Category Archives: Philosophy of Life

Jingles, Tingles, and Shingles: It’s That Time of Year Again

Posted on December 15, 2013 | 3 comments

IMG_0011

It’s a dark and dreary night. The sky is black with rain clouds and the wind is whipping the branches outside my window into a frenzy of tap, tap, tapping. But that can’t be right! It’s 7:27 in the morning, ten days before Christmas and all should be shiny and bright! If I look out my window to the right, I can see the neighbors-across-the-street’s tree blinking through their front bay window. If I look to the left, I can see a blow-up Santa surrounded by colorful lights being batted around by the wind. So, all is shiny and bright through the storm. Well, shiny, anyway, and slick with rain.

Christmas in Florida is just not the same as Christmas in Maryland or Ohio or New Mexico. There’s no snow (I miss snow!) or sparkling ice or icicles (I miss icicles!). The temperature dipped down into the low seventies this past week (brrr) but besides the pine cone wreath on the front door and the neighbors’ lights reflecting off the rain puddles in the street, nothing feels Christmasy this year.

I’m tempted to buy a can or two of snow and frost the windows just for fun. Or paint my front door bright red. Or dress my dogs in ugly Santa sweaters or hats with jingle bells. (That might work for Sophie but the other two would put up a fight, I’m sure. They’re pretty sensitive when it comes to their dignity.) 

Shopping doesn’t put me in the Christmas mood either. The stores are crowded and the pickings are slim when it comes to buying woolly sweaters and socks, gloves, and mittens, and sheep skin coats and hats. Most stores simply don’t carry them, which is sensible I suppose since the big sellers seem to be Hawaiian shirts with Santa under palm trees on them and red and green beach umbrellas. This is a tourist town, I keep reminding myself, filled with people desperate to get away from the wintery things I miss.  Maybe next year is my mantra now. Maybe next year I will roll in snow and freeze my butt off. Maybe next year I’ll return to one of my old haunts and get snowed in. Maybe next year!

This year, I will listen for the jingle of sleigh bells on the radio; I will wait for the tingles that come with watching It’s a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time; I will be thankful for the correct diagnosis of shingles, take my medications, and think of my red itchy patches of skin as organic holiday decorations; and I will think of Tiny Tim and his message of hope:

God bless us, every one!

 

 

 

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Posted in Fun Stuff, Holiday, Inspiration, Philosophy of Life

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Black Friday (and Shopping on Thanksgiving Day!): What’s the Point?

Posted on November 26, 2013 | 5 comments

No Shopping

I’ve never understood the need for Black Friday in our culture. Then again, I’ve never understood decorating a Christmas tree on Thanksgiving Day. Sure, maybe it’s the best time to recruit willing hands, family hands to get all the holiday decorating done, but this mish-mashing of holidays just seems overwhelming to me.

Then throw Black Friday into the mix. Yikes! I can honestly say that I have never, ever shopped on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Then again, I‘ve never used shopping as a sport, as a way to relax, or as a pumper-upper of my own self-esteem. I shop only when I absolutely have to and then it’s with a list, a plan, and an internal stop-watch that I hear ticking in my head as I cruise the aisles. Get in and get out! That’s the way I shop.

I’m all for saving money. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I am frugal (or more likely cheap!). I don’t mind spending money on my loved ones, but I refuse to overspend on designer label jeans or shoes. (I don’t care if they’re the only jeans my five year old granddaughter will wear, I’m not paying $90–even if they are on sale!) But designating one whole day–and now at least three days if you start counting Wednesday night and Thanksgiving Day–to shop is utterly ridiculous. We have turned our holidays into celebrations of consumer gluttony and our children into maniacal materialists. Frankly, I don’t like it one little bit and I refuse to participate.

I realize that I’m in the minority and that as long as there are people out there who will spend their time and money running and pushing and shoving to shop, retailers will invent new ways to spark the greed. I also realize that I can blithely say this as my living does not depend on retail customers who have an abundance of stores to choose from. I would like to reclaim at least one holiday, however, have one day on which we do nothing besides give thanks for what we already have.

