The Beginning of New, Begun

As the days start to cool and get shorter

As the sun's warmth wanes

Think of this not as the end of summer

But the transition to leaves gaining color

As the clock's hands sweep the dial

Nature shows off her brilliant arts

Think of this not as the end of one

But the beginning of new, begun

Love Was Locked in the Trunk

 

I put my foot on the gas, leaving Trust and Openness holding hands on the side of the road, watching them get smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror. Alone was sitting in the passenger seat. Love was in the trunk.

As I drove, I could see up ahead something on the side of the road. At first, it was too far away for me to make it out. Then, I realized it was a man, hitchhiking, waiving me over, asking me to stop.

Curious, I pulled over. We chatted a bit after he introduced himself. I felt comfortable, so I told Alone to get in the back seat to make room for him; he and I were heading in the same direction.

Love started making noise in the trunk. I yelled back there telling him to be quiet.

As we drove, I saw that, somehow, Trust and Openness were no longer in my past. Instead, they were waiving at me from a picnic table at a rest stop. We had stopped there so we could stretch our legs. Realizing how much I missed them, I asked them to get back in the car. Since the back seat couldn't accommodate them and Alone, I told Alone this was the end of the trip for him and left him at the rest stop. Alone walked away with his head down, meandering a bit, but eventually disappearing from my sight.

The hitchhiker and I got back in the car and continued the trip. We were in the front, Trust and Openness in the back, and Love remained in the trunk.

The road got hilly and there were some tricky turns that we helped each other through. I let the man drive when I got tired. Love was now furiously kicking and punching inside the trunk. I had to let him out.

I pulled the car over and popped the trunk. The man and I both exited the car. It was late so when Love climbed out, he lit up the night with his warm yellow light. Hitchhiker and I looked at each other over the roof of the car; We were standing on our respective sides. In tandem, we walked back to Love and putting him between us, we hugged.

What happened next was kind of miraculous. When we let go of each other and parted, our chests, our hearts, were glowing with the warm yellow light of Love. 

I watched the man close the now empty trunk and we got back in the car. I put the car in Drive, and we continued the journey, the car filled with Love's soft yellow glow.

For Brian.

I Am Wondering

 

I had to parallel park last Friday when I voted early. I shocked myself when I executed it perfectly because the last time I did it was when I took my driver's test. Normally I try to squeeze into the open spot head first. Two stars for me that day, the first for my perfectly performed parallel parking job and the second for voting Democrat across the board.

I am 58 years old.

I remember when the Vietnam War finally came to a close and, while looking down my street from my bedroom window, wondered why there weren't parades celebrating it like we did when WWII ended.

I remember sitting on the rug in front of the TV watching Nixon announce his resignation. Looking to my left at my mother in the kitchen, I wondered why she wasn't watching it, too. I knew what was happening was important, even though I didn't understand all of it.

Now, I am sitting at my desk at home wondering how a mad man, an unstable TV personality, is the President of the United States. I am wondering how he is getting away with spewing vitriol the same way a male cat sprays his territory. It stinks and it is all around us.

The press, the protectors of the people and the searchers of truth, are being called the enemies of the people and yet the band plays on. Innocent minorities are being murdered by guns and others are threatened by Improvised Explosive Devises. Hateful white nationalists commit atrocious acts because of the leader of our country's hate-filled speeches.

When I was young, I complained to my mother that Billy, the boy next door, was calling me names. She taught me the rhyme, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." She said to say that to back to him every time he did it. Not the best parenting advice, but she did her best. I wondered why she thought it would work when each time I felt the sting inside of me because of his name calling.

Words matter. "The pen is mightier than the sword." They are sent out of our mouths with energy and affect the listeners. Words contain a unique power, greater than fists.

I am 58 years old and I am wondering how will this spiral of hateful, invective, and manipulative language will end. The President is filled with puss and disease and with his words he is spreading it to those that are vulnerable, weak, and without an immune system.

What is it going to take to make it stop? I wonder.

So I met this guy

I went out on a "date" last night. This is a serious question. At this point in my life, are only damaged men available? They've made wrong choices and have the injuries to show for it. Either their wounds are fresh and they want a woman friend to doctor them or their scars are thick and they only want sex.

Last night we met at the theatre and saw "A Star is Born" with Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper. The music was fantastic along with the acting. As always, Bradley was very easy on the eyes and Gaga is beautiful. But, the story line sucked. I never saw the 1976 version of the movie with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson because, frankly, I don't like either one of them. 

Back to last night and my so-called date. When the guy you are with only talks about how he is recovering from a bad marriage to a woman that has a personality disorder, in my head I am thinking, "Here we go again!" 

I listened. I gave advice. I taught him what I knew. I feel for the guy, but come on, Universe. Why are you putting yet another man in this situation in my path? I should get paid for this. He said he had a few friends tell him he should get help in the form of a therapist. I told him I agreed. He said, and I quote, "Why should I? I can talk to you." *sigh* I chuckled and replied, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but think it would help you. Plus, I'm not licensed."

As we said our goodbyes in the parking lot, I assured him that this is a friendship on my side, too. He gave me a glowing review about me as a person and human being in general. I walked the short few feet to my car, got in, started it, and said out loud to the Universe, "Seriously? You give me another one. Where is my reward? When do I get to win?" And with that short bitch session, I drove home.

My experience at Detwiler's farmers market earlier in the day probably didn't help. There was a couple that had a long debate together, blocking my view of the self-serve meat section and then, the cheese section. In grocery store time, it was forever! Was it really necessary to have a 3 minute discussion together on what pre-packaged lunch meet to buy? Then move your cart and your 2 large bodies to the cheeses and hold another meeting on what cheese was the best? Get off of my route, please. 

I finally got away from them, only to end up with another couple blocking the milk section. I swear. She was kissing his cheek telling him she was sorry and then he kissed her back speaking sweet nothings to her as they snuggled. In the grocery store. Blocking the milk. Not moving. I wanted to scream to them to stop the PDA and get out of my way. Instead I invaded their space and they moved a few inches and resumed G-rated shopping.

I don't begrudge anyone happiness. It's great! There is so little of it so please, make the best of it. Just let me grocery shop in peace and be aware of others around you. It's my world, too.

So, what am I trying to say? What's my point? I think you get it without me spelling it out.

As I turn 58

Every year around my birthday, I write about what I have learned in the previous year.

Elevator Bank at Amalie Arena

My sister, Eve, recently invited me to a Paul Simon concert at Amalie Arena in Tampa. I've learned a few things from that experience.

