Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Monday, February 29, 2016
1345 THOUGHTS EMERGE WHILE READING A MEMOIR
The title of this memoir, mentioned in previous posts, is
DON'T GO TO THE DOGS by Alexandra Fuller
While reading this memoir of a caucasian child, raised in war torn Africa, these thoughts flowed, word by word, out of the intuitive portion of my mind onto my computer screen, and once the entirety of my thoughts had been penned and read, There was doubt as to why I' felt compelled to pick up my stylus and record my heartfelt reactions to certain experiences, which being tragic in nature, this child's vulnerability had experienced. And while reading and then writing I gave thanks for my good fortune at having been raised by my parents in the United States.
This memoir, masterfully written, by Alexandra Fuller, drew me into her African childhood, where life commonly included fleas, ticks, intestinal worms, snakes, scorpions and terrifying attacks of physical violence perpetrated by mankind. At the age of five, children were assembling uzis and found themselves exposed to terrain, where land mines blew off limbs due to the fact that extremes of prejudice and privation separate human decency from unfathomable degrees of hatred.
In addition to the fact that BoBo and her older sister, Vanessa, grew up in a family that experienced the death of two innocent babies, Van had no adult who would listen with a compassionate ear, necessary to heal emotional wounds, which after being raped, had pierced so painfully deep into a young girl's psyche as to have severely wounded her self esteem.
At the vulnerable age of nine, Bobo's life is torn into two parts when she blames herself for her baby sister, Olivia's drowning, after which she watches her parents' eyes go blank, at which time her fun drunk mother dives ever more deeply into the black despair of loveless, griefstruck drunkedness, which, having lost two babies, can no longer muster the inner strength necessary to nurture the spirits of two surviving children, both of whom are in desperate need of attentive, affectionate parenting more than ever before; however neither mother nor father is capable of gathering this pair of utterly confounded, deeply despondent, competitive siblings under their wing, suggesting that anything resembling a compassionate, personally nurturing, safe haven of emotionally connected warmth, which healing demands, remains unavailable, and thus, as the harshest realities of their personal experiences prod four lives to move forward, each in his or her own state of personal ruin, better times seem to have been buried with Olivia, whose young life has been snuffed out by accidental drowning just as tragically as their baby boy's brief life had succumbed to illness beyond medical knowledge. And in the absence of compassionate, nurturing parenting, surviving youngsters, raised within this war torn environment, harbored undiagnosed, subconscious PTSD—as was also true of their parents.
If this family lived in the U.S., today, each person would find it possible to work toward healing from PTSD by way of partaking in EMDR therapy, though, sadly, it's also true that most people, who live in our nation, today, have no clue that this scientifically proven method of healing the mind from subconscious trauma exists, any more than most of today's doctors, other than cardiologists, have knowledge of Takotsubo, though it's been my good fortune to have been coached by a therapist, versed in EMDR, as well as the good fortune to have seen a cardiologist, who'd correctly diagnosed the heart episode that landed me in intensive care, last summer. (EMDR and TAKOTSUBO cardiomyopathy have been defined and explained in previous posts.)
The major difference between we, who strive forth with hopes that our young will thrive within a compassionate, knowledgable home environment and this deeply grieving family, who had need to focus solely on physical survival of the fittest, is this fact of life: Bobo's parents, whose minds had absorbed prejudicial attitudes, experienced countless reasons to build defensive walls that harden hearts to the psychological pain of others. When Van is raped, and her parents won't listen, Van learns not to listen ... or feel. At the age of nine, BoBo says: "If we are attacked and Mum and Dad are injured or killed, Vanessa and I will have to know how to defend ourselves (and kill). Mum and Dad and all our friends say, “Vanessa’s a Dozy Arab.” But I know that they are wrong. Mum and Dad say that Vanessa won’t be able to shoot a gun. They say that she’s too placid. They don’t know Vanessa. She’s not a Dozy Arab. She’s a Quiet-Waiting-Alert Arab. She’s an Angry Arab.”
When anger has no safe place to release, it turns in on its host and remains deeply repressed until the human spirit actually exhausts. Once deeply repressed, unexpressed, mental strife pins the spirit to the mat, the only symptom of internal despair that surfaces is the mental/emotional condition, which observers know as depression, when in fact, they are witnessing a person, like Vanessa, whose spirit has been at war with unidentified anger for so long that she (or he) has built a defensive wall, so layered as to have become impenetrable, suggesting why all feeling, concerning a traumatic experience is anesthetized to the point that the experience, may be completely blocked from conscious awareness. I know this to be true, because, fortunately, having found myself diagnosed with PTSD, fairly recently, I thank God for EMDR therapy, because otherwise, I, like Vanessa, may have unknowingly continued to repress the depth of my unidentified anger, which had suppressed my natural sense of joy behind the mask of emotional depression, which had, ultimately, overwhelmed my strength of spirit, once my psyche could no longer shoulder the anger that I could not feel, causing my spirit to exhaust and collapse, at long last.
As thankfully, my current therapist is versed in EMDR therapy, I was compassionately encouraged, session by session, to muster the courage necessary to revive, and thus, feel the re-emergence of fearsome fury that Mother Nature thought best to repress within my subconscious when tragedy stormed through my family when I, like Bobo, had been a child, who had blamed myself for my baby sister Janice's sudden death. Over time, sessions of EMDR freed my psyche, layer by layer, of undeserved guilt as well as latent anger and additional guilt, resulting from having submitted to sexual assault, until, little by little, session by session, my spirit's independent source of joy began to emerge from the inside out until my recovery from having harbored a life-time of buried pain, felt so well healed as to have freed my spirit's childlike ability to soar as joyfully high as had been true before my defense system had repressed my fear of having caused my sister's death so deeply within my subconscious as to have caused the natural strengths of my self assertive voice to grow as deeply silent as had my spirit depressed.
Once the tears fell like rain, I, like Van, had been admonished into believing myself over-reactive, when deeper truth suggests that the intuitive portion of my mind found ways to reveal the depth of my pain in hopes that a compassionate ear would aid my unidentified need to uncover insight into my buried past, and thus has intuition led me, over these many years, from one therapist to the next until my subconscious efforts to heal pain, which had festered, rawly, since childhood, brought my troubled mind to my present therapist, whose expertise in EMDR has graciously, patiently guided my conscious mind to excavate and exorcise layers of undeserved guilt, which had haunted each stage of my life until this therapist's knowledgable ear and compassionate voice offered my deeply confounded, wounded psyche a safe haven in which to repair itself and heal, thoroughly, at last (No wonder why I wrote: NEVER GIVE UP ON YOURSELF on the blackboard before commencing every communications class I'd ever led. Upon reflecting over my life, well lived, I 've grown aware of this fact: With every step forward, the teacher I grew to be shared every morsel of knowledge that I had need to consciously absorb to heal myself, with ears, attached to open minds, which proved as eager to heal from unexplored anger, as had mine. In short, I've spent my life mining my subconscious for deeply buried truths, treasured above gold).
Over these last forty years, I saw (and paid) many therapists, who could not fathom the depth of my anger, which had been buried so deeply behind my ready smile, as to have seemed invisible. Then, when, finally, my spirit collapsed, and being unable to revive, itself, my defense system's mask fell off, this therapist, being astutely trained in EMDR, offered my injured psyche the safe haven needed to expose the fear that my subconscious had secreted from my conscious mind, concerning two experiences, which had caused such a build up of undeserved guilt as to have sliced my childhood into three separate parts, as I'd experienced guilt over my sister's death and guilt over having been sexually abused.
Thank goodness, in the aftermath of Will's cancer surgery, yet another fear, which had need of courageous to surface to conscious awareness, poured forth on an ocean of tears, which had remained unshed since I was a three year old child, who, having deemed herself guilty of her baby sister's death believed she had need to redeem herself by sheltering everyone she met beneath the wavering strength of her own broken wing. And now, having come to understand why I've spent my life feeling compelled to nurse everyone I loved—extending to strangers, who seemed so emotionally unnourished as to have compelled my heart to bring them home—toward physical and emotional health, I've come to understand why I'd shouldered the belief that I was responsible for resolving every conflict that created family crises. So, thank God, I continued to seek professional help needed to relieve my psyche of two unidentified, guilty weights, which had become intertwined within my subconscious, and now that my mind is clear—concerning the emotional maze that I'd intuitively felt compelled to comprehend and make my way through—contradictions, concerning my personal vulnerabilities and strengths, which had confounded my sense of clarity, are readily understood. And as my sense of clarity has had more to learn, over these past two years, a third fear, which had terrified my sense of logic into submission, surfaced in the aftermath of Will's cancer crises. Today, with a deeply gratified sense of relief at having worked, intelligently and determinedly to know and embrace both sides of my psyche in depth, I'm truly enjoying reading about character development, again, as had been true before my mental energy had turned inward, questing to understand the sum of my character in depth.
When Van is raped by a family friend, and her parents won't listen, Van's defense system turns her anger inward until her conscious mind feels nothing and having blocked her own anger and pain, she learns not to listen, as well ... if you ask why the opposite happened for me ... Well, that's a whole other post to be penned on another day ...
