Last week in small group, we started talking about those things we always wanted to do, to learn, to try, and whether 'now' is a time to consider them again. Our small group leader talked about getting his motorcycle license a few years ago, after many, many years of thinking about it. Since I've always wanted one, too, we talked a little about the process here. Someone else in the group pointed out that I'd been painting - choosing colors, prepping, enjoying the entire process. And it gave me the courage to think about old dreams; dreams I'd thought were lost, or at the very least, relegated to the darkest corners of my memory, only to be brought out in that 'someday' time when my grandchildren are thinking about what to do with their lives, and I am there to offer the advice that would make my own children crazy.
Growing up, I always knew I wanted to be a mom; that's no secret. No one, and I mean no one, considered it a career option I should dedicate myself to. After a while, I tried keeping it to myself so I could explore options, at least on paper, and I found myself truly interested in a variety of fields. I wanted to be a dancer. I wanted to study international law. I wanted to continue with my French and Spanish studies, and work at the UN as a translator. I wanted a job that had me traveling the world, but also gave me the opportunity to be available, always, to my children. I wanted an office with my name on the door and an assistant who would show people in, because I wanted to be able to say, "No, I don't know that person. Send him away." I wanted to be a photographer. I wanted to live out of a suitcase because the world was my home. I wanted to make things, paint things, envision things and see them come to life. I wanted to work for an organization like Make-A-Wish, Habitat for Humanity, Ronald McDonald House. I remember once, to my mother's horror, saying that my dream job would have me wearing a cap and carrying a clipboard. [at the time I was watching one of the first FedEx commercials] I wanted to be a helicopter pilot. I wanted to ride horses, to live near the water. I wanted to study psychology, and be a social worker.
Sitting in that small group, all of my dreams washed over me, gently, soothingly, and I admitted what was most on my heart. I was discouraged from all of my biggest dreams; not always directly, and not always logically, but I was a kid. And a kid bent on pleasing somebody - anybody. Unfortunately, no one had ever encouraged me to be me, to understand that I have worth, that my dreams matter. No one told me that I matter. I don't even know if anyone 'in authority' knew that I was terrified of auditioning - so much so that when I came to the realization about a year ago that an audition is very similar to a job interview, I nearly fainted. Instead, I was reminded that I "hated school" (a half-truth; I hated not being myself, and being a teenager, it was safe to blame school); UN appointments were relatively short-term; work travel and family don't mix; I wasn't taking a science; non-profits don't have paid employees; "none of these options are appropriate for an intelligent and attractive young woman like you." None of my dreams were appropriate for me.
Being a mom has been the most rewarding and challenging career choice. It's not been without its sacrifices, and I would not change any of the choices I've made. Are there things I wish had turned out differently? Some. However, the truth is, They are fine young men, amazing to watch in everything they do, and I'm honored to know them. They've taught me more than they will ever realize, and because of them, I will be able to finally, somehow, follow some of my dreams. Because of them, when I look at all the dreams I had (when I was right where they are now), I realize that my real ideal - what I shared with my small group - is somewhere in the family of project management for an organization like Habitat. I was afraid to share the realization with them, but suddenly the air was alive with ideas, suggestions, affirmations. I was surprised, and taken aback. I don't recall ever having been in so supportive a spot. These new people in my life, with whom I share rather tenuous connection, told me where where they saw the connections in my life to this newborn dream. And they made me feel loved. In the space of minutes, they had me working internationally, on a schedule that fit my entire family, as well as all the fun things I like to do: dance, sew, write, paint. In those moments, they gave me a clipboard, a cap, a passport full of stamps, and a couple of new languages. A sense of being, and gave my wildest dreams life. More than even encouraging me, they supported me. My heart and I are on our way.
Showing posts with label hopes and dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hopes and dreams. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Sunday, November 24, 2013
you may not know
I finally managed to come up with 10.....
1. I really miss wearing contacts.
2. My glasses are always filthy -- from tears on the inside of them, and from who knows what on the outside.
3. I've never needed a passport. And that makes me a little bit sad.
4. When Dad died, I was in the middle of choreographing a dance for my grandmother. I promised at his funeral to make one for him, but never did. All of it was in me, and I still watch it in my head, sometimes.
5. I used to want a tattoo. The argument with myself over visible vs hidden got to be unwinable, so it'll likely never happen.
6. I'm still trying to figure out what else I want to be when I grow up--I'm closer, but still not there.
7. In high school, I wanted to major in International Law and Languages, and work at the UN. My guidance counselor talked me out of that, and every one of my dream jobs. My favorite class at college was Hospitality Law. Go figure!
8. Zip lines are my favorite way to fly.
9. Favorite place I have ever been is Hawaii. Arizona is a close second. St George Island, Florida, is third.
10. My only real phobia is auditioning, which is related to being talked out of dream jobs when I was 17.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
yes, it counts
This week I attended a training that felt like a turning point in my life. The funny thing is, within moments of the class beginning, I was annoyed. The training was on Project Management; an area of management theory with which I had about zero exposure to. Practical application, however, is another story, and that's where my annoyance came into play. There were interns in the room, and the statement was made that since they were "only students" they obviously had little to no PM experience, and any of us who were not management level likely had a fairly small amount of experience. Mom that I am, I immediately felt defensive for the interns--as far as I could tell, from my fairly recent college classes and watching and guiding my own kids, students use a ton of Project Management skills. Oh, and did I mention I felt particularly Mom-like? I also took the comment a little personally. Isn't raising a family of four children a major Project?
The first day of the class slowly proved me wrong. There are few times when I have dealt with deliverables or work breakdown structures. Unless getting everyone to games/practice/performances/church in one piece, and relatively in a reasonable state of mind counts as a deliverable! The first day also involved group work--not one of my favorite activities!
The second day was more my speed. Scheduling and finding critical paths, slack and float, all added up to the way I have always organized my work, my play, my life. I sent my husband a text: "I. Love. This." And he responded that he was not surprised. He has often told me that he sees me as a business analyst, and in his experience, the two go hand in hand. Quite a few years ago, we had an addition put on the house. The contractor told me one day about the next phase of the project, and the research he would be doing at home prior to getting my input. His wife had recently had a baby, and I knew what it was like to have a newborn, and a husband who had to work after work. I sat at our computer and did the research while he continued to work, and by the end of the day had taken care of the decisions that would have to be made, and had made up a loose schedule of dates that would work, based on what he had told me. At his daily wrap-up, he told us that I would make a fantastic project manager. I've always wondered just what that meant.
