Category Archives: Society

In Search of Patience

Posted on July 8, 2013 | Leave a comment

“Patience and fortitude conquer all things.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I think about writing and life and growing older, my mind turns to patience: the idea of patience, of what it means to be patient, to the virtues of patience. Really? Is patience a virtue? Or is that what we tell ourselves while we (actively) wait for something great to happen, for our lives to bloom, for success to finally find us in our most withering moments?

 “He that can have Patience can have what he will.” Benjamin Franklin

Patience 01

As a small child, I had a cat named Patience. I named her myself. I don’t know that I even understood the concept of patience at three or four years old but I understood Patience as she sat by the fire-pit in the backyard waiting for rats to skulk in from the field; waited for me to join her each evening, finding my place beside her as I sat down to wait for my father to come home from work. We sat there together by the ring of ashes as the sun went down, my face and hands, more often than not, dirty with the play of the day, and her face and paws torn and scarred from battles new and old. Patience was my one, true childhood friend. From Patience, I learned patience.

 “Patience is the art of hoping.” Luc de Clapiers, marquis de Vauvenargues (died at 31, famous for his aphorisms and his friendship with Voltaire)

and “Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” (George Iles)

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy

I can see that. I have my own on-again-off-again relationship with time as it slithers away fast as a snake or drags on while I wait and hope for good things to come. Patience can only be a by-product of waiting, of finally coming to realize that pacing and fretting and stressing does absolutely no good at all, that finding a balance of calm and acceptance is the only sane answer to the twists and turns of life.

My new favorite quote from Pinterest.

My new favorite quote from Pinterest.

We can only be patient with what happens for us– and I mean for us rather than to us. I believe the Universe acts for us and it is our response to getting what we ask for that puts us in victim mode, thinking that life happens to us. (That’s just my humble opinion.)

“Patience is passion tamed.” Lyman Abbott

. . . with a whip and a chair.

“Patience, n. A minor form of dispair (sic), disquised as a virtue.” Ambrose Bierce

I think this is my favorite. It sometimes feels like it all comes down to this, despair disguised as patience. We have our moments, all of us, when having tamed our passion we slip into despair of ever having what it is we want most in life. But rather than wallow in it, we let the frustration turn to something good and deep, belief in ourselves, in our dreams, in the value of our lives, and find from the wells of hope and fortitude within us the one thing that will help us overcome: patience.

“Patience is the companion of wisdom.” St. Augustine.

And wisdom is, I hope, what we get as the result of a lifetime of sucking it up and  making lemonade.

Just for Fun!

Tree on tracks

So, you’re chugging along on an old weathered but familiar track when suddenly nature happens. Beauty or impediment? Now what?

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Life’s Too Short

Posted on July 7, 2013 | 1 comment

Yellow Rose-001

 

We all have to make choices in our lives about who we want to be, what we want our life to be like. Sometimes, those choices feel like they’re out of our control. We put our faith in others to be a reflection of who we are and what we want to be. We lose sight of ourselves, of our mission and life goals, and follow the herd to the closest, easiest watering hole.

Life’s too short to spend even one moment questioning our choices. We have to move forward into being who we are and living the life we want to live.

Be you. Live your life. And have a glorious Sunday!

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How Lucky Am I?

Posted on July 5, 2013 | 2 comments

sunrise sunflower

It doesn’t feel like a Friday. I woke up this morning thinking, “Ugh! Monday!” which is a pretty crappy thing to think any day of the week that I find I’ve opened my eyes on yet another glorious day.  As my friend Mary is fond of saying, “Look at the alternative!” which is not waking up at all. I’m not so old that I’ve begun counting the days or the hours but I have lived long enough to know that every day is precious. And every day we can learn something new or be reminded of something we already know.

 Courageous Follower

While teaching leadership classes back in the 90s, I discovered a book that is still very relevant today: The Courageous Follower: Standing Up To and For Our Leaders.  I became enthralled with the idea of followership and contacted the author, Ira Chaleff. He is a kind and gracious man, dedicated to his study and his work, and he was happy to talk with me.