Apparently, I am not the only one that has problems remembering one what floor I parked. Normally, I write the floor and section in a small notebook I keep in my purse. With this creative solution that reminds patrons to remember, I only needed to take a pic! A gratitude of thank you to the people that thought outside the box. And, thank you for helping me feel better about myself.

• When Eve invited me, she told me we would be seated in the Terrace section. It made no difference to me and I accepted the invitation with happiness. What I didn't know was that the angle of the seating in this section was death defying and not a happy place for those that suffer from acrophobia. Even walking up the flight of stairs closest to our seats caused me panic. Eventually, we took a right to what we thought was our row. There were people that were already seated and they politely stood up to allow us to pass by. I was in full blown frozen mode and forced myself to walk, but not without the kindness of these strangers. They let me hold on to their arms or they took my hand as I passed in front of them. When we realized we should have taken a left instead of a right, I was filled with dread but I soldiered on! I was not going to pussy out, dammit, and we turned around. Plus, I had no choice. This same group of people stood up again to allow us to pass. Fear was pressing down on me as the people, for a second time, helped me walk by. One of them was an amazing woman. She kept up a steady stream of encouragement telling me that I was doing great! I was fine! Everything was OK! I was almost there. I knew she had to be a mother; I bet she was a good one. These people were gracious, empathetic, and without hesitation let down the societal barriers to help someone in need. I apologized profusely as I held on to them and made myself keep moving. One of them said, "At least you admit it." I replied, "I have no choice!" I don't even know what their faces look like because my eyes ping ponged between their arms and the floor. I do know what their hearts look like.
• We finally got to our seats and I realized that it didn't help me much to be seated. The backs of the seats in front of us were ankle height providing no barrier to a headfirst rolling downhill drop to my death. Adrenalin kept shooting through my body; escaping the situation was what the oldest evolutionary part of my brain, the brain stem, was telling my body to do. I made a comment to Eve that if I were sitting next to someone like a husband, I would ask him to drape his leg over my lap as maybe it would make me feel more secure. Eve offered to do so and it helped. She said it was comfortable. I don't know if she was telling me the truth or not but I put my hand on her leg and held on making sure not to cut off her blood supply from a death grip.

 

Lolly watching me talk to Poppy, who is in my arms.

I learned from Lolly that even though one has lived through an abusive past, recovery is possible. It has been 1.5 years since I adopted her. I can finally say that with regularity she accepts kisses as acts of love instead of threatening behavior, she no longer believes the broom is a tool of punishment, has no fear that I will take her food bowl from her while she is eating, can trust that I will keep to the schedule, and my touch will only provide her comfort. Whenever I look at her, my heart bursts with love. Her face could be a Disney character and it makes me smile.





As I reflect on becoming another year older, I am less patient and more patient, depending on the circumstance. I have learned that others' behavior is their problem, not mine. I don't have to take it to heart and I don't have to act on it. Being a loner by nature is not a bad thing, just different. I am not a beauty queen and that is okay. (Thank you, thyroid cancer.) Beauty is more than what size I wear and if I can talk to you, make you laugh, or help you, I am beautiful enough. Sorrows, joys, frustrations, and accomplishments are cars on a train and I watch as each one passes by. I don't stand at the station waiting for the train to stop to get on.

Please see the link below. I continue to strive, to learn. To let go.

https://www.school-for-champions.com/religion/buddhism_four_noble_truths.htm#.W50UY_ZReUk

Bed Mates

Poppy and Lolly napping

For the uninitiated, this is a pic of my 2 dogs. Poppy, in the forefront, is 6 years old next month. He is full Chihuahua and has papers. I have had him since he was a baby. By far, he is the most affectionate and smartest dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.

Lolly is the one on the far side. She looks like a Disney character, or an ice cream sandwich, or a Jersey Cow. It has been just over a year and a half since she has been in my life. Best guess on her lineage is that she is part Chihuahua part Jack Russell and she definitely does not have papers. However, she speaks both Spanish and English so she is valuable in her own right. Because of her less than stellar past, she dislikes strangers because they were the ones that took her many offspring when she wasn't yet ready. Also, keep brooms away from her. Kisses and affection are now on the positive side of the spectrum. Another gold star in her cap.

When I was very young, I was given 2 stuffed dogs. One was named Bluey (he had blue fur) and the other I named Mac. I still have Mac. This is what he looks like today:

When I look at him, it still amazes me he is here. Through all of the moves and tumult in my life, here he is! He probably could use a few more patches.

Mac and Bluey were my bedtime companions, one on each side. Because of Mac's shape, he was the one that got tucked closest to me, my arm around him, his head under my chin. I even brought them to college with me. That was when, out of embarrassment, I stopped sleeping with them. At first, it was a stressful adjustment for me. I had slept with them next to me since I was very young.

I still don't sleep with Mac. Instead I have Poppy. When we crawl into bed at night, Poppy runs up the bed to my right side and tucks his little head in my armpit, luxuriating in all of the affection I give him. He lifts his head to cover me in kisses, and then he settles down feeling loved.

Bluey is gone but I have Lolly. No matter what side Poppy ends up on, Lolly takes the other. She always has her back to me pressed up against me. I move, she moves. It is like I have a furry magnet attached to me.


I woke up in the middle of the night recently because I was hot. I felt like I couldn't move because I was tightly sandwiched between both dogs. I have a queen-sized bed but I can only spread out on it to the extent the dogs allow. I may as well be sleeping on a cot. Sometimes a very uncomfortably hot cot. I pushed them both away from me a few inches because claustrophobia was kicking in. They were surprised and unhappy about where they found themselves but I felt like an oversized hot dog in an undersized bun.

Dear Ray

I have a very old friend. It's not his age that is old, it is the length of time we have known each other. We met, or should I say I introduced myself to him, at the beginning of freshman year in college. I can still remember the first time I saw him walking on campus in his high school wrestling letter jacket. Do high schools still do that? Have letter jackets?

Ray in High School. He still looked like this Freshman year. Cute, right?

He and I have been in and out of touch throughout the years. No matter what, even though we have grown, changed, and went our separate ways, we still have a connection. We can get mad at each other, think the other one is obnoxious, wonder "WTF!" about each other, but there is still that abiding love and respect. (Right now my pal would have to add a comment like, "Maybe for you," and then laugh.)

We were young and stupid when we met. That we both agree on. I could have treated him better and he could have been more assertive. Should have, could have, would have. It doesn't matter. It was and we are.

