Listening To My Life

Quotation I love

"Maybe the more we try and will ourselves to states of bliss, the more
confused we get. To the point where we don't recognize ourselves.
Instead, we just keep smiling, trying like hell to be the happy people
we wish we were. Until eventually it hits us...it's been there all along.
Not in our dreams or hopes, but in the known, the comfortable, the familiar."
-- Grey's Anatomy

Anew: Lessons learned from old pjs

Remember back when I posted about ditching 100+ items of clothing that no longer fit?

I didn't ditch my pjs. I reasoned that pjs that were extra roomy could only be pjs that were extra comfy.

But then tonight, I put on a pair of old, big, comfy pjs, clipped my Blackberry to the waist band of my bottoms, took two steps, and the pjs literally fell off my ass. I guess the combo--pjs that were too big, plus the couple of ounces of weight of the Blackberry and holster--were just too much.

And the lesson? Don't hang on to stuff you've outgrown. ANY stuff you've outgrown. There's a reason it's been outgrown, and holding on to it only postpones the inevitable...that of getting the new stuff you so richly deserve, and that fits you perfectly!

Memories

My father had the bad manners to die 19 years ago today. For those of you who have gone through a holiday death, I feel ya, big time. For those of you who haven't, let me just say that it forever colors your experience of that holiday. ForEVER. If you ever have a choice in the matter, please don't die on an important day. It's hellaciously more painful for those who are here after you're gone.

Last year was the first time I slept through the night. It amazed me. Tonight? I'm obviously not that lucky. It's amazing how memories flood back at the least opportune moments. And then there are the mental images, and this year--olfactory hallucinations. How lucky am I, huh? It would be better if the memories were of good things. But today? Just of the day he died--where just about the only "good" memory I have has to do with some alcohol-induced momentary raucousness that occurred after we'd left the hospital. Irreverent and inappropriate as it was, it's the only memory I have of that time that makes me smile.

In some ways, I wish that Christmas Eve were a day full of friends, family, and especially noisy kids I love who couldn't help but absolutely call my attention elsewhere just by their being. But it's not. It's a quiet day usually spent alone because everyone is either working, traveling, or getting themselves ready for Christmas in whatever ways they do.

And so the memories come as if to keep me company. They don't seem to know that there really are times when I'd prefer to be alone.

Let your love show

Popping around the blogosphere to catch up with some of my favorite women, I stopped for a visit with Elena. Her post about this sticker she saw made me think that I never told my own similar story.

 

 

I shared it there with her in a comment, but wanted to share it here with you.

 

On the day I learned my mother had died, Dawn met me at one of our fav lunch haunts for Soothing Lettuce Wraps, Salt and Pepper Calamari, and Kung Pao Chicken—all the comfort foods needed on a day like that day.

 

Out on the parking lot after lunch, she wrote, in lipstick, a message to me on my car window. Here’s the snap I took of it:

 

 

I thought I'd keep it there for a week or so, and imagined that rain and other elemental forces would ultimately wipe it off. But six months later, it’s still there (Dawn did just rejuvenate it a bit earlier this month, and it looks as good as the day she first did it).

 

I never realized how truly warm and happy I would feel every time I see it. Nor did I realize how many people would engage me about it. But I’ve been to countless banks and other drive-through places where, upon seeing it, someone will say something like, “I love you, too!” or, “Awww…thank you for loving me!” and thereby make my day (and doubtless his or her own, as well).

 

I had to have some body work done on the car back in the spring, and when I went to collect it, the body-shop owner said to me, “When I washed your car, I was going to wash that window, but decided that was a pretty important thing you have on it, so I washed around it.” 

 

The point? Love matters. People love love. They love talking about love. They love connecting around love. And given the chance, they’ll respond to it—even around absolute strangers. What can possibly be better than that?

Getting to what matters--do I have to do A before B?

Things are getting interesting here in my world.

 

For the past eleven years, I’ve pretty much played exclusively within the auspices of my company, AssistU. It’s been, and remains, such a joy to me, and I look forward to all of what we (my staff and I) still have to accomplish there.

 

But this year, I’ve become certain that it’s time for me to step out into my own light. I don’t know the best way to frame it—every way I do it seems to lead me to sound like I’m leaving AssistU behind—and nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that I know that what I have to offer is needed by more people than just those in the AU community.