So, I’ll say it today: Thank you to all of my loyal readers and followers for your kind support and comments. Thank you to every internet developer, programmer, and techie who makes it possible for me to write my blog, send email, and connect with the world outside my cave. Thank you to my friends who know that I love and care about them even while I’m working. And thank you to my family who supports me in everything I do and everything I write, no matter how strange it may seem. I am blessed to have a comfy cave, old broken-in comfortable clothes and shoes, plenty of healthy food, good, clean water, and enough love to last me ten lifetimes. I am blessed and I don’t need to go shopping to prove it.

Charley Brown Thanksgiving

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Posted in Fun Stuff, Holiday, Inspiration, Philosophy of Life, Society

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Peace, Love and Fluffiness

Posted on November 12, 2013 | 1 comment

lambs

My mother was anorexic most of her life. I’m not sure when it started, but in the years before she passed away, she’d look in the mirror and instead of seeing a beautiful woman who had aged with grace, she’d see a fat little girl staring back. I thought anorexia was a plague of teen-aged girls but at 74, my mother was their queen. She was also diabetic which gave her an excuse to count her food: she could eat nine green grapes and eleven French fries at McDonald’s, her favorite, six of this and seven of that. My mother was also a counter–of things and people and ideas. She counted as she walked and talked and talked and talked.

My mother had an affinity for people and sheep. One year around Christmas time, she made stuffed lambs for all of her friends, 27 in all, I believe. She sewed and sewed the sweetest little woolly animals until she was sick of making them. She’d had arthritis, both ostheo and rheumatoid, since her late twenties so her hands were crippled, bent, and swollen. I cannot imagine the pain she suffered to make those little lambs, but I know that she was happy making them right up to the end when the pain in her bones became excruciating and she couldn’t feel her fingers. She never made another one but she poured love (and blood from her pricked fingers) into the ones she made.

My mother’s home was always full of warm and cozy things, sweet things, tiny little things, dolls and clowns and sheep. She had a magnet on her refrigerator, a reminder of her imagined plumpness. It was in the shape of a very woolly sheep and said, “Ewe’s not fat, ewe’s fluffy.”  And she was. My mother was fluffy, like a warm blanket or footy-pajamas right out of the dryer on a cold winter’s night.

So today, while my mother’s on my mind and I’m taking a writing break, I wish you peace, love and fluffiness.

I’m into week two of National Novel Writing Month: 50,000 words in 30 days. I’m about half way there and I’m being diligent. Good luck to all of my fellow NaNoWriMos! If you’re reading this, thanks for taking the time! Now, get back to work!

I’ll be back to normal soon, I hope. In about two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

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A Change of Heart

Posted on November 4, 2013 | 3 comments

Heart

 “They invade our space, and we fall back. They assimilate countless worlds, and we fall back. Not again! Not this time. The line must be drawn here! This far, no farther! And I will make them pay for what they have done!” 

The quote is from Captain Jean-Luc Picard in Start Trek: First Contact. And me–in my head.

I’ve been stressing lately over the bullying of my friend Margaret, preparing for a battle that seemed winnable but not without casualties. On an internal level, I’ve been meditating, visualizing, and spreading the light for a peaceful resolution. On a rational level, I’ve been promoting a stance of “hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” On a gut level, I let my past override all of my peaceful thoughts and reverted to living in fear. I’d been there, done that and I carry the scars of the bad guys’ wins. I guess that’s why it’s easy for me to shift into defensive mode, but I know that I can’t let my fear consume me. In the midst of my stress, change occurred.

I’ve found that subtle shifts can be surprising. Have you ever noticed that? You find yourself embroiled in some seemingly untenable situation, gird your loins for battle, lock and load your cache of snide and witty comebacks, and walk into the fray loaded for bear only to find Hello Kitty waiting to greet you.

It’s surprising. It’s shocking. It’s disconcerting to say the least after all of the tedious preparations and hard work. You’ve rehearsed exactly what you’re going to say (if he says this, I’ll say that; if she does this, I’ll do that); you are sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are about to meet Godzilla in the flesh and the battle will be to the death–or at the least  to total annihilation on an emotional level. “I will go down fighting!” becomes your mantra echoed by “I can do this!” You are psyched and ready to go to war for your rights and your dignity. Shields up! Set phasers to stun!

