Let's enhance the last insight in Part 2 before we move forward:
While curled in the fetal position on the back seat of that accordion'd gold Cadillac, my strength of spirit willed the conscious portion of my mind to summon the courage to endure searing waves of abdominal pain, rivaling that which I’d experienced when laboring to give birth to each of my sons. Rather than worrying over my survival, my intuitive powers guided my processor to focus upon—and here comes the enhancement of the train of thought that occupied my mind while instinct curled my body self-protectively—Many will love my boys if I die, but no one I know has chosen to seek out the wealth of knowledge, which inspires me to raise all three to absorb a positively focused, self disciplined, step-by-step (evolutionary) approach to resolving conflicts effectively most especially during times when creative thinking is necessary to negotiate solutions that make sense to everyone involved. And as I’ve consciously chosen to adopt and role model this positively focused approach to problem-solving as my own, I work conscientiously toward heightening my current level of self awareness so as to strengthen my command over self control in hopes that, one day, each of my sons will emulate my attitudes and behaviors with such a responsible degree of consistency as to maintain an open-minded attitude toward their need to embrace personal growth as a means of achieving the ever heightening level of creative problem solving that they’ll have seen emanating from deep within their mother’s think tank most especially at times when inner conflict, maximizing my frustration, runs interference with my processor’s ability to problem solve with a balanced sense of clarity intact, which proves necessary if I am to resolve conflicts that are bound to arise with others in such an emotionally matured, well-grounded, logical manner of speaking and listening as to strengthen my connection to inner peace throughout every stage of my life. ((Whew!)
Though at the time of our accident the intuitive nature of my philosophy of parenting effectively had not yet developed to the heightened degree of conscious awareness described above, during recent years I've come to realize that my power of intuition is rarely out of step with reality while guiding my decision-maker to target a series of short-range goals, each of which leads me closer toward achieving a long range goal that’s not yet shaped up inside the conscious portion of my mind. So, all I knew full well at that earlier time was this: No one in my family and none of my friends had considered the mutual benefits reaped from making a conscious study of how best to discipline the naturally strong-willed, independent behavior which is classic of children in a manner that proves consistently calm, self-confident, positively focused and loving. And for sure, I'd not met anyone who'd thought to work consciously toward heightening his/her level of patience (which is an attitude and attitude is everything) in hopes of adopting—no, make that enriching—Mary Poppins' good natured approach to child rearing by blending dollops of humor in with logical consequences, thus removing the stinger from conflicts that are bound to arise between an autocratic parent and the innately independent mindset that’s true of children the world over. When an autocratic attitude pushes up against an independent spirit, power struggles, which prove painful for everyone, intensify, day by day.
In case you'd like to sample a home made consequence that worked like a charm by popping the stinger out of a power struggle when my sons were young, please place thinking caps upon your heads in readiness to absorb a brief summary of one of many Three-Step-Problem-Solving Plans conjured up within the creative center of my brain. (Each of these plans worked like a charm by calling forth the tag team of logical thought processing and creativity in hopes of inspiring the independent minds of my children to choose to cooperate with me. In this case, I was determined to encourage my children, who’d felt eager to swim in our pool, to train their brains to remove their clothing in their bedrooms rather than stripping and dropping their duds all over the family room floor. So without further ado, let's sample a THREE-STEP-PROBLEM-SOLVING PLAN (which served to minimize frustration, all around, so as to ease the development of cooperative attitudes when my sons were young)
Each plan consisted of a problem, a rule and a consequence that made sense. Rather than seeing myself as the authority in power, I saw myself as The Pied Piper.
Step 1: Pied Piper states:
We have a problem—ever since we built a pool, our family room has been cluttered with clothing.
Step 2: Pied Piper states:
We need a rule to solve this (repetitive) problem—clothing is removed in the bedroom before swimming
Step 3: Pied Piper states: We need a consequence that’s directly related to this problem whenever the rule is broken—If clothes are taken off in the wrong place then they will be put on, again, to train our brains to do it right in the first place. Just as Mommy and Daddy trained their brains to put on and take off clothes in the bedroom, it's time for you to train your brains, too. *(If, perchance one parent’s brain had not yet been trained to pick up after himself or herself, he or she will cheerfully choose to cooperate by paying the same consequence as the children. More about creating that mutually respectful, emotionally mature miracle at another time.)
