5/19/14—Realizing You're Special

When my niece was young—I'm going to say around the age of 9-11—she asked me to take her around the neighborhood in my convertible.

She had a very set course in mind. There was a boy, you see. And she wanted him to see her riding in a convertible. She was probably going to marry him.

I'll be the first to tell you I suck as an aunt. I'm just not interested in kids and I can't fake it. I was born without whatever gene that takes. They're cute in short doses while they're being cute, but then I lose interest. It's not a flattering admission, but it's true.

Anyway, on this occasion, I really enjoyed doing laps around the neighborhood so that this boy could see my adorable little pistol of a niece looking cute and carefree in a convertible. And I'll never forget asking her during this ride what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her answer, to this day, is the one of the funniest things I've ever heard. She said that when she grew up, she wanted to be popular.

For years,  I've thought about her answer. There's a certain honesty to it. A certain shallowness to it. And a definite sense of humor to it. But more recently, I've begun to see the utter wisdom in it. When I grew up, I wanted to be a veterinarian. An actress. A writer. Famous. But beneath the careers and labels, what I really wanted to be was special. I think if most of us looked inside, we'd find something similar. Popular. Special. Famous. To somehow stand out. To matter. To be something worth remembering.

Intellectually I already know I'm special. You know you're special, too. Each of us has a combination of gifts that others admire in us. Maybe you're extra pretty. Or extra smart. Or a talented artist. Or gifted mathematically. And there are the capabilities that make us notable. Maybe you can roll your tongue. Move one eye separately from the other. Speak multiple languages. Talk to the dead. Or like one reader here, make a menacing fist out of your toes. :D When you add up all the gifts, skills, limitations and oddities—physical, mental, emotional or otherwise—there is nobody else with the combination of traits you have. And that's pretty much the definition of special. It also makes you uniquely qualified for your life and your journey here.

In one way or another, we all think we're special *enough*....special enough to fall in love, get married, be a parent, get promoted at work, hone our skills. I had to think I was a "special enough" writer to do it as a freelancer, for example. And that's not just saying that I had to think I had talent worthy of a high hourly rate, but I also had to believe I was special enough in the right ways to deal with the other 5000 challenges of being self employed. So we all have to believe we're special enough in whatever ways to be where we are in life, wherever that is. But there's a whole greater level of specialness we have to believe in to attain our full potential.

I mean, you and I have no idea of what Oprah's private life is like...what goes in on her private mind. But there's an element of "who the hell am I to have fame, an extraordinary career, billions of dollars, the world's best best friend and a long-term relationship with a handsome man who, despite his own successes, is not crushed by the idea that he'll never be Oprah?"...there's an element of that that can cripple you. Unless you have the esteem to say, "who the hell am I to NOT have those things?" Not to go off on an Oprah love rant, but she never seems to let fear of failure or inadequacy hold her back. She knows she's "special enough". Despite her upbringing. Despite racism. Despite her weight issues.  And that's just it.

We have a thing in society where we don't want anyone thinking they're too special. People who think they're special are egocentric and full of themselves. We consider it a bad thing. In fact, pride is one of the seven deadly sins, right? So all around us we get messages not to think too much of ourselves. Don't go thinking you're too special....especially if you're short. Or unattractive. Or not book smart. Conversely, we're often reminded to remember our limitations. And that serves to keep us down. So we're socialized, in many ways, to view our strengths through the lens of our weakest link. Oprah has even talked about the times her weight *almost* held her back, but she pushed on despite it. I'm just projecting here, but I believe that's because something inside her knew she was special.

Like I said before, we're all special. We should all have that thing inside us that makes us apply our strengths and abilities with such determination and vigor that we utilize the full breadth of our possibility in this world. But most of us don't. Most of us are either happy enough feeling "special enough" that we don't dare aspire to more. Or we suspect we have so much more to give, but who are we to think that when we can't even balance a budget, lose weight, etc.? Maybe what Oprah realized early on is that her shortcomings have absolutely no bearing on whether or not she can interview people...or if they do have a bearing, they can be used to interview with compassion, for example.

