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.

Lolly, the Courageous!

Everyone that follows me knows Poppy, the dog on the left. I've had him since he was a puppy. On the right is Lolly who I adopted from a rescue organization on January 3rd of this year. When I took this pic this morning, I was talking silliness to the dogs trying to get a good pose. I don't think I need to point out the differences in body language between the two. Hopefully, after Lolly has been with me for one year, she will look just as bright and happy as Pop.

After 3 1/2 months, I have learned what Lolly's life must have been like just by how she reacts to what goes on around her.

First, let's discuss her physically. She has stretch marks on her belly and the skin hangs. This is because she was bred over and over again.

You can't really tell from this pic, but even though she looks like a Chihuahua, her markings are Jack Russell and boy does she act like one! She can jump vertically at least 3 feet in the air from a stationary position no problem. I have seen her do a 360 degree twist in the air. She plays with toys by tossing them around and growling them. When it is just her and I on a walk, she keeps the pace quick. She barks at loud vehicles, like trucks and motorcycles, that pass by with a ferocity that means business. She's a little machine and I love that about her.

Senator, my 20 lb Tuxedo cat, was used to ruling the roost. Imagine his surprise when he met Lolly and she was having none of it! She is fearless when it comes to Senator so it's her way or the highway. They've come to an agreement of sorts and I only have to reign her in a few times a day now.

Lolly is very particular when it comes to men. She sizes them up quickly, like she can see into their hearts, and if you don't pass, she lets you know it. I did see something amazing, though, during one of our walks. We were stopped because one or the other smelled something interesting in the grass. I looked over and saw a man walking our way. He was dressed in white with paint spatters all over. There was something about him. I immediately recognized that he was gentle and kind.

As I said, Lolly doesn't trust men but as he came closer both of the dog's heads popped up and noticed him. I knew Poppy would be friendly; I was waiting to see what Lolly did. She started wagging her tail! Both dogs waited for him to get closer in the hopes he would stop and pet them, which he did. He spoke mostly Spanish so our communication was more in smiles while he crouched down and gave each dog loving. That is the only time, so far, that I have seen Lolly immediately give her trust away to a man.

I think she views life as eat or be eaten. Take no prisoners. Lolly likes to quote part of a speech Blake made to the sales team in the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, "Put. That coffee. Down. Coffee's for closers only. You think I'm fucking with you? I am not fucking with you."

But, if you look at the pic above, you see a dog that is still expecting the worst. When I call her to go out, I have to go looking for her because instead of running to me with exuberance, like Pop does,  she is lying on her back, belly up, in a submissive position. When I pick her up it is like lifting a wet noodle. She doesn't perk back up until we are out of the house.

The broom is her arch enemy, even more than Senator. I was horrified the first time I went to sweep the floor. She took one look at it and became extremely aggressive. I thought to myself, "So, someone teased and attacked you with a broom - repeatedly." 

Since I've been sick, I've had both dogs on the bed with me while I've napped. One afternoon I reached over to scratch Lolly's sides while making a "ch-ch-ch" noise. She whipped her head around growling and showing her teeth. Poppy sees these things I do as they are meant - being playful. Not Lolly. This was torture.

When I first got her and would pick her up, she would grab onto me and try to get up on my shoulder. Through repetition, she has learned that my arms are a safe place and she can relax. When I put her on the bed, she would scramble out of my arms out of fear. Now she waits to be gently placed on the bed. She used to growl when I kissed her head. Now she accepts the affection. Lolly is learning confidence in love, safety in love, and that fear and self-preservation are not necessary.


I thought she had come a long way in a short period of time until this morning's picture taking session. While she has made some strides, my desire for her to be happy has caused me to have unrealistic goals. It doesn't matter, though. She is here to stay and with time will blossom into the dog she was always supposed to be.

He was alive

She heard a questioning "Hello" from below. Getting up and nearly knocking her chair over, she couldn't make her way to the 2nd floor banister fast enough. Looking below, her heart pounded in her chest and her mouth went dry. He was in the foyer, hat in hand, looking a bit bewildered. Her body reacted on its own; her legs taking her to the stairs. With unsuppressed emotion, she quickly started her descent. Her dress was inhibiting her from going as fast as she could and the frustration of it all wrinkled her brow and made her grimace. Pants should be for women, too. It was alright for her to play in the mud in her older brother's pants as a kid. It should be okay for her to wear pants now, too.

He heard the long forgotten but familiar sound of women's garments swishing around her legs. Her only speed was fast and he knew she was cursing her clothes. A flurry of pastel appeared at the landing and stopped. Time froze as he watched her dress go still but her chest still heave with each breath she took. She was a beautiful butterfly looking for somewhere to light.