P181
Quoting Bobo: "Vanessa and Bobo, "like all the kids over the age of five in our valley, have to learn how to load an FN rifle magazine, strip and clean all the guns in the house, and, ultimately, shoot-to-kill. If we are attacked and Mum and Dad are injured or killed, Vanessa and I will have to know how to defend ourselves. Mum and Dad and all our friends say, “Vanessa’s a Dozy Arab.” But I know that they are wrong. Mum and Dad say that Vanessa won’t be able to shoot a gun. They say that she’s too placid. They don’t know Vanessa. She’s not a Dozy Arab. She’s a Quiet-Waiting-Alert Arab. She’s an Angry Arab.”
My sons grew up with a role model, who never gave up working to identify and strengthen her vulnerabilities—thank God, intuitive thought directed my natural love for people to choose family communications as my profession. And because of early tragedy, and strengths absorbed from my parents within a loving home, I can give voice to this story of my personal quest to heal my psyche from undiagnoses PTSD, with parents, raising children, throughout today's world—79 countries and counting—by being drawn to my computer, where, I feel compelled to pen post after post for hours, each day ...
P 231
“My life is sliced in half ...
The first half is the happy years, before Olivia dies”my
Their Mom goes from fun drunk to dumb with drink
“Sometimes Mum and Dad are terrifying now. They don’t seem to see Vanessa and me in the back seat. Or they have forgotten that we are on the roof of the car, and they drive too fast under low thorn trees and the look on their faces is grim ..."
As agile, young minds are born with the innate potential to mimic, absorb and develop a host of inner strengths, role models would be wise to discuss the concept of teamwork with their offspring, concerning a family's ability to reconstruct a bright future, together, and that's most definitely true during each crises, which erupts in the aftermath of tragic circumstances, suggesting that even championship teams experience serious slumps, from time to time, and when that happens, it's up to a seasoned coach to model self disciplined inner strengths that rookies have need to absorb if they hope to become seasoned players, who move forward from one stage of development to the next.
I remember telling my kids that we were partners in life. That I was the partner with a well-grounded sense of experience while they were partners, whose imaginative powers took flight, and by working together, experience, coupled with imaginative thoughts would lead all of us toward enjoying success in countless endeavors. I remember suggesting that whenever an imaginative thinker, working on his own, made a mistake or crashed into a wall, the experienced partner could offer positively focused guidance (by making suggestions that would not deflate a child's spirited self confidence), and each time adult leadership's positive focus disarmed a child's defensive reaction, three rookies, who grew to adulthood under my protective (though wounded) wing felt more apt to listen and absorb common sense, concerning how best to modify whatever had run interference with the success of their personal plan ....
DON'T GO TO THE DOGS by Alexandra Fuller
While reading this memoir of a caucasian child, raised in war torn Africa, these thoughts flowed, word by word, out of the intuitive portion of my mind onto my computer screen, and once the entirety of my thoughts had been penned and read, There was doubt as to why I' felt compelled to pick up my stylus and record my heartfelt reactions to certain experiences, which being tragic in nature, this child's vulnerability had experienced. And while reading and then writing I gave thanks for my good fortune at having been raised by my parents in the United States.
This memoir, masterfully written, by Alexandra Fuller, drew me into her African childhood, where life commonly included fleas, ticks, intestinal worms, snakes, scorpions and terrifying attacks of physical violence perpetrated by mankind. At the age of five, children were assembling uzis and found themselves exposed to terrain, where land mines blew off limbs due to the fact that extremes of prejudice and privation separate human decency from unfathomable degrees of hatred.
In addition to the fact that BoBo and her older sister, Vanessa, grew up in a family that experienced the death of two innocent babies, Van had no adult who would listen with a compassionate ear, necessary to heal emotional wounds, which after being raped, had pierced so painfully deep into a young girl's psyche as to have severely wounded her self esteem.
At the vulnerable age of nine, Bobo's life is torn into two parts when she blames herself for her baby sister, Olivia's drowning, after which she watches her parents' eyes go blank, at which time her fun drunk mother dives ever more deeply into the black despair of loveless, griefstruck drunkedness, which, having lost two babies, can no longer muster the inner strength necessary to nurture the spirits of two surviving children, both of whom are in desperate need of attentive, affectionate parenting more than ever before; however neither mother nor father is capable of gathering this pair of utterly confounded, deeply despondent, competitive siblings under their wing, suggesting that anything resembling a compassionate, personally nurturing, safe haven of emotionally connected warmth, which healing demands, remains unavailable, and thus, as the harshest realities of their personal experiences prod four lives to move forward, each in his or her own state of personal ruin, better times seem to have been buried with Olivia, whose young life has been snuffed out by accidental drowning just as tragically as their baby boy's brief life had succumbed to illness beyond medical knowledge. And in the absence of compassionate, nurturing parenting, surviving youngsters, raised within this war torn environment, harbored undiagnosed, subconscious PTSD—as was also true of their parents.
If this family lived in the U.S., today, each person would find it possible to work toward healing from PTSD by way of partaking in EMDR therapy, though, sadly, it's also true that most people, who live in our nation, today, have no clue that this scientifically proven method of healing the mind from subconscious trauma exists, any more than most of today's doctors, other than cardiologists, have knowledge of Takotsubo, though it's been my good fortune to have been coached by a therapist, versed in EMDR, as well as the good fortune to have seen a cardiologist, who'd correctly diagnosed the heart episode that landed me in intensive care, last summer. (EMDR and TAKOTSUBO cardiomyopathy have been defined and explained in previous posts.)
The major difference between we, who strive forth with hopes that our young will thrive within a compassionate, knowledgable home environment and this deeply grieving family, who had need to focus solely on physical survival of the fittest, is this fact of life: Bobo's parents, whose minds had absorbed prejudicial attitudes, experienced countless reasons to build defensive walls that harden hearts to the psychological pain of others. When Van is raped, and her parents won't listen, Van learns not to listen ... or feel. At the age of nine, BoBo says: "If we are attacked and Mum and Dad are injured or killed, Vanessa and I will have to know how to defend ourselves (and kill). Mum and Dad and all our friends say, “Vanessa’s a Dozy Arab.” But I know that they are wrong. Mum and Dad say that Vanessa won’t be able to shoot a gun. They say that she’s too placid. They don’t know Vanessa. She’s not a Dozy Arab. She’s a Quiet-Waiting-Alert Arab. She’s an Angry Arab.”
When anger has no safe place to release, it turns in on its host and remains deeply repressed until the human spirit actually exhausts. Once deeply repressed, unexpressed, mental strife pins the spirit to the mat, the only symptom of internal despair that surfaces is the mental/emotional condition, which observers know as depression, when in fact, they are witnessing a person, like Vanessa, whose spirit has been at war with unidentified anger for so long that she (or he) has built a defensive wall, so layered as to have become impenetrable, suggesting why all feeling, concerning a traumatic experience is anesthetized to the point that the experience, may be completely blocked from conscious awareness. I know this to be true, because, fortunately, having found myself diagnosed with PTSD, fairly recently, I thank God for EMDR therapy, because otherwise, I, like Vanessa, may have unknowingly continued to repress the depth of my unidentified anger, which had suppressed my natural sense of joy behind the mask of emotional depression, which had, ultimately, overwhelmed my strength of spirit, once my psyche could no longer shoulder the anger that I could not feel, causing my spirit to exhaust and collapse, at long last.
As thankfully, my current therapist is versed in EMDR therapy, I was compassionately encouraged, session by session, to muster the courage necessary to revive, and thus, feel the re-emergence of fearsome fury that Mother Nature thought best to repress within my subconscious when tragedy stormed through my family when I, like Bobo, had been a child, who had blamed myself for my baby sister Janice's sudden death. Over time, sessions of EMDR freed my psyche, layer by layer, of undeserved guilt as well as latent anger and additional guilt, resulting from having submitted to sexual assault, until, little by little, session by session, my spirit's independent source of joy began to emerge from the inside out until my recovery from having harbored a life-time of buried pain, felt so well healed as to have freed my spirit's childlike ability to soar as joyfully high as had been true before my defense system had repressed my fear of having caused my sister's death so deeply within my subconscious as to have caused the natural strengths of my self assertive voice to grow as deeply silent as had my spirit depressed.
Once the tears fell like rain, I, like Van, had been admonished into believing myself over-reactive, when deeper truth suggests that the intuitive portion of my mind found ways to reveal the depth of my pain in hopes that a compassionate ear would aid my unidentified need to uncover insight into my buried past, and thus has intuition led me, over these many years, from one therapist to the next until my subconscious efforts to heal pain, which had festered, rawly, since childhood, brought my troubled mind to my present therapist, whose expertise in EMDR has graciously, patiently guided my conscious mind to excavate and exorcise layers of undeserved guilt, which had haunted each stage of my life until this therapist's knowledgable ear and compassionate voice offered my deeply confounded, wounded psyche a safe haven in which to repair itself and heal, thoroughly, at last (No wonder why I wrote: NEVER GIVE UP ON YOURSELF on the blackboard before commencing every communications class I'd ever led. Upon reflecting over my life, well lived, I 've grown aware of this fact: With every step forward, the teacher I grew to be shared every morsel of knowledge that I had need to consciously absorb to heal myself, with ears, attached to open minds, which proved as eager to heal from unexplored anger, as had mine. In short, I've spent my life mining my subconscious for deeply buried truths, treasured above gold).
