Wednesday, April 30, 2014

1005 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 45 No Chupah? No Schtupah 9 finis

So let's take a look at December 8, 1943:
The United States is at war—over seas

In nations from which my parents fled
Bombs are falling, destroying 'civilized' life, indiscriminately

Servicemen, women and children—and
Every Jewish person whom anti semitism can find
Perish in the wake of mankind's brutish need to
Scape goat, conquer and control—

Makes me wonder what Mother Nature was smoking when
She created both sides of human nature …

1943
It was the worst of times and the best of times—
As proves true historically

While bombs were bursting 'over there'
Factories were booming, here
While men were losing life and limb for country and home
Women were walking through doors of employment which
Had been closed to the fair sex until
The bombing of Pearl Harbor swept our troops into WWII

It was the best of times and the worst of times
As proves true historically

While government programs cared for the poor
And schools produced top honors in math and science
Medical innovation made stupendous progress in
Combating disease, thus prolonging quality of life
On the other hand ...
Widows and children wept across our nation
And the civilized world closed its eyes
To the horrors endured by
Broken spirits of men, women, and children showered with gas
Bodies burned to ash while spirits held true to religious beliefs

If that was then and this is now then what are we to make of
The Twin Towers, 2001
Darfur in western Sudan, 2003
The Ukraine, 2014

Try as I might, I can't contemplate the history of mankind
Without feeling consumed by frustration concerning
The on-going nature of brutality bulldozing strides made
Toward creating change for the better
So, in order to calm my distress each time
Repressed frustration springs out of my depths
Here's what I say to lessen my stress:
The world was messy before I was born
The world will be messy after I'm gone
While I'm still on this side of the grass
I'll do my best to spread insight concerning
Mutually respectful methods of conflict resolution, far and wide
In hopes that differences of opinion
May be resolved peaceably rather than
Watching loved ones engaging in mouth to mouth combat
Then, after soothing my ire in this productive manner
I'll get off my soap box in hopes that you may
Step up on your own—I mean, other than
Passing this baton forward, why would I
Sit down to write, post after post, day after day, suggesting
The availability of communication tools, which
Prove so simple that my youngest child's
Highly impressionable mind absorbed
All five by the time he'd reached the tender age of four …
And having clarified this goal, yet again
I'll be a babe in utero, when next we meet, suggesting that
I'll have no clue
Of developing a brain that will, one day
Choose to lead classes and write a blog in hopes of
Inspiring families round the world to
Embrace a value system where speaking and listening skills
Inject mutual respect into conflict resolution in home after home
And if you ask:
Annie, how might families, gaining insight into mutual respect
Enhance our chance of attaining world peace, I'd reply:
If families, who love one another, can't resolve conflicts
In mutually respectful ways, how can we expect
Nations that mistrust each other to do that very thing?
Attitudes are acquired at home
Attitudes create thought patterns
Thought patterns are habits, which are hard to change
Bottom line: Parents with insight into developing positive attitudes
Concerning mutual respect, influence impressionable, young minds
To seek out solutions that embrace
The concept of lasting change for the better
And having described the jist of my quest
That's it for, today ...
As for tomorrow
Intuition suggests revisiting certain stories
In which unrevealed details will be unveiled ...
Your friend,
Annie
(Who proves determined to leave this world a better place)

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

1004 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 44 No Chupah? No Schtupah 8

At some point, Jack asks Jennie:
When are you going to take over the kitchen?
Jennie might as well have heard:
When are you going to mutiny?
With compassion for her mom's dependency, Jennie replies:
Jack, the kitchen is all Mom has left
Then, wearing her best placating smile
Jack's sweetheart goes on:
I don't mind if the kitchen continues to be my mother's domaine

I don't know if that rankles my dad or not
What I do know is this:
Both my mom and Grandma Ella were terrific cooks
Every night a delicious meal welcomed Jack home
And on Fridays, the fragrant aroma of
Grandma's baked goods wafted throughout the apartment
So if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach
It's likely that my father thought himself a lucky guy

I wish I could say all was harmonic from then on
However I can't
What I can tell you is this:
I was born at the end of 1943
Two years and one day after Pearl Harbor, to be exact
And I remember how scared I'd felt when
Vein popping, head on collisions broke out, now and then:
Each time I'd watched suppressed frustration spring free 
My mind snapped to attention while
Shivers of fear rushed down my spine straight into
My white, high-top, Stride Rite shoes …
So, I'd find someplace to hide until
Anger was spent and emotion calmed down

It's common for emotional outbursts
To take place in homes where
Adults, untrained in self control
Expect children to do as I say, not as I do
Suggesting how readily this rule of thumb is forgotten:
Little peeps tend to absorb and mimic
Everything big peeps say and do
This is why everything comes full circle, most especially
At times when grief, confusion and fear of irretrivable loss
Threaten a person's sense of safety

