523 PROLOGUE #2 A TREE GROWS INSIDE ME

 Daily, I ask myself what was it about attending my reunion

That felt so heady?

Intuition responds—

Too much to take in all at once.

Whatever caused such positive reactions
Is more than a heady drug
It’s a healthy drug—
So Annie, just let whatever that is buoy your spirit

With time and patience the answer to your question:
'What am I feeling?' will surface
Just take a leap of faith ...

If for reasons, determined by fate

A natural stage of development is delayed

And if opportunity arises to experience

This earlier stage sometime later in life

Consider yourself fortunate
Why?

Every stage of life is meant to be enjoyed or

Some vital part of your development
Will wander toward extinction—

You know—like the ice age did

How do I know this to be true?

Seriously?  Must sages must be quoted

Before you're convinced

That I know of what I speak?

So okay—for those who feel the need to call me out

I'll admit that if asked how I know this stuff to be true

I'd reply—I just do  :)

I mean really—this is not a scientific periodical

This is my blog

So how about we just go with the flow

And see which station today's train of thought pulls us into 

Recently, I’ve found that going with the flow

Stretches me beyond remaining stuck within
Yesteryear's narrow minded comfort zones

And God knows, my mind needs

A good stretching, now and then

In fact, we all need a good stretching

Or we'll watch juicy minds shrink up

Instincts prune up

And spirits sink into the pits ...

How do I know?

Been there, twice—sayth the raven—Nevermore ...

You'll not watch my solution-seeking skills strike out!

While writing, today

I picture myself standing before my tree—

A sheltering canopy over my childhood home

I reflect over its power—

The power of Mother Nature—

Roots planted deeply in the earth

Trunk standing proud and tall

Branches reaching out freely—

The whole weathering whatever comes—sun or storm

Year in and year out—

Takes my breath away …
Know what I mean?

Reflecting over the resilience of my tree

Empowers me—

Reconciles me—to this fact:

Rather than developing debilitating concerns

Over growing older

Tis good to stretch up and out

Toward embracing each advancing stage of life

After all, when considering choices

It's healthy for mind and spirit to embrace

Each stage of life with a joyful sense

Of positive focus intact for this reason:

Embracing reality is a healthier approach

Than ruminating over what's been left undone—or

Worse yet—

Doing one's best to deny life's ultimate destination

Seriously, maturity requires acceptance of—

Life on life's terms

A time to laugh

A time to cry

A time to live life's every thrill

A time to end at peace, at last

If asked to describe my blog in four words I'd say:

Choose reality over denial

Why?

When life and fantasy do not match

Spirits, which remain blind to reality, drown in misery

Did you ever drown in misery?

You can believe me when I say

Abject misery is not a good place for any adult to visit—twice

Though denial provides shelter for a frightened child—

And though my mind has had reason to ‘vacation’
In Denialand more than once ...

Forcing memory to hide inside

A closet in my mind is not healthy, over long

Today, my mind is busy seeking keys

In hopes of stopping skeletons from rattling my nerves

Though the act of writing flows naturally from my core, I have no clue which words will provide safe passage toward subconscious secrets that my spirit needs to know.

In truth, trains of thought just chug along, like coupling cars, all on their own.  This had not been true in the past, when I’d felt the need to stop, car by car, to edit my work, repeatedly.  Today I can see that at that earlier time, I'd tried to control the unknown.  Today, I allow the unknown to whisper its secrets into my ear one puzzle piece at a time.  Which ear?  My open, courageous ear.  As to my deaf ear? That one still stumbles around with its eyes closed in the dark.  As long as one ear is deaf to deeper truths, a paradox I'll be.

Somehow my reunion brought on a joyful shift in my attitude.  As attitude shifts are often as freeing as choosing to go with the flow—I’ve been encouraging my deaf ear to float down stream like a salmon that takes time to smell roses rather than swimming upstream to spawn, exhaust and die without experiencing thrills missed early on.

