Shut the Front Door!

The end is near! The end of 2015 that is and I'm stressing a little over that. In January I wrote a blog post entitled "Word Search". I was very excited to find my "word for the year" and explore it fully over the course of 2015. I chose the word "open" because I thought it had chosen me. What a great word! Embrace it. Live it. Write about it. The year was full of possibilities!

The end of the year is here and I've got nothing! No earth shattering conclusions. Nothing about "open" to report on. No new life path. No concrete example of how I had lived with the word "open" for an entire year!  Other people choose words like balance or peace or serenity or empowerment. Achievable words. Goal-centered words. But I selected "open". Most likely the vaguest word in the whole dictionary! So indistinct in fact that I initially believed that I had not experienced openness at all. My eyes had not been opened to any new possibilities. I did not open my mouth and use my voice used to tell a life altering story. My mind was not opened to any new ideas. I barely opened one book a month. When one door closed another one did not open. The door just stayed closed. Maybe "closed" should have been my word. "Closed" is easy and doesn't require much thought or work at all. "Closed" is clear.

The really sad thing is that if I had chosen balance or peace or serenity or empowerment as my words I probably would be writing the same blog post. None of these words truly describes what my year has been all about either.

In the beginning MY word "open" felt like the most positive word in the world. Good things were definitely going to happen. I could feel it. All because of my very accessible word. Boy would I have a lot to write about in December. 

The truth is that some very positive things did happen this year. But so did some very negative things. It is no different than any other year. It's bound to happen. Whether you choose a special word or not. The good things you want to be "open" about and share with the world. The bad things you don't. This Pollyanna is always hopeful that only good things will happen. But being open to this doesn't keep the bad things from coming in the front door. Good and bad. Positive and Negative. Open and Closed. Yin and Yang. You can't have one without the other. The two go together. Experiencing the bad, sad, or scary times is when we are the most openly vulnerable and responsive to help, growth, restored faith, spirituality, friendship and knowledge. I know. It sucks but unfortunately (or could it be fortunately?) that's the way it is.

Reflecting positively on my year of "open" I realized that I have made some really great new friends this year and reconnected with old friends. New friends came into my life because of needs for help and I opened myself up to giving help. I opened my heart to giving and consequently others opened their hearts to me. I've opened my home to friends, family and strangers and others have opened their homes to me. I've opened my time to tutor kids in reading and volunteer within the community. Being open to new relationships has brought positive outcomes.  

I've had one occasion this year when I thought I might lose someone I love to serious illness. My heart was breaking and my soul felt lost. Close. I prayed to God and every other higher power that I could think of like I have never prayed before. Restored faith.  Open. Fortunately for me things turned out better than expected. Good. Gratitude. Eyes wide open. Some of my friends were not as fortunate this year. Bad. Terrible loss. Terrible sadness. Eyes wide open. Closure. Damn yin!

All it takes is one bad event and life changes. Enough to want to shut the door on everything and everyone. How hard is it to "open" the door to a different way of life and open yourself up to accept loving kindness again? Or worse, open yourself to be hurt again. A closed heart makes it impossible to let other people or opportunities in. A quote from an unknown author says "it takes sadness to understand what happiness is, noise to understand silence and absence to understand presence". I suppose it also takes understanding "close" in order to understand "open".  You can't know one without the other.

Aha!

So, what's so great about "open"? 

Here's what I've learned about the word "open"in one year. It's a perfectly good word. It's only vague when it's used by itself. It's a much better word when it is attached to another good word.  Think about it.  Open mind. Open hands. Open arms. Open door. Open home. Open air. Open fire. Open book. Open heart. It works. 

I believe that the word "open" can bring balance and peace and serenity and empowerment when you you remain "open" to people, opportunities and changes that come your way.

Love Match

My husband and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary last week. We met on Match.com. We are a Match.com success story! We should be in one of their commercials.  I know at least four other married couples who met on Match.com. For "older" people who don't want to meet someone at a bar or at work (complicated) Match.com is a very good option.

