Learning

New to my job -- a new position in my organization -- everyday I am learning something that creates a new set of possibilities for my job. It is so very new that every day I have the opportunity to rewrite the story of what my job entails. This is exciting to me. As a teacher, I am leading our organization into a new paradigm of doing business and I am learning that I can rise to the challenge and do my best work everyday (although, I clearly recognize that my best is different each and every day).

One interesting aspect of my job is that I must encourage "experts" to become comfortable with the notion that expertise requires the ability to learn, adapt, and sometimes change the way they do business. Every day I see different examples of people embracing change, ignoring change, being fearful of change. I must adapt my approach to encourage them to do their best work possible.

It is my job to ensure that our staff, consultants and contractors accept life as it is, be fully present, and embrace the full realm of possibilities that lie in the very near future.

It is my job to turn "The rules keep me from doing [this]," into "Tell me what you can do." It is my job to help them rewrite their stories.

These weeks, exasperating, exhausting, intense, and unknown...

Infinitely fascinating. Infinite potential.

Good Work

I remember the day I told Dad that I was going to quit my job waiting tables to take a job working in an art gallery.  He asked, "Why would you do that when you can make more money waiting tables?"  "Because I enjoy it more."

Today was a busy and strange day at work..."herding cats" as I like to call it.  At the same time, people were very complimentary about my presence there and I feel like a valued and skilled member of our team.  I know I am doing good work -- probably the best work that my skills can bring to bear -- and I am honored to have the opportunity to do this work.

I enjoy the work; I enjoy the people.  

Dr. Jim Stith, my advisor in grad school, would say, "When you don't enjoy your work, it's time to do something else."  He was so right.   Work cannot be my whole life, but it is so important that I have purposeful joy in my work.  I feel so fortunate to have the job I have and to work with the people I do...talented, dedicated and an inspiration. 

Life as it Is

safety, food, companionship 

shelter, nourishment, love

As we travel along our road of becoming it sometimes happens that we put ourselves into frightening situations that create the fear of loss of our basic human needs. We find ourselves in situations where remedy seems illusive. We develop shelters and practices that allow us to retreat temporarily into isolated safety and comfort. "I want to go home."

As we step forward with increasing wisdom, we recognize that assuming the pain of others is not a necessary component of compassion. As we grow and begin heal from our wounds, these wounds sometimes still wisp their way into our consciousness -- even without appropriate stimuli -- creating the visceral root chakra's "fight or flight" response. When we recognize this reaction; when we name its cause; when we recognize the impermanence of even that pain; we can then take another step forward into living with life...as it is.

When we can learn to be fully present the fears from the past lose all their power. Safety, home and love then become shelters that move with us and provide nourishment for ourselves and others wherever we go.

I recognized today that some of my pained relationship with Michael was impacting my life now in a negative way. I recognized the physical reaction to flee from a situation where there was no danger. I defined the problem, noted the source and released that pain from my unconsciousness. I developed clarity on another facet of what it means to be present.

I feel greater compassion for where I am today and for everyone in my life.

I recognize my increasing ability to love.

unpacking

bumped and bruised, fingernails broken, spirits high...

We are in our new home...beautiful garden, peaceful space.  Feels like home for the first time in a long time.  I do feel safe and loved here; protective and loving...a small little sanctuary I look forward to spending wonderful times with friends and family.

I am grateful for all of the love, support and kindness that brought me here.

packing

I've been packing since mid-October.  It started with the move to DC and has continued at a steady pace. I've unpacked, recycled, purged, burned, donated, bagged, boxed and bundled...and started the cycle over again.  

Tonight I'm packing for the movers tomorrow.  The animals are a freaked out.  They don't have the capacity to know that this is all okay.  We're all feeling a bit unsettled.  I'm feeling a bit tired.  

This move, however, will give me a place to putter.  I do look forward to a rest from packing. 

my home

activities of the last days linger in surprising places keeping the faith

the fading urea from the paint

the earthiness of the love here and there

the colors, tastes, and sounds

I anticipate the completion of my new home with patient gratitude

Impressions

This morning it was really chilly when I went in to work. I was wishing I had worn a pair of gloves...which got me thinking about gloves in general. My dog walking gloves are all a casual comfortable knit or thinsulate; my dress gloves are leather with cashmere lining. Gloves, like shoes, say alot about the person who wears them.

About 10 years ago, I was teaching at Ohio State. Pleasant to everyone, I knew all of the staff who worked daily in the physics department. I was unaware of my loss, but one winter afternoon our custodian chased me down while I was on my way to teaching and said, "Miss, I found this glove and it looks like something you would wear." Dark green leather...it was mine. It must have fallen out of my pocket earlier that morning. There was something in our interaction that he simply knew it was mine.

