Looking Forward and Back. Truth. Perspective and The Unforseen Costs of Caring

A friend of mine got banished by the powers of Facebook again. I know because he's wise enough to have a back up account. Was it bots mindlessly flagging and checking his posts? Was it a silent troll smiling as they reported memes for whatever small reason? Was it an algorithm, and why do I wish I had paid more attention to algorithms in school now?
Does it actually matter?
I take this small external situation and use as an example. My friend had a back up plan and a good sense of humor. He's already moved on even though it keeps happening. He does sometimes post over the top memes, but the intent is shock comedy.
One of the biggest frustrations I deal with is myself. I give too much, I try too hard. It has happened when I finally can't or choose not to; the individual or individuals I gave so much to and did so much for don't want people to be aware they were abusive or apathetic at best.
There is no good part of a bad relationship and even after it's over you keep paying for it. You pay because even as you work on yourself, even as you grow, even as you take responsibility on your shit- they're still out there like bots on Facebook quietly influencing the perception of others. You wonder sometimes when people you were friendly with become distant, but the minute you say anything it somehow confirms whatever crap they've spread.
No one asks. They believe what they want to believe.  Think about the Facebook banishment. Similar situation a year ago, and a different guy I knew started harassing and threatening legal action at a friend. He was convinced she was stalking him and silently reporting his every post, even though he blocked her. She didn't want to think about him let alone have anything to do with his posts. People who didn't like her and wanted to believe the Bad Stalker Story did, regardless of the truth- that she wanted zero to do with that guy and stalking him was the last thing she'd ever willingly do as it would mean she had to look at what he was posting. Truth didn't matter to the people who wanted to believe the worst.
Back to today:
My biggest frustrations come from trying too hard, helping too much and paying the price as my efforts didn't help me but helped people who were self motivated to use what I offered.
A good friend told me this past summer "You have too many asshole friends." He was right. I've been weeding and paying more attention to who I share time and effort with. Spring cleaning my friends, keeping the real ones who give a shit, ask questions, reciprocate. Letting go of users, manipulators, false friends.
Too many real, shitty memories I don't get to escape from to tolerate having someone claim friendship and in the same breath downplay or excuse abuse.

2017 also taught me the worst liars are quiet. They are opportunists. They pick who they sling their shit to. If you eat it, it's on you. People who don't like the word integrity, often don't possess it.

It's a new year. I am working forward, like my friend who had a back up plan. I've been working on my fiction, making jewelry and learning silk marbling. I'm preparing for a fabulous spring. I have a future to build, a sincere and fantastic guy to build it with, a fictional raccoon, and a growing Kitten. I'm going to be more conscious of who I help and how.

People will believe what they want to, regardless of the truth, regardless of their experience. We get no say in what people believe, but we can keep focused forward and moving forward.

May 2018 be the year you hope it is. May you buy Fuglyware and the excellent coffee partnering with Fuglyware. May you come marble silks with us. Maybe you'll come watch me tell stories on stage. Maybe we'll all find a reason to smile, laugh, and appreciate each day.

#fuglyware #2018goals

Changing the Colors in Your World

I remember my childhood. Bright red tulips, a black well cap in the back lawn I sat on and cried. I remember being spanked because I picked that tulip one day. I carried it to the neighbor and tried to sell it to buy my mother a gift to make her happy. Red tulips became a symbol for anger. How dare I pick that precious flower! Accusations of doing it to destroy her pretty flower. I was too young to know irony when it fell around me in tears.

Desolation deeper and darker than the well. My mother screaming at no one in the house while I held my only friend, a small struggling confused barn cat seeking solace and love from that little fluffy kitten who really wanted to run off and practice hunting mice. Shuffling between three of my great grandmothers, who did their utmost to buffer me from life at home.
I remember fear. I never knew what would set my mother off. I remember trying so hard to be worth loving. I remember my great grandmother Alice telling me that she loved me and that what was happening at home wasn't my fault.
For many years I struggled with emotional wounds and scars. Sometimes hurting others to try to get approval or out of frustration as I watched my mother lavish love I could not earn on my brother. I remember the one time she was loving and gentle. I had been playing at a neighbor's house. I was about four years old. I made a slide out of a large cardboard box my neighbor and I wrestled onto a chair. I fell off and got hurt. I was bleeding profusely. The neighbor almost took me to the hospital. My mother took me home instead fearing that it would trigger a neglect or abuse investigation, because that's the priority. She held me, rocking me in a chair until the bleeding stopped. I remember the two times my Father held me I was three and then six. Both times were to remove stitches from my face, cheaper than going back to the hospital. Priorities.
My best friends in childhood were books and barn cats. I spent most of my time alone in my head wandering the brighter worlds created by authors, wishing the characters were real. Wishing for friends as my intelligence and slight autistic characteristics isolated me from cruel teasing classmates.
I started working the summer before seventh grade. I worked at a kennel and babysat. I spent hours working a hose to spray dog turds off the outdoor runs, grooming poodles and teaching them to walk on leads. I earned the money to pay for what I wanted rather than get hassled over wanting clothes that weren't always hand me downs or ugly clearance rack leftovers, books, toys, candy.
As I got older I grew into treating others the way I wished I had been treated. A neighbor girl and I were playing. She accidentally dropped and broke a toy I loved. She cried. She tightened up waiting for the storm and fury. I closed my eyes and thought of Alice. Alice with her soft hands, sweet heart and garden full of flowers you could tend and pick and share with smiles. I looked at the younger girl and took her hand. "It was an accident. It isn't worth as much as your friendship is to me." We both cried. It was how I realized she also came from a world with dark places in it. We picked up the pieces and as we did, we colored each other's worlds brighter.
In college, my friend Nathan was always there. Listening. Caring. Fearing he could end up breaking down with schizophrenia like his mother. He could only be a friend in my heart because I was afraid my dark places could hurt him. My past comes out in bursts like little rainstorms. Gentler as years pass, body trembling from emotions I can't always express. Nathan, Francine, and Mary brought their bright hearts full of colors. Their humor, their resiliency, their humanity were the paintbrushes they used on my heart. We did silly things. We walked St. Bonaventure every friday night around midnight as I worked on climbing every tree I could on campus. They and others joined me on this eccentric quest. They begged me not to prank campus security by swinging in the trees by the roads toward the vehicles going by so I did it more. Thankfully, none of the guards had heart attacks when they saw someone apparently flying out of a tree toward their vans only to vanish as I swung back out of the roads and dropped into the woods to melt away into the night. I was a ghost story.
Each year my life expands. The connections with other people grow. The stark colors get tempered with shades and blending. I communicate more, letting others help me see and let go of dangerous fragments still stuck in places my scarred heart cannot always see. I think of Nathan finding me sitting catatonic outside the Science building after my first real love after several intense secret dates told me he could never love me because I was an Atheist. I don't remember walking to my room. Nathan quietly looked out for me, always on alert and always there when the darkness rose. He would just sit with me. The lone soldier without a gun, manning the wall alone. Eventually my words would come back. He would reassure me that everyone wrestles with something. He would nudge my humor until it rose up and became the tool we both used to fight the darkness.
He taught me that I had strength, that the years of fighting myself alone had given me tremendous power. I realized I could use it to help him, and my other friends. My inner demons were relentless and harsh; I could step into other people's hearts and face theirs without breaking a sweat or shedding a tear. I could step between the boogeymen and the people who were teaching me what healthy was. I could keep them safe at cost.
It cost because it pressed on wounds, emotions flowing without healing.
It took years to learn to let go of the armor. To let go of the weapons. To be the gardener nurturing my heart and the hearts around me, discarding dangerous creatures lurking in the garden rather than wrestling with them or trying to bring out the best in them. Put a bow on a copperhead and you still have a dangerous snake.
Regardless of how much you love, you cannot heal everyone. Each of us has choices. We decide what is or isn't in your world. We color them with perspective and emotion. We determine our focus and attitude. Reaching out to healthy friends for perspective is the first step. As the holiday approaches, on the darkest day of the year, my thoughts are of you. I appreciate each of you and how you change the colors in my world bringing vibrance and light with your presence.

Wherever you are today in your world, I offer you my paintbrush. It's a little tattered and beat up. It has been used as a sword more than once. The colors on it are bright. Your world should be full of laughter, appreciation and beauty. So, let's get painting!

A Real Gift

I am not a Christmas Elf. I have worked as one. It's not my favorite holiday for many reasons.
Irony, this year to have a microburst drop a pine bough 40 plus feet through the roof of our carport tent. We were underneath it and were lucky to be unharmed when the 14 foot long branch came straight through the roof nearly spearing our crockpot of bean soup. Christmas tree delivered whether we wanted one or not. We used comedy to deal with it, and an extra tarp. Then, to have a complex story game I loved stolen by an ex through chance- specifically to be hurtful, only to have several friends who could empathise surprise me via paypal enough to make it possible for me to replace what was stolen.
Speechless. Usually, I pick through my friends and go through what I have and send of what gifts I can; because I choose to. I try to give what I can especially if I know a friend is having a rough year.
I am not used to receiving. I am used to giving. It changes the feel of the season. It turns it into something that can be beautiful.

Got spare time? Spare food? Spare toys?There are soup kitchens and other options for volunteering from caroling to giving toys to Toys for Tots.

How are your friends faring? Reach out. Depression and Christmas are a tough combination. Share laughter, share good memories. Make new friends. Make more beautiful memories. Seriously.

Instead of investing in the most expensive yada yada, why not invest in each other?
The best gifts are memories. The memory of our crazy divebombing tree will be the most priceless Christmas tree memory.

The memory of volunteering to work Christmas and cook dinner and play card games with psych. residents who had no families back when I worked at a group home was my best Christmas ever. I remember one resident, a grizzled guy we will call Teddy, asking me repeatedly as we checked the turkey why I was there and not with family. I remember finally pausing, after many joke responses and saying; "I am here because you all are here. Because together we can have a great holiday, however we choose. If we want to throw out the turkey and eat ice cream, we can. If we want to play card games and stuff ourselves on leftovers we can. We can have a great day here together regardless of what the rest of the world does." And we did. Three years I worked there, he and I played card games often as I was trying to help his neurons build pathways around the damage done by an aneurysm he survived in the 60s. His short term memory did not connect to long term. He knew my face. But I was Barbara, George, Herman, Isabelle, Sarah, and if he was angry the names became bad puns- Not So Mary, Missy Witch etc. I taught him behaviors to negate the temper flares he had until the memory of being upset passed. I taught him not to stress about what he could not recall. Behavior and repetitive patterns to implant new information where memory could not lose it. If you brush your teeth every morning, eventually you do it without thought. That was our process. Slow. No one had seriously worked with him, he had been shuffled for years between programs.
Three years I beat him at Rummy, putting all the cards I needed to score with gradually in the discards out of sequence. That night was the night his brain was finally able to connect them. That night he won.
The memory of the look on his face when his thoughts connected. Nothing wrapped in paper or topped with a bright bow will ever top that look. I have never been so happy to get trounced at a game. The next week, for the first time- he remembered my name. He never lost it. Just after that I was promoted to a different site and was gone. I left the agency shortly after that, disliking how they approached mental health. They seemed more interested in having clients than in helping people heal.
Almost twenty years later I realize, Teddy gave me the best gift. He was working on healing my heart as much as I was working on his mind. It was a holiday free of expectations, free of moods and attitudes, it was just a pleasant day.
I hope that in your life you are lucky enough to have someone like Teddy change your world for the brighter. I hope you let them.

The Always Never Trap

Stress can be good or bad. Eustress is the fancy dress up name for positive stress. Getting a promotion, planning a vacation, versus negative stress which we all know about and occasionally shake our fists and frown at.
Stress adds up. Emotional stress is subtle. It can be corrosive. You are juggling a million things and then someone says something or does something that hits you wrong. You have a day or week where things seem to slip rather than fit.
You find yourself in the all or nothing trap unaware that you've hit the spiky bottom.
Hurting yourself through internal overly critical black and white assessments that inaccurately represent you or how those around you perceive you.
Emotions in the way of neutral accurate perception. Everything is wonderful becomes everything is terrible and why am I alive? I can do anything becomes I am a total failure. Stop. Stop right there.
You are wrong about something. You are not a total failure. You can choose to step back, let go of the pain and self defeating internal dialogue. Reach out and communicate. Get reality checks from healthy supports. Take a walk. Work on a pet project. Do something for someone else. I think of the over 60p.people who participated in the 5K Zombie Run for a local children's charity in Muskogee. Laughing, dressing up as zombies and in fun rainbow ridiculous running tutus and seizing life as they dodged the zombies and helped a charity. Nobody there was always or never, all or nothing. I listened to runners cheer each other on, watched groups encourage and support each other as they aimed to try to 'survive to the finish line.'

Find something that gets you laughing and takes you out of your internal self trap. Put things back in perspective.
Remember your accomplishments, the goals you are working on and what you are working toward. Give yourself a break.
Be aware of your language internal and external. Absolutes are absolutely the last thing that belong in healthy self talk.
Start watching for signs of the sneaky trap. What triggers do you have that set it up? Lack of sleep, anxiety, vitamin or mineral deficiency, social isolation, finances, communication issues, emotional scars that flare up?
When you catch yourself slipping, how can you change how you say? Take ownership and problem solve. When this happens I feel like ---. Communicate with those around you "I am feeling rough today, and ask for help."
Do not assume no one has time for you. Do not assume no one cares. Do not assume you are worthless or a failure. Do not assume!!!
If you aren't communicating clearly- even if all you can manage is to say "I am in a bad head space" or "I am not communicating well" people are wrapped up in their own life juggling and may not catch the silent signs to reach out to you. Whatever has hit the all or nothing switch- although it feels insurmountable, it will pass and eventually it will be small and ridiculous in the rearview mirror of your life.

For today, take care of you. Attend to how you talk to yourself and what words you use in dialogue with yourself and those you love.
Quit beating yourself up over life lessons and focus on the reasons you can choose to smile and grow. 

Living in a Country of Glass Houses

Several beautiful friends have written elegant Facebook posts to raise awareness and empower the greater community facing derision and furtive attacks from folks who feel the Slingshot of Judgment will somehow sanctimoniously get them some sort of reward. I remind myself often that you cannot make someone who chooses to be blind and deaf to reality change. You can offer perspective and hope that it hits a chord.
So today, I write this ballad.
Years ago I volunteered on the county's mental health crisis hotline. I was the lone professional stooping down to offer my free time at first. I took a call from a girl who knew she was a girl except there was a piece that did not belong. She thought she was broken, that something was wrong with her. She had tried cutting it off. My heart broke for her. I gently explained transgender. I was the first person to tell her the only wrong thing was her body goofing up its sexually expressed genes. She became less distraught as we talked, realizing that she wasn't a freak or alone. That she could have support and go through medical treatment to get the piece that didn't belong removed, that she was one of many that deal with transgender reality. When I went to the monthly meeting for volunteers it was eye opening. They had stood by outdated value systems until I went over that call. Regardless of their backgrounds or beliefs- every volunteer understood where that caller was coming from, none of them wanted any human being to feel so outcast or alone. They all listened. Transgender was new to them. After that call, that tiny county changed how it handled calls. I never knew anything about her except her voice. I hope she's smiling and that her world isn't a dark one anymore- it never should have been.
Going back further, back to when I was six. I was rambunctious. I was a small child. I loved swinging wildly on my great grandmother's macrame plant holders. I collided with the corner of a wooden table. I was in the emergency room, they had just done stitches. A teenage neighbor, a strong girl, she was there too. I had just been released from restraints. I was still in fight and panic mode. She calmed me down. She was a role model in a life full of screwed up ones. She looked sad. I saw she had just gotten stitches too. On her wrists. I asked what happened. Her mother cut in and said she broke a glass washing dishes and it sliced both wrists. Odd that the cuts were neat. Odd that the girl had an expression that shouted the words were a lie. I understood. My mom made up shit all the time. CPS was the boogeyman she would terrorize me with.  People acted like there was something wrong with the girl. The same people who begged for lies and platitudes. The ones who chose to see the two mothers as shining stars rather than scrutinizing the abandonment and emotional abuse beneath. Our struggles were different but we sat there islands that for a moment were not alone.
Years later, I heard she went to Canada and married her girlfriend. Last time I saw her she had smile lines. I hope she is still smiling.
Working in mental health I walked through the hearts and minds of those broken and struggling to find a reason, struggling for balance.
The refrain is the words of Little Billy, whose parents sexually, emotionally, and physically abused him. "I just want to help people. I want to be worth something. I want to save them. I want them to look at me and see a hero when they needed one." The hero he never had but imagined and wished for. I understand why Baum wrote Wizard of Oz. Billy was my Dorothy. His fractures could never fully heal due to limited IQ. It did not stop him from trying. He never quite understood how he was a hero to some of us on staff. He could never defeat his demons, born with both hands tied genetically behind his back. If he is still alive, he is still trying.
If only we all had his fortitude.
People shout judgements at each other. Slap labels and toss derogatory jokes like grenades with the surprised "why are you offended" reaction when you call them on it. Why aren't we teaching tolerance, empowerment, and cooperative team building? Empathy is in a drought, hate is the scent on the wind.
Who pays the price?
Unfortunately, the stones get thrown wily nily based on Memes and attention seeking headline teasers. Shots of venom to cloud the judgement; first round is always free. You pay the price in integrity.
Today, take a moment. Let go of stones. If you are going to pick up a stone instead of throwing it, try rock sculpture or perhaps putting it gently back down in respect for the millions who struggled with their personal demons and lost. The suicides. The victims of hate crimes. The victims of senseless violent crimes. Those who fought against diseases and were defeated.
For them, reach out and be open to caring for the amazing people fighting battles in their heads you have no right to judge. They are the stars that shine in my sky that inspire me to connect and keep reaching.

Ease Up

A bad mood curls around your neck and shoulders. You become prickly, agitated, and pressured like a summer storm. How did it develop? Gray clouds of overly critical self judgement, frustration at perception of self limitations you feel you should be long past, the internal evaluation where the interactions with others are distorted by past scars.
You catch yourself running tight circles in a ring, snorting like an angry bull tired of being led and used, ready for a tranquil grass carpeted field. Then someone reminds you to breathe. You look around and realize the arena is in your own mind. You are surrounded by love and kindness, people who encourage problem solving, goal setting, positive motivation. The people around you mirror what you feel and how you deal.
Relearning the shape of relaxation, easing up and letting healing and life happen at their pace. Relieved to be in a place where I can Ease up.
No matter how strong you are, if you live constantly tense and exhausting yourself, then you run out of strength and you fall. Pushes forward are frustrating wrestling matches with yourself, even where we blame someone else: it always comes down to us. The choices we make, how we perceive, how we react. Us.
A good friend said recently "You knew your choice in the relationship you were last in was not healthy: it's why you never asked any of us closest to you about it. You dealt with what you needed to, you're talking again, so you are making healthier choices."
Silence means there is a raging inner dialogue, where analysis and emotion are trying to reconcile with perceived reality. Neither one is particularly good at driving, both certain they are, and unfortunately, life tattered their road map. Instead of pushing them to figure it out, I am learning to work on figuring out a better map for them, letting it be easy like a sunny summer day. Blue skies, no rumbles and no unexpected rain.

Freedom is Gold

The Superstition Mountains are best known for the Legend of the Lost Dutchman's gold. A miner came to town boasting of a big find, with a chunk of gold to lend credence to his words. He died before anyone could get the exact location of the hidden gold mine. People have searched for over a hundred years, some dying on their quest for the lost gold. There are tourist sites in Apache Junction that recount the legend and offer the actual history. You can visit Goldfield, a ghost town that used to be an active mine. The Superstition Mountain Museum, Lost Dutchman State Park, Peralta Trail, Weaver's Needle, Apache Trail, Canyon and Apache Lakes, and Tortilla Flats are some of the golden nuggets you can enjoy as you explore history and desert.
The Superstition Mountains tower about four thousand feet above the desert valley. I have hiked to the highest point, I have hiked them in rain, snow, and at night by flashlight. I have watched lizards, seen petroglyphs,  and marveled at the forests of cacti. Sat in the night watching traffic at night in Phoenix. So close to the city but remote.
This year I arrived lost in my heart, soul heavy with sorrow, searching for myself and a direction. I went with the wind, except the aspects of my life that were burdensome stayed with me despite hopping planes and changing names and lives. I kept coming back to the desert. I kept going back to the mountains. There is an ancient indian myth of a white lightening woman who came from the sky and toppled the enemies attacking the tribe from the mountain. A spirit of a woman protecting a peaceful farming tribe, her legend set in my heart. She was their freedom.
I watched sunsets. My thoughts and feelings were the loudest sounds I heard, overpowering the night calls of crickets and coyotes. I was not happy. I felt diminished, stressed, helpless. I did not feel valued by the person closest to me and when I expressed this it was to receive ridicule and rants. Like the desert scavengers, I was surviving. I felt a kinship with the bold coyotes and the ranging ravens. If they could survive I could too. My choices were not helping me heal but they seemed to help my significant other. He needed help to live- I could be strong enough to survive that, couldn't I?
Golden light setting the cholla on fire, the fierce warrior  becoming desert royalty wearing a crown of sunset with robes of peach, rose, and wine colored clouds. Each night the clouds silently danced in different colors and patterns. Would you miss the beauty in their graceful performance? Many evenings I watched their performance and it gave me heart even when my emotions were drowning me. The sunsets circle the sky rather than only occupying the western side. It is impossible to avoid exclamation at times, the beauty stretching to see if it can outdo prior exhibitions. The best antidepressant is a moment of gentle beauty.

At Fish Creek Canyon, I played in a waterfall that would be gone in a day, just a black mark trailing down hundreds of feet of mountain.  I felt the ice cold water and wondered about the choices I made.
Listening to the wind, I felt it move through the canyons. Life is a series of paths, sometimes we reach a point where we find our best, healthiest option is change.
Wind, rain and ice wear the mountains down gradually. I have camped on primitive land in the Superstitions in years past, the mountains quietly stand. They've let me lean on them before when my life was heavy with change.  They call me to climb and explore, or was it the Lightening woman calling me? Was it her nudging me to chase myself down trails, around cacti and through washes? Such an irresistible curiosity, renewing my energy and spirit. More trails, sunset vistas, my feet kept going forward. Swimming in ice cold Canyon Lake, I realized life was a path and the one I was on wasn't right for me. I could change. I could be free!
I could stop letting someone dictate my life. Each of us is responsible for ourselves. I was surrounded by beauty, and if I chose to stop letting a toxic person paint my world I could heal. I became myself on the morning I drove away, freshly reborn east of Phoenix.
To me, the Superstition Mountains are freedom. Many die lost in the Superstitions, some fruitlessly searching for gold even now. I found myself there, found the audacity to pursue my heart, to reach past anxiety to strive for my dreams. I call that gold. 

Shaping Yourself Whole

Think about your beliefs, judgments, interaction styles. Who shaped them? Are they healthy? Do they ease your journey toward your goals or do they contribute by placing barriers, conflicts and negativity in your path?
Wander back into your childhood memories, good and bad.
"This place better be clean when I get home." The "or else" unspoken but likely a combination of psychological, physical and emotional abuse.
Respond quickly to questions with offers of information and assistance. If no one responds quick enough the negative comes like a thunderstorm.

Often, my childhood was being a mine detector learning tools to defuse emotional mines and suffering the scars of failures.

A lifetime later, I still find the programming of my youth winding around my emotional feet tripping me up and stressing loved ones.

I look forward to the day when my mind and heart finally acknowledge Stand Down.  I look forward to the day that I am not scanning constantly, feeling obliged to calm and prevent the emotional storms of others. I look forward to the day the anxiety gets laid to rest for good. Not buried waiting to rise from the ground like a horror movie monster, gone.

The combat Vets I worked with at the VAMC always asked where I served in combat. I didn't. We didn't talk about it. They nodded. They understood. We each have our scars and demons to fight.

I sit thinking about mental and emotional architecture within each of us. The importance of stability as we address the pillars of who we are and how we interact with the world. The words of others that impact who we become, the sorrow that often the wrong words and voices etch deeper than the healthy ones.

I look at what I need to address. The anxiety has been with me since before I could speak. My words came out a smeared mess of consonants and vowels. I have a strong will and years of practice at preventing it from disabling me. It is past time I confront it fully. I can confront it with the present, with truth, with breathing. In the past, this diminished the influence.

I am allowed to choose whether or not to communicate. Other people are responsible for their actions, choices. My thoughts, feelings, actions and choices are my own to have and make without someone lurking with an emotional or psychological bomb.
If an old trigger gets hit, I can choose to pause. To walk away and let it go rather than fall into a defense pattern.

What old patterns are in your architecture that hold you back? What excuses do you use to shore them up? What motivates you to move forward and shift into healthier ways of thinking and feeling?

No one will ever be perfect. We learn from our mistakes, sometimes, we learn from the mistakes made by those who shaped us. We do not need to choose to hurt ourselves or others now because someone thought it best then.

Insert Catchy Motivational Phrase Here

There are easily a thousand motivational phrases. All right and all wrong. What you need to hear may not make it through the radio static of life. Stress comes and goes like a tide. How we perceive and feel regarding events impacts our well-being.

We learn more from our mistakes than we do from our successes.
Last night I stared under the hood of our van staring at the parts. I know some of their names, can monitor fluid levels and jump batteries. I felt frustration well up. I grew up in a mechanic shop. I spent my time spreading sand on oils spills, taping windows for paint jobs, handing tools to my father and the other alcohol sodden mechanics. They were the best babysitters. I behaved for them because I liked the intricate puzzles of metal they labored over. I asked questions until I fully grasped that I wasn't going to get answers. I was a girl. I wasn't supposed to like engines. I wasn't supposed to learn and being a four year old I respected my elders. I feared getting sent to more sitters who yelled, ignored or bullied me. I should have remembered: I ended up at work with my father because the babysitters kept losing me. I hid from them, escaped from them, made a regular mockery of their attempts to supervise me. I still feared being sent to another mind numbing trailer with moronic shows blaring on a cheap television.
If only minds had been open. If only generations of gender roles had not been so strong in that small town. When I got older I worked at a different tree farm. My family wouldn't hire me as "What would people think of we had women on our construction crew?" At the Cooperative, they thought I was a highly skilled, knowledgeable, hard working member of their propagation team. My rooting rates were remarked on. No one blinked at my gender. They did remark on my colorful vocabulary.
My mistake was acquiescence. I grew out of that. Mostly.

I am not comfortable feeling helpless. I am not comfortable feeling like I'm failing. Is anyone really, or do some just put a better mask? My best and worst attributes come out. My demons circle and whisper louder than thunder. It seems like I'm arguing when I'm listening and arguing to get more detail to better equip myself to deal with myself and situations more effectively.

I've been learning. When these situations arise to stop. Focus forward. Problem solve. Think about past lessons. Think about specific friends and situations that remind you to maintain perspective. Find something to ground with, something to work toward.
Who are your supports? Whether they know it or not, take a moment to reach out of your head to check in on friends. Be there in their moment. Give their voices and conversation a chance to work it's magic. There really is nothing like a smile, friendly voice, a gentle hand on your shoulder, or a focused hug.

Many challenges I navigate through are never expressed aloud. Most come from within. It is humbling to realize you are your best support and worst enemy.

This year I had to face the reality that I cared too much for someone who echoed the worst voices in my head. I let their words enhance the destructiveness of my own shadows. I reached a point where I faced myself. I chose to heal. To grow and to listen to the healing, growing, positive voices instead. I chose to invest in myself. If you don't invest in you, if you do not value you, why would others?

I prepared for Shades of Faerie, nervous about my stories and the event. Taylor Grant and Joshua Safford are amazing storytellers. Would My stories be up to muster? Would my character? Preparing for the event, dealing with last minute details the unexpected happened.

I've spent a lifetime mastering flexibility and acceptance. Make do could be my motto. The guy who was going to do video capture couldn't do it. Omar and I were running errands in Tulsa. He broached the idea of picking up equipment and doing video. It would cost us, but it would be an investment. Initially, an investment in my character and career development; also offering us the option of being able to do video work and other projects. Investing in me, investing in him, investing in us.

The show went well. Compliments and performance awards were given to all three of us for the show.

I think about that often. I've been the one investing in me. My great grandmothers, my grandfathers did before they died. Their investments were emotional. This was a financial investment. From the time I got out of sixth grade, I worked. I made my own money. I bought my own clothes, books, toys. I paid my bills and expenses and played every sport well, got top grades. My parents focused on my siblings. They invested in them.

Having someone invest in you gives you a profound feeling if it's something you are not used to.

Who invests in you? What do you acquiese to? Should you?

Each day is a new day, life is challenges and triumphs. Tragedies and comedies in situations and circumstance that chain from second to second. Finding a way to learn from both in part of being human.

Words Have Power

Each of us has words we associate with experiences and feelings. Rain can bring rainbows or thick mud and brown days. The scent of an Apple pie cooking can be soothing. The sound of peepers at sunset singing for rain may lull you to sleep.

I've lived with words I avoid. Words who bring dark boxes I've put in locked corners of my mind back to the forefront. Like venomous snakes slithering somehow through cracks back out along the edge of perception until an unknowing person innocently drops one like a grenade into the conversation. I physically wince like ice cream hit a nerve in a broken tooth.

The word Joy. It means happiness, exuberance. It was my mother's name. She had a wonderful public mask she strived to be believed as being. She still does. She chased and earned the adoration of the community and my siblings. I was the unwanted child. She had wanted a divorce and an abortion. Face and public opinion were more important. I paid. Those who got close enough saw through her and were there for me. When her bipolar symptoms went unmedicated and she used child protective services as my childhood boogyman, it was my great grandmothers who intervened. She screamed in an empty house as I cried outside hugging reluctant kittens and wondering why life was like this. Joy. Joy screaming. Joy hostile hitting where it would not leave a bruise. Joy threatening to kick me out, so I'd live in a barn or have to pay rent at my own home as a teen. Joy screaming threats when I was asked out by a boy at age 16. Joy intensely telling me how stupid and worthless almost daily for most of my childhood. Joy that my siblings were wanted and oblivious and my father was spineless. I was alone in an unreal reality. No matter how much I achieved I couldn't become valued. The word Love was a weapon wielded just before an emotional net would be dropped and tormenting psychological games would ensue. I learned to hide. I learned to survive. I learned psychology. I learned avoidance. I learned to strive. I learned to ensure. I learned I wanted more than to exist in a world with that kind of Joy. 

That is what Joy was. 

Not anymore. I disowned my parents years ago. I ran. I've crossed the country dropping baggage at each beautiful place and with each achievement. The shadow of the past always had a feeling of dread. These horrible unhealthy people would force their way back into my head. Then I realized they cannot. I pick who is in my heart and in my head. I'm not running anymore. Their baggage is gone. There's no feeling left. Joy doesn't hurt anymore. 

Joy is a beautiful day with friends. Joy is a feeling of happiness after a great achievement. Joy is a purring kitten held close, the sound of bluebird on a sunny day, the shared shenanigans of silly side jokes. Joy is what I make it. Its my choice.

I'm digging through the old boxes, I'm releasing the snakes out of my head. They were not anything to be afraid of.
The part of me that gave them power was and it's long past time for me to own that.

What do you have locked in your head? Have you taken the time to look again and reassess? Take the power out of the larger than life villains, see how pathetic they become in the light of grown up life.
Leave the baggage in the past and see where tomorrow takes you. 

What Matters Most

Days rush past like a boat caught in a strong current. Time seems to race itself, bringing sunsets before anticipated. How could days slip by so swiftly, distracting us with details.
Cactus are starting to flower, the beauty of a vivid flower rainbow on desert hillsides. Golden blooms on Palo Verde trees turn a red, brown and green landscape into a golden soft world one could slip away into full of whimsy and light.
What have I accomplished today becomes who have I enjoyed time with? How many moments spent with friends as we grow, heal, laugh, play and share each other's struggles. Of only we could see ourselves with the eyes of our loved one's hearts, how different we would see ourselves. All the little details which warp and look in our minds and hearts would shrink back down and vanish in one long concentrated look.
We keep chasing sunsets, visiting various parks and trails to compare sunset landscapes and spend time with various friends. Who today? Where today? Why not today?
Plans to be made, tasks to be done before heading out to my next gigs, and time to live and enjoy just being.
Each day has a to do list, each day should also have a time to live list- without time to love. It is important to appreciate what you love whether it's sunsets or stand up comedy; swimming or reading our health and mood suffer when we are under negative stress and they suffer even worse when we don't balance the negative with positive.
The desert blooms, Spring wears her loveliest dress and amidst busy days we try take the time to appreciate her before she races into Summer.
May you notice the nuances of beauty around you, the artworks, statues, flowers and people you meet! May they appreciate you as well!

Immersed In Sunset

I am on a plane, headed west. The sun started setting as we climbed above the clouds. Listening to relaxing sounds I watched the warm peach, pink and gold tones fill my window. Soothed, my eyes closed. A half an hour later, I was surprised to notice the clouds colors were just as strong. I began to watch, taking breaks to let emotions go, to see them glide like little weeks through the window next to me and into that breathtakingly vast beauty. I thought of friends, letting go of all the frustrations from what I can't change in their lives. I took time to think of their gifts: shared memories, moments, and wisdom. Time passed slowly as it does in the sky.

In my meditation I stood on the wing of the plane, watching the dark little birds gracefully vanish from my heart into the light. I felt the coolness of the rose and gold tinted clouds. The wind went through me, cooling and refreshing.

I did not look back. I looked forward. I remembered how far I have come. The scars I have earned are badges of bravery, foolishness, pride and fear. I acknowledged them. I let them go as well, unravelling like a ribbon back into the darkness, eventually tumbling away.

The sunset lasted over two full hours. Golden, pink, vibrant and full of beauty. I was amazed how few looked out and saw. Most people were wrapped up in phones, laptops, tablets or books. It was like being alone on an island in the sky.

I shed silent tears when emotions came strong. I let them be, just be. Like letting an agitated cat run until it tires and you can calm it. I focused on them. The positive, the negative I just felt for a while. They grew faint, and after I acknowledged them and heeded their communication I shared memories with them that gave them reason to calm. Like a child in a fairy tale singing a feisty Dragon to sleep. Quietly, discretely I tended my heart. The plane was full of people, focused on their worlds while I appreciated the gift sunset was and worked on my inner world.

They say mastering your mind is the hardest task. I disagree. I think for some handling the heart and irrational feelings is far more challenging. Others struggle with being in tune with their spirit, discomforted by the enigmatic, powerful aspect that motivates us to see beyond our own existence: to be aware and consider the wellbeing of others as well as our environment and our connection to it.

Two and a half hours, periwinkle has joined the sunset circle, confident yet shyly hiding the terrain below. Music, binaural tones, nature calls blended together with the sunset colors. My last focus: on everyone below. To be grateful for you, for how far you have come with the burdens you have chosen to carry, to send out the hope and prayer that you have what you need, that you have laughter, friendship and health. I sent up prayers that whatever you all believe, that you all treat each other as human and worthy of respect and compassion.

The next time you are caught enraptured by an incredible moment, I entreat you to live it fully. Appreciate it. Let what is retune you, and return you to yourself.

The pink is almost gone, sky mostly blue grey now. Three hour sunset. What a sight! The plane is slowly descending, shortly we will be on the ground. I will be able to curl up at home tonight, content with my significant other. I will be able to hear my cat do his squeaky purr and wrestle with him. I will hear Gracie make her little night noises. I will hear the coyotes at night, the quail, doves, and myriad of other birds that come to visit Bruce and eat the seeds he offers them in the morning. Tomorrow I will see and hear friends. I live in today, not yesterday. I'm excited about tomorrow but today- today is always when I am! What are you looking forward to? What makes you smile now? Do you have goals or accomplishments to energize you?

Unexpectedly, I found the second I missed New Years. That second was a sunset that lingered for three hours.  Happy New Years everyone! May your year from here forward be full of unexpectedly amazing moments. May you appreciate and share each one.

Who Feeds Your Monsters?

There is a Native American parable about two wolves, asking which wolf is stronger. Which is stronger, fear or courage? The one you feed.

Our minds are virtual worlds we dwell within. On the outside there may be little or no sign of what is really going on in that inner world. There can be great beauty, serenity and healthy forests as well as vibrant gardens. There can be tome after tome of experience and knowledge that we've gathered. Our emotions dwell as ephemeral creatures there. Pure, incredible and each completely different. Elation moves like a feather on a gentle breeze becoming sometimes a leaping deer excited by the freedom to run or a pack of coyotes excited by the anticipation of a tasty meal. Not everything is tranquil. There are places it is better not to tread without the right gear.

There can be scars leaving vast deserts, dangerous shale cliffs that look impressive but may slide us back into scar country. There are monsters as well, darker emotions and thoughts that stalk beneath the sand and water of day to day waiting for the right moment to lash out and reopen wounds we've worked to heal. These monsters in your head are disheartening and exhausting to face. You do your best not to feed them, you build trust with others to let the light in, to weaken their influence through forgiveness, compassion, and love.

You do your best to be aware of them without triggering them, handling them like an old crate of dynamite which has come to life. Part of you feels shame that you can't simply get rid of the damn beasts. You think you've shooed them out, cried them out, fought them out, forgave them out but they spring back to life like a vampire in a B movie. You don't always know how they got there, you can't undo or unlive the scarring that drew them in to feed. You didn't know you were feeding them, until you got older and wiser.

You may have stopped feeding them.

Then they come back. Who is feeding the monsters in your head? It is important to be aware of who you allow in, who you allow to influence your heart, your mind and your body.

Often, without realizing it, people feed the monsters in each other's heads. Some people become living caricatures of their inner inner demons losing themselves rather than fighting. Others disconnect in various ways to maintain stability in their uncertain inner world.

Do your friends and loved ones communicate with you out of love? Do they honor you? What motivates the friendship you have, is it healthy or destructive? Is it real? Do they feed your monsters? Do they even know you well enough to know what you face? Do you know their monsters, do you help them resist and neutralize them or do you feed them?

Which wolf is stronger? The one you feed. The one that our perception of circumstances and the influence of verbal and nonverbal communication combine to feed.

Real, healthy friendships help us face these thoughts and feelings with compassion rather than recriminations or negativity. Believe me, we know how frustrating and disheartening it is to have them rear their heads. It's worse than peeing your pants as a small child in front of a group of people. Humiliation only feeds the monsters. If you want to help, to be a strong, healthy friend, be honest and aware. Be aware of body language, words, and of triggers. The most amazing thing you can do, feed our strengths, feed the thoughts and feelings that combat the monsters. Feed our love, self esteem, self worth, our trust. Affirm what is or what we can heal and grow into being.

The worst thing someone you trust can do is use your monsters for their own agenda or be insensitive to our struggles. Imagine being injured while the people you love and trust do not seem to notice. How would you feel?

Today, consider your friendships, consider the quality of relationship you have with those around you.

Are you feeding their monsters, are you manipulating them into a place where old behavior and thought patterns reemerge wreaking harm?

Are you feeding their inner hero and guardian? Are you planting seeds for a beautiful, healthy person tomorrow? There is nothing as powerful as a truly caring friend in that inner world.

Many people struggle with their monsters  inside without ever giving a word to those around them when they need support. They fight and feed, get exhausted then just feed the monsters in a spiral of self destructive judgements. Be aware, be attentive, and be forgiving, take the time- real friends are worth it.

Today, I ask, who feeds the monsters in your head? Communicate. Express how you feel and what you perceive. If you don't, your friends may not realize they fuel an inner hell. The hard part is, you care for friends and family but they may wound you deeper than anyone else because you open up to them, they may not even be aware of the damage they do- so caught up in their own day to day inner worlds.

Remember:

You are beautiful. You are strong. The past is past. You won before, you can again. Mistakes are accidents we can learn from. You CAN pick who you allow into your inner world, choose wisely.

Focus on how far you've come. Plan actions to heal you, reach out and do what brings a smile back. Even if it starts out weak and tentative. Find something to laugh about. Come up with your own inner mantra, words and images you can use to pick what your emotions feed. Forgive yourself. Get outside your head.

 

A Little Help Can Change The Road You Are On.

Our past can be a road map for our future. We tend to pick roads that look similar to the ones we've been on. Partly out of habit, partly because we are comfortable dealing with what we've already faced. Potholes, washboarding, lack of signage. We wonder after a while why or how we got on the same road we thought we put behind us. We clutch that map. We keep using it.

When we are really ready to change we look at that map. We take note of the landmarks. We turn to our friends and say "Hey, if I keep on this road- could you call me on it? Could you give me a carrot to chase or nudge me toward other roads which might be entirely unfamiliar but past due for me to find?  I'll do the same for you!"

We get caught on roads with deep nasty ruts. Revving and revving and wearing ourselves down. Habits die hard. Friends want to help but social etiquette goes around the needed constructive communication and just plays the "Yes man Enabler Song" on repeat.

I'm not your Yes man. I maybe be your friend, ally, student, teacher, healer, fool but I won't be your Enabler. I'm not going to talk you into another donut, twenty shots at the bar, or condone jackassery.

There's enough real shit in this world that needs addressing. Communicating honestly, brainstorming, we can be the mirror for our friends and our communities. Together we grow, heal, and have a remarkable impact. Alone we could be exhausting ourselves with good intentions but not enough amplification for even those who love us to hear.

In Africa there is a saying "It takes a village to raise a child."

The truth is, we all need support. The support of your village, your people is healing. Your mind shifts and your roads shift with reaching out and being reached. Healing goes both ways. We never stop needing our village, it needs each of us to be healthy as well. Mental health is hard to maintain in isolation, people need people.

What is your map like? How many times have you driven the same road? What keeps you there? If you broke a pattern, how?

Who is part of your village? How do you treat each other?

If you find yourself in a nonsymbiotic position, what can you do to change the road you are on?

Important questions for a healthy tomorrow.

Hurry up and wait!

Life seems to have a sense of irony and timing. It's terrible about communicating with us. It drops heavy twists when we least expect it and usually when we've got a set of expectations nudging us forward.

Hurry up and wait. Wait and heal. Choose how you interact with the world. Do you treat those who support you like troops you constantly grind down or do you surround them with the lightness and warmth they give you?
Who do you surround yourself with? Do you find yourself around superficial friends or by friends who honest and sincerely care? Do you recognize the difference?
If you find you've gotten into patterns of griping, who takes you there or encourages you to be in that headspace?
When you've got plans but health and life say you've got to be in one place why not use that time wisely?
Why not practice a new language? Why not find new places to explore? Why not make beautiful memories for cherished amazing friends? Why not appreciate the support and care?

Often when we need help we are discomforted asking. Yet, thinking about it: when a friend, a stranger, anyone asks us for help we appreciate being given the chance to do what we can.
We've earned love, nurtured supportive relationships, we give. We give love, respect, stories, entertainment, experience, ideas, and gifts with our friends who choose to give back to us in lessons, resources, love and memories.

The hardest part of waiting is using the time to follow through on lessons we've been offered rather than lose ourselves in distractions or mental pacing.

So hurry up and wait! Take some time to walk through your head and heart space. Tend your well-being. Take a moment to notice where your words show you to be, look at changing them for healthier paths. Walk a labyrinth, color a Mandala, meditate, tell a joke, look for a moment of beauty.

Contradictions and Crossroads

I still see the yellow line even though I'm not driving, it streches through my thoughts with caution signs. Caution: sharp when irrate, easily distracted, stubborn, self reliant, distant, restless.

My head fills with questions as I drive:

Why do hotels claim to have free WiFi when their signal is a suggestion of false hope, vanishing whenever you notice it at the edge of your screen?

Why are we so contradictory?

Why do we claim to care for each other, the environment, and what we eat- while devouring deep fried artificial meals with enhanced flavor to hide the lack of taste as we finish with a benediction about how some group meeting a specific description is actually the ultimate villain of all time necessitating destruction, prejudice and punishment?

Who made us the judge and jury?

Why do we have to fight over what words in old books should structure our lives and our self judgements? Why can't we focus on living and teach children to step away from judgement?

If your ancestors were persecuted and forced to follow a different religion, why are you so loyal to it? Stockholm syndrome?

Why are some people so determined to become enraged at the idea of taking the power in this country away from the 1%? If you aren't in the one percent is it because you think some day you could be?

These thoughts and a thousand others go through my head. If you are offended, why- you do not have to think them.

I'm not going door to door spreading my inner musings, nor am I set on harassing you by sharing shock style, offense evoking memes on your page or to your email. Incidentally, I have had other do those things to me then call me names via email because I don't argue with them.

  I don't post my beliefs to your wall or your email. I don't name call. If you've got to do that, you've got First world problems. You post for prayers, I politely use your preferred terminology to show support.

I've got memories of the dead. I've got memories of the living who are beneath you, around you and often avoided. The discontented, the imperfect, the different, people with stigmas who are actually incredible. Arrogance is cocaine, ego is alcohol and prayers are prescription pain killers. Denial is heroin.

I've got priorities. Food, shelter, friendship, love, my health, the health of those around me, the environment I'm in. No blame, no resentment just what can I do to enhance the world I'm in.  To meet needs and wants as best I can. Go without the frills of wants for several years and your mouth tastes like ashes when you walk into a consumer wallet sucking store full of everything you will never need. Selfies are fostering a new type of narcissism.

Why go to a beautiful place to stare at yourself?

No store sells love. No store offers contracts on self esteem or guilt reduction. No store carries discipline on its overstocked shelves between smartphones that think for you so you can live numb with the drugs and the sports and the petty tabloid dramas that titillate.

I can't go into a loan officer and say, what work can I trade you for that guy's health back?

Why isn't there an easily accessible way for students to go and get help when there are conflicts with colleges- why is it always on the student when in all other business deals there are easy to find advocacy and mediation organizations?

Why do we focus so much on the unimportant trivia and so little on the real priorities?

What are we going to do with all the excessive unnecessary smartphone cases? Are we going to use them as roofing tiles?

Even if you discount my musings:

The next time you start to stereotype in your head, stop.

The next time you have an intolerant reaction, pause and put yourself in their shoes.

It's not about being right. It's about being.

Why hate?

I put on different faces, different names so often that I've learned you can believe in anything for a while. You can love and adore it from cars to philosophies. You can put it down and walk away.

Take what you need. A friend emphasized finding the merits in all perspectives rather than focusing venom on the points to distort and feed hate.

I change every day. I'm the same but different, like everyone else I'm full of cobtradictions but when I chase down irrational beliefs and thoughts I create a crossroad. I move beyond them, leaving them with their toxic treasures and their thumbs sticking out.

The world is too incredible, life is too short. I'm still seeing the reflective paint guiding me forward but I'm not afraid to park and walk outside the lines. Are you?

A Birthday Wish

We all have one, once a year, whether it is momentous or quiet. We all age, second by second and day by day. We grow into ourselves, our faces develop lines reflecting our character and our relationships reflect our hearts, while our paths demonstrates our spirit.

How do we become? Some like caterpillars do it without thought, effortlessly creating a cocoon then blossoming to a thousand smiles.

When I was young I was blessed with three Great grandmothers. They were Great. They taught me what love was and that it was not my fault that I was what I was. It was still hard. Sometimes I had to go home. I told stories to myself of what love and care really should be, I created excuses in my heart to dampen the wounds from those closest to me. Those stories got me through a childhood full of emotional traps, spiderwebs and sorrows. I lived a thousand lovely fantasies in my head.

I never chose to become something subtly cruel. I could have easily. It was modelled for me. I could have set emotions aside, they're awkward anyways to carry around inside. I could have become my father's daughter, finding happiness in trapping and killing animals.

Instead I found the person I wanted to be through looking outside my home. I looked in books, fairy tales that inspired because the hero faced darkness around and within but perservered to go beyond. No guilded edges, stories with sharp glass and death. Stephen King 's Cycle of the Werewolf, the Stand, Hans Christian Anderson, the Illiad. Light reading when you aren't yet ten. The heros resonated, their characters called to me. They sang "Who do you want to be?"

People ask "What do you want to do, what would make you happy?"

Odd question, I think. What makes me happy is making the choices to live, to care, and to be who I've become despite the shadows that will always roam in my head and the scars that will always pattern across my heart. I consider those scars like the patterns on the wings of butterflies. My spirit burns as an intense lightening, capable of light and destruction. Each of us has this struggle.

Today I stand at a Vista looking back. I've come a long distance. I am humbled and honored by the shapes of the hearts around me. I am blessed by thousands of glowing, growing hearts. My spirit dwells in a beautiful circle of love. If you could all see it the way I do: you would see yourselves as flowers, trees, mountains and golden plains, with a few volcanoes too. I am an ocean, tide going in and out. Just appreciating the view and honor of being in your presence.

Today I grow older by seconds and minutes as always, but in my thoughts today are every single one of you. You are the richest gifts. Today, my birthday wish is that you treat each other well, you treat yourselves with love- because I love seeing you radiant and nothing is finer than that.

Are you stuck?

I just made myself shudder. If you are stuck, it is inventory time. The word inventory brings to mind a large retail store with a never ending checklist and tedious cataloging. I'm not referring to that kind of inventory.

Part of the human condition seems to be struggling against our own inner demons, the parts of ourselves that critically observe and paint the details of our spirit in the harshest tones and most painful lighting. To many of us our defects and deficiencies are glaring and they overshadow our perception of ourselves. Let me frame it up for the rest of you. Pretend that three friends are standing at a lookout point, looking out across the mountains. Two friends are looking at the beautiful view, enjoying the pine scent in the air and the sweet birdsong. The third friend is stuck in the car looking for their shoes, only seeing the cluttered mess of the car, the check engine light glaring, and the stink of french fries that fell in the crack between seats. The third friend is still at a beautiful place, but can't get out of the car to appreciate it. In their mind they have to put their shoes on, then their mind gets distracted by other negatives and they spend their time trying to fix the car. Sadly, they're trying to fix the car without the right tools in the wrong place.

Golden Gate Canyon State Park, Inspiration Point View

Do you find yourself being that third friend quite often? Listening to your friends talk about all of the places they have been, the adventures they have had, while you have tried so hard to go forward while you are running in place?

Inventories are tools that you can use to monitor yourself. When you are looking to make changes, to go from the person stuck in the car to being the one out ahead of everyone on life's adventures an inventory creates a map for you. There are many types of maps. Different inventories come together to give you a complete picture. Diet, exercise, nutrition, sleep, behavior, mood can all be monitored. You learn a lot about yourself through self monitoring. You can identify things you want to change. You can see patterns emerge from food sensitivities that affect behavior to triggers of negative behaviors and thought patterns.

Instead of the pity train and the nobody loves me song; try setting goals. Stop basing your emotional state and self worth on the words of others. If you have trouble remembering your positive moments and achievements, start tracking them. Start journaling on the positives in your life. Break out of the negative cycle. I'm not saying go into happy delusional denial, we all need to tune in, speak up and become active in shaping our communities and how we interact with the world. It isn't like there is a back up world that comes out after we screw this one up for someone's 'killer' profits.

Sounds hard? Sounds tedious?

How about goal setting? What do you want to do with your life? Picture yourself at age 90. Talk to yourself, what would you tell you to go do? What experiences would you want to be able to remember?

Observation Tower View, Outside Rollinsville Colorado

Give yourself direction. Do you want to visit a desert? Do you want to pick fruit fresh from the plant? Do you want to have an apiary? What shows, concerts, and entertainment venues do you wish you could see? What places have you put off traveling to see? What foods have you never tried? In your heart, what experiences would make you smile when you wake up?

What experiences would motivate you to step beyond that messy, cramped car? What holds you back?

Danny Lord enjoys the view on Flagstaff Summit outside Boulder Colorado

When we get into a negative mindset, we become overly critical of ourselves. We punish ourselves and sometimes resent the people who do not seem to have the same struggles we do. Misery loves company, and in our minds we find ourselves wanting them to 'pay' for being free. That is backward. We should be reaching out to them saying "throw me a rope, I am stuck." We should be learning from them and appreciating them. They've won a battle that we fight and lose ground to every day. Perhaps because they never chose that fight, they never fell into the trap we are caught in.

On a cloudy sunday, I ask you to do one thing.

Do something today that brings a real smile, a true laugh, and creates a memory that you will be glad to have when you are 90.

 Set your fears, self recriminations and judgments aside; life is too short to spend it stuck in one little box. You are the only person who can make the choice to get out and live, you are the only one who determines how you see yourself, how you feel about yourself, and how you see the world. The rest of us can tell you the vistas are beautiful, that you are incredible and worth loving, but you make the choice whether to listen or tune us out.

Indian Paintbrush at Sunset

Mud Pies and Magpies

Colorado has magpies. Beautiful black and white birds, they look like they are prepared to go to a formal event. Tricksters and opportunists they observe and call out in a variety of voices as if they have a hundred other birds songs caught on a secret recorder that they play back to amuse and astound.
I enjoy bird watching. The wheeling buzzards and turkey vultures, the darting little wrens and sparrows, the watchful hawks and owls sitting on branches waiting for mice to move below them. Once I even saw a nighthawk sitting on it's nest. On another occasion I heard the woods fill with the echoing song of Whippoorwills on a Missouri summer night. There is nothing so wonderful as observing nature as it is. Not interfering, not shouting or making loud noises. Not even talking, just sitting and letting life happen around you as if you were a stone or a tree. There is a peace in such observance. Our own petty distractions and illusions fall away. There is what is, the made up stuff vanishes in the sounds and scents of the real world. It is humbling to realize how much of what we focus on and invest our energy in is not even real and does not really matter in the long run. In a hundred years it will not matter what any of us thought of each other. Political views, religious views, even life choices- they will not matter and they will not be remembered beyond generalization.

The sounds of nature are incredible. They surround and soothe. The sounds of animals going about the rituals of life regardless of the head games and complications we like to add to it. The frogs singing for rain, singing for mates. The crickets with their steady beat, keeping time with the sound of the wind through tall grasses and leaves.

Today I head into the city, my significant other continues to rest and heal. I become three different fictional people for a few hours, I do work on contract. I act out a role and fulfill a contract. The work is easy and enjoyable. It is observing others as they work. Allowing people to do their jobs and to take a moment to observe a slice of their lives. Just like when I go out into the woods and watch nature, only I am observing people in an urban setting instead. The same peace and sense of wonderment can be found. The same appreciation for the brighter aspects of watching people be their best, as they go through their every day lives.

It is about being more than what we have chosen to be in the past, to be mindful of the world, respectful of each other. As parts of Society chooses to atone or at least acknowledge past wrongs, we should not turn and attack each other because apologizes and acknowledgements begin offering closure on violent and negative parts of history. We should not hide or try to edit the embarrassing mistakes of the past away; they are the scars that remind us to choose more wisely, more considerately in the future.

Sarcasm is the latest way to excuse ignorance. When a poisonous comment is noted for being inappropriate, the latest excuse is "it is Sarcasm, aren't you smart enough to tell?" No. Sarcasm, when used properly is understood and appreciated. You can't claim sarcasm after you parade your ignorance and toxicity for all to see and read. It is like hitting someone with a baseball bat, then claiming you were killing a mosquito on their head. Seriously. There is a time and place for humor.

Perhaps instead of attacking each other over our differences, it is past time we let go. We stop trying to be little Emperors and Bully Boys. Other people have the right to their own choices in their own lives. It does not matter what we think of them, it does not matter what they think of us. Sit out in nature and listen to the crickets, frogs, birds. Watch the squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits go about their lives. Even with your presence they continue going about their lives. The squirrels may loudly complain you are invading their space. Other than that, the animals go about their lives leaving you to go about yours. Take that lesson and apply it to Social Media, social interactions.

In nature no flower resents another for its color and appearance, they grow and they bloom.

When I was a child I made mudpies on rainy days. Soppy cold water, grainy mud full of pebbles, and whatever random container I could find. No one really wanted them, no one ever ate them. This was always known, yet on rainy days it was fun to make them. It was fun to decide who each one was for. No one ever shattered the illusion with negativity or venom, yet now with the advent of Social Media people cannot wait for the opportunity to verbally slash at each other. Sometimes I post things just to see what angles people will attack from, to see if reason or emotion will be the instigation of ridicule or antagonism. They both come up about 50/50. Both are used to justify behaving like a spoiled teenager on social media. It has become apparent that while we as individuals appear to have maturity, on social media we can be less mature than the teenagers who's behavior we try to shape. They see what we post. They see how we choose to live. We aren't the best role models. We turn them to shopping when they are sad or hurt, eating when they feel lonely, feeling bad about their bodies if they aren't a perfect size two, feeling impotent as politicians continue to be inept and apparently beyond their control.

Time to make mudpies and to go out into nature. Time to relearn how to express our maturity. Time to demonstrate our growth, time to heal each other. Time for us to choose to observe each other at our best, to hold that and continue to respect and treat each other well despite what we were taught.

Today, I have the honor of enjoying part of three people's lives and witnessing their appreciation for the work they do. What are you doing to grow today and can I make you a mudpie the next time it rains?

When was the last time you went out walking, just to look at the moss? 

Colorado's State Flower, Columbine - When was the last time you went in search of wildflowers? 

In a circle all are equal.