I joined Match.com seven years ago. A girlfriend encouraged me to sign-up when she joined. She said it could be like a "wingman" situation and we could help each other sort out the possibilities. I wasn't sure that I was ready but I joined for the shortest and cheapest time period to help my friend out AND test the waters. I "met" my husband online after three weeks. He emailed me. I did not find him. I ignored him and almost deleted him. Until I went to Florida a few days later to visit family. I told my stepmom that I had joined Match.com but I thought I might quit when the initial time period was up. I wasn't sure that I was ready. I had sorted through what seemed like hundreds of DUDS. Every guy seemed yucky and creepy. I told her that I had received a few emails.

Stepmom: "Let me see what you've got to work with."

Me: "Doesn't this one look like a serial killer?"

SM: "What's wrong with this one (my now husband)? He looks really nice."

Me: "Ugh! He looks like a big nerd. And he's an engineer. I'm NEVER having another relationship with an engineer. They speak a totally different language than I do!"

SM: (Reading his profile) "He sounds nice. Listen to this. He says he likes to listen to the rain and walk on the beach and drink wine."

Me: "They ALL say that. They all say they they like to watch romantic comedies and snuggle and drink wine until you actually go on a date. Then you find out that all they want to do is watch Red Sox games all the time!" 

SM: "Well this one sounds really nice and you're being a snob." 

And then for the real zinger...

SM: "At your age you can't afford to be so picky! (I was 46 at the time). You should be going out on a date with anyone who asks you. This guy seems nice and you just can't ignore his email. You have to at least respond."

Me: "Oh, alright."

So I go into my dad's office to type an email response.

Me: "Dear nerdy guy with the awful photo. Thank you for the nice email. My stepmother thinks you seem nice. She is making me do this..."
On second thought I better not be so snarky. Start over.

"Dear X. Thank you for the nice email. Sorry I have not responded but I have been on vacation" ( a little bit of a stretch but somewhat of the truth). Blah, blah, blah...

He responded back with another NICE email. Oooh. He likes wine. I like wine. He likes to play Scrabble. I like to play Scrabble. He grew up in Florida. I'm from Florida. Hey, he might actually get me!

We emailed back and forth for about ten days then made a plan to talk on the phone. The first night we talked for three hours. The second night we talked for three hours. He had a lot of interesting stories to tell. He had a deep, sexy voice. We had a lot in common. Oooh! This is starting to get interesting. After about a week of talking on the phone we made a date to meet in person. 

We met at a local restaurant for dinner and ended up talking for almost three hours. The conversation was pretty good however I wasn't feeling confident that there would be a second date. He seemed a little shy, didn't dress particularly well and I wasn't really physically attracted to him. We had a brief hug at my car and I drove home thinking that there would definitely NOT be another date.

But the guy kept calling me and I REALLY liked the guy on the phone. We made a plan for a second date a week later. My thought was that unless it was truly horrific the first time that I should give everyone a second chance. Everyone is nervous on a first date and may not be showing their true personality. 

My guy came to pick me up at my apartment this time. He had a cute little convertible. He also was wearing Levis and a nice rugby shirt. He looked much better in jeans. I saw potential. We went out for pizza and bowling. Bowling was a better choice because it involved action! Action dates are good. We had to focus on other things besides just staring at each other across a table while eating and talking. Even though this date was better I still left date # 2 feeling a little unsure.

But he just kept calling me. He wanted to go out on Thursday. I told him that it was the season premier of Grey's Anatomy and I wasn't going anywhere. He could come over and watch it with me if he wanted. So he came over to watch this show that he had never seen before with me. The poor guy tried to be a little bolder and suggested that he wanted to get to know me better. I shut him right down. I actually said "I really like the guy on the phone. I'm still not sure about the guy sitting next to me on the couch!" Ouch. That was a little harsh. I can not believe that he did not run away at this point and actually called me again. He just kept calling! He must have really liked me. So I just kept talking to this really nice guy on the phone.

We made a plan for a fourth date to go into Boston for Italian food in the North End. It was late in the afternoon by the time he picked me up and I hadn't eaten much that day. I get cranky when I haven't had much to eat and my blood sugar drops. Really cranky! By the time we got to the North End I was not a nice person. At this point I think my guy finally realized that he probably didn't want to go on another date with me! I was beyond the point of making rational decisions. We ducked into the nearest restaurant, Cantina Italiana, which just happens to be the oldest Italian restaurant in the neighborhood. The delicious meal, a bottle of wine and a full belly turned me into a nice person again. He made a mental note to notice the signs and get me food before I turn into a monster in the future.  We shared wine and stories and walked all around Boston. We went to the theater district and had dessert at Finale. We walked and held hands. 

