The Way I Weigh Things

Life can be messy; rarely does a situation close before another begins. Life is filled with hurdles … overlappings are common. It’s a challenge to see beyond the place we are now and give thought to where think we want to be tomorrow … especially in turbulent times. It’s moments like these I turn to books, re-align with my intentions and reach out to friends who can handle me being all raw in my processing of ’stuff.’

When I feel like the ground is moving beneath my feet I turn to those I think I can count on. Like friends new and old, stress management coaches, previous husbands, legal experts and my sister the stargazer just to name a few. Their perspectives always bring me new questions to pause with. The Gestalt theory plays into things in my life pretty BIG. Right now I am on pause for very good reasons I don’t quite understand nor feel a need too. My final decision is sometimes a surprise to people in my life who’d prefer to avoid life and resist changes.

I am happy to share I’ve been sleeping soundly through the night for almost a week. I went from no sleep to nocturnal and then back to my natural state of early to bed early to rise. Thank goodness for normal. I’m also happy to share that more tenants moved out this weekend and that they were the caliber of folks I am not upset about saying goodbye too. I had the laundry room all too myself on Saturday. This kind of change is easy to embrace.

I’m beginning to see that intense self examination and testing convictions can be a collaborative thing for me. The people I turn to for advice, suggestion or a perspective — they make a BIG difference in my life. I especially love those dear ones I know that just let me hang onto their body and let me cry when I feel like it. I love the experts I feel close too and the ever-evolving ones I have as my blog friends — people I adore that are courageously following their own hearts at the same time.

There is only one thing better than releasing stress build up with a good cry. I’ve been indulging in good food, walks in the woods, long baths, and books that I have forgotten over the years. Some authors speak to me intimately and that counts for a whole lot. I enjoy the demands my children make of me, they know what’s good for me more than I do sometimes.

Ayn Rand’s novel Anthem has some good words to share that give me goosebumps today, my thoughts in parentheses:

“I stand here on the summit of the mountain. (of all I have expanded to being and knowing to this point) I lift my head and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the quest. (I hand over what I think is right and good to the One who knows all) I wished to know the meanings of things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction. It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants me beauty to the earth. (I am grateful for all that I have seen and witnessed in my life) It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my ears gives its song to the world. (how I serve the highest good in this world is important to me) It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect.”

And I pause and look to all the things that have brought me to this place I am at right now with a BIG smile and heavy heart. I know it means saying hello to some things and goodbye to other things I once felt comfortable with.

Such is life.

Trees Talk to Me

I found myself staring at a beautiful and very large tree. This isn’t unusual, except that I was in the middle of a big city. The tree was in a pot big enough for all of us to hide inside it. BIGGER than a Buick.

I stared at the tree for several minutes. It looked like a piece of art surrounded by tons of concrete. I found myself thinking how wonderful it only needed a few conditions to do well, soil, water and sun. The tree’s need for sun made it more interesting to the eye.

The tree was eleven stories high. That’s quite a height … that’s a lot of shade I thought to myself.

My Neurons are Smoking

The thoughts that pass through a person’s mind, sometimes even without conscious awareness, have more far-reaching effects than most realize. Instantly and automatically, they register with each and every cell in that person’s body. What we call “the stress response;” the body’s response to an anxious or fearful thought.

-From the book, The Power of Intention by G. Ross Lawford Ph D

Thank goodness the chapter of October has closed. It was a little too spooky for me, especially at the end with news of the impending foreclosure, living in an unsafe to occupy building and stuff like that.

I am realizing again, for the thousandth time, that not all decisions and choices are in my hands. Accepting which ones are, this helps a lot. I’ve been watching my neighbors friends move out all weekend long, day and night around the clock. They added to my feeling of safety while I lived here. I hope they appreciate that extra hour of sleep today. Drug dealers might move into their old apartments and give a security door key to their guests … guests who like to rob nice folks that used to live here. (Insight to experiences I’ve had .. my physiology and the thoughts that think me from time to time.)

