I'll be honest. I'm in a crap situation right now and have been for awhile. I have been searching obsessively for paid work which actually amounts to a living wage, and on top of that I've been writing and giving and being a decent person when I'm not crying in private, or putting a brave face on my situation in public, or in front of people I know; or worse, being criticized for being unable to get further than an interview.
I *hate* the fakery involved of putting a brave face on it, or being able to take the criticism like a lady, but I've noticed that when I don't do that, a lot of the people I know whom I might feel comfortable displaying any real sort of emotion to, freeze up and get absolutely horrified at the thought that I might actually have feelings, much less that I might actually go and display them.
On the flip side, however, these same people who have had the balls to complain that I lack warmth and emotion when I keep a straight face, in almost everything that has come down the pike in my life. I've stopped trying to figure that one out, and have chalked it up to knowing some people who have some very deep conflicts within themselves that I do not have to, and just plain do not care to explore.
The only person I can do anything with, is myself. and so I have, with at least the effort equal to, if not greater than, the effort I employed towards reaching gainful employment.
Despite positive visualization, forming positive intentions, using the Law of Attraction, et cetera, I am battling exhaustion, frustration, and feelings of doubt, and I dislike very much this experience of being unable to regain traction in my life, although it is my hope that at least I'll be a better person in the end.
I hate this situation. I would like very much, at this point, to have my own home/work space and actually be able to keep that home without any financial help from anyone else.
I have an offer for another place to live, but, it is another roommate situation, located across the country from where I live now. While I really don't want to move to the other side of the country, it does seem to be about the best option for me right now, although I am very much open to other options.
I fought with my mother about it this morning. I think I made her cry when I got short, and downright chilly with her. She worries that I'll be out across the country and get stuck somehow. I countered with a couple of choice comments. I wonder what, exactly, she expects me to do? Snap my fingers and voila there's a house?!
While I have every confidence that I will eventually make it out the other side of this experience of poverty, pain and exhaustion, but the immediate past and current moments feel like one curve ball after another, and that I have nothing but my wits and my bare hands to deal with the balls.
I can write. I can coach like nobody's business, because I've got the piles of life experience, the coaching methods, the contacts, etc. to help people pull off some pretty radical life or business shifts--and believe me, I know *all* about consequences, intended or not.
I'm not an axe-murderer by a long shot, I do have a fairly functional belief system, and I'm perfectly willing to do what it takes to get out of this bad situation, save for taking on yet more very poorly-compensated work that sucks up all my time, energy and joy. Been there, done that, and I dead-set refuse to do it again.
My stumbling block is that I'm quiet, my potty-mouthed alter ego to the contrary. People literally don't hear or even see me much of the time. There were once some advantages to this, but, there have always been painful disadvantages, and I am working my ass off to overcome them, for all the good it has done me lately.
I've set up this blog and went to monetize it. Only to find out AdSense doesn't like it for reasons unknown to me, and with instructions for correction that, even when followed, make not a bit of sense or don't apply to my situation. AdSense is being no help at all, despite repeated polite yet impassioned requests for assistance from one of the AdSense professionals.
If there are better ways that are not scams, I am open to them.
I've got products and classes in mind, to develop and sell, and I am researching the best way of accomplishing this.
I want to do affiliate marketing as well. I'm a reader as well as a writer, and there are a lot of books that I could wholeheartedly endorse without feeling icky about it, along with products that would bring in a fair amount of revenue, too.
I would like, very much, for all of this to result in a safe, secure home/workspace for Lou and myself, and to keep our home/workspace safe and stable going forward--but what I wouldn't give for some help doing the things that I love--writing and teaching--to actually get there.
Until next time..peace.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
A Test of Temper
These past few months have been a test for my temper.
Most people I know or meet would never think that I even have a temper. Or that it can be nasty. Outwardly, I'm usually as mild-mannered as people come. I frequently hear myself described as 'sweet', 'mild-mannered', and the description that makes me (secretly) giggle the most at the irony, 'angelic'.
For I also have the gift/alter ego of an inner temperamental wisecrack-maker, complete with an expanded vocabulary, a brash attitude, and a knack for incredibly raw curse words. When that side of me gets turned loose, I have been known to occasionally shock contractors and make sailors blush.
I used to beat myself up and laughingly dismiss myself for this duality, saying that I was/am no angel; that I was/am only all too human. However, given my understanding and admittedly limited biblical or religious education, I've come to understand that angels, if not Jesus himself, had moments or even extended periods of time, experiencing humanity in its imperfection. I know now, too, that I am not the only one that has felt this way or that has that duality.
I used to beat myself up and laughingly dismiss myself for this duality, saying that I was/am no angel; that I was/am only all too human. However, given my understanding and admittedly limited biblical or religious education, I've come to understand that angels, if not Jesus himself, had moments or even extended periods of time, experiencing humanity in its imperfection. I know now, too, that I am not the only one that has felt this way or that has that duality.
So, it's with an inner disbelief, that I admit that despite having recently faced down repeated rations of crap, having heard loads of self-defeatist beliefs, or heard cries for help that are really a subterfuge for only God knows what else, I've faced it all down, not with the in some cases, richly-deserved battle cry of 'Bullshit!' , but rather with a curious mix of quiet shock and dismay, blended with patience, light, and class.
Lately, I'm really *seeing* more and more people walk around with the withdrawn hunched-shoulders blinders of defeat in their lives firmly attached, and actually believing that is the right and just way of the world. I'm seeing blinders of impossibility just as firmly attached.
I'm seeing more people not only willing to dish out gratuitous acts of blind conversational cruelty, but actively engaging in doing so with bared-teeth relish and razor-sharp skill. I'm seeing more and more people walk around in physical or emotional pain, venting that pain in whatever way they think they can get away with, but at the end of the day, not doing jack to heal that pain.
I'm seeing more people not only willing to dish out gratuitous acts of blind conversational cruelty, but actively engaging in doing so with bared-teeth relish and razor-sharp skill. I'm seeing more and more people walk around in physical or emotional pain, venting that pain in whatever way they think they can get away with, but at the end of the day, not doing jack to heal that pain.
So much pain out there in the world right now. So many patterns of behavior, belief or being just begging to be changed. I find it somewhat akin to being wide awake yet stuck in the vestiges of a bad dream.
I've realized that until there is less pain in the world, that I might do better modulate the mouth and use my power to spread joy, dignity, gentleness and compassion, as well as alternative ways of seeing and experiencing reality. In that way, it is my hope that I can help lessen some of that pain flying about in the world, as opposed to furthering it. Doesn't mean I'm not going to occasionally drop some raw language in doing so when the occasion calls for it, however.
My challenge is this; based on the premise that in order to change the world, one is to be the change that one wants to see. I intend to find and remove my own blinders, where applicable, take a fresh look at how I speak to and treat others, as well as myself; while also taking a good solid look at how others speak to and treat me, and acting accordingly. As a wise teacher once told me, 'it's always a process.'
I wonder if any of my readers will take the same challenge, and what the results will be.
I wonder if any of my readers will take the same challenge, and what the results will be.
Until next time, peace!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
My Time in the Trades
For those of you who never would have guessed it of me, as I don't exactly look the type, I once believed that a career in the trades was the way to economic security, and on top of that, was a way to ensure that I knew how to fix the fershluggin' house when it broke, when the time came that I lived in something other than a crap apartment. Yes, I was a tin-knocker.
For those of you who don't know, a tin-knocker is a sheet metal mechanic, or, in my case, a sheet-metal mechanic apprentice, engaged in the hand-manufacture of heating and air conditioning ductwork. It is a tough job. I learned much from it, and while I don't think of those days much anymore, I treasure those memories..both of the job, and of myself.
At the time this was all going down, it was the late 80's, and I was all of 18 years old, and a tiny little thing to boot. Full of piss, vinegar, and an 'I can fucking *do* this--bring it on!' attitude, however.
Searching through the mental Rolodex cards of memory, what stands out, is that my first day of construction work happened to coincide with the first day of school, for my younger friends. It struck me at the time just how weird it was for me to be going to work on one end of town, while seeing some of my friends going to school on the other end of town.
I remember a moment of regret, mixed with a moment of elation that I wouldn't be spending the day in a boring classroom, and a feeling that somehow, I was finally taking steps towards making it out of the crap apartment complex I called home at the time, and never ever look back.
It struck me as a little weird to be a girl and going to work in construction. It did. That said, I had won the job on my own merits and I was determined at the time upon a goal--that someday, although I didn't know when or how, I would have total economic security.
I am so grateful that my then-employer gave me the chance to do this job. I learned so much.
I'm pretty sure he thinks I didn't pay attention to what he taught me about construction, but I did. I learned about what goes where, and in more or less what configuration. I learned about the tools of the trade, and I learned PDQ that I absolutely detested a tool called the reciprocating saw, while having been set to cut hole after hole after hole in subfloor.
Then, promptly being set to arranging and trimming collars in those holes in the subfloor..and from there, installing and securing the ductwork proper. Some of the tools used in that trade were bigger than I was at the time--I was a tiny thing then, maybe 120 lbs max, and there I was, playing with reciprocating saws, bulldogs, tin snips, etc. It's a miracle I didn't kill myself or anyone else.
My downfall in this job, was something so frigging simple that it's laugh-able in this day and age of the Internet. Gloves. Back then, they just weren't to be had in my size, and there was no amount of padding or bandaids or anything else to make the damn work gloves fit me properly. At least nothing that I knew of at the time.
Alas, despite having a love, an appreciation, and a talent for the work, I had to quit, because my hands resembled hamburger. It was with a heavy heart and much regret that I quit. I cried as I quit. My employer was very understanding. We looked for smaller heavy-duty gloves. They just weren't to be had at the time, and he let me go.
I went on to other things, obviously, but a seed was planted. I love seeing, physically, how buildings go together, especially in the mechanical systems.
What did I learn through all this? I learned about holding my own. I learned that it's OK to pack it in when necessary. I learned about determination and grit.
Not bad qualities for an 18 yr old girl to have, all things considered. :)
..until next time....peace.
For those of you who don't know, a tin-knocker is a sheet metal mechanic, or, in my case, a sheet-metal mechanic apprentice, engaged in the hand-manufacture of heating and air conditioning ductwork. It is a tough job. I learned much from it, and while I don't think of those days much anymore, I treasure those memories..both of the job, and of myself.
At the time this was all going down, it was the late 80's, and I was all of 18 years old, and a tiny little thing to boot. Full of piss, vinegar, and an 'I can fucking *do* this--bring it on!' attitude, however.
Searching through the mental Rolodex cards of memory, what stands out, is that my first day of construction work happened to coincide with the first day of school, for my younger friends. It struck me at the time just how weird it was for me to be going to work on one end of town, while seeing some of my friends going to school on the other end of town.
I remember a moment of regret, mixed with a moment of elation that I wouldn't be spending the day in a boring classroom, and a feeling that somehow, I was finally taking steps towards making it out of the crap apartment complex I called home at the time, and never ever look back.
It struck me as a little weird to be a girl and going to work in construction. It did. That said, I had won the job on my own merits and I was determined at the time upon a goal--that someday, although I didn't know when or how, I would have total economic security.
I am so grateful that my then-employer gave me the chance to do this job. I learned so much.
I'm pretty sure he thinks I didn't pay attention to what he taught me about construction, but I did. I learned about what goes where, and in more or less what configuration. I learned about the tools of the trade, and I learned PDQ that I absolutely detested a tool called the reciprocating saw, while having been set to cut hole after hole after hole in subfloor.
Then, promptly being set to arranging and trimming collars in those holes in the subfloor..and from there, installing and securing the ductwork proper. Some of the tools used in that trade were bigger than I was at the time--I was a tiny thing then, maybe 120 lbs max, and there I was, playing with reciprocating saws, bulldogs, tin snips, etc. It's a miracle I didn't kill myself or anyone else.
My downfall in this job, was something so frigging simple that it's laugh-able in this day and age of the Internet. Gloves. Back then, they just weren't to be had in my size, and there was no amount of padding or bandaids or anything else to make the damn work gloves fit me properly. At least nothing that I knew of at the time.
Alas, despite having a love, an appreciation, and a talent for the work, I had to quit, because my hands resembled hamburger. It was with a heavy heart and much regret that I quit. I cried as I quit. My employer was very understanding. We looked for smaller heavy-duty gloves. They just weren't to be had at the time, and he let me go.
I went on to other things, obviously, but a seed was planted. I love seeing, physically, how buildings go together, especially in the mechanical systems.
What did I learn through all this? I learned about holding my own. I learned that it's OK to pack it in when necessary. I learned about determination and grit.
Not bad qualities for an 18 yr old girl to have, all things considered. :)
..until next time....peace.
Lessons From the Acreage, #5, or, The Bushwhacker Story
OK, picture the scene. I'm on a couple of very overgrown acres in Southern New Hampshire. Overgrown shrubs, plants, herbs, grass..name it, it's running wild.
On this particular evening, I'm out on the screened porch with boyfriend; grilling burgers, drinking something or another, and bemoaning the state of events with the lawn. I'd been out there on the acreage with branch loppers, hedge trimmers, a machete... trying to get the vegetation under control, and the biggest change in the landscape is that I took out the rotten fence after having accidentally backed into it with my truck! Poor showing? Oh yeah.
Obviously, something had to be done about this sad state of affairs; since I didn't know the first thing about what the hell I was doing, I asked boyfriend his opinion, as he knew more about this stuff than I ever would anyway.
Boyfriend, in his wisdom, suggests that we go to the tool rental place down the street, and rent a brush hog. I had never heard of such a thing, so I asked what it was, and he gave me the short explanation that a brush hog was like a weed whacker, only for brush and bushes.
I was perfectly ok with that explanation, and thought to myself, that I would be a 'good girlfriend', go to the tool rental place, pick this thing up, bring it home, and have a high old time whacking on all this crap taking over my lawn. My thought and hope, at that point, was that my boyfriend would be proud of me for taking initiative.
The next day was a scorcher. So, I was doing the whole summer dress and sandals thing when I walked into the tool rental place. To say I was sorely out of place, in a store full of farmers and contractors, was an understatement. When the clerk asked me what I needed, I completely flubbed up the name of the tool, and wound up very confidently asking the clerk for a bushwhacker, completely unaware of the connotation.
How the clerk and everyone else in the place kept from bursting out laughing, I will never know. The clerk, to his credit, patiently shows me what I now know are heavy-duty weed whackers, while I conversationally dig myself in deeper as I innocently exclaim at just how darn big and heavy some bushwhackers are, and that I'd had no idea!
Finally the poor clerk can't stand it anymore, and sends me off to Home Depot, filling me with assurances that Home Depot had a better selection of bushwhackers, that I might find easier to handle. I thought that was strange, but, went with it anyway. What the hell did I know?
Walking into Home Depot and asking that particular clerk for a bushwhacker yielded similar puzzling results. I went home, sans bushwhacker, while wondering just what the hell was wrong with people that didn't understand that I was just trying to do something about my overgrown lawn, dammit.
The next night, boyfriend was back visiting, and I rather apologetically explained to him why I hadn't brought home a bushwhacker. I felt so bad. The look on his face was as equally as puzzling to me as the looks on the faces of the clerks I had tried to buy or rent a bushwhacker from in the first place. Finally I come around to telling him the whole story, and he burst out laughing at me!!
As I recall, the first coherent sentence post-laughter was something to the effect of 'You don't know what a bushwhacker is, do you, honey?'. That was my first clue that I might not have been asking for lawn equipment, after all.