And then all of that flies right out the window when you’re greeted not by your mortal enemy but by a kitten with a smile and the shocking words, “Good morning! How can I help you ?”

Crap! Now what? I hadn’t prepared myself for this! Niceness is what I’d secretly hoped for, prayed for, wished for while doing my deep-breathing exercises to relieve the stress in my heart and gut. This is what I’ve wanted all along: civil communication. Margaret and I crossed the battle lines on Friday and were treated with respect and kindness. We came away with a renewed sense of peace and calm.

Apparently, there’s been a change of heart for those people who were determined to make Margaret’s life a living hell, for the people who have bullied and taunted and spread rumors about her for over a year. I don’t know how it happened or when or where or why. But like me, I suspect there are several other people involved in this debacle who are experiencing the same sense of relief I’m feeling. It’s very hard to live a happy life, to maintain thoughts of peace and joy while carrying a big stick. It’s exhausting, actually. Somewhere, someone has decided to lay down the stick, walk away from the battle, and try to live in peace.

The fight to end the bullying may be over for now and as hard as it’s been to deal with,  I’ve been reminded of a few valuable lessons:

  • Standing up for others is always the right thing to do.
  • Peaceful resolutions can happen–even when you least expect them.
  • Finding peace within me sometimes requires conquering old fears by allowing myself to feel the anger and move through and past it.
  • The desire to be “all in” regardless of my fears is sometimes enough to create a shift in me, in my heart and in my own beliefs.

I’m not sure how this works in others or if I’ll ever know what caused the shift, but there has obviously been a change of heart. At least for now. At least for today. My own heart has opened in gratitude for a battle unfought. I am thankful for this day.

I pray it lasts.

 

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Jumping or Falling: It’s All a Matter of Perspective

Posted on October 26, 2013 | 5 comments

Deep end of the ocean

We are one.

I’ve been feeling that for quite a while now, thinking it, meditating on it, talking about it with friends and family, writing about it, saying it out loud and then watching for the words to manifest. My friend Sue and I have been whispering back and forth across the miles, understanding that the deep change we have felt coming over the past fifteen years of our friendship has finally arrived. We are one.

October 24 was Global Oneness Day. I sat transfixed in front of my computer as I listened to panel after panel discuss Oneness. Joy took root in me as I listened to Marianne Williamson, Neale Donald Walsch, Panache Desai, Barbara Marx Hubbard, Lynne McTaggart, Ken Wilber, Don Jose Ruiz, Xiuhtezcatl Martinez and a long list of other visionaries come together to vocalize the words that have been hovering around me. We are one.

I’ve been searching for a way in to happiness. I’ve contemplated what I have that I can offer up to help fill the void I’ve been feeling. How do I become a part of the Oneness movement? How can I be in the Oneness? By 10:30 on Wednesday night, I knew the answer. I AM the Oneness. There is no way NOT to be.

It is not our identifiers of ourselves, our politics, religion, status, size, shape, color, ethnicity, or gender that make us one. It is our humanity that makes us one; it is the expansive soul of humanity recognizing itself as one spirit having a billion human experiences and coming together in Oneness.

The joy that I’m feeling is tinged with the thrill of anticipation and just a hint of anxiety. I’m a cave dweller, after all. Jumping in has always been hard for me. I’ve stood on the edge long enough. I’m ready to take the leap. Or maybe my certainty that I’m all in comes from the feel of a hand at my back, lovingly nudging me toward the abyss. One way or the other, I’m going in. Jumping or falling, it’s all a matter of perspective.

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Know Choose Be. It’s All About the Love.

Posted on October 24, 2013 | 1 comment

We Are One

 

A friend sent me a video yesterday with the words Know Love. Choose Love. Be Love.  I was having a crappy day, feeling inordinately (for me) emotional and angry, caught up in drama that has taken me from my peaceful place of acceptance to angry self-righteousness.

