In my line of work, I talk to a wide variety of people every day, in many different types of business. Most of the time, I am more knowledgeable and educated in insurance matters than they are, and I am the one providing them the education.
But there are also people from whom I learn more every day, and their kindness to me is not something I would ever want to take for granted. I learned a valuable lesson about appreciation and gratitude many years ago, and I will never lose sight of how important it is to both appreciate and acknowledge when someone else has done something for you, not only for them, but for you. That is the hidden lesson of gratitude, the one parents forget to mention when they encourage their children to say thank you, and the one that we forget to acknowledge to ourselves when we are on the receiving end of it.
Years ago, in another lifetime, when I had more money and time than was good for anyone, I volunteered all the time, especially at school. While my main motivation was, of course, to enable my own children to have those experiences, I never lost sight of the fact that without my help, other children wouldn't have had those opportunities, either. And that made me feel good.
In recent years, I have cut way back on my volunteering, because I simply do not have the time that I did when my children were younger. I have to work, and my time is extremely limited, so I must pick and choose more carefully. But a couple of years ago, I did a long volunteer project that almost became my full time job for a couple of months, as we rehabbed an apartment for a transitional living charitable organization.
I was unexpectedly there when the young woman who would be living in that apartment came to see it for the first time, and the lesson of gratitude really sunk in for me that day. She overwhelmed me with her appreciation, and it was almost more than I could handle, because I didn't do it for the thanks or the appreciation of others, I did it because it was a good thing to do.
But her appreciation, her deep gratitude, which I felt so overwhelmingly that day, has motivated her to be a better person, to do a little more for herself and her children, to be successful in her efforts, in part because she does not want to let us down. She is so aware, even now, of the gift she has been given, that it motivates her to continue working hard in order to give back the only way she can - by being successful and making a better life for herself and for her children.
What she doesn't realize is that her hard work and success has also inspired me to do better for myself and my children. Her gratitude has had a much longer reach than anyone could ever have realized, and it continues to enrich lives on both sides of the gratitude equation even now.
We hear a lot about paying it forward, and in volunteering, that is what I did. We don't hear as much about the value of giving backwards, and I think that is just as important, because it connects us to those who have done us right. So often we dwell on those who have done us harm, but by refocusing on those who give us a hand up, we can reframe the world in a more positive light.
I didn't volunteer for the appreciation. I didn't do it to hear anyone say thank you, or to get any type of public recognition. But in all the years that I helped those kids in school, there were only a couple of times that the absent parents recognized the efforts I had made to enrich the lives of their children, and went out of their way to thank me.
It meant a lot to me to have those efforts noticed. In fact, the next time I felt a little burned out on volunteering, and thought about saying no, I remembered that gratitude those parents had felt, and knew it was worth it. That motivated me to be a better and more giving person, which benefited not only the children, but me.
I think it also motivated those parents to try a little harder. By being in my debt, it made them want to do something more themselves. My efforts made them reach to be the same better person they perceived me to be. When they asked me to call on them if I needed a favor, or if there was something they could do to help, they were really saying they would love the opportunity to pay me backwards. They weren't grateful for the money spent, or the activity we did. They appreciated my efforts and my caring. And when I eventually asked them for a favor, as I always did sooner or later, they were happy to be able to do something for me. It was a way to return the graciousness that I had shown to them, and made them feel good, too.
I got to thinking about this during the past week. Gratitude and appreciation seem to be a dying art in our fast paced society today. I work with someone who has frequently gone out of his way for me. He has spent a lot of time educating me, challenging me, strategizing with me, coaching me, and just generally helping me figure things out in my new line of work. I am very grateful, because he didn't have to do any of it, and it has taken time and effort on his part. Although there is a certain motivation for him to help me be successful, after all, if I make money, he does too, he has gone well beyond that, and I want him to know that I both recognize and appreciate it.
I have said thank you on several occasions, and he always turns it away, as though he has done nothing more than the barest requirement. He will say, "It's nothing," or "Just doing my job," even though we both know he has done considerably more than that for me. But it seems he cannot accept the gratitude that I feel towards him for having helped me out.