My cheeks blushed hotter than Hell itself, as boyfriend patiently explained to me what a bushwhacker is, and how what I'd really wanted was a _brush hog_, and that it went on the back of a tractor, and that it wasn't something I could have just put in the back of my SUV, but that it was very sweet of me for trying!
It took awhile before I felt secure enough to enter the tool rental place again, never mind the local bar or hardware store. Or, for that matter, that particular Home Depot.
Moral to this story: That yes, I can live down a completely embarrassing incident in a small town. It takes awhile, though.
until next time...peace
On this particular evening, I'm out on the screened porch with boyfriend; grilling burgers, drinking something or another, and bemoaning the state of events with the lawn. I'd been out there on the acreage with branch loppers, hedge trimmers, a machete... trying to get the vegetation under control, and the biggest change in the landscape is that I took out the rotten fence after having accidentally backed into it with my truck! Poor showing? Oh yeah.
Obviously, something had to be done about this sad state of affairs; since I didn't know the first thing about what the hell I was doing, I asked boyfriend his opinion, as he knew more about this stuff than I ever would anyway.
Boyfriend, in his wisdom, suggests that we go to the tool rental place down the street, and rent a brush hog. I had never heard of such a thing, so I asked what it was, and he gave me the short explanation that a brush hog was like a weed whacker, only for brush and bushes.
I was perfectly ok with that explanation, and thought to myself, that I would be a 'good girlfriend', go to the tool rental place, pick this thing up, bring it home, and have a high old time whacking on all this crap taking over my lawn. My thought and hope, at that point, was that my boyfriend would be proud of me for taking initiative.
The next day was a scorcher. So, I was doing the whole summer dress and sandals thing when I walked into the tool rental place. To say I was sorely out of place, in a store full of farmers and contractors, was an understatement. When the clerk asked me what I needed, I completely flubbed up the name of the tool, and wound up very confidently asking the clerk for a bushwhacker, completely unaware of the connotation.
How the clerk and everyone else in the place kept from bursting out laughing, I will never know. The clerk, to his credit, patiently shows me what I now know are heavy-duty weed whackers, while I conversationally dig myself in deeper as I innocently exclaim at just how darn big and heavy some bushwhackers are, and that I'd had no idea!
Finally the poor clerk can't stand it anymore, and sends me off to Home Depot, filling me with assurances that Home Depot had a better selection of bushwhackers, that I might find easier to handle. I thought that was strange, but, went with it anyway. What the hell did I know?
Walking into Home Depot and asking that particular clerk for a bushwhacker yielded similar puzzling results. I went home, sans bushwhacker, while wondering just what the hell was wrong with people that didn't understand that I was just trying to do something about my overgrown lawn, dammit.
The next night, boyfriend was back visiting, and I rather apologetically explained to him why I hadn't brought home a bushwhacker. I felt so bad. The look on his face was as equally as puzzling to me as the looks on the faces of the clerks I had tried to buy or rent a bushwhacker from in the first place. Finally I come around to telling him the whole story, and he burst out laughing at me!!
As I recall, the first coherent sentence post-laughter was something to the effect of 'You don't know what a bushwhacker is, do you, honey?'. That was my first clue that I might not have been asking for lawn equipment, after all.
My cheeks blushed hotter than Hell itself, as boyfriend patiently explained to me what a bushwhacker is, and how what I'd really wanted was a _brush hog_, and that it went on the back of a tractor, and that it wasn't something I could have just put in the back of my SUV, but that it was very sweet of me for trying!
It took awhile before I felt secure enough to enter the tool rental place again, never mind the local bar or hardware store. Or, for that matter, that particular Home Depot.
Moral to this story: That yes, I can live down a completely embarrassing incident in a small town. It takes awhile, though.
until next time...peace
Lessons from the Acreage, #4
I was fully aware of the fact that dogs don't live as long as people, when I got my dog. I knew I would outlive him the day I brought home a squirmy bundle of ten-week-old fur and love. I just preferred to not think about it much, although I knew the day would come when I would lose him.
We had good years, dog and I. Romping, playing, dancing (yes, I taught my dog to dance!), hiking, car rides..all the good things that dog and owner can do.
Fast forward eleven years. Dog has gone from squirmy pup to dignified old dog. Dog is blind, arthritic, has acid reflux, from time to time forgets himself and wanders off, or takes unscheduled tumbles to the floor. The vet says he's just getting old, and the arthritis is impinging the nerves. There isn't much that can be done about that.
Still and all, I was not prepared for the day when I came home from work, to find dog on the floor. He had fallen. There was no getting him up this time, as when I stood him back to rights, he would topple over again. The realization that this was it, was a physically nauseating emotional blow.
I was far enough out in the country at that point, that the closest 24 hour vet that I knew of, was on the other side of the state. So I had to call my regular vet and leave a message; hell yes, I cried on the vet's answering machine.
The vet met me at her office the next day. We were both crying. The vet gave my dog one last quick exam, hoping that I was wrong. I was hoping so too. Alas, I wasn't wrong. Dog wasn't standing on his own ever again.
I don't know if I cried so many tears at one time before or since, either during or during the aftermath of signing the euthanasia papers. I got passed around the vet's waiting room, getting hugs and tissues and reassurances from everyone in the place. Complete strangers. I'm still somewhat startled that they did that for me. Not that I'd turn down anyone that clearly needed a hug, mind you.
The lesson I learned most thoroughly from the experience of having my dog, is to be damn aware that there is more than one side to love, and to be damn sure you can handle all the sides. Everyone wants the wonderful, giddy, happy expectation side to love; very few bargain on the sometimes-bumpy path of love maturing, or on the pain of the loss of that love.
until next time..peace.
We had good years, dog and I. Romping, playing, dancing (yes, I taught my dog to dance!), hiking, car rides..all the good things that dog and owner can do.
Fast forward eleven years. Dog has gone from squirmy pup to dignified old dog. Dog is blind, arthritic, has acid reflux, from time to time forgets himself and wanders off, or takes unscheduled tumbles to the floor. The vet says he's just getting old, and the arthritis is impinging the nerves. There isn't much that can be done about that.
Still and all, I was not prepared for the day when I came home from work, to find dog on the floor. He had fallen. There was no getting him up this time, as when I stood him back to rights, he would topple over again. The realization that this was it, was a physically nauseating emotional blow.
I was far enough out in the country at that point, that the closest 24 hour vet that I knew of, was on the other side of the state. So I had to call my regular vet and leave a message; hell yes, I cried on the vet's answering machine.
The vet met me at her office the next day. We were both crying. The vet gave my dog one last quick exam, hoping that I was wrong. I was hoping so too. Alas, I wasn't wrong. Dog wasn't standing on his own ever again.
I don't know if I cried so many tears at one time before or since, either during or during the aftermath of signing the euthanasia papers. I got passed around the vet's waiting room, getting hugs and tissues and reassurances from everyone in the place. Complete strangers. I'm still somewhat startled that they did that for me. Not that I'd turn down anyone that clearly needed a hug, mind you.
The lesson I learned most thoroughly from the experience of having my dog, is to be damn aware that there is more than one side to love, and to be damn sure you can handle all the sides. Everyone wants the wonderful, giddy, happy expectation side to love; very few bargain on the sometimes-bumpy path of love maturing, or on the pain of the loss of that love.
until next time..peace.
The Power of "I Quit".
It's a snowy early morning here, and I'm still recovering from my week thus far, which, being honest, has turned into the kind of week I wouldn't wish on anyone. It has been so hard and painful to live this week.
When faced with the truth of the people and situations in your life, I've learned that one can only do one of two things; keep making the same mistakes, and see the same thing happen again, or quit the relationship and situation, adjust your beliefs, and make better choices going forward.
Last night, in the midst of tears, I elected to quit and move on.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Lessons From the Acreage, #3
I'm currently sitting at my table during this dreary afternoon, waiting for more snow to fall upon New Hampshire, and I am reminded of a day much like this one.
This event occurred a few years ago, back when I owned acreage, and drove a rural school bus for a living. The days behind the wheel of the bus were long, more than occasionally interesting, and by the time I got home, I was frequently frazzled. Such is the state I found myself in when...
One afternoon, I came home, driving the school bus, and I could see from the driveway through my living room window, that there was an awful lot more movement than what I would usually see from cat and dog welcoming me back home. Something was up.
Not being sure what to think, I cautiously entered the house, and what do I see but that cat and dog have treed a squirrel on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, and naturally, the little SOB was high up. I was tired, frazzled, and not very much not amused, but, there was nothing else to do in that moment besides getting the critter out of my house.
Not wanting to appear to be a total girl, and call guy friends weeping about there being a wild animal in the living room, and would one please be big and brave and wonderful and come take care of it, I realized there was only one way to go. I left cat and dog to keep the quarry treed in the bookcase, marched to the pantry, and got the broom.
With little more than an attitude, and a determination that this creature wasn't staying, I marched back out to the living room with the aforementioned broom, and commenced offensive maneuvers. By that, I mean I clocked the little bastard with the broom, and knocked him to the floor, much to the delight of cat and dog. Pandemonium ensued, and I finally had to come down a little harder than I meant to with the broom, stunning the creature to keep it in check, and to keep cat and dog from eating it right there on the spot.
While keeping the squirrel covered with the broom bristles, I swept him through the living room, through the kitchen, through the pantry, and finally, out the pantry door. Once out the pantry door, however, the squirrel apparently had gotten a second wind, and had decided it was going to get back *into* the house, by way of attaching itself to the broom handle, and trying to climb up the broom handle towards me! This was not what I had bargained for, nor was it going to be allowed to happen.
Looking back, if I'd had any sense left at all after my day on the bus, I'd have let go of the broom, backed up a step, shut the door, gone back into the house and had done with the whole thing. Instead I got pissed and wasn't letting go of anything.
With a surge of adrenaline, regrouping of attitude and a plethora of dirty words uttered at top volume, I jumped off of the pantry stairs into the knee-deep snow, and proceeded to swing the broom against the corner of the house. and again. and again. While dog and cat were both trying to come outside to watch the show!
So, to recap, at this point I've just driven into my driveway in a school bus built for special needs children, only to promptly come out the back door, jump into knee-deep snow with a broom in my hands, and commence to swinging the broom against the side of my house, swearing at the top of my lungs, while also yelling at cat and dog to keep their butts in the house.
I was, at that moment, unaware that brand-new neighbors had just moved in next door. That non-awareness did not last long, for as soon as I made one last *thwack* against the house, the squirrel went sailing off of the broom and across the back yard, and I gave the dog permission to come outside and do his business, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched.
I turned around, and there are my brand-new neighbors, having a wonderful laugh at my antics.
There was nothing else to do at that point but blush, attempt to recover what dignity I had left, wave and slink back into my house in total embarrassment.
The moral to this story: You never know who might be watching. Conduct yourself accordingly.
Also: Mothballs in the attic are a good squirrel repellent.
This event occurred a few years ago, back when I owned acreage, and drove a rural school bus for a living. The days behind the wheel of the bus were long, more than occasionally interesting, and by the time I got home, I was frequently frazzled. Such is the state I found myself in when...
One afternoon, I came home, driving the school bus, and I could see from the driveway through my living room window, that there was an awful lot more movement than what I would usually see from cat and dog welcoming me back home. Something was up.
Not being sure what to think, I cautiously entered the house, and what do I see but that cat and dog have treed a squirrel on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, and naturally, the little SOB was high up. I was tired, frazzled, and not very much not amused, but, there was nothing else to do in that moment besides getting the critter out of my house.
Not wanting to appear to be a total girl, and call guy friends weeping about there being a wild animal in the living room, and would one please be big and brave and wonderful and come take care of it, I realized there was only one way to go. I left cat and dog to keep the quarry treed in the bookcase, marched to the pantry, and got the broom.
With little more than an attitude, and a determination that this creature wasn't staying, I marched back out to the living room with the aforementioned broom, and commenced offensive maneuvers. By that, I mean I clocked the little bastard with the broom, and knocked him to the floor, much to the delight of cat and dog. Pandemonium ensued, and I finally had to come down a little harder than I meant to with the broom, stunning the creature to keep it in check, and to keep cat and dog from eating it right there on the spot.
While keeping the squirrel covered with the broom bristles, I swept him through the living room, through the kitchen, through the pantry, and finally, out the pantry door. Once out the pantry door, however, the squirrel apparently had gotten a second wind, and had decided it was going to get back *into* the house, by way of attaching itself to the broom handle, and trying to climb up the broom handle towards me! This was not what I had bargained for, nor was it going to be allowed to happen.
Looking back, if I'd had any sense left at all after my day on the bus, I'd have let go of the broom, backed up a step, shut the door, gone back into the house and had done with the whole thing. Instead I got pissed and wasn't letting go of anything.
With a surge of adrenaline, regrouping of attitude and a plethora of dirty words uttered at top volume, I jumped off of the pantry stairs into the knee-deep snow, and proceeded to swing the broom against the corner of the house. and again. and again. While dog and cat were both trying to come outside to watch the show!
So, to recap, at this point I've just driven into my driveway in a school bus built for special needs children, only to promptly come out the back door, jump into knee-deep snow with a broom in my hands, and commence to swinging the broom against the side of my house, swearing at the top of my lungs, while also yelling at cat and dog to keep their butts in the house.
I was, at that moment, unaware that brand-new neighbors had just moved in next door. That non-awareness did not last long, for as soon as I made one last *thwack* against the house, the squirrel went sailing off of the broom and across the back yard, and I gave the dog permission to come outside and do his business, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched.
I turned around, and there are my brand-new neighbors, having a wonderful laugh at my antics.
There was nothing else to do at that point but blush, attempt to recover what dignity I had left, wave and slink back into my house in total embarrassment.
The moral to this story: You never know who might be watching. Conduct yourself accordingly.
Also: Mothballs in the attic are a good squirrel repellent.
How to Break the Cycle of Being Overwhelmed
I admit it. I had a not-so-great start this morning. I was awakened far too early this morning, by 3 cats engaged in their individual versions of being Growly McGrouchypants. The scene was thisclose to an all out war occurring at the end of the hall.
I did not know in that moment, exactly what the issue was, and given the hour and my level of wakefulness, did not care. I do not allow fighting between the pets, end of story. So, I got my ass up and got the cats separated.
At that point, I was a little more awake, and with a groan, I realized also, that my roommate's dog was pitching a fit. When the cats and the dog are in agreement at being upset, I know there is a problem that must be addressed.
With a sigh, I went and put on some clothes, and headed downstairs to see what was what.
Turns out all this distress, was over the water dish being empty, and that this whole issue could have been solved if my cat had come and given me the cold nose treatment.
After the pets got a drink and calmed down, I made tea as I got to reflecting about cycles of distress and overwhelm in both business and personal relationships and how to easily break them.
Once upon a time, I would get into cycles of distress and overwhelm easily, and would bitch, moan and cry about having to do everything, and not getting _any_ help, even when it was asked for. This was before I knew that all overwhelm was, was simply a case of me giving too much of myself, or too much of my power, to either people, things, or situations that really didn't deserve the energy; this was also before I realized that assistance could come in ways I didn't bargain on, if I were patient, observant, and held an attitude of gratitude for what assistance I did get, in whatever form it came, and it was also before I really got the hang of effective communication.
To get out of feelings of overwhelm, the first thing that I had to make happen was a determination that I was getting out of the feelings of overwhelm, no ifs ands or buts about it, and that it was perfectly all right at this point to not know exactly how I was getting out of the Land of Overwhelm; the important part was that the goal has been set.