Several years ago, a dear friend lost his business.  In truth it was swindled away, cutting short his son’s childhood.  When the boy went to work busing tables at thirteen, my friend and his wife were beside themselves with angry remorse deepened by guilt.  How could this happen to us, she said.  How could I be so stupid, he said.  Naive and trusting is not stupid.  Stupid would allow that to happen, again.  As sad as their story proved to be, I knew that one day their thirteen year old son would play.  And not just play.  He'd not be swindled of his livelihood.  When the boy grew up and faced his turn at feel shocked at having his trust betrayed, he bounced back and came out on top.  Why?  Because he watched his parents work, non stop, to recover their losses, that's why.  In the end, he watched self respect win.  As to the partner who did the swindling? He snuck out of town, penniless, with his tail between his legs.  As to my friends?  They stand as tall and strong as my tree.  As to their son?  He is succeeding and playing, just as I'd thought.  Amen.

Though I do not understand its meaning—yet— this welcome change of accepting life on life’s terms empowers me with insightful strengths, which had been half baked at younger stages of life.  Perhaps by placing my faith in my history I forge ahead, today, without need of knowing where this new path will lead me, next.  All I can say for certain is this:  I feel that something I'd once sensed is true, through and through.  And today, I feel free to be me as long as fear doesn’t cramp my mind or choke my voice as had once been the case.  As long as I feel free to go where I long to go, conscious trains of thought, which propel me forward, convey me toward stations where insights prove more freeing and connective than ever before.  Why?  At each station insights enable me to unload baggage, which had previously, unknowingly, placed unnecessary weight upon mind and spirit.


Once I'd worried about offending everyone—strangers included.  While working to please everyone, my mind wore out twice.  My spirit, too.  And guess what else happened when I fell down?  Not only did I not succeed at achieving the illusive goal of pleasing one and all—many proved disappointed in me when I could not get up on my own.  I mean, where was the mutual support that I'd given so freely when those who'd deemed me lacking had been need of my helping hand? Geez!  All I needed was what I'd given in the way of positive focus—but while in such a befuddled state, I'd no clue that that had been the missing ingredient that made every cake I'd baked and served fall flat of tasting sweet.  By the way, another way of saying 'negative focus' is bah humbug.

As no man is an island ... and neither is a woman ... I've learned with whom to share my inner self and with whom to discuss the weather and no more.  Respond to my quest for truth with defensiveness, watch me grow quiet and step back, just like that.


Sooo in addition to the classic fact that we can not please all, all of the time, what else did I learn when the trust I'd passed out so freely, crashed big time?  No more squeezing my brain between rocks and hard places for me.  As soon as my brain feels squeezed in a vice, I instruct my decision making process to relax and shift toward wait—see what develops on its own.  Why?  Within that vice resides confusion, which leads toward fight/freeze/flee.  As fight/freeze/flee often leads toward making irreversible mistakes, I modify that trio of basic instincts by adding brainstorming into the mix.

As fighting or fleeing is not my m.o.

I stand in place, quietly, contemplatively

Weathering the worst of each storm—you know—

Kind of like my deeply rooted tree

And once the eye of the tiger calms down

I call upon logic
To blow that vice of confusion out of my mind

Once this problem-solving plan takes place
Clarity points toward what I need to do

To maintain my good health—
And thus, no matter what else is blowing up all around me

I take instruction from my tree, which stretches up toward the sun—

As do I


Rather than feeling stuck, squeezed in a vice made of rocks, hard places, sticks and stones, I've spent the past four years learning to take good care of me without putting nay sayers down.  Aha!  At last—an achievement worthy of positive focus and hard work.  At last—a goal that with time and patience I can excel at.

Though it's true that go-with-the-flow proves hard work for world-class pleasers, I remind myself to relax and pass that up-tight baton to whomsoever holds out their hands.  And though it is hard to let go of control, it’s true that everyone's replaceable, so pass the baton—before exhaustion hits—I do.

 \ As I know everyone to be exhaustible, replaceable, expendable, I choose to live my life in such an unconventional way so as not to be—erasable.

(Aha!  Finally!  A suitable way to symbolize a light saber, streaking through a blue sky, seeking to lighten heavy weights that plague my mind!  NGU to the rescue, again!)

Let’s dwell a bit more on my tree:

I love this tree.