We arrived back at the subway station around 11 p.m. and when we got on the train I fell asleep on his shoulder. He didn't mind. He said it was the best feeling he had ever had because it felt like I trusted him. And I did. Getting on and off the train I realized that this guy was not going to let me fall. This guy was really nice. And kind. And gentle. And patient. And he seemed to like me. A lot! Just as I was.  How could I have been so shallow and stupid? Big Aha moment!

When we got back to my apartment around midnight and before he left to go home I said "OK, I need you to kiss me like you mean it". He did. Then I told him to come over on Thursday before Grey's Anatomy for kissing lessons...

We were engaged eighteen months later and married on the second anniversary of our first date. Happy anniversary to the sweetest man on the planet! I love you and look forward to spending the rest of my life with you.

I fear that I am guilty. Should I be worried about that?

Fear. Guilt. Should. Worry.

The four most debilitating emotions in my world. I've had a few personal experiences recently that have led me to open the door and let these evil critics in. I try not to let the negative thoughts come into my head but by habit I let them in. It's a struggle to get them out of my brain. Anne Lamott says "My mind is like a bad neighborhood. I try not to go there alone". I know I have work to do. Again. "Ugh".

I have heard that people make decisions based on two basic emotions - Fear or Love. Fear is the emotion that guilt, should, shame, worry and other negative feelings revolve around.  Fear that something bad will happen. Fear of losing control. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing someone or something you love. Fear so disabling that I lose my ability to enjoy daily life. It's an absolute battle to get loving thoughts back in. Hafiz, a Persian poet, who lived in the 1300s wrote "Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions". Me too.  I find it interesting that fear is still an emotional factor 700 hundred years after this quote was first spoken.

Should and Guilt are twin sisters to me. I should do this. I should NOT do that. I should have said this. I should NOT have said that. I should call this person. I should send a card to that person. I should eat better. I should exercise more. I should read more. I should clean the house. I should do something productive. I should do this. I should do that. I should, I should, I should... My very kind-hearted husband tells me "Don't should yourself". Do what you feel like doing. Don't do what you don't feel like doing. I believe he has achieved some kind of enlightenment. I have not!

When I don't do what I feel that I SHOULD do guilt takes up residence in my mind! One definition for guilt is:

a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc. whether real or imagined.

I feel certain that my sense of guilt does not come from committing a grievous offense, crime or wrongdoing. It is not real but an imagined perception of offending someone else. "Shoulding yourself" results in guilt from a "perceived" poor decision. 

I am really good at following that "worst case scenario" rabbit down that hole and worrying about ridiculous things that most likely will not happen. That plane hasn't crashed yet. I haven't contracted the worst, incurable disease yet. My kids are alright. I've already survived some terrible events in my life. I lived. Worrying is not going to prevent bad things from happening or prepare me any better for when they do. Corrie Ten Boom said "Worry is a cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a center of fear".  Fear again. 


I realized (AHA moment) that these negative emotions mostly occur after I've had an unpleasant experience with a negative person. I tend to believe in the ultimate goodness of everyone. I believe that people will always choose to do or say the right thing. I believe that people always make the best choices. I believe that everyone has something to be glad about. I believe that people will be nice. The conflict in my brain arises when I'm confronted with someone whose beliefs are different than my own. The one in which "life sucks" and there is nothing in this world to be happy about. You would realize that your life sucks too if you would just take off those rose-colored glasses. So I take them off and start to believe that maybe there are a lot of things in my life that aren't so rosy. Someone I love is going to die eventually. Someday I might contract some dreaded disease. Something "bad" is going to happen. If I didn't have those damn rose colored glasses on I would clearly see the apocalypse coming.

