by Liz | Aug 2, 2010 | main
Last week I spent a couple of days where I had to just breathe and be in order maintain composure.
I wonder at some things — like what are folks who tend toward certain political stances afraid of? I hear the fear and self-defense of those who support the T-party. It seems that all one, with a different take on things, has to do is breathe in their presence and all of that emotion (which to me seem to be mostly fear and hatred) belch forth like a geyser.
I’m trying to comprehend a bit of this: A relative recently proclaimed that I wear blinders because I don’t willingly listen/watch Fox News. The fact that I strongly suspect that this relative hasn’t listened to/watched anything else in years, makes me wonder about the blinders. But, I digress… If I am in the same room with this person, and make the error of mentioning almost anything that could have political overtones, I see the claws and fangs come out. I see the defenses go up. I know, when I see that, that I am about to be called defensive.
Hmmm…. with my daughter, we seem to be able to talk a bit with one another. She actually makes statements and will listen to a response. She can articulate where we might disagree. She is open as well to hear that maybe her perception is a bit off. I find myself able to listen to her, and I think she can hear me. We come to different places, but, at least, with the 2 of us, we can have some sort of dialogue.
Not so, with some others.
And so, I breathe. In and out. Am I here? Now? Breathe. In and out. Let go. Pray for myself. Pray for those that you perceive as persecuting you. Pray for those that seem to think that you want to persecute them. Breathe. In and out. Let God be present. Breathe. In and out. Smile. Know that perhaps, it could be a positive sign — if your presence causes those who would divide instead of unite to put up defenses then you are doing something right. Breathe. In and out. Now.
by Liz | Apr 26, 2010 | main
Can’t decide what is most in my mind today… making note of how my latest pass at following the South Beach diet is going, or making note of the the connectedness of all of creation. I think I’ll indulge myself and begin with the former.
This is day 1 of week 2 of Phase One of South Beach. That’s the stage that gets well and truly BORING – lean meat, veggies (but no carrots or sweet potatoes), no fruit, no bread or other starchy items. No Sugar. Lots of lowfat cheese, lots of eggs. And, of course, I seem to be losing less than hoped in this initial stage. Drat!
With that out of the way, I’m remembering the joys of “eating right.” When I’m noticing that I’m hungry, I am. Not the crashy, GOT TO EAT NOW AND FAST hungry, but still hungry. Most of the sensation of an overfull abdomen is gone. I sat on the bed last night to watch my 2 Sunday shows and discovered that I could do so without pain – without reflux. Joy!
And this morning in Zumba, I found myself doing far more of the jumping jack type moves, more hops, more of everything. Woohoo! The goal of having the jeans get looser is accompanied by the desire to do all of the Zumba class without pause and to enjoy it even more than I do now. It’s coming along slowly.
To get to the heart of it all, I’m looking at this as a way to facilitate ditching that extra layer of protection I carry around almost like another person. Gotta get rid of that. Gotta be just me. It is all a part of that Journey to Myself that I am on. It’s a part of finding the “me” that exists whether I work at the library or work from home or don’t even work at all. It a part of finding the “me” that is the same whether I’m daughter or sister or mother or grandmother. It’s learning to listen to the quiet, still voice that assures me that the person hiding in here is loved without having to earn it — and being willing to let her out.
I’ve been at this part of the spiral before… it seems good to find myself at this part of the circular path once more only a bit closer to the center.
by Liz | Jan 31, 2010 | main
A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I were talking and he mentioned something he had read or heard about the difficulties of understanding the various ways of expressing love. Some talk, some do. It seems I’m married to a “do-er” as it were. I’ve tried watching carefully for the past week of two to see if I can understand this. Interesting trial.
He does. He went to Walmart for something, and while there, hunted down a cable I needed for my iPod so that I could use it in the car — 2 cables, it turned out. In the past, he bought me a 12-string guitar for my birthday (one I had looked at, played and liked very much.) He calls on his way home from school (he’s a teacher so he’s off earlier than I) to see if there is anything needed at the store. There are more things that he does. Many more.
This is not my preferred communication method. It’s hard to see it. It requires work on my part to pay attention enough to see that this is his way of caring. I am much more in tune to to talking, sharing, emotion. That I understand that without so much work. But, I think this might be impossible for him.
This weekend the second reading for mass proclaims that love is the most important. Perhaps it is not only important to love, but also important to try to understand and accept the sometimes cryptic way others attempt to love us.
by Liz | Aug 26, 2009 | main
On my way in to work each morning I pull up to an intersection that causes me to face a line of not so very old trees. These trees were carefully planted a number of years ago and are nicely spaced so as to have plenty of room to grow without interference from neighboring trees. The one that is almost straight ahead is a beautifully shaped specimen — even, symmetrical, tall. Not constrained by other trees.
How unlike the trees in my backyard. The ones I planted from little seedlings and saplings. The white oaks that are too close together because each was an acorn with a leaf attached when planted. And planted a bit close because I wasn’t sure which, if any would survive and also because I didn’t have the vision to see the full grown tree. Same for the maples. And then, there is the McDonald’s pine tree brought home by a thrilled 3 year old and planted in a random spot.
My backyard trees are more like my life: They are lopsided because they crowd each other. They fight for the sunlight and the water and the nutrients. They form a solid cover over part of the yard. If one is removed, it is obvious that something has been taken away and it will take years to fill in the gap. Just like my life. All crammed in with people I love and ideas and responsibilities. When one of these is removed it’s pretty obvious. And it takes time to adapt and fill in the gap.
I’m not that perfect, symmetrical tree at the end of the street. I’m not an island. Some days, I wish I was. But, for today, I think it’s ok to be shaped by those around me — just as long as I can get enough sunlight and water and nutrients to hold up my spot.
by Liz | Jul 8, 2009 | main
My husband lost another aunt last winter. She was, I believe, the last surviving civilian WWII POW (Philippines) in the state of Maine. There were lots of stories there that took decades to become tellable. We are here in her old stomping grounds, visiting and sharing meals with family that was close to her and I notice something about the conversation. There are times when Jackie is still referred to in the present temse. “Jackie really likes this” or “She wants you to have this.” We even having dinner to celebrate her birthday this week. All the while, this is co-mingled with talk of the continuing disposition of her things… things that are precious to keep and things that can finally be passed on or gotten rid of.
It brings to mind the Easter Season and Pentecost. Jesus is gone, but He is still around. What do we remember? What is he still telling us? He’s gone, but no! he’s still here. It’s been several months, but only now is it becoming clear — We are the ones to carry on.
I can only hope that we will be remember with as much love as she is.