While I'd love to get certified, or get a degree in project management, it's likely a dream that will stay more nebulous than real. I'm satisfied--for now--knowing that I not only know the skills and have the tools for project management, but that I've been using them for ages without giving them a second thought. Hopefully, there will be other classes, and practical applications that relate to 'worker me.' In the meantime, here's one more reason why Momming is a valid section on my resume.
I'm not the one that needs convincing, though!
The first day of the class slowly proved me wrong. There are few times when I have dealt with deliverables or work breakdown structures. Unless getting everyone to games/practice/performances/church in one piece, and relatively in a reasonable state of mind counts as a deliverable! The first day also involved group work--not one of my favorite activities!
The second day was more my speed. Scheduling and finding critical paths, slack and float, all added up to the way I have always organized my work, my play, my life. I sent my husband a text: "I. Love. This." And he responded that he was not surprised. He has often told me that he sees me as a business analyst, and in his experience, the two go hand in hand. Quite a few years ago, we had an addition put on the house. The contractor told me one day about the next phase of the project, and the research he would be doing at home prior to getting my input. His wife had recently had a baby, and I knew what it was like to have a newborn, and a husband who had to work after work. I sat at our computer and did the research while he continued to work, and by the end of the day had taken care of the decisions that would have to be made, and had made up a loose schedule of dates that would work, based on what he had told me. At his daily wrap-up, he told us that I would make a fantastic project manager. I've always wondered just what that meant.
While I'd love to get certified, or get a degree in project management, it's likely a dream that will stay more nebulous than real. I'm satisfied--for now--knowing that I not only know the skills and have the tools for project management, but that I've been using them for ages without giving them a second thought. Hopefully, there will be other classes, and practical applications that relate to 'worker me.' In the meantime, here's one more reason why Momming is a valid section on my resume.
I'm not the one that needs convincing, though!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
a pretty day
This morning, my husband asked me to marry him. Down on one knee, looking into my eyes, and holding my hands in his.
To some, this may seem strange. In fact, to many, this may seem like an odd question for him to ask me. We've been through quite an upheaval lately, with so many roots and causes, but, bottom line we'd let our selves go a bit. Our true selves. Somewhere along the line, with four kids, two dogs, five jobs, the death of two parents, and countless volunteer obligations, we managed to lose sight of the simplest of tenets of a healthy relationship: we stopped talking with our hearts. Sure, we spoke to each other, shared some news, some hopes and dreams, some fears, but the time to open up and share the tough subjects kept slipping away.
We'd argue about that from time to time. And there were certainly times when we caught ourselves sharing the thoughts we most feared sharing. Over the past few weeks, we have rediscovered the intimacy that comes from heart talking. More than anything, what we have learned is that the more we talk, the more we want to talk. And the more we want to talk, the more in love we fall. In all honesty, it feels, for both of us, like the first time we've ever been in love. And it's such a wonderful, refreshing feeling.
About a year ago, I read something about staying married being a daily choice. It resonated with me. I remember, too, that at the time, when I shared that thought with my husband, he balked. He said that being married just is, and we were already married, so there was no choice to be made. He thought it was silly. Still, to me, the idea that each morning I should make a choice in how I lived, that I could decide each morning, when I looked in the mirror, whether I would be a married woman, or someone else. Since that day, I have overwhelmingly chosen married woman. And the result has been overwhelming, too.
Not long ago, my husband asked how I got through those days when I have doubts--about being a mother, being myself, being in love. There are so many times when I have those doubts; those nagging feelings that I'm not doing my best, that what I'm doing is either not right or not appreciated, even the times when I wonder if I really love being a mom, being me, or even if I really love him. The simple answer is, "I do." I do love my role, my vocation, and my husband. I really do--I stood in front of a whole bunch of people 21 years ago and said so, after all! In response to his confused look, I responded,
"When I wonder, when I doubt, especially our love, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason that I fell in love, I ask myself, 'Do I love him?' And the answer is always, 'Yes, I do. I do.' And when I tell myself I do, I then begin to remember the little things--the special look, the conversations, the laughter, the tears--and I remember why I love him. The doubts fade away, as they should."
Since that day, I've managed to avoid most of the doubts entirely, but I know that is likely because of all the talking we've been doing. When school starts, and the secondary jobs pick up again, and the craziness of parenting pulls us in many directions at once, they may return once in a while. I'm fairly certain, as long as we make time for conversation--deep hearted, true sharing--the frequency will decrease. We've found what we've been missing, and, honestly, we can't bear to let it go. Ever again.
I said yes.
To some, this may seem strange. In fact, to many, this may seem like an odd question for him to ask me. We've been through quite an upheaval lately, with so many roots and causes, but, bottom line we'd let our selves go a bit. Our true selves. Somewhere along the line, with four kids, two dogs, five jobs, the death of two parents, and countless volunteer obligations, we managed to lose sight of the simplest of tenets of a healthy relationship: we stopped talking with our hearts. Sure, we spoke to each other, shared some news, some hopes and dreams, some fears, but the time to open up and share the tough subjects kept slipping away.
We'd argue about that from time to time. And there were certainly times when we caught ourselves sharing the thoughts we most feared sharing. Over the past few weeks, we have rediscovered the intimacy that comes from heart talking. More than anything, what we have learned is that the more we talk, the more we want to talk. And the more we want to talk, the more in love we fall. In all honesty, it feels, for both of us, like the first time we've ever been in love. And it's such a wonderful, refreshing feeling.
About a year ago, I read something about staying married being a daily choice. It resonated with me. I remember, too, that at the time, when I shared that thought with my husband, he balked. He said that being married just is, and we were already married, so there was no choice to be made. He thought it was silly. Still, to me, the idea that each morning I should make a choice in how I lived, that I could decide each morning, when I looked in the mirror, whether I would be a married woman, or someone else. Since that day, I have overwhelmingly chosen married woman. And the result has been overwhelming, too.
Not long ago, my husband asked how I got through those days when I have doubts--about being a mother, being myself, being in love. There are so many times when I have those doubts; those nagging feelings that I'm not doing my best, that what I'm doing is either not right or not appreciated, even the times when I wonder if I really love being a mom, being me, or even if I really love him. The simple answer is, "I do." I do love my role, my vocation, and my husband. I really do--I stood in front of a whole bunch of people 21 years ago and said so, after all! In response to his confused look, I responded,
"When I wonder, when I doubt, especially our love, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason that I fell in love, I ask myself, 'Do I love him?' And the answer is always, 'Yes, I do. I do.' And when I tell myself I do, I then begin to remember the little things--the special look, the conversations, the laughter, the tears--and I remember why I love him. The doubts fade away, as they should."