Given the events in my last couple of years, good and bad, I am honored that people can identify my gloves. I am glad to be seen as I am...whatever that means.

I hope I return the favor to those around me.

Life's Beauty

We have this beauty and imperfection of our lives...let's celebrate our quiet beauty.

today I am still disconnected

to the face that I saw in the clouds, yeah

and the closest I get to contentment

is when all the barriers come down

LearningSharingWorkingLearning

This evening I received a request to respond to this article about learning mathematics that will appear in the Cleveland Plain Dealer.  (It doesn't look like a link that's long-lived, so you have my apologies up front, but the gist is: we're falling behind; not doing a good job in the way we teach math). 

My reaction:  If we want to develop a national aesthetic that understands and respects the scientific/mathematical/technical arts, we need:

• a sense of curiosity
• a respect for practice
• a learned mentor
• a community who values the output

Funny how those are the very same characteristics that support the arts, value the trades, employ skilled craftsmen.

We've lost our way.

It's my contention that if aesthetics were 9/10 of the law, this would be a much kinder, gentler, more beautiful world in which to spend our days. 

The Road Not Taken

Happy Mother's Day, All.

At the age of 42, I am often asked, "so, why did you decide not to have any children?" It's a big question. One of the biggest.

Given the last few years of my life, I am glad that I had no children to feel the impacts of Michael's illness. At the same time, I recognize, that had I had children, there would have been no relationship with Michael. He wouldn't have had it; I wouldn't have had it. It wouldn't have been a safe or good choice for nurturing a child.

It's not that I haven't had the opportunity to have children. I've wrestled with that decision in the past, and decided against childbearing for me. There was something more important for my soul driving me down that road...something I needed to learn that I wouldn't learn with children.

Still, I come back to this thought: How much different would my choices have been if there were consequences to someone other than me? How much more gentle would have been my path? How much more would I have stayed out of trouble? How many rules would I have learned to follow?

I think of my own mother. She was married to a brutal, violent man -- David, my father. Visit my essay "The Guns and the Jade Buddha," if you'd like to learn more about my childhood with David. It was okay for her to be brutalized, but when she saw him commit violence against my brother, she left the marriage...at great threatened risk to her safety and ours. But the risk of being raised in violence was much more frightening to her.

So, on this Mother's Day, I think about my own mother. I think about my family. I think about my relation in the world.

I wonder: Who would I have been had I made a different choice?

I know that as I'm in this process of becoming, it will be clearer and clearer to me that everything is as it should be.

Happy Mother's Day to all who visit this space. Celebrate the strength of your mothers, of your fathers, of your family, of your presence.

Sketching Life

[I can't post without saying, HAPPY 35th BIRTHDAY, PAMELA!!]

Upon my morning arrivals at One Columbus, I am greeted by the regular people...our security staff, Rhonda our "client service coordinator," and Tim, the greeter for USBank whose doors open into the lobby of our building. Tim is a smiling older gentleman whose job it is to greet everyone that walks in the doors, to know people's names and make them feel welcome. My name comes easy to him as it is his daughter's name, too...and he is awfully proud of her.

As it turns out, Tim is something of a renowned artist...the medium: "Etch-A-Sketch." His etches are often on display in the Starbucks that is across the lobby from his bank post. I must say, that they are incredible. The drawings would be good in pencil. I remember as a kid how proud I would be if I could make a closed circle on the pad -- let alone detailed drawings of things. I liked playing with the Etch-A-Sketch. It was for me like I game I could not ever win...but one that was intriguing.

One of the beauties of this world is that you never know who you'll meet...you never know how you will be impacted by someone who is, at first, a mere stranger. When I walk through the door, he beams at me because I remind him of his daughter. I always smile in response to his joy.

Yesterday, or the day before, I went down to the lobby to grab an espresso. Tim looked at me and said, "You always look so peaceful, happy and serene."

On that hard day, I was grateful for the kindness of a stranger; but a member of the fabric of my present day. It reinforced everything all of those people who know and love me have been telling me. It reinforced my support system.

Thank you Tim. I, like you, vow to bring joy to one person each morning. Everyday, unknowingly, you remind me of that.
____________

PostScript: "Starbucks Lattes now for sale for $0.23," was written on a 4"x6" Etch-A-Sketch Tim showed me on my way out today. I said, "Tim, you're going to make some trouble." He winked.