I've been thinking a lot about this, lately. Somehow, I got to be 50-freaking-1 years of age and I'm having some health struggles right now. It has hit me that, regardless of how I feel inside, I'm not in my 30s anymore. And most of my life, something inside me knew, at the very least, I *could* be special...that there was more specialness inside me than I put out into the world. And while, in my case, that might translate to reaching more people with my words, it doesn't have to be about that. It could really just be about being a kinder, more thoughtful person, creating more art...whatever it is that keeps you from being the person you always suspected you could be.

And it's not something anyone else can do for you. I get so much encouragement to write books and take my show on the road. But I continue to hesitate. You have to believe within yourself that you're worthy of whatever level it is that you hope to attain. I have to believe I'm special enough to make a difference in peoples' lives on a large scale. I know there are many out there who need to believe they're special enough to have a man love them despite figure flaws or whatever. And the thing is, we all ARE. We just have to get all the voices inside our head out of the way, whether they stem from our insecurities or from society or from someone important who didn't believe in us long ago.

Anyway, long story short, I've been feeling more special lately. Maybe that's the gift of 51. I do think if I died tomorrow, I could do so without regrets. I've done a lot with my life. But I do feel the desire to do more. I wouldn't regret not doing more, because I know I did all I was capable of. But I'm getting more and more motivated and excited about stepping into my "extra special" suit in the coming years. There's a saying, "it's never too late to become who you might have been." The quote is attributed to George Eliot, a woman who knew she was special enough to write fiction that mattered, even if she had to take a male pen name to do it.

So that's today's story. I'm special. You're special. Where are we falling short of fully expressing that? And what is it that needs to shift within us in order for us to do something about it? The answer will be different for each of us. All of us reach a point where we just have to put our insecurities and the voices of society and others down and say "I've lived for you long enough. Now it's time to live for what's beautiful and unique about me." Either that or we die without ever known what we're capable of being. I think 2014 and my 51st year is my year to finally get it. I think I'm ready lay down the fears and insecurities I've been dragging around for so long. Or at least transmute some of them into something helpful. They're just too exhausting. They no longer make sense in the context of my bigger plan. It's time.

I'd be remiss not to mention that my niece is now in college. She hasn't married that boy from the neighborhood. But she is popular. She's special that way. She's also smart and funny and thoughtful and a bunch of things she might not even realize yet. My hope for her and all of you is that she's not afraid to claim all that's special about her and that she navigates through life through the lens of her gifts.

5/16/14—Loving The Haters

My greatest inspiration and motivation in my journey of personal and spiritual growth has come from the people who dislike me the most. 

It's true. The crushing insults and lies of a bunch of online bullies a dozen years ago caused me to shore up insecurities and dive deeper into my spiritual journey. An accusation from a family member about how I never do anything to help others (which was untrue anyway, because I have been volunteering my time in one way or another for half my life) inspired me to start this blog, which if I can believe y'all's input, has helped a lot of people. And the thoughtless treatment I received at the hands of people I thought were my friends at various times in my life have nonetheless spurred greater growth in my life. 

I could go on and on with such examples, including more recent ones that have really defined who I am, what I stand for and the message I want to carry in my life. But the point is I get all riled up inside when people paint me in an unfavorable light. First it hurts a lot and makes me cry. Then my inner warrior comes out to smash their hateful notions of me all to hell. :D

Adversity can either crush us or make us stronger. It has certainly done both in my life, depending on the area of my life in which it rears its ugly head. But mostly, even my most heinous detractors have been a force for good in my life. Sometimes it's an instantaneous transformation. Sometimes these people and situations hold enough truth that they make you work through your stuff. And sometimes, like I said, these incidents can cripple you for a long time.

I've noticed that the older I get and the more experience I have with these situations, the faster the growth and reward. And then the more I grow, the less of a negative impact they have on me and the better person I become as a result. It has gotten to the point for me that the time between the stress these situations cause and the good I'm able to create from it is negligible. Which isn't to say I don't still get stuck on stuff. I do. It's just not very common. I'm even beginning to giggle with anticipation and delight when struck with one of these situations. Well, maybe not quite. But the day is coming. I can feel it. :)

I remember maybe a decade or more ago struggling with the notion of our worst enemies being our best angels. I understood it intellectually, but couldn't quite let go of the victimization and drama that felt so comfortable around situations like that. But as drama slips off me more and more like eggs from teflon these days, I really do see the haters as an amazing gift. In fact, it's completely changing the way I deal with conflict and fear and all the other stuff such situations dredge up. Everything—positive and negative—is energy. You can choose to channel that energy as a force for growth in your life or as a source of stagnation. It's up to you.