It is troubling to me when people are unable to accept gratitude, because it is important for them to know that their efforts are not wasted. I always make an effort to acknowledge when someone does something for me, because the next time someone comes along that needs that extra hand of help, I want them to remember that it made a difference for me, and it is worthwhile to give to others.
I am not perfect, many people do many things for me all the time, and I can't say thank you 24 hours a day. But I do try to acknowledge, every single time, when someone has made a substantial extra effort on my behalf. I want them to know I am aware of it, so their extra effort will feel worthwhile to them. And it is important for me, as well, to recognize that there are times when people do nice things for me, for no compelling reason at all.
It can be a harsh and lonely world, at times, and it is good to know that there are people out there who are nice, who are caring, and who can be counted on, even if there is no obvious imperative for them. When you run across someone who has done something for you above and beyond the expected, don't forget to say thank you, and to let them know you are in their debt. A debt of gratitude is the best kind of debt - it reaps rewards on both sides of the equation, and the price is already paid.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Reflections....
I read an item on CNN recently that really caught my attention. It struck me because I knew in my heart it was true, even as I was denying the truth of it in my head.
The item was written by a woman who glanced at her friend's refrigerator and spied a picture of herself posted there. She was most unhappy, because she felt that picture made her look, in her words, "like a chipmunk with mumps." Her eyes were crinkled, her cheeks were puffed out because she was about to burst into laughter - she felt that picture did not put forth the best face she wants to show the world, and she was hurt. And yet, when she complained to her friend about the choice of photos she had posted to remind herself of the very important friendship they shared, her friend was hurt that she didn't value the beauty of her own face.
Well, welcome to my world. Every time I see a picture of myself, I hate it. I look old, I look overweight, my hair is all wrong, my smile is goofy. I hate my teeth, my nose, my face, my body. Simply put, like most women, it's never good enough for me to just be me.
Ironically, my lovely young daughter is the same way. I have a picture of her now, posted in various places around the house, that is simply breathtaking, a photo of a face that anyone would love to wake up to every morning. Naturally, she hates to look at it, because it just isn't good enough. The flawlessness that is her face is not perfect enough to memorialize, in her mind, because surely she could have, should have, looked even better.
Men are a different breed of animal. [I realize that is not ground breaking news, but it seems particularly true in this situation.] Men look at pictures of themselves, and they feel good about the event, the people in the picture, and even themselves. I have noticed over the years that when men look at photos of events, they concentrate on the good things in it, the event itself and the people in them, barely noticing, if at all, their own less than perfect smile, their messed up hair, their goofy expression. Men do not seem to notice balding heads, tubby bellies, pant legs hitched up or other flaws that would send women into psychotherapy to overcome the distress of it all. When women look at a photograph, it is usually with the critical eye to their personal flaw, and they are barely able to see anything else.
What is it about women that forces us to over-analyze ourselves, sometimes to death? No matter how beautiful, how thin, how perfect a woman may be, she wants something more.
Another point that was made in the article was that most women's favorite pictures were taken at a time that we are at our thinnest and most vulnerable. That was a fascinating insight for me, one that I could immediately relate to. The only photograph of myself that is posted on my fridge, which is posted not so I can look at myself, rest assured, but the other two people in it, is one where I was going through a difficult and painful divorce, and people kept worrying about my blowing away.
The only pictures of myself that I am even tolerant of are from when I was so thin, people frequently used the term "anorexic" to describe me, and I had total strangers making unflattering comments on my slender appearance. Even now, when I see pictures of myself from that time, all I can see is a thin woman who looks far better than the one I see in the mirror every morning looking back at me.
When does this process of self-distortion begin, I wonder? At what point do we stop seeing ourselves as valuable, and start to see only the flaws?
My daughter recently saw a photo of herself when she was little, hugging her older brother and smiling, and she seemed surprised to see how cute she was when she was small. She was always beautiful, but while she can apparently appreciate it in herself when she was younger, she cannot look at the same face now and see the even greater, more mature beauty that is there now.
