That's the best encouragement I can offer. Whatever it is you are doing, wherever you are trying to move from point A to point B... don't quit.
Though you are facing opposition or seemingly insurmountable odds, though you are feeling like you have been spitting in the wind for years, though everyone around you has seemed to slip into that opinion that it was a good idea in the beginning but now you ought to try something else. Don't quit.
Now , on the other hand. If you are engaging in something that is destroying the world either physically, morally or spiritually, Quit.
If you are harming another person or standing in the way of them being all they were created to be, Quit.
If you are exploiting or cheating or conning or scamming, Quit.
God means for you to have more. God means for you to have the most. The easy way is most often not the best way.
True sometimes things fall together seamlessly. More often than not that is after years and years of struggle and hard work. Most times it is those years of hard work that pay off the most in adding something better to the world and the people of the world.
So if you want to Quit... don't. If you don't want to Quit and you are hurting someone or something... do.
Make the most of the gift of today. It's never to late to choose a more positive route in life. It's never to late to keep on keeping on.
Love
Deborah
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Life Begins
For weeks before Buddy died ( and I didn't know he was so close to death), the words 'life begins when the kids move out and the dog dies' kept echoing in my brain.
I can be given to such small prophecies. I remember one time I was working with a young man who had multiple seizures every day and the words 'First Do No Harm' kept coming to me. I argued with the faceless voice that of course I would do no harm to the best of my ability. Within weeks I discovered there was a movie about a 'cure' for seizures, the Keto-Genic diet, developed at Johns Hopkins that was called 'First Do No Harm'. Needless to say I rented the movie as fast as I could get it.
So... in a way I could say I was warned Buddy was passing. But I loved Buddy, the 13 year old Golden Retriever who had only come to my home six years ago, so much I couldn't focus on imminent passing to puppy heaven. I thought I had another year or two at least.
His body shut down way faster than my heart was ready. Last week was a pretty grim week. His passing at 10:10 on Wednesday 2 November was completely sad. I spent three days virtually in bed. I would rise to go do some work and then as soon as I was home again collapse in overwhelming grief. I watched Bolt, Marley and Me, The Bucket List, Must Love Dogs within a twenty four hour period. Then I could tell I was coming out of it because I watched Shirley Valentine and then Eat, Pray, Love.
Do you see the progression? I sat down this morning and wrote a list of all I could think of Buddy's qualities and behaviors which had blessed me. And then I started to clean. Life without a constant shadow has put the focus back on 'what am I going to give the world?' instead of just 'what does Buddy need right now?'. Buddy would expect me to give back big time in the same way he gave love and affection and positive regard to everyone he came in contact with. I find myself suddenly, really single.
Sure the cats are still here. Boris looked for Buddy for a couple of days. Natasha ( Tasha for short) gave search to a lesser degree. She is still miffed that Buddy would never open the door to the outside for her. She was somehow convinced that he would do so. And they spent those same days I was watching movies curled up on my tummy and my chest. Tasha still thinks she is the runt of the litter and can fit under my chin.
But as you all know, cats are about their independent business and do not follow you from you to room as if you could not survive safely without their company, or visa versa. They do not bother you unless there is something mysterious going on or .... they have no food.
So I am finding myself filled with the aroma, the residue, the effect of Buddy's constant love and affection and the impulse to live my life as nobly as he did.
I find myself beginning this new chapter with a sense of wonder. While he was alive I had not noticed how Buddy was growing me on the inside and now I find myself filled will all kinds of good abilities and desires that were not there before he came into my life.
I will not replace him. But in several years, I have been told by a four year old who is my friend for whom I care and who cared deeply for Buddy, I will get another Golden, a girl and I will named her Rose. That's what my friend said.
In the meantime, I will live out all the love and devotion Buddy filled me with , passing it on to my work, my play, my friends and my family.
Thank you God for the blessing of the unexpected Buddy. He changed my life in ways I never knew he could while he was alive.
Love,
Deborah
I can be given to such small prophecies. I remember one time I was working with a young man who had multiple seizures every day and the words 'First Do No Harm' kept coming to me. I argued with the faceless voice that of course I would do no harm to the best of my ability. Within weeks I discovered there was a movie about a 'cure' for seizures, the Keto-Genic diet, developed at Johns Hopkins that was called 'First Do No Harm'. Needless to say I rented the movie as fast as I could get it.
So... in a way I could say I was warned Buddy was passing. But I loved Buddy, the 13 year old Golden Retriever who had only come to my home six years ago, so much I couldn't focus on imminent passing to puppy heaven. I thought I had another year or two at least.
His body shut down way faster than my heart was ready. Last week was a pretty grim week. His passing at 10:10 on Wednesday 2 November was completely sad. I spent three days virtually in bed. I would rise to go do some work and then as soon as I was home again collapse in overwhelming grief. I watched Bolt, Marley and Me, The Bucket List, Must Love Dogs within a twenty four hour period. Then I could tell I was coming out of it because I watched Shirley Valentine and then Eat, Pray, Love.