One more thing I'm noticing lately is that I have tended to weigh more heavily the opinions of haters than the opinions of those who support me in my life. Dr. Phil has a saying that "it takes 1000 'atta boys' to make up for one 'you're worthless and no good.'" In other words, we replay our criticisms over and over in our heads while we let the praise fall to the wayside. It's human nature. But what I've noticed is that the more I've seen my detractors as angels and the more I channel that energy into positive stuff in my life, the more the complimentary things people say are also inspiring positive changes in me. 

It's like a Two For One Sale on personal growth! And it all began with opening my mind to the notion that the haters might actually be doing me a solid. The fact that they're not trying to benefit you doesn't matter. It's all in how you use the energy they send your way. 

They say living well is the best revenge. That's a bit too materialistic sounding for me. Happiness, peace and fulfillment are my best "revenge." As long as we channel the words and actions of detractors into pain and stagnation in our lives, they remain as ever-present spectres, poking holes in our spirit. But once we channel that energy into internal good, the haters not only disappear, but our spirit learns to soar. It doesn't work if you're just doing it to spite them. But if you focus on your own learning and growth and see the situations as the gifts they are, your genuine happiness and peace will cause their negativity to echo back to them, where it belongs. 

5/13/14—Writing Through The Fear

What I'm about to say might surprise some who know me. But pretty much every time I approach a shiny, new project, I have anxiety that I'm going to fail.

Let's just say for the sake of argument that I've written over 1000 ads in my life. The number is probably greater than that. I remember once writing 24 in a day...haha. But let's say 1000. And 100 websites. And a couple hundred brochures, over a thousand promotional emails, one book...I've written a lot. Heck, I'm about to celebrate my 1000th blog post here. 

And with each of those projects, I had a wave or a ripple or a drop of anxiety fall down upon me. What if I can't do it? What if I don't come up with a solution this time? Even though I always come up with a solution, the anxiety never quite goes away. Sure, it's nowhere near what it was earlier in my career, but it's always there. 

It took me a long time to "own" the good stuff that rolled off my fingers and on to paper. There was a long time that I felt like a fake. I don't know any other way to describe it, but I think it comes from the focused place that all creators go into. When you come out, you remember little of the process, but there's a completed work sitting in front of you. Who put that there?!

Anyway, I finally got up the nerve to confess all this to one of my creative directors 20 years ago and you know what she said to me? "OMG, I feel that way, too! Always afraid I'm going to fail. And I always feel like a fake when I've succeeded." This was very freeing for me because, while I no longer feel like a fake very often anymore, I still get the fearful tinges of failure upon the beginning of a new project. And I know I'm not alone.

Whether we're talking about writing or painting or pottery or figuring your taxes, the secret, if you haven't guessed it, is to move forward anyway. There's always a risk of failure that comes with any reward. Our own insecurities are the biggest obstacles we have to overcome. Over the years I've met many frustrated creators who choose to do something less creative than their ultimate dream because they just don't push past that fear. The secret is just to move forward despite it. The second I "put pen to paper", the fear is gone. Every time. 

The feeling of being lost and incapable that happens at the beginning of a new undertaking  is not a scary place. It's the necessary void from which all creative ideas emerge. Sure, you'll be planting lots of seeds that will never bloom, but while you're poking around in the earth, you'll find the ones you want to water and nurture. My experience is that you rarely come up with an amazing idea without going to that place and planting some seeds. You have to push past the fear. 

And, because all art is subjective, you have to get over the fact that you're not going to create something everyone will love. It just won't happen. Plenty of people don't like my style of writing in any of its iterations—as an author or as a copywriter or as a blogger. And that's ok. I'm happy to write for the people that do. In fact, I'm happy to write just for myself, because every cell in my body says I must. So even if I didn't do it for a living, I'd do it. But first and, for me, pretty much always, I have to write through the fear first. What about you?

Adapted from a post originally written on 11/17/11.

5/12/14—Remembering Mom on Mother's Day

I love this picture because, even though there were five before me and one
is literally crawling on top of her as she tries to feed me, she
still looks delighted to have just given birth to me. 