Ray has been sick for a very long time. He used to drink. A lot and often. When I introduced myself to him, we were at a bar. Being naive and sheltered at the time, I didn't know how to recognize alcoholism. I still think Ray hid it from me, but he disagrees...I think.

Anyway, he drank himself into needing and receiving a liver transplant. He did quit drinking and hasn't partook in nearly 20 years. You have to give him a lot of credit! This is just one reason I respect him.

Since then, his kidneys were damaged and he is on kidney dialysis awaiting another organ transplant. Here is what is probably an incomplete list of what has happened since:

• 4 hernia operations
• Fluid removed from his brain
• 3 strokes
• Open heart surgery to replace a heart valve

Recently, he is back in the hospital. His back was hurting and then he couldn't breath. After living through a painful backbone biopsy where the instrument got stuck in his back during the procedure and having a tube put in his back between 2 ribs to drain infected fluid from his lungs, he finds out he has a staff infection in his bones and elsewhere. The heart valve he had put in not that long ago is infected, too, so that needs to be replaced.

He has all kinds of doctors taking care of him. He says the nurses are wonderful. Ray is now a case study and interns are learning about him.

Last night, I spoke to Ray on the phone. He told me that one of the docs isn't comfortable replacing his heart valve until they check out the possible blood clot in his brain. What?! The past week or so, Ray keeps revealing a new problem the docs have discovered. I am speechless, over and over. I wonder to myself, "How is he doing it? How does he keep going?"

Ray laughs on the phone at one of his bad jokes. I roll my eyes on the other end and I'm sure he can hear me do it. He says he keeps going because he has to. He tries not to think about it. Last week he confessed that he did think about drinking once but it was brief. It wouldn't get him anywhere.

A few days ago he told me about a ghost that resides in his hospital room. A few times it has walked by his bed and squeezed his toes. It also makes noises in the bathroom. When he said, "Hello there," to the ghost, it responded by giggling.

We both believe in past lives. Because of all the physical suffering he has gone through and continues to experience, he is convinced he was Hitler and Karma is taking its toll.

What I know to be fact is that I have never heard him moan, "Why me?" I have never heard him feel sorry for himself. Sure he has cried. I mean, come on! He tells me he keeps fighting because there is no other choice. Spoken like a true wrestler. You don't stop until you are pinned and the ref calls it.

It Has Been Awhile

It has been awhile since I last wrote you. I have thought about you; I have missed you. So, I am reaching back out to you.

Remember I talked about my neighborhood and the homeless guy that created a life in the carport of the house next door? That house is now being renovated and he had to go. I still see him walking up and down my street with his cart full of recycling so he still lives somewhere close by.

Lolly is sitting on my lap as I write this. She now comes to me for affection and doesn't growl in response to kisses on her head. She continues to heal from the wounds caused by her abusive past but has made tremendous headway.

Chihuahuas are the only dogs with the ability to make tears. Poppy has never done it but Lolly, even being part Jack Russell, does. The darker spots under her eyes is because her fur is wet from them. She will look at me with love and tear up!

I have been on a dating website for a couple of weeks now. It's been interesting! Fun, too. I give it a thumbs up. The trick is to be happy first so that anything else that comes along is icing on the cake.

Work has been fantastic, as always. No job is perfect but mine is pretty damn close to it! I can thank the people I work with for that. We are a healthy growing organization and I am proud to be a part of it.

It rained for a solid 2 weeks. We finally saw the sun again a couple of days ago. Instead of feeling depressed by it, I got anxious and wired. It is good to see the sky blue again.

For those that have read my posts about my mother, she's hanging in there! At 83 she is still in her home and driving. My younger sister and I tag team making sure one of us has either spoken to her or seen her that day. 

I've talked about everything but my health so here it goes. You know I have had thyroid cancer and then a closed head injury. I recovered from both so now there is something new. I have seen 5 health professionals about it, so far. Hopefully I am closer to an answer than before. I have one more that I am awaiting an appointment to be made and that is with an infectious disease doctor. At this point, I have had to talk about it so much that I am sick of talking about it. I'll just say that my symptoms of lower back pain and cyclical low grade fevers has been going on since last September. Aspirin is the only thing that has been taking the edge off. Some days are more difficult to function than others, but can't we all say that?

You are basically caught up now. Wait! One more thing. This year is my 40th High School reunion. I am not going to attend. It really wasn't the best time in my life so why experience it all over again? Some classmates are very excited about it but then again they still call each other by the nicknames they gave each other in High School.

Ok. Now you are caught up. Well, I do want to say one more thing. I am happy. The world is turning to shit because of our asinine president and my health is in question, but I am happy. Content. You know who I can thank for that? Jim. He taught me the principles of how to do that. I put them into practice.

Just an Ant's World

I walk Lolly and Pop every night after work. A few days ago, Poppy decided to pee on an ant hill. We have red ants in Florida and they are mean SOBs. He lifted his leg and the warm stream of urine rained. Pissed off (pun intended) ants showed up to the gun and knife fight looking for blood and revenge. Poppy had already walked away. Are you an ant...or Poppy? Maybe you are me, holding the leash while watching the show. 

It's all a Part of the Ride

Because of the thyroid cancer, I had to come to terms with changes that took place with my body including all of the things that happened prior to the diagnosis and then the results of the various treatments. Then, I had to learn to live with the repercussions from a closed head injury. To quote Vice President Dan Quayle:

"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."

That was my life for nearly 2 years as I healed. 

As I get closer to being 60 years old, I see the signs of aging. Amazingly enough, having my hair go grey is not one of them. It is a salt and pepper mix and still dark. One of the things my father gave me.

What I am noticing that is bothering me is the differences I am seeing in my skin. When I run one hand down my arm and over the top of my other hand, I see ripples. Lines form in response to the pressure and then disappear. My skin is telling me I am older.

I don't feel older in a lot of ways. I still have so much fun when my inner child still runs the show, especially at the local amusement center. I enjoy playing air hockey, Down the Clown, ICE Ball FX Alley Roller, and the video game House of the Dead 2. Having had to live with the complications of reality, I know the importance of letting loose and playing, of being a child.

 A small child only has to be, grow, and learn. Even though my body is exhibiting signs that I am nearing 60, I am still being, growing, and learning. I am still having fun and cutting loose. I have gained insight, maturity, and truth. While I am always working on my humanity, I am able to say that I love myself unconditionally. 

