***

C pointed out that I always leave the vanity mirror door slightly open. Without thinking, I said, ‘that’s so I don’t have to look at myself when I get out of the shower.’ Whoa. Then I noticed how I worked at an angle when I stood in front of the kitchen sink–as if I couldn’t quite bring myself into the present moment for fear that it wouldn’t live up to my expectations. When it came to other people, places, and  things, I saw beauty everywhere. I saw it in the jaunty set of the red knit cap and dirty orange fleece of the old man as he walked past our house. I saw it in the pile of mangled bicycle wheels, in the macabre skulls and twinkle lights over the bar at Cantina Diablo, in the faces of strangers, in the faces of friends. It is so obvious to me when I look at anyone but myself. I look at myself and I see a list of self-improvement projects the completion of which promise the future in which I can finally let myself feel safe, happy, and alive. I have a feeling I’m not the only one.

***

It’s been a while since I posted with any regularity. There were some things I had to work through to get to the place where I felt I was sharing rather than looking for approval from outside of myself. That’s the thing, you know? No one else can give us what we need. While I was away from this space, I figured out what I want and am practicing giving it to myself. Beauty. Everywhere. Even in the mirror looking back at me.

I missed you.
♥a

At first I thought it was all falling into place–finally: part-time job, on the bus route, doing work I enjoyed. On Saturday, we went to a beer making class at our local home brew store. While most people were inside getting warm and talking about hops, I went outside with one of the instructors to add the last of the ingredients to the wort. As we watched the liquid boil, we got to talking about his computer repair business. I asked him if he was busy, he said, ‘Too busy I’m looking to hire an assistant’. I said I’m looking for work. He was interested in talking more. Sunday I emailed my résumé. Monday I went in to see the shop, talk about the job, and meet his wife. No fuss, no bother, informal, open, honest, respectful. Until the forms started. First an application. Then a job description to be read and signed. Then the interview questions. She turned out to be a ‘human resources professional’. The interview went as most do: I was asked to be open, honest, and scrutinized while she established the power balance by revealing nothing about herself, asking questions that inferred I was untrustworthy, dishonest, and incompetent. He sat and watched. I left feeling like I needed a shower.

At first I thought it was merely a vulnerability hangover–par for the course when it comes to interviews. Still, I got to thinking. I’ve got my own human resources training. A four-year degree in industrial and labor relations, eight years in personnel management in the Army, all together over 30 years working with people. The methods she chose are dehumanizing, short-sighted, and pervasive. The seedling of collaboration was doused with toxic chemicals labeled best practices.

Instead of taking my place as the supplicant, kowtowing to a self-declared superior, I am the change I want to see in the world. I refuse to perpetuate a default us versus them relationship. I thank her for showing me so clearly and quickly that my contribution would not have been valued or respected.

The star people are here now, and they play by a different set of rules. So do I.

I slept. Deliciously, deeply. I woke feeling like a new person. Then I slept some more. It makes such a difference to sleep. I slept for three hours in a row without being woken by a cat. Ruby seeks more comfort as she makes her  return to nothingness. She demands more frequent feedings as her metabolism has sped up. She lost her hearing and yowls deep, plaintive songs when she notices the world is too quiet. When I stay in the moment and simply feel her soft, smooth fur as I stroke her back, I enjoy touching her. As soon as I look back to when we met 13 years ago or ahead to the time when she is no longer here, my throat closes and my eyes fill with tears; I feel pain. So the pain is not in this moment. The other day I came across the idea that fear exists only in the past and in the future, not in the present. So, truly, love is all there is?! Words carry me backward or forward. Now is wordless Oneness.

And, still, I write. Instead of answers, I have questions. And it’s the stories that you want to hear and that I want to tell. When the words won’t say what I want to express, there is color, and light, and sound.

One by one I release the way I think things should be and experience the way things are and I am rewarded with a glimpse of beauty. And that is why I take photos of wires in the sky. Until April, I saw them as something that should not be there, that they were marring the beauty of the sky. Then I saw that they were there. And they were beautiful.

