Alyse In Words

A Year of Practicing Contentment


Leave a comment

Authentic

Days 93-96:  There are a number of things I could say about the past few days.  It’s easy enough to say that I spent most of the week thinking about last weekend and being in a space and with people around whom I could simply be myself.  It felt freeing and powerful and all week I felt like I was testing the limits of my skin wanting to just be more myself every day.  It felt untruthful and weak because I realized how much time I spend all week being unable to be myself.  I know I am not unique in this.  I’m pretty sure that most of us have the various faces we wear for the benefit of the workplace or the professional situation, the casual setting.  We work so hard at pleasing others that being ourselves becomes a guilty pleasure, a hobby, or worse–something we hide.

I am not content about this.

Am I ready to face the possible outcomes of expressing my authentic self and authentic thoughts here?  There is the excitement of stepping off into the unknown to figure out where it is fall or fly.  There’s the fear that it will be met with silence.   No, that’s not right. If people read what I have to say and say ‘pbfffft’ to it, I’m good with that.  I wonder what the reaction of people who have known me in other places and times in life will be.  Nonetheless, if the choices are backward, forward, or stagnate; I must choose forward. Doing 63 looking in the rear view mirror doesn’t work.


Leave a comment

Not What If

Day 85:  I noticed something today.  I have gotten rather good at not worrying about ‘what if.’  It’s that part of being that rises up when things are going well and reminds you of what happened the last time or ten years ago.

In the past I had one of those life-altering events that leaves, as a friend of mine says, scorched earth.  Not just everything upset but everything destroyed.  While I carry some scars from those events, I can tell you that I foolishly spent time creating my own chaos when things began to become good again.  I have a theory about this that is part medical, part psychological and part me having a bit of an epiphany.  When we are faced with crisis or life-altering issues, our bodies produce a big push of adrenaline and our brains tell us to use it for fight or flight. If the crisis is ongoing, we get used to that constant feeling of being energized and on the edge.  Then things begin to settle down.  And here is where the choice comes in.  If we want to continue on that adrenaline high, we need to create new chaos, stir up new drama, fuel some tiny problem until it’s raging.  Otherwise the spotlight disappears and life change must occur. I’m not sure which is more difficult, looking yourself in the mirror and telling yourself to stop or having someone else pointing out that you are doing it.  It requires some thoughtful determination to stop the drama wheel from churning and discovering what your new norm can be.   I do know that when we stop creating our own drama, it becomes easier to believe that there can be no more pianos falling from the sky to squish us or be haunted by the ghosts of past failure.   If I am going to imagine my future and conjure some ‘what ifs’ then I choose to imagine that all the drama in life is on HBO and that my problems are short-lived, minuscule critters who are highly allergic to my breath of calm.


Leave a comment

Semi-colon

Day 77:  There is such power in words.  A practiced speech may sound important but simply be well-rehearsed.  Those words that are spoken in staccato rhythms that sound like hail on a tin roof and pile up on the ground, causing you to look for ways to step around and over them.  Those words have unrestrained power.

I heard so many of them today.

I’m tired of dealing with this. I’m tired of dealing with the complaints and all of it. How about you take it over completely?  All of my practice saying yes to things I want and no to things I don’t want to do stuck in my throat.  This is a friend with his head in his hands.  I replied with something that got him smiling and nearly tap danced my way out of the conversation.  He was able to clearly express his needs and desires and I managed a flimsy maybe.

My son told me he was going to go live with his step-dad and get rich selling drugs with him. I told him he’d just end up in jail.  And I told this person they won–my employed son who pays his bills and goes to counselling and is struggling toward a life is a prize by comparison.  When I asked them if they believed parenting ever eases up when you have a struggling young adult, they looked me straight in the eye and said No. I don’t think it does. But we’re built to endure more, too.  I told them that sometimes I wish truth could always be served with a side of wine and chocolate.  They nodded and we hugged one another for a while. I mentioned a couple of resources she might use and we both went back to work.