Though the emotional environment seemed harmonic when
Daddy's key opened our apartment's front door
Fear of emotional eruption stalked my peace of mind
And as emotional combustion proves too complex
For a toddler's undeveloped mind to comprehend
I'd scratched at myself while treading lightly on egg shells until
Insight into this fact catalyzed a change in my behavior, over time:
The degree of disrespect with which
A captain addresses the crew
Catalyzes a natural change in attitude from
Egg shelled obedience to mutinous rebellion, when
What we're really hoping to inject into our relationships is
An attitude of cooperative generosity

Monday, April 28, 2014

1003 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 43 No Chupah? No Schtupah 7

At some point after her engagement had been announced
Jennie was approached by Ella with this two step plan:
The money you receive as gifts will pay for the wedding celebration
And you'll tell Jack that you want me to live with you
As Ella's frown was a no-no—
That's exactly what happened—with one caveat split in half:
It did not occur to Jack that Ella captained the ship
It did not occur to Ella that that was about to change
And with one change comes more:
For example, he who captains the ship chooses his first mate
Upon falling for Jennie, Jack had thought he'd met his match
In truth, winning a mate and winning a match are not one and same
As Jack was as fiery a guy as Ella had ever challenged
All was not as peaceful behind closed doors as
Friends, invited for dinner, might surmise
So how did their power struggle subside?
Jennie made good use of her noggin:
Ma, Jack's the breadwinner, and he's not your son
You're living in Jack's home
If this doesn't stop, he'll pack your bag, open the door
And where will you go?
As Jennie's perception was right on the mark
Jack became Ella's favorite son-in-law
And peace was restored—with one caveat:
Jack captained the ship by night
By day, Ella steered the ship and stirred the pots
While Jennie accepted the role of first mate to both
And as long as no one frowned—Jennie smiled—
Then, as nothing stays the same—
Something changed—

Sunday, April 27, 2014

1002 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 42 No Chupah? No Schtupah 6

Though Jack had received a thumbs down from Lisa's Dad
Changing circumstances offer him thumbs up from Jennie's mom
First of all, he's not whisking Ella's daughter across the sea
To pioneer in what was still considered a desert waste land
Secondly, he has a steady income, distributing beer for a large brewery
Thirdly, he's proved quite the likeable guy
Fourth in this line up of pluses, as charming as he is with the ladies,
Jack proves a man's man, as well
And all you need do is watch him gaze at Jennie
To know that this heck of a guy is over the moon
As for Jennie's return of affection—
My mother offers love in her quiet, tender-hearted fashion—
Leaving the rush of passion to Jack—who instinctively
Keeps that trait under wraps till after their wedding

At any rate, lots of weddings in Jennie's family have taken place—
Perhaps Jennie's brothers are already married when
They'd first stared Jack down
Perhaps not—all I know for certain is this:
All four of my uncles' wives (or future wives)
Attend my parents' wedding
I know that to be true, because all four couples
Are seen dancing in the home movie which
Thankfully, someone had filmed on that joyous day

If you wonder why I'm ruminating over these details
I'll reply:  I'm trying to figure out why
Ella decided to live with Jennie and Jack, so let's look at the facts;
Harold had been laid to rest, years ago, and
No way did Ella, who'd captained her ship—
With Jennie as first mate—plan to be
Cook, laundress and maid to four grown sons, forever
In addition to that
Living at the mercy of daughters-in-law proved not to be
The captain of the ship's cup of tea
As Ella had grown too old to tote bolts of dry goods
On buses and elevated trains—
By a process of elimination—
That leaves us with Ella's devoted daughter and
Her brand new husband, Jack, who
Was too besotted with love for Jennie to say, 'No.'

'Tell Jack you want me to live with you, Jennie.'
'Okay, Ma.'

So right from the start
One plus one equals three
Begging the question
How many captains captain a ship, peaceably?

Saturday, April 26, 2014

1001 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 41 No Chupah? No Schtupah 5

Upon arriving home, Jennie sits in the hot seat
Facing down the third degree
This is the second third degree
The first occurred when Jennie told Ella
She'd made a date with a guy named Jack
Each time Jennie went out with a new guy
Ella looked him up and down
If she didn't like a guy's looks or attitude
Ella would throw Jennie 'a look'
And the tone of that 'look' determined
The degree of freedom with which Jennie enjoyed her date
Jennie thought she didn't have
A rebellious bone in her body
Just like someone else I know …
Though self discovery changed my perception of that mindset, midstream

There once was a guy whom Jennie had fallen for fast and hard
He didn't make the cut
Why not?
His name was Harold, same as Jennie's father
Why that made any difference, I have no clue
All I can tell you is what Mom told me
Ella took one look at this guy
Who'd made Jennie's heart throb with joy until
Her mother's facial expression declared—thumbs down
And Harold was toast
When Mom related that story to me, I asked, incredulously:
Are you telling me that you were crazy about this guy and
All it took to send him packing was Grandma's frown?
That's right, Mom replied.  That's all it took
But I never stopped longing for him
Gosh, Mom.  That's a problem!