I think that may be part of the reason why I love my pets so much. They validate us as we are, worship everything we do, and they simply do not care what we look like at any given moment. When I wake up in the morning, it is to a face of total delight because I am awake, and good things will now happen. They do not care that my hair is a mess, my breath is not fresh, and I am probably crabby and scowling, because I am not a morning person. They only see that the person they adore, the leader of their pack, is awake, and it is time for the joy of living to begin anew.
I wonder what it is about women that causes us to diminish our own value, from childhood onwards, it seems? While we can overlook all the flaws in our best friends, and forgive almost anything in the women we love, we forgive ourselves for nothing. No matter how others see us, we spend endless hours worrying about the flaws, real and imagined, cutting ourselves down until there is very little left to appreciate in our own selves.
Think how many woman hours a year are wasted in the pursuit of making ourselves more acceptable, not to others, but to ourselves. It's a bazillion dollar business, probably driving the entire economy. It doesn't matter where we are, from the metropolitan city to the roughest hut, we will find women trying to improve themselves somehow, beautifying the masterpiece that God created.
Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't make an effort. There is nothing wrong with trying to put our best face forward. But in my maturing years, I am suddenly learning that if I am not good enough as I am, I won't be good enough any other way, either. The search for perfection is a fruitless one, because there is no such thing, and never will be.
So instead of trying to achieve the impossible, perhaps we should spend more time on attaining the possible. If we need to drop ten pounds for our health, then we should do it, as much for our families as for ourselves. If we have a bad hair cut, then we should get a new one. If we have let our clothing go, perhaps a new outfit is called for.
But we also need to love ourselves as much as others love us, accept ourselves for who we are, and realize that good enough really is. Beauty has never been skin deep. The most beautiful people I know are not celebrities on the red carpet, they are the people I love, the people who share my own personal world. If they can accept me as I am, flaws and all, who am I to argue?
Everyone knows that all brides are beautiful. Why is it that even the plainest woman becomes the most beautiful version of herself on her wedding day? I think it might be because it is the only time in her life that she actually feels beautiful, from the inside out. When you have that many people coming to your party, and you know that the man of your dreams has picked you out of a crowd of millions, it makes you feel special, at least for a little while. That feeling of well-being is reflected in your appearance, and for a few short hours, you know what it means to feel beautiful.
I think there is a lesson there for all the women in the world who worry about their appearance. If you can be beautiful one day in your life, you are beautiful every day. My own daughter calls me gorgeous all the time, and while I know I'm not, I think, in her mind, I just might be. And who am I to disagree with her? Because if I diminish myself, then I am diminishing her.
Go enjoy the day, and know you are beautiful to the only people who matter.
The item was written by a woman who glanced at her friend's refrigerator and spied a picture of herself posted there. She was most unhappy, because she felt that picture made her look, in her words, "like a chipmunk with mumps." Her eyes were crinkled, her cheeks were puffed out because she was about to burst into laughter - she felt that picture did not put forth the best face she wants to show the world, and she was hurt. And yet, when she complained to her friend about the choice of photos she had posted to remind herself of the very important friendship they shared, her friend was hurt that she didn't value the beauty of her own face.
Well, welcome to my world. Every time I see a picture of myself, I hate it. I look old, I look overweight, my hair is all wrong, my smile is goofy. I hate my teeth, my nose, my face, my body. Simply put, like most women, it's never good enough for me to just be me.
Ironically, my lovely young daughter is the same way. I have a picture of her now, posted in various places around the house, that is simply breathtaking, a photo of a face that anyone would love to wake up to every morning. Naturally, she hates to look at it, because it just isn't good enough. The flawlessness that is her face is not perfect enough to memorialize, in her mind, because surely she could have, should have, looked even better.
Men are a different breed of animal. [I realize that is not ground breaking news, but it seems particularly true in this situation.] Men look at pictures of themselves, and they feel good about the event, the people in the picture, and even themselves. I have noticed over the years that when men look at photos of events, they concentrate on the good things in it, the event itself and the people in them, barely noticing, if at all, their own less than perfect smile, their messed up hair, their goofy expression. Men do not seem to notice balding heads, tubby bellies, pant legs hitched up or other flaws that would send women into psychotherapy to overcome the distress of it all. When women look at a photograph, it is usually with the critical eye to their personal flaw, and they are barely able to see anything else.