Celebrating Life's Changes

Tonight was a reminder of change as one of life's great constants. I went to an event hosted by Clean Fuels Ohio celebrating their new office space. I've known Sam, the executive director of the organization, since I started working in the energy field. I was one of the founding board members when the organization left the umbrella of the City. Smart, careful and savvy, I was always impressed with his courage. Also there was Mary, the first person I hired while working at Ohio Energy Project. Energetic, brilliant and young, Mary had a maturity that made her a a pleasure to work with. She was there with her daughter...just a few months old. I haven't seen Mary in a couple of years, although we've been in constant contact.

I have known them both for nearly 10 years.

She said after the hugs, "you look exactly the same." I do, mostly, but there are many changes. I looked at her, and aside from the new baby, she looked the same as I remembered...now, in her mid-30s. And Sam -- his first baby was born after we met...now nearly 10 years old. He still looks the same, except now he and his wife Betsy are wonderful parents with great boys.

I look at us all. All the same. All completely different. All becoming amazing human beings in manifesting our potential. All being exactly who we always knew we could be. All changed. All creating stories with futures of infinite possibility.

I am so proud of us all.

Building Towers

Higgs has taken to long sessions of moving litter around in her catbox. Most remarkably, she finds 4:00 a.m. to be the perfect time to be midway through an hour long sculpting session. It's difficult to say exactly what she's doing or what appeals to her at that time of day.

After a long weekend in Cleveland, I come home to find -- she's scooting all of the pee covered litter to the center of the box -- she's building a mound of sorts.

We thought she was spelling. Perhaps she's building her Tower of Babel.

Receiving/Listening

Yesterday I began the process of closing Michael's estate. It was a deeply sad reflection on loss and tragedy; about his inability to receive love or gifts. In my own way, I was experiencing the same thing as I became overwhelmed with the sense of sadness for the violence; for the loss of life. There was a period in the day yesterday afternoon where I went back to that moment that I opened the garage door fully knowing, saw him slumped over in the car, pounded on the roof of that car yelling at him for what he had done, fell to my knees on the floor of my house sobbing and screaming while on hold with 911, walked outside to find the house surrounded by friends and neighbors.

The 911 operator asked me to give him CPR. No, he's been dead for hours. No, this is the sixth suicide attempt in three years. No, he wanted to die. He was dead. He needed to be dead.

They say that it is impossible to love if you can't first love yourself. I'm not so sure that is true. Yes, Michael could love. His tragedy was that he could or would not fully receive love.

I've spent the last 6 months wrestling with a feeling of unfairness that I received the estate through such tragedy. I've spent my childhood having things, money, school, and even love threatened and taken away. I've developed a hard core around receiving in order to not be hurt by the giver. I do give with great generosity; but I am in the process of learning how to receive.

But these are the years of my so-called "midlifecrisis" -- for my kundalini rising. These are the years to find relief from that fear of loss. These are the years of developing groundedness and moving from being a martyr without a cause to a champion for a cause. These are the years where I learn to discern between what is right for me and what my impulses would tell me is right for me. These are the years where I am coming into my true self and healing from the wounds of the past. These are the years of rewriting my story.

Last night, in the midst of great sadness and a strong desire to retreat to a place of 'safety' and isolation, Jack broke through. I realized the love that was there and I, probably for the first time in my life, received comfort in being in that place. This morning I've been reflecting on the importance of receiving gifts. The gifts of security that Michael gave me are what he wanted me to have. That is why he insisted on marrying me -- because he wanted to take care of me and his money provided him his only sense of self-worth. The gift of love is what Jack was offering me; it is the gift he was working so hard to find a way for me to receive.

The experience of being heard; of being received...these are the things that allow us to know that we are connected. These are the things that allow us to feel grounded. Being open to hearing and receiving gifts is how we let people know meaningful the they are to us. These are the things that allow us to share our gratitude.

In that way, receiving is like listening; giving like talking.

Owning our Reality

We are where we are because we have allowed it to be possible.

I experience those people who a mired in anger and self-pity. These are people who cannot see their role in creating pain; they can sense any other reality for themselves. They grasp at the energy and lives of those who seem to have more. They may even look at violence and destruction as a means to improve their situation. In the short run, they may find satisfaction; in the long run, their reality remains the same -- one of pain.

I also experience those people who walk smiling and with peace. These are people who own their reality; they work to overcome the inertia of their pain body. They share energy and love. These people work through pain and obstacles and take responsibility for making changes. They continuously shine the light through work and home that illuminates the path for the rest of us should we choose to walk it. They are in harmony with the moment, opening the door to a future of infinite possibility -- one of great joy.