Funny how blind I was to the fact that
My reactions to frowns had mimicked Mom's—
Or, now that I think about it, not funny, at all
Echoes of 'Gosh, Mom, that's a problem', ring in my ears ...

No rocking boats, Annie
Respond 'appropriately' to frowns or
You'll feel all alone, adrift at sea
No paddles or oars to be found
Too far from shore to get home on your own ... 

April 26,2014
So, I've been writing about grief, confusion and fear ...

The first time I experienced the overwhelming nature of
That triple threat to my sense of safety was
When Grandpa Yacob died, unexpectedly; I was two and a half
A child learns by mimicking terrified adult reactions

The second time I experienced this triple threat was
When terror struck home, two months later
My sister, Janet died, unexpectedly
A child learns by mimicking terrified adult reactions

Everyone experiences confusion and fear when struck with grief.  What I'm reconsidering, today, is the degree of trauma incurred by an undeveloped mind when two heart stopping, mind shattering earthquakes spin a little girl's world off its axis, eight weeks apart, and she can't process why every adult upon whom her survival depends is overwhelmed with personal crises.

Cause no frowns, Annie
Or you'll feel all alone, adrift at sea
No paddles or oars to be found
Too far from shore to get home on your own ..

Fall of 2002
My mom has been widowed just over a year
We are swaying, back and forth, side by side, on my patio swing:
Mom, who took care of me when Janet died?
I don't remember.  I think you were taken to Grandma Bailey's.
But Grandma Bailey was still in a state of shock over Grandpa's death ...
(Suggesting that when struck with fear, grief and confusion …
I feel alone ... Alone ... ALONE ...
Senseless, right?
Until I learn about subconscious thought patterns in need of reprocessing

I fear frowns
I rock no boats
Please return my smile
Please hold me close

When struck with fear and confusion
I feel terrified of crises ending in loss which
Looms too large to understand ...
Hmmm ... makes sense for this reason:

Mind sets are patterned thoughts, which imprint, early on
Patterned thoughts shape personality traits before the age of five
Patterned thoughts are habits
Habits are hard to break ... Working at it

If that was then
And this is now
Then what's in need of change when
Subconscious fear overwhelms my processor?

Guess I need, now, what I didn't get, then when
Every adult was too overwhelmed to recognize my terror
Reassurance and plenty of TLC
You're safe, Annie.  You're loved.  You're not in danger
You're not alone.  You're a good person.  Come in for a hug.

Thank goodness for writing till insight dawns
Thank goodness for EMDR
EM:  Eye movement (rearranging brain waves)
DR:  Desensitization (to trauma) Reprocessing

Thank goodness my therapist, who trains other therapists in EMDR, guides my thought processor to identify traumatized thought patterns, which threaten my sense of personal safety in a subconscious prison.

The soothing nature of EMDR therapy empowers my processor to carve out healthy channels of conscious thought, stored in a reprocessed file:

I do not hold myself accountable for the depth of my parents' grief
I shed undeserved guilt for my sister's death
I do not need to chase perfection to feel like a really good person
I feel worthwhile, worthy of receiving love
I feel deeply loved
I love openly and freely
I have developed my own voice
I can say no without fear of abandonment

Oh wait!  I think that's it!
The insight every other insight has been trying to ignite
I have stopped chasing perfection
I feel worthy of love and I have developed a voice
But that fear of saying no and being abandoned
Proves sticky to this day … for sound reason

As I gain insight into which
Traumatized thought pattern is still in need of reprocessing
The rapids inside my mind grow less turbulent
The river feels more peaceful
My boat has oars
I see the shore
I regain the power to
Row, row, row my boat home

An insight a day places fear in time out, repeatedly, until
Such time as strings of insights, brightening my self perception
Empower my thought processor
To sweep PTSD right out of my mind

You'll free yourself, Annie
Of that I have no fear
If not today
The sun will come out, tomorrow

PS
A warm hug to the first friend who embraced me in high school
The drapes are open, so I can welcome each brand new day

Friday, April 25, 2014

1000 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 40 No Chupah? No Schtupah 4

On the evening of their first proper date
Jack rings Jennie's bell
Ella rings Jack in
Jack leaps up the staircase
Jennie's mother opens the door and sizes him up
Jack smiles, introduces himself and follows Mrs. T into the apartment
Jack stops short at the line up standing before him, staring him down:
Jack, standing at attention, feels like a salute to the troops is in order
Jennie appears, greets Jack with a smile and then
With an air of reticence she introduces her date to the regiment:
Jack, this is Allen, Jerry, Mack and Larry—
All of whom are still staring him down
With respect for his safety, Jack's respect for Jennie doubles up
Jack and Jennie enjoy a great 'first' date
Does Jack try to kiss Jennie, good night?
I really don't know
Does Jennie accept a good night kiss?
Don't have a clue—but knowing my mom, my guess is—no :)



Thursday, April 24, 2014

999 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 39 No Chupah? No Schtupah 3

Circa 1941
Jennie and Jack have a wonderful time at dinner.
He's truly the nicest guy
She's truly the nicest gal
He hopes she'll see him, again
She hopes he'll call
Jack drives Jennie home
Jack parks the car in front of this great looking doll's apartment
Jack does not jump out, run around the car and open Jennie's door
Jack turns off the ignition, turns to Jennie, slips his arm around her shoulder and just as he's about to pull her into his embrace
She slips out of his grasp and opens her door

Hey!  What the heck!  After that dinner?