What is it about women that forces us to over-analyze ourselves, sometimes to death? No matter how beautiful, how thin, how perfect a woman may be, she wants something more.
Another point that was made in the article was that most women's favorite pictures were taken at a time that we are at our thinnest and most vulnerable. That was a fascinating insight for me, one that I could immediately relate to. The only photograph of myself that is posted on my fridge, which is posted not so I can look at myself, rest assured, but the other two people in it, is one where I was going through a difficult and painful divorce, and people kept worrying about my blowing away.
The only pictures of myself that I am even tolerant of are from when I was so thin, people frequently used the term "anorexic" to describe me, and I had total strangers making unflattering comments on my slender appearance. Even now, when I see pictures of myself from that time, all I can see is a thin woman who looks far better than the one I see in the mirror every morning looking back at me.
When does this process of self-distortion begin, I wonder? At what point do we stop seeing ourselves as valuable, and start to see only the flaws?
My daughter recently saw a photo of herself when she was little, hugging her older brother and smiling, and she seemed surprised to see how cute she was when she was small. She was always beautiful, but while she can apparently appreciate it in herself when she was younger, she cannot look at the same face now and see the even greater, more mature beauty that is there now.
I think that may be part of the reason why I love my pets so much. They validate us as we are, worship everything we do, and they simply do not care what we look like at any given moment. When I wake up in the morning, it is to a face of total delight because I am awake, and good things will now happen. They do not care that my hair is a mess, my breath is not fresh, and I am probably crabby and scowling, because I am not a morning person. They only see that the person they adore, the leader of their pack, is awake, and it is time for the joy of living to begin anew.
I wonder what it is about women that causes us to diminish our own value, from childhood onwards, it seems? While we can overlook all the flaws in our best friends, and forgive almost anything in the women we love, we forgive ourselves for nothing. No matter how others see us, we spend endless hours worrying about the flaws, real and imagined, cutting ourselves down until there is very little left to appreciate in our own selves.
Think how many woman hours a year are wasted in the pursuit of making ourselves more acceptable, not to others, but to ourselves. It's a bazillion dollar business, probably driving the entire economy. It doesn't matter where we are, from the metropolitan city to the roughest hut, we will find women trying to improve themselves somehow, beautifying the masterpiece that God created.
Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't make an effort. There is nothing wrong with trying to put our best face forward. But in my maturing years, I am suddenly learning that if I am not good enough as I am, I won't be good enough any other way, either. The search for perfection is a fruitless one, because there is no such thing, and never will be.
So instead of trying to achieve the impossible, perhaps we should spend more time on attaining the possible. If we need to drop ten pounds for our health, then we should do it, as much for our families as for ourselves. If we have a bad hair cut, then we should get a new one. If we have let our clothing go, perhaps a new outfit is called for.
But we also need to love ourselves as much as others love us, accept ourselves for who we are, and realize that good enough really is. Beauty has never been skin deep. The most beautiful people I know are not celebrities on the red carpet, they are the people I love, the people who share my own personal world. If they can accept me as I am, flaws and all, who am I to argue?
Everyone knows that all brides are beautiful. Why is it that even the plainest woman becomes the most beautiful version of herself on her wedding day? I think it might be because it is the only time in her life that she actually feels beautiful, from the inside out. When you have that many people coming to your party, and you know that the man of your dreams has picked you out of a crowd of millions, it makes you feel special, at least for a little while. That feeling of well-being is reflected in your appearance, and for a few short hours, you know what it means to feel beautiful.
I think there is a lesson there for all the women in the world who worry about their appearance. If you can be beautiful one day in your life, you are beautiful every day. My own daughter calls me gorgeous all the time, and while I know I'm not, I think, in her mind, I just might be. And who am I to disagree with her? Because if I diminish myself, then I am diminishing her.
Go enjoy the day, and know you are beautiful to the only people who matter.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The new Edsel...
I have already written this post once, and it disappeared into cyber-space never to be seen again. So I will give it another shot, but rest assured, the first version was better, because it always is!