I learned, perhaps the hard way, that thinking to myself, 'if I could just get (whatever creates feelings of overwhelm) accomplished, then I would not feel overwhelmed.', is the pansy approach to take to getting free of overwhelm, and it's just not going to cut it over the long haul when one is frequently overwhelmed. Making the goal, stating, 'I am going to get free of the feeling of being overwhelmed' is the way to go.
The next step, was for me to sit down and make a physical list of the things that left me feeling overwhelmed. I then thought about each thing, circumstance, what-have-you, and decided whether or not it is anything I could cheerfully fix, or if whatever it is, is better off being blown off entirely, delegated to another party, or hired out to a professional for whatever reason.
The step after that, was to actually do these things. Make the fixes, make the changes, call the helpers, do the delegations, then sit back and see what happened both within myself, my circumstances and relationships.
I knew that once the overwhelm was released, it was important for me to not promptly get back into that state of overwhelm again, so, it was time to sit down with pen & paper, and take stock again, and ask myself, what situations or dealings with people brought about the state of overwhelm? What needs to change within those situations, or within those relationships, to prevent overwhelm from occurring again? How could this be accomplished so that it could be a win-win situation? If there is no win-win possible, what outcome could be most beneficial, and how can that be made to come about? That and more are the questions I asked myself after having cleared a feeling of overwhelm.
Until next time..peace.
I did not know in that moment, exactly what the issue was, and given the hour and my level of wakefulness, did not care. I do not allow fighting between the pets, end of story. So, I got my ass up and got the cats separated.
At that point, I was a little more awake, and with a groan, I realized also, that my roommate's dog was pitching a fit. When the cats and the dog are in agreement at being upset, I know there is a problem that must be addressed.
With a sigh, I went and put on some clothes, and headed downstairs to see what was what.
Turns out all this distress, was over the water dish being empty, and that this whole issue could have been solved if my cat had come and given me the cold nose treatment.
After the pets got a drink and calmed down, I made tea as I got to reflecting about cycles of distress and overwhelm in both business and personal relationships and how to easily break them.
Once upon a time, I would get into cycles of distress and overwhelm easily, and would bitch, moan and cry about having to do everything, and not getting _any_ help, even when it was asked for. This was before I knew that all overwhelm was, was simply a case of me giving too much of myself, or too much of my power, to either people, things, or situations that really didn't deserve the energy; this was also before I realized that assistance could come in ways I didn't bargain on, if I were patient, observant, and held an attitude of gratitude for what assistance I did get, in whatever form it came, and it was also before I really got the hang of effective communication.
To get out of feelings of overwhelm, the first thing that I had to make happen was a determination that I was getting out of the feelings of overwhelm, no ifs ands or buts about it, and that it was perfectly all right at this point to not know exactly how I was getting out of the Land of Overwhelm; the important part was that the goal has been set.
I learned, perhaps the hard way, that thinking to myself, 'if I could just get (whatever creates feelings of overwhelm) accomplished, then I would not feel overwhelmed.', is the pansy approach to take to getting free of overwhelm, and it's just not going to cut it over the long haul when one is frequently overwhelmed. Making the goal, stating, 'I am going to get free of the feeling of being overwhelmed' is the way to go.
The next step, was for me to sit down and make a physical list of the things that left me feeling overwhelmed. I then thought about each thing, circumstance, what-have-you, and decided whether or not it is anything I could cheerfully fix, or if whatever it is, is better off being blown off entirely, delegated to another party, or hired out to a professional for whatever reason.
The step after that, was to actually do these things. Make the fixes, make the changes, call the helpers, do the delegations, then sit back and see what happened both within myself, my circumstances and relationships.
I knew that once the overwhelm was released, it was important for me to not promptly get back into that state of overwhelm again, so, it was time to sit down with pen & paper, and take stock again, and ask myself, what situations or dealings with people brought about the state of overwhelm? What needs to change within those situations, or within those relationships, to prevent overwhelm from occurring again? How could this be accomplished so that it could be a win-win situation? If there is no win-win possible, what outcome could be most beneficial, and how can that be made to come about? That and more are the questions I asked myself after having cleared a feeling of overwhelm.
Until next time..peace.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Four Tips for a Better Relationship
It happens. Sometimes a stressful event, busy-ness at work, issues with children or in-laws, etc., throws off the relationship with the person one loves. Here are simple ways to get the 'spark' back--or really get it lit in the first place!
Sometimes we all get a little overwhelmed, and that feeling can have some nasty side-effects. If the 'overwhelmed' feelings are taken out of the equation in either a beginning or established relationship, it can prevent problems from developing, or at least prevent present problems from getting worse.
Give each other a respite from drudgery, or overwhelming responsibility. For example, in a beginning relationship with, say, a single mom, a simple act of loving service, such as getting the oil in her car changed, would be welcomed.
In a more established relationship, you undoubtedly know what stresses your partner. Step in and take care of whatever it is. I'm sure your partner will thank you, or perhaps return the favor.
A little variety never hurt. Don't do the same old thing, all the time. Mix it up a little! Do an activity you've never done before. Try a different cuisine. It doesn't have to be expensive. Use your imagination.
Clear, decisive, honest communication. I know I would much rather hear a direct, 'I can/will do x, and this is when I'll do it.' (and it actually gets done!) or 'I cannot do _x_, but I can do _y_.' vs. 'You know I love you, but I don't know if I can do x. Let me get back to you.'
The first set of statements reduce stress, because they are clearly communicated and the person actually does them. The second set of statements is a deliberate stall tactic, leaving the person asking for assistance hanging, and I don't know of anyone who likes that.
Until next time..peace!
Sometimes we all get a little overwhelmed, and that feeling can have some nasty side-effects. If the 'overwhelmed' feelings are taken out of the equation in either a beginning or established relationship, it can prevent problems from developing, or at least prevent present problems from getting worse.
Give each other a respite from drudgery, or overwhelming responsibility. For example, in a beginning relationship with, say, a single mom, a simple act of loving service, such as getting the oil in her car changed, would be welcomed.
In a more established relationship, you undoubtedly know what stresses your partner. Step in and take care of whatever it is. I'm sure your partner will thank you, or perhaps return the favor.
A little variety never hurt. Don't do the same old thing, all the time. Mix it up a little! Do an activity you've never done before. Try a different cuisine. It doesn't have to be expensive. Use your imagination.
Clear, decisive, honest communication. I know I would much rather hear a direct, 'I can/will do x, and this is when I'll do it.' (and it actually gets done!) or 'I cannot do _x_, but I can do _y_.' vs. 'You know I love you, but I don't know if I can do x. Let me get back to you.'
The first set of statements reduce stress, because they are clearly communicated and the person actually does them. The second set of statements is a deliberate stall tactic, leaving the person asking for assistance hanging, and I don't know of anyone who likes that.
Until next time..peace!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Is 'Owning Stuff' Really the Right Thing To Do?
I've been involved in personal development, massage, Reiki and alternative healing for close to fifteen years.
Something that has been said at one time or another, by most of the folks whose work I have studied, has been something to the effect of 'own your own stuff'. Furthermore, I've heard this business of 'owning your own stuff' being touted as being a great thing to do; I suppose it is, *if* you aren't the person with an issue that you're trying to clear.
At one point in my life, I had a massage therapist who told me, quite frequently and emphatically, that I had to 'own my stuff' and that 'it was clear that you have issues that are your own fault that you need to clear' while she was working on my neck. At the time, I was too busy saying really rude things that amounted to "ow!', to take a deep breath, and use it to tell her to take a look at her phrasing and intent vs. results.
As a client, I found it both nonsensical and un-helpful, to be repeatedly informed that my issue was my own fault and I had to _own_ the issue that I was paying her to help me _heal and clear_.
After experiencing more than one of these therapists, I wound up in massage therapy and hypnotherapy school, and wound up becoming a Reiki Master/Healer/Teacher myself. Having done the work to make the transition from a patient/client to a healing facilitator in my own right, I feel the phrase 'own your own stuff' is both an unhelpful one to be bandied about during a client's process, as well as to the success of a therapist/facilitator. Also, I think that the phrase is a likely accidental mis-use of either language, intent, or both on the part of a therapist/facilitator/educator.
_Ownership_ of a thing, or an issue, implies that whatever the thing/issue is, it is going to, and is welcome to stick around as a fixture, and that this fixture is welcome and will be maintained, as welcoming and maintaining a thing is what one does when one owns something.
From an admittedly new-age-y therapeutic standpoint, when an issue becomes an attachment, or entrenched, as would be implied in the case of ownership of it, I feel issue ownership/entrenchment /attachment makes any given issue that much more of a challenge in terms of time, cost, talent and effort for the therapist/client team to clear/heal.
I can see some therapists saying that if one 'owns' an issue, then one could easily elect to give the issue away, etc. I don't deny this, as it is certainly a valid enough approach, but, when one owns something and elects to give it away, there is still the 'charge' of having owned an item/issue in the first place, which can be somewhat challenging to clear in some clients.
I think that a better way of phrasing 'own your own stuff' is to say, instead, "own up to having stuff". Owning up to stuff, has more of an admission-style connotation, without that whole ownership connotation attached to it. Why can't an issue just be present, without being owned, before it can be healed or cleared? I see no reason for this to not be the case.
Healing and clearing issues is what we as therapists are here to facilitate, and we all know that this process can go easily, or it can go hard. Why would we as therapists/facilitators elect to make a clients process more difficult than it needed to be? Why would a facilitator/therapist use terms, phrases or techniques that unwittingly leave a client hurting more, physically, mentally or emotionally?
Until next time..peace.
Something that has been said at one time or another, by most of the folks whose work I have studied, has been something to the effect of 'own your own stuff'. Furthermore, I've heard this business of 'owning your own stuff' being touted as being a great thing to do; I suppose it is, *if* you aren't the person with an issue that you're trying to clear.
At one point in my life, I had a massage therapist who told me, quite frequently and emphatically, that I had to 'own my stuff' and that 'it was clear that you have issues that are your own fault that you need to clear' while she was working on my neck. At the time, I was too busy saying really rude things that amounted to "ow!', to take a deep breath, and use it to tell her to take a look at her phrasing and intent vs. results.
As a client, I found it both nonsensical and un-helpful, to be repeatedly informed that my issue was my own fault and I had to _own_ the issue that I was paying her to help me _heal and clear_.
After experiencing more than one of these therapists, I wound up in massage therapy and hypnotherapy school, and wound up becoming a Reiki Master/Healer/Teacher myself. Having done the work to make the transition from a patient/client to a healing facilitator in my own right, I feel the phrase 'own your own stuff' is both an unhelpful one to be bandied about during a client's process, as well as to the success of a therapist/facilitator. Also, I think that the phrase is a likely accidental mis-use of either language, intent, or both on the part of a therapist/facilitator/educator.
_Ownership_ of a thing, or an issue, implies that whatever the thing/issue is, it is going to, and is welcome to stick around as a fixture, and that this fixture is welcome and will be maintained, as welcoming and maintaining a thing is what one does when one owns something.
From an admittedly new-age-y therapeutic standpoint, when an issue becomes an attachment, or entrenched, as would be implied in the case of ownership of it, I feel issue ownership/entrenchment /attachment makes any given issue that much more of a challenge in terms of time, cost, talent and effort for the therapist/client team to clear/heal.
I can see some therapists saying that if one 'owns' an issue, then one could easily elect to give the issue away, etc. I don't deny this, as it is certainly a valid enough approach, but, when one owns something and elects to give it away, there is still the 'charge' of having owned an item/issue in the first place, which can be somewhat challenging to clear in some clients.
I think that a better way of phrasing 'own your own stuff' is to say, instead, "own up to having stuff". Owning up to stuff, has more of an admission-style connotation, without that whole ownership connotation attached to it. Why can't an issue just be present, without being owned, before it can be healed or cleared? I see no reason for this to not be the case.
Healing and clearing issues is what we as therapists are here to facilitate, and we all know that this process can go easily, or it can go hard. Why would we as therapists/facilitators elect to make a clients process more difficult than it needed to be? Why would a facilitator/therapist use terms, phrases or techniques that unwittingly leave a client hurting more, physically, mentally or emotionally?
Until next time..peace.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Resistance Is Occasionally Useful
I'm late to my writing practice today, in part because I had a tough night sleeping, and as a result, my physical body is in knots, and also in part because I have so many thoughts and feelings swirling through me, concerning where I've been, where I am, and where I want to be.
I could not make up my mind this morning about what I wanted to write about, which is physically manifesting as more swirling thoughts and tighter knots. ow. I find it frustrating, and painful, when that happens, because I much prefer clearer paths in my thoughts. I also prefer to have gotten some real sleep, and to not be all physically knotted up.
Then it hit me. The swirling thoughts and what lay inside the knots themselves were what I needed to write out/write about. Maybe. I have a huge amount of resistance to discussing them right now, and I realize that I was resisting my resistance. I really don't want to discuss or re-experience the pain I'm in right now, or have been in before; this is a blog, not the confessional. Wonderful that I can see all that; not so hot to experience.
Even after all this time of working on my stuff about fears, knots and swirling thoughts, and knowing that I have editing ability and the ability to question/reason, I am still scared of making a mistake.
I know that mistakes are how we learn and grow, and that many of them are just not that bad in the scheme of things, and won't matter 10 minutes, 10 months or 10 years from now. The concept of mistakes is scary for me, all the same.
From there, I thought that forgetting about the resistance, and instead giving myself permission to have my fears, would be far more compassionate, and make my life easier. Only to discover that I don't need permission from myself to have the fears. I just do have the fears for right now, and I accept that. I don't have to own the fears, however, as I know that I wouldn't be heartbroken if they left.
Experiencing instead, more self-compassion, and gently stopping beating myself up for mistakes I've already made, would feel pretty good.
I do need to perhaps give myself permission, as opposed to an order, to stop anticipating that I'll screw up again despite having good intentions, qualities and skills up the wazoo and beat myself up for screwing up in advance, hard enough that I either just..stop, quit entirely, or start getting depressed and work even harder to overcome whatever my imagined deficiency is. Damn it all, despite me trying very hard and perhaps even ordering myself to get over it, I still have Type-A, perfectionist tendencies, which are, in my experience, the cruelest of all task-mistresses.
This, I know now, are some of my biggest stumbling blocks in life. Crappy self-talk and perfectionistic tendencies. For example, I know I am beyond the shadow of a doubt, good enough to have good things in my life, yet, in the past, I've repeatedly wound up dealing with all the shit stuff where I remain unseen, unappreciated and very under-compensated for the value I add to whatever thing or another. Yet I just accepted it as my lot in life, even though I railed (uselessly) against it. Which led to me Doing My Thing, which involves a whole lot less wading around in proverbial crap and the potential of exponentially greater reward.
Then, I knew I was on to why the thoughts were swirling and the sleep wasn't happening. I was just flushing stuff that didn't work for me anymore, and making space for stuff that *does* work for me here in the present time, and maybe, even going forward.
So, I ask this today. Where can I be gentler with myself? Where and how can I better honor myself?
Until next time...peace.
I could not make up my mind this morning about what I wanted to write about, which is physically manifesting as more swirling thoughts and tighter knots. ow. I find it frustrating, and painful, when that happens, because I much prefer clearer paths in my thoughts. I also prefer to have gotten some real sleep, and to not be all physically knotted up.
Then it hit me. The swirling thoughts and what lay inside the knots themselves were what I needed to write out/write about. Maybe. I have a huge amount of resistance to discussing them right now, and I realize that I was resisting my resistance. I really don't want to discuss or re-experience the pain I'm in right now, or have been in before; this is a blog, not the confessional. Wonderful that I can see all that; not so hot to experience.