Over these last forty years, I saw (and paid) many therapists, who could not fathom the depth of my anger, which had been buried so deeply behind my ready smile, as to have seemed invisible. Then, when, finally, my spirit collapsed, and being unable to revive, itself, my defense system's mask fell off, this therapist, being astutely trained in EMDR, offered my injured psyche the safe haven needed to expose the fear that my subconscious had secreted from my conscious mind, concerning two experiences, which had caused such a build up of undeserved guilt as to have sliced my childhood into three separate parts, as I'd experienced guilt over my sister's death and guilt over having been sexually abused.
Thank goodness, in the aftermath of Will's cancer surgery, yet another fear, which had need of courageous to surface to conscious awareness, poured forth on an ocean of tears, which had remained unshed since I was a three year old child, who, having deemed herself guilty of her baby sister's death believed she had need to redeem herself by sheltering everyone she met beneath the wavering strength of her own broken wing. And now, having come to understand why I've spent my life feeling compelled to nurse everyone I loved—extending to strangers, who seemed so emotionally unnourished as to have compelled my heart to bring them home—toward physical and emotional health, I've come to understand why I'd shouldered the belief that I was responsible for resolving every conflict that created family crises. So, thank God, I continued to seek professional help needed to relieve my psyche of two unidentified, guilty weights, which had become intertwined within my subconscious, and now that my mind is clear—concerning the emotional maze that I'd intuitively felt compelled to comprehend and make my way through—contradictions, concerning my personal vulnerabilities and strengths, which had confounded my sense of clarity, are readily understood. And as my sense of clarity has had more to learn, over these past two years, a third fear, which had terrified my sense of logic into submission, surfaced in the aftermath of Will's cancer crises. Today, with a deeply gratified sense of relief at having worked, intelligently and determinedly to know and embrace both sides of my psyche in depth, I'm truly enjoying reading about character development, again, as had been true before my mental energy had turned inward, questing to understand the sum of my character in depth.
When Van is raped by a family friend, and her parents won't listen, Van's defense system turns her anger inward until her conscious mind feels nothing and having blocked her own anger and pain, she learns not to listen, as well ... if you ask why the opposite happened for me ... Well, that's a whole other post to be penned on another day ...
P181
Quoting Bobo: "Vanessa and Bobo, "like all the kids over the age of five in our valley, have to learn how to load an FN rifle magazine, strip and clean all the guns in the house, and, ultimately, shoot-to-kill. If we are attacked and Mum and Dad are injured or killed, Vanessa and I will have to know how to defend ourselves. Mum and Dad and all our friends say, “Vanessa’s a Dozy Arab.” But I know that they are wrong. Mum and Dad say that Vanessa won’t be able to shoot a gun. They say that she’s too placid. They don’t know Vanessa. She’s not a Dozy Arab. She’s a Quiet-Waiting-Alert Arab. She’s an Angry Arab.”
My sons grew up with a role model, who never gave up working to identify and strengthen her vulnerabilities—thank God, intuitive thought directed my natural love for people to choose family communications as my profession. And because of early tragedy, and strengths absorbed from my parents within a loving home, I can give voice to this story of my personal quest to heal my psyche from undiagnoses PTSD, with parents, raising children, throughout today's world—79 countries and counting—by being drawn to my computer, where, I feel compelled to pen post after post for hours, each day ...
P 231
“My life is sliced in half ...
The first half is the happy years, before Olivia dies”my
Their Mom goes from fun drunk to dumb with drink
“Sometimes Mum and Dad are terrifying now. They don’t seem to see Vanessa and me in the back seat. Or they have forgotten that we are on the roof of the car, and they drive too fast under low thorn trees and the look on their faces is grim ..."
It is classic for a child, who has experienced reason to fear parental reactiveness, to replace a portion of self assertiveness with the silence, associated with undeserved guilt, and once a personal strength has been repressed (rather than suppressed) at a young age, we remain unaware of having lost a portion of our self confident voice, which can not be retrieved until reason for self trust overcomes inner conflict, based in latent guilt, which makes you believe yourself unworthy of love. In fact, if we fail to identify the original reason as to why buried guilt blocks us from doing or saying anything that might cause an over reactive parent to frown, we're likely to remain stuck in a guilt-ridden rut of our own making—forever ...
I remember telling my kids that we were partners in life. That I was the partner with a well-grounded sense of experience while they were partners, whose imaginative powers took flight, and by working together, experience, coupled with imaginative thoughts would lead all of us toward enjoying success in countless endeavors. I remember suggesting that whenever an imaginative thinker, working on his own, made a mistake or crashed into a wall, the experienced partner could offer positively focused guidance (by making suggestions that would not deflate a child's spirited self confidence), and each time adult leadership's positive focus disarmed a child's defensive reaction, three rookies, who grew to adulthood under my protective (though wounded) wing felt more apt to listen and absorb common sense, concerning how best to modify whatever had run interference with the success of their personal plan ....
Friday, February 26, 2016
1344 BATTER UP
This morning, our esteemed house guests packed up and moved to the home of a mutual friend, offering them an opportunity to extend their stay to two weeks, as previously planned, while offering me time to add a string of insights to post 1342, which proved intriguing to me for this reason: this string of insights, which are connected to all that came before, emerged from a subconscious brain space where my sixth sense runs deeper than conscious awareness can fathom ... However, before asking you to back track to consider these insights for yourself, I'd like to fill you in , right now, on thoughts that surfaced, yesterday, after Will and one house guest (from the Midwest) had driven off to meet one of our favorite snow birds (from the Northwest) at a pre-planned destination, where this trio of fast friends, since eighteen years of age, chose to approach the green by whacking away at little white balls while our remaining house guest and I planned to feast our eyes (windows into our souls) on a newly installed exhibit at the museum of modern art.
As to our fourth out-of-towner (who, along with her husband, plans to winter, here, till the end of March), she's chosen to do her own thing and thus, was last seen winging free as a lark with an unsung song in her heart toward a ski town, where fulfilling her heart's desire is sure to delight her spirit's pleasure center more than viewing art or playing golf—though her multi-dimensional mind fancies both of those pastimes, as well.
What I'm getting at is this: In order to feel younger than springtime for as long as her health complies, this expert skier is meeting friends, who plan to tackle black runs in Colorado till Tuesday rolls around ... and thus have we, six, grown up to thrive as unique individuals, who value the fact that we've each reaped the rewards of adopting an expanded comfort zone that has balanced our mutual need for togetherness with individualized needs, enjoyed, apart ...
BTW: If you choose to consider insights added to post 1342, you may note how often the word plan is underscored, highlighting the fact that even picnics come undone when plans to feed our spiritual hunger for personal pleasure have not been thought through as thoroughly as is true once a revision of the original plan offers mind, body and spirit reason to relax more completely than had been possible when inexperience had caused rookies to take three swings and strike out. With patience and practice, rookies, whose minds open to absorb experienced coaching, need not be benched ...
As for me, I wish to be whizzing down a mountain, today, alongside of my friend, but nerve pain, down my left leg, has prohibited me from partaking in that thrilling sport, for many a year ... and yet, to this very day, I continue to miss the sense of freedom, which had been mine, each time I leaped off the lift, adjusted my goggles and readied my whole self to enjoy an expansive view of my world from the apex of a mountain range, where, feeling momentarily freed of a life time of concerns, which had seemingly been left at home, I'd plug The Supremes into my ear, and while swishing, back and forth, down the run, in time to the music, I'd feel wholly joyful until it came time to pack up my gear and fly home, knowing that the next time a snow capped mountain beckoned to my pleasure center, I'd feel as eager to plan my next ski trip as had been true of my dear snow bird friend, who is most likely swishing down a black run, right now.
Then came the day when physical limitation transformed my spirit-thrilling plans to ski, year in and year out, into an impossible dream—forever. And, in addition to skiing—tennis, jitter bugging and cantering on horseback found themselves deposited into my memory bank, as well—suggesting why I can fathom how difficult it was for Will to trade in the head rush of basketball for the steadied swing of golf, several years back, when dashing down the court with the passion of an eighteen year old youth, he'd literally broken so many bones in his 65 year old body as to be left with no choice other than to drop out of the three-on-three league, where his teammates and opponents had proven to be at least twenty years younger than the athlete, which he no longer had the stamina to revive ...
And as I, too, have experienced the pain associated with denying my pleasure center a passion, which had been mine to enjoy whenever possible —I, who have sought to understand how often latent anxiety denies me other pleasures that thrill my senses, have worked to open my mind to choices, which at an earlier time in my life had felt impossible to embrace as my own, and as one string of insight into deeper truth led to another, my comprehension, concerning an intuitive need to work patiently and methodically toward mind expansion, inspired my intelligence to maintain the buoyancy of my spirit by enjoying time spent with Ravi or planning to share in a few pleasant hours with a dear friend, who, like me, enjoys feasting her eye on fine art. However, as delighted as my passion to drink in each of those very separate experiences feels, my pleasure center feels need to meet a dear friend in the park, where we feel free to muse over this or that to our hearts' content while circling serenely round a quiet pond, offering both minds such a permeating sense of inner peace as to inspire both spirits to seek out this healthy retreat, where individuals, who are on the same wave length, may indulge in a few hours of timely repose, thus nurturing feelings of younger than springtime, which, may be in need of rejuvenation, most especially at those times when, as we age, life's harshest realities make themselves known, with greater frequency than ever before ...
Insight for today: Tis wise not to confuse that which we cannot change for the better with that which our minds and hearts are capable of adjusting in a timely manner ...
