by Liz | Nov 23, 2010 | main
My granddaughters have been here for a day or so, and I’ve watched Disney’s Aladin 3 times in less than 24 hours. If you sit through it and try to pay attention, some interesting points begin to surface. Not just the overt “Freedom” theme, but more quiet, interesting interactions.
Yes — Aladin is about freedom. Princess Jasmine wants to be free to be herself. She stands her ground in the face of rules that keep her trapped in the palace and mandate her marriage to a prince. She seeks the freedom to be herself. And the Genie wishes to be free. Genie declares that freedom is worth more than all of the magical powers he would ever possess as genie.This is a sort of freedom that I see as a gift in my life when I truly accept that I am loved by God: I get closer to being free to be myself in response to that love.
On the second or third time through the movie, I paid attention to Aladin and Abu’s trip into the Cave of Wonders to get the lamp. One rule: you can touch nothing but the lamp. Sounds a bit like Eden — don’t touch the that one tree! Abu, of course, fails the test, and touches the forbidden jewel. Poof! Everything falls apart. Aladin and Abu find themselves trapped (with the flying carpet and the lamp). The most interesting part of this is that despite the fact that Abu’s “sin” triggers the fall into the pit, Aladin never seems angry with him. Nowhere in the movie do I hear Aladin chastise or blame Abu for his failure. You’d think Aladin would yell at the monkey — at least in the darkest moments. But no — it doesn’t happen
Now, I ask — is this just fluff from a Disney kid movie or is there a lesson here? Wouldn’t it be great to live in a world where scapegoating and assigning blame don’t seem to exist? Isn’t this, in some way, a lesson from the Gospels on justice? Aladin and Abu just work toward getting things right rather than blame and vengence. Oh, my.
I could go on about Aladin believing that he had to be someone he wasn’t to win the girl only to discover that it was his true self that was loved in the end. However, I’ll let it go with this thought: there are great lessons everywhere — even in old Disney movies that you thought were all fluff.
Who knew?
by Liz | Nov 14, 2010 | main
A few days ago I set about to photoshop some images that were scanned from slides. The color didn’t seem to be balanced correctly in the scan, so I thought I’d practice color correction and more on this photograph of my father taken at my wedding. I rather like the framing — the Father of the Bride wearing a tux and a look rather like the proverbial cat who ate the canary, with stained glass windows as a part of the background. Problems erupted as I attempted to get the color of the tux correct and leave the face a normal, healthy color.
Face nice = tux all to dull. Tux correct = face ruddy, red and unappealing.
Emotions are funny creatures. As I looked seriously at the image, I realized that getting the color of the tux correct was just going to make me face reality. Anger and hatred stormed into the room. I let them stay for a while. I tried to listen to them. I realized that despite the work I have put in to try to heal my relationship with my father (who died nearly 25 years ago) I had never allowed myself to admit how deep the anger and hate went. That ruddy face, made clear in the image unleashed the storm.
I have worked on my feelings about my father — especially after his death over 20 years ago — and I thought I had made progress in healing the relationship. No, I have made progress. However, life is paradox. The more I am able to accept and forgive, the more open I must become to admitting just how painful some things are, and just how deep the effects run.
Cleaning up old photos seems to be akin to cleaning the mirror and seeing the reflection in bright light with more detail than you might want and still learning to love that reflection. It means that it somehow makes sense to be able to say: “Daddy — I hate your guts. Oh, and I love you.”
by Liz | Nov 2, 2010 | main
November 1 — All Saints is a call not only to remember those shining examples of living in God love, but also a time to reflect on those lights that we have seen shine, up close and personal. It is good to remember and reflect on the giants: Vincent de Paul, Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Sienna, Mother Teresa, Thomas Merton. But, there are others who have lived the example much closer to my own life.
My stepfather, Stewart, was such a light. Not perfect — but a man who tried to walk the walk that God called him to. A man who brought much healing to my own image of Father. A man who loved my mother, and embraced all of us (his 3 and her 3 children, plus grandchildren) as family. Today, I stop to remember him, and thank God for him.
My grandfather, Jack who was always there. There’s not much to say in concrete terms from my perspective — I mean, beyond my memories of him showing up on Saturday mornings with Wrigley’s Spearmint gum in his pocket, to take us home with him for the night. Or, my memories of how he loved his great grandchildren. There was a special affinity between him and my youngest son. I wish he had lived to see Daniel grow up.
My grandmothers. One, who taught me how to make a two crust, pokeberry filled mud pie, and how to knit and crochet, and had me help her send checks to the Democratic National Committee (with a promise not to tell my mother what we were up to.) The other, who made wonderful cinnamon rolls, and my first semi-formal dress ( a bright, gorgeous turquoise velvet — or was it the red and white one that I wore to my first dance?). She seemed able to do anything with nothing.
I could go on and on. These people and others taught me how to live and how to love. They are no longer here in body, but in some way, they live on in me. I pray I do them right as I journey.
by Liz | Oct 30, 2010 | main
Perseverance must be a virtue. Not an easy one for me, despite the fact that acknowledge it to be a virtue.
At times, I find it easier to persevere if I take the time to note the small things in life, so that I can look backward over the log of my life and see that a change has been made. This is helpful especially when change seems to be geologically sssllllooooowwww.
So, of late, I decided to get a handle on eating and maybe lose some weight. I’ve done all manner of diets. I know what types of things I should eat. I also know what things I really like to eat. If I take the time to inspect it, I even know that some of those comfort foods and yummy stuff leave me feeling bloated, uncomfortable or just miserable. In light of past failures, I simple started logging everything I eat. It’s amazing what you won’t eat if you have to write it down! And amazing what you don’t really miss when that happens.
Now for the perseverance part: like everyone who desires to become a lighter, smaller version of themselves, I want to see results. This is where the keeping track actually helps in the long run. If I look at things everyday, I lose the perspective that things have actually changed over the past month. On the other hand, on a daily basis I check for the little things that I want to change — a slightly looser waistband, less effort to tie my shoes, actually doing all of the jumping jacks and hops in a Zumba class.
I’m sure the same is true of my spiritual journey — I just have to take the time take notice and take note so that I can see that ever so slightly, I make a bit of a change along the way. Nothing earth shattering, but more of an evolution where something drops from importance and some other vision begins to take hold of my hand and lead me on my path.
by Liz | Oct 30, 2010 | main
It may seem a small thing, but… I never sleep all night through, even using my CPAP.
Several years ago, I didn’t sleep well at all. (Pre-CPAP) I woke up repeatedly during the night, my mind spinning out of control. Anxiety. Panic. No way to shut it down. I found my own use for a rosary in those days. Instead of a Mystery, I would try to focus on just one of the great cloud of worries, and hand it over. Then, came the Hail Mary’s as I tried to let go. Next, decade, I would try to single out another worry and let go. Some nights I think it took all 15 to calm down enough to try to sleep.
Quiet. What a gift! Now I still wake up a few times per night. But it is different. If I lay on one side for too long, my hip hurts and I wake up. If I am on my back, sometimes my arm will go to sleep and I will wake up. And there’s that stupid hose that pushes air into the CPAP mask and tangles me up at times. But — the mind in quiet. The cloud of worries has dissipated. The present lives. I breathe. I am. Aaah.
It was a pretty useless cloud of worries — a list of things that I could not control or things that I had “done wrong” that took great joy in hounding me. It was a cloud intent on keeping me from peace, from the present and always in the past or future. May it never return.