Since that day, I've managed to avoid most of the doubts entirely, but I know that is likely because of all the talking we've been doing. When school starts, and the secondary jobs pick up again, and the craziness of parenting pulls us in many directions at once, they may return once in a while. I'm fairly certain, as long as we make time for conversation--deep hearted, true sharing--the frequency will decrease. We've found what we've been missing, and, honestly, we can't bear to let it go. Ever again.
I said yes.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
18 february 2012
Dear Dad,
Been thinking about you and your red sneakers lately. Guess I'm wishing we could go for a walk, the way we always did before the boys were born. Thinking about it now, I wonder why we stopped taking those day trips and walking around looking at stuff--and looking for a great ice cream or fro-yo shop. You had such a knack for finding them! Nowadays, I would think you had Googled them before we left, but there was nothing but your good nose, and maybe some work connection that had visited before. Today, I'm wishing we could do that again. My guys don't see ice cream as a treat so much; rather, to them it's a staple. Sorry about that. I still remember, though.
Anyway, with Jonathan's college search, I find myself remembering our discussions from my own days debating my options. This morning, at Drew's Confirmation breakfast Mass, Msgr King encouraged the parents and sponsors to allow and encourage our confirmandi to make life decisions; to learn who they are, to make mistakes, to cry, to rejoice, and to grow into the adults they are destined to be. I had a wonderful example in you. Although, looking back, there is a part of me that wishes you and Mom and my teachers had just flat out told me what to do, I do appreciate that you left my college choices to me. I remember the late night talks we'd have in the kitchen, discussing the relative merits of fields of study as diverse as Social Work and International Law, the reasons Hotel/Restaurant Management was perfect for me, and then, of course, why Hotel/Restaurant Management was so not me, so clearly I should change my major to Recreation and Leisure Management. And after that, why it made such perfect sense for me to leave school with an AS, and go back in two years or so to get a Bachelor's in Secondary Education, so I could be an English teacher. There are times when I wish I could have told you that I wish fewer people had told me I had the talents and intelligence to be whatever I wanted to be. I don't know if I ever told you that my real dream was to go to SUNY Purchase and study dance. God only knows what I had planned to do with the rest of my life, but not having the nerve to audition has been the only real regret I've ever had. I doubt that I told you, because I'm fairly certain you would have gladly taken me, and waited outside the door, and given me one of those wonderful left-arm hugs before I even had a chance to change my shoes. We're trying to be as open-minded and supportive of Jonathan. It's scary and exciting all at once, and I wish you were here to reassure us, to give us pointers. To offer one of those hugs that had a way of making everything okay.
We're slowly working on some of those house projects I'd hoped you would be able to help with. The boys have pulled up that hideous carpet, and we just need to decide what we'll do with the floor now. The chimney still need to be tiled, and I was just looking at the ceiling today and remembering how devoted you were to breaking off each and every one of the 'stalagtites' in the bathroom and the front bedrooms when we moved in. They do--still--look far better than they had, and I thank you for it every time I look up at them. The kitchen is the next thing on the agenda, I think, and every time I think about it, I picture you, Guy and Ryan debating who should be the first to break through the wall to the outside. Sometimes, I look around and think that you would have helped get some project or other done faster, but then I remember that even if you had moved here, you'd be busy, too. You'd have made a life here, and many of the projects would have taken a backseat to life--just like they do now. And I smile with relief. We're doing okay; the best we can with what we have, as far as time and money. It'll all be okay.
So, in a nutshell, I guess I want to make sure you know that we're doing well. I'm doing okay. There are ups and downs, and times when I get angry, confused, frustrated, lonely, but there are more times when I see the blessings in my life: the boys (including Guy), our home, our jobs, our friends and families. Life is really good. It would be better if you were here, but we--I--have to make the most of what we have today. What could have been is fine to think about now and then, but it's only made up. Realness helps to make what could be possible. That's my focus. Thank you for giving me the strength to be me; for encouraging me to make my own life happen. That helped me to find the people I need when I find myself faltering. I love you. I miss you with all my heart--often. But now, it's more often a gentle tug, and feels almost 'right.'
Have a piece of cake for me, and I'll do the same.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Stephania
xoxo
Been thinking about you and your red sneakers lately. Guess I'm wishing we could go for a walk, the way we always did before the boys were born. Thinking about it now, I wonder why we stopped taking those day trips and walking around looking at stuff--and looking for a great ice cream or fro-yo shop. You had such a knack for finding them! Nowadays, I would think you had Googled them before we left, but there was nothing but your good nose, and maybe some work connection that had visited before. Today, I'm wishing we could do that again. My guys don't see ice cream as a treat so much; rather, to them it's a staple. Sorry about that. I still remember, though.
Anyway, with Jonathan's college search, I find myself remembering our discussions from my own days debating my options. This morning, at Drew's Confirmation breakfast Mass, Msgr King encouraged the parents and sponsors to allow and encourage our confirmandi to make life decisions; to learn who they are, to make mistakes, to cry, to rejoice, and to grow into the adults they are destined to be. I had a wonderful example in you. Although, looking back, there is a part of me that wishes you and Mom and my teachers had just flat out told me what to do, I do appreciate that you left my college choices to me. I remember the late night talks we'd have in the kitchen, discussing the relative merits of fields of study as diverse as Social Work and International Law, the reasons Hotel/Restaurant Management was perfect for me, and then, of course, why Hotel/Restaurant Management was so not me, so clearly I should change my major to Recreation and Leisure Management. And after that, why it made such perfect sense for me to leave school with an AS, and go back in two years or so to get a Bachelor's in Secondary Education, so I could be an English teacher. There are times when I wish I could have told you that I wish fewer people had told me I had the talents and intelligence to be whatever I wanted to be. I don't know if I ever told you that my real dream was to go to SUNY Purchase and study dance. God only knows what I had planned to do with the rest of my life, but not having the nerve to audition has been the only real regret I've ever had. I doubt that I told you, because I'm fairly certain you would have gladly taken me, and waited outside the door, and given me one of those wonderful left-arm hugs before I even had a chance to change my shoes. We're trying to be as open-minded and supportive of Jonathan. It's scary and exciting all at once, and I wish you were here to reassure us, to give us pointers. To offer one of those hugs that had a way of making everything okay.
We're slowly working on some of those house projects I'd hoped you would be able to help with. The boys have pulled up that hideous carpet, and we just need to decide what we'll do with the floor now. The chimney still need to be tiled, and I was just looking at the ceiling today and remembering how devoted you were to breaking off each and every one of the 'stalagtites' in the bathroom and the front bedrooms when we moved in. They do--still--look far better than they had, and I thank you for it every time I look up at them. The kitchen is the next thing on the agenda, I think, and every time I think about it, I picture you, Guy and Ryan debating who should be the first to break through the wall to the outside. Sometimes, I look around and think that you would have helped get some project or other done faster, but then I remember that even if you had moved here, you'd be busy, too. You'd have made a life here, and many of the projects would have taken a backseat to life--just like they do now. And I smile with relief. We're doing okay; the best we can with what we have, as far as time and money. It'll all be okay.