Even after all this time of working on my stuff about fears, knots and swirling thoughts, and knowing that I have editing ability and the ability to question/reason, I am still scared of making a mistake.
I know that mistakes are how we learn and grow, and that many of them are just not that bad in the scheme of things, and won't matter 10 minutes, 10 months or 10 years from now. The concept of mistakes is scary for me, all the same.
From there, I thought that forgetting about the resistance, and instead giving myself permission to have my fears, would be far more compassionate, and make my life easier. Only to discover that I don't need permission from myself to have the fears. I just do have the fears for right now, and I accept that. I don't have to own the fears, however, as I know that I wouldn't be heartbroken if they left.
Experiencing instead, more self-compassion, and gently stopping beating myself up for mistakes I've already made, would feel pretty good.
I do need to perhaps give myself permission, as opposed to an order, to stop anticipating that I'll screw up again despite having good intentions, qualities and skills up the wazoo and beat myself up for screwing up in advance, hard enough that I either just..stop, quit entirely, or start getting depressed and work even harder to overcome whatever my imagined deficiency is. Damn it all, despite me trying very hard and perhaps even ordering myself to get over it, I still have Type-A, perfectionist tendencies, which are, in my experience, the cruelest of all task-mistresses.
This, I know now, are some of my biggest stumbling blocks in life. Crappy self-talk and perfectionistic tendencies. For example, I know I am beyond the shadow of a doubt, good enough to have good things in my life, yet, in the past, I've repeatedly wound up dealing with all the shit stuff where I remain unseen, unappreciated and very under-compensated for the value I add to whatever thing or another. Yet I just accepted it as my lot in life, even though I railed (uselessly) against it. Which led to me Doing My Thing, which involves a whole lot less wading around in proverbial crap and the potential of exponentially greater reward.
Then, I knew I was on to why the thoughts were swirling and the sleep wasn't happening. I was just flushing stuff that didn't work for me anymore, and making space for stuff that *does* work for me here in the present time, and maybe, even going forward.
So, I ask this today. Where can I be gentler with myself? Where and how can I better honor myself?
Until next time...peace.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I Can't Quite Believe I Just Did This
Today, after writing, I realized that the laundry I had in the dryer, had failed to dry and had made ungodly noises in its failure.
I was so aggravated that I grabbed my Leatherman tool (love them, am a fan..not connected to them except as a loyal customer, blah blah blah), and dismantled the dryer.
Fortunately, there really weren't that many parts that weren't..unitized? Not sure of the technical term, but, the parts were really very distinct, one from another, despite the arrangement of said parts that had the guts of this dryer looking like a basket case British car restoration project.
Anyway, I found the reset button for the heat part of the dryer, straightaway. Pressed it. Voila I had heat. Yahoo.
Next, I took on the noise issue. Working on a dryer with most of its parts in situ is a pain in the ass. I say this in all honestly because I just did it.
I don't know how the manufacturer suggests the internal parts to their dryers be lubricated, but, I have to admit..I had pretty good luck with dimethicone drizzled down the back of a butter knife.
Only then did I put the dryer back together. Took me 5 minutes--with no leftover parts!
..and I have dry clothes and an almost squeak free dryer.
Am I good or what?
Until next time..peace!! :)
I was so aggravated that I grabbed my Leatherman tool (love them, am a fan..not connected to them except as a loyal customer, blah blah blah), and dismantled the dryer.
Fortunately, there really weren't that many parts that weren't..unitized? Not sure of the technical term, but, the parts were really very distinct, one from another, despite the arrangement of said parts that had the guts of this dryer looking like a basket case British car restoration project.
Anyway, I found the reset button for the heat part of the dryer, straightaway. Pressed it. Voila I had heat. Yahoo.
Next, I took on the noise issue. Working on a dryer with most of its parts in situ is a pain in the ass. I say this in all honestly because I just did it.
I don't know how the manufacturer suggests the internal parts to their dryers be lubricated, but, I have to admit..I had pretty good luck with dimethicone drizzled down the back of a butter knife.
Only then did I put the dryer back together. Took me 5 minutes--with no leftover parts!
..and I have dry clothes and an almost squeak free dryer.
Am I good or what?
Until next time..peace!! :)
What Success in Life, Child Rearing, and Pet Training Have in Common
I was having my coffee this morning and watching the pets here interact, as I frequently do, and I got to thinking that there were only three parallels between all the fields I've worked in, and life itself.
I could go on, and put more words into this than it needs, but I'm not in the mood to do that today.
Keeping it simple; success in life, child rearing, and pet training, all come down to three things. Decide on what you want. Focus on the behavior and results that you want. Do not focus on what you don't want.
I'll use the cats that live here, as an example. My cat (Lou, my vice pawsident), and Bullet, one of the cats belonging to my roommates, used to not get along very well at all. They would hiss, spit, growl, swat and generally carry on at the sight of one another.
This is not behavior I wanted to see, and it isn't behavior that I will tolerate, and Lou, bless him, knew and understood that. I hadn't hand-raised Bullet (cream & white) the way I had Lou (gray & white), so he had a completely different set of boundaries that he operated from.
So, as a former obedience instructor, I broke out the kitty treats and I waited to catch them *not* behaving badly towards each other. When they were being good and not beating on each other, I administered treats and praise. I wish I could say that there was an instant understanding and good behavior commenced forthwith. Alas, if I did, I'd be lying. This 'catching the cats being good' and offering treats and praise for not beating each other up, has been a process. The above is about how close they can get to each other, nowadays. They still do have the occasional wrestling match, or the occasional match of bravado, but, that's about it.
Similar methods work with children, and, for that matter, adults. Only I would suggest a treat/action that's a bit different than what I'd use on the cats. :)
How can you apply this to your own life, and your interactions with other beings?
Until next time..peace.
I could go on, and put more words into this than it needs, but I'm not in the mood to do that today.
Keeping it simple; success in life, child rearing, and pet training, all come down to three things. Decide on what you want. Focus on the behavior and results that you want. Do not focus on what you don't want.
I'll use the cats that live here, as an example. My cat (Lou, my vice pawsident), and Bullet, one of the cats belonging to my roommates, used to not get along very well at all. They would hiss, spit, growl, swat and generally carry on at the sight of one another.
So, as a former obedience instructor, I broke out the kitty treats and I waited to catch them *not* behaving badly towards each other. When they were being good and not beating on each other, I administered treats and praise. I wish I could say that there was an instant understanding and good behavior commenced forthwith. Alas, if I did, I'd be lying. This 'catching the cats being good' and offering treats and praise for not beating each other up, has been a process. The above is about how close they can get to each other, nowadays. They still do have the occasional wrestling match, or the occasional match of bravado, but, that's about it.
Similar methods work with children, and, for that matter, adults. Only I would suggest a treat/action that's a bit different than what I'd use on the cats. :)
How can you apply this to your own life, and your interactions with other beings?
Until next time..peace.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Moving Boxes Around
Shortly after I wrote the post previous to this one, I found myself driving home, musing about shamanic techniques, and also thinking about how all dysfunctions have a functional part to them--it just isn't always very apparent.
For example, I have a health issue that is both genetic and not very common. I have explained it to more than one family member who has it as well (and just didn't know what it was, much less how to deal with it), not to mention, various and sundry health care practitioners.
How I used to wish that I didn't have this issue in my life! How I resisted this issue! How I struggled to understand it, honor it, and work with it. How, in frustration, anger and pain, I demanded of the Universe to make the issue just go away, because I'd had entirely enough of alternately suffering and enduring forced co-operation with it. At that point in my life, I couldn't see any benefit to continuing to deal with the issue at all, never mind see or experience gratitude for any functional part of it!
Once upon a time I would have been absolutely mortified to admit just how much time and effort, not to mention money, I have spent in intentional commitment to get this medical issue under control, either in the generally accepted fashion of what medical science understands about the disease, exploring alternative medicine techniques to deal with it, or, to energetically heal the issue and release it, only to come up against a wall of failure to the tune of three for three. So I quit struggling with it, and made my peace with it. Mostly.
In the flash of insight that hit me in the car last night, I suddenly understood exactly why I wasn't able to beat the health issue and wound up accepting it instead. I didn't understand, at the time, how it served me in a completely functional fashion! Now, I do, and I am not fully certain what would have happened, under the theory of unintended consequences, if I had let go of/healed the issue, and so, despite my past intention to box it up and send it back to the Universe, the issue is something that remains as an un-boxed part of me, and I have, at this point, completely accepted both it, and it's influence.
In due course, I arrived home, and walked into the house to discover that my roommates had decided to rearrange part of the house, including some of the smaller boxes. I started to feel somewhat triggered, as though I had done something wrong, that people were mad at me because I hadn't thought of this rearrangement myself and did it, and was somehow wrong on several levels over it.
Although I instantly realized something was wrong with _that_ picture, I started babbling as an automatic response. Defending what I'd been doing for the last week, and while I was babbling, I got so much insight into why I still sometimes react badly to change, still deal with stuff that isn't mine, and accepted all manner of chaos and dysfunction into my life, because, for a change, I really _heard_ what I was saying..and from there, a whole bunch of energetically boxed-up stuff I'd just moved around for years, was peacefully sent back to the Universe. I'm not sure I want to ask my roommate what she was thinking as I was babbling on, however! At least I can laugh at myself as I'm writing this post.
What boxed-up things in your life, are still causing you issues? Are you sure they're boxed up and ready to be sent away, or are there still things you are using these issues for that is functional, although you may not realize it yet? What do you wish you could box up and send away, fully and consciously? What do you need to learn to accept and live with?
Until next time...peace.
For example, I have a health issue that is both genetic and not very common. I have explained it to more than one family member who has it as well (and just didn't know what it was, much less how to deal with it), not to mention, various and sundry health care practitioners.
How I used to wish that I didn't have this issue in my life! How I resisted this issue! How I struggled to understand it, honor it, and work with it. How, in frustration, anger and pain, I demanded of the Universe to make the issue just go away, because I'd had entirely enough of alternately suffering and enduring forced co-operation with it. At that point in my life, I couldn't see any benefit to continuing to deal with the issue at all, never mind see or experience gratitude for any functional part of it!
Once upon a time I would have been absolutely mortified to admit just how much time and effort, not to mention money, I have spent in intentional commitment to get this medical issue under control, either in the generally accepted fashion of what medical science understands about the disease, exploring alternative medicine techniques to deal with it, or, to energetically heal the issue and release it, only to come up against a wall of failure to the tune of three for three. So I quit struggling with it, and made my peace with it. Mostly.
In the flash of insight that hit me in the car last night, I suddenly understood exactly why I wasn't able to beat the health issue and wound up accepting it instead. I didn't understand, at the time, how it served me in a completely functional fashion! Now, I do, and I am not fully certain what would have happened, under the theory of unintended consequences, if I had let go of/healed the issue, and so, despite my past intention to box it up and send it back to the Universe, the issue is something that remains as an un-boxed part of me, and I have, at this point, completely accepted both it, and it's influence.
In due course, I arrived home, and walked into the house to discover that my roommates had decided to rearrange part of the house, including some of the smaller boxes. I started to feel somewhat triggered, as though I had done something wrong, that people were mad at me because I hadn't thought of this rearrangement myself and did it, and was somehow wrong on several levels over it.
Although I instantly realized something was wrong with _that_ picture, I started babbling as an automatic response. Defending what I'd been doing for the last week, and while I was babbling, I got so much insight into why I still sometimes react badly to change, still deal with stuff that isn't mine, and accepted all manner of chaos and dysfunction into my life, because, for a change, I really _heard_ what I was saying..and from there, a whole bunch of energetically boxed-up stuff I'd just moved around for years, was peacefully sent back to the Universe. I'm not sure I want to ask my roommate what she was thinking as I was babbling on, however! At least I can laugh at myself as I'm writing this post.
What boxed-up things in your life, are still causing you issues? Are you sure they're boxed up and ready to be sent away, or are there still things you are using these issues for that is functional, although you may not realize it yet? What do you wish you could box up and send away, fully and consciously? What do you need to learn to accept and live with?
Until next time...peace.
Monday, January 17, 2011
What's In Your Boxes?
I was awakened early this morning by the sound of my roommates' cat rooting around in a box of clothes in my closet, which he had managed to open (this particular cat is sometimes too bright for his own good). Judging by the way the cat was eagerly diving inside, I was thinking, rather sarcastically, that he was acting as if he were about thisclose to finding the Holy Grail inside a box of things that weren't his to play with.
With that, I snapped awake with a start, as it suddenly dawned on me that, to him, he probably *was* finding a version of the Holy Grail in that box, as he's not the most confident cat in the world, and he's been having sovereignty issues. Peace, comfort, warmth, and (comparative) safety in this, hidden-in-a-box state, is probably as close to the Holy Grail as he's going to get for the time being.
As I got out of bed to shoo the cat from my closet, I started musing to myself just how many people, lived life the same way. Forever digging through the boxes and closeted parts of their psyche and their very existence--or the boxes & closets of others, for things such as peace, warmth and safety, yet either finding the very opposite, or worse, getting a scolding for being in the wrong place.
I could feel his confusion and fear as I gently lifted him out of the box, and calmly escorted him out of the closet. I held him for a bit (yes, I have animal handling skills) gently explaining to him ( I do talk to animals, and while I believe they do not always understand the spoken words proper, I believe they do understand the intent behind our spoken language) that my closet, while a great place to hide, was not a _safe_ place for him to be.
I snuggled him over my shoulder until he relaxed and began to purr, while I told him what a good and handsome cat he is (he is--SUCH an expressive face), while also sending the energy of unconditional love to the people, especially children, who live the same way I had just gently discouraged the cat from doing.
What could be in those boxes that would give people the impression that the things they think that they want, exists in a box, be it their own box, or, alternatively, a box belonging to someone else? Why would something that is located in a box _that's been packed away_, be so valuable that someone would spend their life searching for it, and forget entirely that the whole concept of boxes translates into a place to put something that's is being/has been packed away, either for safekeeping, or to be forgotten? Abuse and fear are certainly good places to start, but, I believe that there are more answers to the question than that.
What is in your metaphorical boxes? Are the boxes really yours to start with? Is what is in the box really yours? If not, then why have you taken the responsibility of that box? What might have you packed away for either safekeeping, or for the purpose of forgetting it? What would be the hazard, if any, of opening those boxes and examining the contents to see if they are still needed, or if those contents really can be safely forgotten, or just as safely passed on to someone else?
Until next time..peace.
With that, I snapped awake with a start, as it suddenly dawned on me that, to him, he probably *was* finding a version of the Holy Grail in that box, as he's not the most confident cat in the world, and he's been having sovereignty issues. Peace, comfort, warmth, and (comparative) safety in this, hidden-in-a-box state, is probably as close to the Holy Grail as he's going to get for the time being.
As I got out of bed to shoo the cat from my closet, I started musing to myself just how many people, lived life the same way. Forever digging through the boxes and closeted parts of their psyche and their very existence--or the boxes & closets of others, for things such as peace, warmth and safety, yet either finding the very opposite, or worse, getting a scolding for being in the wrong place.
I could feel his confusion and fear as I gently lifted him out of the box, and calmly escorted him out of the closet. I held him for a bit (yes, I have animal handling skills) gently explaining to him ( I do talk to animals, and while I believe they do not always understand the spoken words proper, I believe they do understand the intent behind our spoken language) that my closet, while a great place to hide, was not a _safe_ place for him to be.
