Tag: letting go

life lessons, mindfulness

Let’s Hear It For The Fog

mimijk

 

You think I’m kidding?  One of those Mimi-epiphanies yesterday as I was driving home from the mountains.  I watched the fog descend from the tops of the trees, resting its covers on top of the valley.  I was going to drive home under that blanket, so to speak.  Windshield wipers would flap intermittently without rhyme or reason.  Headlights would appear from nowhere; the air swollen and impenetrable.  I already felt a sinus headache coming on.

Better to get it over with and drive.  Packed up the Sirs, found NPR on a station I didn’t recognize and off we went.  We tip-toed down the mountain, acutely aware that every sharp turn is not yet second-hand,  we gently rolled through small towns.  Respectfully and quietly.  You’d never know we were there.

Once on the highways, the sun began to challenge the density of the air.  We were good to go.  And I realized that fog is really given a bad rap.

When in fog, one can only focus on what is in front of you.  There’s no looking for the next curve, anticipating the alternatives that a clear vista provides.  Your primary requirement is to get from point A to point B.  That’s it.  There’s not too much to consider, your eyes don’t look around with wonder and mild confusion at all that is in front of and around you.  No sense looking in your rear-view mirror very often either, for you can’t see anything back there.  True, you can pull over and just succumb to the opaqueness – most keep going.  And get through.

It isn’t the clarity at the end of the journey that I celebrate though.  It’s the process of moving in the mist.  Recognizing that in all that murkiness is the greatest focus one may ever have.  Nothing else teases for your attention, no one can distract you from your purpose.  And it is in those moments of uncompromising concentration, priorities get distilled to the most fundamental.  What matters is only what is before you.  The eye candy, plans for later, the expanded vista of possibility are irrelevant.  Just focus and feel the strength of getting through.  There’s something to be said for that.

courtesy of wallsave.com
courtesy of wallsave.com
anxiety, friendship, humor, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

Pick A Card, Any Card…

mimijk

I always wonder how magicians do it.  Being quite naive and slow to track a sleight of hand, I’m one of those excellent candidates that others shake their heads at, wondering how I could have missed it.  I miss it every time.  So when in the audience, I never volunteer.  I’m too easy.  Andy figures out all of these tricks – it’s part of that male mystique of his that requires the provision of an acceptable answer.

Lately I feel like I’m the one trying to figure out the scheme.  And as usual, I’m not exactly blinding anyone with my brilliance.  Rather, I’m letting each moment happen and have surrendered to the limits of my intellect.

In the past few weeks, there has been a health scare with my son (he’s totally fine – but if you think I could string two coherent words together at the time, you’d be giving me way too much credit).  I stayed awake – certain that if my vigilance failed for a moment, something awful might happen.  I’m not sure I was breathing, yet I must have been, ’cause I’m writing to you now.  As soon as I heard he was ok I saw myself as a puddle on the floor.  No longer with any form or substantive thought.  It doesn’t matter whether or not he understood my reaction for it wasn’t/isn’t about me – he’s the child (even though he’s an adult), I’m the mom.

One of my sons completed his MBA.  This is his second Master’s degree – both completed while working full-time at one of the most unforgiving consulting companies when it comes to time and billing (let me take that back – all professional service firms are unforgiving when it comes to time and billing).  Yes, I whooped when they called his name (but at his request, I didn’t yell “Go baby!”).  These men o’ mine are no longer men o’ mine – they are husbands first.  And I wanted my mama lion role back (with no disrespect to either one of my lovely daughters-in-law), mourned the loss of the role I know well.  Chuffing at the opening of my lair…

Andy’s parents are moving to CA to be closer to their daughter and her family.  The weather will be kinder. the opportunities greater for my father-in-law to golf, my mother-in-law to get involved in some activities.  Andy’s up there helping them get organized until he makes it home today.  We’ll go back up together on Wednesday.  I’ve been here before; there’s nothing about it that’s easy.

My cherished friend going through the ebbs and flows of possible transitions – not knowing from one moment to the next whether she’s going-along-to-get-along or passionately caring about the life choices ahead.

So I wake each day with a hint of worry attached to my coffee cup.  My shoulders a bit more bent.  Roles change all the time, relationships morph because that’s what relationships do.  The earth always moving beneath our feet and relying on our sense of balance to remain upright.

And yet…I am acutely aware that everything is ok.  I caught two blue jays yakking it up yesterday afternoon (wow are they loud).  The early morning stars shone with such clarity I wept at their beauty.  I gratefully accept the morning’s invitation.  Somewhere inside I am as full and fortunate as any one person can be.