I'm learning with every experience that "what is going on for them is about them and not about me". A good portion of my life I have made it about me. What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? I am a "people pleaser". From an early age it shaped who I am, what I thought and the decisions I made. The guilt, fear, worry and "shoulding" myself comes from wanting to make the people in my life happy and fearing that if I don't they won't like me. I doubt my own judgment and question my decisions. Was my perception of the situation wrong? Does this person really know more than I do? Are my feelings wrong? There's a good chance that I did not say the "wrong" thing, do the "wrong" thing or make the "wrong" decision. What's going on for them is about them and not me. 

I'm not guilty when I haven't committed a crime. Worry doesn't prepare you for when bad things to happen. When I "should" myself I shame myself and that is too much like a self-imposed punishment. It implies that I MUST do something or face the consequences.  Fear fills the room and does not let positive, loving thoughts in. When I make other peoples negative feelings and opinions more important than my own positive thoughts it creates internal conflict. This inner uncertainty allows the worst emotions to enter my mind. I lose sight of ME. 

I'm getting a lot better at pinpointing what IS going on for me when guilt, worry, shame and fear appear. I'm fighting back. When I take the time to think about why I am feeling such visceral emotions my perspective becomes clearer. The key is to learn what I need to learn about myself, let it go and move on. Quickly. Without letting guilt, worry, shame and fear hang around for too long or at all! Easier said than done but I feel as if I am getting better at recognizing the triggers. There is hope that I am getting closer to some kind of enlightenment. Eliminating these words from my vocabulary means trusting my own instincts and decisions and loving myself enough to say "No". I won't let you disable me. I've learned that for me it also means setting boundaries or outright eliminating the toxic relationships with negative people who cause me to feel these stressors. I like to think that as I am getting older I am becoming wiser. It is not selfish to put my own feelings first. It is OK to see things differently. Taking care of ME is essential to my happiness and well-being. 

One of my favorite writers is Glennon Doyle Melton. Check out her website and subscribe to her blog postings on http://momastery.com. Read her book Carry On Warrior. Watch her TED Talk. In several of her postings she talks about putting her "perspectacles" on. 

When I put on my perspectacles (my rose-colored glasses) it is amazing how clearly I can see what's going on. Plus, I look good in pink!

Well, who are you? Who, Who, Who, Who?

Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

'Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

From The Who - Who Are You

I recently attended my 35th High School Reunion. I graduated from Eau Gallie High School in Melbourne, Florida in 1980! WOW! I'm not 18 anymore!

It's amazing how going to your high school reunion can send you right back in time and make you feel 18 again. Right back to that same place and that same insecure and unsure person I was then. A little nervous to talk to the "popular" kids. What do we have in common? What is there to say? We don't travel in the same circles? Afraid to say or do something stupid that would make me seem ridiculous and haunt me for the rest of my days. Back then I spent a lot of time and energy trying to just fly under the radar. "Don't draw attention to yourself". "Don't do anything to get noticed". If I pretended to be invisible and not care about what was going on around me then there was little chance of getting my feelings hurt. I wasn't being my authentic self and I may have missed out on a few things. I am not the person who misses out on things now.

It was great to see old friends I've known since elementary school. The "girls" have turned into beautiful women and the "boys" are as handsome as ever.  I still see their young faces. In my mind I am walking home from school and my friend is teaching me to count to ten in Spanish. I get excited to walk past the cutest boy in school at his post as the crossing guard. I hurry out the door so that I don't get teased by that one boy over my "funny" name. My first "real" boyfriend (6th grade) is walking me home wheeling his 10-speed bike along side him. I don't know where he is now and he has never been to a reunion. I hope he is well. I've also lost touch with my best friend from elementary school and I feel sad about that. I was honored to attend her citizenship ceremony.  I hope she is well. I met my best friend Karen about two weeks into 7th grade. We have been friends ever since and for 41 years. She is my sister. We are family now.

I remember one boy from high school who used to annoy the heck out of me. He was funny and goofy and real. The last time I saw him was at the 20th reunion. He knew it would be his last. He died of AIDS before the next reunion. In just fifteen short years people are being saved and same sex couple can legally marry. I would love to have a good conversation with him about that and appreciate his unique personality. More so than I did in high school. As much as I worried about people judging me I was just as judgmental then. I was more concerned about how it would be perceived if I hung out with the kids who were viewed as "different" at the time. So I closed myself off from getting to know interesting people.  I am open to other people's stories now.