His book became a staple text in my classrooms and followed me into Leadership Academy as well as other classes I was teaching at the time, English (at several levels) and Introduction to Psychology.  Along with Echkart Tolle’s A New Earth and Osbon’s A Joseph Campbell Companion, The Courageous Follower has a permanent place on my desk. Through the years, it has inspired me to challenge myself and my leaders, transform my work and my life, and most importantly, have the courage to leave untenable situations. I’ve given away dozens of copies while keeping for myself one dog-eared, torn-covered, hard-back copy–signed by Ira.

A few weeks ago, I found Ira through LinkedIn. As I suspected, he’s been hard at work but not spectacularly active on social media. We exchanged pleasantries through email which gave me a chance to think about the different directions my life has taken since leaving my teaching position, and pondering how I ended up here still clinging to great books and memories.

I heard from Ira again yesterday. In my reply to his email, I had a chance to mention that I’ve been daydreaming about getting back into the real world of business and education, “but I spend my days writing novels and wondering what I want to do with the rest of my life.” Here is his response:  “I need to laugh – the rest of the world would like to get away from their jobs to write their novel and you’re writing novels and wondering what to do with the rest of your life!”

I laughed, too. And I’m still laughing. How lucky am I? I’ve always dreamed of spending my time writing, doing what comes naturally to me. For me, writing is like breathing–most days. Some days there’s a hitch, I feel like I have a writer’s version of hay fever–twitching thoughts and fumble fingers– and I can’t quite get it together. But most of the time, I breathe and write freely and easily and without the stress of having to leave my work and my joy to go to a desk job.

I am thankful for this opportunity to do what I love to do but sometimes it takes someone I respect and admire to gently hammer home, with a smile and a laugh, just how fortunate I am. I may never be #1 on the NYT Best Seller’s List, but I’m thrilled to sell books at all. I write books that I’d like to read and I tell stories that are different and hopefully inspiring. And I get to do it every day and every night from the comfort of my own comfy cave. Seriously, how lucky am I?

 Just for fun!

Follow the Leader

This photo from Pinterest feels appropriate today.

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Alone in a Crowded Room

Posted on July 3, 2013 | Leave a comment

alone in a crowded room

Most days, it takes a lot to blast me out of my cave. Family events will do it because they’re few and far between; running out of coffee will do it (that’s a given!); a new movie will do it if the movie falls within a finite range of interest (sci-fi, zombies, super heroes, and Tom Hanks); and benefits (or favors) for friends. That’s about it.

A Gathering of Angels: Sunday Funday for Annette!

This past weekend, after the Big Reveal, after the Ocean Pond Clubhouse adventure, I attended a cancer-fund-raising-event for a friend. Annette is an awesome woman, a fighter, a kick-ass warrior who normally plows right through life with a vengeance. Several months ago, she was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. Calling in the angels, her friends and family began working together to raise money to help pay for Annette’s medical treatment. As a waitress, Annette works without the handy perk of medical insurance, much like everyone else I know in this part of the country. To add insult to injury, her treatment involves the need for a shot, one shot, that costs $6,000 per injection. I can’t even begin to imagine what miracle drug must be in that syringe that would warrant a $6,000 price tag, but the doctors say that this is her chance for recovery. Annette’s tumors are shrinking. She looks great despite everything she’s going through, and she has the support of friends and family and a community that has accepted her with open arms.

I stood on the periphery during the event, wandering from the bar inside to the patio out back trying to engage in conversation with people I see at my brother’s gigs, friends of Annette’s, friends of friends, acquaintances, even strangers who have gathered for a common cause. I’m not good at small talk. I’m not really comfortable in crowds. I can’t say that I’d rather I’d stayed home because I wanted to be there for Annette, for my brother who’d helped organize the event and was playing under a leaky tent in pouring rain through thunder and lightning, for his girlfriend Barb (Annette’s sister and a longtime family friend). I wanted to be there in the mix, adding my positive energy to the flowing glow of love that swirled around me. But I still felt like an interloper standing on the fringe of the party not knowing how to engage.