I’m struggling with my own fears of complacency. How can I stand back and watch someone else, a friend, be brutalized and bullied? How can I watch as carelessness is practiced? I can’t. What rises in me is anger. But what I need to tap into is love. I’m struggling. 

There is a strong connection between our thoughts and our hearts. While I’ve wallowed in my stress these past few days, I’ve felt the erratic beating of my heart. My sleep patterns are off; I don’t feel hungry; I’ve become unproductive. Letting myself think about striking out against injustice has left me discombobulated rather than energized; fearful rather than loving; angry rather than compassionate. By letting my thoughts take shape in anger, my body has followed their lead, taking me straight to a place of chaos. I have internalized those dark feelings and they are kicking up a storm of confusion within me. I know that I’ve reached an untenable place when meditation becomes a chore rather than a respite.

I watched the video this morning and it validated my thoughts about my own feelings of unrest and disconnection, my own fluttering heart and the thoughts that cause the flutter. The music and images opened a door for me, a tiny crack that I might slip through to find myself again.

I hope you’ll find the time to watch and that somewhere within you will come to a point of resonance and peace. Come join me. We can struggle through to peace and happiness together.

We are one.

 

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Doing the Right Thing for the Right Reason

Posted on October 22, 2013 | 3 comments
From Pinterest with no credit attached.

From Pinterest with no credit attached.

I’ve been struggling lately with the idea that “Something has to be done!” in several sectors of my life.  

I truly believe that We Are One,  that we are linked through an unconscious something that allows us to tap into each other’s thoughts and needs, to feel each other’s human-ness and/or spirituality. I’ve felt that something with my children often. I feel it with friends every great once in a while when I get a sudden urge to call or email them–at four in the morning.

Some people might call it compassion, our human ability to feel for others. Or empathy when we are able to experience someone’s pain and make it our own. Some people might call it a waste of time, a fruitless action, or a pointless endeavor. Some people might call it love.

Whatever you want to call it, it is time we all start taking responsibility for each other. I’m not talking about taking the blame or the credit. I’m not talking about building a commune to house each and every soul (although it wouldn’t be a bad idea to recognize that we already live in one). I’m talking about taking action to stop the bullying and the bullshit. I’m talking about calling people on their careless actions. I’m saying enough is enough.

The last three years of my life have been spent writing fiction. I’ve been quite prolific and successful, garnering my own sense of satisfaction. My next book and newspaper article and magazine story will be non-fiction. It is a story of neglect and needless pain, a story of ridiculous action and more ridiculous non-action, of lives damaged and destroyed, of loss and injustice and juris-imprudence. The names will not be changed to protect the innocent. The story will not be filtered or white-washed or cast in a rosy glow. “It is what it is” is an apt description.

I’d like to say that I’m rocking the boat, making waves, or ruffling feathers but I’m not, really. My new intention is to sink the boat; to drop the pebble into the ocean that causes the tsunami; to pull out the feathers one by one and then make chicken soup with the bones.

For those of you who ask me from time to time what I’m writing about, from now on, this will be what I’m writing about. There’s more than one story to tell, more than one life involved, and more than one person willing to come forward to talk.

I’ll still be writing novels and short stories and allowing my muse to take me where it will. But sometimes you just have to do the right thing for the right reason. With love and honor and respect, of course. Let’s just call it Right Action.

BTW: If anyone knows who the artist is for the above photo, please let me know. I’d love to give credit where credit is due.

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Silence

Posted on October 15, 2013 | 2 comments

Grey sky with trees 01

Silence

Unnerving silence.

The house is quiet this morning. No whining dogs. No banging trashcans. No voices drifting over the back fence. It’s eerily quiet really, the kind of silence that would propel a sci-fi-minded writer into the realms of zombie apocalypse.

Tree branches are shifting in a soft breeze, but I can’t hear the wind. Even the birds are silent, huddled in their nests, resting, waiting. Normally, I can hear trucks on the highway, the squeal of brakes; the bell ringing first period from the school up the road. This morning, there is nothing but silence under a grey sky that stretches as far as the eye can see. No blue. No clouds. Just grey.