I feel as though this tree

Seeks to shelter me ‘neath its umbrella

As my father would have done

Had he known of the storms

That caused me to itch to get out of my skin—literally

For most of my life
Needless to say
I couldn't tell him what my subconscious kept secret from me

On Friday of my reunion weekend, my dear friend, Debbi and I enjoyed lunch, enjoyed the tour of our high school and talked up a blue streak while she drove toward the corner lot upon which sits the home of my youth.

Let's imagine Debbi pulling her car up to the curb and parking.

Imagine me getting out of the car, walking instinctively across the street and staring up at the expanse of my tree, breezily beckoning me to breathe in its strengths, instructing me to ingest its strengths before flying back to the state, which I call home for 36 years.

Imagine me standing across the street from my tree, watching a man much younger than me walk out from the side yard toward the front stoop of my childhood home.

For a moment let's glance toward the right of that side yard, so you can see the alley where I’d pummeled Joseph all around his head.  Now, look back at the man, who spying me staring intently at his house, stops in place right next to my tree and quizzically matches my stare as though he and I are playing that game—who will blink first.  Somehow, the tension of our connection ignites my spirit to bound across the street.  So here we stand, this man and I, but now that we're inches apart, face to face, something inside me smiles from the inside out while I explain that his house had once been mine.  At this his smile answers mine; a door swings opens inside my mind and I hear my voice ask, hopefully even somewhat boldly,  if I can come in and envelop myself within my youth.  As as we stand on the front stoop engaging in conversation, strangers connecting as friends, this is what transpires:


You lived here?  Are you one of the Goodmans?
Why—yes.  I’m Annie, how did you know?

My grandparents bought this house from your mom and dad.

Then my parents bought the house from my grandpa.

And this year, I bought it from my dad.

My heart leaps with delight to know that Dad’s dream house has been this family’s dream house for 32 years!  Now my new friend seems as eager to welcome me in as I am eager to follow his lead into 'our' house, which has provided safe haven, first for my family and then for his for half a century.  Though the young man continues to speak while we move from room to room, and though I feel my smile sparkling in response, my mind spins into a surrealistic swirl as memory unfurls, and my ear can’t help but tune him out, because the sum of my parts are busy conjuring up beloved voices from the past,—in fact—if this young man could see inside of me, he’d witness my much younger Mom, Dad, sister, Lauren and Grandma dancing through my head.  Maybe he'd even see Joseph, pacing outside, whistling in hopes of a twelve year old girl meeting him half way.  How different my life would have been had my courage surged just enough, back then, to turn the door knob in answer to opportunity's whistle ...

Can we go upstairs?  May I see my room?

Sure.  Why not?

So here I am, gliding up those stairs, hand sliding up the same wooden banister that led me to my room and then back down those same stairs on that fateful day when the Hebrew school van picked me up, vulnerability, trust and all, driving me straight into hell where my self esteem burned to a crisp four times each week.  And while my mind sweeps ever more deeply into this dreamscape of yesteryear, guess what I consciously see and feel?  I see and feel why I grew up to be paradoxical me ...

Though the furnishings and appointments are different, my room is—my room.  My closet my closet.  I can almost see my Peter Pan collars on hangers while my saddle shoes pair up on the floor.  The linen closet still holds—linens.  As to my parents’ bedroom and bath, both are remodeled—even so, the aura of the house as a whole welcomes me home.  So why do I feel so surreal?  Well, it’s not until later that I ruminate over having hurt Joseph.  It’s not until later that I think on the bully, punishing me on every path that's been mine through every stage of my life.  Though I’ve carried Joseph and the bully inside wherever I’ve gone—I’d not been conscious of their presence within me until after I'd taken that walk back in time from room to room throughout my house.  If their presence was not conscious, it has always been palpable, not only whenever I walk down memory lane but always and most especially throughout the entire reunion weekend—straight through to today.

See what I mean?  I never have a clue as to where the writing will take me.

Though at times I have trouble publishing a post after revealing a new awareness to myself, most times I publish despite my discomfort, knowing that I've never taken myself, consciously, to a bad place, as of yet.  That whatever stretches my mind out of a narrow comfort zone, today, will ease up within me, tomorrow or the day after that ...