I discovered something last week; being in a state of high alert can steal your sleep and quickly make you dysfunctional. I think electrical fire hazards in my apartment building have engaged cellular memory of a house fire we survived eight years ago. My brain thinks I am in danger and won’t let me sleep. Though I have made progress going from no sleep to nocturnal these past few nights.

This circumstance has helped me decide that I need to move. The fifty pound fire extinguisher I bought hasn’t added a whole lot to my feeling of being safe. Some think I need medicated, others offer to lend a truck or point me in the direction of an apartment for rent that accepts pets — they have helped the most. I’m choosing who I speak to very carefully these days.

I did have a ten hour night of sleep Friday night at a hotel across town. My daughters father rented a hotel room so he could come and protect us escort us through trick-or-treat night. Not only did I get some sleep, I was told that I was sleep talking and spoke something clearly from la la land: “I’ve got it, everything is going to be okay.” Funny that I’ve been showing up in my dreams this year; interacting with myself as a friend, as a doctor, as a baby, and as a driver. If you want to think that is insane or crazy, it’s your choice. I don’t believe what some people say.

Anyway, I’ve been stressed out over things I don’t have a choice in; I don’t have the choice of who my neighbors are, I don’t have a choice in the price of food, I don’t have the choice to move far away for a contract I want to accept, I don’t have a choice in how others value their decisions or how they behave … I don’t have a choice in matters not in my hands.

If I think I do I get all stressed out and constipated. Life changing mid-flight weighs heavier on me than others who fret over what choice of shampoo to buy. I accept that some just can’t venture a leap to the objectives and considerations I have to make or even what it’s like to feel unsafe. Funny how it reminds me how rare it is to meet minds with some people in this life who value other ’stuff.

Accepting that my body chooses to go from ‘no sleep’ to ‘nocturnal’ may be magically tied into what I wished for on my birthday … more humor. I really need to be more specific with my wishes I think.

I am Stardust, I am Golden

“Fashion is what you adopt when you don’t know who you are.”

-Quentin Crisp

I can conceive the inconceivable. I’ve always considered this a creative asset though I admit, sometimes it isn’t. Like when I get scared about issues that affect my home or the wellbeing of my children. When what I value in life is undermined … it’s a BIG thing that calls me to do something. Seek the answer … “What! What! What! do I do?!” KNOCK,KNOCK, KNOCK. Dare I say that I have had little rest for a few days, knocking and seeking, imagining the worst possible scenario regarding my Urban Apartment headed towards  foreclosure being sued by the City, it’s an unsafe place to occupy. My dear friend and neighbor Jake has already decided to take residence somewhere else. His happy face gives me a lot of joy and he’s definitely happy about the security of living in a safe apartment not going into foreclosure. In a building that is safe.

I have had very few moments of feeling safe or secure, especially in my childhood or married life . Though I trust Life after all these years as a single parent. It has helped me balance things in life that are truly important too me, I take bigger risks than the herd at large. I have nothing to lose in this world. It’s caused me to build a stronger foundation in what I believe in and value in life. Like love, for instance. The love I have for my kids is so much BIGGER than me. It’s been this way ever since I became a parent and made choices on their behalf and for the world at large.

True to my Ayurvedic dosha, I’m a Vata who can suffer from excess worry when life dishes me something that is out of my hands. We all have a unique physiological balance to contend with, dualities exist in nature everywhere. The difference between scared and sacred is a duality like love and fear. The artist in me, the one who sees contrasts, realizes this trait for seeing contrasts can be a liability or an asset. I am tested often and much, it’s been this way my whole life. Now I am 46 and can see how it has served me and those I love. I think I am defined by what I give.

Being scared is a temporary state of mind that can be helpful — or not. Being scared is an emotion to savour on Halloween … it’s an emotion that tells me it’s time to make a change. Resisting change is a liability I think, I’ve learned this over and over again.. I recently read that being scared is like a traffic light, a signal that tells you it’s time to stop, or to go, or to proceed with caution. Sometimes being scared sounds an alarm that helps you decide to swim instead of sink.