I learned a startling new piece of information recently, which tells me that change has truly come to America after all. Here in Suburban Bubble World, we have more big vehicles than the Australian Outback, but one of them, the Hummer, is about to go away. I say, better late than never.
I have never been able to understand the fascination with gigantic, oversized vehicles. I just do not understand the need that drives (that is a pun, in case you didn't notice,) some people to jack up their axles and their insurance rates in a quest to look cool driving down the manicured streets of our wealthy suburban county. Don't they realize that in reality, they only look silly? To each his own, I guess, but seriously?
I have noticed a corresponding phenomenon, too. The bigger the vehicle monopolizing the parking space, the smaller the person getting in and out of it. Sometimes I think it looks like a clown car performance, as I'm watching the tiny little owner emerge from the behemoth vehicle she has maneuvered into a parking place like an ancient ship steaming into port.
It could be fairly stated that I, myself, drive a large vehicle. I drive a Dodge Dakota quad cab truck, and I cannot deny that it is bigger than some of the vehicles on the road. However, I also own, way over on the far side, a painting and refinishing business, and my excuse is that I need a vehicle to cart around all my accoutrements for my side business. Since I can't afford to keep around vehicles I'm not using, I am sort of stuck with the truck as my every day driver.
My other vehicle, currently being driven around town by my lovely daughter, is a sedan. I look forward to the day when I can start driving one myself again. [I will just share with you that my entire family joins me in that, since I am not very adept at driving large vehicles. I am the one who spends 20 minutes trying to get into a parking place straight, only to spend another 20 minutes trying to extract myself again when I leave. I will just issue a general apology to the world for that, and we can move on.]
I am not a large vehicle owner, by nature. I do not drive down the highway and pretend that I own the universe. Frankly, I don't have any illusions that I even own my own little portion of it, since my life seems to be constantly careening out of control. I am always amazed by those people who seem to feel that they pay taxes on both sides of the road and want to get their money's worth, judging by the way they hog the center line.
I was hopeful that the gas crisis would signal the end of these gargantuan vehicles, [which are about the same size as the mobile home I lived in while in grad school, by the way,] driving on the road and parking next to me at WalMart. But it seems that the gas crisis has dissipated alongside my retirement IRA, taking away some of the pressure to downsize. In addition, I have also learned that as part of the total financial melt-down of our universe, the credit crisis is apparently preventing owners who are upside down on their credit from getting any further credit, thus preventing them from getting out from under their large vehicles. So it seems we may still be contending them for some time to come, to my immediate regret.
Feeling as I do, you know I saw the news that the Hummer is going the way of the Edsel to be good news. I know it's a jungle out there, especially in urban America, but I don't think a vehicle designed for the army to navigate in a war zone is one that we really need blazing a trail in our quiet corner of suburbia. I wonder at the vision of someone hiding in an assault vehicle, and I'm not just talking about seeing the road, here.
If we want to reduce violence in our society, I think we have to get out of our sheltered cocoons and re-involve ourselves in the real world. I believe that fear breeds more fear. The more we lock ourselves down and shut ourselves away, the more out of touch we are with others whose lives are different and whose experiences don't match ours, the more likely we are to have violence and mayhem, because we will not understand life from any other perspective.
Personally, I think perspective is what it's all about. If you are looking at life through an armoured assault vehicle, everywhere you look, you will see danger lurking. If you are driving down the street in a convertible with the wind blowing gently through your hair, and nothing between you and the world around you, you see things more up close and personal.
When my daughter was a little girl, we used to have a special book, The Churkendoose, which we would read every time we went to visit Grandma. She loved that book, looked forward to it with the most excited anticipation, partly, I think because, in a way, she identified with the Churkendoose in the story. [She also thinks she is Elphaba from "Wicked" but that's another story....]
The Churkendoose was different - part chicken, turkey, duck and goose - and therefore, he wasn't really one of them. They couldn't lock him in a neat little category, couldn't identify him as anything particular, so they were afraid and ostracised him altogether. Only after he proves himself and saves them by scaring the fox away from the coop do they understand it's not about what is on the outside, it's what is inside your heart that really counts.