You didn't expect me to pay for dinner, did you?

Jack is not happy.
Jennie does not sell herself short.

It's 1941
Rule of thumb:  Women are considered good girls or bad
Jack, who does not give up, easily, gives up on getting 'any', tonight.
He really wants to see Jennie, again, so he smiles and says:
I'd like to take you out, again …
I'd like that, too
Jack figures:  All's well that ends well, she's worth it and—
There's always next time …

Jack has yet to meet the line up of brothers who await his arrival the first time he takes Jennie out on a proper date, and thus while standing in the foyer, ringing her bell, this hopeful young man is unaware ... and unaware suggests unprepared, because we can't prepare for that which we don't expect … 

April 23, 2014

I didn't expect a melt down of self protective walls, today.  I'd thought I'd safely sidestepped experiencing this melt down, which has left me feeling vulnerable, kind of raw.  I feel the way your home must 'feel' while tearing down walls during renovation.  The difference is this:  Your home shows wear and tear.  Your home shows what needs repair.  I can't see into my mind, but my mirror shows whether my eyes are spirited or glazed with pain, mental fatigue or both.  Then there's this fact of life:  An overworked brain runs out of gas.  What refuels the gas tank?  Rest, understanding, TLC, and three nourishing meals—lost five pounds.  No surface judgement calls, thank you.  I'm still in the middle of getting a handle on what's going on …

In the past, when I didn't have a clear view of renovation restructuring my thought processor, this sense of disorganized confusion caused anxiety to spike beyond my line of control.  With understanding comes logical thought.  It's important to note that during times of heightened mental disorganization anxiety is programmed to heighten in tandem.

Presently, my line of control feels overwhelmed by waves of grief too complex to understand, as of yet.  I feel more than loss.  I feel fearful.  When this sense of irreplacable loss combines with a think tank that's run out of gas, subconscious fear is empowered to emerge—thus this vulnerable feeling of danger closing in.  I go to Will:

Will, subconscious fear is on the prowl.
He knows what I need to hear:
'Don't worry, Annie, you're safe. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you.'
Exactly what I'd needed to hear from an adult when I was a terrified child …
When Will's not home, I take on that role, myself:
'You are no longer a child.  You've developed a voice.  Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names can never hurt me …'
I need to work on that, most especially when
I am made scapegoat for another person's pain

Thank God, I've come to understand this chain reaction.  Thank God I know that the last thing I need, today, is outside stimulation.  Reprocessing misperceptions and restructuring attitudes, swallowed whole during childhood, requires solitude, a tranquil environment and consistent TLC.  Thank goodness that describes my home, today, as well as my relationship with Will, whose patience and consistent TLC sustain me.

Remember my young friend, whom I'd met for lunch, several weeks back?  The one who's expecting her third child?  Well, we were to meet, today, and discuss solution seeking strategy in hopes of easing her family's morning routine by encouraging her five year old to learn to dress himself—cheerfully, instead of tearfully.

When this unexpected wave of vulnerability came over me and my mind flooded with exhaustion, I listened to my body and called my friend (who had taken my class).  'I'm so sorry to disappoint you—this is what I'm feeling … blah blah blah.'  'Go no further, Annie.  I understand, completely.  I actually felt kind of overwhelmed, today, myself.  Rest your mind.  Take good care of yourself.  Spend time with those who know your value.'

A friend, indeed!
And thus did my own words, recited during this class or that, echo through the phone wire into my welcoming ear.

I respond by thanking her for proving to be one of those who know my value.  Then, feeling a bit refreshed, I encourage her to rest.  'If you are feeling exhausted, today, your unborn child may be undergoing a growth spurt.  Perhaps most of your energy is directed inward.  If your husband pampered you during your first pregnancy—when he was awestruck by your carrying his child, please let him know that you need his TLC, even more, now that you're caring for number one and number two while carrying number three.'

She thanks me; I thank her and with a sigh of relief, I'll follow her advice, which matches my own:
Rest your mind—right after I finish this post …

Reader's Digest, August 2013 p39:
"Relax when you're stressed, your body's endocrine system releases cortisol, which can erase all sorts of memories …"

Recently, I asked my therapist:  Will I ever process through a re-patterning change toward personal gain without pain?
I received this reply:  Imagine iron ore transitioning to steel. Imagine iron melting into molten liquid as hot as lava before it cools down and absorbs properties of lasting strength, known as steel.  If, while enduring the intense pressure of this transformative process, that iron had nerve endings, I'll bet it would hurt, a lot!  This transformation that you're processing through takes courage.

At that, my counselor won my smile.
I think he was saying that upon making my way through this process of change for the better, I'll have nerves of steel.