Most of what I know of love either came from my mother or from being a mother. 

Not to bash the men in my life, but for the most part, they haven't been demonstrative when it comes to love. And when it comes to romantic relationships, I still have to credit the patience, cooperation, allowing, thoughtfulness, etc. to my mother, as well as to observing the relationship between both of my parents. 

My mom got cancer when I was 16. It's one of those "do you remember where you were when you heard?..." moments. I was in rehearsal for a high school musical and my dad came to get me. It didn't sink in right that moment, but my job of being a kid and a daughter changed in that moment. For the next few years, my job would be to not do anything that would make my mom's life harder. After that, it would be to care for her when she couldn't care for herself. 

Prior to that, I guess we had a typical relationship. When I was little, I was adored and indulged—much to the consternation of my five older siblings, I'm sure. Then when I grew an independent mind, she and I locked horns. We were just way too much alike, especially when it came to being stubborn. I know there were times I cried thinking she didn't love me. But I also know there was never a moment she didn't love me. 

Every time I see a picture of all of us together, I just
shake my head. I don't know how this woman
did it. We're only 8 years apart. How she managed
to raise us all and make us feel loved is beyond me. 

My mom was a big reader. She always had her nose in a book. I remember more than once after she was diagnosed crawling into her bed between her and her book and she would stroke my hair with one hand while she was reading, holding her book in the other. It was a safe place to be. 

She would also call me in sick to school when the local department store had a big sale. We would go and shop and have a ladies lunch. Without those shopping days, I would probably have had perfect attendance. I don't regret for a moment leaving high school with a less than perfect attendance record. :D

My mom didn't have a perfect life. When she was high school aged, she lived in England. It was WWII and her town was constantly under attack. It was her job in the family to decide who ate and who didn't each day. In a way, we both had to grow up early, but I think her situation was much worse than mine. She married a soldier to get out of her life and he ended up being an abuser. She escaped him and made a career for herself in the USA, a foreign country for her. Many years later, she met my dad. 

It wasn't her idea to have six kids, but she had them anyway. And she put aside her ambitions to raise us. From the stories I hear, she was harder on the boys than on the girls. And she could be a total drama queen. But I think she did a good job. When I went to kindergarten, she wrestled my dad for the right to work and eventually won. She ended up having a respectable "man's" career on Capitol Hill, one that paved the way for many females in the wake of the women's movement. 

All parents screw up their kids in one way or
another, but I was fortunate to have parents
that loved each other even more as time went
on. The passion seen in this wedding picture
was a pretty common sight growing up. 

Over the years that the cancer consumed her, our roles switched a little. I would sit by her bedside in case she needed me during my waking hours. She always told me I could leave and do other stuff. She probably wanted some alone time...haha. But I wouldn't leave, because I didn't want to risk that she'd get scared when left alone to her thoughts. Or maybe I didn't want to get scared. I don't know. 

During that time, she gave me the greatest gift of all. After years of needing to blend into the woodwork while the family struggled with her disease, she made me one of the most important people in her life. She literally put her life in my hands and trusted me above others. In her final lucid days, I was the only one she allowed to care for her. After all those years of locking horns, we both surrendered to our unconditional love for each other...we finally "saw" each other in ways we couldn't before. The greatest moments of grace I've witnessed have come from people who are faced with death. 

My dogs are the benefactors of the legacy she left through me. What I didn't learn from her about love, I learned from them. There has come a time early on in each of my dogs' lives that I've "given up the fight" of trying to mold or train them into everything I wanted, and started accepting them and loving them as they are. The generosity and completeness with which a dog loves is probably the best teacher there can be for a willing student. I have learned to just let go of all the crap and just love from my dogs...to love them as they love me. 

A beautiful and gracious woman. 

Everyone else loves with conditions in life. But a mother loves without condition. My mother loved without condition. Many are fortunate enough to have a father like that, too. But I think mothers are uniquely qualified to surrender fully to loving their child. Maybe it has to do with the whole birth thing. Or our female hormones. Or the cycles we go through. Or maybe I'm being unfair, so I'll say in my experience, women have a special talent to love their children unconditionally. It simply cannot be underestimated how powerful a force a mother's love is. Even crappy mothers feel an indestructible connection, though they may not know what to do with it. 