I snuggled him over my shoulder until he relaxed and began to purr, while I told him what a good and handsome cat he is (he is--SUCH an expressive face), while also sending the energy of unconditional love to the people, especially children, who live the same way I had just gently discouraged the cat from doing.
What could be in those boxes that would give people the impression that the things they think that they want, exists in a box, be it their own box, or, alternatively, a box belonging to someone else? Why would something that is located in a box _that's been packed away_, be so valuable that someone would spend their life searching for it, and forget entirely that the whole concept of boxes translates into a place to put something that's is being/has been packed away, either for safekeeping, or to be forgotten? Abuse and fear are certainly good places to start, but, I believe that there are more answers to the question than that.
What is in your metaphorical boxes? Are the boxes really yours to start with? Is what is in the box really yours? If not, then why have you taken the responsibility of that box? What might have you packed away for either safekeeping, or for the purpose of forgetting it? What would be the hazard, if any, of opening those boxes and examining the contents to see if they are still needed, or if those contents really can be safely forgotten, or just as safely passed on to someone else?
Until next time..peace.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
What Are You Agreeing to in Life?
This morning I was awakened to a horrendous crash in the living room of the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of the cats belonging to my roommates, actively trying to kill one another; as I ran down the stairs and around the corner, the first thing I saw was fur all over the floor. The second thing I saw was lamps down, and pictures askew.
The next thing I saw were long claw marks all over the piano, as the cat that lost the fight went tearing past me to hide behind me (smart cat). The very last thing I saw was the cat that started the fight, looking very pleased with himself.
I had made a promise to myself to do (and had been actively practicing) what I heard Cowboy Shaman (twitter.com/cowboyshaman) call 'saying yes to life', which means dealing with present things in the present moment, with calmness, clarity, and without complaint; this situation that the cats created, was definitely putting that to the test.
First, I put the kitty who lost the fight, outside. Along with the dog, who had to go out anyway. I wish I could have caught the winner of the fight, for he definitely needed a good jaunt outside, at least in my opinion he did.
So, as I was cleaning up the freshly-created mess, I got to thinking about just how much breakable 'stuff' (and 'stuff'' in general) not only goes into a physical realm, such as a house, a car, or an office, but also, just how much 'stuff', breakable or otherwise, comes and goes into relationships of any sort. While I was cleaning, it so happened that I found a box of things that clearly belonged in the basement. So, still in that accepting and patient 'say yes to life' mode, I took the box downstairs.
When I opened up the basement, I sighed in dismay at the disarray, set down what I had in my hands, only to have two glasses promptly fall out of the box, bounce off of the resilient flooring and shatter on the part of the basement floor that was concrete. Patience and acceptance promptly vacated the premises.
I swore under my breath, knowing that I was in the midst of a lesson that I was just plain not in the mood to be receiving. I had just cleaned up broken glass already due to a situation that wasn't caused by my pet, I had a headache starting, my back hurt, I had not yet had coffee or breakfast and I could hear the dog barking.
I did the only logical thing at that point. I yelled at the Universe to just stop trying to teach me lessons from the point of view of chaos and pain already; I'm not into that crap anymore. From there I dried my eyes, took a deep breath, and announced clearly and with no hesitation whatsoever that I wanted to live in cleanliness, order and in peace, and in a much warmer climate, and for this to happen as soon as possible with the full co-operation of the Universe.
The first thing I laid eyes on was a bag of long-forgotten garbage that my roommates had left in the corner. Back to 'saying yes to life' I went, and cleaned that up, let the dog back in, got the broom and dustpan next, and cleaned up the broken glass.
When I straightened back up, I got a look around at my surroundings. Honestly, the scene resembled a scaled-down version of an estate I sorted the papers and belongings for. Heaps of boxes, belonging to the roommates. Both of them have been married twice, so there are rather a lot of boxes dating back awhile, as one would expect.
Suddenly I 'got it', and with that, didn't even bother to stifle a chuckle. I saw that the basement was holding the roommates' metaphorical boxes of memories, wishes, hopes and dreams, alongside little compartments of 'stuff', breakable or not, that either wasn't ever going to be dealt with, or was only dealt with on special occasions. While it was in my power to take all those boxes and put them into neat, orderly piles, the roommates were still going to want to get into the boxes from time to time, and so in the natural course get them all jumbled again about as life went on--or elect to clean them out properly.
Then I turned all this around, and applied it to my own life, chuckling just as much. How much metaphorical 'stuff' did I have all jumbled up in storage, I wondered, and realized that there really wasn't very much at all, and what was left, was being cleared out in love. I knew that I didn't *need* the 'stuff', the 'stuff' didn't need me, and that I didn't need the story behind the 'stuff', and I was truly, at peace and completely okay with that.
I went back upstairs and dealt with the day, knowing that there would likely be more to this lesson, and in that, I was not disappointed. While I was discussing the day with someone else, I got to thinking about how one acquires 'stuff' to begin with, and realized that it had to do with interior and exterior decisions, and whether or not the interior or exterior decisions matched up.
For example, believing internally that one should not cheat on ones' spouse, externally agreeing to not cheat on ones' spouse by way of the marriage vows, and actively living in that monogamous agreement, would be an example of interior and exterior decisions matching up.
On the other hand, externally vowing to not cheat on ones' spouse, yet believing internally that it is perfectly acceptable to do so, is an example of internal and exterior decisions *not* matching up--hence, 'stuff' gets created. (and how!)
I wondered why anyone would make decisions where an internal and external decision wouldn't line up, such as in marital agreements, and we decided that it's because some folks are less resistant to expectations of the world we live in, than others.
There are those that want what I call the "Hallmark Moments" of weddings, births, family reunions, etc. more than they actually want the day to day reality of the things themselves. That they want these things, because they have been taught to want them, that that's the way things are because thats what they've seen modelled (good, bad or indifferent), without fully believing in that which they are doing, or examining whether or not this is what they really want. There are also those that think the opposite as well.
From there, I got to thinking about my Reiki training, and the methods taught for erasing karma, and started wondering if that same or similar ritual would work for those who want to clear their internal basement of the 'stuff' as the little boxes come up.
So, this week, I ask--what 'stuff' inside you do you keep? What 'stuff' do you want to throw away? What 'stuff' do you only haul out and display on special occasions? Why do you do this? What situations led you to acquiring 'stuff' to begin with? What cost/benefit would there be to letting 'stuff' go?
Until next time, peace!
The next thing I saw were long claw marks all over the piano, as the cat that lost the fight went tearing past me to hide behind me (smart cat). The very last thing I saw was the cat that started the fight, looking very pleased with himself.
I had made a promise to myself to do (and had been actively practicing) what I heard Cowboy Shaman (twitter.com/cowboyshaman) call 'saying yes to life', which means dealing with present things in the present moment, with calmness, clarity, and without complaint; this situation that the cats created, was definitely putting that to the test.
First, I put the kitty who lost the fight, outside. Along with the dog, who had to go out anyway. I wish I could have caught the winner of the fight, for he definitely needed a good jaunt outside, at least in my opinion he did.
So, as I was cleaning up the freshly-created mess, I got to thinking about just how much breakable 'stuff' (and 'stuff'' in general) not only goes into a physical realm, such as a house, a car, or an office, but also, just how much 'stuff', breakable or otherwise, comes and goes into relationships of any sort. While I was cleaning, it so happened that I found a box of things that clearly belonged in the basement. So, still in that accepting and patient 'say yes to life' mode, I took the box downstairs.
When I opened up the basement, I sighed in dismay at the disarray, set down what I had in my hands, only to have two glasses promptly fall out of the box, bounce off of the resilient flooring and shatter on the part of the basement floor that was concrete. Patience and acceptance promptly vacated the premises.
I swore under my breath, knowing that I was in the midst of a lesson that I was just plain not in the mood to be receiving. I had just cleaned up broken glass already due to a situation that wasn't caused by my pet, I had a headache starting, my back hurt, I had not yet had coffee or breakfast and I could hear the dog barking.
I did the only logical thing at that point. I yelled at the Universe to just stop trying to teach me lessons from the point of view of chaos and pain already; I'm not into that crap anymore. From there I dried my eyes, took a deep breath, and announced clearly and with no hesitation whatsoever that I wanted to live in cleanliness, order and in peace, and in a much warmer climate, and for this to happen as soon as possible with the full co-operation of the Universe.
The first thing I laid eyes on was a bag of long-forgotten garbage that my roommates had left in the corner. Back to 'saying yes to life' I went, and cleaned that up, let the dog back in, got the broom and dustpan next, and cleaned up the broken glass.
When I straightened back up, I got a look around at my surroundings. Honestly, the scene resembled a scaled-down version of an estate I sorted the papers and belongings for. Heaps of boxes, belonging to the roommates. Both of them have been married twice, so there are rather a lot of boxes dating back awhile, as one would expect.
Suddenly I 'got it', and with that, didn't even bother to stifle a chuckle. I saw that the basement was holding the roommates' metaphorical boxes of memories, wishes, hopes and dreams, alongside little compartments of 'stuff', breakable or not, that either wasn't ever going to be dealt with, or was only dealt with on special occasions. While it was in my power to take all those boxes and put them into neat, orderly piles, the roommates were still going to want to get into the boxes from time to time, and so in the natural course get them all jumbled again about as life went on--or elect to clean them out properly.
Then I turned all this around, and applied it to my own life, chuckling just as much. How much metaphorical 'stuff' did I have all jumbled up in storage, I wondered, and realized that there really wasn't very much at all, and what was left, was being cleared out in love. I knew that I didn't *need* the 'stuff', the 'stuff' didn't need me, and that I didn't need the story behind the 'stuff', and I was truly, at peace and completely okay with that.
I went back upstairs and dealt with the day, knowing that there would likely be more to this lesson, and in that, I was not disappointed. While I was discussing the day with someone else, I got to thinking about how one acquires 'stuff' to begin with, and realized that it had to do with interior and exterior decisions, and whether or not the interior or exterior decisions matched up.
For example, believing internally that one should not cheat on ones' spouse, externally agreeing to not cheat on ones' spouse by way of the marriage vows, and actively living in that monogamous agreement, would be an example of interior and exterior decisions matching up.
On the other hand, externally vowing to not cheat on ones' spouse, yet believing internally that it is perfectly acceptable to do so, is an example of internal and exterior decisions *not* matching up--hence, 'stuff' gets created. (and how!)
I wondered why anyone would make decisions where an internal and external decision wouldn't line up, such as in marital agreements, and we decided that it's because some folks are less resistant to expectations of the world we live in, than others.
There are those that want what I call the "Hallmark Moments" of weddings, births, family reunions, etc. more than they actually want the day to day reality of the things themselves. That they want these things, because they have been taught to want them, that that's the way things are because thats what they've seen modelled (good, bad or indifferent), without fully believing in that which they are doing, or examining whether or not this is what they really want. There are also those that think the opposite as well.
From there, I got to thinking about my Reiki training, and the methods taught for erasing karma, and started wondering if that same or similar ritual would work for those who want to clear their internal basement of the 'stuff' as the little boxes come up.
So, this week, I ask--what 'stuff' inside you do you keep? What 'stuff' do you want to throw away? What 'stuff' do you only haul out and display on special occasions? Why do you do this? What situations led you to acquiring 'stuff' to begin with? What cost/benefit would there be to letting 'stuff' go?
Until next time, peace!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Five Steps to Getting Out of a Relationship Rut
Jumping right in..
The first step into getting out of a relationship rut is to realize that you are in one in the first place. To use a couple of examples, let's say that you're having the same fights with no resolution, or doing the same old things in the same old way with the same people, and one day, there is a realization, that there is a rut in the relationship.
The second step, is to sit with that realization for a bit, alone and without drama. Be present to it. Ask why that rut is there? How and why was that rut created. What need was being served at the time of the creation of the rut, and what need is the rut serving now? What were the functions and dysfunctions to the rut? What lesson or lessons has that rut taught? What are the consequences or side effects of having been in the rut? What are the consequences and side effects of exiting the rut?
This might be difficult for some people to do this alone, in which case, consulting a relationship coach, mental health counselor, pastor, etc. could be considered a wise move, especially if one is new to this sort of practice. It is not, at least according to this writer, the smartest of moves to take the realization of a relationship rut to a friend, or other third party where there is no premise or guarantee of confidentiality.
The third step, is to thank the rut for its service. I know this part may fly in the face of reason for some folks, but, to give gratitude for the service of that rut, will assist in creating closure for that rut, faster than sitting in resentment and resistance of the rut.
The fourth step, is to make an active, communicative decision with the person/people involved to pursue a better balance, as ruts are all, at their essence, about being out of balance. This may be tough. The other people/persons involved in the rut, may not be on the same page (or even reading the same book!) as the person electing to exit the rut. This is not a fault issue or a judgement issue against the others involved; it's a case of what is, and it is entirely up to the people involved to exercise their free will onto whether to elect to stay in the rut, or to leave the rut.
The fifth step is to simply do the things that were decided upon to pursue the balance that was decided upon, without guilt, worry or fear.
What things do you find get you out of any rut you may find yourself in? What is the reaction of others when you elect to get out of a rut? How do you stay focused on getting out of a rut?
The first step into getting out of a relationship rut is to realize that you are in one in the first place. To use a couple of examples, let's say that you're having the same fights with no resolution, or doing the same old things in the same old way with the same people, and one day, there is a realization, that there is a rut in the relationship.
The second step, is to sit with that realization for a bit, alone and without drama. Be present to it. Ask why that rut is there? How and why was that rut created. What need was being served at the time of the creation of the rut, and what need is the rut serving now? What were the functions and dysfunctions to the rut? What lesson or lessons has that rut taught? What are the consequences or side effects of having been in the rut? What are the consequences and side effects of exiting the rut?
This might be difficult for some people to do this alone, in which case, consulting a relationship coach, mental health counselor, pastor, etc. could be considered a wise move, especially if one is new to this sort of practice. It is not, at least according to this writer, the smartest of moves to take the realization of a relationship rut to a friend, or other third party where there is no premise or guarantee of confidentiality.
The third step, is to thank the rut for its service. I know this part may fly in the face of reason for some folks, but, to give gratitude for the service of that rut, will assist in creating closure for that rut, faster than sitting in resentment and resistance of the rut.
The fourth step, is to make an active, communicative decision with the person/people involved to pursue a better balance, as ruts are all, at their essence, about being out of balance. This may be tough. The other people/persons involved in the rut, may not be on the same page (or even reading the same book!) as the person electing to exit the rut. This is not a fault issue or a judgement issue against the others involved; it's a case of what is, and it is entirely up to the people involved to exercise their free will onto whether to elect to stay in the rut, or to leave the rut.
The fifth step is to simply do the things that were decided upon to pursue the balance that was decided upon, without guilt, worry or fear.
What things do you find get you out of any rut you may find yourself in? What is the reaction of others when you elect to get out of a rut? How do you stay focused on getting out of a rut?
A change in the Direction of my Business
I woke up this morning with an inspiration. That inspiration was that in addition to teaching folks the basics of street smarts, what I also needed to be doing was consciously teaching people to be more in awareness of their thoughts, speech, actions and consequences.
So, starting today, I will be doing so.
So, starting today, I will be doing so.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Talking About Home
It's just before sunrise here in New Hampshire. My coffee is brewing, Lou is running around doing something suitably cat-like, I've got clothes drying in the dryer, and I'm psyching myself up to go and do the whole snow removal thing, with a housework chaser. Typical winter morning, decidedly normal-sounding, right? A lot of folks would be very happy to be in my boots right now.