Abuse, neglect, and ignorance ravages the mind, body, and soul. Love heals, secures, and creates warmth. In order to grow and learn, I have experienced all of it. This aging process is miraculous until eventually, the body dies and when we are ready, we start it all over again.


Last Friday at work, a conversation I had with 2 of my coworkers worked its way to the topic of the funeral/mourning process. There is a small island, that when a loved one dies, they build a funeral pyre and watch as the fire consumes the dead body. Because of the type of accelerant used, it is fast and hot. Once complete, the ashes are gathered and most often walked to the beach and thrown to the sea. The grievers participate in the ritual and experience closure.

Jews stand and watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. Then, by hand, trowel, or shovel, they take dirt from a nearby pile and drop it onto the coffin, which is now secured in the earth. It is quiet so all hear the dirt as it lands on the wood. The mourners are helping to fill the grave. It is the end and again, this physical experience provides closure.

Both of these processes engage the mourners' senses. Grief and death are to be acknowledged and experienced. 

The changes I am seeing in my body are forcing me to do the same. I am forced to admit I am not going to live in this body forever. This life as Nancy will be over one day and I am closer to that now than I was before.

Play, love, mourn, learn. Open yourself up to possibilities that you thought were out of your reach. Widen your life. Respect yourself. Accept yourself. And as you witness your physical changes, accept them as sign posts that the ride at the fair does come to an end. So, experience the highs, lows, twists, and turns with open eyes as you tightly grip the grab bar. Smile, laugh, scream. It's all a part of the ride.

 

Lunch Postponed

She tried to avoid him but couldn't. He kept making efforts to be in her life, even for just minutes at a time. An email asking her to lunch which she would schedule and then cancel. She did this twice and then when that didn't work, she told him how busy she was.  He said he understood and would wait. It was a temporary fix because he emailed a month later saying they should get together for lunch. She sighed when she read it and not knowing how to respond, she got up from her desk and walked away from her computer. She needed to think.

She wasn't married, but he was. Her kids were grown but his were young. She was older but only guessed at the number of years. Was this really all about her being a business prospect for him or was there more? She remembered meeting him for the first time. Looking into his eyes and smiling as they shook hands. He immediately knocked Jean-Luc Picard aka Patrick Stewart out of the top spot for sexiest bald man alive. She wanted to eat him up right there and then but restrained herself from showing it.

The one thing she didn't want was to have a one-sided fantasy or fuck over another woman.

When she was back at her computer, she re-opened his emailed invitation and responded with reasons why her company wasn't interested in his company and how it wouldn't be fair to waste each other's time. His response was that these things take time and he would love to have lunch with her. They reviewed their calendars and scheduled it.

She got to work that day and thought about canceling it again but decided that that would be rude to do it for a third time. He emailed her asking to move it up fifteen minutes in case his prior meeting ran late. He didn't want her stuck waiting for him. She replied that that was fine and thanked him for being considerate. He answered back thanking her for being flexible.

It was a beautiful day so she sat on the bench outside of the restaurant to wait for him. She was always early because to be on time was to be late. Pulling her phone from her purse, she opened the Scrabble app and resumed a game she had started before. Then, the air changed. Looking up, she saw him watching her as he stood by his open car door putting on his suit jacket. His face was intense yet relaxed and he made no move to hide it. She saw his soul; she knew him and knew that he knew her, too.

He walked up to her and she silently signaled she didn't want a hug. He read her correctly and didn't try. She didn't want to have to deal with that memory. To feel it over and over in her mind.

During lunch they talked about work, his family, her family and all of the rest of the things that make up small talk. She learned a bit more about him and the same for him about her. Mid-lunch their waitress quit because the cook called her a bitch and they both watched as she took off her apron, grabbed her purse, and walked out.

She couldn't help herself from stealing glances at his mouth, which was beautiful. His lips were full and his mouth wide. He was so hot that he made the needle of her moral compass quiver. 

As she ate, she pictured herself grabbing him by his lapels and smashing her mouth against his.

There were very few men that turned her on like this. It had always been like that for her. If she thought about it, there were probably only 2 others, ever. There was more than animal magnetism with him, though. They knew each other before, many times. How else could she explain the knowing, the feeling of it being right?

Lunch the following day was leftovers. She emailed him thanking him again. He emailed back saying they could make this a regular thing.

2018 - It's a New Year again

2018 is a week away. I still have my health and a great job working at a wonderful organization. No one has passed on in my family so that subject is still intact, too. I have yet to move from the house I rent in the sometimes sketchy neighborhood replete with transplanted Hispanics, domestic violence, and drug dealings. Even so, I feel safe. I was accepted a while back as part of the sketchiness.

I am the single white female that daily walks her little dogs around the block. I will smile and wave or say "hello" or "hola" but you have to ignite the conversation. For those that live across the street from me, like Mrs. Kravitz, they have had a bird's eye view of the relationships that have started...and ended. They keep an eye on me and quickly match man with vehicle. They don't know that Jim has died or why someone will appear out of nowhere, disappear, and then reappear. One time I was told by the new man of the hour that after he parked his truck he was boldly approached by one of my neighbors. The older black man crossed the street and without hesitation stood at the new guy's driver side window to quiz him about his intentions.

My windows are open and I can hear the church bells being rung. Why at this time of the morning? Perhaps someone has died or perhaps they, too, are mourning the passing of the greatness of our country. The tax overhaul that favors the rich and big business, the FCC vote against Net Neutrality, or no longer proclaiming to those in need that we take in your tired and poor. All of these are satisfactory reasons to mourn for our country's slippery slope.

While some things are the same, others are not. If you expect change, when it happens, you won't be surprised and if it is a new trial instead of a new celebration, it might be easier to bear. I know that while my body lives, my soul is pinned to the earth. I might as well do my best. 

The 5th Dimension and Beyond

I've been trying to understand what the 5th dimension is all about. No, not the music group. I'm talking science, specifically physics. Below is the most understandable explanation I have found so far. This is a quote from Utsav Deep, a Software Engineer that lives in India.:

Let me explain it.

Everyone is familiar with the 3 dimensions: length, width and height. Time is the 4th dimension. To explain something that happened, you must answer where it happened (the location in 3D space) and when it happened (the instant of time). At every point of time we make one decision and move forward in that direction in 4D space-time.
However, we could have made some other decision or some other possible events could have happened then we would have taken another branch in time. This is the 5th dimension. In other words, 5th dimension contains all possible set of events that can happen as a result of some other particular event or decision. But note, 5th dimension must honor causality, ie, there must be a cause of an event.