Every now and then, at the end of a session, my therapist says:  Working with you is a pleasure.  Most usually, after I experience a break through.

Today, while feeling overwhelmed, I can still retrieve most of my files but, evidently, a significant portion of my mind—most likely, the part undergoing renovation, is in a state of flux, creating this anxious sense of disorganization, which is certainly in need of repair.  How do I know that to be true?  Just received a phone call from a friend:

Did you receive our wedding invitation?  We hope you can come.  I apologize, profusely.  Knowing how recently I'd lost my mom, he accepts my apology with warmth and grace.

Upon saying good bye, I hang up, walk into my kitchen and check out the counter where invitations in need of response are invariably placed—it's no where to be found—until I have reason to saunder into my bedroom where I spy that invitation relaxing on the couch.  Now, how in the world did it get there?  Oh yes!  That's where I'd placed a small stack of correspondence in need of attention during those days when Will and I were cooking up our Passover feast.

Though I'd walked right past that stack, several times, daily, every piece of correspondence had been overlooked for close to two weeks.  Why?  Chalk it up to reorganization processing through my present state my mind.  And to think, I'd placed it on my couch so I couldn't miss it!

Had we gone to dinner with you, recently—had you celebrated Passover at our house—had you not observed me, closely—you might have surmised that I was just fine.  Had you known me as well as some do but most don't, you'd have noticed that my smile, though sincere, does not brighten my eyes.

Originally, writing true tales about my loved ones—who have left this world—helped to maintain the defensive wall that held my sense of irretrivable loss an arm's length away.  Then, most likely, what I hear came true:  Celebrating holidays and special occasions prove difficult, especially during the first year.  And when being on my feet more than usual increased sciatic pain, which is an energy drain—well, that didn't help, either …

Perhaps my protective wall melted down when I turned the burner, under the pot of water in which the matzoh balls were about to be dropped, up to boil—perhaps over these past few weeks, all sense of protective walls have been slowly melting away, leaving mind, body and spirit feeling about as vulnerable as melt down can get—suggesting that our defense systems can push emotional pain away for only so long.  Somehow, suppressed pain, tightly coiled, always springs back—you know, like after surgery when the anesthetic wears off.

When suppressed pain of loss springs out of my depths, my think tank goes to work, figuring out which part of my belief system may be in need of consciously processing through renovation.  If you ask how I know when a renovation is complete, I'd reply:  My mind and body relax, and my smile glows from within. When my mind feels in line with reality, I'm really good at experiencing a natural high.  You know, like Jack—who'd proved to be an upbeat kind of guy, much more often than not…

Actually, I'm beginning to feel a bit more like myself … my ever-reprocessed self. And thank God for that!  The person I've been spending time with 24/7 has not been much fun, at all!

Riddle for today:
How does one know when loss is irretrievable or not?
Seems to me we each decide upon that answer for ourselves

My horoscope
There's no major conflict in your foreseeable future, except perhaps between warring factions of your belief system—gotta love it when my horoscope proves timely :)

So, of course yesterday's post was in need of restructuring and during that process, new insights emerged—Grrrr!

BTW if you wonder how I could write such a detailed account of my feelings at a time when my mental acuity proves overtaxed, well, in truth, the greater portion of this post was penned, yesterday, before the iron ore had melted into alphabet soup.

Wishing you a heart light as matzoh balls, a mind bright as sunshine, nerves of steel under fire and a five star day—because, after all, we can only live one day at a time.
Your friend,
Annie

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

998 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 38 No Chupah? No Schtupah 2

After spinning this beauty around the dance floor for a short while, Jack says:  You know what?  I'm hungry.  Let's grab a bite.

Jennie, taken-a-back:  Let's get a bite? Are you kidding?  I don't even know you!

Jack, with a winning smile:  Yes you do.  And you like me.  I can tell.  Come on.  I mean, what'd ya come for tonight if not to meet—me!

Jennie, laughing—reconsidering:  You're unbelievable!

Warm, charming, genuine:  I sure am!  So, whadya say?

Jennie's intuition kicks in.
He's right.  She came to meet a guy.
And so far, she likes everything she sees …
Of course, meeting a guy and leaving with a stranger are not the same thing …

Caution speaks:  I'd like you to meet my cousins.

Millie, Rozie, Ivy and Betty, this is Jack G
Jack G, I'd like you to meet Millie, Rozie, Ivy and Betty

Minutes later, Jack whisks Jennie into the passenger seat of his car and off they go.

Pulling into the parking lot of a burger joint, Jack glances at the woman sitting next to him and feeling as though he's struck gold, the happy young man turns off the ignition, jumps out, runs around the car and opens Jennie's door.

Jennie doesn't budge.  The serious expression on her face speaks to Jack.

What's wrong?  Com'on.  Big smile.

Jennie doesn't budge.  The serious expression on her face speaks to Jack.

Smile transitions to confusion:  What's up?  Don't you want to eat?

Jennie nods.

Jack remains confused until he thinks to ask:  You want to eat but not here?