Do you see the progression? I sat down this morning and wrote a list of all I could think of Buddy's qualities and behaviors which had blessed me. And then I started to clean. Life without a constant shadow has put the focus back on 'what am I going to give the world?' instead of just 'what does Buddy need right now?'. Buddy would expect me to give back big time in the same way he gave love and affection and positive regard to everyone he came in contact with. I find myself suddenly, really single.
Sure the cats are still here. Boris looked for Buddy for a couple of days. Natasha ( Tasha for short) gave search to a lesser degree. She is still miffed that Buddy would never open the door to the outside for her. She was somehow convinced that he would do so. And they spent those same days I was watching movies curled up on my tummy and my chest. Tasha still thinks she is the runt of the litter and can fit under my chin.
But as you all know, cats are about their independent business and do not follow you from you to room as if you could not survive safely without their company, or visa versa. They do not bother you unless there is something mysterious going on or .... they have no food.
So I am finding myself filled with the aroma, the residue, the effect of Buddy's constant love and affection and the impulse to live my life as nobly as he did.
I find myself beginning this new chapter with a sense of wonder. While he was alive I had not noticed how Buddy was growing me on the inside and now I find myself filled will all kinds of good abilities and desires that were not there before he came into my life.
I will not replace him. But in several years, I have been told by a four year old who is my friend for whom I care and who cared deeply for Buddy, I will get another Golden, a girl and I will named her Rose. That's what my friend said.
In the meantime, I will live out all the love and devotion Buddy filled me with , passing it on to my work, my play, my friends and my family.
Thank you God for the blessing of the unexpected Buddy. He changed my life in ways I never knew he could while he was alive.
Love,
Deborah
Monday, October 17, 2011
12 Inches High
America's Test Kitchen offers such wonderful unusual fun facts as it dispenses wisdom about all things cooking. One fun fact I learned the other day reading their magazine is that they tested the perfect height for shaking spices onto dishes that are cooking. They discovered, if I remember correctly, that four inches was too close and fifteen inches was too far away. The proper height to maximize the dispersion of flavours is ( drum roll please) twelve inches.
Hmmm.... makes one wonder if we are spreading our own little seasonings to life amongst the population, what is the proper distance? How close should one spread Joy? How far away should one keep sorrow?
We all have those distances with which we are most comfortable depending on the circumstances. If we're watching someone melt down or , by the same token, kissing in public my guess is we're probably hangin' back a bit.
Cute kids? Even if we don't know them we're in their faces to smoodgy woodgy on them and let them know they brighten the world.
Your ex anything? Depends on the nature of the before and after of the break up doesn't it?
New friend? We're probably sprinkling at four inches until we get to know each other better.
Dog with drool? Way, way back.
So... take a day and see where you stand on seasoning the world with your presence. I'm going to just for fun.
Love,
Deborah
Hmmm.... makes one wonder if we are spreading our own little seasonings to life amongst the population, what is the proper distance? How close should one spread Joy? How far away should one keep sorrow?
We all have those distances with which we are most comfortable depending on the circumstances. If we're watching someone melt down or , by the same token, kissing in public my guess is we're probably hangin' back a bit.
Cute kids? Even if we don't know them we're in their faces to smoodgy woodgy on them and let them know they brighten the world.
Your ex anything? Depends on the nature of the before and after of the break up doesn't it?
New friend? We're probably sprinkling at four inches until we get to know each other better.
Dog with drool? Way, way back.
So... take a day and see where you stand on seasoning the world with your presence. I'm going to just for fun.
Love,
Deborah
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Back In the Pool
If I'm not swimming regularly I lose quite a bit of my soul and my definition. Swimming grounds me. For fifteen years I have not been able to swim regularly.
When the kids were growing up, I would slip out of the house at 5AM and go pull myself through the water with long strong strokes that made me feel like I was a channel swimmer. I even learned how to do a flip turn. I felt downright Olympic.
During troubled times I would pray... Jesus Christ, Lamb of the World have mercy on me. Over and over and over. Or I would pray... Jesus speak to me a sinner.
This last year after I broke several toes several times and rotated out my hip, I reached the point I could barely walk. A month ago when the Athletic Club offered a special waiving the initiation fee and I was finally old enough to get a discount on the monthly dues, I joined again. It was that, or get a walker and a cane. I choose swimming.
Tonight I had to ask for help with the hook in my bathing suit. I love my suit but didn't realize when I bought it that the practical racer back that makes for comfortable swimming came with an awkwardly placed hook. There's always someone there to help. They never mind. I wouldn't either if someone asked me to hook and unhook their bathing suit. Anything to help someone exercise.
I wear my clogs to the pool's edge because my disabled foot is too sensitive to walk on the cement. Down the steps, getting my bearings and then peace. Lovely waterlogged peace. As my last lap I lay on my back and gently move myself down to the other end of the pool. I see myself in the retractable roof and measure my the straightness of my stride in the aluminum supports between each window section. I see myself totally centered on so many levels.
Fifteen minutes in front of a strong jet in the whirlpool, a long luxurious shower that makes me feel only slightly ecologically guilty and the ritual is complete.
The woman staffing the club tonight is a single mom. I thank her for working so we can all enjoy this. I know she is working hard, sacrificially and with great integrity to the details of the operation.