He also explains the 6th Dimension:

 If you want to understand still higher dimensions you can proceed further.
In 5th dimension, there must be a cause of an event. But to make something happen without any cause, we need another degree of freedom which is in 6th dimension. To understand it, consider 2 distant points, A and B, on a sheet of paper. To reach point B from A, you can draw any line or curve joining these points and follow that path. You select 1 path (4D) out of many possible paths (5D) to reach point B from A. But till 5D you can’t reach B from A without going through any of the possible paths. But if you are allowed to fold the paper (6D) you can make points A and B coincide and you will be simultaneously at point A and B ! So in 6th dimension it is possible that both humans and dinosaurs existing at the same time.

String Theory proposes 10 dimensions. Mind blowing, right? Possible? Yes. There is so much we cannot see but that doesn't make it less real than this keyboard I am touching as I am typing. I just can't see it.

If you are still hanging with me, click on the link of the Carl Sagan video for a further explanation of why we cannot see things that, in theory, that exist. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcJI0o7aX9Q

These are the things I have been ruminating about.

Since time is relative and we cannot see it in its entirety, like Sagan's apple only one slice at a time, it limits our perspective. But, if you live in the now, you relate to time differently. It is not so much a continuum but more like a state of being. Some define this way of thinking as Mindfulness, a therapeutic technique that uses being in the present as a way to handle life and oneself. However we choose to define it, essentially it is living each moment as NOW. This changes one's perspective and opens one up to other possibilities in life.

As someone that "sees" people that have passed and I having the gift of "knowing" things, I believe that there is at least one other plain of existence.

What is reality? Let's ask, what is reality to an ant? Not the same as our reality. It depends on perspective. How many times have you experienced something and thought one way about it and years later think about it again and realize you now believe differently about it? The sequence of events haven't changed. They are still the same. Your perspective is different.

I am open to possibilities. Are you?

Malleable

I have worked so hard and traveled so far. Sometimes I am so weary from making the effort. Taken for granted, pushed aside for the fake beauty of broken glass that sparks in the sunshine. I have been asked to forgive, to forget. I have been asked to swallow my pride and my feelings, choking on them as they went down. Then, throwing them back up because they refused to be ignored.

I've gotten caked with dirt while learning to love myself as I wrestled with the past, a formidable opponent.

I've made my way over, under, or through the obstacles in my path. Bad relationships, family sadness, cancer, less than stellar work environments, car accidents, and financial woes. I have also basked in the sunshine when the days are warm and bright.

I have found love, and lost it.

When you are down, please keep moving. Even if all you are capable of is grasping for a handhold, then do it. If all you can do is breath, then find peace that you are still alive. The sun rises and day transforms to night. It is how it works here. Do what you can, accept yourself. It is okay to feel fragile because you are also strong.

The trick in all of this is to know the wind comes. Bend, move with it. You will continue if you are malleable.

mal·le·a·ble

ˈmalyəb(ə)l/

adjective

adjective: malleable

(of a metal or other material) able to be hammered or pressed permanently out of shape without breaking or cracking.

 

Sometimes it hurts to be the metal in the forger's fire but, in the end, you become even more beautiful. 

He Smelled

"He smelled," she said with a smile and a wink
As she stuffed it
down the sink.

"It couldn't last," she said with a flick so fast
of the switch
feeling miscast.

"My, what a noise,"she said with great poise
covering her ears
and mouthing "boys".

"If only they bathed," eyes twinkling as she raved
holding her nose
trying to be brave.

As I turn 57

It's hard for me to believe that I am so close to being 60. Three more years (throws a pinch of salt over my left shoulder). Every year around my birthday I write about changes in my life - and the things that have remained the same.

Here is what is the same:

1. I continue to get excellent reports regarding the thyroid cancer that was originally diagnosed in 2005. It remains undetectable. 
2. I've got a fantastic job at a fantastic organization. What we do at CAN saves people's lives. 
3. I still live in the same house in the same neighborhood. It still scares for my visitors to get out of their car and walk to my door.
4. I remain single.

Here is what has changed:

1. I adopted Lolly January 3rd. To know her is to love her. The Jack Russell part of her makes her a spring-loaded lunatic sometimes but that is part of her *cough* charm. Her emotional scars from the life she had continue to heal. Trusting is still a challenge for her but for now she only growls at me every so often when I kiss her. 
2. I earned a promotion at work. Always a good thing.
3. I've let my hair grow. It's past my shoulders and I like it. I also like putting it in pigtails and braids. No, I am not too old for that.
4. While I continue to live with a few changes that are products of the closed head injury I suffered a few years ago, I am comfortable with who I am. My short term memory is back and my mind doesn't feel dull anymore. 

I want to delve further into item #4 in the what is the same category. I am still single. It is my wish to be part of a pair but I want to talk to you about a topic related to it.

I have had 4 serious relationships. All of them except for 1, (He might be living on the streets or dead, for all I know. His drinking ruined his life so I don't count him.), circled back to me to say the same thing in one form or another:

1. He was responsible for 95% of the problems we had.
2. He was an idiot. Didn't know what he had. Would treat me differently now. Please take him back. I was the best thing that happened in his life.
3. He wasn't ready. It was premature of him to start a relationship. He's back now and wants me to start anew with him. I was the best thing since sliced bread.

It is uncanny! For the sake of argument, this is 3 out of 3. Inside of these relationships, each man was forced to look at themselves and then make life altering decisions. Move forward with me and learn life's lessons or lose me and remain stuck in the muck. I ended the relationships and it was later that they woke up, but at the time, I was the one hurting.

I am not a serial dater. I couldn't be if I wanted to! There aren't that many available single men living in the area that are in my age group. So, I am single.

When I really think about this, there is a work experience that relates to this subject. I helped get a business off the ground. As a matter of fact, I was the first employee hired. Four years later, the owner, contemplating a hiring decision, came to me to ask my opinion. I told him not to do it and why. He disagreed and moved forward. He thought she would bring in a lot of money and grow the company. I ended up being pushed out and she took over. Eventually, she ended up leaving him and his business high and dry while he was on vacation with his family and took with her over half of the company's clients. He never had her sign a contract. That part of the company ended up closing.

After that all went down, I saw his wife at a continuing education seminar and we talked. She said he was so sorry for what happened, he should have listened to me, and would I call him? I told her I was not going to call him. If he wanted to talk to me, that is fine but he would have to call me. She begged me to call him. I didn't. Neither did he.

As I run head on into 57, I finally have the great job at the great company. I'm ready for the relationship.

