Tag Archives: cave dweller

Acceptance

Difference 02

I’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately (even more so than is usual for cave dweller me). I’ve been listening to the roar and the snarl of the world around me as people and lifestyles and beliefs are weighed and judged. It saddens me that still today–STILL–there is an an entrenched idea that one individual, or group or minority/majority has the right to judge another. I am confounded by the thought that anyone feels they have the right to wave in someone else’s face a flag, a book, or a belief and call it an absolute moral compass.

As we step into a new age of understanding of who we are as spiritual beings and who we could be as human beings, perhaps it is time to get over ourselves, to give up our grip on tired, beat up dogma and accept each other for the glorious souls we are.

Like it or not, WE ARE ONE–even in our perfect and spectacular difference.

Peace, Love and Fluffiness

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.

A Change of Heart

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.

 

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

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.

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

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.

 

Doing the Right Thing for the Right Reason

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.

Silence

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.