There were quite a few classmates that I did not recognize at this reunion. It was a big class after all and it was five years later. I "met" this really great lady for the FIRST time. Who was she? I don't remember her. She was sweet and kind and had a fascinating life story. I really liked her.  I would have liked to have known her in high school. I also spoke with a very handsome gentleman with salt and pepper hair. I don't remember him. I apologized and said "I'm really sorry but the name sounds vaguely familiar but I don't remember you? His response was "Oh, but I remember you!" What does that mean? How does he remember me? Maybe he was yanking my chain but if he knew me in high school how come I don't remember him. What makes a person memorable? How would my life have been different if I had been friends with these two intriguing people years ago? Perhaps I did not know myself well enough then to possibly be able to know anyone else. I guess I was friends with who I was supposed to be friends with at the time. I will know them and remember them now.

Thirty-five years later it doesn't matter if you were the most popular, the prettiest, the funniest, the smartest, the richest, or the poorest kid in school. Back then it seemed that it did. It defined who you were in a group. There were many different groups that existed based on who you were and what you did. You pretty much stayed within your group. My biggest regret is that I was not braver with the courage to just be myself.  I played it safe. I would have joined the volleyball team. I would have loved to work on the newspaper. I would have continued to play the oboe and stayed in the band. I would have paid more attention in Economics class. Maybe I would have tried out for a play. When I was younger I used to practice cheerleading in my front yard for hours. My dad was a coach and I used to study those high school cheerleaders intently at every game. Then I would go home and mimic every move they made. I could do cartwheels and backflips but I couldn't master a split. By the time I got to middle school I was too afraid to try out because I couldn't do that stupid split.  I lost my confidence. I played it safe for too many years. If I knew then what I know now I would have at least tried. When you don't try you fail anyway. The worst thing about fear is that it keeps you from being your true self. I am braver now.

The class of 1980 was a big class with I believe over 450 graduating students. I've been to all of my reunions. Over the years our numbers have dwindled. I missed people that I saw five and ten years ago. At the 10-year reunion most of us were newly married and had small children. Many of my classmates are grandparents now. Many of us have been divorced. Many of us have lost loved ones. Many of us have suffered illness. Many of our classmates are gone. We are all wiser now.

This passage of time has brought wonderful and powerful perspectives on life and who we are. Every reunion reenforces that more and more. We have a shared history with our classmates similar to that of our own siblings. We probably spent more time with our classmates than we did our own siblings. It feels like family and I am so thrilled that the class of 1980 is so close. Through social media it is so much easier to maintain the connections. I'm glad I know who you are. We are deeply connected now.

I'm grateful for the life I have had and honestly would not want to go back to high school or be 18 again. I can be my authentic self now and let you know the real me. The best thing about going to my high school reunion is seeing old friends, making new friends and feeling 18 again for just a little while though. I finally feel like one of the "popular" kids because at these reunions we're all in the "popular" crowd.

Rock on EGHS Commodores! Rock on Class of 1980! See you in five years!

Bloom Where You're Planted

I spent Mother's Day this year doing something I really hate! Gardening! I have many friends and family who love to garden. I don't! Some think gardening is a spiritual experience. I don't!

But after a recent trip to England where the flowers are abundant and the gardens are spectacular I decided that I needed to beautify my very small outdoor space.

My Granny Cox was an avid gardener. She had an enormous vegetable garden filled with every kind of vegetable known to man. All other available plots of earth were turned into flower beds. She loved irises the most. I used to spend the summers with her in South Carolina. One of my daily chores was to help her tend her gardens.

Granny: Take this bucket and pick some green beans for dinner.
Me: I hate picking beans because there are black widow spiders under the leaves.
Granny: Then go pick corn.
Me: The stalks are too tall and I'm too short. I'll need a ladder.
Granny: Then pick some squash.
Me: Too prickly.
Granny: Then pick blueberries.
Me: Too many bees.
Granny: Then go dig potatoes!