Coffee made, cats fed, journal open and pen in hand, I counted five of situations in my life about which I felt resentment, felt I had to get through in order to be free enough to feel happy. Five? Really? That didn’t sit right, so I asked myself a question.

What if these situations are gifts?

Suddenly, I saw each of the people about whom I felt resentment as holding a road sign pointing the way just for me! The more I was bothered by the situation, the clearer the road sign!

Five situations with the same lessons:

I get to have my reaction/experience and she gets to have hers.

I can disagree with someone or she with me and we can still like each other if we want/still have things to share.

I have an urge to keep things as they are rather than trusting the unknown even when I don’t enjoy the way things are.

And, (this one knocked the wind out of me) these experiences are the entirety of my life and to avoid the feelings of going through them is to avoid living.

I get personalized road signs along the way.

Today’s alchemical reaction: resentment  into gratitude.

Learning Curve:

1. I can do this

2. Uh, oh this is harder than I thought

3. I can’t do this!

4. Grrrrrr

5. Baby step

6. Baby step

7. I can’t do this!

8. I will do this

9. Baby step

10. I did it. That wasn’t so hard after all.

Repeat as needed.

♥a

Every day advertisers, newscasters, and politicians tell stories of a world filled with war, terror, depravity, and violence.

We allow them to scare us into choosing sides, arming ourselves against those we convince ourselves are out to get us, seeing strangers as enemies. I reject that story. That is not my world.

Every day I witness compassion, grace, and spontaneous selfless service.

This morning I heard the screech, clunk, and groan of a car crash outside my window. Conditioned by fear, I am still learning to open the door and look for ways to help. Sometimes I call 911, most times a neighbor has gotten there first.

I heard a man ask, “Are you OK!?” And a neighbor rushed out of her house still tying her robe and asked, “Is everyone all right?!?” And then I saw the other driver: a woman standing with a little boy wearing a red backpack. And waves of feeling crashed through me: feelings of fear and adrenaline and relief and disbelief. Not my feelings and, yet, I felt them in my body– waves of energy so strong as they passed through me that they hurt my heart, and squeezed tears from my eyes. I wanted to resist it. Let it flow, I remembered, and I acknowledged its power and allowed it to pass.

There is so much kindness in the world.

We see what we want to see.

I see that we are all connected: strangers on the bus trying to make our way home.

♥a

March 1988. We were only in Paris for a few hours while waiting for a train to Copenhagen. And I could hardly wait to leave. I was so intimidated. Too insecure to try out my French. Unaware of the class system and social mores, I fumbled. I attracted disdain and impatience. I didn’t trust myself and I experienced things that showed me that. It took me a long time to understand how I had created my reality.

June 1999. I bought a plane ticket on a whim. I spent two of the best weeks of my life traveling solo in and around Paris. People were kind, patient, welcoming. I didn’t look or act like a  tourist. I spoke my best French and graciously accepted corrections. I’d learned the social niceties that were expected. I reveled in the sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes, the language, the parade of people. So many tiny, beautiful, exquisite experiences packed into each day. And they didn’t cost a lot of money. There are no big things, just compilations of many small things. Details matter to me, and there I followed my senses wherever I felt like going. And I loved it.

I found this cartoon shortly after I returned. It moves from vision board to vision board as my life and dreams change. It resonated with me. I didn’t have words for why. Until now. Because, somehow, much to my surprise and delight, I turned into that person I thought I could only be while in that magical city. It took me a long time to understand how I had created my reality.

I started to trust myself and that’s what I experienced.

I stopped hiding from my geeky, trusting, heart-on-my-sleeve, intuitive, analytical, sassy, funny self.  And somehow, tiny detail by tiny detail, a state and a city where I thought I’d never feel at home feels more like home than anywhere on earth. Because home is where I am me.

I’m still going back to Paris.

♥a

 You are the Universe, expressing itself as a human for a little while. ~Eckhart Tolle

Since that’s the case, I will be who I am. The Universe asked me to.