Why do we feel like we need to pull people back from the edge when they say they want to commit suicide?  This world is nothing but a pile of shit. What are we pulling them back to?  The shit?  Or just so we have company in the shit?  I felt like he sideswiped me.  It was the first time all day I remembered to really breathe.  It’s nearly noon and I’m in a meeting room with these words clanging in the air.  I told him this: Not all of the world is shit.  The world that I work to create for myself every day is not shit.  It’s a good place.  And if I pull someone back, it’s to that good place–even if only for a while and I remind them of something I learned long ago–good things grow with only a little nurturing and the layer of shit is just fertilizer.  I am unapologetic about this. Anyone is worth the effort and ultimately everyone sooner or later makes their own choice.

It was exhausting.  At the end of the day I came home and showered off the grit but saved what I believe may be the beginning of a map.

 


Leave a comment

Visualizing What’s Not

Days 70 & 71:  I continue to revel in what’s not.  I smudged the house and let the wind sweep though the rooms.  Things here feel lighter and changed.  The house is not suddenly, magically organized and simplified.  However, it looks as if I have managed to set up a Spring clean-up for my neighborhood of about 400 homes.  Not my kitchen cupboards.  Not the office/craft space closet.  No.  None of that.  But I spent hours making it possible for our non-HOA’d, unincorporated village to have Spring clean-up.  Someone print me a sign that says, ‘Really?  What were you thinking?’

I have not heard about my car’s transmission issues and I am just not worrying about it.  I do have a sign that says ‘Worry is a misuse of imagination.’  It reminds me that worrying about the future is about as useful as trying to change the past.  It doesn’t get you a step further.  As a former champion worrier, I assure you this is true.  I enjoy visualizations and this is something that works for me.  Did you ever get a song stuck in your head and nothing turns it off.  Close your eyes.  Visualize the person/band performing the song on a stage.  Imagine yourself turning off the spotlight, pulling the plug.  Then say ‘The show’s over’ and visualize the dejected performer(s) exiting stage right.  It works for me.  And I am working on one that has to do with worries that crop up or old memories that don’t do any good.  I bid them farewell and tell them to have a nice trip.  Then I see them stacked onto the deck of a boat (or walking on board with a suitcase).  The boat moves away from the dock and I watch as it sails off into the sunset. Gone. It requires a little faith in yourself and practice but it can work.  If not, there’s always sangria and chocolate chip cookies. Exhale.

 


Leave a comment

I Didn’t Do It

Day 69:  There were a number of things that I didn’t do today that were rather fabulous as far as I’m concerned.  I got up at what would have been 4 AM last week and didn’t whine or give in to a big urge to consume coffee.  Caffeine is not my friend.  I chose plain tea and some Michael Franti on Spotify to jolt me awake.

I did not spend time telling myself how bored I am at work.  I thought about how much energy I would have this evening (and I did!) to begin work on my office/craft space.

I did not flip out and begin imagining the horrors to come when I determined that the new(ish) car needed to make a trip back to the warranty garage and Magical Keith because now the transmission is having petit mal seizures.  There was a calm, rational conversation and I am driving another loaner car.  Inhale:  The car is going to be fine.  Exhale: I am so grateful for warranties.

Sometimes it’s what we don’t do that’s the real accomplishment.  Who knew?


Leave a comment

Promise-Scented Winds

Day 68:  It was warm and windy outside and I invited some of that breeze into the house.  I had a lazy day on the exterior.  I didn’t cook. I didn’t eat much.  I did take some time to visualize and breathe. I’ve heard it said that we are inhaling and exhaling the same air breathed by Buddha and Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Bette Midler. I have been thinking about relationships and personal growth and I think it’s similar.  We have remarkable friendships and loves and those relationships move forward in time.  Some stay, some meander off, others we cling to for too long and still others we halt.  Then winds of life blow through and stir up feelings or memories and we reexamine them.