I tried but I never could get out of helping her. I loved the cooking part, and the eating part, and the canning part. The indoors where it's cool and I won't get dirty and sweaty part! I would wash dishes all day long if I could just get out of helping in that garden. I really hated the gardening part.

And yet, yesterday of all days, I decided to plant flowers. We got up in the morning and headed straight to Lowe's. I've wanted a hydrangea bush in the worst way for the longest time and I bought the BIGGEST hydrangea I could find. I also purchased day lilies and colorful annuals. I was ready to plant! I was excited! This would be great! I could do this. I had experience after all! Just dig a few holes and stick some flowers in them.

                                                   (Before - Weedy mess!)

The little dirt patch I had to work with is at the bottom of the steps from my front door. At most it is a three foot by four foot rectangle. Part of that space is taken up by a big grassy plant and a gas "thingy".  So my work space was not that big. I just had to keep my shovel away from that gas "thingy". I started to dig the big hole for the hydrangea first. Nothing! Why wasn't my shovel doing anything? I hammered it. I stomped on it. Nothing! If you watch the tv show "Modern Family" then you know what Claire sounds like when she yells for Phil to do something. That was me. Paul! Paul! Paul!

Me: I can't get this shovel to work. There's something BIG in the way. I think it's a big tree stump growing under the house. Why did I even come up with this idea of planting a bush. I could be sitting on the beach. I could be relaxing. And on and on and on...

Paul: Umm. Honey. That's the water pipe to our house and not a tree stump. Let me just go check and make sure there are no leaks anywhere... I'll be right back. (In his usual voice of calmness and serenity). It's going to be alright. All we have to do is move the hole for the hydrangea just two inches to the left.

Me: The instructions say to dig the hole 1 1/2 times the size of the pot. We won't have room to do that if we move the hole two inches. Why did I buy such a big hydrangea. I should have bought the smaller one. And on and on and on...

Paul: It's going to be fine. I'll dig and you just decide when the hole is big enough.

Me: Granny Cox didn't need instructions. She just knew what to do.

The hydrangea was successfully planted and Paul said I was clear to plant the rest of flowers wherever I wanted. Even on top of the water pipe. So I took my little trowel to dig little holes for the little flowers that remained. Nothing! Why isn't this trowel working?! Under the small layer of dirt there were millions of roots and rocks and sticks. Plus lots of slimy earthworms. Ugh! Gardening was not supposed to be this hard or disgusting!

Me: Paul! Paul! (My sweetheart comes running as he always does when I yell because he is wonderful and patient and kind and caring and loves me even though and especially when I am a grouch). This is too hard. What was I thinking. I should have paid more attention to my Granny. If she can see me now she is laughing her head off. I didn't learn anything from her. I don't want to plant flowers on Mother's Day. I want to hug my boys, and see my Granny again and drink mimosas with my neighbor and wear a cute floppy hat and cool Hollywood shades like my other neighbor and go on a picnic...

Paul: Then go dig potatoes...

So I sat out there and pulled out roots and sticks and rocks. And I thought about my Granny. I dug little holes. And I thought about my Granny. I gently moved the hardworking earthworms to other places where they could build a new home since I ruined theirs. And I thought about my Granny. I abused a few little flowers. And I heard my Granny say Be gentle. They're just babies. They're fragile. I gently put the baby flowers in their baby holes.

When I had planted the last little marigold I had a garden. I lovingly watered my little flowers and whispered please don't die, please grow. Watering was always my favorite garden chore at Granny's house. I would be the first in line with my hand raised high for THAT job. The nurturing and watching them grow job. The mothering job.

                                          (After - Flowers. It's a good start!)

I spent my entire Mother's Day with my Granny Cox. I thought of her and I worked on my little flower bed with her and I talked to her. I could feel her encouraging me. She stayed by my side and helped me feel less sad about missing my own little boys. It was very spiritual and I remembered...

I remembered sitting on her back porch at the picnic table and eating fried squash and cold, juicy cantaloupe and the best Kentucky runner green beans in the world. I remembered swinging on the swing surrounded by purple irises and watching the figs grow on the fig tree as I lazily took in the warm sun and sweet smells of summer. I remember using her  huge vegetable garden as the forest that the yellow brick road passed through to get to the "Emerald City" while acting out the "Wizard of Oz" with my summertime friends. I remembered playing croquet in the front yard and setting up a really tough obstacle course amongst the dogwoods and crepe myrtles. I remembered running through the sprinklers to cool off. My Granny was always there, watching over me, while lovingly caring for her plants.