If leadership feels stymied while conjuring up a mutually respectful consequence that’s directly related to solving the problem at hand then a family brainstorming discussion ensues (an example of that situation will appear somewhere down the road when I relate an effective solution, which much to my surprise, popped out of the mouth of babes—specifically, Steven’s mouth when he was three.)
If leadership is thwarted by Mommy or Daddy refusing to cooperate, that complication will be addressed in a post that expands upon this brief explanation of a three step plan, which, eventually, improved mutually respectful behaviors on the parts of everyone involved.
During our family meeting, concerning training our brains to undress in our bedrooms, The Pied Piper’s intuition aired this plan of action:
Anyone who drops his clothes in the family room in readiness to leap into our pool will pay this consequence—put clothes back on before dashing to your bedroom to take them off, again, so as to train your brains to cooperate before being rewarded with swimming. Anyone who choses not to cooperate delays swimming for everyone. As soon as all three children cooperate cheerfully, Mommy will take her turn, cooperating cheerfully, by placing her housework aside in favor of granting the children's wish to swim with her since safety dictates that little ones are not permitted to enter the locked pool area without adult supervision.
As the heat of summer saw all of my munchkins practicing with swim team before day camp, five mornings a week, they (including David, who'd begun to compete along with his preschool buddies at the tender age of three) wore swimsuits rather than undies, so all the boys had to do was to train their minds to habitually remove shorts and tees in their bedrooms OR if someone forgot then we'd all adhere consistently to our new rule of thumb: Shirts and shorts discarded in the wrong place will be put back on—not as a punishment but as a friendly reminder to remember to dash into their bedrooms so as to whip off their duds in the right place right from the get-go before scurrying back to the family room where Mommy awaits, patiently, to take her turn to cooperate by going to her bedroom, slipping out of her clothes and into her bikini, and as everyone in the family participated in learning to cooperate quickly and considerately, no one felt pushed, prodded, insulted, punished or left behind, which is why the creative nature of that non-punitive consequence proved more logical than an observer might have surmised, at first glance. And here's why that's true: As children felt as eager to cooperate (so as to swim) as did The Pied Piper (so as to see small fry training their brains to clean up after themselves), there was no need to reinforce this positively focused change in attitude more than twice, for this reason: Positive changes in attitudes precede positive changes in behaviors. And mutually advantageous behaviors, which prove cooperative, considerate and mutually respectful feel good, all around—especially when conflict resolution makes everyone feel like a winner.
You see, any consequence in need of repeating repetitively turns into a power struggle, pitting authority against youthful rebellion. Whoops! I just realized that the communication's instructor inside my mind, who sets a high value upon sharing the availability of effective child-rearing techniques (which tame power struggles before frustration overwhelms the creative and cooperative portions of everyone's brains) has usurped control over my story-teller. So additional details concerning how best to develop The Cooperation Game, which encourages every family member regardless of age to improve his/her attitudes and behaviors will be tabled until such time as all five communication tools, conjured up by my intuitive powers, pop up in a series of posts, some time down the road—
As for now, let’s refocus our attention on the life threatening head-on collision, which could have but did not ignite emotional explosions of mayhem that would have disrupted the natural course of my children’s development when they were quite young, suggesting that The Pied Piper had developed the self control to muster the courage necessary to face up to a seriously challenging time before I’d gained the insight to see that intuitive powers are divinely designed to skip two steps ahead of the conscious portion of our minds (Hmmm—perhaps that last insight answers why your brain's thought processor and mine tend to progress two steps forward, one back), and that flash of insight leads to this one: At the time of our accident, I'd not yet clued into my inner strength of determination, which would guide my mental development toward building and captaining a ship that would, one day, prove so steadfast and sturdy as to inspire my small passengers to choose to heed the well researched aspects of my lead most especially whenever our vessel so much as threatened to spring a leak or upon occasion, had need to spotlight an iceberg in the nick of time so as to work together to sail above or around emotional mayhem whenever life offered us reason to make our way through stormy waters in the dark of night as would a well-practiced crew so that upon landing on a distant sun kissed shore, everyone, having docked safely, together, would have experienced sound reason to rejoice over digesting and absorbing bite-sized portions of wisdom that prove necessary if everyone in a family is to work conscientiously toward training their brains to develop an inner line of self control so dependable as to set chaotic uprisings of emotionality aside in favor of reacting like members of a well trained team made up of unique, strong spirited individuals, each of whom (at his own pace) would strive to master a host of inner strengths (and communication tools) so as to revive our ability to thrive both individually and as a whole rather than viewing ourselves (or each other) as water logged survivors clinging to any life raft that drifts into sight, feeling so emotionally crippled by fate's fickle finger doling out experiences that proved so terrifying and heart wrenching as to misconceive of oneself as being perpetually in need of life affirming assistance, forever. (Whew!)