 

That's when Dawn said, "It's time for stacybrice.com." Ummm... ok. She's right. I know she's right. That's just not how I'd originally seen things, dontchaknow.

 

My initial offerings are clear—coaching, and retreats that help women figure out, and then get on with, what’s next for them (there are so very many women in transition—mothers facing empty nests, people downsized from their workplaces, boomers having to retire but not ready to “quit,” just to name a few).

 

What became immediately unclear was how to capture myself--as a site, and more, as a logo. Intuitively, I know the logo has to come first, because, for me, it will then inform everything about the site. So I've gone off for a first round of logo designs, and had a devil of a time explaining myself. And that’s funny to me because I know myself very well, and it would seem it should be easy to express to designers who I am in a way that they could then give me something terrific. But the first round hasn’t been so, and that’s a tad disheartening.

 

Also, as part of knowing myself, I know that the more options I look at, the more dulled my ability will be to choose well. It’s kind of like tasting that 25^th wine, or smelling that 30^th perfume. It’s just all a bit too much.

 

I’m reminded of when I worked in a big-name (no longer in business) retail department store in the china, crystal, and silver department. We were all cross-trained to also handle the bridal registry, in case the bridal consultant wasn’t available. She taught us to never let a bride look at more than three patterns of anything (china, crystal, or silver) because adding more choices just muddied everything.

That’s where I am. It’s muddied. What I want is to see the perfect logo and have the experience of exclaiming, “That’s IT!”

 

I’m impatient about it. I want to move forward. I want to announce my new coaching programs, and the next “What’s Next” retreat. I’m excited, but feel like I can’t get there (to the announcing) until this logo thing is resolved.

 

Maybe I’m running a racket on myself. Saying I can’t do B till I do A. Maybe I can do it differently, and then, when the logo thing is resolved, add it all on to the new stacybrice.com site (don't bother looking, btw, there's nothing there yet!).

 

This is when it would be just lovely to have someone sweep in, create something without asking me any questions, and just take the decision-making out of my hands. Perhaps good enough is good enough??

A change in the way I want to experience Bday celebrations

My birthday is a week past, but the celebration isn’t yet over. People I love who couldn’t be with me on the actual date of my birth are still making plans to see me to do just that. What’s not to love, right? And I do love it.

To me, birthdays are the most important days of the year. To me, someone's birthday is a day on which to shout out loud how delighted we are that someone else exists, and is in our lives. Sure, sure, we should let people know how we feel about them every day. I absolutely agree with that. And, I think we can also have one special celebration day (or in my case, it seems to be a birthday month!) for each of them when we very pointedly show them how much they matter.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a post for a blog I no longer write, in which I said that I’d shattered a common practice in my life—that of providing loved ones with lists of gifts I’d like to receive for special occasions. It seemed to me that anyone who loves me ought to be infinitely able to think of a gift I would treasure, and in doing that, the gift would become even more treasured. So I told everyone I would make no more lists. Since then, including this birthday, I’ve been gifted with some of the most heartfelt and remarkable things!

But this birthday, I had an experience that’s calling me to shatter another common practice—that of telling loved ones what I want to do to celebrate my birthday. I realized, in a big way, yesterday, that what I want is for people who want to celebrate with me to plan something for me, and then take me to do it. I mean, it’s great to get to do exactly what I want, eat dinner where I want, meet for group lunches at the restaurant of my choice, based on my whim, but until yesterday, I didn’t consciously realize how much I dislike that.

What showed it to me was that E invited me up to the city for dinner. I arrived shortly after 3p, he met me at the train, and whisked me uptown to the Frick. I’d not been to the Frick, and not being a museum-loving kinda gal, I wondered why in the world he would have taken me there. But it was magical for many reasons, including the Garden Court, where we sat and talked for quite some time.

Leaving the Frick, he took me to dinner at Taj—another place I would never have ended up on my own and am oh-so-happy to have experienced. It’s a very sexy, sultry, delicious sort of place with a zen-like, hedonistic feel (if you can imagine that). We sat in a “cabana,” which is a private area with a sofa with lots of squishy pillows, and had a remarkable dinner. At dinner, he gave me a pair of exquisite earrings. I was just all aglow at being loved so very much.

There was to be more fun in store for me, but we dallied so much at Taj that there really was just enough time to get me back to Penn Station and on my train home.