Jennie nods.

Then where?

This wins Jennie's smile, and she speaks:  Just drive.

Scratching his head, Jack walks around the car, puts the pedal to the metal and drives until Jennie points and says:  How about there?

Jack parks in front of a nice restaurant.
Not an expensive restaurant but nice, none the less.
Jennie's no snob.
She's also no dummy  … 

Think several posts back …
Remember when I mentioned that being nice, quiet and observant doesn't equate with meek … :)

April 23,2014
We adopt, aquire, absorb attitudes about ourselves and others, first, from those in authority, early on.  Then later, if we focus more consciously, attitudes, swallowed whole, early on, may have sound reason to alter, intuitively.

Attitudes are habits that shape our thinking patterns in this way:
Attitudes arouse emotions of 'right or wrong'

Feeling something is right, lightens our thoughts, offering inner peace
Feeling something is wrong, darkens our thoughts, stimulating anxiety

Feeling something is right or wrong influences thought patterns
Thought patterns, programmed to influence behavior

Feeling something is right may be intuitive (natural) or learned (programmed).  Discerning one from the other is vital to personal growth

Feeling something is wrong catalyzes anxiety (fear)
Fear stimulates the defense system's 'fight, flee or freeze' reaction

Feeling something is wrong does not mean it is wrong

Feeling something is right (natural) and wrong (unacceptable)
Opens the mind's door to confusion, which stimulates anxiety and curiosity (an instinctive need to know more)

Curiosity can lead to an intuitive chain reaction so complex that
We can not fully visualize the bigger picture
Which, with cautious experimentation, will clarify, over time

Though curiosity killed the cat—I'm not a cat
I'm a person whose sense of caution matches
Her propensity to learn through curious experimentation, step by step

The only mind sets I can re-pattern (reorganize, restructure) are my own.  Before I can reorganize a mindset in hopes of embracing change for the better, I must consciously identify attitudes (rules of conduct), which run interference with personal growth.  This coming from a person who spent most of her adult life ensuring that she didn't rock any boats is quite a change, indeed.

Each time I have reason to reconsider an attitude, swallowed whole, during childhood, files, storing emotional reactions fly open (the body forgets nothing).  

If more than one file flies open, causing opposing emotions to clash, my think tank, feeling too overwhelmed to consider the bigger picture with a wide angled lens, may flood with static. Static breeds confusion, which left unresolved, catalyzes more anxiety than curiosity, which stimulates a flood of cortisol that heightens my survival instinct to fight, flee or freeze, thus overpowering my think tank, which, under those circumstances, is programmed to shut down ... unless my Line of Control has been patterned to run interference, tackle anxiety, allowing logic to run with the ball.

Do you ever wonder at my mind, seemingly, moving effortlessly (?) from one file to another while posting?  I mean, how did I go from patterned brain responses to sports???

Stream of consciousness may be likened to the way we spend a twenty-four hour day.  Let's look at one day, this week:  Awaken.  Reach for iPad.  Edit post from previous day.  Morning routine.  Computer time.  Story telling.  Errands.  Philosophizing with myself :)  Dinner with friends.  Fall asleep while watching T.V. With Will.  Bedtime routine.  Reach for iPad.  Subconscious restlessness.  Sleeplessness.  Repressed anger emerging.  Conscious anger transitioning to vulnerability.  (Childhood rule:  Anger at loved ones is unacceptable in thought or action.  Agreeing with family equates with love—I know, I know.  Loved ones needs come first—always???)  Vulnerability stimulates anxiety 'fight,freeze,flee'.  Insight into several files flying open.  Insight into which files are in need of adjustment. With clarity, anxiety lessens. Falling back to sleep.  Awakening.  Story telling.  Vulnerability still acting up.  Why?  Change for the better takes patience, time and effort.  Why?  Attitudes are habits.  Habits are hard to change for the better …  Who said self-discovery is easy?  Not me, that's for sure!

When several files fly open at once, multi-faceted compartmentalization gets messed up.  Sometimes that's apparent in my writing.  Though I may believe a post is ready to publish, upon rereading, I find certain thoughts too complex or incomplete.

Often times, I'm knee deep in another task or activity when an insight or thought comes to mind, so I stop what I'm doing in favor of attending to what I'm thinking, and when my brain whisks me back and forth across the time line, intuition is opening a door in my wall where two separate files correlate.  Then, if a third file opens, a pattern, of which I'd been unaware, may emerge clear as day.  When that's the case, here's what happens, next:

Once I recognize a pattern to which I'd been blind, confusion clears, and my connection to emotional intelligence is naturally enhanced in this way:  Bigger pictures allow me to identify self defeating patterns, suggesting that by way of self discovery, I come to know myself more deeply than before—and Socrates smiles.

Upon becoming less of a stranger to myself, my strengths, one of which is humility, consciously accept responsibility for my vulnerabilities.  Upon consciously accepting my vulnerabilities, I can work to create change for the better within me, and once again, my emotional intelligence is enhanced.