What I'm doing first this morning, is looking out over the snowy landscape while critically re-examining a wish I thought I held for many years, for a normal, poetically pretty and positively Rockwell-ian New England home and existence. I'm finding that particular wish isn't quite working for me now, and honestly never really did, because this wish wasn't carefully considered for all of the possible consequences--mostly because the wish was made from my point of view back when I could not have possibly understood the ramifications and consequences of the wish.
I'd made the wish for 'home' when I was a little kid, before I truly understood the concept--during a stressful incident with my mother that never should have been allowed to go as far as it did. Perhaps my first lesson that something said in complete innocence can be heard as the complete opposite of what was actually said.
As a younger adult, I still didn't quite understand, because I'd never really had that knowledge of 'home' and just what it takes to be a successful homeowner, and the knowledge that the concepts are two entirely different things that I'd had no exposure to previously--I sure understand now!
This desire and ongoing expectation for a stable home for cat and I has not changed one iota, but forever chasing the image of a Rockwell-ian home and existence these past years has been a struggle, filled with fear, sadness, loss, loneliness, lessons learned through pain, and gallons of tears; definitely not the image evoked by a Rockwell painting!
It wasn't until this morning that I realized why my wish wasn't coming true, no matter how much effort I put into it (and there has been a LOT)-- it's because it wasn't so much the just-right fixer house itself falling into my lap, that I was wishing for, as it turns out. It was the whole concept of feeling safe and at home where I lived, and wanting to create that home.
I realized that what I needed to feel safe and at home in my own house, was a whole host of things I had never really before seriously/consciously considered, before realizing in flashes of insight that I could, in fact, actually have what I *really* wanted, instead of what I just _thought_ that I wanted, or that others would have wanted me to have for their own reasons.
The location for _my_ home exists, and the technology that I'd want to have exists now, or likely will soon, and that means I don't have to cobble together bits and pieces with tools, hardware, a prayer, or permission from an authority figurehead (or some combination) to make it happen. Well, ok. I wouldn't have to seek permission outside of a building permit, and I hope I get to talk to a building inspector that actually understands what I am wanting to do.
There have been some good things that have come out of my experience of home ownership thus far, such as a general toughening up (and I was pretty sturdy to start with), the receipt of the gift of confidence and an adoption of an 'I can do damn near anything' attitude, an education and a half on how to fix and remodel houses, the acquisition of some really great friends, kick-ass experiences, and positively exponential growth as a human being.
That said, I don't want to do another fixer-upper house unless the deal is either too good to pass up, or is such an easy remodel into what I wanted to build from scratch that it just makes sense to do the remodel. I've realized that I'm pretty much done with the band-aid approach to life, homeownership, and home repairs/remodelling, and while I can still admire the beauty and appeal of an older house, such things just don't resonate with me any more.
It is now of very little surprise to me that I have spent so much time in sussing out real estate ads, landscaping and gardening catalogues, furniture stores, and the architectural salvage places and not being able to find just the right blend. In my head, and in an outer reality of bits and pieces, I was trying to create a list of the things in the home that I really do want for myself, and not repeat the mistakes I've made already; in that moment of clarity, I found peace within myself, forgiveness for my errors and why I made them to begin with, as well as finding a direction to go in that I am certain of, where I will, at last, create 'home'.
I know that I am far from the only person in the world with my experience, and, it is my hope that this post saves someone some grief, and the mistakes that I made.
What I'm doing first this morning, is looking out over the snowy landscape while critically re-examining a wish I thought I held for many years, for a normal, poetically pretty and positively Rockwell-ian New England home and existence. I'm finding that particular wish isn't quite working for me now, and honestly never really did, because this wish wasn't carefully considered for all of the possible consequences--mostly because the wish was made from my point of view back when I could not have possibly understood the ramifications and consequences of the wish.
I'd made the wish for 'home' when I was a little kid, before I truly understood the concept--during a stressful incident with my mother that never should have been allowed to go as far as it did. Perhaps my first lesson that something said in complete innocence can be heard as the complete opposite of what was actually said.
As a younger adult, I still didn't quite understand, because I'd never really had that knowledge of 'home' and just what it takes to be a successful homeowner, and the knowledge that the concepts are two entirely different things that I'd had no exposure to previously--I sure understand now!
This desire and ongoing expectation for a stable home for cat and I has not changed one iota, but forever chasing the image of a Rockwell-ian home and existence these past years has been a struggle, filled with fear, sadness, loss, loneliness, lessons learned through pain, and gallons of tears; definitely not the image evoked by a Rockwell painting!
It wasn't until this morning that I realized why my wish wasn't coming true, no matter how much effort I put into it (and there has been a LOT)-- it's because it wasn't so much the just-right fixer house itself falling into my lap, that I was wishing for, as it turns out. It was the whole concept of feeling safe and at home where I lived, and wanting to create that home.
I realized that what I needed to feel safe and at home in my own house, was a whole host of things I had never really before seriously/consciously considered, before realizing in flashes of insight that I could, in fact, actually have what I *really* wanted, instead of what I just _thought_ that I wanted, or that others would have wanted me to have for their own reasons.
The location for _my_ home exists, and the technology that I'd want to have exists now, or likely will soon, and that means I don't have to cobble together bits and pieces with tools, hardware, a prayer, or permission from an authority figurehead (or some combination) to make it happen. Well, ok. I wouldn't have to seek permission outside of a building permit, and I hope I get to talk to a building inspector that actually understands what I am wanting to do.
There have been some good things that have come out of my experience of home ownership thus far, such as a general toughening up (and I was pretty sturdy to start with), the receipt of the gift of confidence and an adoption of an 'I can do damn near anything' attitude, an education and a half on how to fix and remodel houses, the acquisition of some really great friends, kick-ass experiences, and positively exponential growth as a human being.
That said, I don't want to do another fixer-upper house unless the deal is either too good to pass up, or is such an easy remodel into what I wanted to build from scratch that it just makes sense to do the remodel. I've realized that I'm pretty much done with the band-aid approach to life, homeownership, and home repairs/remodelling, and while I can still admire the beauty and appeal of an older house, such things just don't resonate with me any more.
It is now of very little surprise to me that I have spent so much time in sussing out real estate ads, landscaping and gardening catalogues, furniture stores, and the architectural salvage places and not being able to find just the right blend. In my head, and in an outer reality of bits and pieces, I was trying to create a list of the things in the home that I really do want for myself, and not repeat the mistakes I've made already; in that moment of clarity, I found peace within myself, forgiveness for my errors and why I made them to begin with, as well as finding a direction to go in that I am certain of, where I will, at last, create 'home'.
I know that I am far from the only person in the world with my experience, and, it is my hope that this post saves someone some grief, and the mistakes that I made.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
They Said *What* During the Interview?
It hit me late last night, that there are a lot of people out there who are completely and utterly unaware of how they come across to others, and that rather a lot of them own businesses. Unsurprisingly, these people and their businesses are struggling in some fashion, some in more than one.
I’ve been on job interviews with some of them, and I’ve come to learn that when the first statement out of a potential employer’s mouth, shortly after ‘hello!’ is something to the effect of ‘ God, I hope you’re better than the last person I interviewed, they were a complete idiot!’ or ‘I just can’t seem to keep help in this position, would you be willing to commit to staying in this job, in writing?’ or answering a question about compensation with a hang-dog expression, accompanied by an ‘I know I don’t pay well, and I don’t offer benefits of any kind, but it’s all I can afford.’, I know that I have just seen a very clear sign that I don’t want to work for that person, and in fact want to get out of their office as soon as possible. I don’t believe that it is just me that feels that an interview goes both ways, and I *do* believe that when a potential employer is interviewing a potential employee, professional standards of conduct also go both ways.
To explain in a nutshell: I believe I am not the only one imbued with the understanding that it looks bad when a prospective employee speaks poorly of a former employer. However, it looks just as bad when a prospective employer speaks poorly of a former employee or another prospective employee. It looks even worse when a prospective employer damns their own performance as a fellow professional, as an employer, or makes the company look unstable and underfunded, to a prospective employee by way of their words or their deeds on the interview.
I’ve been on job interviews with some of them, and I’ve come to learn that when the first statement out of a potential employer’s mouth, shortly after ‘hello!’ is something to the effect of ‘ God, I hope you’re better than the last person I interviewed, they were a complete idiot!’ or ‘I just can’t seem to keep help in this position, would you be willing to commit to staying in this job, in writing?’ or answering a question about compensation with a hang-dog expression, accompanied by an ‘I know I don’t pay well, and I don’t offer benefits of any kind, but it’s all I can afford.’, I know that I have just seen a very clear sign that I don’t want to work for that person, and in fact want to get out of their office as soon as possible. I don’t believe that it is just me that feels that an interview goes both ways, and I *do* believe that when a potential employer is interviewing a potential employee, professional standards of conduct also go both ways.
To explain in a nutshell: I believe I am not the only one imbued with the understanding that it looks bad when a prospective employee speaks poorly of a former employer. However, it looks just as bad when a prospective employer speaks poorly of a former employee or another prospective employee. It looks even worse when a prospective employer damns their own performance as a fellow professional, as an employer, or makes the company look unstable and underfunded, to a prospective employee by way of their words or their deeds on the interview.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Lessons From the Acreage, Tale #2
This is the second in a series of stories that I started putting together, based on experiences that I had when I lived in a fixer-upper house in Southern NH.
Once the boyfriend and I ascertained that he was going to be the CSO (Chief Snowblower Operator) of the house, I turned my attention to the inside of the house. The house did have plenty to recommend it, in its way–sunny rooms, a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, vaulted ceiling in the living room, a pantry, a good sized-kitchen, etc.The flooring, however, was just not going to cut it. More accurately, I was concerned about sections of old cracked flooring cutting me, or either cat, or dog.
So off I went to what would become one of my favorite places, Home Depot. A whole store dedicated to possibilities and fixes, and eminently practical, mixed with a shot of creativity and fun–that’s a place I need to be! I wandered around and wandered around the Home Depot..and I found this miraculous stuff as a stopgap measure for the floor. I thought it would do for a few years until I could build a new house. It was, and is currently, known as sticky tile. Lovely stuff. I am a fan.
I started where the floor was the worst–in the main hallway. So UP came the crappy old floor. I fought and struggled and swore and I peeled that crap up with the aid of sheer determination, along with a butter knife, an EMS knife (as they are known locally), and the windshield scraper for my truck. Only to encounter enough dirt underneath it all to sand my back stairs after a blizzard. Then I vacuumed and only then did I realize what I had been down in all day. Dirt. Yuck. Eeu.
Coming back to the task at hand, I blessed the floor with Reiki symbols, and I laid tile like a demon on what was now nice clean subfloor before it got dirty again. Although I did screw up trying to get the corner by the bathroom right. Ah well. First time doing it, bound to happen and all of that. I was just proud of myself for getting that far.
When I got done, I realized that I had, in fact, bought too much tile. Doing some quick math, I realized I’d have enough to re-lay the floor in the pantry, and there was enough daylight left to do it. Woohoo! So..up came the pantry floor, which co-operatively came up as a single sheet, as I recall. Down went the sticky tile, one tile at a time.
Finally I was done with the 2 new floors for one day. I was so proud of myself. I felt empowered, proud, and like I was finally getting the hang of this homeownership thing. I felt sore. The snowblower incident was just a blip. My pride, however, was very short-lived.
I believe I mentioned in tale #1, that at the time, I had an elderly dog and an opinionated cat. Well, the cat was only a kitten then, and, like most kittens, he was both sneaky and curious. Without me realizing it, he’d sneaked into the pantry before I’d closed the pantry door for the night and gone to bed–at the other end of the house.
A few hours later, the dog wakes me up, all cold nose and doggie concern. Then I heard the howls. Not knowing what to think, I go tearing back up to the kitchen end of the house, and realize that the cat has been caught in the unheated pantry most of the night. So I think, “ok, open the door, let him in, he’ll be fine.”
Imagine my shock when I opened the door and saw that the cat had somehow managed to get up onto the top pantry shelf, knock my trusty can of expandable spray foam insulation off of the shelf, managed to get the cap off and spray the stuff. All over himself, and all over my brand-new floor and the wall; and had, in fact, managed to glue himself to the floor with the spray foam insulation. There were howls of dismay. Whether his or mine were louder is a matter of some debate.
There was no choice. Up came the brand-new pantry floor as the sun was rising. Fortunately, it was sticky tile and wasn’t terribly expensive. Alas, the cat was still glued to some of it. I used to be a cat and dog groomer. I still had my electric clippers, which were promptly located and put into service shaving sticky tile and expandable spray foam insulation off of the (longhaired) cat. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I then had to wash the chemical residue off of the cat. The house used to house an in-home hair salon, so, I toss this big-assed, by now semi-bald cat over my shoulder, grab the pet shampoo and some towels, and head back down to the other end of the house. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I was less amused when I discovered that he did not, in fact, fit in either the kitchen or the hair salon sink. He was just too darn big. The cat at this point is giving me dirty looks as I have him standing with his hind legs in the hair salon sink, and with his front paws draped over my forearm. Which doesn’t sound like that big a deal until one realizes that this is a 20 lb cat (all muscle, bone and fur, and still growing), I don’t have the water on yet, and I don’t know how this animal is going to react when I have the water on. Long story short, while cat did not appreciate his bath, the fact that I am still here attests to his fine temperament and good humor about such matters.
Lessons learned: Always keep the sticky/poisonous stuff in a cabinet that the pets can’t open. Don’t be an ‘that idiot’ who assumes that there is no way a pet is going to get into something. They might surprise you!
Always make sure that, if you have intentions towards washing your own pets, that you have facilities to do it.
Don’t get cocky when your home improvement project goes better than you had hoped.
Until next time…peace.
Once the boyfriend and I ascertained that he was going to be the CSO (Chief Snowblower Operator) of the house, I turned my attention to the inside of the house. The house did have plenty to recommend it, in its way–sunny rooms, a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the living room, vaulted ceiling in the living room, a pantry, a good sized-kitchen, etc.The flooring, however, was just not going to cut it. More accurately, I was concerned about sections of old cracked flooring cutting me, or either cat, or dog.
So off I went to what would become one of my favorite places, Home Depot. A whole store dedicated to possibilities and fixes, and eminently practical, mixed with a shot of creativity and fun–that’s a place I need to be! I wandered around and wandered around the Home Depot..and I found this miraculous stuff as a stopgap measure for the floor. I thought it would do for a few years until I could build a new house. It was, and is currently, known as sticky tile. Lovely stuff. I am a fan.
I started where the floor was the worst–in the main hallway. So UP came the crappy old floor. I fought and struggled and swore and I peeled that crap up with the aid of sheer determination, along with a butter knife, an EMS knife (as they are known locally), and the windshield scraper for my truck. Only to encounter enough dirt underneath it all to sand my back stairs after a blizzard. Then I vacuumed and only then did I realize what I had been down in all day. Dirt. Yuck. Eeu.
Coming back to the task at hand, I blessed the floor with Reiki symbols, and I laid tile like a demon on what was now nice clean subfloor before it got dirty again. Although I did screw up trying to get the corner by the bathroom right. Ah well. First time doing it, bound to happen and all of that. I was just proud of myself for getting that far.
When I got done, I realized that I had, in fact, bought too much tile. Doing some quick math, I realized I’d have enough to re-lay the floor in the pantry, and there was enough daylight left to do it. Woohoo! So..up came the pantry floor, which co-operatively came up as a single sheet, as I recall. Down went the sticky tile, one tile at a time.