Today I thought about some of my relationships and change. My dad was a violent alcoholic. I remember coming home from some fete at school.  It was my 18th birthday and my parents had forgotten it. They were arguing, it escalated and I had my dad arrested.  That’s some ugly stuff.  As an adult, I poked around at family stories and learned about what happened to turn a creative, thoughtful boy into a bitter, brutal man.  I learned to put distance between kid-me and Dad so that as adult-me I could see Ted the person. I found compassion for kid-him and damaged adult-him.  I don’t sit around massaging old wounds and trying to remember the pain.  I’ve let it go.

I don’t understand why we cling to stuff and try to convince ourselves that we can change the past.  It’s like going to the cemetery and arguing with bones in the ground.  Bones don’t answer and you look foolish.  I think a lot of being content is choosing to let go.  I mean, have you ever seen anyone skipping down the street saying, “Wow!  This resentment I’ve been clinging to for 10 years makes every day pure sunshine and the future a promise of goodness!”

About a year ago, an old acquaintance from high school started chatting with me on Facebook.  Someone else contacted me and said, ‘She treated you like crap in high school. What’s with being all buddy-buddy?’  I remember laughing a little and feeling sad for the other person.  It was simple math–45 years of time and space and life changes makes one difference.  If you choose to let go.  I choose to.  I don’t pine for the good ole days.  I want to be able to look forward to the remarkable new days that belong to adult me.  Silver-haired me.  Those days were blowin’ in the wind and I’m glad they are blown away.  These days are swept with winds of change.  These winds are scented with sage and citrus and promise. Lots of promise.


Leave a comment

Celebrate Everything

Days 65-67:  My house has hardwood floors and a little tile flooring sprinkled in here and there.  I really love the soft look of the wood, sliding across in warm socks and even the click of dog toenails as the pack follows me around the house.  Brooming the floors is a simple task but it always reminds me of life lived here.  In the crevasses of the boards there is the sand and soil of Colorado land, dog fur, crumbs and the occasional wink of glitter.  The wind blows in, the dogs shed off, people laugh while eating cake or muffins and sometimes there is a reason to open the box marked “Celebrate Everything” that is filled with confetti, glitter, beads and sequins.  Yes, we have tossed it in the house. Yes, it’s impossible to sweep it all up.  No, I don’t mind.  As I was sweeping today, I was reminded that my pretty floors arrived via a tough time.  We had flooding in the basement 5-6 years ago and I was able to squeeze the insurance dollars into basement repairs and flooring for the rest of the house.  It was an unexpected mess that became a real gift.  I’ve been complaining about the properties of aging but lost sight of the home repair grant that I got only because I’m older.

I have been looking at relationships through a different lens, too.  I want the solitude and I want people around me.  I like being alone and it gets lonely.  Talk about fickle.  But it’s where I am right now. In the past few weeks several people I know have died.  They were old and long-lived and young and brought to closure far too quickly.  It reminded me that I’m here and breathing and whether I am accomplishing things speedily or slowly at least I have the chance. I can focus on the flour dusting the floor or focus on the honeyed flavor of the perfect loaf of challah my son baked for us.  I can think about having a rough week or focus on the kind of support and friendship I had during the week. I’ve had texts and a couple of phone calls.  Even an IM with a link to an article telling me that one’s blog writing can be improved with orgasms.  Two people  reached out and told me that things written here mattered.  Another person said they want to get to know me better.  When I was a kid growing up in chaos, in a house in the alley, I would have more easily believed in finding buried treasure than possessing such a strong circle of friends.

Tomorrow I move forward and start again.  I’m planning to smudge the house tomorrow.  I will use cedar and sage and a few other herbs and maybe a pinch of glitter from the “Celebrate Everything” box to remind myself that change is in the air and that, in itself, is reason enough to be happily content.