Bear (mato) Trap

 I heard you crying. Yes, I can hear you. It nearly knocked me over at Walmart Friday.

I also know what happened. I saw you today. Your were standing, facing ahead. You had walked into a trap but escaped. You were trying to walk with a damaged right leg. Foot? Either way, you escaped from the trap but are now damaged. You are dragging your right leg but you did free yourself and are looking forward. You might walk with a limp the rest of your life. You might. It isn't written in stone.

Please don't walk into the trap again. It just damages you and the more damaged you are the longer it takes to heal. You do want to heal, right?

A Christmas Present

A Christmas present
A small box tied with a bow
Mixed up in the remnants of torn wrapping paper
Kicked behind the tree
Forgotten

Amidst the excitement
Of opening the larger gifts
The pretty little box with the glossy red paper
Sees no light
In the shade of the tree

Her red bow
Still tied tightly
No hands reach for her
To open her up
She waits, sad, thinking she is forgotten

Breakfast is eaten
En masse the commotion huddles around the TV
To watch the game
A unified raucous
While the package is on no one's mind

Except, it is not that the small
Box with the neatly tied red bow
Is forgotten
Her time was not yet
Until now

She doesn't move as the discards of the morning
Are gathered, torn paper crinkling
An obnoxious noise
The hand that works gets closer
And one finger hooks on her bow

A tug, a slide across the floor
In hands that hesitate before moving
Finally freed of her bow and the glossy red paper
Her lid removed, her box finally opened
Relief

The Greatest Challenge Part 2

https://www.spirit-animals.com/owl/

"Alternatively the Owl symbolism is often thought to come to those who need to let go of some part of their life that is no longer needed. With this in mind, you must listen carefully to your inner voice and allow yourself to be guided to recapture the knowledge of your true path in life. Owl’s senses can pierce through shadows, beyond fear and darkness, through to the other side that promises light, happiness and knowledge."

http://www.audubon.org/news/learn-identify-five-owls-their-calls

He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until the sound of an owl woke him up. Bluebird stayed on his shoulder as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You are here."

He sighed. Shaking his head he said to himself, "I've heard that before."

The owl twisted its head and blinked. "Yes."

"So, what words of wisdom do you have for me?" He held out his hand to stop the owl from replying. His voice rose as he continued, "Before you start, you need to know I am clueless! Putting his hand down, he said, "Lay it on me, owl." He gestured towards the owl to let him know he now had the floor.

"I am here to be your guide."

"Okaaaay."

Owl blinked. "I am here...to be your guide."

"Ooookaaaaay," replied the man. "To guide me out of here?"

"You will find the way out."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not picking up what you're putting down, Owl."

Owl resituated himself on the branch. He craned his neck, blinked, and spoke again. "How long you exist here is up to you. I am your guide but I can only do so when you are ready to ask questions. For too long you have walked without reflection. It is not enough to only put one foot in front of the other."

Owl opened his right wing. The man was awed by the bird's wingspan. "Can you see your past," Owl asked.

Like a movie, he watched flickering images of people from all of the paths he had walked. It was a timeline of his life. He saw familiar faces and places, heartache, pain, and joy. Most of what he saw was sadness and yearning.

"Yes, I see it. I see all of it."

Owl folded his wing back into place. "What did you see?"

The man sighed again. Holding his head in his hands he mumbled.

"Please speak so that you can be heard," Owl requested.

Lifting his head up, the man spoke succinctly, "I saw everything. I saw my childhood and my life as a man."

"Good. What else did you see?"

The man looked around at his plight as he thought about the answer to Owl's question. "Everything that has happened, everything that I have done has led me here, hasn't it Owl?"

"Yes. What else did you see?"

Tears formed in the man's eyes and he cleared his throat. Owl waited. Finally, the man shook his head and barely above a whisper said, "I can't." He looked at Owls big eyes. "I can't."

Owl, understanding, replied, "You are here." Lifting himself from the branch, making himself ready for flight, he ended the conversation with, "Call me and I will return to you."

The man watched Owl fly away from him into the darkness, just as he had watched Turtle leave. Very quickly, the realization that he was alone again sunk in. He grabbed his walking stick to help him stand up. Full of frustration, fear, anger, and pain, he yelled as loudly as he could with as much force as he could, "Fuuuuuuck!" Bluebird shot herself way above him, the force of the man's emotion setting her to flight. The back of leather pouch that hung from his neck, the part that touched his skin, turned red and hot. 

The man was drained, his energy quickly burnt up. Falling to his knees he moaned, sobbed, and howled. What Owl had shown him was too painful to bear. His heart crumpled under the pressure. He brain felt like it was on fire. He was in pieces, broken. "No, no, no, no, no." It was the only word he could speak.

The Greatest Challenge Part 1

Please click here

He walked miles. Sometimes he took a right. Sometimes a left. He even tried going straight but you can't do that when there is a fork in the road. Throughout his journey, he dug ditches and climbed out of them. He also swung from the tip of the moon and crawled at the bottom of the sea where it was too deep for light to penetrate.

He held his breath when he ran through the poisonous haze that made seeing ahead a blur and tip-toed gingerly among the buttercups so as not to crush them beneath his feet. And he walked.

He came to rely on the Bluebird that either perched on his shoulder or accompanied him in the air, the strong and sturdy walking stick that he always kept at his side, and the leather pouch that hung from his neck. Even when he was tired from walking, he was always aided and never alone.

One day he met his greatest challenge. Ahead of him was the biggest chasm he had ever seen. He wanted to turn around and go back, but when he looked for the road behind him, it was just overgrown vegetation.  His only option was to walk forward. He bristled and screamed and raised his fists in the air, one hand still holding the walking stick. "Why?!" Sweat burst from his pores making the leather pouch chafe against his chest and the bluebird took to the air. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to do THIS!"

He hung his head and just stood there. Looking up, he whispered to the bluebird, "I don't want to do this."  She cocked her head and answered him. He looked at her. She puffed up her feathers and sung her answer again. Sighing, he stepped forward and immediately lost his footing on the loose dirt and rocks. He rolled down the side of the chasm, his back hitting a large rock, his legs trying to make gravity stop its pull, and his hands looking for anything he could grab onto.

With a thump, he landed on his butt. He tried to catch his breath but he had had the air knocked out of him so he panicked. He pounded the earth with his fists, his eyes wide with fear. It got quiet and he passed out.