And just as there's a time and place for everyone we love and every activity we enjoy ...
An open mind finds time and space to nurture every heart we love in deeply meaningful ways ...
And thus, with insight into deeper truth serving as my guide
Intuitive thought suggests that consciously developing
A well disciplined sense of balance is good for my spirit's soul...
And now, having offered my self assertive stream of consciousness
Free rein, more so than ever before
Je suis finis pour aujourd'hui :)
As to our fourth out-of-towner (who, along with her husband, plans to winter, here, till the end of March), she's chosen to do her own thing and thus, was last seen winging free as a lark with an unsung song in her heart toward a ski town, where fulfilling her heart's desire is sure to delight her spirit's pleasure center more than viewing art or playing golf—though her multi-dimensional mind fancies both of those pastimes, as well.
What I'm getting at is this: In order to feel younger than springtime for as long as her health complies, this expert skier is meeting friends, who plan to tackle black runs in Colorado till Tuesday rolls around ... and thus have we, six, grown up to thrive as unique individuals, who value the fact that we've each reaped the rewards of adopting an expanded comfort zone that has balanced our mutual need for togetherness with individualized needs, enjoyed, apart ...
BTW: If you choose to consider insights added to post 1342, you may note how often the word plan is underscored, highlighting the fact that even picnics come undone when plans to feed our spiritual hunger for personal pleasure have not been thought through as thoroughly as is true once a revision of the original plan offers mind, body and spirit reason to relax more completely than had been possible when inexperience had caused rookies to take three swings and strike out. With patience and practice, rookies, whose minds open to absorb experienced coaching, need not be benched ...
As for me, I wish to be whizzing down a mountain, today, alongside of my friend, but nerve pain, down my left leg, has prohibited me from partaking in that thrilling sport, for many a year ... and yet, to this very day, I continue to miss the sense of freedom, which had been mine, each time I leaped off the lift, adjusted my goggles and readied my whole self to enjoy an expansive view of my world from the apex of a mountain range, where, feeling momentarily freed of a life time of concerns, which had seemingly been left at home, I'd plug The Supremes into my ear, and while swishing, back and forth, down the run, in time to the music, I'd feel wholly joyful until it came time to pack up my gear and fly home, knowing that the next time a snow capped mountain beckoned to my pleasure center, I'd feel as eager to plan my next ski trip as had been true of my dear snow bird friend, who is most likely swishing down a black run, right now.
Then came the day when physical limitation transformed my spirit-thrilling plans to ski, year in and year out, into an impossible dream—forever. And, in addition to skiing—tennis, jitter bugging and cantering on horseback found themselves deposited into my memory bank, as well—suggesting why I can fathom how difficult it was for Will to trade in the head rush of basketball for the steadied swing of golf, several years back, when dashing down the court with the passion of an eighteen year old youth, he'd literally broken so many bones in his 65 year old body as to be left with no choice other than to drop out of the three-on-three league, where his teammates and opponents had proven to be at least twenty years younger than the athlete, which he no longer had the stamina to revive ...
And as I, too, have experienced the pain associated with denying my pleasure center a passion, which had been mine to enjoy whenever possible —I, who have sought to understand how often latent anxiety denies me other pleasures that thrill my senses, have worked to open my mind to choices, which at an earlier time in my life had felt impossible to embrace as my own, and as one string of insight into deeper truth led to another, my comprehension, concerning an intuitive need to work patiently and methodically toward mind expansion, inspired my intelligence to maintain the buoyancy of my spirit by enjoying time spent with Ravi or planning to share in a few pleasant hours with a dear friend, who, like me, enjoys feasting her eye on fine art. However, as delighted as my passion to drink in each of those very separate experiences feels, my pleasure center feels need to meet a dear friend in the park, where we feel free to muse over this or that to our hearts' content while circling serenely round a quiet pond, offering both minds such a permeating sense of inner peace as to inspire both spirits to seek out this healthy retreat, where individuals, who are on the same wave length, may indulge in a few hours of timely repose, thus nurturing feelings of younger than springtime, which, may be in need of rejuvenation, most especially at those times when, as we age, life's harshest realities make themselves known, with greater frequency than ever before ...
Insight for today: Tis wise not to confuse that which we cannot change for the better with that which our minds and hearts are capable of adjusting in a timely manner ...
And just as there's a time and place for everyone we love and every activity we enjoy ...
An open mind finds time and space to nurture every heart we love in deeply meaningful ways ...
And thus, with insight into deeper truth serving as my guide
Intuitive thought suggests that consciously developing
A well disciplined sense of balance is good for my spirit's soul...
And now, having offered my self assertive stream of consciousness
Free rein, more so than ever before
Je suis finis pour aujourd'hui :)
Thursday, February 25, 2016
1343 HAPPY HEART
Guess whose smile awakened mine, this morning?
Guess who has not even one moment to write?
Guess who has not even one moment to write?
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
1342 TIMELY INSIGHT INSPIRES SPIRITS TO SMILE
This morning, over coffee, one of our guests (from the midwest) asked what makes me so vigilant about connecting (intimately, thus meaningfully) with everyone I love. Without hesitation, I replied:
Photo taken about ten years ago in Istanbul with our current house guests
(In addition to being our travel companions for these past twenty years
Mr. Mustache doubled with us when Will escorted me to my senior prom)
)
See our snow birds in the middle; couple on the right plan to
Pleasure us as house guests in two weeks (after David flies in and out)
Every bit as animated, today, as when we'd enjoyed each other, fifty years back
Our snow bird friend of fifty-five years (also pictured, above)
A Pair of friends, who have tickled each other's
Funny bones over these past fifty-five years
(Sadly, his wife, one of my closest friends since college
Succumbed to a brain tumor, four years ago, last month ...
Not All friends, over these past fifty-five years, take up golf
(Though the photo is fuzzy, the affection is clear)
Below, behold my forever friends from high school and college days, married to
The guys, pictured above—all of whom chose to fly in from several states
Thirteen years back, adding to the celebratory spirit, permeating
Celina and Steven's wedding—from the left:
First, we see my dear high school friend, who is standing next to
My treasured college friend (who, along with her husband
Plan to be our house guests after David flies in and out )...
Next, you see my friend, who has been deeply missed over these past four years, and
To my right is our snow bird friend, who (along with her husband, pictured with
Will, golf club in hand) has chosen to feather a nest in the desert for
Three winter months, and last but not least, we see
My dear traveling companion, who, having appeared in the first photo, taken in Istanbul
Brings us full circle, concerning this winter's house guests, who plan to unpack and lap up
As many sunny days as their busy calendars (and ours) permit ...
As for now, I don't want to be late for a standing appointment—you see, with house guests coming and going through our revolving door, year after year—we've all come to this understanding: Though flexibility is key to peace of mind, much of Will's daily routine and mine remains unchanged—why? Because it's become clear to one and all that adopting this all-inclusive plan has been founded in common sense. And thus does each person, who flies in to nest with us, feel free to nourish his or her personal comfort level by accepting the fact that all groups (who flock together as do birds of a feather) are made up of individuals, each of whom harbors needs, which differ from one another, suggesting that whether we're enjoying time winging together or apart, our spirit of friendship continues to thrive in an unruffled state, year in and year out ...
Now that we're in our seventies, reality suggests acknowledging the fact that more of our loved ones have begun to struggle with illnesses that medical science is not yet empowered to heal. Sadly, Will and I have two memorial services to attend this week. So, as long as many of us are still favored with good health, making traveling possible, I plan to nourish my spirit by enjoying my golden years, basking in the company of those I love most, both near and far.
(Then, feeling pensive, my voice grew quiet as intuitive thought offered my heart-mind connection reason to absorb this next string of insights more deeply than ever before: For the most part, I've found that while offering love, openly, thus naturally (at times, even lavishly), nourishes my spirit, the source of this well-spring of love seems to rejuvenate the spirits of each recipient, whose intuition 'knows', without a shadow of doubt, that my attentiveness has not one iota of artificiality, because the depth of my ability to shower a person with love proves so free of defensiveness as to ensure that whatever I choose to say and do flows freely, straight from my heart. And here's how I know that insight is true: Ever since my need to deepen my quest for self awareness emerged from within, my mind-heart connection has had sound reason to strengthen. And guess what happens each time intuitive thought suggests the time is ripe to take another courageous leap of faith past anxiety, based in defensive fears, which had limited my choices? Eventually, I reap just rewards, which, 'intuitive truth' had 'known' to be mine to enjoy, all along. And with generosity of spirit leading the way, loved ones partake in these same rewards, because magically, the well of true love, flowing freely back and forth, never runs dry.)
While the latter portion of that insight, concerning reality, offered my mind reason to focus in on the positive, a seriously pensive expression had settled heavily on my treasured friend's face, and as she and her daughter had both experienced frightening battles with cancer, as recently as had Will ... I'd hoped to lighten the fact that we can't know when sudden illness or irretrievable loss may call our names by saying: Thank God, we're still here! If ever the time was ripe for each of us to make the most of the present, it's now. Then, with thoughts of having spent time in intensive care, thrice, myself, my voice resumed speaking aloud: Let's not allow dark clouds of fear to overshadow life's gift of good fortune, which offers us time to enjoy good health and each other's company, neath today's sunny, blue skies. With that, I watched my friend's spirit re-energize, and as her smile reconnected, naturally, with mine, suggesting our being on the same wave length, again, our smiles reflected the heartfelt spontaneity of each other's warm hug.