Noting that the complex string of insights penned above would remain undeveloped for many years, let's return to the simplified version of the insight, which (within moments of our accident) flashed through my conscious awareness, thus igniting my intuitive need to stabilize my will to live by compelling my whole mind to focus upon my maternal instinct, which was determined to raise my young with a heartfelt connection to well-researched knowledge by calling forth the inner strength of self control so as to quietly withstand heightening degrees of physical distress until wailing sirens, announcing the imminent arrival of patrol cars and paramedic firefighters, redirected my conscious awareness toward the terrifying, life-threatening situation at hand, and as muscled young men with crowbars in hand worked to pry open doors jammed on both sides of the car, I, laying tightly curled up while disciplining myself to bear the heightening intensity of abdominal pain, had no awareness whatsoever of traffic slowing to accommodate the gapers’ block that crawled past us until several days later when a dear friend, sitting next to my hospital bed, holding my hand, revealed that she, who had been in one of the last cars to pass us before police blocked off the street, had been craning her neck to get a better view of the tangled mess, which having mangled truck with auto saw my companion turn her head back to face her husband while exclaiming: I wouldn’t be surprised if the news, tonight, reports at least one fatality in that car (You see, while our friends were inching past us, a quintet of ambulances, packed with paramedics, were attempting to park as near to us and the unconscious drunk driver in the truck as possible while officers, who'd parked a duet of police cars in such a way as to block both sides of the thoroughfare, were busily detouring traffic with flares in hand toward side streets) ...
Seeing the unexpected nature of our predicament as a wake-up call, my friend and her husband considered our collision as a cue that none have a clue as to what trick of fate may lay in wait to pounce, directly ahead, so in short order, they booked their first adventure abroad—and sure enough— within a few years time, tables turned, showing me, wearing a trembling smile while sitting next to my friend's hospital bed, her hand held tenderly in mine,during the endless months that dragged on and on before her strength of spirit had depleted so severely as to have capitulated to the ovarian carcinoma that wore down her mindful determination to live to see another day until her innate desire to thrive was buried midway to old age—I'll never forget sparks of fury flaring forth from her reddened eyes (which being the windows to her soul, had freed the fires of frustration that had smoldered deep within her mind ever since her late diagnosis—we still can't find the source of your pain—had condemned her to death before her time) when she, gripping my hand as though my energy served as her life-line, gave voice to the fact that her oncologist had just left her room after suggesting she just—let go—"Let go of what?" asked my courageous friend, eyes flashing with so much anger as to have lashed out with—"How dare he think to tell me to give up on my life just so he doesn't have to witness the fact that he can't help me get well!" When, near the end, several friends, who'd gathered on a daily basis, had listened to one of us lamenting a bad hair day, our dying friend's dark sense of humor broke through the sudden build up of inner tension that was palpable to us all until her response catalyzed laughter to burst forth, all around—If I could have a bad hair day instead of a NO hair day that would make my day! At one point, when a nurse asked us to leave the room, momentarily, my bedridden friend said: "Let Annie stay." Why? Because intuition had guided my fingers to run gently up and down her arms or to massage the bottoms of her feet in hopes of offering what little I could do to calm the disconsolate, secreted depths of her emotional distress, which was rarely wore upon her sleeve. In truth, as hard as it was for me to walk down the hall of that rehab facility, where the walls were lined with wheel chairs in which ravaged bodies of all ages were seen, dispirited eyes staring vacantly at pretty much nothing new, day after day, due to illness or the severity of permanent disabilities in the aftermath of accidents, my natural reaction of deja vu had forced