The world feels muffled, cut off from the normal creak of its axis. As I write, there are no cars whizzing by my window, no walkers, no joggers, no one.

Silence.

Unnerving silence.

It’s time to begin again, to write a new story, to create a new life.  It’s time to fill the silence with song.

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Rose-Colored Glasses

Posted on October 3, 2013 | 2 comments

 Pink morning

A pink haze hangs over my day today. I awoke in darkness, too early really to get up and begin my day but too achy to stay in bed. I puttered around the house in the dark, making coffee, reminding the dogs not to bark as they scooted out the back door for a quick run along the fence to smell for visitors who’d come in the night. While I was in Scotland in July, an opossum found its way under the fence and was corned by a frightened and shaky Bella, a mid-sized black lab who was unprepared for a snarling, equally frightened wild animal. Both escaped unscathed, but Bella sniffs tentatively each morning, excited I think but still a little afraid of what she might find in her own backyard.

It’s been a week since my return from California. The red-eye flew me into Atlanta, arriving just at the break of dawn. After three and half hours on a small, cramped plane, I was tired and bleary-eyed, ready to get home, ready to sleep, already missing my family in California. There was a pink cast over Hartsfield Airport as I recall, a morning much like this one, early light in pinks and oranges hovering and then dissipating in a clear blue sky.

I feel bewitched by the pink haze that caught my attention earlier, as I shooed the dogs back into the house; I am besotted with the brilliant colors that, lasting only mere moments, seemed to permeate my house and my soul. I feel as though I’m wearing rose-colored glasses as I contemplate a new project, a new story and speculate on the potential and possibility of change.

There is joy in viewing the world through a prism of color, through rose-colored glasses that both soften and illuminate the moment. That moment is gone now.

The sun is shining, the sky is a deep blue and the world is as it should be on a warm October day in Florida. Contemplation continues.

Pink morning 02

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Sometimes it IS a Matter of Life and Death

Posted on September 10, 2013 | 6 comments

I’d forgotten what it feels like to contemplate death, to hold a life in my hands and be forced to make a decision between life and death. It’s a terrible feeling.

I lay awake Sunday night contemplating what I would do if faced with that decision on Monday, if the vet said Sophie’s little problem was life threatening or life ending, if I had to give the thumbs up or thumbs down.

I feel so stuck sometimes with the responsibility of three dogs hanging over my head, preventing me from traveling at will, holding me back from being carefree and spontaneous. It makes me crazy when I’m in the throes of a story that moves through my mind faster than I can get the words on paper only to have to stop fifteen times to let the dogs out and in and out and in and in and out, to check on the mad barking and the door rattling and the incessant cat/squirrel/butterfly chase in the backyard. It makes me crazy! (I know, I said that already. But it makes me crazy!)

I think to myself, Never again! No more dogs! And I fantasize what my life will be like when my days are free to roam at my leisure without having to rush home; when I can get up in the morning when I want to rather than at the insistence of a dog who’s spotted a gecko on the screen door; when I can walk barefoot through my kitchen late at night without stepping in puddles of slobber or whirling eddies of dog hair that pile up between twice-daily sweeps. But to get to that day, I will have to go through three deaths and the weight of that is more than I can bear.

When faced with the prospect of actually losing one of my tormentors, I find that I am a puddle of goo just waiting to happen.

dog and butterfly

Dog and Butterfly (click link for 3LeggedDogInk)

There are so many aspects to consider when making life’s tough decisions. Sometimes it feels like we can’t go on living with whatever little inconvenience is stuck in our craw, when a splinter turns into a stake through the heart, all melodrama and hyperbole. But sometimes it is a matter of life and death and every thought you’ve ever thunk falls away. Every life is precious and beautiful and worth living to its fullest. Even if it is only to chase one more monarch through the honeysuckle or pounce on a lizard in the moonlight.

I discovered yesterday that when push comes to shove, there is only life. One day, the alternative will present itself and the time will be right. For now, for Sophie–and for me–life is the only way to go.

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