So, in a nutshell, I guess I want to make sure you know that we're doing well. I'm doing okay. There are ups and downs, and times when I get angry, confused, frustrated, lonely, but there are more times when I see the blessings in my life: the boys (including Guy), our home, our jobs, our friends and families. Life is really good. It would be better if you were here, but we--I--have to make the most of what we have today. What could have been is fine to think about now and then, but it's only made up. Realness helps to make what could be possible. That's my focus. Thank you for giving me the strength to be me; for encouraging me to make my own life happen. That helped me to find the people I need when I find myself faltering. I love you. I miss you with all my heart--often. But now, it's more often a gentle tug, and feels almost 'right.'
Have a piece of cake for me, and I'll do the same.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Stephania
xoxo
Sunday, January 1, 2012
happy new year
January 1, 2012
I don't make New Year's resolutions.
That's not to say that I am against self-improvement, or new beginnings, or any of those things. Or that I shy away from them. Rather, I prefer to make life changing decisions when I am in the middle of my living, instead of in that gloriously lazy time between Christmas and New Year's Day. During that week, whether we have travelled for the holidays or not, there is far less for me to think about and do than at any other time during the year. The preparations for Christmas are finished; there's no school schedule to work around; practice schedules are modified or non-existent. The only obligations I really have are self-imposed, and as a naturally lazy person, are admittedly easy, if they exist at all.
I do take a little of that time to think about how I'd like to see the coming year shape up. There are things I'd like to accomplish, and dreams I'd like to see come true, but I know myself, and if I make promises to change my life while I'm being all fat and lazy, I will only disappoint myself. Instead, I wait a while. Besides, as soon as Christmas wrappings are cleaned up, I need to start thinking about finding just the right thing for my husband for our January anniversary. , and then I like to take some time to get excited about my birthday in February. (Looking forward like that gets me through the darktime of winter, which takes a toll on me!)
After my birthday, during that month of many birthdays, but not much else, I start to think about what I want to promise myself. In the years when I've made fitness goals, that's worked very well for me, as most of the 'Resolution Runners' have given up their treadmills and weight machines by then, leaving room for those who have stronger resolve, or more concrete goals. (There is, after all, a great difference between those who make a resolution to "get more exercise" and those who set a goal to "lose x# of pounds," "run x miles a week," or "fit into this again." The latter are far better company at the gym, and more successful, from what I've seen.)
And when I make the promises, I only make three at the most. Otherwise, how can I remember what it is I wanted to work on? Having fewer goals makes it easier for me to adjust them as needed, too, instead of abandoning an idea when it gets tough, or if it becomes clear that I've set my sights too high or too low than is reasonable. I want to challenge myself, but sometimes one year is not enough time to accomplish a change. Last February, I decided to pare down my stash of fabric. I was starting to get discouraged by about May, when I had not sewn anything at all, and decided I would need to re-evaluate: should I just dispose of smaller pieces? Drop them in the Community Aid box? Hold on to them some more and worry more about the larger pieces? As I gave myself time to consider this, I found a great book, One Yard Wonders, which gave me some fantastic ideas! I passed the late spring, summer, and into the Christmas season whipping up one small project after another. When my dryer was broken during a damp week in the summer, I even made a shirt to wear to work the next day so I could wait to hang clothes on the line--and then made a duplicate for a friend because she liked it so much! My stash is still pretty large, but getting more manageable. And it's become a habit...
Making these changes a habit is the ultimate goal for me, and that's the biggest reason I keep the list small. I can't make one thing a habit if I'm always thinking about all the other things on my list. As a result, my list also tends to have goals that are either very related, or so unrelated so as not to seem to belong together. It's my system, and it works for me. That's what matters.
It's inevitable, though, someone will ask what resolutions I've made. Depending on who asks, my answer varies from the honest to goodness truth about why I haven't made any, to a simple, "None," to the ironic: "To care less," (referring to a joke between me and my friend, Beth, that we sometimes wish we stressed more over the dumb little things like chipped nail polish so we wouldn't stress so much about big stuff, like jobs and bills) or "To bathe more" (referring to the fact that I would really like to soak in the tub and read for hours at a time on a daily basis, even though that's far from practical). I don't ask others. Anyone who shares with me, and asks for my support with them, will get it, but unless they are shared with me voluntarily, I don't see where it's my business. I do share my goals with others when I need to, but only with those whose support I can count on.
As always, I'm working on me; hoping to improve who I am as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, employee, neighbor, stranger. And along the way, I hope to help improve our home, our community, our school, and in some small way, our world. Currently, one scrap of fabric at a time.....
I don't make New Year's resolutions.
That's not to say that I am against self-improvement, or new beginnings, or any of those things. Or that I shy away from them. Rather, I prefer to make life changing decisions when I am in the middle of my living, instead of in that gloriously lazy time between Christmas and New Year's Day. During that week, whether we have travelled for the holidays or not, there is far less for me to think about and do than at any other time during the year. The preparations for Christmas are finished; there's no school schedule to work around; practice schedules are modified or non-existent. The only obligations I really have are self-imposed, and as a naturally lazy person, are admittedly easy, if they exist at all.
I do take a little of that time to think about how I'd like to see the coming year shape up. There are things I'd like to accomplish, and dreams I'd like to see come true, but I know myself, and if I make promises to change my life while I'm being all fat and lazy, I will only disappoint myself. Instead, I wait a while. Besides, as soon as Christmas wrappings are cleaned up, I need to start thinking about finding just the right thing for my husband for our January anniversary. , and then I like to take some time to get excited about my birthday in February. (Looking forward like that gets me through the darktime of winter, which takes a toll on me!)
After my birthday, during that month of many birthdays, but not much else, I start to think about what I want to promise myself. In the years when I've made fitness goals, that's worked very well for me, as most of the 'Resolution Runners' have given up their treadmills and weight machines by then, leaving room for those who have stronger resolve, or more concrete goals. (There is, after all, a great difference between those who make a resolution to "get more exercise" and those who set a goal to "lose x# of pounds," "run x miles a week," or "fit into this again." The latter are far better company at the gym, and more successful, from what I've seen.)