me to muster the courage to push beyond the heavy-heartedness that overwhelmed my spirit with thoughts of—there by the grace of God am I so fortunate as to leave this depressing place, go home and live my life so as to recharge my smile and 'be wholly present’ before sitting down next to my brown-eyed, strong minded, desperate-to-live, bedridden friend, who would succumb to that dread disease, which my parents' generation referred to as The Big C, before too many more days had passed. And to this very day, I miss the presence of her strong spirited friendship, which proved as natural to her character as was her fiery, red headed crowning glory. And now that the time machine, which we call memory, has carried my think tank and yours through sobering times of my life, offering us glimpses of fate's fickle finger snuffing out the life force of this one over that one, arousing thoughts of Elton John's candle in the wind, let's imagine the fiery force of Mother Nature sending my friend's undying spirit—which had been embodied within every beat of her strong willed heart for fifty-two short years—down to Earth, charged with reviving my strength of spirit, today, by imagining a red-headed force of nature perching on my shoulder, funneling words of eternal wisdom into my ear canal, which tunnels into my brain so as to inspire my conscious awareness to heed the insight-driven intuitive portion of my mind, which, holding hands with creativity envisions my friend's soul—embracing inner peace while relaxing on high until she, spying me wrestling with inner conflict as of late, chose to swoop down to pay me a visit so as to inspire my inner strengths to refortify my waining patience, which proves necessary to refuel my positively focused attitude to choose to embrace a step-by-step approach toward creative problem-solving as I did when my offspring were young and a series of three-step-solution-seeking plans saved my sanity whenever life's challenges frustrated the loving side of my nature as has been true over these past several weeks when my inner strengths have experienced sound reason to sag at half mast due to a series of situations that prove to be so dark as to be beyond my (retired) 'fixer's' personal control to change for the better on my own, and with that last insight spotlighting the heavy weight that my spirit has been lugging around, my conscious awareness, cleared of mental confusion, chooses to see my current state of frustration as fuel to renew my determination to take a firm hold of the flashlight, provided by my red-headed friend, so as to guide my mind toward developing a course of action that will clearly set my course toward seeking the light of a bright new day once I make my way through this darkly cloudy tunnel, which, having fogged up my think tank's connection to clarity, over recent weeks, saw my creative center feeling stuck so deep in the mud as to feel unable to conjure up a three step solution seeking plan that will serve to resuscitate my spirit’s flagging connection to inner peace once this current bout of repressed anger has reason to feel subdued. As for now, feeling deeply appreciative of my friend's timely visit, let's kiss her sweet cheek as she, intuiting my readiness to take a leap of faith, offers me a smiling thumbs up right before winging ever so high into the sky, which signals me to ask you to buckle up in readiness to throw the throttle of our time machine into reverse so as to refocus our mental concentration 'soully' upon events that took place in 1978, which may or may not show my spirit sinking or swimming toward a distant shore unlike the inevitability that the earth's gravitational pull shows the tide kissing the shore, day in and day out—whereas the tide is logically predictable, human emotionality is most certainly not ...
Back in the car, my tightly jammed door is pried open, freeing the severely shocked state of my brain to barely absorb murmurings reassuring me of being in capable hands; however upon feeling my body being pulled gently out of the car, I, remaining instinctively curled within a tensely defensive ball of self protection, hear these irrational words leave my lips—Pleeze—don’t touch me—after which all sense of conscious awareness faints, dead away …
(In case you think today's insight driven train of thought was all over the place, please hold your judgement at bay, because there’s method to my intuition's madness—)
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