If 'attitude is everything' then you can see why I feel thankful for each moment when intuitive thought guides my smarts to adopt a positively focused viewpoint, concerning life's most heart-piercing realities, and knowing, full well, that the development of this change for the better, concerning my attitude, demands patience on the part of my conscious mind, I'll choose to concentrate my focus on identifying and accepting the positive features of aging, because this conscious adjustment in my attitude proves to be a step by step process, suggesting my need to develop a determined state of mind until change for the better has been thoroughly absorbed within my newly expanded frame of mind.
Next thing we knew, a lively discussion ensued, concerning the European river trip that we felt eager to plan, along with a third couple, dear friends, also from college days, with whom Will and I have enjoyed lots of time over these past several weeks, because I'm referencing the pair of snowbirds from Washington state, whom we'd happily fetched from the airport on New Year's Day. And lucky for us, this treasured couple have fallen in love with wintering not too far from our home, suggesting why a contract, duplicating this year's plan, has been signed, noting their decision to winter, here, from January through March of 2017. Hooray!
See why I say that we, who age with good health, financial security and positively focused attitudes intact, find ourselves blessed with freedoms, which youth (working industriously to earn their keep), can only dream of enjoying after decades of birthdays add up ... And with that thought in mind, concerning the necessity of listening attentively for those times when a flash of intuitive thought shines the bright light of insight upon an open-minded plan that will better your personal lot in life as well as mine, here's my compensation for having blown out more birthday candles than I can believe: Each time insight highlights another cloudy aspect of negatively focused clutter, hiding within a subconscious pocket in my mind, my new sense of clarity chooses to replace self imposed limits (based in undeserved guilt, left unresolved since childhood), with an open-minded and thus expanding sense of freedom, which offers my sunny nature reason to reconsider a host of personal, unmet needs with a newly brightened sense of self respect, and as this enhanced sense of self respect tends to spark attentiveness to creative thought, guess what my intuitive thought process envisions next? The simplicity (or revision) of a plan that satisfies a long-lasting unmet need, and each time I think to disarm my latent (childhood) fear of disappointing those I love, the assertive stance of my sixth sense gives voice to the fact that my self respect for the adult, whom the wounded child has grown to be, has had sound reason to strengthen, again.
Each time my faith in revising a flawed plan meets with success, my smile has sound reason to sparkle ever more deeply from inside out, suggesting why recent decisions, which had once aroused anxiety (based in inner conflict, resultant of self doubt), have come to feel beyond reproach, so ... every time a flash of intuitive insight lightens a sense of heaviness that I'd unknowingly lugged around, subconsciously, since childhood, my adult intelligence feels free to embrace yet another opportunity to grow practiced at replacing the pain of closed-minded, inner conflict with a rebalanced sense of adopting an open minded attitude, which frees my creative juices to produce a positively focused change. And once positive focus is mine, intuitive thought guides my conscious mind to seek insight until each next missing piece of the puzzle, concerning my long-lost sense of inner peace is exposed. And each time another lost piece of inner peace has been rightfully reclaimed, guess what enjoys a relaxing sense of repose (more thoroughly than had been possible when defensive denial had blinded my awareness from clearly seeing the bigger picture of the whole/some adult, whom the wounded child has chosen to grow up to be)? My soul.
As you've watched me soul searching, over these past several years (in hopes of knowing myself well enough to heal those wounded portions of self esteem, which had caused negative focus to turn in on myself, during childhood), I believe you can understand why my heart over flows with gratitude each time the sum of my personal strengths has sound reason to say: Amen to the emergence of each inter-related string of insights, which proves personally enriching whenever my attentiveness to intuitive thought releases a stream of consciousness that serves to shine the bright light of insight upon how best to improve my current state of being once another negatively focused attitude, buried within a subconscious pocket of my psyche since childhood, has been identified and exorcized.
Thank goodness, I've come to understand that each negative attitude (left in its unidentified state, unconsciously feeds my sense of inner conflict, today.
Thank goodness, my sixth sense guided my conscious mind to comprehend which experiences had catalyzed my struggle with hyper-vigilance, born of anxiety, due to self doubt, concerning my fear of disappointing those I love.
Thank goodness, I've reclaimed the portion of my self-assertive voice, which, eons ago, self doubt had swallowed, whole.
Thank goodness, sudden spikes of anxiety have been disempowered by my sense of clarity, concerning one thing leading to the next—suggesting that self doubt has lost its power to disrupt my think tank's ability to seek solutions at times when intelligent thought must subdue subconscious fear, which had refused to unchain my heart, no matter how often intuitive thought prodded my conscious mind to wholly embrace a deeply deserved sense of freedom to rejoice when my decision-making process chooses to satisfy a uniquely personal, unmet need ... and as the learning curve never comes full circle, I have opened my mind to oxygenating each next adventure into the great unknown by accepting this fact of life well lived: There will be times when my struggle with self doubt will arise, so it's good to know that I shoulder much more in the way of personal strengths, today, than subconscious burden, which having weighed heavily on my mind, caused my spirit to flag at half mast—Whew! Oh—wait ... what's that I hear? Dear friends are stirring, suggesting my posting this re-edit without checking for errors until sometime later, if not today, then tomorrow ...
(Then, feeling pensive, my voice grew quiet as intuitive thought offered my heart-mind connection reason to absorb this next string of insights more deeply than ever before: For the most part, I've found that while offering love, openly, thus naturally (at times, even lavishly), nourishes my spirit, the source of this well-spring of love seems to rejuvenate the spirits of each recipient, whose intuition 'knows', without a shadow of doubt, that my attentiveness has not one iota of artificiality, because the depth of my ability to shower a person with love proves so free of defensiveness as to ensure that whatever I choose to say and do flows freely, straight from my heart. And here's how I know that insight is true: Ever since my need to deepen my quest for self awareness emerged from within, my mind-heart connection has had sound reason to strengthen. And guess what happens each time intuitive thought suggests the time is ripe to take another courageous leap of faith past anxiety, based in defensive fears, which had limited my choices? Eventually, I reap just rewards, which, 'intuitive truth' had 'known' to be mine to enjoy, all along. And with generosity of spirit leading the way, loved ones partake in these same rewards, because magically, the well of true love, flowing freely back and forth, never runs dry.)
While the latter portion of that insight, concerning reality, offered my mind reason to focus in on the positive, a seriously pensive expression had settled heavily on my treasured friend's face, and as she and her daughter had both experienced frightening battles with cancer, as recently as had Will ... I'd hoped to lighten the fact that we can't know when sudden illness or irretrievable loss may call our names by saying: Thank God, we're still here! If ever the time was ripe for each of us to make the most of the present, it's now. Then, with thoughts of having spent time in intensive care, thrice, myself, my voice resumed speaking aloud: Let's not allow dark clouds of fear to overshadow life's gift of good fortune, which offers us time to enjoy good health and each other's company, neath today's sunny, blue skies. With that, I watched my friend's spirit re-energize, and as her smile reconnected, naturally, with mine, suggesting our being on the same wave length, again, our smiles reflected the heartfelt spontaneity of each other's warm hug.
If 'attitude is everything' then you can see why I feel thankful for each moment when intuitive thought guides my smarts to adopt a positively focused viewpoint, concerning life's most heart-piercing realities, and knowing, full well, that the development of this change for the better, concerning my attitude, demands patience on the part of my conscious mind, I'll choose to concentrate my focus on identifying and accepting the positive features of aging, because this conscious adjustment in my attitude proves to be a step by step process, suggesting my need to develop a determined state of mind until change for the better has been thoroughly absorbed within my newly expanded frame of mind.
Next thing we knew, a lively discussion ensued, concerning the European river trip that we felt eager to plan, along with a third couple, dear friends, also from college days, with whom Will and I have enjoyed lots of time over these past several weeks, because I'm referencing the pair of snowbirds from Washington state, whom we'd happily fetched from the airport on New Year's Day. And lucky for us, this treasured couple have fallen in love with wintering not too far from our home, suggesting why a contract, duplicating this year's plan, has been signed, noting their decision to winter, here, from January through March of 2017. Hooray!
See why I say that we, who age with good health, financial security and positively focused attitudes intact, find ourselves blessed with freedoms, which youth (working industriously to earn their keep), can only dream of enjoying after decades of birthdays add up ... And with that thought in mind, concerning the necessity of listening attentively for those times when a flash of intuitive thought shines the bright light of insight upon an open-minded plan that will better your personal lot in life as well as mine, here's my compensation for having blown out more birthday candles than I can believe: Each time insight highlights another cloudy aspect of negatively focused clutter, hiding within a subconscious pocket in my mind, my new sense of clarity chooses to replace self imposed limits (based in undeserved guilt, left unresolved since childhood), with an open-minded and thus expanding sense of freedom, which offers my sunny nature reason to reconsider a host of personal, unmet needs with a newly brightened sense of self respect, and as this enhanced sense of self respect tends to spark attentiveness to creative thought, guess what my intuitive thought process envisions next? The simplicity (or revision) of a plan that satisfies a long-lasting unmet need, and each time I think to disarm my latent (childhood) fear of disappointing those I love, the assertive stance of my sixth sense gives voice to the fact that my self respect for the adult, whom the wounded child has grown to be, has had sound reason to strengthen, again.