And when I make the promises, I only make three at the most. Otherwise, how can I remember what it is I wanted to work on? Having fewer goals makes it easier for me to adjust them as needed, too, instead of abandoning an idea when it gets tough, or if it becomes clear that I've set my sights too high or too low than is reasonable. I want to challenge myself, but sometimes one year is not enough time to accomplish a change. Last February, I decided to pare down my stash of fabric. I was starting to get discouraged by about May, when I had not sewn anything at all, and decided I would need to re-evaluate: should I just dispose of smaller pieces? Drop them in the Community Aid box? Hold on to them some more and worry more about the larger pieces? As I gave myself time to consider this, I found a great book, One Yard Wonders, which gave me some fantastic ideas! I passed the late spring, summer, and into the Christmas season whipping up one small project after another. When my dryer was broken during a damp week in the summer, I even made a shirt to wear to work the next day so I could wait to hang clothes on the line--and then made a duplicate for a friend because she liked it so much! My stash is still pretty large, but getting more manageable. And it's become a habit...
Making these changes a habit is the ultimate goal for me, and that's the biggest reason I keep the list small. I can't make one thing a habit if I'm always thinking about all the other things on my list. As a result, my list also tends to have goals that are either very related, or so unrelated so as not to seem to belong together. It's my system, and it works for me. That's what matters.
It's inevitable, though, someone will ask what resolutions I've made. Depending on who asks, my answer varies from the honest to goodness truth about why I haven't made any, to a simple, "None," to the ironic: "To care less," (referring to a joke between me and my friend, Beth, that we sometimes wish we stressed more over the dumb little things like chipped nail polish so we wouldn't stress so much about big stuff, like jobs and bills) or "To bathe more" (referring to the fact that I would really like to soak in the tub and read for hours at a time on a daily basis, even though that's far from practical). I don't ask others. Anyone who shares with me, and asks for my support with them, will get it, but unless they are shared with me voluntarily, I don't see where it's my business. I do share my goals with others when I need to, but only with those whose support I can count on.
As always, I'm working on me; hoping to improve who I am as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, employee, neighbor, stranger. And along the way, I hope to help improve our home, our community, our school, and in some small way, our world. Currently, one scrap of fabric at a time.....
Saturday, November 26, 2011
silver and gold
"Twelve months ago, I was told I was no good...."
So began the words spoken to the parents gathered after early morning practice on Thanksgiving morning. I don't think Coach intended to get emotional saying his words of thanks to us. From what I have seen of him in front of us, he tends more towards matter-of-fact when talking to parents. With the team, I hear he is pretty controlled, but does, on occasion, show some strong emotions.
Either which way, the words gave me chills when I heard them, and have been echoing through my mind ever since...
After all, a year ago, that's pretty much what the former coach had said about this very team of boys.
Last year, the team record was 1 and 9. The year before, 2 and 8. That coach's 'intensity' was something I personally found to be painful to watch. I expect coaches to be, shall we say, "excited," on the sideline, but he always seemed angry, irritable and frustrated. By the end of last season, I was keeping my own stats: counting how many times he had thrown something, screamed or waved his clipboard in someone's face, and judging what my son's mood would be on Saturday morning by how red the coach's face was. Around mid-season every year, there would be a rumor that it would be his last; he would retire at the end of the season. Among my friends in the stands, there was a certain hopefulness that went along with the rumor, but also a general, "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude.
The season ended last year with his retirement--and him saying that he had no desire to attend a football banquet. He went on to say that he wasn't even sure the boys deserved a banquet, after the season they had. He implied that we would be lucky to get a second-rate coach; that no one would want to work with these kids.
We pushed on. We had the banquet, and he did attend. None of us who knew what he'd said were happy about it, and would have loved to 'forget' his invitation, but we wanted--needed--to do the right thing for the players. As parents and fans, we had to stand behind our boys, no matter what. And we hoped for the future....
Our prayers were answered with a match made in heaven, it seems. A Coach who wasn't wanted and a team that was thrown away managed to finish the season with a more than respectable 7 and 5 record. More than that, they learned more from their new Coach than they had ever learned from the previous one. They learned that what they need is inside them. They learned to trust each other; to support each other. To take credit modestly, and to own up to mistakes with dignity.
They learned to be a team.
They learned, along with their new Coach, that their worth is not counted only in wins and losses, but in who they are--to each other, to the community, to themselves. They may have lost their championship final game, and brought home silver medals, but I still say that they are all, without a doubt, worth their weight in GOLD.
The season reads like a movie script, and I heard someone say before the last game that must mean they need a happy ending, a win, to finish it out. I almost agreed; I wanted a win, too. But, in reality, the happy ending for these guys is just beginning. The lessons they've learned are going to change their lives, and the lives of an entire community--just you wait.....
So began the words spoken to the parents gathered after early morning practice on Thanksgiving morning. I don't think Coach intended to get emotional saying his words of thanks to us. From what I have seen of him in front of us, he tends more towards matter-of-fact when talking to parents. With the team, I hear he is pretty controlled, but does, on occasion, show some strong emotions.
Either which way, the words gave me chills when I heard them, and have been echoing through my mind ever since...
After all, a year ago, that's pretty much what the former coach had said about this very team of boys.
Last year, the team record was 1 and 9. The year before, 2 and 8. That coach's 'intensity' was something I personally found to be painful to watch. I expect coaches to be, shall we say, "excited," on the sideline, but he always seemed angry, irritable and frustrated. By the end of last season, I was keeping my own stats: counting how many times he had thrown something, screamed or waved his clipboard in someone's face, and judging what my son's mood would be on Saturday morning by how red the coach's face was. Around mid-season every year, there would be a rumor that it would be his last; he would retire at the end of the season. Among my friends in the stands, there was a certain hopefulness that went along with the rumor, but also a general, "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude.
The season ended last year with his retirement--and him saying that he had no desire to attend a football banquet. He went on to say that he wasn't even sure the boys deserved a banquet, after the season they had. He implied that we would be lucky to get a second-rate coach; that no one would want to work with these kids.
We pushed on. We had the banquet, and he did attend. None of us who knew what he'd said were happy about it, and would have loved to 'forget' his invitation, but we wanted--needed--to do the right thing for the players. As parents and fans, we had to stand behind our boys, no matter what. And we hoped for the future....
Our prayers were answered with a match made in heaven, it seems. A Coach who wasn't wanted and a team that was thrown away managed to finish the season with a more than respectable 7 and 5 record. More than that, they learned more from their new Coach than they had ever learned from the previous one. They learned that what they need is inside them. They learned to trust each other; to support each other. To take credit modestly, and to own up to mistakes with dignity.
They learned to be a team.
They learned, along with their new Coach, that their worth is not counted only in wins and losses, but in who they are--to each other, to the community, to themselves. They may have lost their championship final game, and brought home silver medals, but I still say that they are all, without a doubt, worth their weight in GOLD.