She was frozen. It had been 3 years since she last saw his face. His cavalry uniform only compounding the adrenal rush, she reached for the banister needing it to keep her steady. She watched him call her name, but couldn't hear his voice. Again, his lips moved. "Emily." He had told her so many times she was the strongest woman he had ever known but right now she was weak. Her legs trembled as if their one job to keep her standing was too much. He was no apparition. He was alive and here.

Horrified, he saw her sink to the floor. His hat, released from his grip, dropped to the floor. He raced up the stairs to the landing where she was sitting, her dress like cake frosting crumpled up around her. Putting one arm around her, he reached into his jacket and raising the beer can said, "This Bud's for you."

Just kidding!

Kneeling on the floor, he gathered her to him. Her face was wet with tears making her lips taste salty.
"Emily." This time she could hear his voice.

Jim - Still Here

It has been 4 1/2 months since Jim passed. I think about him. When I do, sometimes it is reviewing the bad times and I realize I am still angry about those. Sometimes I think about the Twin Flames connection we had. Still have. There are some memories where the two connect.

In this memory I was mad at Jim for some reason. It could have been because of any combination of his drug use, drinking, or lying. We both acknowledged that in our pasts we were together in some form or another so in my present anger I told him that I have cut the cord. I was done. I wouldn't have him be a part of my future lives. Flabbergasted, he replied, "You can't do that!"

I said, "Yes, I can! I am done being there for you and then helplessly stand by as you continually make the wrong decisions. I'm not doing it anymore. It is so frustrating and it hurts me."

When I see a man that resembles Jim, I do a double take. The pain in the pit of my stomach tells me I still feel the loss of not having him in my life, even as spotty as it was prior to his death.

The connection we had, we still have. He visits me from time to time sometimes so intensely I am filled to the brim with the comfort and love he can now share. I think it's funny that he likes to visit when I am with my mother, like he did today.

My Sunday visit with Mom was routine - lunch and Goodwill shopping. On my way to taking her home, I turned into her subdivision. That is when Jim popped up in the backseat. I asked him, "What are you doing here?" His answer? "I'm just here for the ride." Typical Jim. I started laughing and shared it with my mother. She said, "Isn't that clever," and laughed, too.

Your loved ones are never far from you. Even if you can't hear them or see them, feel them or touch them, they are there. If you talk to them, they listen. Their love is still yours. They know how deeply you feel their loss and that, for some of you, you are walking through this life with a chunk of yourself missing.

They want you to be happy so do what you can to be happy.

Cops without Badges

https://twitter.com/carlbernstein/status/832863337603952644?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw

 (If the above link isn't clickable, please copy and past it into your browser.)

I was 16 years old when the movie, "All The President's Men" was released in theatres. My adolescent brain battled between drooling over Robert Redford and following the story line. Even so, I got the gist of moral lessons.

Lessons from Doing Wrong

• Presidents are not infallible.
• Presidents are just like me in that they have issues and an Achilles' heel.
• Lying, paranoia, and all around doing the wrong thing will eventually catch up with a person.

 Lessons from Doing Right

• Believe in yourself even when others don't believe in you.
• Persist in your mission through the tough times.
• Eventually the truth will win

There is one more lesson I learned. The movie drove home how important the role of the press is. They are the cops without the badge. The reporters that seek the truth and possess a moral obligation to their countrymen, they are the ones that make sure that power is kept in check.

It is believed Napoleon said, "Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than 1,000 bayonets."

That fact that Trump is aggressively pursuing the press like a hyena hunts down an antelope is extremely disturbing. The press is not the enemy of the people. They are our powerful ally in times of trouble. They take down the giant with their weapons of words and truth. That's why Trump is so afraid of them and disparaging them. 

Trump is the man behind the curtain and the press is Toto, scrappy and unafraid to disclose the truth. 

Strength's Misconception

Batman stands at the top of my cubicle at work. When I become overwhelmed and don't know what to do next, I look at him and think, "It's simple. You can overcome whatever is happening. You are strong." I become calm and with a clearer head I go back to work.

He watches over me and is always there. Batman is my reminder that I can do what I must and even more. It doesn't bother me that you may think I am strange to have Batman as my focal point for times of stress because number 1, I don't care, and number 2, it works for me. His strength becomes my strength.

Lolly, my little rescue, looks for strength from Poppy. When I leave for work in the morning she gets very sad so she sits as closely to him as possible while she watches me walk out the door. Lolly has finally stopped chasing the cats and they have stopped hissing at her. She still has emotional wounds that have to heal but she is making headway. Bad memories are being replaced with happy ones.