I wonder if you are mindful of those times when the multi-faceted aspects of your mind achieve those acrobatic feats, as well?  When you and I do not recognize thought patterns in need of expansion, certain aspects of logical thinking remain captive inside our heads.

BTW. Yesterday, I'd inadvertently left one detail, concerning empathy and anger incomplete.  How my thought processor made that mistake, I have no clue.  (See why re-examining our own thoughts is vital to clarity?)  Actually, this discovery exemplifies reconsideration, leading toward re-evaluation, culminating in restructuring my mind.  You'll find the revised text near the end of yesterday's post, written in italics.

Gosh—I sure do hope that my thoughts, imprinted into today's post, are not in need of readjustment after I push publish …

1941
Once Jack's appetite for dinner is satisfied, his appetite for dessert is aroused, so taking Jennie's hand in his while walking this sweet thing back to his car, he can't help but hope to get lucky—I mean, after all, she did let a stranger pick her up at a dance—right? :)

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

997 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 37 No Chupah? No Schtupah 1

Circa 1941
Finally, it is Saturday night.  A night made for fun.  And if anyone knows how to have fun, it's Jack.

Jack, the ever upbeat guy with twinkling blue eyes, pays his way into the dance, and upon entering the ballroom, he stands at the edge of the dance floor, tapping his foot, blond head turning this way and that, checking out the women, floating here and there in the arms of other men, until finally, the music stops.  Upon spying Jennie, Jack's head snaps at attention; his eyes stop roving and his legs begin to move, first around this couple, then around that one until he stands directly behind her.

When Jennie had first caught his eye, she'd been dancing, smiling up at a tall, dark, handsome guy.  By the time Jack had crossed the room, the guy, who'd left Jennie to fetch them both a glass of punch, had lost his prize to my father's good-looking, quick-witted charm.

Upon approaching Jennie from behind, Jack's tap on her shoulder makes the raven haired beauty spin around, and before she stops spinning, the band begins to play, signalling Jack to say—Hello Gorgeous, this is our dance—whereby he sweeps Jennie, with the soft brown eyes, full red lips, and lush curves into his embrace, where my mother, head spinning at this guy's audacity, can't help but laugh, and as my dad can certainly cut a rug, his eyes locks into hers, cementing the fact that their dance continues over the next sixty years :)

After spinning this beauty around the dance floor for a short while, Jack says:  You know what?  I'm hungry.  Let's grab a bite.

April 22, 2014
I tossed and turned last night
At first I didn't know why
Then anger emerged and insight hit:
Though I felt awful, reflection suggests that
I've been approaching change for the better
By processing through a painful stage of transition
(No pain no gain)
Remember my saying I take on the pain of others?
Remember my saying (several posts back) that
Recently, I'd listened to 
My best traits being disparaged aloud?
Well, though that saddened me, deeply
The strength of my Line Of Control has trained my brain to
Restrain my pain behind a self respecting wall
I mean, due to the circumstances, maintaining my dignity
While constraining my emotional reaction
Was right on the mark
On the other hand, containing my ire under fire
Does not equate with maintaining my cool, forever
And this insight points to the fact that
The lid, which my self disciplined mind had
Placed upon my growing sense of internal combustion
Had blown off, last night
And here's why that's a very good thing:
While lasting sadness is energy depleting
Justifiable anger proves as energizing as it's liberating
And my therapist has been encouraging me to break through
The empathetic wall that blinds my conscious mind from
Recognizing those times when I feel beholden to
Serve the needs of others while
Casting subconscious guilt upon
My desire to satisfy basic needs of my own, suggesting that
Undeserved guilt continues to hold
My 'sense of self' captive no matter how often
Intuition implores me to reconsider
A former state of mind that has not made sense for
Quite some time ...
And as I believe that all too often, logical thought
Is held captive behind walls of our own making
Perhaps you can see why I believe that
Grandma Bailey's intelligence was held captive
by dementia while
My anger was held captive by this subconscious belief:
I must take care to silence my voice if
That which I need to say wipes the smile off of a face I love
Thank goodness, my conscious mind
Came to place a high value upon
Gaining insight into self awareness, because
Having chosen this mindful path as my own
I continue to liberate more of my innate intelligence
With every self respecting step I take 
As to last night, the wall, erected at a time when
I'd needed to remain connected to my wits rather
Than to my ire, came down, and insight suggests
That last night's pain, which
Had been repressed over these past few weeks
Is running through me, freely, catalyzing 
My feeling more vulnerable than angry, today, and thus
In my present state of mind, it would be easy for
The misjudgments of others to hurt me, deeply until
Pain lessens in direct proportion to inner strength gained
And now that I've described this mental transition from pain to gain
Perhaps you can see why
Intuition has directed me to cocoon myself in solitude
Until the time is right for my voice to ring out with the truth
And if you ask what will make the time right, I'll reply
The time will be right when I can speak my truth, naturally, in
A compassionate (rather than an angry or empathetic) manner
Suggesting that I'll not bite off anyone else's head as
Had been done to mine at an exceptionally vulnerable time …
And I'll not mistakenly dump undeserved guilt on my own head, either
Once clarity, concerning both sides is mine
A balanced viewpoint, concerning the bigger picture, emerges in 3D
As to tomorrow—please tune in to see Jennie's self respect in action