Each time my faith in revising a flawed plan meets with success, my smile has sound reason to sparkle ever more deeply from inside out, suggesting why recent decisions, which had once aroused anxiety (based in inner conflict, resultant of self doubt), have come to feel beyond reproach, so ... every time a flash of intuitive insight lightens a sense of heaviness that I'd unknowingly lugged around, subconsciously, since childhood, my adult intelligence feels free to embrace yet another opportunity to grow practiced at replacing the pain of closed-minded, inner conflict with a rebalanced sense of adopting an open minded attitude, which frees my creative juices to produce a positively focused change. And once positive focus is mine, intuitive thought guides my conscious mind to seek insight until each next missing piece of the puzzle, concerning my long-lost sense of inner peace is exposed. And each time another lost piece of inner peace has been rightfully reclaimed, guess what enjoys a relaxing sense of repose (more thoroughly than had been possible when defensive denial had blinded my awareness from clearly seeing the bigger picture of the whole/some adult, whom the wounded child has chosen to grow up to be)? My soul.
As you've watched me soul searching, over these past several years (in hopes of knowing myself well enough to heal those wounded portions of self esteem, which had caused negative focus to turn in on myself, during childhood), I believe you can understand why my heart over flows with gratitude each time the sum of my personal strengths has sound reason to say: Amen to the emergence of each inter-related string of insights, which proves personally enriching whenever my attentiveness to intuitive thought releases a stream of consciousness that serves to shine the bright light of insight upon how best to improve my current state of being once another negatively focused attitude, buried within a subconscious pocket of my psyche since childhood, has been identified and exorcized.
Thank goodness, I've come to understand that each negative attitude (left in its unidentified state, unconsciously feeds my sense of inner conflict, today.
Thank goodness, my sixth sense guided my conscious mind to comprehend which experiences had catalyzed my struggle with hyper-vigilance, born of anxiety, due to self doubt, concerning my fear of disappointing those I love.
Thank goodness, I've reclaimed the portion of my self-assertive voice, which, eons ago, self doubt had swallowed, whole.
Thank goodness, sudden spikes of anxiety have been disempowered by my sense of clarity, concerning one thing leading to the next—suggesting that self doubt has lost its power to disrupt my think tank's ability to seek solutions at times when intelligent thought must subdue subconscious fear, which had refused to unchain my heart, no matter how often intuitive thought prodded my conscious mind to wholly embrace a deeply deserved sense of freedom to rejoice when my decision-making process chooses to satisfy a uniquely personal, unmet need ... and as the learning curve never comes full circle, I have opened my mind to oxygenating each next adventure into the great unknown by accepting this fact of life well lived: There will be times when my struggle with self doubt will arise, so it's good to know that I shoulder much more in the way of personal strengths, today, than subconscious burden, which having weighed heavily on my mind, caused my spirit to flag at half mast—Whew! Oh—wait ... what's that I hear? Dear friends are stirring, suggesting my posting this re-edit without checking for errors until sometime later, if not today, then tomorrow ...
... So—here it is—a bit later, when, unexpectedly, time to enjoy your company opened up.
However, rather than editing, I feel like voicing an appreciative sense of my good fortune, because guess who just Face-timed her gramma (with 'help' from her doting daddy)? Yep ... Ravi. Steven says that if Ravi had magically developed the power of speech, over night, she'd ask to sleep at Gramma's, tonight, because at the crack of dawn, tomorrow morning, a construction crew plans to execute some exceptionally noisy work on their backyard pool, which is adjacent to her bedroom window. And as my grand daughter's smiling face spoke through my son's ability to speak, needless to say, my pleasure center laughed aloud as I replied: Of course, you can sleep over, Ravi! Then, as our conversation flowed on, I voiced the fact that our house guests have plans, this evening, with yet another couple, so Will and I plan to double tonight's surprising pleasure by meeting Celina, Steven and Ravi for dinner at a nearby restaurant, which, being owned by our neighbor, feels like our very own, personal Cheers. And thus, once again, does my spirit delight in tonight's unexpected opportunity to blend a brand new love with love that's had reason to thrive, year after year, suggesting why I feel deeply blessed, each time my heightened sense of awareness considers this fact: We who have conscientiously nourished the art of loving, openly, expansively and inclusively (rather than fearfully and defensively, thus exclusively) nurture attitudes, which buoy each other's spirits, and though tis true that as we age, birthdays roll in faster than can be believed, my viewpoints continue to feel, as open minded and youthfully technicolored as springtime—unless a play date with Ravi extends for more than two days in a row, after which my body's energy level, stretched beyond today's natural limits, insists on napping as often as when this gramma had truly been a very sleepy babe in arms.
However, rather than editing, I feel like voicing an appreciative sense of my good fortune, because guess who just Face-timed her gramma (with 'help' from her doting daddy)? Yep ... Ravi. Steven says that if Ravi had magically developed the power of speech, over night, she'd ask to sleep at Gramma's, tonight, because at the crack of dawn, tomorrow morning, a construction crew plans to execute some exceptionally noisy work on their backyard pool, which is adjacent to her bedroom window. And as my grand daughter's smiling face spoke through my son's ability to speak, needless to say, my pleasure center laughed aloud as I replied: Of course, you can sleep over, Ravi! Then, as our conversation flowed on, I voiced the fact that our house guests have plans, this evening, with yet another couple, so Will and I plan to double tonight's surprising pleasure by meeting Celina, Steven and Ravi for dinner at a nearby restaurant, which, being owned by our neighbor, feels like our very own, personal Cheers. And thus, once again, does my spirit delight in tonight's unexpected opportunity to blend a brand new love with love that's had reason to thrive, year after year, suggesting why I feel deeply blessed, each time my heightened sense of awareness considers this fact: We who have conscientiously nourished the art of loving, openly, expansively and inclusively (rather than fearfully and defensively, thus exclusively) nurture attitudes, which buoy each other's spirits, and though tis true that as we age, birthdays roll in faster than can be believed, my viewpoints continue to feel, as open minded and youthfully technicolored as springtime—unless a play date with Ravi extends for more than two days in a row, after which my body's energy level, stretched beyond today's natural limits, insists on napping as often as when this gramma had truly been a very sleepy babe in arms.
Photo taken about ten years ago in Istanbul with our current house guests
(In addition to being our travel companions for these past twenty years
Mr. Mustache doubled with us when Will escorted me to my senior prom)
)
See our snow birds in the middle; couple on the right plan to
Pleasure us as house guests in two weeks (after David flies in and out)
Every bit as animated, today, as when we'd enjoyed each other, fifty years back
Our snow bird friend of fifty-five years (also pictured, above)
A Pair of friends, who have tickled each other's
Funny bones over these past fifty-five years
(Sadly, his wife, one of my closest friends since college
Succumbed to a brain tumor, four years ago, last month ...
Not All friends, over these past fifty-five years, take up golf
(Though the photo is fuzzy, the affection is clear)
Below, behold my forever friends from high school and college days, married to
The guys, pictured above—all of whom chose to fly in from several states
Thirteen years back, adding to the celebratory spirit, permeating
Celina and Steven's wedding—from the left:
First, we see my dear high school friend, who is standing next to
My treasured college friend (who, along with her husband
Plan to be our house guests after David flies in and out )...
Next, you see my friend, who has been deeply missed over these past four years, and
To my right is our snow bird friend, who (along with her husband, pictured with
Will, golf club in hand) has chosen to feather a nest in the desert for
Three winter months, and last but not least, we see
My dear traveling companion, who, having appeared in the first photo, taken in Istanbul
Brings us full circle, concerning this winter's house guests, who plan to unpack and lap up
As many sunny days as their busy calendars (and ours) permit ...
As for now, I don't want to be late for a standing appointment—you see, with house guests coming and going through our revolving door, year after year—we've all come to this understanding: Though flexibility is key to peace of mind, much of Will's daily routine and mine remains unchanged—why? Because it's become clear to one and all that adopting this all-inclusive plan has been founded in common sense. And thus does each person, who flies in to nest with us, feel free to nourish his or her personal comfort level by accepting the fact that all groups (who flock together as do birds of a feather) are made up of individuals, each of whom harbors needs, which differ from one another, suggesting that whether we're enjoying time winging together or apart, our spirit of friendship continues to thrive in an unruffled state, year in and year out ...
Today, upon arising, I found our current guests in the kitchen, enjoying bagels and coffee, gazing, contentedly, through the large picture window at the endless expanse of bright blue sky, which ascends above and beyond the peak of 'my' mountain, as far as the eye can see, and rather than feeling conflicted or guilty about not preparing breakfast, as had been true in the past, when deep inside, I'd taken my role as hostess-with-the-mostest much too seriously, I thanked our friends, good-naturedly for taking such good care of themselves and me—I mean, can you blame me for the fact that upon awakening, well rested, to the aroma of coffee wafting through the air, my pleasure center felt reason to smile? Then, having poured a mug of steaming java for myself, all three of us enjoyed a good laugh after I'd kissed each one, good morning, followed by sniffing their cheeks with a twinkle in my eye, thus sparking their mirth, because they got my meaning, right off the bat—So, do we smell like fish (asked my friends, who'd been house guests for more than three days)? Nope! You still smell like my treasured friends!—Ha! Ha! Then, we proceeded to brainstorm possible plans for the day to come, when Ravi's precious presence dictated that we'd lovingly factor in her needs, which differed from our own.