We are but a wisp of smoke in time. Our bodies keep us pinned to the earth. Our souls look out from inside. We are not made to be totally alone. It goes against the rules of life. We need to understand others and be understood. We need strength so that we stay alive, loving and growing.

It is okay to need someone. It is okay to be needed. A bridge is crossed one footstep at a time but not necessarily alone.

Aging

My confirmation, Temple Emanuel

I think this picture was taken around 1975. My mother is the woman on the far right. Her mother, my grandmother, is the woman standing in the pantsuit in the center. Her husband, one of my grandfathers, is beside her.  It's funny that my dad kept his sunglasses on for the photo. The man on the far left is his father, the other of my grandfathers.My siblings are also in the picture along with one of my aunts who is my father's sister.

It brings sorrow to me that all have passed on except for my siblings and my mother. It is sorrow for love gone by. The deaths in my family of which I was a part were not long and drawn out. My beloved Nana Anna passed very quickly. I lied about my age in order to see her in intensive care. My Poppa Jack also passed away in the hospital. I got to see him one time, too. My father never woke up from what turned out to be his final heart surgery.

My mother is turning 82 on Tuesday and it is getting harder to be around her. Whenever she spoke of the final years before her mother passed, she would reminisce about how mean she was to her. My older sister witnessed it but at that time I lived halfway across the country and had my own issues.

I am looking at the picture and realize I am flanked by my grandfathers. I remember Poppa Jack making sure he was next to me. It was a protective act.

I am losing my mother as her brain changes with age. She was never the milk and cookies type of mom and our relationship was rocky but these past few years she tried. We had fun together and would laugh. Being with her now is a lesson in patience and reminding myself that her hurting me is a symptom of what is going on with her physically. Apparently this is heredity. My older sister, not joking, reminded me the other day on the phone that we have a pact that if one of us gets mean when we are old to say something.

With each new visit, I hope that the time spent with her is without me getting my feelings hurt. This probably sounds selfish of me especially when I know she is oblivious to the effect her actions and words have on me.

I have started to mourn my mother. She is leaving me very slowly. Little pieces of her are breaking off and crumbling never to return. After each visit it is taking longer for me to recover my balance because she is getting worse.

I was going to write about Lolly today, our (Poppy and me) new girl. She's a 5 year old Chihuahua that was rescued from euthanasia. I'll have to talk about her soon. Until then, here's a pic.

The Year of Transition

To celebrate the end of 2016 and the beginning of 2017, Carolyn, my Reiki teacher and compadre in all things spiritual, went out to dinner at a delicious Italian restaurant called Dolce Italia. It was Carolyn's suggestion and an excellent one at that. The food was so good!

I have always been attracted to people that are different. I don't know why. Sometimes it as not been the healthiest thing for me. In Carolyn's case, it has been very healthy for me. We both see dead people so it's all good.

One of the topics of conversation was 2016 and politics aside, all of the different things that took place. It has definitely been a year of transitions. Each December, I think about receiving my W-2 and submitting my taxes. This year I will have FOUR w-2s. That blew my mind.

Starting at the top of the year, I spent the first few months at the job I had worked at for four years. Every day was a new torture to endure and I have never been so glad to leave a place.

The second W-2 comes from a window installation business that one week into my employment the woman that hired me was fired. Her replacement wasn't a fan of mine and after three to four months I was told I should be in a supervisory role, not this one. Please move on. Here's a small severance package. Good luck.

The third W-2 will be from the temp-to-perm agency that hired me for the job I am at now. To fulfill the contracted obligation, I had to work a certain number of hours before I could be officially hired so I got paid by the agency from 7/5/16 through 10/31/16. It was a weird situation to be in. I was a part of the organization but not really.

The fourth W-2 will be from the organization that waited out the contract with me and officially hired me on 11/01/16. I love where I work. The people are fun, amazing, and wonderful human beings. It takes a certain personality to be comfortable working in and around the kind of patients we have. Our mission statement:

The mission of the Community AIDS Network is to provide a continuum of medical, social and education services essential to the health and well-being of those living with HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis C, sexually transmitted diseases, other diseases and to enhance public awareness.

This transition took three moves on the game board, but they were worth it to get to where I am now.

Two personal relationships ended. One was my choice; the other was not. I am still working through Jim's passing. He hangs around me quite a bit and I find it comforting. I learned so much about life and myself from being with him. He learned from me, too.

I hope that this year brings more joy than sadness, more growth, more love, and more success for you and me. Surround yourself with people that have good intentions and open hearts. Ones that want to play and be mischievous. The kind that will laugh when you laugh and cry when you cry. Those that are like the citizens of Who-ville. They will help your heart to grow.

From Dr. Seuss, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"