I don’t think I really learned to walk until I was an adult. Even then, I had to learn to walk again when I was 50- after I lamed myself. It is no secret; I walk for health. Not to become a monument of sculpted beauty and strength; but for all around health: spiritual, physical, mental, emotional. When I walk I pray, meditate, think. I gain a new perspective. This spiritual well-being acquired while walking multiplies the physical benefits of circulation and aerobic fitness. Better circulation of blood and oxygen improves my mental faculties resulting in sharper, clearer perception of my emotions. Bringing emotions into clear focus can be somewhat daunting. When I acknowledge my emotions, I must acknowledge the yearning and longing that surface with high definition in sun and nature. I am wary of acknowledging the longing and yearning. To acknowledge them puts me at risk of attempting to assuage them with false fulfillment. There is so much more I want to do and experience; let me not detour to cheap fulfillment; but rather, may I harness the yearning and longing and let them be a matched team that pulls my chariot victoriously across the finish line.
Old Style Multitasking
This morning I mentioned that I am tired of arranging my new home- in the same way one grows tired of eating out and craves a home cooked meal – even though eating out is also a favorite thing of mine. About 8:00 A. M I determined to forget any housework or picture hanging that might be on my “to do” list, and devote my time today to inspiration and self care. I washed my face, put in my contacts, put on my walking shoes and headed away from civilization and toward the red canyons that fan out from the ridges to the south and west of my home. When I walk I am multitasking because I exercise not only my legs and lungs, but my mind, spirit and emotions as well. An hour and a half later I returned and headed to the computer to update my status on Face Book. No sooner had I logged on than my cell phone rang. It was college student #1 calling to have a Saturday chat before the students for whom she is responsible wake (It was 10:30 A.M.). I quickly logged off. Unlike my children, I cannot hold three internet conversations and one cell phone conversation at the same time. Besides, cell phones just are not the same as the traditional old desktop phone. I haven’t yet got the hang of supporting the thing between shoulder and chin while continuing to type as I used to be so adept at doing in my twenties and thirties. I ran upstairs to get better reception and found I no longer had to yell. I was even able to untie and remove my walking shoes with one hand while I continued to talk and listen. Once my shoes were properly put away I removed my sewing machine from the box and got it all set up, then plugged in the iron and commenced pressing white pillow cases and other flat objects. Half way through touching up my professional sweaters and knit shirts I remembered that my phone has a conference call feature so by merely pushing a button I could talk hands free. Now I began to feel just like old times when I would save my ironing to do while talking to a best friend.
When Andrea bid me adieu, I finished my ironing and, seeing the sewing machine was ready to go and the iron hot, decided to alter a pair of office pants that had been hanging in the closet for a number of months. My search for a piece of fabric to use as a (ahem) waist expander took me to the garage. I wasn’t sure which of the six blue Rubbermaid tubs contained the fabric, but I had to move the 4 boxes of books to get to the tubs anyway, so while I was at it I rearranged the boxes in the garage so that Andrea’s things are all in one stack and my music crates are easy to access and Philip’s things are more condensed. In the process I found a little crate that will hold my spray bottles nicely. I brought it in and washed it off –and also ran a sink full of water to soak a few dishes in prep for doing them later. The first tub I looked in was full of wrapping paper items which really should be stored in the house. I hefted it into the kitchen and went for a damp cloth to wash it- and the other dusty tubs in the garage. Then I saw the tub of small child toys and brought it inside to keep in readiness for grandchild visits, but this necessitated rearranging the under stair storage and running upstairs for a hanging expandable closet shelf. While I was up there I turned off the iron. I finally ate lunch after re-heating it three times in the microwave. Thinking of the grandkids again I realized I would not be able to invite them over until I got the morass of phone and Ethernet wire up from the floor, so I ran that wire up the wall and across the ceiling. The afternoon was progressing and I remembered there were pictures to hang while it was still daylight and no neighbors were sleeping on the other side of thin walls. I had to organize the junk and utility drawer in order to put the hammer, nails, and stapler away when I finished picture hanging. Since the scissors were right there, I removed all the tags from the 12 sofa pillows I bought the other day. Then I remembered that I needed to look though the music crates to find saxophone music for the newest school band member. When I took four of the pillows upstairs it prompted me to rearrange a few things in my room to accommodate them…Dear reader, I took my morning shower at 5:00 P.M. and closed my garage door at 7:30 P.M. It is now after nine and I think I’d better go finish my dishes- they have had a good long soak.