Finally I was done with the 2 new floors for one day. I was so proud of myself. I felt empowered, proud, and like I was finally getting the hang of this homeownership thing. I felt sore. The snowblower incident was just a blip. My pride, however, was very short-lived.
I believe I mentioned in tale #1, that at the time, I had an elderly dog and an opinionated cat. Well, the cat was only a kitten then, and, like most kittens, he was both sneaky and curious. Without me realizing it, he’d sneaked into the pantry before I’d closed the pantry door for the night and gone to bed–at the other end of the house.
A few hours later, the dog wakes me up, all cold nose and doggie concern. Then I heard the howls. Not knowing what to think, I go tearing back up to the kitchen end of the house, and realize that the cat has been caught in the unheated pantry most of the night. So I think, “ok, open the door, let him in, he’ll be fine.”
Imagine my shock when I opened the door and saw that the cat had somehow managed to get up onto the top pantry shelf, knock my trusty can of expandable spray foam insulation off of the shelf, managed to get the cap off and spray the stuff. All over himself, and all over my brand-new floor and the wall; and had, in fact, managed to glue himself to the floor with the spray foam insulation. There were howls of dismay. Whether his or mine were louder is a matter of some debate.
There was no choice. Up came the brand-new pantry floor as the sun was rising. Fortunately, it was sticky tile and wasn’t terribly expensive. Alas, the cat was still glued to some of it. I used to be a cat and dog groomer. I still had my electric clippers, which were promptly located and put into service shaving sticky tile and expandable spray foam insulation off of the (longhaired) cat. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I then had to wash the chemical residue off of the cat. The house used to house an in-home hair salon, so, I toss this big-assed, by now semi-bald cat over my shoulder, grab the pet shampoo and some towels, and head back down to the other end of the house. The cat was not amused. Neither was I.
I was less amused when I discovered that he did not, in fact, fit in either the kitchen or the hair salon sink. He was just too darn big. The cat at this point is giving me dirty looks as I have him standing with his hind legs in the hair salon sink, and with his front paws draped over my forearm. Which doesn’t sound like that big a deal until one realizes that this is a 20 lb cat (all muscle, bone and fur, and still growing), I don’t have the water on yet, and I don’t know how this animal is going to react when I have the water on. Long story short, while cat did not appreciate his bath, the fact that I am still here attests to his fine temperament and good humor about such matters.
Lessons learned: Always keep the sticky/poisonous stuff in a cabinet that the pets can’t open. Don’t be an ‘that idiot’ who assumes that there is no way a pet is going to get into something. They might surprise you!
Always make sure that, if you have intentions towards washing your own pets, that you have facilities to do it.
Don’t get cocky when your home improvement project goes better than you had hoped.
Until next time…peace.
Lessons From the Acreage, Tale #1
A few years back, I had a home and a couple of acres in a small town in southern NH. It was perhaps one of my greatest learning and growth experiences.
It started off for me with all sorts of dreams and promise, combined with precious little skill. My thought at the time was ‘how hard could this be’? It wasn’t long before I had my answer and started thinking that perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew. I had, after all, only arrived in town with a divorce decree, an elderly dog, an opinionated cat, a great big smile and a hope for the best.
What I’d really wanted, and had intended to have, dammit, was a Norman Rockwell-ian life for all of us. Me, cat, dog. Someone to love us as a package. My intentions were good, they were. And God knows I tried. I did. So, so hard. I wanted that fantasy in absolutely the worst way. Part of me still does. Only with more stability.
Right in that moment, however, I had a shabby little broken-down house on an overgrown 2-plus acre lot..in the middle of winter. I’d discovered that the place needed more work than I thought, and I had just then discovered that I was absolutely terrified of my snowblower, as I discovered it had whirring blades. Why I didn’t notice this before..no clue. Probably too busy listening to the boyfriend I had at the time expound upon the virtues of the beastly thing, while I envisioned cutting through huge drifts of snow like a hot knife through butter. That pesky fantasy thing again.
Fortunately, it is not illegal to be afraid of snowblowers, but I will tell you that it is damned inconvenient in the middle of winter in New Hampshire, and I can tell you that it’s really embarrassing to be afraid of lawn equipment when one is dating a contractor who, so far as I knew at the time, was afraid of absolutely nothing. I wanted him to be proud of me, and there I was, defeated by fear and a mechanical device. Let’s just fast forward through the nasty self-talk and say it was a moment being an asshat to myself.
So the first thing I did, once I was back in the house, was burst into tears. Big huge sobs of terror, embarrassment (because I felt I ‘shouldn’t’ be afraid of lawn equipment, but it turns out that I most assuredly am) overwhelm and not knowing where to start to ‘fix’ it all.
Once I got done crying, I got up to take a shower, thinking I would shower, get myself warm and reasonably together, wait for the snowplow to come through and then shovel and salt. That’s how I got through my shower, truly grateful that it was *hot*.
When I was in the shower, I heard a large rumbling noise outside. Figuring that it was the snowplow plowing out the cul-de-sac, I wasn’t at all worried, and finished showering and re-dressing and all of that, rather proud of myself for what I saw as some nice planning, and the wonderful co-operation on the part of the Universe.
Only to get the shock of my life when I went to drink more tea before going out to shovel. The snowplow had plowed me in!! To this day I do not understand why it happened. The house had been around for many years, and my (red!) truck was in the driveway. So all I saw was my truck and this huge mountain of snow towering over the truck.
My first thought was unprintable. So was my second. No, really. They were unprintable. Followed promptly by a sense of panicpanicpanic. How was I going to get *out*? Even the snowblower wasn’t going to handle that mess, never mind a shovel.
Fortunately, I had thought ahead and asked the people who sold me the house, to leave me a list of local emergency numbers, for police, fire, town hall, pizza..all the important things. Bless them, they not only left me the numbers I needed, they’d left the community guide posted on the fridge!
So I grabbed my cell phone and called Town Hall. I spoke to the clerk and politely explained my plight. Bless her for not laughing. I then got passed around until I got to the person who could actually *do* something about the problem. But first, I had to get given the standard 20 Questions routine, and I rather politely stood my ground, until it was realized that, yes, I was right and they were wrong. Twenty minutes later, I was plowed out, and off to work I went on the driveway with my shovel and my salt.
Several hours later, my boyfriend at the time, came over after he got out of work, to check on me and ask if the snowblower worked all right, only to see a poorly shovelled and salted driveway, and me in my pajamas and slippers with my hands wrapped around a stiff drink. He wanted to know what had happened. He laughed like hell when I told him. I… was not quite amused yet.
He went out to run the snowblower. and always ran the snowblower for me after that. I was grateful.
Lessons to this story: 1. Find out what your fears are before you go diving off into the unknown. 2. Accurately assess your skill set for living in a new environment before you do it. 3. Don’t ‘should’ on yourself. 4. Be grateful, gracious and polite. It never hurts, and sometimes helps!
It started off for me with all sorts of dreams and promise, combined with precious little skill. My thought at the time was ‘how hard could this be’? It wasn’t long before I had my answer and started thinking that perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew. I had, after all, only arrived in town with a divorce decree, an elderly dog, an opinionated cat, a great big smile and a hope for the best.
What I’d really wanted, and had intended to have, dammit, was a Norman Rockwell-ian life for all of us. Me, cat, dog. Someone to love us as a package. My intentions were good, they were. And God knows I tried. I did. So, so hard. I wanted that fantasy in absolutely the worst way. Part of me still does. Only with more stability.
Right in that moment, however, I had a shabby little broken-down house on an overgrown 2-plus acre lot..in the middle of winter. I’d discovered that the place needed more work than I thought, and I had just then discovered that I was absolutely terrified of my snowblower, as I discovered it had whirring blades. Why I didn’t notice this before..no clue. Probably too busy listening to the boyfriend I had at the time expound upon the virtues of the beastly thing, while I envisioned cutting through huge drifts of snow like a hot knife through butter. That pesky fantasy thing again.
Fortunately, it is not illegal to be afraid of snowblowers, but I will tell you that it is damned inconvenient in the middle of winter in New Hampshire, and I can tell you that it’s really embarrassing to be afraid of lawn equipment when one is dating a contractor who, so far as I knew at the time, was afraid of absolutely nothing. I wanted him to be proud of me, and there I was, defeated by fear and a mechanical device. Let’s just fast forward through the nasty self-talk and say it was a moment being an asshat to myself.
So the first thing I did, once I was back in the house, was burst into tears. Big huge sobs of terror, embarrassment (because I felt I ‘shouldn’t’ be afraid of lawn equipment, but it turns out that I most assuredly am) overwhelm and not knowing where to start to ‘fix’ it all.
Once I got done crying, I got up to take a shower, thinking I would shower, get myself warm and reasonably together, wait for the snowplow to come through and then shovel and salt. That’s how I got through my shower, truly grateful that it was *hot*.
When I was in the shower, I heard a large rumbling noise outside. Figuring that it was the snowplow plowing out the cul-de-sac, I wasn’t at all worried, and finished showering and re-dressing and all of that, rather proud of myself for what I saw as some nice planning, and the wonderful co-operation on the part of the Universe.
Only to get the shock of my life when I went to drink more tea before going out to shovel. The snowplow had plowed me in!! To this day I do not understand why it happened. The house had been around for many years, and my (red!) truck was in the driveway. So all I saw was my truck and this huge mountain of snow towering over the truck.
My first thought was unprintable. So was my second. No, really. They were unprintable. Followed promptly by a sense of panicpanicpanic. How was I going to get *out*? Even the snowblower wasn’t going to handle that mess, never mind a shovel.
Fortunately, I had thought ahead and asked the people who sold me the house, to leave me a list of local emergency numbers, for police, fire, town hall, pizza..all the important things. Bless them, they not only left me the numbers I needed, they’d left the community guide posted on the fridge!
So I grabbed my cell phone and called Town Hall. I spoke to the clerk and politely explained my plight. Bless her for not laughing. I then got passed around until I got to the person who could actually *do* something about the problem. But first, I had to get given the standard 20 Questions routine, and I rather politely stood my ground, until it was realized that, yes, I was right and they were wrong. Twenty minutes later, I was plowed out, and off to work I went on the driveway with my shovel and my salt.
Several hours later, my boyfriend at the time, came over after he got out of work, to check on me and ask if the snowblower worked all right, only to see a poorly shovelled and salted driveway, and me in my pajamas and slippers with my hands wrapped around a stiff drink. He wanted to know what had happened. He laughed like hell when I told him. I… was not quite amused yet.
He went out to run the snowblower. and always ran the snowblower for me after that. I was grateful.
Lessons to this story: 1. Find out what your fears are before you go diving off into the unknown. 2. Accurately assess your skill set for living in a new environment before you do it. 3. Don’t ‘should’ on yourself. 4. Be grateful, gracious and polite. It never hurts, and sometimes helps!
When You Have a Wish
When you have a wish, it helps to be rock-solid certain of exactly why you have it.
For example, awhile back, I realized, or so I thought, that I wanted to be married again, and for all the so-called ‘normal’ reasons. It wasn’t for several years while I was oh-so-stuck in the mire of that belief, that one day I just stopped and realized that marriage, for those so-called normal reasons, was not really what I wanted at all.
The irony is that I had been peeking in the window of a jewelry store at the time, and had been staring at one of the most outrageously huge solitaire diamond rings I’d ever seen, and in that moment, realized that I didn’t _”need”_ what that hellish huge ring represented.
Without going into a lot of details, I realized that what I really wanted, I could actually have, in entirely different ways that were (woohoo!) entirely up to me, as opposed to being half up to some guy I wasn’t sure I had met, yet. I didn’t have to pine away for what I wanted. I could go out and make those things that I wanted, happen for myself.
That said, I still would like very much to be married, but it’s not nearly the imperative it once was. Instead, I can save marriage, and the journey to it, for its correct reason, and actually maybe enjoy the process towards getting there.
I started this blog, my coaching business, and my online business as the result of different wishes, that I can honestly say I am deathly certain of. Also, as a side wish, to create a decent standard of living for myself and for Lou.
Yes, the blog, the coaching business and the online info-preneurial business are brand-new and I am struggling with them. But they’re still wishes, slowly but certainly coming true by way of right actions (I hope) , and for the correct reasons.
Sometimes I get blocked, or scared as hell. Sometimes all I can do is look at the wall, or look out the window, and wonder what the hell it is or was that I was thinking when I elected to go into business for myself. Sometimes I am not what I teach and I’m a total asshat to myself, but I learned to forgive myself, learn the lesson from the experience, go forth and move on in a more confident way, mindful once more of my wishes, and more certain than ever that this is the correct path for me to take through life.
Until next time…peace.
For example, awhile back, I realized, or so I thought, that I wanted to be married again, and for all the so-called ‘normal’ reasons. It wasn’t for several years while I was oh-so-stuck in the mire of that belief, that one day I just stopped and realized that marriage, for those so-called normal reasons, was not really what I wanted at all.
The irony is that I had been peeking in the window of a jewelry store at the time, and had been staring at one of the most outrageously huge solitaire diamond rings I’d ever seen, and in that moment, realized that I didn’t _”need”_ what that hellish huge ring represented.
Without going into a lot of details, I realized that what I really wanted, I could actually have, in entirely different ways that were (woohoo!) entirely up to me, as opposed to being half up to some guy I wasn’t sure I had met, yet. I didn’t have to pine away for what I wanted. I could go out and make those things that I wanted, happen for myself.
That said, I still would like very much to be married, but it’s not nearly the imperative it once was. Instead, I can save marriage, and the journey to it, for its correct reason, and actually maybe enjoy the process towards getting there.
I started this blog, my coaching business, and my online business as the result of different wishes, that I can honestly say I am deathly certain of. Also, as a side wish, to create a decent standard of living for myself and for Lou.
Yes, the blog, the coaching business and the online info-preneurial business are brand-new and I am struggling with them. But they’re still wishes, slowly but certainly coming true by way of right actions (I hope) , and for the correct reasons.
Sometimes I get blocked, or scared as hell. Sometimes all I can do is look at the wall, or look out the window, and wonder what the hell it is or was that I was thinking when I elected to go into business for myself. Sometimes I am not what I teach and I’m a total asshat to myself, but I learned to forgive myself, learn the lesson from the experience, go forth and move on in a more confident way, mindful once more of my wishes, and more certain than ever that this is the correct path for me to take through life.
Until next time…peace.
Friday, January 7, 2011
A Little About my Vice Pawsident
Awaiting his Christmas bonus--catnip!
This is my Vice Pawsident, aka Lou. As far as I am concerned, Lou came to me as a tiny kitten- gift from the Universe, and one of the best ones I’ve ever gotten, at that.
I was at a particularly low point in my life when he arrived, but that mattered not to him, so long as I kept him fed, warm and dry. Even then, I almost lost him, twice. Lou turned out to be hypoglycemic.
A lot of people would have said that Lou is not worth an extra bit of trouble, but, he adds so much joy into my life that I happily give over the few extra minutes each day it takes to manage his condition, which basically amounts to making sure the food dish doesn’t run out and making sure he has some blankets to snuggle in so he doesn’t get cold–even in the summer!
Lou is quite unusual for a cat. He walks on a leash, he plays fetch, and he travels like a dream. His downside is that he’s opinionated as all get-out, and is very picky about whom he will socialize with, be they of either a two or four-legged persuasion.
Lou has taught me rather a lot about trust, love, and how to deal with asshats.
Hooray! I Figured Out Some Social Media!