Why is that? I often wonder what it is that makes me so uncomfortable. Have I spent so much time alone that I’ve lost my social skills? I don’t think so. I’ve never had the desire to hang out with the crowd, to be one of the guys, to join the team. Even as a child, I was a loner. I had friends but I was happier one-on-one. My brothers are the same way. We are quiet, introspective people, alone but never lonely. I think it runs in the family.

Family–when you least expect it!

After forty years, I reconnected with a cousin at the event. He’d made contact with my brother a couple of years ago and come up from south Florida to support Annette. He immediately reminded me of my brothers with his calm, happy demeanor. He is gentle and kind and quiet. I watched him move through the crowd like me, a part of it but separate. I admit, I don’t really know my cousin well after our short time together but I felt a kindred spirit gazing back at me, a person happy to observe, to support, and to stand on the sidelines, happy to be alone in a crowded room. Maybe he’s even a cave dweller like me. I hope to get to know him better and find out.

 Just for Fun!

A black labrador dog is decorated for a Fourth of July Picnic

There is no way in the world I would be able to get my look-alike black lab Bella to stand still long enough to attach a holiday bow but I thought this photo (from Pinterest) was appropriate for how I’ll be spending my 4th of July. I hope you have a safe and happy holiday! See you soon!

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World War Z: We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Cave!

Posted on July 2, 2013 | Leave a comment

world-war-z-movie-wallpaper-6018

If you read yesterday’s post, A Cave After My Own Heart, you know that one of the highlights of my visit with family this past weekend was the opportunity to explore the 109 year old Ocean Pond Clubhouse. It’s a beautiful place situated seemingly out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by an alligator and snake infested swamp. Very picturesque. Now, imagine the creaking, creeping sounds generated by an old wood-frame house buffeted by wind and rain, all of the attendant shadows from dimmed lamps, animal skulls, and an intermittent moon layered over the after-images of a horror movie flickering on the insides of your eyelids. And not just any movie, a zombie movie! World War Z!

A sweet afternoon party–punctuated by fear and popcorn

I think I’ve mentioned before that my youngest daughter is a zombie freak. She is both terrified and fascinated by the idea of a zombie apocalypse. So, for her birthday, after the big reveal that we are actually going to Scotland rather than Tahiti in July, after the conferring on her the title of Lady of Glencoe by a tall, good-looking Scotsman in full kilted regalia, with sword and sash no less, we went to the movies to watch zombies take over the world. Once again–YIKES!

For once, I am very happy that the movie is, so far as I’ve read, nothing like the book. I’m only about a third of way through and I’ve yet to encounter the thread that ties to the movie beyond the fact that these are, indeed, very fast moving undead. Or walking dead. Or the reanimated. Call them what you will, they are extremely creepy, resourceful, and although not Walking-Dead-gory, scary as hell.

If you haven’t seen World War Z, I’ll try not to spoil it for you. Besides, if you’ve seen the movie trailer, you’ve pretty much seen the movie as there are very few remaining surprises. (Don’t you hate that?) I knew when to cover my eyes, when to look away from the screen, but for this movie, I wish I’d thought about ear plugs. During what could have been the goriest of scenes, the camera tended to focus away from the action, but the sound effects were explicitly clear, emphasizing the gnashing of teeth and the snap of the bite.

BOOM!

The first inkling of trouble comes with a boom off in the distance, sounding much like the M-80s the kids down the street from me have been setting off in anticipation of the upcoming holiday. The noise sets my dogs to barking and sends chills up my spine. I know, it was only a movie, but the aural sensation, even without the visual, is spectacularly jarring.

Back at Ocean Pond, in the big old house with a million windows and creaking wood floors, each sound exacerbated a sense of doom. Forget ghostly specters; forget crazed ax murders. That scraping noise, that clawing sound? That backfire out on the highway? That could only be one thing: they’re here! Zombies! Which makes my next present for my daughter a no-brainer (pun intended).

world-war-z-book-summary-19

Are you a movie fan? If so, take the poll and let me know what you think.