I am going to take a page from some of my fellow bloggers and take a bit of a hiatus.  It’s not good-bye of course, just some time to fiddle with the idea of blogging, maybe change the paint on the karma truck, rotate the tires, shift gears so to speak.  It’s time – we’ve been on this road together for a long time and rather than lose the company, I’d prefer to pull over and park this baby for awhile.  Get outside, renew, re-think, restore.

And maybe, just maybe when I get back, I’ll be able to tell you just how the magicians do it.  See you soon.  Much love…m

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humor, life lessons, mindfulness

From The Top Of The World

mimijk

“Well, there is narcissism in all of us, of course.  I mean we are the protagonists of our own lives, so naturally it feels like we’re at the wheel.  But we’re not at the wheel.  That just happens to be where the window is located” — Jean Marie Korelitz

I’ve been up at the mountain house since Sunday.  It’s good to be back, though the first few days without any connectivity to the outside world was a little daunting.  No phone service, no Internet.  I thought that would be fine – and it was, except when the night encroached and I was reminded that I am a very little, inconsequential person in the great big scheme of things – and the mountains are a fairly imposing backdrop from which to consider this.  What serendipity has brought me to this place in time.  And yeah, there were occasionally shout-outs imploring the universe to keep me safe.  So far, so good.

On some level it appalls me that silence can be unrequited, when it is so necessary and valuable.  I’ve been struggling a lot of late with the outline of this next story line in my life (made even more difficult by the fact that I have yet to figure out what I want to be when I grow up).  Itchy, out-of-sync, closing off more parts of me to see if I could get to the essence of what I want.  The reality is I need this silence right now (though it is good to be able to converse with you again).  With all the noise going on in my head, something had to force me to be still.

I have not arrived at any great conclusions, though I feel like I’m on the cusp of…something.  And I’m feeling a bit less anxious about not being able to touch it.  When you can’t avoid yourself, you have to figure out a way through the mild panic and self-deriding thoughts that circle around as a cyclone.  Stepping outside myself to look inside and provide the reassurance that it’s ok.  Let life carry me – for that is what it’s going to do anyway.   What hubris to think that because I want answers now that I’m supposed to have them.  They’re en route – like the spring.

I marvel that the buds on the trees, the flowers, etc are so insistent on blooming regardless of the temperature.  They’re straining to burst forth, determined to honor their rightful time in the sun.  A part of me wants them to be a bit more self-protective and wait until the temperature proves more accommodating.  Another part of me is cheering them on, encouraging them to claim their rightful place.  They’re going to bloom, in their time and on their schedule.  I am learning a lot from them.  The hide-and-seek exercise that transitions us from one season to the next, and the incoming season is always ‘it’.  And always wins.  So with this thought, I toy with a new season in my soul.

It’s all good.  Learning to give myself a break, give myself permission to stare at the clouds, read a book in one sitting, make some tea and just savor.  Savor my husband, my children (when they allow me), the cocoon I am ensconced in on top of this very large and imposing mountain.  Make music in the silence and write a verse that has yet to be sung.

 

life lessons, love, mindfulness

Juggling Reality

mimijk

I’m not the most graceful person – never have been.  I can trip over nothing, miss the lip of my coffee cup, bump into a wall – and that’s just walking from one end of the kitchen to the other.  Would that these were marketable skills.  What I typically balance well though are the variable weights of the thought bubbles in my head.  Have you ever stopped to consider how many disconnected thoughts jump around your mind in a five-minute period?  Some complete, others rejected.  Some stubbornly intractable, others as ephemeral as a breeze.  So we go through our days.

Perhaps it’s the disparate qualities of these thoughts that make them manageable.  When life events collide, and the thoughts are connected despite the qualities that make them each unique – well, that’s another story…that’s the stuff of which headaches are made.  Juggling – it’s not for the faint of heart.

Over the last few days, much has happened that is disparate yet similar.  Andy turned sixty.  My aunt passed away.  Our well temporarily ran out of water – literally.

Sixty is an impressive number.  A bit frightening even though the alternative is far scarier.  And this generation of ours is making sixty look damn good.  My daughter-in-law added a perspective I hadn’t considered – a birthday just makes you one day older than the day before.  Well that just means that Andy is 59 plus a few days.  And he wears it well.  But when he looked at me yesterday and simply said “I’m sixty years old”, I felt the weight of those words.  He is surprised naturally – how did we get here?  I’m still wondering whether or not he’s going to ask me to go steady.

