Listening To My Life

Moments that shape us

"I won’t forget my past to make a do-gooder out of me in the present."

Every now and then I read something written so perfectly--that connects with my soul in such a way--that it stops my breath. That sentence is one of them. The rest of Aminah's post is pretty amazing, too.

I could have written it to describe a period in my life several years ago where I tripped (almost literally) over a crack in my personal foundation that caused me to be so completely out of integrity that I wasn't sure I would recover, much less be able to fix myself.

But fix myself, I did (with the help of an extraordinary therapist), and I'm a much better me today than I was before that happened. So I get what Aminah means when she talks about having no regrets. And me? Looking back, all I have is gratitude for all that I've experienced that has brought me to this place, and to this me today.

Every experience shapes us, but I feel quite certain that defining moments exist for us all. What have yours brought you?

Redo

Gah. I hate it and love it when I realize I've been judgmental. I hate it because I don't want to be a person who judges others as not appropriate/good enough, etc. I love it because when I realize it, it gives me the opportunity to undo/redo what I've done.

The other night, tired in Vegas, I wrote this post about the silly names for the slot games found there. And I still think they're silly. But I went on to make fun of (judge) the people whose jobs they are to create those games and game titles. That was unfair of me, and I'm sorry for having done it.

In truth, I think any work that's done honestly and fairly is good work. I may not want to do it, but that doesn't make it less worth being done.

In thinking about this, I remembered a story from when I was a student at Coach U. I'd written about this story, for a different reason, in an old blog of mine, and in the spirit of transparency, some of what's below has been copied from that post.

Back in the day, I was a CU student, and the VA to Thomas Leonard, founder, and then owner. In fairly short order, our relationship ended. It hadn't ended well (actually, it ended as well as possible and with complete integrity)--I'd needed to leave it behind and T wasn't thrilled with me. And I felt a little bruised and tender.

Unfortunately, as I continued with my classes, T was everywhere because he'd created all the program materials.

I'd purposefully not registered for one specific class, because he was really all over it, but my time was running out and I needed to take the class so I could graduate.

The class was called "Buff," and it was all about how to live a buff life (you can still find it online—for instance, here, from Coachville). The challenge was that it was T's idea of buff, and I was super resistant to it.

But I dialed in for the first of the four teleclasses I'd have to attend about Buff, and sat on my side of the phone with my arms crossed, listening to the chatter that always goes on on telebridges before the class begins. I had a major attitude that day.

And then the trainer started to speak. I listened more closely. It seemed that she was drunk! She was stumbling over her words more than a little, and there was a definite slurring going on. I thought it had to be a joke—no drunk would be allowed to lead teleclasses for Coach U!

And then she started the class. She introduced herself, and said, "For those of you who don't know me, I have MS, and sometimes my voice is better than others—today isn't such a great day."

I don't have the words to tell you how instantly ashamed of myself I felt right then. To have judged her without knowing her or her situation was just heart wrenching for me.

She went on to talk about Buff, and to my surprise and delight, said we didn't have to do it the way T set it up. If something on the assessment didn't feel great to us, she told us to feel free to replace it with something of our own.

And then she said, "For instance, I'm living a really Buff life when I can get to my wheelchair from the bed in the morning without falling on the floor."

Ok… now, if you didn't look at that link above when you read past it before, take a second and do it now. And think about how profound her statement to us was. Somehow, by comparison, always wearing "shined, attractive, and well-heeled shoes" pales, you know?

She changed my feelings about living a Buff life. And she changed my feelings about judging others.

What I try to remember, and did a horrible job with the other night in Vegas when I wrote that post, is that each of us, when we do our best, is buff. And that's why I've rambled on with this story. The next time you see a young person with green hair, tattoos, and fifteen facial piercings, instead of shrinking in horror, look at him with admiration and think, "Wow...what buff hair, tattoos, and piercings!" When you hear someone trying to speak English and struggling, instead of making a disparaging comment, think, "How buff that she's trying it out!" And the next time you see something like slot machines, remind yourself to write and tell me about the buff names you saw and about the buff creativity that went into naming them!

And thank you for the opportunity to share this story (again), and to correct myself in front of you. There are many times that redos aren't possible. I love to take advantage of them when I can. :)

Early yesterday afternoon

Early yesterday afternoon, while driving to visit some friends, I suddenly experienced this incredible sense of lightness—as if a huge weight had been lifted from me, and a feeling of jubilation—the sort one feels when one has won a big prize one didn't expect. I was, for a very brief time, positively giddy, as I searched within myself for the source of what I was feeling. It didn't take long for me to recognize both as feelings that would appropriately come with my mother's death, but I pushed them aside hurriedly; in that moment, they both felt inappropriate as, for all I knew, she was still alive. What I didn't know was that she was already dead.

This morning I was talking with Dawn about calls she was going to make on my behalf to let "friends" know to not call me with any information/details about my mother, and I got an inkling to look at the obits Baltimore Sun online. Presto-magico there it was.

She died sometime on Saturday. She'll be viewed at the funeral home where my father was viewed. She'll be buried next to him. Donations can be made to the Red Cross in her name. All the stuff, actually, I said I didn't care to know was right in front of my face. Now no one has any reason to call me, and that's good.