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The Joy (and Power) of Being Right Here

Posted on June 26, 2013 | 2 comments

Over the past few weeks, Cave Dweller has become a fun and important part of my daily life. I appreciate those of you who stop by to visit my blog on a regular or a transitory basis, taking a moment out of your day to read and/or comment. Your comments are important to me and I’m equally happy to receive emails or messages on my Facebook page.

Yesterday, I was asked how the idea for Cave Dweller came about. I’d like to say that I was struck by a moment of divine inspiration, which feels kind of true, but actually, for quite some time, I’ve been looking for a place to share my thoughts on what has become a major theme in my writing: living alone in a social world. Cave Dweller has become that outlet for me and for what I want to say.

On June 1, 2013, my blog post at colleensayre.com put into perspective some of my thoughts about life and writing so I suppose this was a defining moment for me in moving away from writing about writing to writing about life. This feels like the kick-starter for Cave Dweller and I suppose I have my son to thank for that (among a myriad of other fine things).

What follows is an approximation of my June 1, post. (I guess I could have just inserted a link to the page–the better to get you to browse my website–but I like it here in my little cave and didn’t want to send you adventuring unnecessarily.) The layout is different from the original but the content remains the same:

Sandy Feet

My son wants to buy a boat. I got a text message from him this morning at 6:54, which means it’s 3:54 where he is. “Nevermind why I’m up . . . the bottom of Hello is cut off!” he said from 2,000 miles away. I read this as I sat drinking my nth cup of coffee and wondering what else I could do to promote my book (which was released last night) besides send a tweet every five seconds and plaster Facebook with ads and promos and the usual pleas of “please buy my book.”

Happy Dance

[BTW: I found an app called Buncee that makes posters and invitations and all kinds of cool stuff on the fly and I wanted to give it a try. I’d seen a cool .gif of a cat doing a happy dance on Bing and was intrigued by the “make your own” tagline. So, I whipped up a little picture with a book announcement (alas, I couldn’t figure out how to make the cat or to make this one dance) and posted it at about 6:52. Come “like” me on Facebook to see my Buncee.]

At 6:55, I repaired the truncated Hello (a very easy fix), thanked my son for the alert, and then read that he’d “spent the night reading about sailing certifications. Just need a boat big enough to carry the ‘Dragon’ onboard.”

My response? OMG!

Dragon

The “Dragon” is his motorcycle, his escape hatch, his get-out-of-jail-free card. It is his parachute, his springboard, and his path to sanity. But now he wants to buy a boat. I’m wondering where on earth he wants to ride that requires three vehicles to get there: the car to haul the boat, the boat to haul the bike, the bike to haul his butt all over creation so that he can feel free and untethered.

Don’t get me wrong! I love adventuring. I love my son. I love that my son loves to go adventuring. But I’m also wondering when my son will realize that he has already arrived. He’s there. He’s here! The adventure is happening all around him. Maybe he already has realized it and my worry is just a mother’s frenzy over her son’s desire for yet another dangerous toy. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been reading about and thinking about the art of staying put and contemplating how to find my own joy.

Martha Beck (www.MarthaBeck.com) has written an interesting piece for O Magazine this month: “The Grass Ain’t Greener.” (Sorry, I couldn’t find a direct link to the article but it can be found in the “May We Help You?” section.) Beck’s focus is FOMO, Fear Of Missing Out. What it really boils down to is this: from this side of the fence (or the computer screen), it seems to me that everyone has a happier, more exciting, more extravagant life than I do. And I want what everybody else has!

The article got me thinking. Being a fear-based phenomenon, FOMO creates all kinds of problems not the least of which is the anxiety created from rushing around from here to there and back again looking for a place, your place, the place where you will feel at home—even temporarily. It seems that almost immediately after arriving at our destination, the wheels begin to turn yet again and we plot and plan how to get to an even better place with barely a glance at the spot in which we’re standing.

I had a mentor back in the ‘90s who used to insist that the only way to find true peace and happiness is to “bloom where you’re planted.” Mildred Ramsey found inspiration and courage to live an action-packed life, traveling around the country giving seminars and selling her book, The Super Supervisor, wherever she happened to be standing. Mildred could carve out her own little piece of sacred ground, till the soil, and plant her seeds in a dusty parking lot while selling books from the trunk of her car. She’s one of the few people I’ve met in my life who could be on the move, rushing in ten different directions, and still be totally centered and at home wherever she stood. (And without a hair out of place, I might add!)

Unlike Mildred, I think most of us are constantly searching for the next thing that will bring us joy or happiness or security, searching for that little piece of ourselves that’s blowing on a breeze in the far off reaches of somewhere else. There is joy and power in being right here and right now. There is something adventurous about experiencing this moment, breathing this air, in this place of all places.

Mildred Ramsey

I think the magic of life, the cure for FOMO, is finding ourselves in the now, in this blink-of-an-eye moment of life, cherishing it, and then taking that joy into the next moment—no matter where we find ourselves.

As a writer, I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to find my joy in the writing process rather than in the number of books I sell. I am happy at my desk with the world revolving right outside my window. I’m creating my own worlds, my own friends, my own experiences and finding pleasure in the sensation of living with one foot on the floor and the other resting on the haunch of the black lab curled up at my feet. Mind you, it took me 42 moves to get here and there were moments when I believed that the gods were playing some weird game of chess with my life, but I’m here. In this moment. Breathing this air. And I am thankful for it.

Life is what it is. And it’s ours. Here and now. Bring on the joy!

And Topher. . . Sweetie . . . don’t buy the boat! 🙂

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George Lucas Got Married and I Feel Dizzy

Posted on June 25, 2013 | Leave a comment

 

 

George lucas 01

Is George Lucas a Cave Dweller? I’ve always thought so. He seems like someone who values his privacy. Then again, if he has everything he needs at his ranch, why leave? But maybe that’s just the impression I’ve gotten from what I’ve read about him. Or maybe it’s just that I like the idea that he’s a quiet soul living a sequestered life away from the weirdness of the real world. Nevertheless, I read this morning that George Lucas got married. Good for him!

Now the dizzy part: I’ve taken to cruising through Goggle Trends lately, checking out the big top ten of what’s happening in the world. It sure beats wading through website after website. Then again . . . George Lucas was the top trending story, so I clicked to find out why.

Tread lightly through the mine field!

I use Chrome as my web browser with all popups turned off, yet I had to wade through a myriad of advertisements just to get to the story (and heaven forbid you accidentally click on an image while trying to X-out of a pop-up!). Upon arriving at the landing page, I was lambasted by more ads surrounding and clouding the seven sentences in six paragraphs that briefly identified Lucas, his bride, and a short list of attendees at his wedding. Had the story not been in large font, the better to take up space, I would never have been able to find it among the whirly-gigs vying for attention.

Shiny, whirly, shiny!

At the top of the screen, just below the banner that hosted every social icon known to man–as well as small ads for sponsors–was a camera limping along pushing letters out of the way; a video on the right showed running commercial segments for unidentifiable products; below video number one ran video number two advertising a credit card. Sandwiched between the paragraphs and the videos were other advertisements, sponsor notices, and links to other news and trending topics and related stories and more news about other people only marginally related to anything on the page.  I’m assuming there was a little profiling going on here along the lines of, “if you like this story about this guy, then you might like these stories about these people, too!” Yikes!

And people wonder why we suffer from attention deficit disorder. Even that discussion is enough to cause symptoms: AD/HD [A.D.D. OR ADHD]–the whole strings of letters–is now the acceptable term. How can anyone not be distracted from original intent if we are constantly bombarded by–Oh, look! Shiny!

A couple of years ago, I considered walking away from TV for good. I found myself turning more toward the internet for news and weather updates, where everything I needed was instantly accessible. I’m finding that’s not necessarily true anymore. If I have to click through ad after ad, wade through tons of video clips and news bytes just to get to the information I need, it defeats the purpose. My purpose anyway. I don’t want to be smacked in the face by advertisements. I realize that many people are making a lot of money on blog/news ads, but this is ridiculous. I don’t watch CNN because I hate that scroller that brings me all the news I don’t want all the time. The internet is now inundated with the same stuff presented in the same way.

Where’s a Cave Dweller to go for simple, straight-forward news? I’m still looking. And clicking, and . . . Oh, look! Shiny!