We also had just come home from the funeral service for my aunt.  I hesitate to write too much about her, for as much as I loved her, there are four cousins of mine and six grandchildren who are the rightful authors of her story.  She was a vibrant, social, politically passionate spitfire with a great smile.  I remember lots of family moments at her house.  Her husband and my dad (they were brothers) singing “The Bluebird Of Happiness” before collapsing in tears of laughter.  Laughter.  That’s it.  I remember laughter.  I choose to remember laughter.  And how loving they were to my children.  Her last years were stolen by Alzheimer’s – an unforgiving thief.

And she was the last of my parents’ cohort group.  The last of my aunts and uncles.  It suggests that my sister, cousins and I are now next in this ineffable path.  I find that a difficult thought to hold onto for very long; I want to drop it, so I can pick it up when I’m ready – and yet it feels like it’s covered in Velcro.  I’m not ready for all the ramifications of being a grown-up.  My hunch is none of us are.  I am in love with life and I am angry that it has to end as we know it.  My head aches.  My heart aches.  And the sun rose this morning as it always does.

The well feels a bit dry as you can probably tell.  The well guys were here already this morning and needed to swap out a part, advising us to keep the power off for a couple of hours to give the well a chance to refill.  It seems like good advice.  Sometimes you just have to power down and give it all over.  Cry a bit.  Accept that there are questions without answers or at least fight them with less vehemence.  Let the sun hurt your eyes as it warms your skin.  It’s okay.

RadiatingBlossom.wordpress.com posted a poem yesterday which has stayed in my bones.  It seems a far better closing thought than anything I could offer.

The Thing Is –  Ellen Bass

To love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you’ve held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

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friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness

Ciao Winter!

mimijk

Yes, it’s a ridiculous minus-something with windchill.  Yes, the driveway is a skating rink and it has been pretty amusing to watch Bogey try to run from one side to the other without looking like a cartoon character.  Oh and the cold is the kind of cold that settles in your skeleton, intent on staying indefinitely.  I think I forgot to mention that we were the recipients of another 7-8″ of snow yesterday.  Let’s not even talk about the stomach flu that Andy felt compelled to share with me.  And yet…

This is what I saw this morning…

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We all know I’m no photographer – I have absolutely no eye or aesthetic.  But you know what I saw?  I saw the subtle hint of spring, despite shivering so hard, my iPad kept jiggling.  I noticed that the buds are beginning to swell slightly, the birds are starting to flirt with each other in that musically suggestive way that they may consider subtle (but we all know what’s going on).  I saw a sun that delights in its insistence that it will defy the reality.  How can you not gaze at that brightness and not feel its intention?   Images of hope and promise and warmth.  Somehow this morning it all seems far less complicated, far less encumbered with doubts and ‘what ifs’.  It really is simple – life moves forward.  Indomitably.  With or without us.  Might as well let it go and go with the plan.  My hunch is that it’s going to be awesome.

 

anxiety, friendship, life lessons, love, mindfulness, motivation

Mornings With Joanne

mimijk

The weather was accommodating while Joanne was here – it rained without interruption.  As a result, we spent Tuesday inside – no distractions (but for the Sirs, who are very capable of disrupting anything for attention), no interruptions.  Although Jo and I see each other once or twice a year, we began our conversation wherever we left it last.  Given that this thread was picked up after forty-plus years of silence, it’s nothing short of amazing.

I can spot her anywhere – it’s her smile or her eyes moving from one point to another scouring the area around her to ensure its familiarity.  Or perhaps it is the intimate awareness that comes from understanding another soul so well that it can call you silently.  Alan said she has a ‘beautiful spirit’, a description that she wears far better than her too-loose jeans.

This year has been a test for which no one really prepared.  Hurricane Sandy hit her neighborhood almost as hard as it hit her husband’s business.  The intricacies of bureaucracies responsible for remediation challenged nerves already too frayed.  Rebuilding is expensive, exacting payment from one’s wallet and one’s sense of well-being.  She and Ben are well on their way, though anxiety chooses to linger and makes sure that its presence is never forgotten.  Jo reminds me of a kite – always has.  She flies and dips with the rhythm of the wind, making glorious loops and circles, dipping down precipitously and grandly, only to catch a gust of air to lift her up with easy gracefulness.  There is something about the sun and the breeze and Jo in flight – it’s a visual that never fails to delight.

Yet life teaches you that sometimes you have to be grounded.  You have to move forward in the far less appealing, plebian way of placing one weighted shoe in front of the next.  There is the need to be present when present is the very last thing one wants to be.  The relentless reminder that we are needed on this walking path.  There is no flight, no game of tag with the wind.  It is perhaps harder for those who revel in the movement of the air, those who are defined by their limitless potential for love, ideology, hope and a dash of resistant innocence.  I can see the little girl within, arms folded defiantly, her chin raised and her bangs almost shaking with the affront of being grounded.  And because I love her, I want for her to always feel the indescribable freedom of dancing in the air.  And because I love her, I suggest that there is beauty to be found on the footpath.