This year, for the first time I can remember, I received a Mother's Day card and a plant from my dogs. I knew a friend of mine had sent it. She has four human children of her own, plus pets and grandchildren. But she left it anonymous. And it made me cry. Because I love my doggie family and treat them like humans (some would say better than humans.) Getting a card and gift from someone who is a good mother herself, made me feel like I was a member of the "club". Like I was a mother worthy of the title of "mother". 

There is nothing in my life that compares to even the simplest
of moments spent with my "babies". Probably the best thing
I can say about myself is that there's nothing in their lives
that's as good as being next to me, too. Except bully sticks.
They really like their treats. 

It's all a matter of personal choice. But I feel like I got the best of both worlds. I had a mother who was a far better mother to me than hers was to her. And I have gotten to raise four dogs so far that I can be very proud of and who, as someone recently remarked while we were on vacation, are very devoted to me. The only thing that teaches unconditional love better than a mother is a dog. 

I'm proud to say that the woman I've become is a lot like the woman who raised me. But no matter how much I accomplish in life, I will never measure up to the woman she was. I got one of the good ones. And though she's been gone 30 years—I've lived 60% of my life without her—her spirit lives on in me and my siblings. The challenges she overcame live on. The sacrifices she made live on. Her good work lives on in my sisters who are great mothers. It lives on in two of my brothers who are/were devoted fathers. It touches the lives of all 10 grandchildren she never met and the one she did. They will raise their children, in part, the way our mother raised us. And it radiates beyond that with the kindnesses and love and grace we put out into the world due to the foundation she established.

That's the power of the mother. I'm sure it doesn't feel that way when you're cleaning up barf or dealing with a difficult teenager. But imagine what this world would be without the soft edges a mother gives it...without a brand of love that's given freely no matter who you become or what mistakes you make. Outside of life itself, there is no greater gift to humanity than a mom. 

5/9/14—Loving And The Art Of Gifting

Today's post is a guest post from Sparky and Goddess on Love And The Art of Giving.....

This month, we decided to write about gift giving.  To get started, we treated ourselves to a long, leisurely and somewhat nomadic conversation, exploring our gift-giving experiences, to see wherever we might land together.  

This particular journey found us yakking it up on a late night phone call, traversing through holiday memories, rituals and various cultural landscapes where familiar clusters of colorful, paper wrapped boxes with bows had likely appeared.  Around each box and bow we ascribed feelings of excitement, gratitude, surprise, expectation, appreciation – while also recognizing entitlement, manipulation, judgment, pressure, disappointment, ungratefulness, and so on. 

There was a pattern to both of our experiences - a path to what first appeared like a light, delightful stroll into Candyland and began to morph into an unfulfilling, forced march through a gnarly gauntlet.  Our experiences with holidays, anniversaries and birthdays – not to mention the blatant, communal trance of Christmas excess, had changed our relationship towards observing such traditions and the requisite gifting frenzy.  

Together, we acknowledged that the ritual of gifting - when practiced freely and spontaneously, can beautifully represent something far greater than the thing given.  But, as in so many other aspects of life, when the gifting becomes invested with such heaps of ego, it hogs all the energy and overshadows the finest intentions of celebration and tradition.  We continued chatting like this, recalling various observances that ranged in description from an authentic and intimate expression of love to a grotesque, public orgy of base pathologies.     

We’ve all been to these things that pretty much script out the same.  All leading to the big moment when the king or queen bee must graciously, or maybe not so graciously, receive and react to each gift as spectators ooh and ah appropriately while swimming in a deep sea of complex, subtle parleys that showcase skillsets designed to veil what amounts to judging and being judged.  We had to laugh at the infinite mirror metaphor reflecting a judge judging while being judged as others judge others judging… Sheesh!

Then came the story of a group of 13 year olds that had been picked up in limos for dinner at a Georgetown restaurant, followed by front row seats for a performance at the Kennedy Center and dancing in a private club.  At the club, the birthday girl was found weeping, being consoled in her distress by concerned friends, because a parent chaperone had remained in tow, downstairs.    

We shared the tender memory of a parent that had, year after year, arrived with a modest, but thoughtful birthday gift – each of which were well received and treasured.  It was only later discovered that the same gift had been secured in bulk, and given to other relatives of similar age and gender, year after year.  