My Granny has been gone for 20 years now. I miss her. What I wouldn't give to be that twelve year old little girl working side by side in the garden with her again. I would pick every bean and gladly take a few black widow spider bites. And I would never, ever complain about having to dig potatoes.

Gardening was her spiritual practice that filled her soul with happiness. I did not learn how to garden like my Granny. The most important lesson that she taught me was how to nurture and how to mother.

I love you Dorothy Mae Cox. Thanks for spending Mother's Day with me. Your grateful granddaughter and namesake - Dorothy Gaye.

Writer's Block

It's confession time - "Forgive me for I have not written a blog post in awhile". I have been suffering from writer's block. For a time this Pollyanna was on a roll. I had loads of great ideas and even made a list of topics to write about. All these super-fantastic ideas would keep me going for months. If I managed to produce just three hundred blog posts then maybe I could compile these into an inspirational book. At least it would be something I could leave to my kids. That would be so awesome!

Then "bam" I was hit with a brick to the head.

As a librarian I don't always turn to Wikipedia as a reliable source but in this case I do like their definition:

"Writer's block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work or experiences a creative slowdown."

The article goes on to state various reasons that a writer might suffer from writer's block such as lack of inspiration, daily distractions or adverse events in one's life.

By some stretch of the imagination what happened to me could be classified as an "adverse event". A person that I don't even know used my blog postings in a critical and disparaging way to form a negative opinion about me and the life I have led. That's the way I interpreted it. I was hurt and scared. I felt shallow.

In an instant I formulated the belief in my head that my "silly, little blog" was not going to help anyone (including myself) but might actually hurt someone I loved. Then the floodgates really opened. "What were you thinking? You're no writer. You don't even know what you're talking about. You're just pretending to be a writer like you did when you were a little girl. Did you even read Eats, Shoots & Leaves?" And the worst and most ridiculous thing that popped into my mind was "Do you even remember how to do a tree diagram of a sentence anymore?".

Ugh! I hate having that Negative Nellie on my shoulder. So I've been blocked. For months. It's not that I have nothing to say but that I've been AFRAID to say it. What if I hurt someone's feelings? What if I get sued? What if my contribution to social media is harmful to someone else? It's too heavy a burden to bear.

I don't like to play the "what if" game and I really don't like to function from a place of "fear". That's what this is really about. FEAR. Fear blocks us. I started to think about other "blocks" that we've created in our lives. We put up personal relationship blocks, work blocks, fear of failure blocks, weight loss blocks, financial blocks, educational blocks, health blocks and a plethora of other restraints that prevent us from doing the things we want to do. Whatever it is that we are afraid of causes us to creatively and productively shut down.

What would happen if we substituted one of these "other" obstacles for the word "writer's block" in the Wikipedia definition?

"Relationship block is a condition, primarily associated with being in a relationship, in which a person loses the ability to engage in a new relationship or experiences an emotional, relational or intimate slowdown."

"Work block is a condition, primarily associated with employment, in which an employee loses the ability to produce new work or experiences a creative slowdown."

You get the drift. They all impair our ability to try something new and they all slow us down.

Aha! We put up mental road blocks that keep us from physically continuing down the road.

Tim Storey is a motivational speaker and minister who has a new book called Comeback and Beyond: How to Turn Your Setbacks into Comebacks. He says that sometimes people have a setback, get stuck and then "settle in" to being stuck. They just stay in that stuck place for the rest of their life. They never move out of being stuck. I could feel myself settling in and staying stuck. I needed a comeback and I needed it now.

I've been scared before and I've been stuck before. I've had numerous blocks that have prevented me from moving forward. Eventually I sort things out in my head and realize that the biggest thing being stuck does is waste valuable time that could be spent on living.