And just as she alit on Monday, she was off again on Wednesday morning to warmer climes.  But as is Joanne’s way, she left the essence of that spirit here.  Sitting in the kitchen on this early Saturday morning, drinking some coffee and regaling me with her tales from the sky…

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anxiety, discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, motivation

Sometimes The Lesson Isn’t Yours

mimijk

One of my friends is anticipating the publication of her book, “The Poor Man’s Feast”.  I don’t have an advance copy, but I have advanced knowledge of the author – I’ve known her since she was one of my campers (the fact that we are now peers seems generationally impossible – and yet…).  If you ever need additional delight in your day, check out her blog of the same name.

Lissie’s book is an autobiographical account of her life with family, friends and food.  They are inextricably connected and her stories both amuse and intrigue; her recipes (some of which I have tried) are drool-worthy.  You would think that she would be reveling in the excitement of this achievement.  Certainly those of us who love her are celebrating her success with choruses of encouragement and congratulations.  And yet, Lissie has worries that are not hers to own.

Yesterday she wrote me about some recent familial experiences which have prompted anxiety about the anticipated reaction of some of her relatives to her book.  Although names have been changed and she has the talent to allow her voice to ring with sincerity and love, she is fretting about some of the less-than-kind comments that have come her way lately from some members of her tribe.  I think my response to her was incomplete, despite my efforts to be supportive.

Another friend of mine is trying to find her sea legs after being upended by the tragic impact of Hurricane Sandy.  The family business was seriously damaged, requiring too much negotiation through the bureaucratic nightmare that governmental agencies and insurance companies seem to require.  Perhaps perseverance is a an unwritten rule prior to receiving relief – they winnow out the weak who give up with resignation and despair.  Not Jo – give her a cause and she will rally passionately.  Which is all well and good unless your heart feels like it’s being cracked in the process.  And though the plant is officially up and running, the residual emotional exhaustion is a toll no one should have to pay.  You’d think high premiums and ridiculous deductibles would be enough, wouldn’t you?

And another friend who is self-employed, ponders daily about what she should be doing or could be doing to bring in more business.  How to effect a paradigm shift in companies who are holding onto stasis as a dog might covet a bone.  As she expends hour upon hour considering alternative and creative ways of changing mind-sets, she ends up questioning herself and works hard to avoid the temptation of an abyss of self-doubt.

What do these situations all have in common (other than my incredible love and respect for these women)?  The search for meaning.  The gnawing, relentless question of how to contort one’s self to fit into a current reality.  But what if these aren’t questions for us?  Perhaps these aren’t our lessons to learn, rather the lessons for those around us.  What if this is a lesson for Lissie’s family – to learn (or not) the ways we love and accept and delight in another’s gifts?  For others to learn the adverse impact that a non-stop revolving door has on customers who have placed their trust in your promised services?  And a company to learn that nothing from nothing really does leave nothing, and in order to thrive you have to change that which is obsolete and ineffective?

Sounds simple, but on a very fundamental level, I think it’s hard to grasp.  We choose to think that every lesson is for our edification.  And though I believe that we do ourselves a great injustice when we miss those instructive moments, I think we do ourselves an equally profound disservice by thinking that each life lesson is somehow karmically presented for us.  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar; sometimes an ‘a ha’ moment is designed for someone else and we are just bit players in their story.

Perhaps I write this because I so want my friends to be happy.  Because I think each of these women is so phenomenal and loving and talented and smart that nothing but joy should govern their days.  Maybe though it is a message for us all – the sacrilege of stating that not all of the universe’s intent is for our benefit.  And in those moments, when we accept with humility that it is about others, we can offer the greatest example of what we have already learned – to love.

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anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Over-thinking And Missing The Point

mimijk

See High Above – Marlena Morling

You step outside

into the early morning

in autumn –

 

And at the exact same instant

a scrap of paper

floats over –

 

High in the blue

blustery library

of the air –

 

You look up

and you see it rushing

and lifting

 

even higher

into the transparent layers

of the sky –

 

And at once,

you know

it is a message –

 

A message

that there is no message.

The scrap of paper

 

is just a scrap of paper!

It is weightless

and free

 

The world is just

the world –

And you are exactly

 

who you are –

Also floating now

high inside

 

The invisible

balloon of

another moment.