In My Own Backyard
In the last 8 months I have made at least five trips to Gunnison and back; to visit, travel with, or provide transportation for Andrea. Each time I tell myself, “I really must take the Black Canyon North Route to Hotchkiss and around next time.” So, today, on the way home from a quiet 21st birthday celebration with Andrea, I did just that. I was alone and the car has been making funny noises, but, it was well worth the extra travel time. The colors are starting to change in the mountains. I turned onto highway 92 about four P.M. when the sun was poised languidly on the last toehold of afternoon, a beautiful time to observe scenery. I stopped at the “Hermit’s Rest” scenic overlook, parked my car and stood at the rail. Below me the Gunnison River backed up from Morrow Point, broad and green. I was able to do a bit of traveling this summer. Always the sights that caused me to linger, be inspired and refreshed were mountains, oceans, bodies of water. “And to think,” said I to myself as I drank in the mountain grandeur and fall foliage rising steeply on the other side of the canyon, “It’s right here in my own backyard.”
I Feel Welcome Here
You may know the struggle I had a year and a half ago when I left my beloved mountains of 8,000 feet above sea level and repaired to the high desert. I did not want to come here. I loved my rustic cabin, the conifer trees, the open space trails, clear air and perfect weather; and most of all the feisty mountain my blog banner is named for.
I did not want to come here – to the high desert. It was my plan to take a writing sabbatical in Seattle for 5 months, finish a novel, and then see what new adventures life afforded me; maybe on another mountain. But here is where I ended up. I finished my novel. I began another and another. I did not find a publisher, but I found a job. A good job. A job tailor made for me. I love what I do and who I am. The job fits so well that I feel welcome there, welcome to be me and to do what I do well. I feel welcome when I come home at night and write. I feel welcome here, in the high desert. Walking has provided great spiritual, emotional, mental, and of course, physical health for me over the years. I have walked many of the foot paths, back roads and trails in this high desert community. No one has shouted at me to get off the trail- that it is dangerous and I don’t belong there. No one has threatened to call the sheriff on me for walking on a public easement to get to a public building. I have made new friends at work, and at church. I bought lemonade from the boys next door in my new neighborhood.
I will not go so far as to say I feel at home here. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be truly at home anywhere on earth. But, I am able to make my home here, because; I feel welcome here. I am at peace.
You are Elastigirl! Pull Yourself Together!
We watched the The Incredibles as a family again a couple of weeks ago; I and my two young adult children, with our traditional home baked pizza. Now every time I head down my familiar codependent path and re-cloak myself in fear, insecurity, over-empathy, wondering for the millionth time if I really gave enough or provided enough nurture in former relationships, toying with the idea of more enabling; anytime I come near wailing, “what’ll I do? How did it come to this?” My daughter responds, “You are Elastigirl! Pull yourself together, whap, whap, whap.”
If you know the plot line of The Incredibles you are aware that Elastigirl had adapted into a perfect mom and wife, meekly following the government issued mandate that super heroes must remain in hiding, masquerading as mediocre people, thus denying they had any gifts or anointing and, in the process, enabling the corrupt system.
Readers, many of you know how easy it is to drift so far into service for others that you forget who YOU are. You forget to care for yourself; to be a steward of your God-given talents. Even though the term co-dependent indicates two persons, I don’t even need to be in a romantic relationship to be codependent. The women in my family line are codependent with the whole world. Every need pulls at our heartstrings and calls us, even obligates us, to self-sacrifice.
By the Grace of God, pull yourself together! Remember who you are! I am not talking about selfish megalomania, I am talking about using your gifts to be you, rather than using your gifts to meddle or enable someone else to be who you think they should be.
Even though she is nearly 21 and has super powers herself; my daughter still needs to see me be all I can be, rightly access the powers of a woman and graciously wield the gifts of all I was created to be.
You are Elastigirl! Pull yourself together!
Lion!