The season reads like a movie script, and I heard someone say before the last game that must mean they need a happy ending, a win, to finish it out. I almost agreed; I wanted a win, too. But, in reality, the happy ending for these guys is just beginning. The lessons they've learned are going to change their lives, and the lives of an entire community--just you wait.....
Thursday, November 17, 2011
thanks, coach
Dear Coach~
You are quite a motivational speaker. The first time I met you, you had been working with my son and the team for a short time. They had been lifting weights a bit, nothing really serious, as I recall, but you had taken the time to get to know them a little. A couple of the assistant coaches from the previous years had remained on your staff, and I was impressed that they shared so much information about the boys' talents, strengths and weaknesses with you. And also impressed that you had listened, but said that you were committed to making your own judgements.
In fact, there were many things you told us you were committed to that evening. You talked about so many different ways you wanted to change things with this team, and you promised to be accessible to us, as well as to the boys. Some things didn't materialize (this year. I have every confidence that this will grow and continue to develop.), but other things took off. That first evening, though, what most amazed me is still that I left the meeting excited about the football season.
Coach, you promised that you would take our boys and help them to become men. You promised that they would, by the end of the season, be a team, a family. You even were so bold as to promise that they would have a winning season, probably even a playoff season. I hope you understood how difficult that was to swallow. I, for one, had seen my son's team lose far more than win, and I'd never expected to meet an approachable football coach. But, somehow, you convinced me.
With your guidance, these boys have changed. You told them, in the early weight room sessions, that they can't give up in the third quarter; that the game isn't over until the clock winds down. When I run now, I break the route down into rough quarters, and tell myself the same thing. And I've watched as the team has played--really played--until the very end of the game; they just don't give up. It's great to see.
One thing you have held fast to is their position as role models in the community. At first, it didn't seem they realized, or cared, that community members recognized them. They wore their jerseys the same as they always had. Now, just three months later, they carry themselves differently in their jerseys. It's difficult to explain, but they have a new bearing. They care. All those weeks of reading that the upperclassmen did really got through to them: these kids know them. The questions the kids ask are real, and make the boys think on their feet. They've seen the support that comes from admiration, and they began to understand the responsibility associated with wearing any uniform. They then passed that self-respect on to the underclassmen. The end result is an entire team that looks forward to being able to read to kids.
Your view of pregame meals and Senior dinners has been simple genius. Sitting down to a meal is different from grabbing some food on the run. Despite the buffet style so necessary or efficient in feeding so many at one time, the team sits together and talks. Decompresses. Relaxes a little. Calms those nerves.
Coach, I would like to thank you for coming to our team. I believe in what you have started here: the new traditions, the ideas you have, the dreams you see coming true. Most of all, I would like to say that I appreciate the mutual respect you have fostered. These guys, as you promised, look out for each other. I've heard them extend credit to other team members when paid a compliment. I've heard them say that they have learned from mistakes made in practice or in games, and that the next one will be even better. And I've heard you commend the team, rather than take compliments for yourself. More than once, you have thanked us, as parents, for the sons we have raised. We--the parents, and you--the coaches, have become a good team, too. Thank you.
Thank you for believing. Thank you for pushing. Thank you for your faith in a bunch of people who you'd never met. Thank you for being honest--with us and with our children. Thank you for being the type of coach who really does do this job for the love of the kids first, and the game second. Thank you for an unforgettable season. The winning, I'd like to say, is just icing on the cake, but I'd be lying. Without the winning, the rest would still have been there, but it might have been harder to see. So thanks for that, too.
Warmly,
a converted Football Mom
You are quite a motivational speaker. The first time I met you, you had been working with my son and the team for a short time. They had been lifting weights a bit, nothing really serious, as I recall, but you had taken the time to get to know them a little. A couple of the assistant coaches from the previous years had remained on your staff, and I was impressed that they shared so much information about the boys' talents, strengths and weaknesses with you. And also impressed that you had listened, but said that you were committed to making your own judgements.
In fact, there were many things you told us you were committed to that evening. You talked about so many different ways you wanted to change things with this team, and you promised to be accessible to us, as well as to the boys. Some things didn't materialize (this year. I have every confidence that this will grow and continue to develop.), but other things took off. That first evening, though, what most amazed me is still that I left the meeting excited about the football season.
Coach, you promised that you would take our boys and help them to become men. You promised that they would, by the end of the season, be a team, a family. You even were so bold as to promise that they would have a winning season, probably even a playoff season. I hope you understood how difficult that was to swallow. I, for one, had seen my son's team lose far more than win, and I'd never expected to meet an approachable football coach. But, somehow, you convinced me.
With your guidance, these boys have changed. You told them, in the early weight room sessions, that they can't give up in the third quarter; that the game isn't over until the clock winds down. When I run now, I break the route down into rough quarters, and tell myself the same thing. And I've watched as the team has played--really played--until the very end of the game; they just don't give up. It's great to see.
One thing you have held fast to is their position as role models in the community. At first, it didn't seem they realized, or cared, that community members recognized them. They wore their jerseys the same as they always had. Now, just three months later, they carry themselves differently in their jerseys. It's difficult to explain, but they have a new bearing. They care. All those weeks of reading that the upperclassmen did really got through to them: these kids know them. The questions the kids ask are real, and make the boys think on their feet. They've seen the support that comes from admiration, and they began to understand the responsibility associated with wearing any uniform. They then passed that self-respect on to the underclassmen. The end result is an entire team that looks forward to being able to read to kids.
Your view of pregame meals and Senior dinners has been simple genius. Sitting down to a meal is different from grabbing some food on the run. Despite the buffet style so necessary or efficient in feeding so many at one time, the team sits together and talks. Decompresses. Relaxes a little. Calms those nerves.
Coach, I would like to thank you for coming to our team. I believe in what you have started here: the new traditions, the ideas you have, the dreams you see coming true. Most of all, I would like to say that I appreciate the mutual respect you have fostered. These guys, as you promised, look out for each other. I've heard them extend credit to other team members when paid a compliment. I've heard them say that they have learned from mistakes made in practice or in games, and that the next one will be even better. And I've heard you commend the team, rather than take compliments for yourself. More than once, you have thanked us, as parents, for the sons we have raised. We--the parents, and you--the coaches, have become a good team, too. Thank you.
Thank you for believing. Thank you for pushing. Thank you for your faith in a bunch of people who you'd never met. Thank you for being honest--with us and with our children. Thank you for being the type of coach who really does do this job for the love of the kids first, and the game second. Thank you for an unforgettable season. The winning, I'd like to say, is just icing on the cake, but I'd be lying. Without the winning, the rest would still have been there, but it might have been harder to see. So thanks for that, too.