Anne Lamott in her inevitable wisdom helped me with getting "unstuck" in this situation. In her latest post she talks about turning 61. She wanted to pass on words of wisdom and acknowledge some of the things she had learned in her lifetime. This is what she had to say about the writing process:

"Writing: shitty first drafts. Butt in chair. Just do it. You own everything that happened to you. You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves in your heart--your stories, visions, memories, songs: your truth, your version of things, in your voice. That is really all you have to offer us, and it's why you were born".

You can read the post in its entirety on Anne Lamott's Facebook page.

I have been told on more than one occasion that am a transparent person. I suppose that's true. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I usually don't mind sharing my life experiences with others. For the last four months I let the words of someone that I didn't know get into my head and temporarily restrict me from expressing who I am. I let it get in the way of my story. 

Stories inspire, motivate and teach. I learn from the life stories of other people. The best part of being a librarian is listening to patron stories and sharing experiences. One of my favorite broadcasts on NPR is StoryCorps. I follow Elizabeth Gilbert, Anne Lamott, Brene Brown, Glennon Doyle Melton and other motivational and inspirational people just to know their stories. These people that I admire never started out to be writers but life led them to write their stuff down.

Like them I have my own stories to tell. I use my blog to do that. I write for myself and I write for others who may be struggling with some of the same issues and emotions that I am feeling. I may never speak on a Ted Talk, share my soul with Oprah or publish a book but I can talk about my experiences and share my stories in the hopes that they will provide inspiration and motivation to others. Because in the end that might just be why I was born.

Word Search

Better than a thousand words is one word that brings peace.

                                                                                                                                - Buddha

Happy New Year! Several years ago I was introduced to a new way of thinking about the New Year. It has been a tradition at First Parish Church of Groton in Groton, Massachusetts for the past several years. Instead of making resolutions members of the congregation are encouraged to choose a "Word of the Year". The idea comes from Garrison Keillor's weekly radio show Prairie Home Companion and a column written by Mrs. Sundberg called The View from Mrs. Sandberg's Window. One year Mrs. Sundberg wrote that instead of making New Year resolutions she was going to pick one word and make it a part of her life for the whole year. Read about, embrace and live this personal word for a whole year.

A recent Facebook post reminded me of this tradition as numerous friends were posting their "Word of the Year". I must admit that I have never participated in this activity until now. I am an over-thinker who believed that it was impossible to come up with the best and most important word to explore for an entire year! Typically people choose words like peace, forgiveness, reflection, gratitude, courage, happiness or contentment as words for the year. This was way too stressful to think about! But as I was reading through the list of words that other people had chosen a word just popped into my head. Miracle of miracles. I had a word and I didn't even have to think very hard about it. Could this be the universe actually speaking to me?

The word that popped into my head was "Open". I told a friend that I had my "word of the year" and her response was "Yeah, but what does that mean"? I joyfully answered "I don't know yet, but I have a whole year to find out"! That's an awesome feeling and totally foreign to a person who always needs to know what is going to happen next!

Some of the first things that come to my mind are:

Open mind
Open heart
Open your eyes
Open to possibilites
Open to new ideas
Open road
When one door closes another one opens

It feels like such a positive word for 2015 and one that opens the path to something great happening. And it is MY word. It chose me more than I chose it. I suppose this means that I need to know it and know it well.

The year 2014 didn't feel like such a terrific year. Some good things happened but the good times were clouded by some incredibly sad moments of loss. I spent a good majority of my year focusing on the losses instead of being grateful for the good things in my life. I was stuck in that feeling and not able to move forward. Nothing really catastrophic happened to me personally in 2014. It just seemed like a year that was nothing but blah! I could not clearly see any open doors or windows. It felt like a year that I just plundered through hoping that it would be over soon. I won't beat myself up about it but view 2014 as a time of necessary reflection, healing and rest. However I am ready for more positive experiences in this new year.

Has finding a special word changed my attitude? Or did a change in attitude, a clearer mind and a New Year of possibilities help me find my word? I'm excited for the year ahead and exploring the word "Open". I'll take notes and let you know what I learned at the end of the year. I will try not to overthink it!

To learn more about the "Word of the Year" from The View from Mrs. Sundberg's Window read her column at:

http://www.publicradio.org/columns/prairiehome/sundberg/2014/01/02.shtml

Do you have a special word of the year?