It’s a teaching to consider: we want our gifts to be imbued with meaning, but meaning can only be what the receiver sees.

It’s been said that the greatest gift you can ever give anyone is your attention.  To train that upon another and open to blending in that greater field of awareness, connects and fulfills in ways that other gifts and words cannot.  Doing so lays a foundation of connection, a blending of trust and understanding, upon which any other gift in form can lay.  When that foundation is formed and tended too, the greatest gift is already present.    

5/7/14—Rethinking The Golden Rule

I had a revelation in the shower the shower the other day. It's not really groundbreaking or anything, but it has given me some interesting and profound thoughts.

I've always been compelled by how pretty much every religion agrees on the really big things. They all agree there's a higher power of some sort, for example. And most have, as a key dictate, what's known as an "ethic of reciprocity" (aka The Golden Rule) that says you should treat others in the same way you would like to be treated. 

I mean, think of it...once you agree on those two things, as most humans would tell you they do, there should never be war or violence. There should never be fighting over whose God is best. We should live in a peaceful society. Most of the Ten Commandments are covered by the Golden Rule. Most societal laws fall under that umbrella, too. Once you've agreed upon there being a higher power and an ethic of reciprocity that needs to be followed, really everything else is details...what's the god's name, does he have a son, do you have free will...none of that is bigger than "there is a god and he wants you treat others well."

But that's not my revelation. 

My revelation is that, in New Age thinking, there's something they call "The Law of Attraction". And what that means is that your thoughts create your reality. If you believe you're misunderstood, you'll find evidence of that all around you, for example. The Law of Attraction is also said many ways...what you put out comes back to you...thoughts become things...if you believe it, you can achieve it...what you're looking for will find you...even "he who smelt it, dealt it." :D

What I hadn't realized before is that this is the same thing as the Golden Rule. It's just coming at it from a different angle. And it's less of a rule or ethic than it is a law, fact, warning or guarantee. What I mean by that, is that the way you treat others defines the way you will be treated. Not the other way around. So the Golden Rule isn't a suggestion, it's a statement of fact. It's an accurate prediction based on past performance. It's like a mathematical equation. Absolute. The way you would treat others is how you will be treated.

If you're the kind of person that's ready to fight back at least as hard when you're attacked, you will be attacked. There will be a lot of conflict in your life. Because that's how you would do unto others, that's the energy or vibration you attract. And until you change the way you feel and think about reciprocity, you're going to continue to attract that energy, whether you're outwardly attacking others or not. As long as you think "an eye for an eye" is the way to go, you will live in an environment of fear, attack and hair trigger response. 

And as long as you wait for everything around you to change before you change (aka, "I'll give in when he gives in,") you'll be stuck in that cycle. Because think about it, if you're waiting for the other side to wave the red flag, you're essentially saying "I would like the other side to wait for ME to wave the red flag before they give up." Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Maybe this isn't such a brilliant realization...haha. I've just noticed that, over the past few years as I've become a nicer person and have been willing to be the first to give up on fights from time to time, my world has changed. It hasn't changed the people I've struggled with one bit, nor should it. But it has changed their potency and presence in my life. And more than that, it has changed the kind of people who ENTER my life. And that gave me the context to see that the Golden Rule isn't just some Biblical ideal, it's actually an operators manual for how life works. 

And—very important—it's not just about what you DO, it's about what you feel and think and say, too. So if you're an innocent victim of people treating you in a certain way, take a good, hard look at how you think of others. The rule doesn't necessarily work tit for tat, in that if you call someone names, they will call you names. You may hurt people in ways other than they hurt you. The problem is in thinking it's EVER OK to intentionally do harm to another. 

So there you go. If there's an energy in your life that has dogged you too long, change your thoughts and actions. Be the one who gives up the fight first. Be the one who makes a different choice. And don't just do it so good things will come into your life, feel it and think it, too. That's the hard part. There's a certain amount of "fake it until you make it" involved, but ultimately you have to change the way you've been seeing and handling things all your life. 

Ask yourself honestly, "if I knew the Golden Rule was an edict that shaped the course of my life, rather than a suggestion of how things "should" be, would I act differently than I do now?" Some may not. The way we respond to others is just as imprinted in us as smoking or excessive drinking are, and people continue to do that when they know it's killing them. But at least ask yourself. Because you can't change what you're not aware of. And if there's something in your life that needs to change, you're the one that's going to have to do the changing. 