Warmly,
a converted Football Mom
Sunday, October 30, 2011
what you've heard really is true
I have very few regrets in my life, and, fortunately, the ones I do have are more related to opportunities I've passed up rather than things I have done that I shouldn't have. Still, there are lessons I've learned, and truths that have been revealed along the way. Nobody wants to hear anyone say, "some day you'll understand," but if I could write a letter to my younger self....
Dear Teenage Me,
There are so many things you need to know about yourself--far more than you think you already know. You will change. Your life will change, and life will change you, and there is no way to know which is affecting which more, or what the end result will be. That much you know, although the extent is unknown to all but the Spirit you most believe in.
For now, be true to yourself. I know you think "fitting in" is all-important, but I've come to realize that everyone else in the room has the same goal. None of your friends has cornered the market on what is "cool" or "fresh" or "legit" or whatever it is you and your friends call it. Neither has the media. Your parents may seem old-fashioned--and in some ways they are, to be sure!--but they did live through the same pressures that you did. Really, they did. Absolutely, "things were different then," but that doesn't change the fact that every adolescent has had to deal with severe and difficult peer pressure. Not many people make it through High School without some kind of story to tell, and even fewer would say that they would do it all exactly the same way, given the choice. Or that they would want the same experience for the children in their lives. Unfortunately, in an effort to forget the pain and difficulties of being a teenager, far too many adults say, "You don't know how easy you have it." But instead of tuning them out, or getting annoyed with them, ask questions. And drop the attitude when you ask; listen for a real answer, and if you don't get one, ask again.
As adults, we don't really like to be questioned. We'll try to brush off the questions; to give you easy answers that don't really tell you anything. Ask anyway.
Don't ask questions that you don't really want the answers to. Ask what will help you. Ask how we dealt with peer pressure, with bullying, with breakups and first love. Ask if the risks were worth it; how they might have changed our lives, our ideas about ourselves, our parenting now. And listen carefully to how we feel about reputations back then--whether it still matters what those friends thought of us at the time.
Be true to yourself. You may think that you are, because you are doing what you want to do instead of what your parents want you to do, but are you really? How important is it, really, to do what someone else is doing? To wear what someone else is, to act like someone else? Does it really make that person your friend? As a little kid, the game of Follow the Leader is fun and silly, but as a teenager, it can become confusing, frightening, and downright dangerous. Don't always follow. I've learned that wearing and doing what I like has led to people saying that I have "a great sense of style," even on the days when I am just wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Dressing like the fashion magazines, pop stars, or the popular kids at school just adds up to a uniform. Trust me on that.Yes, it's fun to have new clothes and to be fashionable, but only if it is both flattering and comfortable to do so, otherwise, you might as well be a lemming.
And don't risk your own self for the sake of what someone will think of you. If he breaks up with you because you won't have sex, he'd just have broken your heart some other way, but at least he won't have taken a piece of your being with you. If she teases you for being a sentimental boy, she may not be comfortable enough with her own feelings to allow you yours. Is that worth your heart? If others' behavior is risky, obscene, or just plain idiotic, they are not strong enough themselves to be someone to emulate. Those who respect themselves are the ones who people remember and respect the most in the long run.
You will be told, "Everyone is...." You will tell your parents, "Everyone is....." When you say it to your parents, you know it's a lie; therefore, you should probably consider that when you hear it, too. That's the hard part. I mean it, that is the hardest part.
The things you do to try to fit in, and that can only be explained with that reason, are usually the things that will get you into trouble. End of story. Those who are at the top of that food chain don't even really want to get to know the real you. Spend more time worrying about how you want to be remembered later than about what will be said tonight. Remember that no matter how big or small your school/neighborhood/town might be, it really is tiny, and news about regrettable acts travels far faster than that of strength and character.
Strive to be YOU. And remember that your kids will ask you questions, too. Live the way you want to answer them. Yes, you will make mistakes, and you will do things that don't fit your own view of yourself. Best to admit them, face them, and allow the people who truly have your best interests at heart to help you sort through them. That's not likely to be anyone in that crowd who was with you at the time. No, it's more likely to be your parents, a teacher, an adult you trust--someone who's been there and has had time to reflect.
You probably stopped reading a long time ago. I remember feeling preached to, and zoning out and ignoring any advice from adults. I hope, if that's the case, with all my heart, that you make better choices than your peers. That you become a leader, or even a lone wolf, because you believe in yourself.
Because I believe in you.
I really do.
And I'm here for you.
Warmly,
Me
Dear Teenage Me,
There are so many things you need to know about yourself--far more than you think you already know. You will change. Your life will change, and life will change you, and there is no way to know which is affecting which more, or what the end result will be. That much you know, although the extent is unknown to all but the Spirit you most believe in.
For now, be true to yourself. I know you think "fitting in" is all-important, but I've come to realize that everyone else in the room has the same goal. None of your friends has cornered the market on what is "cool" or "fresh" or "legit" or whatever it is you and your friends call it. Neither has the media. Your parents may seem old-fashioned--and in some ways they are, to be sure!--but they did live through the same pressures that you did. Really, they did. Absolutely, "things were different then," but that doesn't change the fact that every adolescent has had to deal with severe and difficult peer pressure. Not many people make it through High School without some kind of story to tell, and even fewer would say that they would do it all exactly the same way, given the choice. Or that they would want the same experience for the children in their lives. Unfortunately, in an effort to forget the pain and difficulties of being a teenager, far too many adults say, "You don't know how easy you have it." But instead of tuning them out, or getting annoyed with them, ask questions. And drop the attitude when you ask; listen for a real answer, and if you don't get one, ask again.
As adults, we don't really like to be questioned. We'll try to brush off the questions; to give you easy answers that don't really tell you anything. Ask anyway.
Don't ask questions that you don't really want the answers to. Ask what will help you. Ask how we dealt with peer pressure, with bullying, with breakups and first love. Ask if the risks were worth it; how they might have changed our lives, our ideas about ourselves, our parenting now. And listen carefully to how we feel about reputations back then--whether it still matters what those friends thought of us at the time.
Be true to yourself. You may think that you are, because you are doing what you want to do instead of what your parents want you to do, but are you really? How important is it, really, to do what someone else is doing? To wear what someone else is, to act like someone else? Does it really make that person your friend? As a little kid, the game of Follow the Leader is fun and silly, but as a teenager, it can become confusing, frightening, and downright dangerous. Don't always follow. I've learned that wearing and doing what I like has led to people saying that I have "a great sense of style," even on the days when I am just wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Dressing like the fashion magazines, pop stars, or the popular kids at school just adds up to a uniform. Trust me on that.Yes, it's fun to have new clothes and to be fashionable, but only if it is both flattering and comfortable to do so, otherwise, you might as well be a lemming.