You can have someone who looks different on the outside be exactly like you in their heart, where it matters. On the other hand, you can live with someone in the same house for years, and have nothing in common at all.
The Hummer is, by its very nature, a barrier to others. In our society, we need to tear the barriers down. I will say so long to the Hummer, without a regret. Don't let the gate hit you in the bumper on your way into the junk yard.
I learned a startling new piece of information recently, which tells me that change has truly come to America after all. Here in Suburban Bubble World, we have more big vehicles than the Australian Outback, but one of them, the Hummer, is about to go away. I say, better late than never.
I have never been able to understand the fascination with gigantic, oversized vehicles. I just do not understand the need that drives (that is a pun, in case you didn't notice,) some people to jack up their axles and their insurance rates in a quest to look cool driving down the manicured streets of our wealthy suburban county. Don't they realize that in reality, they only look silly? To each his own, I guess, but seriously?
I have noticed a corresponding phenomenon, too. The bigger the vehicle monopolizing the parking space, the smaller the person getting in and out of it. Sometimes I think it looks like a clown car performance, as I'm watching the tiny little owner emerge from the behemoth vehicle she has maneuvered into a parking place like an ancient ship steaming into port.
It could be fairly stated that I, myself, drive a large vehicle. I drive a Dodge Dakota quad cab truck, and I cannot deny that it is bigger than some of the vehicles on the road. However, I also own, way over on the far side, a painting and refinishing business, and my excuse is that I need a vehicle to cart around all my accoutrements for my side business. Since I can't afford to keep around vehicles I'm not using, I am sort of stuck with the truck as my every day driver.
My other vehicle, currently being driven around town by my lovely daughter, is a sedan. I look forward to the day when I can start driving one myself again. [I will just share with you that my entire family joins me in that, since I am not very adept at driving large vehicles. I am the one who spends 20 minutes trying to get into a parking place straight, only to spend another 20 minutes trying to extract myself again when I leave. I will just issue a general apology to the world for that, and we can move on.]
I am not a large vehicle owner, by nature. I do not drive down the highway and pretend that I own the universe. Frankly, I don't have any illusions that I even own my own little portion of it, since my life seems to be constantly careening out of control. I am always amazed by those people who seem to feel that they pay taxes on both sides of the road and want to get their money's worth, judging by the way they hog the center line.
I was hopeful that the gas crisis would signal the end of these gargantuan vehicles, [which are about the same size as the mobile home I lived in while in grad school, by the way,] driving on the road and parking next to me at WalMart. But it seems that the gas crisis has dissipated alongside my retirement IRA, taking away some of the pressure to downsize. In addition, I have also learned that as part of the total financial melt-down of our universe, the credit crisis is apparently preventing owners who are upside down on their credit from getting any further credit, thus preventing them from getting out from under their large vehicles. So it seems we may still be contending them for some time to come, to my immediate regret.
Feeling as I do, you know I saw the news that the Hummer is going the way of the Edsel to be good news. I know it's a jungle out there, especially in urban America, but I don't think a vehicle designed for the army to navigate in a war zone is one that we really need blazing a trail in our quiet corner of suburbia. I wonder at the vision of someone hiding in an assault vehicle, and I'm not just talking about seeing the road, here.
If we want to reduce violence in our society, I think we have to get out of our sheltered cocoons and re-involve ourselves in the real world. I believe that fear breeds more fear. The more we lock ourselves down and shut ourselves away, the more out of touch we are with others whose lives are different and whose experiences don't match ours, the more likely we are to have violence and mayhem, because we will not understand life from any other perspective.
Personally, I think perspective is what it's all about. If you are looking at life through an armoured assault vehicle, everywhere you look, you will see danger lurking. If you are driving down the street in a convertible with the wind blowing gently through your hair, and nothing between you and the world around you, you see things more up close and personal.
When my daughter was a little girl, we used to have a special book, The Churkendoose, which we would read every time we went to visit Grandma. She loved that book, looked forward to it with the most excited anticipation, partly, I think because, in a way, she identified with the Churkendoose in the story. [She also thinks she is Elphaba from "Wicked" but that's another story....]