I'm not going to stop swimming again. Ever. I'm never going to lose that much of myself, or cut myself off from the opportunity to find this much of myself. Ever. We cannot achieve or enjoy a contemplative life without contemplative experiences.
Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Love
Deborah
When the kids were growing up, I would slip out of the house at 5AM and go pull myself through the water with long strong strokes that made me feel like I was a channel swimmer. I even learned how to do a flip turn. I felt downright Olympic.
During troubled times I would pray... Jesus Christ, Lamb of the World have mercy on me. Over and over and over. Or I would pray... Jesus speak to me a sinner.
This last year after I broke several toes several times and rotated out my hip, I reached the point I could barely walk. A month ago when the Athletic Club offered a special waiving the initiation fee and I was finally old enough to get a discount on the monthly dues, I joined again. It was that, or get a walker and a cane. I choose swimming.
Tonight I had to ask for help with the hook in my bathing suit. I love my suit but didn't realize when I bought it that the practical racer back that makes for comfortable swimming came with an awkwardly placed hook. There's always someone there to help. They never mind. I wouldn't either if someone asked me to hook and unhook their bathing suit. Anything to help someone exercise.
I wear my clogs to the pool's edge because my disabled foot is too sensitive to walk on the cement. Down the steps, getting my bearings and then peace. Lovely waterlogged peace. As my last lap I lay on my back and gently move myself down to the other end of the pool. I see myself in the retractable roof and measure my the straightness of my stride in the aluminum supports between each window section. I see myself totally centered on so many levels.
Fifteen minutes in front of a strong jet in the whirlpool, a long luxurious shower that makes me feel only slightly ecologically guilty and the ritual is complete.
The woman staffing the club tonight is a single mom. I thank her for working so we can all enjoy this. I know she is working hard, sacrificially and with great integrity to the details of the operation.
I'm not going to stop swimming again. Ever. I'm never going to lose that much of myself, or cut myself off from the opportunity to find this much of myself. Ever. We cannot achieve or enjoy a contemplative life without contemplative experiences.
Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Love
Deborah
Thursday, August 11, 2011
my senior year
Soooo it's come and gone. My sixtieth birthday has happened. Much to my surprise, I'm lovin' it. This is the senior year I never had. Until I graduate to that great university in the sky, this is my senior year. I missed my senior year in high school because I went off to England to work for a widower on sabbatical with two young children. I missed my senior year in college, ostensibly, because I was all about making a relationship work and being pressured into marriage by my mom.
But this.... this last third of my life is going to be the time of my life. I've earned all the rights and privileges of having a blast. I'm going to complete everything I started. I'm going to learn everything I set out to learn. I'm going to get more fit and healthy than I've ever been. I'm going to laugh more, dance more, sing more, and didn't I once have the goal of learning to jump riding horses? Could my back take it? My heart sure could.
The goal is to be off the charts with creativity and adventure. To be more bold in my encouragement of others. Love with more abandon. Cook with more joy.
Yessiree...that' s my manifesto. Sixty means it's time to party in work, play and school!!!
The wait is over. Life has arrived!
Love
Deborah
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
True Dat
A funny thing happened between October 2009 and July 2011. I lived at the mercy of so many people and at the same time lived at the truest core of myself I'd ever experienced. It continued a musing on empathy in deep ways.
Empathy--"the ability to understand and share the feelings of others". ( according to Wikipedia) It's the opposite of narcissism which is pathological self absorbtion .
About thirty years ago I spent a lot of time learning about attachment disorder. It's the cycle that happens essentially in the first six months of life that makes empathy possible or impossible for a person to experience. Important stuff.
Throw in a news clip I watched ( on my smartphone of course) about a Vietnam Vet and a Viet Cong officer having a reunion saying to each other 'We were enemies on paper" and I thought to myself, what an affront to all those families who had sons and daughters who died in that war.
Couldn't they have decided this BEFORE the war and just forgotten all that killing and maiming part.
I think of the teachers in this world who have classrooms crammed with students and little if any time to teach let alone express life changing empathy and wonder if maybe there is a way to fund education so enough empathy is caught to change every kind of lifestyle that can happen.
When I was growing up, the news story that impacted my life the most was Kitty Genovese. She was attacked in the middle of the night and stabbed repeatedly over the course of a half hour crying out for help. The media reported 38 people had seen or heard the event and did nothing. Later an investigation said it was only a dozen. Only.
Empathy and codependence seem to be wrapped up together sometimes. I am a caring person who is not afraid to get involved. Yet recently I was reminded of how difficult it is to set limits with people with dependency issues. By their very wounded nature it feels like abandonment and frustration to the extreme to not receive attention or be in total control.
Yet, how do we decide who to care for. If I , because of my background, have the ability to crawl inside the heart of a person with mental illness and express empathy, does it wound me to get that close? Therapists have those chairs set apart for a reason dontchaknow.
This I know. Being in relationship with people in loving and caring ways will sometimes break my heart, sometimes overwhelm me and sometimes... the best of times... feed my soul in ways I could only dream would happen in this lifetime. I , a person of faith, have to believe it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Love
Deborah
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