All the way home I thought about my other loved ones, and our celebrations. They were all very special, and I chose how they'd be, as I'd pretty much done all my life. I chose where, and when, and what. And E’s gift of planning and taking me to such special places made me realize how much I want that level of celebration. I want someone to plan the lunch; I don’t want to have to do the planning.

And part of that is because when I have to do the planning, I tend to plan around what I already know, and what I think will make everyone else happy. I’d prefer for someone to pick an activity, or place that maybe s/he knows about, or has heard about and investigated, and thinks I would enjoy. Then the person could tell me where to go, or better yet, pick me up and take me there. What a delicious thing that would be!

I’m thinking that, at least in America, probably the models I’ve followed are common. I’ve just decided I want a different level of experience on the "celebration of me" days. And it’s a gift I want to give to those I love, too.

Now to figure out whose birthday is coming next, so I can get to planning! :)

How do you celebrate? What models do you and your family follow? I'd be interested in hearing more, so please leave a comment. :)

Tuesday's lesson

Tuesday’s lesson was one I’m still smirking about. If this doesn’t qualify me for the dumbass of the year club, I really don’t know what will.

D and I were watching TV, and I decided to change my nose jewelry. In order to see how it looked, I took a picture of myself with my crackberry. Unfortunately, I missed my nose entirely, and instead got just my eyes. See for yourself:

 

I stared at myself for awhile, as if I’d never seen myself, and passed the crackberry to D.

“Are my eyes really that blue?” I asked incredulously.

“Ummmm… yeah. They are.”

WHO KNEW???

Seriously… I’ve been looking at myself in mirrors for most of my 44+ years on this planet, and while I obviously knew my eyes were blue I had no idea they are as blue as they (apparently) are. So you know I took more pictures. And every one of them revealed the same thing. It didn’t take long for D to start truly looking at me like a freak of nature. In reality, I felt (and feel) like one.

The eye color lesson continued yesterday, and into today because I’ve had to have some photos taken—headshotty things to go with a project I’m working on. And after a hundred or more frames, I really have to conclude that my eyes are, in fact, far bluer, than I knew.

You might ask me how it’s possible that, nearly 45 years into my life, I didn’t know about the color of my eyes. I can only imagine that it comes from the fact that there are no pictures of me that clearly show the color of my eyes. I hate (the understatement of the day) having my picture taken, and I work really hard to deal with it as little as is humanly possible. So that’s one reason.

The other is that I obviously see something when I look at myself in the mirror that’s reflected differently in photos. Why that’s that way is beyond me, but it appears to be so.

So now I understand better why the occasional person will ask if I wear colored contact lenses. It’s always struck me as a very funny question to be asked, but at least now I get it.

Have you learned anything like this about yourself further into your life than makes sense? If so, would you share with me so I can at least feel like I'm not alone in my dumbassness, dumbasshood, dumbassiosity?

This being awake and aware...listening to my life stuff is quite a hoot at times.

Today’s lesson—an explanation for one of my crazier habits

I went to see Made Of Honor, and loved it, loved it, loved it. I think it’s just knocked Love Actually off the top of my movies list. After, I went to Borders to buy the soundtrack, which was really very nice. But it seems Sony didn’t release the soundtrack. Not to stores, not to iTunes, not even for download from them directly. It doesn’t even show up in any catalog of available or about to be released music. Screwy, that.

Now, I should have just left the store when I realized I couldn’t get what I’d gone for; stores, especially bookstores, tend to be dangerous places for me. They just have so many very enticing things in them—and usually not just books, but blank books for writing in, and calendars, and magazines, and games, and little gifty things, and…well, I can spend a mint in bookstores. The problem is that I buy stuff that appeals to me there, but get it home and hardly ever touch it again. Isn’t that just the craziest? It sure explains why wandering around in bookstores is unwise for me, though, and why I have about fifty books in stacks on my office floor I’ve not touched since they day I brought them home.

But wander around I did, and while I was doing so, E called. I told him about where I was and about how it was so dangerous for me. He said what was to become my lesson for today. He said, “There’s a certain joy in the procurement acquisition.” (I corrected this to reflect what E actually said)

Man. He really nailed it for me. I actually enjoy the process of acquiring the stuff. It’s the looking, selecting, and buying I love—far more than the having. In fact, the having can be a bit of a let down, as whatever drew me to buy it in the first place doesn’t pan out to be as wonderful as I thought it would be as I considered, then chose the thing I was buying.