The Churkendoose was different - part chicken, turkey, duck and goose - and therefore, he wasn't really one of them. They couldn't lock him in a neat little category, couldn't identify him as anything particular, so they were afraid and ostracised him altogether. Only after he proves himself and saves them by scaring the fox away from the coop do they understand it's not about what is on the outside, it's what is inside your heart that really counts.
You can have someone who looks different on the outside be exactly like you in their heart, where it matters. On the other hand, you can live with someone in the same house for years, and have nothing in common at all.
The Hummer is, by its very nature, a barrier to others. In our society, we need to tear the barriers down. I will say so long to the Hummer, without a regret. Don't let the gate hit you in the bumper on your way into the junk yard.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Jagged Edge of the Universe
It has been a hard week around here, and I took a mental health day today. As I was driving around running errands, I was thinking about how life looks from my vantage point, and the thought came into my head, I am constantly on the jagged edge of the universe. Well, that is surely the title of a book, one I will have to write some day. In the meantime, this poem will have to do....
Jagged Edge of the Universe
Everyone has moments in their lives,
Moments that are frozen in mind,
Moments that they relive
Over and over again,
Almost in slow motion.
Every breath, every scent,
Every movement is there,
Instantly available for recall.
Every time I find myself,
Struggling to find my place,
Hoping for a newer space,
I look for something different,
Than haunting
The jagged edge of the universe.
For me, those moments, every one,
Are not times wreathed in joy or fun
But in crisis mode, hopelessness
Pervading the very air I breathe.
My life, once again out of control,
Shattered by a fate beyond me still.
The first such moment, and the last,
Equally painful to behold.
Those moments take my breath away
I cannot think about them without
Feeling the pain anew.
And each time it has happened,
I have found myself struggling,
Once again on the edge of the abyss
The jagged edge of the universe.
It doesn’t get easier,
Those who say it will have lied,
Or they have never dangled their lives
Over the dangerous drop off.
I haven’t gotten stronger
Or more prepared
Like they said I would.
I am no more able to cope
Than I was when I was a child.
If it gives anyone hope,
I can say,
With clarity and faith,
That I have gotten farther away
From the edge.
It doesn’t own me.
It will take more to push me over.
It wasn’t always that way.
I haven’t always felt this strong.
I have fallen, many times,
And clawed my way to the top.
Life has stepped on my fingers,
Forcing me to let go once again,
Falling into the depths.
But peace is a choice.
You can find it
Even in the midst of catastrophe.
You must insist upon it,
Strive for it,
Look for ways to have it.
And then
Every time I find myself,
Struggling to find my place,
Hoping for a newer space,
I will find something different,
Than haunting
The jagged edge of the universe.
Jagged Edge of the Universe
Everyone has moments in their lives,
Moments that are frozen in mind,
Moments that they relive
Over and over again,
Almost in slow motion.
Every breath, every scent,
Every movement is there,
Instantly available for recall.
Every time I find myself,
Struggling to find my place,
Hoping for a newer space,
I look for something different,
Than haunting
The jagged edge of the universe.
For me, those moments, every one,
Are not times wreathed in joy or fun
But in crisis mode, hopelessness
Pervading the very air I breathe.
My life, once again out of control,
Shattered by a fate beyond me still.
The first such moment, and the last,
Equally painful to behold.
Those moments take my breath away
I cannot think about them without
Feeling the pain anew.
And each time it has happened,
I have found myself struggling,
Once again on the edge of the abyss
The jagged edge of the universe.
It doesn’t get easier,
Those who say it will have lied,
Or they have never dangled their lives
Over the dangerous drop off.
I haven’t gotten stronger
Or more prepared
Like they said I would.
I am no more able to cope
Than I was when I was a child.
If it gives anyone hope,
I can say,
With clarity and faith,
That I have gotten farther away
From the edge.
It doesn’t own me.
It will take more to push me over.
It wasn’t always that way.
I haven’t always felt this strong.
I have fallen, many times,
And clawed my way to the top.
Life has stepped on my fingers,
Forcing me to let go once again,
Falling into the depths.
But peace is a choice.
You can find it
Even in the midst of catastrophe.