I don’t know if it was something I ate last night. I did have an extra serving of Selah’s birthday cake and some ice cream. I did have a few licks – a taste check and finger cleaning of the seven layer bean dip I made for the potluck today. But, in the pre-waking minutes before six A.M., I had a dream about a lion. I don’t know if it was a precursor of things to come; a sort of warning, or a manifestation of inner thoughts and fears. I was not particularly fearful of the lion.
In my dream I was walking back to my house, my childhood home, where I am now living temporarily. I did take a walk in the dusk and twilight last night, without fear or startle. I dreamed I was headed South on 12th Street from Horizon Drive hiking on the embankment that inclines toward what is now Horizon Towers. It was in the late afternoon. The embankment was rough and rocky as in the old days. Sandstone boulders leaned one upon the other like a railroad grade or new road base. Various piñon trees and scruffy brush told me this was natural terrain, not man made. I had to pick my way and scramble from boulder to boulder, much like I did in Seattle last month when the tide was in and I wanted to get from point A to point B along what had been a nice sandy beach the evening before. Suddenly, as I neared the ridge, there appeared a lion. An African style lion with full mane. He was about 25 feet away and though I tried to scream, “Mountain Lion!” no sound came out and I knew I was too far away from the houses to be heard anyway. It was not a mountain lion. I knew this in my dream, yet I persist in giving it the title, Mountain Lion. My mind and body were consumed by the immediate question, “What should I do?” Fleeing was out of the question. One jump of mine to the next boulder would accomplish nothing compared to the leap of this cat. Nor could I, in my summer shorts and sleeveless top, pump myself up to look bigger and more in command. The king was studying me. I picked up a fist sized rock, aimed, and threw. “Maybe I can distract him,” I thought, pitching another rock wide. With each pitch I moved in the direction of my goal: home and society. He turned his back to me, disinterested, and in his place stood a female lion. I felt wary of the female, particularly as I continued to walk forward and pass a half grown lion. Was this a cub? Would both parents come after me to protect the off-spring? I do not know. I woke then and I am sure, if anyone was passing my open window, they heard me talking in my sleep, trying with numbed lips to articulate the warning, “Mountain Lion.”
Happy Birthday, today we are the same age
Today my oldest turns the same age I am! He was born 36 years ago, shortly before midnight and he came into the world fast and vocal at the same time and has been fast and vocal ever since. How can this be? I ask myself- this phenomenon that a child and parent are the same age? The secret is: I have not aged. I still think of myself as 36. Enough about me. Happy Birthday son. Although my age and maturity might be questionable; your age and success is unquestioned. You are a man, a real man, a man’s man, and a woman’s man. You protect and provide and pursue and acknowledge in every way your wife, your children; and even extend your care and attention beyond your immediate family to your siblings, parents and grandparents. Who could ask for more? But, there is more. You are musical, passionately musical. You have not forgotten your dreams. You perform. You skate. You build. You engage in business. You are devoted to your family. I often say that I love to watch children grow. Thanks for being such a pleasure to watch for the past 36 years. Have a great birthday!
Describing Codependence
You know you are codependent when you self-sacrifice to give another what you want for them. You can be sure you are codependent when you are doubly self-sacrificing in order to provide what you want them to want and what they want. It is proof positive you are codependent when you pull out all the stops of self-sacrifice in order to provide for another person the thing you want for them as well as the thing they want; in hopes they will see the thing you want them to want is the better choice and choose that thing over the thing they thought they wanted. Love is complicated. Codependent love is convoluted.
“The negative idea of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the most important point.” C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Alone without a camera
I traveled without a camera. I had no companion along to snap pictures. No excess baggage. Instead, I bought lots of postcards-particularly in San Francisco. In Seattle, my gracious cousins accommodated me with housing, sightseeing plans…and a camera. Here are some shots ot the most beautiful day one could desire.
Weirdness In Seattle
If you are going to Seattle, you simply must have your own private tour guide. How else will you know when and where all the quirky sights and events are to be found? Take the summer solstice parade in Fremont, for instance. Billed as a non-motorized parade with over 200 bare bodied bicycle entrants; these celebratory solstice folks got away with nudity by painting on all their clothes and costumes. Some were more effective than others.