It’s not that I’m a compulsive shopper. I don’t have to shop at all, and I am perfectly able to go into most stores, look around, and buy nothing. But when I see something I want—something that genuinely floats my boat—I usually buy it, and then it just sits.

And I rarely return things that aren’t as wonderful as I thought (which is why things sit). On some level, it seems a big hassle to go back. I do end up giving a lot of neat things to charity, though, whenever I finally realize I’m not going to use whatever I bought.

The more I write about it, the more twisted this seems. Do any of you do seemingly whacko things like this? And if so, do you just let them “be” in your life, or do you work to change the craziness? My fabulous therapist, M, would challenge me with this question: “Does it impact your aliveness?”

Well, yes, and no. Not on any remotely big level, but it is wasteful (in terms of money spent that could have been allocated for other things). Of course, given that it all ultimately ends up with a charity, I guess one could make the convoluted case that my compunction is actually, in the end, being put to some good. But really, given the choice…would I rather have the funds to do something else with, or am I content having it go to charity?

Maybe that’s the lesson for tomorrow.

You Can Heal Your Life--the movie

Last night, D and I went to a screening of the new Hay House film, “You Can Heal Your Life” (see the info/trailer). Our massage therapist, Nancy, had invited us to come to Ojas (voted Baltimore’s best Yoga studio--yay!) for it, and we were excited (ok, I was excited, and D was along for the ride, but he ended up liking it well enough).

If you’ve not heard of it, this is an inspirational film based on Louise Hay’s book by the same name. In it, Louise and other metaphysical and self-help authors and experts (like Cheryl Richardson, Cristiane Northrup, Gregg Braden, Doreen Virtue, Mona Lisa Schulz, Gay Hendriks—who also wrote and produced the film, and Esther Hicks) share their experiences and thoughts about what people can do to heal their lives.

Like every other Hay House product I’ve ever seen, it’s beautifully done, and visually stunning. If you’re new to Hay’s work, it’s a perfect introduction. If you’re not new to her work, it’s still vastly worth the purchase price, as not only will you get the reminder of her work, but four hours of interviews with the other folks in the movie, and an interactive affirmations tool (there are two versions of the movie—the extended version has the extras, and that's the one I like to, above).

I loved it, and it’s called me to go back through the book and rework the exercises—I haven’t read the book for five years, and it’s time to pull it off the shelf and get busy.

If you’ve seen the movie, and/or read the book, will you please share your experiences in a comment? I’d love to know your thoughts!

And…I’ve noticed that Louise Hay and friends are taking their show on the road (so to speak—no disrespect intended by that remark!), and will be in New York in November. I think I’d like to go—is anyone else interested?

Windfall

This morning, my Note from the Universe said, "The trick with 'thoughts becoming things,' Anastacia, is remembering that they all do."

And that reminded me that I wanted to write about something that happened this past weekend.

D and I were on our way to a lunch that a friend was hosting at a restaurant near D.C. We pulled into the garage, parked the car, D stepped out, looked down, and found $100 in cash.

Very cool, huh?

As I walked around the car to join him in marveling at our good fortune, my head started to focus on the person who lost it. I could only imagine how that level of loss could be problematic for someone. And although I knew there was really no way to get the money back to the person who lost it, I also knew that we needed to do something good with the money (rather than spending it on ourselves). As we walked from the garage, I made a mental note to keep my eyes open on the way to the restaurant, as maybe we'd see someone in need we could give it to. I also noted that if not, I could send it to a charity that D and I would choose together.

In the restaurant, we had a really nice time with our friends. And then the server brought our hostess the check, and it was $95 more than she expected it to be, because the restaurant had charged her for six people who hadn't shown up for lunch (there was, apparently, a 20 person min). Our hostess wasn't happy about this for a variety of reasons, including the fact that she didn't have the extra scratch with her to cover it. People in the group were highly annoyed that the restaurant insisted on charging the fee; the restaurant hadn't even been close to busy while we'd been there, and lost no revenue from the tables we used but were empty. Our friends were all chattering about the unfairness of it, when it came to me.

I smacked D on the arm and said, "This is why you found the $100. Give it to her."

He did, we had enough to cover the bill, and the lunch ended on an up note.

Thoughts do become things.