5/5/14—Experiencing Moments of Extraordinary Beauty

Let me tell you about my weekend.

I did some yard work. Walked the dogs. Rested a lot. I didn't accomplish everything on my list, but everything that needed to get done got done. It was, in fact, a completely unremarkable weekend, but for a few exceptions—extraordinary moments of presence and gratitude. 

The picture I used for this entry created one of those moments. More often than not, I watch the sunset from my front stoop with my boy, Kizzie. Sometimes I'm in the moment, but most of the time my mind wanders to chores or bills or work things or conversations I had or wish I'd had. My mind was in this soup of thought—a place it resides whenever I'm not writing or meditating—when I looked up and saw the moon between two cloud formations trying to decide whiter to be rain clouds, white clouds or pink ones. So I started taking pictures, then the moon disappeared behind a puff of cloud. So I sat there, rapt and barely breathing, with camera to eye, waiting for it to reappear again. Then I took this picture. (The moon is just a little north of center in this pic. It's hard to see when the pic is this small.)

When the shot was taken, I noticed that whatever furrowed brow I had before I saw the moon...whatever weight of thought I'd fallen under...was gone and it was replaced by a joyous grin. For a moment, I felt I wasn't just IN the moment, I'd transcended it. "Tierney" disappeared while the drama of the moon and cloud unfolded and when I returned to my body, I was revived.

I'm sure we've all had moments like this. I've just had a lot of them this past weekend. And I think I know why.

The sun, breaking through heavy cloud cover to light Kizzie perfectly. 

It all started with Friday's sunset when my soup of thought churned out, "you have the entire weekend before you and nothing HAS to be done." So I decided to proceed through the weekend with no pressure and no guilt, only gratitude. Then things started happening. The magical moment when the dark clouds broke and lit Kizzie beautifully (not to mention the big smile it gave him.) The moment where Mystic and Magick both flanked me on the deck box while I petted them and joined them on their watch for squirrels. The brief second when, on my way to my car, my nostrils filled with the scent of wisteria from across the street. All of these were one-time-only moments that could either be experienced and appreciated or hardly noticed as we shuffle forth, unconscious, lost in a stew of thought.

Each of these moments, lived consciously, not only transported me, they overwhelmed me with gratitude about the sheer awesomeness of what we get to experience here on earth. I'm getting choked up just writing about it. This place we get to live is filled with indescribable beauty. I tried, this weekend, to imagine a place more beautiful and I didn't even know where to start! The experiences we get to have here are truly magical and ever-changing, too...a buffet of love. This body we inhabit, this mind we have and the senses we use to perceive it all are a miracle. 

Just before the sun broke through on Friday. 

If you had no context to build upon, who we are and what we are would be literally beyond anything you could imagine. And we only know a fraction of the answers and all the amazing possibilities that exist. We haven't evolved enough to perceive or understand or measure what's REALLY going on out there. When you think of the billions of years and all the random interactions it took to create the galaxy, planet and bodies we inhabit, just the fact we're here to experience it all is unlikely. All those random interactions and WE get to benefit from it. It is truly a gift. How we just naturally move through life taking it all for granted is a mystery to me...another unexplainable factor of existence that keeps us from wandering this earth in a constant state of awe.

For me, these realizations were different from the mind-blowing realizations we have when

One more pic of Saturday's moon.

we start thinking about the stars in the sky, the size of the universe or how we came to be. And I've been grateful for and present in simple moments before. But the combination of giving myself permission to accomplish and think about nothing in particular, combined with my overwhelming gratitude to be me in this precise moment, somehow gave me a depth of sight I've never had before, and it gave me gift after gift each time I chose to just be present this weekend. 

We have no idea how long we'll be here. We have little control over what comes our way. But we do get to choose. We get to choose how we'll spend our limited time here and whether or not we're conscious of the beauty in ordinary moments. We get to choose how we respond to the things that cross our path—do we greet them with fear or love? And we get to decide whether or not the sun breaking through dark clouds hurts our eyes or illuminates new depths of our soul. Gratitude and conscious attention change everything.