Oh, BTW, did I tell you that our sons' original plan for our 50th anniversary party has been revised in such a way as to have pleasured spirits, all around? I mean, just because a plan in its original form created conflicts, doesn't mean we need to throw the baby out with the bath water, right?
Once stories of raising siblings (which will showcase simple plans of action that smoothed ruffled feathers each time the eruption of conflict invaded peace of mind) flow freely from a place of stream of consciousness within my mind, you'll see why the pensive nature of intuitive insights, positively focused, solution seeking thought processes, and creative plans of action tend to blend so often with my corny sense of humor as long as negative focus and self doubt are reminded to sit in time out, thus freeing my intelligence to make sound use of my voice, and thus, by way of story telling, will I demonstrate the reasons why each one of my sons developed the common sense to follow a role model, who continues to choose to employ those same strengths each time a new conflict ensues as I age ...
Once stories of raising siblings (which will showcase simple plans of action that smoothed ruffled feathers each time the eruption of conflict invaded peace of mind) flow freely from a place of stream of consciousness within my mind, you'll see why the pensive nature of intuitive insights, positively focused, solution seeking thought processes, and creative plans of action tend to blend so often with my corny sense of humor as long as negative focus and self doubt are reminded to sit in time out, thus freeing my intelligence to make sound use of my voice, and thus, by way of story telling, will I demonstrate the reasons why each one of my sons developed the common sense to follow a role model, who continues to choose to employ those same strengths each time a new conflict ensues as I age ...
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
1341 HOORAY FOR ANOTHER SPIRIT SOARING, BLUE SKIED, SUNNY DAY
I've not had time to write a new post, because intuition continues to guide my mind toward revising the previous post whenever time permits, and writing time has proved short, because I'm truly enjoying every day spent with our treasured snow bird friends, more than words can say.
Yesterday, they played witness to why our darling Ravi wins smiles, laughter and hearts wherever she goes. One of my friends ( all of whom are grandparents) exclaimed: Watching Ravi is better than watching TV.
And now, tis high time to get my happy sense of perkiness in gear, because coffee refuses to perk until my mind, body and spirit make a bee line toward the kitchen where stirrings suggest that my friends are up for whatever we choose to do with this lovely, brand new day ...
BTW, in case you wonder who writes my blog, the true me or my persona, please feel assured that what what you see of me is who I am, straight down to my core, and here is how I know that is true, through and through. The fact of the matter is this: When misery was buried behind the mask of my smile, I could not show emotion, which proved so deeply repressed that I could not feel its presence. Once the lock on that hidden door, behind which subconscious fear and unhealed sadness had been anesthetized, I regained conscious awareness of every emotion as thoroughly as is true of a very small child, and once EMDR therapy enabled me to complete that change for the better, session by session, my self protective mask no longer felt necessary, and thus was my persona slowly, gently and compassionately ... euthanized ...
Yesterday, they played witness to why our darling Ravi wins smiles, laughter and hearts wherever she goes. One of my friends ( all of whom are grandparents) exclaimed: Watching Ravi is better than watching TV.
And now, tis high time to get my happy sense of perkiness in gear, because coffee refuses to perk until my mind, body and spirit make a bee line toward the kitchen where stirrings suggest that my friends are up for whatever we choose to do with this lovely, brand new day ...
BTW, in case you wonder who writes my blog, the true me or my persona, please feel assured that what what you see of me is who I am, straight down to my core, and here is how I know that is true, through and through. The fact of the matter is this: When misery was buried behind the mask of my smile, I could not show emotion, which proved so deeply repressed that I could not feel its presence. Once the lock on that hidden door, behind which subconscious fear and unhealed sadness had been anesthetized, I regained conscious awareness of every emotion as thoroughly as is true of a very small child, and once EMDR therapy enabled me to complete that change for the better, session by session, my self protective mask no longer felt necessary, and thus was my persona slowly, gently and compassionately ... euthanized ...
Sunday, February 21, 2016
1340 INTUITIVE THOUGHT AWAKENS CONSCIOUS AWARENESS
In answer to yesterday's question, here is the inner strength, which had remained subconsciously repressed over most of my life: a self assertive voice, exuding a self confident stance, suggesting ... Don't even attempt to mess with my mind ...
Assuming that you've read earlier posts in which stories describing my childhood have already been penned, can you guess why, I'd readily adopted an attitude exuding self disciplined, open minded compassion while the natural development of self assertive traits had been excluded from my stable of personal strengths ... until recently?
Can you conjure up the tragic circumstances, which, having disrupted the classic nature of my childhood home, had (unknowingly) caused me to swallow the development of my self assertiveness so as to have left me feeling dumbstruck and confounded each time anxiety spiked if I'd felt compelled to express a dissenting opinion that might draw forth a loved one's frown?
Can you ascertain why I grew up to be such a people pleaser as to have negated my personal needs in favor of serving the needs of others to the point of become so attentive to the needs of others as to have been tuned in before those needs had even been voiced, and thus, did I develop into an over achiever in countless aspects of life, suggesting that in many ways, being an over achieving, people pleaser had served me well ... And that was true until about a decade ago, when life offered my people pleasing persona a bevy of reasons to wear itself out ... And when my mask fell off and my defense system was too exhausted to muster the energy to pick it up, no one was as shocked to see the layers of repressed anger, which had layered up within the subconscious portion of my mind as me ... WHEW!
Once I've revealed the content of my thoughts, which arose from my depths while I was reading the memoir (referenced in yesterday's post), answers, concerning today's trio of interrelated questions, will appear on your screen.
As I've come to learn why the spirit of Socrates had so often swooped down from on high to whisper KNOW THYSELF, gently, compassionately and patiently, into my open ear, year after year, I give thanks for the fact that I'd consciously thought to nurture the development of my sons' open minded attitudes and self esteem, along with healing my own ... As to naysayers, who demonstrate need to level the play field by putting me down, once I became aware of the sum of my traits, both vulnerabilities and strengths, any barb, pointed at piercing my peace of mind, melts down without causing me pain. Why this change? Because my mind has fully absorbed the fact that wbomsoever hath need to target my heart with poisoned dart is in so much pain as to draw forth my compassion rather than my wrath ... (As you can see, in addition to time spent in the company of Socrates, I've also welcomed time spent with The Bard)
Yesterday, while reading the afore-mentioned memoir, intuition compelled me to pick up my stylus to pen thoughts, which had begun to pour out of the conscious portion of my mind, suggesting that I had no conscious clue that this next string of insights was about to emerge from the intuitive portion of my mind until they appeared, word by word, on my iPad's screen ... Whoops ... guess who lost track of time, suggesting that revealing those insights will have to wait till The next time a post appears on your screen, because sounds of house guests stirring suggest my need to ready myself to greet the day with a song in my heart as has been my habit since my grown sons were very young, at which time I'd realized that children are in need of a role model to guide their attitudes toward enjoying a positive start to each brand new day, and once that insight lit up inside my mind, I began to arise to organize myself 30 minutes before awakening each child, all of whom had been firmly, yet compassionately, taught to follow my well-balanced lead by adopting their mother's attitude of readying themselves for school, cheerfully rather than grumpily. And as the imaginative mind tends to find something extraordinary to wonder about everywhere we look, my kids and I felt eager to experience whatever each brand new day might offer up, suggesting that, as I advance in age, my positively focused attitude finds something extraordinary to charm my sense of discovery, and that's why I choose to greet each ordinary day as if a delightful surprise is about to spring out and rejuvenate my spirit. Ever since I chose to adopt that childlike attitude as my own, no day feels uneventful or boring as long as I remain as mentally attentive and adaptive to all there is to enjoy about life as had been true when I was young.
Hmmm ... now that I stop to think about it, perhaps life offers me nary a dull moment because my chosen state of mind continues to feel younger than springtime—at any rate, if I continue to give today's stream of consciousness free rein ... coffee won't perk till my mind switches gears, and as my heart feels eager to pleasure four of my dearest friends with a scrumptious brunch, which has yet to be prepared, tis high time for your friend, Annie, to bid you adieu till the sun shines bright, tomorrow, when Will plans to play golf with our friends, and I'll awaken, feeling blessed with delight while readying myself to pick up sweet natured, Ravi, whose inquisitive interest in everything arouses my own, and the fact that Ravi's delight at spending the day, playing with her doting gramma, is obvious when she jumps up and down, chortling with glee, as soon as her ever alert, little mind spies my bright red SUV pulling into Celina's and Steven's driveway, you can clearly see why time spent in this child's sweet-natured presence makes my heart sing—HOORAY for Ravi—HOORAY for ME! (and HOORAY for Celina, whose spirit enjoys feeling utterly free (twice weekly) to meet her personal needs, which deviates from the norm, when most of a home-maker's time is devoted to serving the needs of her child—unless tragic circumstances detour adult awareness away from progressing forward on the classic path, where family life is conducted in such a natural, well balanced manner as to prove emotionally healthy for one and all ...)
Ravi, delighting in every day life ...
Father and child delighting in that which each new season brings ...
Jumping for joy, just because ...
If a picture is worth a thousand years
You can see why I can't wait to partake
In each new experience that
Delights the sparkling spirit of this adorable child ...
