well as I can and then choose what I WANT, what I DESIRE, what I BELIEVE might be the best for me and only me.  What if in that trusting I also believe that what is best for me is automatically the best for everyone else, too.  What if?  Indeed, I am moving to a place where I can choose to live HERE more frequently.  Where I can ask myself – that woman who is, at her core, kind and loving and generous and thoughtful of others – what I would like for myself.

I am reflecting today about a woman I knew several years ago.  She easily and readily tells a story of how she, in the middle of her life took some actions that were found to be illegal for reasons that she believed to be just.  She spent time in prison for those choices and had been released back to the fold, probably partially in order to tell the story of her journey.  When first I heard the story I did not understand how someone would “feel” compelled to do something that was illegal.  A couple of decades have passed for me since first hearing this story and I can say with all the enthusiasm of a dare-I-say it menopausal-ish woman – I GET IT!!!  I understand why there comes in every woman’s life, if she is really, really lucky a Thelma & Louise moment.  That moment where she is able to channel the spirit of Anais Nin and knows in the depth of her heart that the pain of blooming pales in comparison to the pain of staying invisible to one’s own self.

The real problem is, that to truly blossom sometimes feels like it requires the same action that it would take to completely obliterate the life that one had so carefully constructed to this point.  For me, that courage would look like grabbing my favorite jeans, sweatshirt, dog and camera and running away from home.  I realize that I have become inexplicably attached to electronic creature comforts.  I could not, for example, imagine being so far away from my tribe, that I would be willing to forgo my cell phone and I continue to be inspired by that world wide tribe via Facebook, Pinterest, blogs, e-mails and the world wide web.  It is also not lost on me that after having traveled this planet for over half a century, the truth remains that no matter where I go, there I am.  So, what I am framing as courage could also be complete lunacy.  What I am left with today, as I contemplate these rather large feelings of fight or flight is that I am all of these things and more.  I am a grounded spirit that needs to fly and a shooting star that wants to land.  I believe that bold, bright love is a little hard to witness in its fullness and offering my wholeness to the Divine makes me FEEL awed.  Today I will walk in my own moccasins (mine just happen to be 5-inch heels) and drink water to nourish the blossom.

Have a Little Faith (and Trust)

It occurs to me that I seldom truly listen to my mentors.  I am fortunate to have a vast network of really brilliant, genuinely supportive people in my life.  I call them when I am feeling vulnerable, or confused or just downright lazy.  They loving tend to the crack in my soul, apply generous amounts of spiritual spackle and send me back to the firing line of life.  


One such mentor came to my mind just the other morning, as I watched the beautiful sunrise on a much needed morning walk, both dogs in tow.  I met Nancy more than 20 years ago and she piqued my curiosity immediately.  She looked a little like she would be a kindly grandmother in another 10 years or so, with a sweet voice and a soft spirit.  But she told stories of her life that included biker bars and falling in love during a hazy night with a man that she was sure looked just like Jesus (whatever he might have looked like).  I bonded with her over so many things, but mostly I just loved her.  She rolled into coffee one morning with this fantastic "awareness."  She had been praying every morning for the angels to drive with her and guide her safely through the Los Angeles traffic, but that morning she got into her car and realized she had forgotten to dismiss the angels each evening and, well, on this particular morning, there was no longer any room for her because so many angels had taken up residence in her light blue Toyota Corolla.  We laughed and cried over so many things during the time that we got to share space on this physical plane.  I love her.  


What she told me one day was that it takes an entire year to learn a new skill, get comfortable with a new job or settle into a life change. When she told me that, I was looking for comfort about a new job (in the same industry I had been in for the previous 15 years) and I politely listened, thanked her for her sage observations and mentally thought "Hmmm, this is the same woman who insists on dismissing angels from her car."  


My husband retired from his job of 29 years last July.  Not MY change you might say, but, actually, that change in my home has affected me deeply.  I have experienced tons of feelings and needed to make adjustments to accommodate the changes that I did not anticipate.  I did not anticipate, for example, the fact that I would get home from my own job at 5:00 p.m. only to have him added to the dog chain that follows me around until dinner is served.  I didn't expect that he would all of a sudden start getting interested in how our cupboards are organized, or how the bills get paid.  I reacted to this big change in my home in a very adult way -- I spent a lot of time napping.  Really, A LOT!!!  I had trouble getting motivated for anything.  Once he started taking the dogs on walks, I just mentally and emotionally checked out of my own life.  And while I spend way too much time on the couch, what I stopped doing was spending the time walking the dogs.  I kept waiting for inspiration and motivation to come walking hand in hand to my bedside and invite me to rejoin my own life.  


Fast forward to my walk this week.  It has been one year and after all the whining, crying, complaining, lamenting, case-building (all me), the world has normalized and I found myself, once again, happy to be on the road walking the pups and looking forward to a beautiful day.