And don't risk your own self for the sake of what someone will think of you. If he breaks up with you because you won't have sex, he'd just have broken your heart some other way, but at least he won't have taken a piece of your being with you. If she teases you for being a sentimental boy, she may not be comfortable enough with her own feelings to allow you yours. Is that worth your heart? If others' behavior is risky, obscene, or just plain idiotic, they are not strong enough themselves to be someone to emulate. Those who respect themselves are the ones who people remember and respect the most in the long run.
You will be told, "Everyone is...." You will tell your parents, "Everyone is....." When you say it to your parents, you know it's a lie; therefore, you should probably consider that when you hear it, too. That's the hard part. I mean it, that is the hardest part.
The things you do to try to fit in, and that can only be explained with that reason, are usually the things that will get you into trouble. End of story. Those who are at the top of that food chain don't even really want to get to know the real you. Spend more time worrying about how you want to be remembered later than about what will be said tonight. Remember that no matter how big or small your school/neighborhood/town might be, it really is tiny, and news about regrettable acts travels far faster than that of strength and character.
Strive to be YOU. And remember that your kids will ask you questions, too. Live the way you want to answer them. Yes, you will make mistakes, and you will do things that don't fit your own view of yourself. Best to admit them, face them, and allow the people who truly have your best interests at heart to help you sort through them. That's not likely to be anyone in that crowd who was with you at the time. No, it's more likely to be your parents, a teacher, an adult you trust--someone who's been there and has had time to reflect.
You probably stopped reading a long time ago. I remember feeling preached to, and zoning out and ignoring any advice from adults. I hope, if that's the case, with all my heart, that you make better choices than your peers. That you become a leader, or even a lone wolf, because you believe in yourself.
Because I believe in you.
I really do.
And I'm here for you.
Warmly,
Me
Monday, October 10, 2011
a wonderous avocation
The Buddha says, "Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it." I have the quote hanging on my mirror, and I've seen it every day for about a year. Yet the full meaning didn't occur to me until yoga class today.
~~this little light of mine~~
One of the differences between going to a yoga class and practicing at home on my own is the prompt to set an intention for the day's practice. At home alone, it's so easy to forget, or even purposely skip this important step in the process. Today, we were encouraged to set an intention related to something we love to do, and that we would like to make our life's work, or if we are already working at our life's dream, how we can more fully open up to the universal ability to find true happiness. As I considered this, Shani went on to encourage us to open up and search less diligently, thereby allowing that for which we search to appear before us.
~~I'm gonna let it shine~~
I love practicing yoga because there is peace and stillness inside me that I don't always recognize or honor. Some days, I'm too busy or rushed to sneak in the 20-30 minutes from Yoga Download, even though when I do fit it in, I feel like a better person. The focus on balance and breathing brings me back to my center, back to the me that I like to be. When I am centered and balanced, I can see my happiness, and it's not in 'stuff' at all. My life's work, my world, is to create. I am at peace with the possibility that I may not ever make enough money to live off of, but it is very important for me to give myself to creating.
~~this little light of mine~~
In the meditation today, we were encouraged to surround ourselves with people and circumstances that make our life's work possible. Without realizing that I was working toward this moment, I have been so surrounding myself since my father died. A friend who is a minister told me one day, when I confided that I was getting a little tired of people saying they knew 'exactly' how I felt, and that I should just 'move on,' that if they were not being kind, there was no reason to keep them. Ever since, I've been a bit more selective. More guarded, at times, but really just more aware of the fact that I am me, and I intend always to be me, and only me. As a result, I create more for fun, and I also have "discovered" two opportunities to find homes for my creations (as random and varied as they may be), and I have a blog. What more could I ask for?
~~I'm gonna let it shine~~
Why did this strike such a chord with me, since I was well on my way on my own? All because of one big, wonderful, daunting word. My Buddha quote tells me that I should find my heart's happiness, but this morning, this was posed as our "responsibility." That changes everything! All this time, I've been looking rather nonchalantly--yet finding success, albeit moderate success. Imagine if I had seen creating--my world--as a responsibility rather than as something I find to be fun, entertaining, relaxing, centering. My life could change, and I am open to it, open to the universal aid of those before me and those ahead. Good things will happen, I'm sure of it, and in my spare time, to boot.
~~let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!~~
~~this little light of mine~~
One of the differences between going to a yoga class and practicing at home on my own is the prompt to set an intention for the day's practice. At home alone, it's so easy to forget, or even purposely skip this important step in the process. Today, we were encouraged to set an intention related to something we love to do, and that we would like to make our life's work, or if we are already working at our life's dream, how we can more fully open up to the universal ability to find true happiness. As I considered this, Shani went on to encourage us to open up and search less diligently, thereby allowing that for which we search to appear before us.
~~I'm gonna let it shine~~
I love practicing yoga because there is peace and stillness inside me that I don't always recognize or honor. Some days, I'm too busy or rushed to sneak in the 20-30 minutes from Yoga Download, even though when I do fit it in, I feel like a better person. The focus on balance and breathing brings me back to my center, back to the me that I like to be. When I am centered and balanced, I can see my happiness, and it's not in 'stuff' at all. My life's work, my world, is to create. I am at peace with the possibility that I may not ever make enough money to live off of, but it is very important for me to give myself to creating.
~~this little light of mine~~
In the meditation today, we were encouraged to surround ourselves with people and circumstances that make our life's work possible. Without realizing that I was working toward this moment, I have been so surrounding myself since my father died. A friend who is a minister told me one day, when I confided that I was getting a little tired of people saying they knew 'exactly' how I felt, and that I should just 'move on,' that if they were not being kind, there was no reason to keep them. Ever since, I've been a bit more selective. More guarded, at times, but really just more aware of the fact that I am me, and I intend always to be me, and only me. As a result, I create more for fun, and I also have "discovered" two opportunities to find homes for my creations (as random and varied as they may be), and I have a blog. What more could I ask for?
~~I'm gonna let it shine~~
Why did this strike such a chord with me, since I was well on my way on my own? All because of one big, wonderful, daunting word. My Buddha quote tells me that I should find my heart's happiness, but this morning, this was posed as our "responsibility." That changes everything! All this time, I've been looking rather nonchalantly--yet finding success, albeit moderate success. Imagine if I had seen creating--my world--as a responsibility rather than as something I find to be fun, entertaining, relaxing, centering. My life could change, and I am open to it, open to the universal aid of those before me and those ahead. Good things will happen, I'm sure of it, and in my spare time, to boot.
~~let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!~~
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