 \  I feel the presence of the child, everywhere we go

Both sides of her

Today, I know this to be a deeper truth for me:

I am in need of a vehicle
In which to safely release her from an unbearable secret
Yet to be revealed—to me.

Annie, at every age, permeates my being as I write—both sides of her—strong, sure, cheerful, bright—scared, insecure, confounded—lonely—beyond belief.

Today, I’ve developed the strength to take this child, whom no one surmises still has need of protection, under my wing.

Today, when tears flow freely, I vow to be her tree—sheltering her from any bully who in the past had terrified her voice to choke.

Today no one bullies her with insulting taunts—no bully imposes unwelcome force upon her person—not on my adult watch—not while inner strengths, recently acquired as well as those which had need to be fully baked, have her back as well as mine.  No matter where or why or with whom Annie feels the need to run from and hide, my strengths support her vulnerabilities and call her to come out to play with me.  I am woman—hear me roar!

I find it intriguing to note that this fearful child still breathes within me.  That after all these years there are times when she surprises me, emerging trembling like a leaf.  Today while working to mollify her fears, I like to think myself successful in calming her mind in record time.  I’ve come to understand that her fear of the past wins over logic when I venture too far from a comfort zone that makes 'us' feel safe.  When fear controls my mind, I need to conjure up my strongly rooted tree and stretch my fertile strengths past the narrow confines of my twelve year old mind ...

I wish you could stand right next to the child, holding hands with both of us across the street from my amazing tree.  Each time I’ve tried to take pictures of its whole, the impossibility of capturing the breadth, height and scope of its power aligns with my sense of reality, because, in truth, fathoming the entirety of my tree proves as illusive as capturing any of God’s magnificent, independent creatures unless, some basic instinct suggests its desire to be caught ...

As always, I am here, eager to connect with you more meaningfully than ever before, eager to hear what you feel, think and fear deep inside the most private parts of your mind.  As always, I continue to hope for your comments, questions, whatever.  Otherwise, how will I feel your presence and support while continuing on my quest to free a child from experiences, which had been so secretly, deeply debilitating in the past?  As always, I hope to provide insightful support when conflicts arise that mystify you, too. 

Interestingly, this is what I heard while standing before my tree, last month:  My tree spoke to me, symbolically, more so than any subconscious memory, which has silently stalked me.

As to the message that my tree whispered into my ear:  From now on, I'll personify a person amassing personal strengths while growing toward maturity.  Thankfully, that is the message I packed into my suitcase, having plenty of space after unpacking baggage once my reunion weekend had past.  Actually, strike that—not the unpacking baggage part—the reunion having past part.  In addition to carrying home new friends and old, my reunion has not passed, at all.  By way of Face book and email my heart continues to touch so many people I love.  No one who'd interacted with me has any clue that they’d interacted with both sides of me.  While experiencing my inner life, privately, and in spite of physical limitations, which are not obvious until you spend more time with me,  I felt my sparkle ignite, naturally, throughout the weekend.  I mean, isn't it true that no matter what we do or whom we're with our inner lives accompany us every where we go?  For the most part, today, my inner life and outer life match.  Skeptical?  Just look into my eyes, and you’ll see into both sides of me.  I’ve grown to be an open book by conscious choice.

I find it interesting, today, to know that while my body sways in synch with my patio swing and my mind contemplates Mother Nature’s majesty, communing with my mountain infuses me with the same strength and repose as did standing before my tree.  Today, my brain knows itself to be a complex instrument, both resilient and flexible, rather than reacting as a defensively pressurized, immovable force.  I've come to understand that the rock and hard place, which wrestled within me, represent vulnerabilities pitted against strengths.

While gazing at my mountain, I connect with the strong spirit of my Dad, who has been resting peacefully, deeply missed, for eleven years.  I smile quietly to think back to when Dad had nimbly climbed my mountain—then his mountain—with several grandkids and their friends in tow.  While focusing my mind's eye on all that's good, I smile to hear the spirit of our family Pied Piper commanding a group of children, bunched together like sun kissed grapes—'Come'on, let's adventure into Mother Nature; stop pullin' up the rear.'