Being scared makes me ask a lot of questions I can’t answer: “”What will I do if _____ ” … these can haunt me when I forget how sacred I am. When I fail to remember I can trust in life.

I found out that if you think about what scares you for too many days it can exhaust you and you might lose sight of what you value, like sleep for instance. I confess, I wanted to go to LA, I still had an urge to leave until a few days ago. But what I really I needed was a budget exit. I needed to set my cares aside. In these past few days I remembered I am more sacred than I am scared. A little dyslexic spiritual perspective has helped me return to a more natural state today … though I admit I’ve got a ways to go. The place I was prior to the news life would be changing again. I forgot that I was the shore and life was the ebb and the tide.

And maybe it’s paint fumes affecting me again but I was just thinking about the knowing … the knowing all of life descended from the same Big Bang, all of life is made of the same particle of stardust. This makes us all One … and then I remembered it makes me One with the entire Universe of possibilities.

I’m trying to remember that being sacred instead of scared will align me with my truer nature . Remembering that I have the wisdom of the Universe guiding me it helps a lot. I almost forgot, change is knocking at my door and I don’t need to be scared. I just need to remember how sacred I am.

And that’s where I am, sitting on the moon with no where to go. The difference today, I am trusting in life again, remembering who I am. Made up of the same 92 elements of the Universe as you are … I am stardust. We owe it to ourselves to honor the stardust in our self and in each other. Reminds me of a song that echoes in my memory:

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me
I’m going on down to Yasgurs farm
I’m going to join in a rock n roll band
I’m going to camp out on the land
I’m going to try an get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

What I want, wants me too. I forgot … I belong to Life.

T Minus Marvelous

Five days ago, on Monday, me and a few other Tenants of my urban Apartment building met the Banker. The man who owns the mortgage on the building. He gave us a notice that he was collecting rents and let us know the Owner is in arrears on his real estate taxes. Worse than that though, the City has a suit against the naughty Owner. Turns out that the Inspector has deemed this historical apartment building unsafe for occupancy. I know, it’s a mind blow.

That’s another little thing I hate, being the last one to know that I am living in a building that is unsafe. Information this BIG being delivered to the Tenants last, the ones affected by poor decisions and lack of responsibility … there is something seriously wrong with that picture. I think it’s time to re-write a few laws that serve tenants in the state of Iowa.

Halloween Rising

The spirit of Halloween is creeping in. My nine year old daughter Mia just thought of a lovely idea. She thinks that Halloween should be celebrated at the cemetery and that kids should be able to hunt for candy around the tombstones. Like an Easter Egg Hunt in the dark. And right when she expressed her idea, her sister Bailey beefed in to counter her brilliant idea by saying, “Oh yeah, like, thank you Jane Wilson, sorry you’re dead … but thanks for the Milky Way.”

Can you tell that there is a twinkling of a teenager on the horizon? Now that is scary.

And I can’t help but share this clip of Halloween night five years ago. My son Joe was still a boy then and dressed as a mummy, Bailey was Hello Kitty and Mia was a little fairy.

I’m In Good Hands

This is a picture of me with my niece Ashley several years ago. I watched her grow up all of her life and have always felt I was her experiment. (A willing Guinea Pig)

She’s a make-up artist and we got to spend some time together this weekend to start up a blog for her. She lives in Kansas City and was recently laid off because she is now too qualified for a major salon that she has been employed by for almost three years. She’s recently decided to go solo and freelance. Ashley can make real looking scars on your cheek and varicose veins on your forehead.

She belongs in Hollywood.

Though, I’d prefer she worked with Oprah, Chicago is much closer to me. Her presence in our lives is BIG. Her being here this weekend was fabulous. She’s a magnet. She magnetized my nieces and nephew to come and stay here with us in the Urban Apartment which is currently being painted.The Urban Apartment that is now officially in the process of foreclosure. That’s the BIG news for me on the planet.

Labeling People, a Little Thing I Hate

There’s this little problem of how we value a being.

Something I hate, when you meet someone and they ask, “So what do you do?”

What do I do when?