Monday, April 21, 2014

996. THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 36 Boy Meets Girl

Monday, April 21, 2014
So yesterday, while finishing my morning grooming routine, insight emerged, as though all on it's own, suggesting my subconscious percolating away.  This insight identified a heavy weight that I was unaware of toting, day and night, since Mom was laid to rest with Dad.  Once recognition was mine, my mind brightened, and with a sudden wave of relief, tension relaxed and my spirit lightened—just like that.  Each time intuition suggests offering my conscious brain a much needed rest while trusting my subconscious to percolate on its own, this welcome chain of events is often the case :) 

Yesterday's insight concerns the way I'd trained my brain to churn out problem solving, sanity saving plans, on the spot.  Though generally, these plans meet with success, I came to identify one, in particular, which has not.  As this feeling of failure, which had plagued me subconsciously for quite some time, surfaced, I stopped holding myself responsible for inspiring change-for-the-better in my extended family.  Though still sad, concerning unresolved conflict, this sense of clarity freed my mind of failure, and with release, a renewed sense of peace unfurrowed my brow.

First thing I did was to find Will—sitting at the kitchen table, working away at a patient file as thick as a ream of printer paper, in preparation for an IME (independent medical evaluation for the industrial commision).  While waiting patiently for my husband's mind to transition from his work to my standing beside him, a conscious appreciation of the life we share filled my mind.

When Will looked up, my smile catalyzed his own.
'It's good to see you smiling, again.'
'I know.  That's why I came to find you.  To thank you for your patience.'
'Annie, I know when you need space.'
'When awareness is brewing, I need more than space—I need a cocoon.  It's like a renovation taking place inside my head.'
'No kidding.  You've been pretty spacey, most especially, this week.'
'Well, there's been a lot to consider, and it's good to know my energy's been focused on thoughts that prove productive. Once insight hit, that subconscious mindset of undeserved guilt, which I tend to lug around, from time to time, emerged.  Hopefully, today's awareness will re-energize my spirit.  Anyway, thanks for giving me the space I needed to figure out where I need to—grow.'

Once we'd sealed our good fortune with a kiss, Will turned back to his chart while I made my way to the fridge.  In hopes of offering my subconscious more time to percolate freely, I poured myself a glass of fresh grapefruit juice to enjoy on my swing while musing over whatever else might flow forth naturally from deep within my mind.

Though we were several weeks late in picking this year's crop of my father's favorite fruit, I'm enjoying the juice of that labor, right now.  About a gallon of delicious, fresh squeezed juice is in the fridge while two large baskets, one red, one white, gracing the center island in our kitchen, are piled high with bright yellow balls, their fragrance, stirred by ceiling fans, wafting through the air.

As springtime, a most beautiful season, offers a sense of renewal, I decided to appreciate all that is good with life.  So having poured a glassful of grapefruit juice over ice, I slid open my patio door, settled myself on my swing, gazed above my mountain, over the expanse of the azure blue sky and enjoyed a visit with loved ones beyond my reach—some of whom are very much alive …

As for today, I'd like to table yesterday's insight, which had empowered my conscious mind to blow away undeserved guilt (again!), in favor of focusing upon THE LOOK OF LOVE—Boy Meets Girl—for this reason:  One insight leads to many more, and I'm not sure how this newly expanded sense of awareness may inspire an old, troubling mindset to change for the better.

If you ask how I 'know' change-for-the-better is afoot, I'd reply:  Time and again, insight into negatively focused patterns of thought empowers my sense of self trust to strengthen.  In addition to that, I place my trust in the fact that my subconscious is hardwired to percolate on its own.  So while yesterday's insight simmers on a back burner, let's turn our attention to igniting the flame that drew my dad to my mother's side :)

Circa 1941
If you wonder at the fact that my beautiful, curvaceous mother (as well as her four cousins) had reached their late twenties, still single, well history suggests that during WWII most eligible bachelors had been shipped overseas.  In addition to that fact, Jennie had grown up observing the character traits of five men, first hand, meaning that intuition had factored into her decision-making process when it came to trusting a guy—or not. 

If you wonder why Jack had not enlisted to fight for his country, well, being a strong, strapping, patriotic, young man, he had—but did not pass the physical.  (I remember Dad saying that he'd walk down the street and shrink into himself at having received down-in-the-nose, judgemental glances from many who'd apparently wondered at his being stateside.)


At about the age of two, Jack, still in Poland at that time, came down with a case of smallpox.  Fortunately, he'd escaped scarring, except for one reminder, barely detectable on his forehead.  Unfortunately, the severity of his illness had left my father deaf in one ear.


Tonight, while the world is at war, two young people, who'd looked for love in all the right places, are about to attend a dance where they'll meet their match, at last :)