Assuming that you've read earlier posts in which stories describing my childhood have already been penned, can you guess why, I'd readily adopted an attitude exuding self disciplined, open minded compassion while the natural development of self assertive traits had been excluded from my stable of personal strengths ... until recently?
Can you conjure up the tragic circumstances, which, having disrupted the classic nature of my childhood home, had (unknowingly) caused me to swallow the development of my self assertiveness so as to have left me feeling dumbstruck and confounded each time anxiety spiked if I'd felt compelled to express a dissenting opinion that might draw forth a loved one's frown?
Can you ascertain why I grew up to be such a people pleaser as to have negated my personal needs in favor of serving the needs of others to the point of become so attentive to the needs of others as to have been tuned in before those needs had even been voiced, and thus, did I develop into an over achiever in countless aspects of life, suggesting that in many ways, being an over achieving, people pleaser had served me well ... And that was true until about a decade ago, when life offered my people pleasing persona a bevy of reasons to wear itself out ... And when my mask fell off and my defense system was too exhausted to muster the energy to pick it up, no one was as shocked to see the layers of repressed anger, which had layered up within the subconscious portion of my mind as me ... WHEW!
Once I've revealed the content of my thoughts, which arose from my depths while I was reading the memoir (referenced in yesterday's post), answers, concerning today's trio of interrelated questions, will appear on your screen.
As for right now, let's consider this fact: Each babe in arms is born with the natural potential to develop a sense of self reliant resilience, which proves necessary to reclaim the lost portion of self trust, which may be repressed after an episode of utterly confounding, heart-rending devastation has been experienced, thus injuring the wholesome development of a child's healthy, self confident, young mind. Once inner conflict, concerning self trust, invades the good health of an active young mind, a child's decision-making process struggles for clarity. And as long as this aspect of mental confusion feels confounding, each step, taken, will lead the smartest of minds ever more deeply into a maze, where we can't see ourselves clearly until the emergence of strings of insight guides the conscious portion of an inquisitive minds toward the light at the end of the tunnel, where resolution of inner conflict awaits to heal the portion of a person's self esteem, which had suffered injury during the original childhood experience, when dark clouds had overshadowed that person's judgment, concerning his or her self worth, and now you know why my anxiety spiked, most especially at those times when I'd chosen to meet my basic needs in any way that might draw forth a frown from anyone, upon whom I'd depended for emotional safety and support ... And thus have I described the subconscious issue of abandonment, which may be repressed deep within the psyche of a person, who feels truly self confident and successful in many aspects of life. As some defense systems mask their fears behind a judgmental frown while others 'choose' to mask repressed fear behind a smile, that which is truly felt (but denied) behind the persona can be tough for even the most intuitive psychologists to figure out. In short, a person can not heal a fear, repressed so deeply within the psyche that it cannot even been felt. Let me put it this way: Though I recognized my fear of disappointing people, I did not know how deeply my fear of being abandoned had imprinted in my mind at the tender age of three, and the younger you are when tragedy hits, the harder it is to exhume feelings and reactions that had been way beyond the conscious comprehension of a pre-schooler's mind, and once clarity suggested that ferreting out the original source of my fear had been a feat of heroic portions, no owas my search to know my deepest self
It's also important to note that as long as an issue with abandonment remains secreted within a person's subconscious (and thus, unrevealed to your conscious mind), you'll continue to unknowingly make decisions, based in the arousal of undeserved guilt (as did I), and each time this guilt is aroused, though latent it may be, a sense of inner conflict will undermine your personal fulfillment of certain basic needs, which will remain unnecessarily unmet until something compels you to quest toward retrieving the key, which will unlock the door to that portion of your psyche where early injury to self esteem has remained in an unhealed and thus painfully raw state of being ... In my case, I was three when family tragedy triggered my inability to comprehend emotional complexity, and thus did I, feeling confounded, misguidedly and unwittingly charge myself with lifting the depressing burden of undeserved guilt off of my mother by absorbing the weight of undeserved guilt within a subconscious pocket of my mind, and as I was extremely young, guess who misplaced the key that would have freed my psyche from carrying that self-imposed weight until recently, when countless sessions of EMDR therapy enabled the intelligent adult, whom I've grown to be to muster the courage, little by little, to peel away layers of denial, behind which were buried sensations of excruciating pain, thus freeing the terrified, lonely three year old child, whose brain had signaled denial to save this child's sanity from succumbing to that which proves to be my newly exhumed, life long fear of emotional abandonment, at long last ... Double WHEW!
It's also important to note that as long as an issue with abandonment remains secreted within a person's subconscious (and thus, unrevealed to your conscious mind), you'll continue to unknowingly make decisions, based in the arousal of undeserved guilt (as did I), and each time this guilt is aroused, though latent it may be, a sense of inner conflict will undermine your personal fulfillment of certain basic needs, which will remain unnecessarily unmet until something compels you to quest toward retrieving the key, which will unlock the door to that portion of your psyche where early injury to self esteem has remained in an unhealed and thus painfully raw state of being ... In my case, I was three when family tragedy triggered my inability to comprehend emotional complexity, and thus did I, feeling confounded, misguidedly and unwittingly charge myself with lifting the depressing burden of undeserved guilt off of my mother by absorbing the weight of undeserved guilt within a subconscious pocket of my mind, and as I was extremely young, guess who misplaced the key that would have freed my psyche from carrying that self-imposed weight until recently, when countless sessions of EMDR therapy enabled the intelligent adult, whom I've grown to be to muster the courage, little by little, to peel away layers of denial, behind which were buried sensations of excruciating pain, thus freeing the terrified, lonely three year old child, whose brain had signaled denial to save this child's sanity from succumbing to that which proves to be my newly exhumed, life long fear of emotional abandonment, at long last ... Double WHEW!
As I've come to learn why the spirit of Socrates had so often swooped down from on high to whisper KNOW THYSELF, gently, compassionately and patiently, into my open ear, year after year, I give thanks for the fact that I'd consciously thought to nurture the development of my sons' open minded attitudes and self esteem, along with healing my own ... As to naysayers, who demonstrate need to level the play field by putting me down, once I became aware of the sum of my traits, both vulnerabilities and strengths, any barb, pointed at piercing my peace of mind, melts down without causing me pain. Why this change? Because my mind has fully absorbed the fact that wbomsoever hath need to target my heart with poisoned dart is in so much pain as to draw forth my compassion rather than my wrath ... (As you can see, in addition to time spent in the company of Socrates, I've also welcomed time spent with The Bard)
Yesterday, while reading the afore-mentioned memoir, intuition compelled me to pick up my stylus to pen thoughts, which had begun to pour out of the conscious portion of my mind, suggesting that I had no conscious clue that this next string of insights was about to emerge from the intuitive portion of my mind until they appeared, word by word, on my iPad's screen ... Whoops ... guess who lost track of time, suggesting that revealing those insights will have to wait till The next time a post appears on your screen, because sounds of house guests stirring suggest my need to ready myself to greet the day with a song in my heart as has been my habit since my grown sons were very young, at which time I'd realized that children are in need of a role model to guide their attitudes toward enjoying a positive start to each brand new day, and once that insight lit up inside my mind, I began to arise to organize myself 30 minutes before awakening each child, all of whom had been firmly, yet compassionately, taught to follow my well-balanced lead by adopting their mother's attitude of readying themselves for school, cheerfully rather than grumpily. And as the imaginative mind tends to find something extraordinary to wonder about everywhere we look, my kids and I felt eager to experience whatever each brand new day might offer up, suggesting that, as I advance in age, my positively focused attitude finds something extraordinary to charm my sense of discovery, and that's why I choose to greet each ordinary day as if a delightful surprise is about to spring out and rejuvenate my spirit. Ever since I chose to adopt that childlike attitude as my own, no day feels uneventful or boring as long as I remain as mentally attentive and adaptive to all there is to enjoy about life as had been true when I was young.
Hmmm ... now that I stop to think about it, perhaps life offers me nary a dull moment because my chosen state of mind continues to feel younger than springtime—at any rate, if I continue to give today's stream of consciousness free rein ... coffee won't perk till my mind switches gears, and as my heart feels eager to pleasure four of my dearest friends with a scrumptious brunch, which has yet to be prepared, tis high time for your friend, Annie, to bid you adieu till the sun shines bright, tomorrow, when Will plans to play golf with our friends, and I'll awaken, feeling blessed with delight while readying myself to pick up sweet natured, Ravi, whose inquisitive interest in everything arouses my own, and the fact that Ravi's delight at spending the day, playing with her doting gramma, is obvious when she jumps up and down, chortling with glee, as soon as her ever alert, little mind spies my bright red SUV pulling into Celina's and Steven's driveway, you can clearly see why time spent in this child's sweet-natured presence makes my heart sing—HOORAY for Ravi—HOORAY for ME! (and HOORAY for Celina, whose spirit enjoys feeling utterly free (twice weekly) to meet her personal needs, which deviates from the norm, when most of a home-maker's time is devoted to serving the needs of her child—unless tragic circumstances detour adult awareness away from progressing forward on the classic path, where family life is conducted in such a natural, well balanced manner as to prove emotionally healthy for one and all ...)
Ravi, delighting in every day life ...
Father and child delighting in that which each new season brings ...
Jumping for joy, just because ...
If a picture is worth a thousand years
You can see why I can't wait to partake
In each new experience that
Delights the sparkling spirit of this adorable child ...
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