He jolted awake when his walking stick slammed into his ribs, having made the downhill journey at a much slower pace than he. Damaged but alive, he sat up. Bluebird had been waiting for him to open his eyes and when he did she sang her greeting. He waved at her and then felt for the pouch, making sure it had survived the fall, which it had.

He took stock of himself and his surroundings. The sky looked much further away and this was the deepest in the ground he had ever been. It was a scary place. Too dark. Too damp. And too many spiders! He hated spiders. Creepy. "What the hell am I supposed to do now," he asked himself. His back hurt from hitting the rock and the palms of his hands were scraped up.

Bluebird didn't answer his question. Instead, she perched on his shoulder. Movement ahead caught his eye and he squinted, trying to make the form come into focus. It moved slowly, each step a process. Finally, he realized it was a very large turtle. It craned its neck and regarded him. "You are here."

The man hesitated in answering. "Should I know you?" He studied the turtles eyes and beak. Its carapace was a work of art.

"No. It is a form of welcome."

The man nodded. Curious, he asked, "Do you get many visitors?"

"Enough. But they are unimportant. You are here."

Looking around he replied, "I sure am." The turtle was quiet and an uncomfortable silence blanketed the place. "So...why am I here?"

"It's your path."

"My path, huh? I didn't want to come here. I had no choice. I was forced into coming here. I am hurt, damaged, and angry about being here. This was not my choice. There was no other direction available to me." He stood up, his staff in his right hand. Bluebird flew from his shoulder to a leafless tree branch to watch from a safe distance.

"But it was your choice. No one makes your path but you."

A spark of anger flashed inside the man at the turtle's logic. "Being here...Was. Not. My. Choice. Why would I want this experience? It's dark, gloomy, far from the sky. There are creepy crawly things skittering about. I'm hurt." He put one hand on his back and massaged it. "I can't imagine learning anything good from this place."

The turtle slowly and steadily stepped closer to the man. He could now see the details of the turtle's neck skin and nostrils. The shell was even more amazing. The design so intricate.

Looking the man square in the eyes, the turtle said, "You will find your way out of here only when you have learned your truths. It is up to you. It is all up to you. This was your choice."

With that, the turtle made his slow march back into the shadows. The man watched in silence until he no longer could see it. Defeated and not knowing what else to do, he presented his pointer finger to Bluebird. She flew over and perched on it and let the man absentmindedly pet her beautiful blue feathers.

https://whatismyspiritanimal.com/spirit-totem-power-animal-meanings/amphibians-reptiles/turtle-symbolism-meaning/

It Was Worth the Effort

Pain filled the rooms of my mind

Like a tidal wave of sin.

I couldn't make it stop.

The water crushed my soul

With a thousand pounds of pressure.

But I couldn't make it stop.

I crashed from the forces

Of evil as they marched in.

Please, I can't make it stop.

My lungs burned from the pain

My heart beat out of rhythm.

Will this ever stop?

As I lie on the floor, unable to move

From the pressure of the blows

I was.

Quiet waited with me

and after the storm had passed

I was still.

The wreckage surrounded me

And all was in pieces but

I was still me.

On my hands and knees

Soaked to the bone but alive

I was still me but

Forcing myself to rise

I let the new sun dry my clothes

I was still me but now

The strong warm breezes

cleared the water from my soul

I was still me but now wiser.

I picked up the pieces, determined to reassemble them only to find, in the end, a more beautiful picture than what was before. It was not easy looking at each piece and deciding where it should go. It was hard, in fact. But the picture, the new beautiful picture, was worth the effort.

Hard Stick Candy

The moon, perched in the sky on a cloud said, "I will protect you. My brightness makes the night like day." The stars, twinkling in the dark blanket of night said, "We will guide you just like we have guided the sailors and all of the others that use us to find their way."

She kicked at a stone with her sneaker and looked down the dirt road. Her black hair, plastered to her forehead and clinging to the back of her neck, was sticky with sweat. She was getting mad at how uncomfortable she was. "Damned heat," she mumbled to herself. Her mamma had sent her out for a pack of cigarettes. Being 13 and the oldest of 5, she got stuck doing this kind of crap. It was the middle of summer and there was no escaping the sun's torture.

As she neared the general store, she felt self conscious because she knew her shirt was wet in places she didn't want it to be. It's not like anyone would tease her but Buddy, an older classmate, worked there during the breaks from school and she didn't want him to see her like this.

The moon and stars, unseen during the day, watched the girl. They always did.

She pulled open the front door and walked in. The air conditioning felt wonderful, even with all of the goosebumps it produced. She pulled her shirt away from her skin. The feeling was gross and only produced more goosebumps in places she didn't want.

"Good afternoon, Susie. Now why did your mamma send you here on an errand when it's so darned hot?"

Frank owned the store. If you needed something in the middle of the night like medicine to take down a fever, all you had to do was knock on his door and he would greet you with you a smile and concern.

"She needs cigarettes," Susie replied as she looked around the store trying to scope out Buddy's location.

Frank reached over and grabbed a pack of Chesterfields. "He's in the back."

In horror, Susie looked wide-eyed at Frank. "What?"

"Buddy's in the back. Did you need him for something?"

Now Susie couldn't look Frank in the eye so she stared at the wooden floor. In response to his question all she could manage was a bunch of incoherent mumbling.

Frank, not born yesterday and certainly not a mean man, opened the glass lid to the jar that held a drool inducing variety of hard candy sticks. "I think you deserve a treat for running an errand in this heat. Pick one. No charge."

Susie's mouth watered with anticipation. How would she decide the best flavor when they were all so delicious? She concentrated so hard on picking the right one that she smelled him before she realized he was standing next to her, smiling. Susie could never figure out why he smelled so good all of the time. It sure wasn't cologne.

"Well, Miss Susie. Tough decision?"

Straightening her back to make herself taller, she replied gruffly, "None of your business, Buddy." Unable to think or see clearly, she grabbed whatever stick was closest to her fingers, thanked Frank, and walked quickly to the door. Holding up the pack of Chesterfields, Frank said, "Don't forget your mamma's cigarettes."

Susie turned around and both men were smiling. Running back, she grabbed the pack, thanked Frank again, and made it out the door.

The stars twinkled brightly and the moon smiled.

Susie felt pain in her chest as she tried to find her legs. She held the now sweat covered pack of cigarettes in one hand and the stick of candy in the other. Even with both hands full, she covered her eyes. Buddy was 3 years older and he spoke to her. Gaining back her composure, she felt excited as she looked up at the sky and smiled so big!

Why am I here?