I noticed that in the obit, among the "loving wife of," and "beloved sister-in-law of," and "lifelong friend of" stuff that was written, the reference to me shows up only as "mother of." No happy phrase to describe the quality of our relationship. And while "mother of" is accurate, it was simply stark to see it. I realized that if the obit writer (my aunt Kay, I'm assuming) had called to ask how I would have wanted our relationship memorialized, I don't think I could have come up with anything suitable. "Missing mother of," or "abusive mother of," or "narcissistic mother of," simply wouldn't have made anyone happy—including me. So characterizing her as the vessel that gave me life is really ok. And stark.

The viewing is on Wednesday; the funeral Thursday morning. Both are going to happen less than a mile from my home. I'm sure there's no coincidence that I'd already planned to be about 100 miles away visiting LE. Being nearby would be energetically difficult for me--I don't know why I know that, but I do.

But back to the sense of lightness and jubilation I felt yesterday. I feel quite certain that that was the Universe sending me a message about her death (albeit some hours after the fact). I'm just way too new at all this intuition stuff to have recognized it for what it was. And I'm sad, too, now that I can see it clearly, that I shut it up and pushed it away. I'm sure it was an experience I would have liked to have had, and deserved to have.

JC did tell me that I'm not to try to control my intuition or the messages that come with it. Instead, I'm to accept it all—as is—without judgment. My not being able to do that cost me something, I'm sure. My sense, though, is that the lightness and jubilation are real, and I'll be dancing with them both, soon enough, and then often. And I look so very much forward to that.

For now, this is done. Her demons are finished, as are the possibilities for good and for wretched—for both of us. Now is the time for me to put all of it, including my wounds, aside, and see what the next part of this journey brings me. I wish her only peace. I wish myself that—but also love, and happiness, and incredible growth, and the ability to finally become fully and wholly me.

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*Photo taken of my parents at my wedding to D--October, 1990. This is how I most/best remember my mother. I don't think I'd ever before, or after, seen her look so serene.

What to blog about?

I was talking with Sandra who was asking me my take on business vs. personal blogs, and why to consider each.

I told her my own tale: I’ve written Virtual Moxie for three years today (yay me—here’s the first post I wrote, if you’re interested!), and still pretty much love doing it. But while a business piece…being published on a blogging platform, it’s not classically a blog, because it’s just written once/week (more like an ezine on a different platform). If I had to post about moxie three or more times each week I would have burned out faster than I can even imagine. I wrote Virtualosophy for nearly as long, ending that ride last fall just prior to my sabbatical. I absolutely had burned out on that one. And have either of them done anything for me in terms of my business? Can’t say for sure. As far as ROI goes, that’s a pretty sad statement.

So now I’m here blogging about my life. It’s authentic and raw at times in a way that feels amazingly empowering and freeing to me, and although I was/am me writing the other two, I never would have said something like “bleeding like a stuck pig” on either of them. No, here I’m me, fairly full out. And here, I am not looking for a ROI. If people enjoy reading me and do, that’s terrific—and of course, I hope that’s what happens, because I’m a communicator and I’d love to think that something I’ve written has been helpful to someone else. But am I “expecting” anything of this? Not from others.

I expect that it will help me with my growth. I expect that it will help me be a better communicator. I expect that it will support me in feeling free to be me—straight out with no apologies. I expect that it will be fun, and I’ll enjoy doing it. Lastly, I expect that it will be a history of me—from where I was when I began it, to where I am whenever I stop writing.

It feels good to write this. And to me, that’s the single best reason to blog, and the only thing that matters when choosing what to give voice to. And that’s what I told Sandra. It will be interesting to see what she chooses to do. :)

Go gently

If you've known me for any length of time, you know that I'm big on being vs. doing. One of the things that has me scratch my head more than any other is all the writing and stuff that goes on about how to do more. Me? I want to do less!

Don't get me wrong, I still want to do stuff. I just don't want there to be a push behind it. I need ease. Lots of ease.

I am the least goal-oriented person I know. I have no "drive," and not a competitive bone in my body. I have no passions, but I have immense purpose. And I'm really great at deciding what are real opportunities I should take advantage of, and which are opportunities for someone—but just not for me. And all of that is just as groovy as it can be, but I've found it super difficult to put it all cogently into words that may resonate with others (I cannot be the only one out there who feels as I do!)

And then I read the following. "Eureka," I thought, "This is IT!" Truly—I could have tried for a thousand years and never written this as eloquently. It was written for women in recovery, and I'm not; however, It makes my soul sing to read it.

Enjoy :)

Go easy. You may have to push forward, but you don't have to push so hard. Go in gentleness, go in peace.

Do not be in so much of a hurry. At no day, no hour, no time are you required to do more than you can do in peace. Frantic behaviors and urgency are not the foundation for our new way of life.

Do not be in such a hurry to begin. Begin, but do not force the beginning if it is not time. Beginnings will arrive soon enough.

Enjoy and relish the middles, the heart of the matter.

Do not be in too much of a hurry to finish. You may almost be done, but enjoy the final moments. Give yourself fully to those moments so that you may give and get all there is.

Let the pace flow naturally. Move forward. Start. Keep moving forward. Do it gently, though. Do it in peace. Cherish each moment.

From The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie.