Random thoughts and silly questions.

A man has every season while a woman only has the right to spring.   ~ Jane Fonda

I took this picture this morning from my front porch.  The sky looks like April.  It’s an early spring for sure.  See the Bradford pear tree in full bloom on the left.  If this is early spring can late winter be far behind?  Suffice to say that our heaviest, deepest snows have fallen in March in this part of the country.  Beautiful, hard-to-navigate snows.  Time will tell.

I don’t like American football for a number of reasons, the biggest one being the damage it does to the bodies of the players.  But sometimes a football story catches my eye and my heart.  The Colts have dumped Peyton Manning after years of dedication to the team and the extended team family in Indianapolis.  He cried as he met the press.  Bless you Peyton.  I know exactly how you feel.

Andy Borowitz is an American political satirist.  I love this quote about the Republican primary:  “The only thing that is scarier than Mitt Romney not believing anything he says is Rick Santorum believing everything he says.”  All I can say is “amen,” Andy, and is this the best they can do?

Chely Wright is the first openly gay country music star.  I saw a clip of her appearance on the Ellen show.  She’s a charming young woman.  She has written a book called Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer.  She also has a recording entitled “Like Me” which is a love song to another woman, her partner I think.  You can listen to it here.  The decidedly not silly question, then, is:  Won’t it be nice when gays can be who they are and will no longer have to feel different and ashamed and think there’s something wrong with them?

Somewhere in the New Testament it says we must forgive someone seven times seventy.  (Forgive me if this is not correct.   I’m relying on memory.)  I’m wondering what that means.  Do we have to forgive one incident that many times?  Or do we have to forgive that many incidents?  Do you forgive easily or is it like pulling teeth?

One last question–What does the Jane Fonda quote at the top of this piece mean?

Ego–his, hers, mine.

…I made a conscious effort to think like a person who doesn’t put himself at the head of the universe. ~ Sam, in “Skipped Parts” by Tim Sandlin

I’ve been thinking about this post for quite some time.  I’ve done a little research on “ego vs. healthy self-esteem.”  Little is the key word here. I even listened to a Q&A session with Eckhart Tolle in which he discussed this topic.  I find him rather difficult to listen to even though I do respect his writing and his opinions.  There is a great deal of information “out there” about ego.  So much, in fact, that my mind got boggled by it all.  Alright, I admit it, it doesn’t take a great deal of something to rattle my brain.  I read a little and came to the conclusion that my opinion is just as valid as some of those I read online.  Hehe.  How’s that for ego?  Or is that self-esteem?

• self-esteem–How much you respect and accept yourself.  Your concept of how worthy, valuable, lovable and capable you are in society.

• ego–An inflated opinion of yourself often accompanied by a belief that you are superior to others.

I’ve been trying to understand how or whether ego contributes to or causes divorce.  I think it could do both.  (I’m in way over my head here and I’m trying to find a graceful way out.)  The best I can tell, healthy self-esteem is a good thing.  Ego is not.  And if my self-esteem goes too far in either direction, the ego takes over.  Once my ego takes over, I do things that are not good for me.  If what I’m doing is not good for me, then it’s probably not good for my relationships.

So…When D started to have an affair with S, he started avoiding and neglecting me.  Over a period of time his inattention eroded my self-esteem.  Once my self-esteem became wounded (unhealthy), I started acting in a way that further damaged our relationship and our marriage.  That’s one scenario.  Another might be that I was already operating on too much ego and that might have been the reason he strayed.  Or maybe not.  I don’t really like that scenario.  (Ego?)

Bottom line–I can’t analyze, in retrospect, the ego of D, nor of S, nor even my own with any degree of accuracy.  Therefore this exercise in self-esteem/ego is a waste of time.  To quote an elderly priest D and I used to listen to when we were on the road together: “It matters not how the donkey got in the ditch.  Just get him out.”

I hereby promise myself that I will give up the search for what caused it and just get myself out of the ditch.  I mean it!

All the wrong reasons.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

All the Wrong Reasons                                                                                                       ~ Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne

Trouble blew in on a cold dark wind
It came without no warning
And that big ol’ house went up for sale
They were on the road by morning
Oh, the days went slow, into the changing season
Oh, out in the cold, for all the wrong reasons

Well she grew up hard and she grew up fast
In the age of television
And she made a vow to have it all
It became her new religion
Oh, down in her soul, it was an act of treason
Oh, down they go for all the wrong reasons

Where the sky begins the horizon ends
Despite the best intentions
And a big ol’ man goes up for sale
He becomes his own invention
Oh, the days go slow into the changing season
Oh, bought and sold, for all the wrong reasons
Oh, down they go for all the wrong reasons

This song has taken up residence in my brain.  Not just the tune, but the words as well.  Some singer/songwriter poems stand alone.  Bob Dylan’s and Leonard Cohen’s work, for example.  Those guys are true poets in my opinion.  This one by Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne needs to be sung.  With the music, the Oh becomes Oh, oh, oh, oh.  But even when I quadruple the word, reading it doesn’t strike the same chord (no pun intended) as when TP sings it.  I want to share it with you to find out if others feel the same way.  Click here to listen.

I’ve tried for days to figure out what I’m supposed to learn here, if anything.  It has caused me to reflect in a way that I wouldn’t have, had my daughter not given me the CD for Christmas.  I wonder how much of what we do when we’re young do we do with intention and logic and an eye to the greater good.  It’s not that I think I had sinister motives ever; it’s just that I wasn’t mature/experienced enough to understand the far-reaching consequences of my decisions.  I think the same is true of most people; and in particular, I give that bit of grace to D, my ex-husband.

The angels are back.

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ~  Norman Vincent Peale

Around this time last year, I wrote a post showing a photograph of a snowflake against a cloudless azure sky.  I took this angel photo in the same park this year.  (Click on photo to see angel more clearly.) In fact, the street lamps alternately display angels and snowflakes.  In last year’s post I commented on the incongruity of the snowflake against an amazingly bright Duke-blue sky.  I went from incongruities to oxymorons (aka oxymora) and the race was on.  I’m feeling a bit less playful as I sit down to write today; in fact, I’m downright pensive.  We’ll see where this angel takes me.

angel, a definition:  a typical benevolent celestial being that acts as an intermediary between heaven and earth, especially in Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and Zoroastrianism.

Here you see the angel of my childhood.  She certainly looks benevolent and celestial, doesn’t she?  When I was a youngster, and even through my teens, this picture resided on the wall beside my bed.  Living in the mountains meant we had our share of rickety little foot bridges similar to the one in the picture.  I imagined this was my brother trying to make his way across the bridge and the girl was our older sister helping him along, which she would have done with great good nature.  Of course they couldn’t see her, but the guardian angel was there to help them both across.  Sweet story.  Reassuring to a little girl who lived in a less than adequate home with less than competent parents.  (They did love us, though, I’ll give them that.)

Alas, the sweet story went awry.  Not his sisters, not his momma, not even an ethereal being sent from above could save that little boy from himself and his demons.  He died of a drug and alcohol overdose at the age of sixty-one.  Like father, like son.  He spent his entire life wanting and trying to do something, anything better than our dad.  He finally succeeded.  He out-lived him by about a year.

Ahhh, but “hope springs eternal in the human breast.”  (Alexander Pope said that.)  And so we bring out the angels at Christmastime and we burden them with our hopes and wishes.  We charge them with keeping us safe.  We put one on the tiptop of the Christmas tree.  What’s she supposed to do up there anyway?  Guard the tree?  If we’re lucky, we have an image of one in a difficult childhood who helps us through all manner of hard times.  Who/What are these ubiquitous presences?  I have a theory but first I’d love to know what you think.  Care to comment?

Some things I’ve learned…

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better.  It’s  not.  ~ Dr. Seuss

I like to have a project in the works.  Now that I’m working on this banner for the Spanish community church service, I awaken in the morning eager (after I’ve had my coffee) to assess the previous day’s work and to determine what part of it I’ll do today.  It’s a joy to watch it unfold.  It gives me a goal, albeit short-term, and it engages my artistic bent which is a more dominant force now than it was in the past.  Well, I guess the bent was always there but I have more time to devote to it than when I was working and taking care of my children.

I’ve been thinking lately about the wisdom of Dr. Seuss.  I believe that he taught us so much more than reading.  The Seuss quote above comes from his book The Lorax, 1971.  It’s a powerful environmental message.  If we had learned it back in ’71 when he wrote it our planet would be in better shape than it is today.  I don’t know whether it’s on any academic required-reading lists, but it’s certainly on mine.  When I was married to D, I had my very own Lorax (environmental conscience).  I’m happy to say he’s better looking than the one you see pictured here on the book cover.    D was a recycler long before it was the thing to do.  He cared “a whole awful lot” and tried to make it better.  I thank him for that.  He raised my consciousness several levels by being that way.  I don’t think he saved any of these beautiful “Truffala Trees” but I’m pretty sure he saved some other kinds.

Two days ago another blogger, lifeandothermisadventures, commented on my post about forgiveness.  She mentioned a book that she said was helpful to her.  The book was When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron.  The same day I went down to my local book shop and found that book and several others by Ms Chodron.  I sat down to examine them and determined that I needed the one called Taking the Leap:  Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears.  My thinking was that 1) things fell apart quite a long while ago and 2) I still have habits and fears that I don’t want to foster any longer.  In the book that I chose there is a chapter entitled “Getting Unstuck.”   This title jumped off the page, I think, because my daughter and I had recently been discussing the fact that sometimes we get stuck in our “recovery” and we can’t seem to continue the progress we have achieved up to that point.  Old habits feel too comfortable and we are afraid to take that next step.  I’m always amazed when the stars seem to align and send me a powerful message.  The last star in this alignment was a statement in my morning uplifting message which I read in Spanish.  (I read in Spanish to try to keep my language skills up to snuff.)   I read that “too often we sit back and wait for others to change instead of taking stock and figuring out how we need to change.”  Of course I knew this already but how easily I slide back into my old habits and let my old fears consume me.

In summary, the things I’ve learned are:  I am much happier when I have a project.  I care a whole awful lot about the environment and about how I treat other people.  I can’t change others; I can only change myself and how I react to them.  I could probably use more structure in my daily routine.  And last, I’m going to Peru in May, 2012!  Woo hoo!

To be or not to be an activist.

The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.  The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.  The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference.  And the opposite of life is  not death, it’s indifference. ~ Elie Wiesel

I recently had a meaningful conversation with one of my granddaughters.  I’ll call her Grace.  (She is after all very graceful.)  She came home from school a bundle of energy and excitement, as only a teenage girl can.  She told me all about being a member of the  Gay-Straight Alliance, one of the clubs in her high school.  They were preparing to march in the local Gay Pride Parade.  All systems were go and she was beaming and proud and seemed to have no qualms or doubts about her ability to do this and the rightness of doing it.  I told her I was proud of her for standing up for what is right and good and for what she believes in.  I also told her she was very brave but I didn’t elaborate.  No problem, right?

The next day she came home from school much less bubbly than she had been the day before.  I noticed a worried look on her brow as she texted her friend about their upcoming sleepover at the friend’s house.  I inquired, “Everything okay, Grace?”  She told me she thought her friend was upset with her because the parade would cause a slight delay in their plans.  We talked, Grace and I, and delved a little deeper into what might be her friend’s concern.  We discussed the fact that we aren’t always going to agree 100% with our friends.  She finally said rather philosophically, “Yeah, I know.  It’s the way she’s been raised.”  In other words her friend had been taught that gay=sin.

I tried to soften the hard, stark realization for her by telling her that some people are not activists.  Maybe her friend didn’t totally disagree with her.  Maybe she wasn’t an activist type.  I recalled a time when D went to protest an injustice in our small mountain town and I stayed home.  It wasn’t that I disagreed with him; it was that I didn’t like the idea of sitting all day in the hot sun.  Grace is way too smart to buy that theory but we grandmothers do what we can.

I’m very proud of her.

Living well…

Living well is the best revenge.                        ~ George Herbert

When D and I first separated, a good friend of mine said this to me a number of times.  It sounded right then.  My gut instinct was to want some kind of revenge.  Now that I have passed that stage I wonder if that’s really what George Herbert meant.

revenge:  The action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for a wrong suffered at their hands.

I think that the desire or need for revenge comes from anger or hatred.  I’m happy to say that I feel neither toward my ex and his significant other.  In fact, I never hated them.  Life is too short or too long depending on your point of view.  I readily admit, though, that I was terribly hurt–and angrier than I had ever been before.  I’m happy to say that I now have a rather gentle acceptance of all that has taken place in my life and I think I am, for the most part, living well.  And I have no need for revenge.  But I’m left wondering how my living well should have anything at all to do with revenge.  Or whether or not D and S are living well.  I hope they are.  I have no ill will.  It’s gone, dissipated.

And life is good.

Mother nature’s daily adieu.

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

One of my favorite things about living in the NC mountains was the daily glory of sunset.  I have so often thought that sunsets are best over the mountains or a body of water.  Imagine my delight when I discovered the beauty of sunset over rooftops in suburbia.  I took this photo from my front porch over the roofs of my neighbors’ houses.  (Click the picture to get the full effect.)  Beauty is wherever I find it.  And I find it everywhere.

I’ve realized recently that I notice more now that I live alone.  (I’ve been alone for slightly more than four years.)  There are fewer distractions.  I read somewhere that living alone has become the new normal.  Does that mean I can now be considered normal?  Maybe we shouldn’t take it quite that far.  (Giggle.)  But it is good to know that I have lots of company.

Living alone isn’t for sissies.  Whatever comes my way I have to manage by myself.  For example, I expected the storm restoration people to get back to me last week.  They didn’t.  Come Monday, I’ll have to put on my nice professional voice and call them.  My great granny used to say, “Remember, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”  And I will.  And the roofers will replace my roof.  The painters will paint my deck and shutters.  The air conditioner folks will comb my AC units whatever the heck that means.  (I know the hail put little dents all over those little honeycomb-looking sections and they’re less efficient with the dents.)  Oh, the things I’ve learned that I never wanted to know!

A little perspective here:  The sun sets every day and I get to watch it.  And life is good.

“I don’t know where I’m going but I’m on my way.” ~ Carl Sandburg

Periwinkle with variegated leaf?

Pulitzer Prize winning poet Carl Sandburg spent his lifetime asking the eternal questions Who am I, where am I going and where have I been? (Source: www.nps.gov)

It reassures me to know that someone as well-known and successful as Carl Sandburg asked those questions all his life.  It encourages me and gives me hope.

I always thought (and hoped) that I would have some sort of innate, experiential wisdom in my retirement years.  So why don’t I?  I never thought I would say this but here’s the truth as I see it right now:  Since D left exactly four years ago, I have done more toward developing into a wise woman than I ever would have done had he stayed.  Why?  Because I was too comfortable, maybe, with who, what and where I was.  Because I spent a great deal of time waiting for him to get home, to call, to help make decisions that affected both of us.  I’m not saying he required those things of me.  I required them of myself.

Since he’s been gone, I have studied and read and questioned and affirmed my faith and spirituality.  I have been writing regularly, something I always said I was going to do but never got around to it until my life was in such a turmoil that I had to.  Now that I’m no longer dealing with his/our issues, I have almost endless patience with people and family I deal with daily.  (OK, I admit that some of my patience may come from the Lexapro I’ve  been taking since D left.)  I’ve learned to accept what is in my life and run with it.  And you know, it’s not bad.  Some days it’s great!

Could I have done these things while living in the marriage?  Of course.  Would I have done them?  I don’t know.  I had done some spiritual soul-searching during the last years we were together.  I thought he was doing the same.  If so, we certainly came out of it in different locations.  This makes me giggle a little because I know that no two people are ever on the same path or journey.  But hopefully they will be able to hold hands anyway and agree to disagree.  I’m not saying our faith or lack of faith had much to do with our separation.  But it might have been factor.