"Why am I here," he asked Spirit once again. The smell of moss, moist earth, and woods filled his nostrils. All he wore was his leather pants and moccasins. His skin was a deep dark sinewy red. The tears rolled down his cheeks. He was a proud man and this embarrassed him but he was too weak to stop them.

"My pain is great," he whispered to himself. Unclenching his fists, he wiped his face with his hands.From his left came the sounds of twigs snapping. A huge buck was making its way towards the Indian, its large soft brown eyes targeting the man.

He stood still and waited. The animal raised and lowered its head as it approached demonstrating its power and fearlessness. It walked a complete circle around him stopping in front of the man so closely that with each breath the buck breathed out, the man felt the moisture from the deer's nostrils spray his face.

Without a voice, the beast spoke to him."Touch my coat," the deer commanded.

The Indian reached out his hand and ran it down the side of the buck's neck. He felt the softness.

"Touch my antlers."

Again the man did what was asked of him. He felt the hard bone as the velvet covering was now gone.

"I am soft, yet I am equipped to defend myself. You are, too. Touch your head."

The Indian reached up with both hands. The shock of feeling antlers jerked his body.

"You are here to learn that a man is not one or the other. His heart is soft and his mind and body are strong and to be both at the same time is balance."

The Indian nodded and the dear touched his muzzle to the man's chest. A light burst forth and then the deer was gone.

Blood Moon

The full moon dripped blood onto my plate. It was a red gravy dinner.

Feeling the hot liquid on my chin, I recalled the sounds and the smells. The smell of the wet fur and the sound of the brush snapping under my weight as I rushed to create a crime scene. The memories birthed another howl that began in my chest and with the force of a thousand winds from my lungs broke forth through my wide open jaws.

I needed this. I accepted it. I even wanted it. I would miss it if I had to let go of it.

The feeling of being alive lit up the night, a display of sparks crackled and spit. My aura of pain and power. 

To feed, to touch my prey with greed, to taste them with lust, that is what I was when the full moon dripped blood onto my plate. 

Nightmarish Instructions

I never remember my dreams except when there is a message or meaning. Two nights ago I had a nightmare. I woke up from it remembering all of it. Last night I had a similar nightmare, similar warning, almost the same message. I also remembered all of it and still do.

Here's the first nightmare. I was at a social event with a significant number of other people, maybe around 100 or so. It was being held indoors in a large room in a building. We were all milling about when all of a sudden at the opposite end of the room a terrorist entered. A couple of people and I quickly got to an exit a few steps away and escaped. Since it has been over 24 hours since I dreamt it, the only details I specifically remember are the end of it. There was another woman, blond, and a few men who made it out with me. We didn't know what to do so we found hiding places. Mine was in a ditch and I covered myself with nearby debris. I heard voices and realized that they were terrorists searching for people that escaped. One found me quickly, laughed about my hiding place, and then I woke up before any harm to me could be done.

The next night, last night, I had a similar dream. Again, I was at an event in a large room in a building. Everyone was dressed up and very relaxed as they socialized. They held drinks and napkins with canapes and hors d'oeuvres. All at once a terrorist enters the room at the front. Again, I was in the back and ran out the exit with a few others. This time we decided to go to the garage, get in our cars, and leave lickety-split! We made it to the garage and were just about to get in the car when a terrorist stepped away from hiding place behind a big cement pillar. He was holding a large sub machine gun and while laughing said, "We figured you would try to get away like this." Same as the other dream, I woke up before any harm could be done to me.

I laid in bed this morning pondering the 2 dreams. After awhile, I decided the moral of the story is to run. Get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. Unless, I have the 3rd installment tonight where running doesn't work, either.

Let's Be Real

I hated trying to climb the rope in gym class. I don't know if it is a requirement anymore. For the uninitiated, it was one long rope that hung from the ceiling and you were supposed to climb it to the top.

 I couldn't do it and it became the most humiliating gym class activity I had to endure.

When it came to swimming and horseback riding, I was coordinated. And Chinese jump rope. I was good at that.

I never mastered the ropes. As I got older, I learned to dread the hurdles. Being short didn't help me win the battle with those, either. Running AND jumping over something that is waist high? Fahgettaboutit. That is when I would silently beg the gym teacher to just give up on me. This was my fear each time.

I don't have to tell you how this ends up.

Recently I played a card game in a meeting at work. The deck contained what are considered positive attributes. You had to decide if the card you picked was part of who you are. If not, explain why not and then give it to someone else in your group that you think it better describes. One of the cards I picked had "Optimist" written on it. I braced myself for the responses I was going to get when I tried to explain why that card didn't fit me.

"This card doesn't describe me because I am not an optimist." There were a few frowns, a few intakes of breath, and a few concerned looks. I plowed on. "I am a realist." Now I heard a couple of "Ohhhs" and saw a few nods, and still a few concerned looks.

"What this means is if there is a situation, (I pointed at the table) I look at the facts and work through it (I drew an invisible straight line and stopped.) Of course I am hoping for the best outcome, but if I am ignoring the things that happen along the way, (I pointed along the invisible straight line) I may never get to the end successfully."

What I was trying to say was that stating that everything is fantastic and going to work out won't make it so. I know that flies in the face of what we've been taught by authors, lecturers, and preachers but I don't care. They aren't magic.

Please see below an excerpt from a Scientific American article written by Michael Shermer entitled "Kool-Aid Psychology: Realism versus Optimism":

Isn’t positive thinking better than negative thinking? All other things being equal, sure, but the alternative to being either an optimist or a pessimist is to be a realist. “Human intellectual progress, such as it has been, results from our long struggle to see things ‘as they are,’ or in the most universally comprehensible way, and not as projections of our own emotions,” Ehrenreich concludes. “What we call the Enlightenment and hold on to only tenuously, by our fingernails, is the slow-dawning understanding that the world is unfolding according to its own inner algorithms of cause and effect, probability and chance, without any regard for human feelings.”

I don't walk around like Eeyore expecting the worst to happen. I do my best and hope for the brightest outcome possible.

No amount of wishing or speaking positively was going to get me up the ropes or over the hurdles. The definition of realism is the attitude or practice of accepting a situation as it is and being prepared to deal with it accordingly. 

A few weeks ago someone said I was a survivor. My path hasn't been an easy one but I never gave up or stopped trying. Knowing one's strengths, limitations, and the fact that the world will do as it pleases is not being negative. Looking down the road and determining the what ifs is being prepared. I can hope and I can wish but I must look reality in the eye and deal with it.