You must insist upon it,
Strive for it,
Look for ways to have it.
And then
Every time I find myself,
Struggling to find my place,
Hoping for a newer space,
I will find something different,
Than haunting
The jagged edge of the universe.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
That's what little girls are made of....
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day 17 years ago today. How do I know this, you may well ask? I usually have trouble remembering yesterday, so it is not run of the mill for me to remember a day from years ago. But that day was the most special kind of day - a once, or in my case, twice, in a lifetime day. I remember it so clearly because my beautiful daughter, Erin, was born 17 years ago today, and changed my world forever.
There are lots of opinions on what it means to have a girl come into your life. They are sweet, they are sour. They are perky, they are depressed. They are fun, they are a nightmare. They are all these things, sometimes simultaneously. They will mix you up, and stomp on your heart, and then they will smile, and suddenly, none of it matters. Because they are your world, and without them, the world wouldn't be the same.
My relationship with my daughter has changed over the years, as I moved from Mama, to Mommy, to Mom, to Mo-ommmmmmm, and now, once again, I am back to Mom. As she has grown up and changed, so have I, and so has our relationship.
This relationship with my daughter is one of brutal honesty, one in which there are no holds barred, nothing hidden or tucked away. She doesn't hold back, and neither do I, as we navigate closer to her independence day. But if you have no barriers, you can also love unconditionally, and there is no other love so purely unselfish. But even as she starts to move away from me for real, we are becoming closer in our hearts.
The biggest change comes now, as she approaches adulthood, and suddenly, she is no longer just the student, learning at my feet. As she has grown, there is more give and take, and now, I learn from her, just as she learns from me. We are still mother and daughter, and will always be. But we are more than that - we are becoming friends, and it is that which causes me the greatest joy this day.
I am sad to see her leaving childhood behind so quickly. I don't know where the years have gone, and I don't understand how my little girl is suddenly so grown up. But at the same time, I look forward to seeing who she will become, to watch her move from potential to reality.
My daughter is everything I ever dreamed of, and so much more. I wouldn't trade my daughter for all the stars in the universe, or all the diamonds in the earth. She is priceless, and my heart will never be the same.
Happy birthday to my wonderful, fabulous, most special daughter. Although today is the day for you to be showered with gifts, you are the real gift, and I am the luckiest mom in the world, because you were given to me. That is what I am celebrating on this day.
There are lots of opinions on what it means to have a girl come into your life. They are sweet, they are sour. They are perky, they are depressed. They are fun, they are a nightmare. They are all these things, sometimes simultaneously. They will mix you up, and stomp on your heart, and then they will smile, and suddenly, none of it matters. Because they are your world, and without them, the world wouldn't be the same.
My relationship with my daughter has changed over the years, as I moved from Mama, to Mommy, to Mom, to Mo-ommmmmmm, and now, once again, I am back to Mom. As she has grown up and changed, so have I, and so has our relationship.
This relationship with my daughter is one of brutal honesty, one in which there are no holds barred, nothing hidden or tucked away. She doesn't hold back, and neither do I, as we navigate closer to her independence day. But if you have no barriers, you can also love unconditionally, and there is no other love so purely unselfish. But even as she starts to move away from me for real, we are becoming closer in our hearts.
The biggest change comes now, as she approaches adulthood, and suddenly, she is no longer just the student, learning at my feet. As she has grown, there is more give and take, and now, I learn from her, just as she learns from me. We are still mother and daughter, and will always be. But we are more than that - we are becoming friends, and it is that which causes me the greatest joy this day.
I am sad to see her leaving childhood behind so quickly. I don't know where the years have gone, and I don't understand how my little girl is suddenly so grown up. But at the same time, I look forward to seeing who she will become, to watch her move from potential to reality.
My daughter is everything I ever dreamed of, and so much more. I wouldn't trade my daughter for all the stars in the universe, or all the diamonds in the earth. She is priceless, and my heart will never be the same.
Happy birthday to my wonderful, fabulous, most special daughter. Although today is the day for you to be showered with gifts, you are the real gift, and I am the luckiest mom in the world, because you were given to me. That is what I am celebrating on this day.
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