Tell me that women are emotional, men logical?  Balderdash!  Too bad you’d not met my dad—a man of many passions.  Passions inherited by me.  On the one hand—thank goodness for that!  On the other—my need for self control.  :)

Mother Nature does not beckon us into the wild.  She does not surround us—Mother Nature is us.  Life is meant to be lived wild and free!  Thank you, Barbara Kingsolver, for making it clear to me that I am at one with the animal kingdom.  Today, I see myself on the food chain—both feasting-receiving and giving-feeding.

As I've come to accept classic ways in which Mother Nature directs 'coincidental' meetings—which my heritage deems b'shert—a sense of interconnectedness replaced separateness with whole/someness.  I believe that once a person accepts this whole/some sense, each of us feels inspired to offer only the best of oneself to another.  In short, common sense suggests replacing a defensive stance with a sense of awareness of how readily strangers may develop into trusted friends, who really have your back and mine.  Stories to follow.

I don’t believe you can’t be too thin.

I don’t believe you can’t be too rich.

I don’t believe you can’t have too many friends.

Once upon a time my smile enjoyed tons of friends

They seemed to come out of the woodwork

At times, more hovered near than I had time for

Or knew what to do with

And I gathered them close ...

Then came a time when I was shocked to see

Which of those, who'd professed to be close friends

Were actually sitting on high
As though waiting to cast negative judgments at me

When I was most painfully in the depths of the pits
You see, it's not the fact that some cast undeserved judgment
That hurt the most
But rather Who had cast those judgments
Amongst those I'd trusted to have my back

Today, while developing a growing awareness

Of the person I now know myself to be

My appreciation of those

Whose belief in me had never wavered—

Has had reason to deepen, immeasurably

And you know who you are  :)

Though it’s my hope that a high school story will withdraw from my memory bank when our paths next meet—in truth, I can’t tell you when my stream of thought will bend in that direction any more than I can pinpoint which story will pop up on our screens.

If asked why I am at peace with this relinquishment of control
I'd reply:
I accept that the only constant in life is change
Each time I make the conscious choice to go with the flow—
This change in my attitude provides me with a well balanced view 
Concerning my need to work toward accepting all sides of my life—
The good, the bad, the ugly
On the other hand, accepting the fact that all sides exist
Doth not mean that I've stopped working to solve conflicts
Which inevitably arise

At times I commune with both sides of Mother Nature.

At times I confront both sides of Mother Nature.

At times I am Mother Nature.

And at those times when I am that trembling child

In need of safe haven ‘neath a deeply rooted, sheltering tree

I react like a mature adult as fast as
Insight into self awareness is mine

In lieu of self discovery, self awareness, mindfulness
I remain lost in a fog
When lost in a fog
You may find me swaying in tune with my swing
Swinging, back and forth, before my mountain
Reminding myself, gently, patiently and in repose that

No one directs my path other than me—

As soon as I push update

Thus sending this edited version of post 523 into cyberspace

I'll hope to reach out to you ...

And you ... and you ... and you—meaningfully

And now, I hope that when you think of me
You'll picture me sending you soft smiles

Knowing that one day, when the time feels right

The best part of you will reach out to me

And, together, holding hands

We'll trek forward, peaceably, not just with each other

But with both sides of ourselves intact

:)So sayth Annie the Salmon—

Whose mind swims upstream
Working toward achieving illusive goals

While her spirit floats on this white cloud of hope:

Each time fate deems separation a necessary part of growth

A spirit of connectedness will create reconciliation

More fruitful than that which had existed before

Oh yes—one more thing:
You might find it interesting to note
That not far from my swing I planted a tree

A tree quite different in scope from my childhood friend

This tree offers nourishment in the form of fresh fruit

My father’s favorite fruit to be exact

And each time February rolls around

You’ll see someone in our family

Raise the long wooden handle of the picker
High up into the air to catch a piece of fruit

And then as it is lowered

I reach out to grasp

Each big yellow ball in my hand—

And in this way our family communes with my Dad …

Funny grapefruit stories to come

So if you wonder whether love—or unresolved conflicts
End at the end of life—think again—
But don’t take my word for it—

Ask my dad’s sweetheart—my 99 year old mom …
Those stories to come

Okay, nuf said

:)My swing, hava java and repose await …