I admit it. I am not a full-on tech head. Not by a long shot. I like to think I’ve put in the dedication and the ass-time (aka, sitting at the laptop and trying to not tear my hair out in frustration) to finally start grasping some of this stuff. A little. There’s just so much of it. It’s akin to culture shock.
It’s frustrating. It’s sometimes a little scary. But I know that if I want to reach the people who want to learn what I have to teach, I have to do this. That thought is what keeps me from throwing in the towel. That, and the thought of going back to a ‘real job’ and having to leave my young, fun, mind-bogglingly creative and occasionally naughty Vice Pawsident, to get into mischief all day is not that appealing.
It’s frustrating. It’s sometimes a little scary. But I know that if I want to reach the people who want to learn what I have to teach, I have to do this. That thought is what keeps me from throwing in the towel. That, and the thought of going back to a ‘real job’ and having to leave my young, fun, mind-bogglingly creative and occasionally naughty Vice Pawsident, to get into mischief all day is not that appealing.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
I Love You, but..
Clear communication in a partnership. It’s what everyone I know claims to want, but so few actually get, never mind actively practice themselves. This used to amuse me. When I used to hear the goings-on in the lives of some of my friends, I would laugh, because I could see the issue coming out of someone else’s mouth, but I couldn’t see past the end of my nose on my own issues in this arena until one day it dawned on me that I really needed to change the way I communicated with people in general. All that said..
I love you, but…” is a phrase that in any of its forms, drives me straight up the wall. However, I am getting to the point where I can just chuckle and ask which, exactly the person making the statement really meant to say. The ‘I love you’ part, or the ‘complaint’ part?
You either love someone wholly or you don’t. There is no halfway. Halfway, is exactly where ‘I love you, but” is at; it’s about leaving someone doubting exactly where your focus is. Is your focus on loving that person, foibles and all, or is it on what I will call here, for my purposes, the complaint du jour? Make up your mind already and communicate accordingly. When you love someone say so. If you have a complaint with someone, say so. If you find you can’t stop complaining to or about that person in terms of the relationship, find what the _real_ problem is and fix it already!
It’s ok to (nicely!!) say to someone, ‘you know, sweetheart, I would appreciate it if…’, and it’s ok to say “sweetheart, I love you’, or say, ‘This relationship is over and here is why.”.
Saying two things at once, along the lines of, “Sweetheart, you know I love you, but I would appreciate it if X could be made to happen.” or, “You know I love you, but unless you do X, I’m leaving you.” dilutes the intent and power of any of the messages above, and further, dilutes your credibility when you do say “I love you”.
How could any sane, rational person believe a declaration of love, followed immediately by a complaint, or the threat of the ending of a relationship?
If you practice dilute communication, and you’ve taught your partner that you practice dilute communication, you can believe that your partner is not hearing the expression of love in your statements, so much as listening for the verbal slap or complaint that you’ve taught them is coming, so that they can formulate a response, and that response just might be loaded.
For example, two people are in relationship, and one says to the other,”I love you honey, but must you continue to smoke? Don’t you know how unhealthy that is for you, me and the kids?!”
Now, switch that around to the point of view of the person who is hearing that come out of the mouth of their partner. Do you think they’re hearing love in that line of questioning? Oh hell no. What they very well might be hearing is ’just bitching’ for the umpteenth time, feeling very picked upon and wish it would just stop already, and chances are, the party feeling picked on, will say something to that effect, and the next step is an escalating move towards a fight.
It’s a safe bet, that, in the end, that either party would fail to feel feel heard or loved in that resulting exchange, as well as in the presumable fight. Either party might justifiably feel verbally slapped, un-heard, and rejected, and all because of a poor reaction to what they heard coming from someone who claimed to love them.
That cycle of mis-communication and poor focus will continue in future relationships of any and all stripes, because the Universe is more than happy to continue to teach lessons that people just aren’t grasping. For example, you may have children and do an “I love them, but..” or, “I know she’s the mother of my children, but…”or somesuch on top of “I love you, but..”. So on it goes..and this is definitely one of those situations where ‘what comes around, goes around’, until the lessons are learned about the power of love, the power of words, the power of intentions and what can be created with them, and you *stop* diluting what you mean by what you actually say, vs. what you really mean.
Until next time..peace.
I love you, but…” is a phrase that in any of its forms, drives me straight up the wall. However, I am getting to the point where I can just chuckle and ask which, exactly the person making the statement really meant to say. The ‘I love you’ part, or the ‘complaint’ part?
You either love someone wholly or you don’t. There is no halfway. Halfway, is exactly where ‘I love you, but” is at; it’s about leaving someone doubting exactly where your focus is. Is your focus on loving that person, foibles and all, or is it on what I will call here, for my purposes, the complaint du jour? Make up your mind already and communicate accordingly. When you love someone say so. If you have a complaint with someone, say so. If you find you can’t stop complaining to or about that person in terms of the relationship, find what the _real_ problem is and fix it already!
It’s ok to (nicely!!) say to someone, ‘you know, sweetheart, I would appreciate it if…’, and it’s ok to say “sweetheart, I love you’, or say, ‘This relationship is over and here is why.”.
Saying two things at once, along the lines of, “Sweetheart, you know I love you, but I would appreciate it if X could be made to happen.” or, “You know I love you, but unless you do X, I’m leaving you.” dilutes the intent and power of any of the messages above, and further, dilutes your credibility when you do say “I love you”.
How could any sane, rational person believe a declaration of love, followed immediately by a complaint, or the threat of the ending of a relationship?
If you practice dilute communication, and you’ve taught your partner that you practice dilute communication, you can believe that your partner is not hearing the expression of love in your statements, so much as listening for the verbal slap or complaint that you’ve taught them is coming, so that they can formulate a response, and that response just might be loaded.
For example, two people are in relationship, and one says to the other,”I love you honey, but must you continue to smoke? Don’t you know how unhealthy that is for you, me and the kids?!”
Now, switch that around to the point of view of the person who is hearing that come out of the mouth of their partner. Do you think they’re hearing love in that line of questioning? Oh hell no. What they very well might be hearing is ’just bitching’ for the umpteenth time, feeling very picked upon and wish it would just stop already, and chances are, the party feeling picked on, will say something to that effect, and the next step is an escalating move towards a fight.
It’s a safe bet, that, in the end, that either party would fail to feel feel heard or loved in that resulting exchange, as well as in the presumable fight. Either party might justifiably feel verbally slapped, un-heard, and rejected, and all because of a poor reaction to what they heard coming from someone who claimed to love them.
That cycle of mis-communication and poor focus will continue in future relationships of any and all stripes, because the Universe is more than happy to continue to teach lessons that people just aren’t grasping. For example, you may have children and do an “I love them, but..” or, “I know she’s the mother of my children, but…”or somesuch on top of “I love you, but..”. So on it goes..and this is definitely one of those situations where ‘what comes around, goes around’, until the lessons are learned about the power of love, the power of words, the power of intentions and what can be created with them, and you *stop* diluting what you mean by what you actually say, vs. what you really mean.
Until next time..peace.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I Love You Anyway
There are a number of people in my life whose viewpoints aren’t necessarily always congruent with mine, nor mine with theirs. However, we do have enough common ground, or so I would like to think, where we have acknowledged where our views are not similar. We have laughed about it, and commented, sometimes rather awkwardly, ‘That’s ok, I love you anyway.”
I was thinking about this phenomenon this morning, and started to wonder if that were, in fact, true. What is really being expressed in those moments? I’m not so sure it’s love, unconditional or otherwise, in either word, deed, or thought, when it comes to those awkward moments we all experience sometimes. The phrase ‘I love you anyway’ gets used as a neat cover for other emotions, or as a cover for what someone really wants to say, but, for whatever reason, is neither felt, nor said.
In the course of my thoughts, I noticed, too, that as an adjunct to ‘I love you anyway’, that there are a lot of ways that the expression ‘I love you’ is mis-used as well; frequently in the same ways, or at least parallel to, ’I love you anyway’. To complicate matters further, I have actually said and heard ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you anyway’ in mis-use, in the course of the same conversation, back before I made the decision to get involved in personal development.
Taking a page out of the book of my story: Many years ago, I borrowed the van of my (then) fiance, because I needed to take something or another to the town dump. While at the dump, I bumped a post with the van and did not, at the time, realize that I had done so.
To further complicate matters, after I made my drop-off at the dump, I took the van to the local shopping center, to complete my errands for that day, before bringing the van back to my fiance. I noticed the damage while parked at the shopping center, and surmised that someone had hit the van while I was doing my shopping. Being me, I promptly went to three different body shops to get estimates for his insurance company, which is how these things were done at the time, according to local custom.
When my fiance got home from work, I explained matters as I understood them to be in that moment. After I made and ate dinner with him, I handed over the quotes from the body shops, and I can only assume that he had our respective insurance companies take care of the matter from there, as I don’t remember anything ever being said to the contrary.
With the information I had at the time, I had done all the right things. I was party to an error being made, and I took my part of what I thought I was responsible for, dealt with it appropriately, and moved on.
Well, the next time I went to the dump, I took my car. Upon entering, I saw the paint the same color as the van, still on the entry guidepost. I was embarrassed. I did not know what to do, and so, figured the wisest course would be to just keep my mouth shut and just ignore my embarrassment.
A few months later, as a young newlywed, my new husband and I were watching Arsenio Hall on television, and the subject of the evening was confessions. I don’t remember the whole conversation that ensued between my husband and I, but, I will never forget blurting out, with tears running down my face, what had really happened to the van, that I’d discovered after the fact.
I was so full of apologies, finally ending in a whole sobbing meltdown with a very teary ‘I love you’. When what I really meant was a reiteration boiling down to ‘I’m sorry for not being as good a driver as I thought I was; I’m also terribly afraid of your reaction.’
Now, my (then) husband, was not the most demonstrative sort of guy at that point in his life. So, as I recall it anyway, he adopted a completely straight face, went dead silent for a time, and finally said to me, a very stilted, “I love you anyway”. From there, as I recall, he up and walked away, still stone faced.
I can tell you that in that moment, I sure as hell was not feeling the love he had just professed, and I’d have been willing to bet that in that moment, he wasn’t exactly feeling the love I’d professed, either. How I wish we could have said what we really meant, to one another. I wish I could have adequately (not to mention, rationally) expressed my embarrassment and my fear, although ridiculous, that he would leave me for putting a small dent in the van without realizing I’d done it. I wish he could have expressed whatever it was that was going through his mind.
I know that similar sitcom-worthy scenes occur in other relationships as well, and I feel that the emotions behind the ‘I love you/I love you anyway’ split are really a bid for attention, affection, understanding and forgiveness. How sad that is, when one thinks about it.
How do you feel that discussions or relationships as you know them, would change if you stopped using ‘I love you’ or ‘I love you anyway’ as a cover for uncomfortable emotions, or an unclearly commununcated bid for attention, forgiveness, understanding, etc.? How would your conversations change if you swapped in what you really wanted to say? What emotions or thoughts surround this exercise in thought?
I was thinking about this phenomenon this morning, and started to wonder if that were, in fact, true. What is really being expressed in those moments? I’m not so sure it’s love, unconditional or otherwise, in either word, deed, or thought, when it comes to those awkward moments we all experience sometimes. The phrase ‘I love you anyway’ gets used as a neat cover for other emotions, or as a cover for what someone really wants to say, but, for whatever reason, is neither felt, nor said.
In the course of my thoughts, I noticed, too, that as an adjunct to ‘I love you anyway’, that there are a lot of ways that the expression ‘I love you’ is mis-used as well; frequently in the same ways, or at least parallel to, ’I love you anyway’. To complicate matters further, I have actually said and heard ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you anyway’ in mis-use, in the course of the same conversation, back before I made the decision to get involved in personal development.
Taking a page out of the book of my story: Many years ago, I borrowed the van of my (then) fiance, because I needed to take something or another to the town dump. While at the dump, I bumped a post with the van and did not, at the time, realize that I had done so.
To further complicate matters, after I made my drop-off at the dump, I took the van to the local shopping center, to complete my errands for that day, before bringing the van back to my fiance. I noticed the damage while parked at the shopping center, and surmised that someone had hit the van while I was doing my shopping. Being me, I promptly went to three different body shops to get estimates for his insurance company, which is how these things were done at the time, according to local custom.
When my fiance got home from work, I explained matters as I understood them to be in that moment. After I made and ate dinner with him, I handed over the quotes from the body shops, and I can only assume that he had our respective insurance companies take care of the matter from there, as I don’t remember anything ever being said to the contrary.
With the information I had at the time, I had done all the right things. I was party to an error being made, and I took my part of what I thought I was responsible for, dealt with it appropriately, and moved on.
Well, the next time I went to the dump, I took my car. Upon entering, I saw the paint the same color as the van, still on the entry guidepost. I was embarrassed. I did not know what to do, and so, figured the wisest course would be to just keep my mouth shut and just ignore my embarrassment.
A few months later, as a young newlywed, my new husband and I were watching Arsenio Hall on television, and the subject of the evening was confessions. I don’t remember the whole conversation that ensued between my husband and I, but, I will never forget blurting out, with tears running down my face, what had really happened to the van, that I’d discovered after the fact.
I was so full of apologies, finally ending in a whole sobbing meltdown with a very teary ‘I love you’. When what I really meant was a reiteration boiling down to ‘I’m sorry for not being as good a driver as I thought I was; I’m also terribly afraid of your reaction.’
Now, my (then) husband, was not the most demonstrative sort of guy at that point in his life. So, as I recall it anyway, he adopted a completely straight face, went dead silent for a time, and finally said to me, a very stilted, “I love you anyway”. From there, as I recall, he up and walked away, still stone faced.
I can tell you that in that moment, I sure as hell was not feeling the love he had just professed, and I’d have been willing to bet that in that moment, he wasn’t exactly feeling the love I’d professed, either. How I wish we could have said what we really meant, to one another. I wish I could have adequately (not to mention, rationally) expressed my embarrassment and my fear, although ridiculous, that he would leave me for putting a small dent in the van without realizing I’d done it. I wish he could have expressed whatever it was that was going through his mind.
I know that similar sitcom-worthy scenes occur in other relationships as well, and I feel that the emotions behind the ‘I love you/I love you anyway’ split are really a bid for attention, affection, understanding and forgiveness. How sad that is, when one thinks about it.
How do you feel that discussions or relationships as you know them, would change if you stopped using ‘I love you’ or ‘I love you anyway’ as a cover for uncomfortable emotions, or an unclearly commununcated bid for attention, forgiveness, understanding, etc.? How would your conversations change if you swapped in what you really wanted to say? What emotions or thoughts surround this exercise in thought?
Sunday, January 2, 2011
You Can Choose to Change
Maybe you’re like a lot of people (but, if you’re here, I kind of doubt that) walking around in the world as if your consciousness itself were a sludgy semi-awareness of being in the world, just getting through this thing called life. Some people slog through life like that, just fine.
On the other hand, you could be practicing what I refer to as the sarcastic definition of insanity, which is doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different result, and wondering why that change never comes.
For some folks in active practice of the sarcastic definition of insanity, however, there is this little voice inside that says, ‘Hey, there has to be more to life than this’, as they look around and aren’t overly thrilled with what they see has been created.
I’m here to tell you that little voice from the part inside of you that wants you to live your life differently is going to keep nagging at you until you make the choice to wake the hell up, pay attention, and make some changes already.
That’s where I come in. I’m not here to change your mind. However, if you’re amenable to making some changes in how you act, and how you think, well, you’re in the right place. Welcome, and Namaste.
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