Just for Fun!

Dandelion

I love this image and it feels appropriate today.

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Anchored in Time

Posted on June 21, 2013 | 2 comments

stonehenge 2

Today is June 21, 2013, the longest day of the year. I know the date; I know what year it is, but I’ve noticed lately that I have to stop and think about it as I save a file. It has long been my custom to identify my files by name/subject and date. This helps with draft updates and revisions and it also helps keep me anchored in time and space.

When the heck did I write that? I often ask myself when I run across a stray journal entry or errant dream fragment or short story. Oh, I remember now. September 18, 2003. That was about the time this or that happened. Lately, though, I’ve been hesitating before hitting 3, even catching myself typing a 0 or a 1 for no apparent reason. It makes me think where my head is, where my mind has cast itself back to, and what my higher self is trying to tell me.

Make it so.

Time is a funny thing, stretching and twisting and expanding at will, then warping back with a snap. My kids and I have a time warp theory that stems from common experience. We’ve all experienced moments when time seemed to stretch out before us, allowing us to cover miles of road or innumerable pages in the seeming blink of an eye. My first experience came in high school when my mother drove 45 miles in 15 minutes. No kidding. My mother who never exceeded the 55 mph speed limit. We left my uncle’s house at 4:00 in the afternoon and arrived at our exit–45 miles away–at 4:15. Now, unless that old Oldsmobile had hidden warp speed capability, the only explanation we could come up with was a time warp.

That strange sensation of time slowing down has a boomerang effect though, too. As it’s happened time and again throughout the years, I’ve come to realize that at some point, time catches up with itself–and usually while I’m brushing my teeth. When I was working at a real job, brushing my teeth was always the last thing I’d do before walking out the door. Dressed and ready to go, I can’t tell you how many times I looked at the clock as I headed to the bathroom and it would read 7:22 (or so–plenty of time), brushed my teeth (quickly), and then glanced once again at the time: 7:44. Holy crap! I hate to be late and I’d rush around the house settling dogs and locking doors. My son used to call me on his way to work and he could always tell. “Time warp?” he’d ask. “Yep. Playing catch up.” It happens.

Happy Summer Solstice!

So, on this longest of days I get the distinct feeling that time is, once again, playing catch up, allowing us to drink in the sunshine for just a little longer, holding the darkness at bay for just a few minutes more. Time can afford this stretching out of the moments at play. Winter will come soon enough and it all balances out in the end.

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A Gathering of Angels

Posted on June 18, 2013 | 2 comments

Angle with black wings

Angels have been hovering lately. I know, I know, it sounds silly. But it’s true.

I have a friend, a Cave Dweller like me, whose sister has been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. She’s going through chemo with no insurance, no backup plan, a million questions, and a shaky resolve, surrounded by friends and family. People are coming out of the woodwork to help in any way they can which strengthens my faith in human kindness and my belief in angels.

A call went out a few weeks ago, a call for a gathering of angels:

There comes a time in our lives when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly. Cancer sneaks in on silent feet, takes up residence, and clips our wings. We fight, we flutter, we do our best to just keep flying–and then we have to ask for help, from our friends, from our family, from our loved ones near and far. We’re asking for a gathering of angels . . .

birds in cage and flying

And they came.

It seems everywhere I turn, lately, I find a pair of wings: dragonflies, finches, cardinals, hawks. I often see birds in the empty lot next door, keeping a safe distance from three barking dogs, but they’ve taken up residence in the jasmine vines that cover the pergola on my back patio. As I sat reading last night, I heard a soft tapping on the window behind me. A huge pale white moth, attracted by the light, fluttered its wings at me and then flew away.

Red with broom

If you want to fly, let go.

My Facebook page is overflowing with images of angels, wings, and various suggestions of flight. Even a figure in a long red cloak carrying a broom evokes angelic peace rather than wicked fear. People are gathering in support and love for a sister, a friend, a woman in need.

I believe we get what we asked for and we asked for a gathering of angels.

They’re here.

Links to photos: Source of the Earth, Everything Under the Moon, My Own Path

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