Wholeness

It is interesting the way we seek wholeness.








When we are naive, we ask "what will make me whole?" We seek our wholeness in that which is outside of us.

In truth, our wholeness is in our grasp; in our lives. We give it away, we leave it in places, we allow our new pain to reside in the place of the old...

We must revisit those places and ask the hard questions of ourselves: What must I do to create continuity? Whom must I ask to relinquish control? How can I accept life...as it is?

And yet be whole.

Imperfect

“[The grade of] ‘A’ is a possibility to live in to, not a standard to live up to.” ~ Rosamund Stone Zander

The biggest lesson I continually learn about myself is about my ability to learn and grow...more precisely and honestly I am reminded of my need to learn and grow. My work, friends, animals, family, neighbors, community, house, car...all keep reminding me: "you might be alright, and you still have a tremendous amount of learning to do."

Like my colleague Rob's HUGE puppy (85 pounds at six months) growing hurts. It exhausts me. It takes all of the energy I have; yet somehow it brings me more:

More joy; more love; more patience; more compassion.

I don't believe in grade inflation. Right now, I would grade myself about average. Average for me. I've done better; I've done worse.

That would be a 'C'.

What I like about that is it gives me tremendous room for improvement.

Aging...gracefully!?!

I had a meditation last year where, after a very long time, I saw my true self again. I looked at myself and I thought, "Yeah, this woman that was nicknamed Gaia in grad school needs to come back out and play." The hiker, the strong, natural woman.

So I decided that I wanted to let me hair go grey.

It's going. I really like it.

I feel like if I'm moving along the path of the vision and feel of that woman, I'm doing the right thing.

Two nights ago I had an eye appointment. Here I am, the widow...perimenopausal...on my period...having the love of my life...and I hear:

"Your optic nerve looks good, your retinas look great (but see me if you get any sign of detachment right away), your vitreal gel looks good...and you have the very beginnings of cataracts. The good news is that if they have to replace your lens, they can correct your vision."

And I think: How did I get 20 years older than I am. I thought I was 42...not 62.

Nonetheless, it went a long way to explaining the nightblindness in a way I can live with.

The 3 Rules

quoting j/z:

There are 3 sanity rules for any relationship. Rule #1: Only one of us gets to have drama at any point in time. Rule #2: Don’t hog the drama. Rule #3: A day of no drama is a good day for all.

There are three essentials for any relationship.

Essential #1: Empathy - Walking in the other's shoes; Essential #2: Compassion - Connecting through your heart; and Essential #3: Generosity - offering your gifts freely.

Funny thing...these three essentials always lead me to a place of gratitude; a place of joy.

Grief

sneaks up on you

a reminder of life

a connector to now

a bridge to what is next

Dieing and Rebirth

What is borne of all this?

Walking into the garden at my house in Cleveland, I see clearly what is lost. I see the waste, the lack of care, all of the signs of the love and presence that is no longer there. I see the ghosts of what he tried to give me. I feel the guilt of not being able to steward that any longer.

Did the garden die with him? Is that the metaphor for what we were?

Perhaps.

I feel the remorse of being so strong-willed that I couldn't get work here. I feel a sense of melancholy that I left. I feel my life -- split between two places; two existences that I love. I feel the sense of uneasy ambivalence that is the forbearer of change.

I am at a loss to know what is next. I feel rebirth around the corner. The intensely bright sun is burning my eyes.

Healing is, indeed, painful.

"Not Yet!"

Today is our Executive Director Mike Shoemaker's 63rd birthday. Upon wishing him happy birthday, he shared the following:

An old coot was sitting at the side of the road watching the day pass when a stranger walked by and asked, "Hey, old man, d'you live here your whole life?"

"Nope, not yet."