What do I do when the children quarrel? What do I do when the smoke alarm goes off? What do I do when I’m alone in the woods?

I know they are asking, “What is your primary economic arrangement?” But they don’t ask that. Or, maybe they are asking something more general, “Where are you kept during the daytime?” But then what? Am I being asked about my roles? Which one: graphic designer, mother, aunt, sister, neighbor, friend, ex-wife, student, volunteer, etc. And sometimes, there are these rare individuals who want to know what church I go to before they ask me what I do. I’ve learned to avoid them and give them a dollar.

What would be even more enlightening is asking me where I am kept at night, and what I do then. But no, people ask, “So what do you do?” And I just smile and say I do whatever I enjoy at the moment and watch them wrestle with that.

As for me, I could care a less what occupation anyone holds or where they’re going to school. What I do care about is what makes them enthusiastic about life. I care about what makes them laugh and what makes them cry, I care to know if they like tomatoes and onions and what music they listen too. I can tell on my own how long it’s been since they’ve picked up a book.

Most of all, I care about what they do when no one is looking.

My Favorite Truism of the Year

What I love and what I hate defines me I think. Maybe the meaning is etched in the contrasts somewhere. It may be the paint fumes have gone to my head, but I’ve been thinking of all the things I am made up of … like what I love and what I hate. What attracts me and what repulses me … I think my own liberation is between the two.

I refuse to dance around peoples delicate ego’s and pansy assed excuses. I refuse to pretend I’m not angry at those who piss me off or make me feel nauseated. I refuse to let a day go by that I don’t tell those whom I love that I do. It’s possible I can love someone and hate their behavior. Yes, it’s true.

I refuse to shut up about things that are important to me. And it’s okay if what I think is important is not on your radar, isn’t your priority in life. I refuse the idea that your love, attention or approval is important. I refuse the idea that one religion sums up who God is … the creator, the universe, your higher power. I refuse to believe your existence is anything but perfectly orchestrated.

I refuse to believe that anything is wrong.

I refuse to think I am anyone less than I came here to be. You and I were born into eternity for a very good reason.

Embrace that idea. Live it.

I Confess, I’m Obsessed

I picked up a paintbrush on Friday and set out with a mission to paint my daughters new bedroom … my old sanctuary. I became totally absorbed with finishing the walls, ceiling and closet and gave up mostly everything else to see that this was done by Sunday afternoon. Bathing, blogging and cooking fell off my radar. I can be annoyingly persistent with deadlines like this. I looked like hell Monday morning but I had a new fashion statement and a smile on my face.

And I’m happy to share that Bailey, my twelve year old, spent the night in her new room Sunday night. The color of her room, different hues of tan, resembles a study some how, and the final touch that she wants: lyrics to a song in calligraphy on a wall. Which lyrics she hasn’t decided upon yet, I’m holding my breath that the song has something to do with Yasgur’s farm, joining a rock and roll band and getting back to the garden.

I can’t wait to share pictures of my daughters dream bedrooms once we have everything finalized, after Halloween for certain.

So I fell in love with painting and I’ve spent all of my free time with a paint brush in my hand. I got sucked into some kind of vortex. This morning I woke up and trimmed out the area by the front door, the entry way. I’ve made plans for the living room. I’m kind of excited that the ‘living’ room is all mine as of late … my son Joe thinks of this room as a hotel lobby. Of which city I wonder. I haven’t traveled far but my imagination is open for inquiry.

And all of next weekend while my daughters are away with their dad, I’ll be transforming my nine year old daughters room into a spectacular haven of her own. Deep purple is her color. I’ve got to figure out how to make ’swirls’ on the ceiling some how. It feels like I’m recording a little bit of our history on the walls.

Tonight, while down in the laundry room, I envisioned lilly pads on the floor surrounded with deep blue water and a big dragonfly on the wall amongst cat tails and a sky blue ceiling filled with clouds. Perfect for a laundry room don’t you think?

I may paint a window with a farm scene in the kitchen. My urban apartment may well be the perfect place to live up to my dreams. The idea has my neurons on fire.