What if we could just let it go?  Give ourselves the grace of not second-guessing, seeking the ever-deeper answer, reflecting on our belly buttons until we can no longer remember why we got so engrossed in the first place (hint – there’s nothing going on worthy of self scrutiny of your navel)?  What if we took the worry du moment and greeted it, acknowledged it for what it is and then remember that whether or not we hold it, its resolution will come?  How would our day unfold if we wrote our sorrows on bits of paper and cast them into the wind – for whether we clutch them with tight fist or hold them loosely or let them go – the only thing that will change is the cramp in our fingers?

I hold onto things for too, too long.  I carry them with me as if they are some unique treasure that must be coddled and cared for, when realistically they have little long term value.  The typical takeaway for me is that I shouldn’t have wasted so much emotional energy.  ‘Lesson learned for next time’, I tell myself.  And this little voice in my ear laughs and wonders who I’m kidding.  The truth is, that which should be held onto for that extra moment longer are often the things we miss as we’re moving on – a hug that transmits love, a conversation with a friend who just needs you to be one, a tumbler of Grand Marnier in front of a fire (or hot chocolate with marshmallows – and you have to get to the marshmallows at the perfect in-between-time when they’ve melted but are still formed).

Why is it that every time – every time I look up at the sky and ask “Please?” and say “Thank you” (which I do often enough in a day that I probably am developing a reputation in the neighborhood as the lady with the dogs who walks around talking to the sky), I am lighter?  And if we know that our most peaceful moments come when we let go, do we insist that each time we don’t, we’re justified for doing so?   I swear to you I have some thoughts on this – and I know you do too.  In the interest of perpetuating my adapted version of National Listening Day, I’d rather hear why you hold on so tight, when we could instead release such encumbrances?  What do you think?  Anyone feel like letting go of the string?

anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

A Shocking Admission

mimijk

I suppose it’s time that I tell you a long-held secret about me.  It will certainly surprise you;  perhaps you will feel that I have duped you for these past seven months.  I’m truly sorry, but it was something I needed to do.  Now that I am coming forward with this admission, I can only hope you’ll understand.

I am a super hero.

If I could lower my head in shame for having withheld this from you for so long, I would – but then I couldn’t see the screen and would make too many typing errors.  By day, I am a completely unassuming woman, hardly distinguishable from any other woman of a certain age.  In this persona my height serves me well,  for often I can go practically unseen (unless of course someone trips over me).  The Sirs rest comfortably – the house is filled with that mellow glow associated with abundant calm.  I walk gently through life – thankful, secure and full of granola.

As the sun begins its descent in the western sky, my synapses begin to fire with a fervency that is hard to control and my breathing accelerates.  I feel my heart pumping with the  intensity that Olive Oyl used to have when she would see Popeye (yes, I’m dating myself – but work with me).  My thoughts begin to race as if they were competing in a track and field event.  Yes, it is time.  As the moon rises, I become

 I use the nighttime to obsess and worry issues and potential issues to death.  If there are no problems to be slain with my powerful concern, I will create some.  After all, I consider it my duty to keep my little circle of friends and family safe from disconcerting  ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes’.  I leap from one outcome to the next, determining options and exit strategies, potential routes to happiness and/or obstacles to success.  Have a terrible boss?  I’ll worry that one for you.  Are you feeling flu-ish?  Don’t fret – I’ll jump to pneumonia and back with the expectation that by the time I return you will be feeling much better.  Kids plucking your very last nerve?  Fear not, I can go from worst case diagnoses to kids just being irritating,  before you can say “Mimi, put the DSM-IV down”.  As you can imagine, these midnight meanderings are exhausting.  I am probably the only person who is happy that Daylight Savings Time is over, because the sun rises earlier – shortening my super hero work schedule.   Now you know why I post so early in the morning – it’s my way of capping off another fretful night of slaying imaginary scenarios and plotting the capture of one too many unpleasant outcomes.

As the sun comes up I return to my leggings and sweatshirt, take the Sirs out to commiserate with a tree or two and look up at the sky.  And I become the person you have come to know.  The person who literally thanks God everyday for the gift of the morning.  The person who can’t yet meditate but can take up a small, easy space in this world and delight in doing so.  The one who believes that miracles happen all the time if you keep your eyes open, so why the heck am I worrying anyway?  At the end of the day, we are all contradictions in terms – super hero and every-man/woman;  Broadway star and bathroom lounge lizard; successful professional and frightened sham;  Big Kahuna and one who wipes out before even reaching the wave.

“To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle.  I have adopted the technique of living life from miracle to miracle.” — Arthur Rubenstein