For seemingly forever and a day, my friend has been encouraging me to write a post delving into the world of mediums.
You know, those people that have the gift of being able to "cross over" to the other side and engage with the deceased.
Take for example, the new TV show, the "Long Island Medium," focused on a woman who claims to be able to make contact with the departed.
Do you buy it? Is it conceivable? Or is it simply a hoax...preying on the vulnerability of the ones left behind?
I'm not sure. The only thing I do know is that during seasons of my life when I've missed a loved one that is no longer with me, I've prayed and tried to connect with them, especially when I'm hurting or lost.
For example, my paternal grandmother loved cardinals. She had statues of them all over her home. She incorporated them into her Christmas cards. She believed that they were magical whenever we were in their presence.
And so now, when a cardinal comes and perches on my fence post, I feel as though she is somehow with me. Since she's died, I've never heard her voice or necessarily been aware that she's heard mine, but the symbol of the bird signifies both a feeling of calm and freedom simultaneously...and somehow, I feel that she's connected to this life I've carved.
Maybe I would feel differently if I had some unfinished business with a member of the dead. Maybe if I needed closure or an answer to a question left unresolved, I'd want to know more.
The truth is that no one really knows what happens post death and when someone leaves us, we are left to try to fill in the blanks. Many times, we rely on our faith teachings believing that we will one day be reunited again. For others, it's simply the end of the relationship.
Either way, is it possible that people live on this earth with one foot here and another foot in the hereafter? Interesting thoughts to ponder on the eve of Halloween.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
Erosion of the Spirit
It wasn't what she said.
Eerily, it was the tone in her voice.
Resigned. Renouced. Abdicated from the joy that I had been accustomed to knowing for so many years. And then, after some dialogue, what appeared to be surrender to her situation.
After countless dialogues with girlfriends about themselves or those closest to them...I'm convinced her situation is not unique.
When the power balance shifts in a relationship and one person consistently and often cruelly subjects the other to their demands, the spirit of the overpowered is lost and their identity is morphed into what the dominator decides it should be.
Mark my words.
It's happening in more relationships/marriages than we care to concern ourselves with...until, it's someone close to you, and then, it makes a difference.
But how? How does it happen? What perfect storm of factors or convergence of scenarios would allow a beautiful, educated, capable woman to fall prey to the harsh extremes and irrational behaviors of the man who vowed to love and protect her for the rest of her life?
Let me begin by saying that it doesn't happen over night. Not even remotely.
There may be a sign, a red flag here or there of controlling behavior, but often in the dating stages, it's passed off as attentiveness or territorial love, which may be welcomed if the woman hasn't been loved in some time.
And then once a life is created....a house, a business, children, extended family...well, then beyond the blessings, stress rears its ugly head and unfortunately, what appeared to be love before is now the reality of the situation....control, limitations, ugly outbursts, and blame.
Most of these scenarios feel shameful and humiliating to the one who's finding out the real side of her partner....which is both frightening and frustrating.
But who do you share the details with? Especially, when your partner is loved by many and appears "normal" to the outside world.
The answer is you don't. At least probably not for a long time.
And by that point, your spirit becomes eroded, your confidence diminished, and your prospects for the future are grim.
But as I sat on the phone with my friend...I gave her this advice...
"Find your voice again. Never, never, never stop fighting for what you know to be true in your marriage. You are in a partnering relationship, not a parental one. You are to afford each other mutual respect and to make decisions jointly. You are competent, capable and resourceful and no one can take that away from you. We teach people how to treat us, so let him know that you will not accept abusive language, controlling demands or irrational/fear based behaviors. Enough is enough."
I am bloody over this control dynamic that I'm witnessing in too many relationships. Men and women deserve respect in relationships...this comes from actions, not from words.
Until then, I swear to God if I hear of another man trying to usurp his power over the hands and heart of one of my girlfriends, I'm taking a God damn two by four to their heads. Mark my words.
Eerily, it was the tone in her voice.
Resigned. Renouced. Abdicated from the joy that I had been accustomed to knowing for so many years. And then, after some dialogue, what appeared to be surrender to her situation.
After countless dialogues with girlfriends about themselves or those closest to them...I'm convinced her situation is not unique.
When the power balance shifts in a relationship and one person consistently and often cruelly subjects the other to their demands, the spirit of the overpowered is lost and their identity is morphed into what the dominator decides it should be.
Mark my words.
It's happening in more relationships/marriages than we care to concern ourselves with...until, it's someone close to you, and then, it makes a difference.
But how? How does it happen? What perfect storm of factors or convergence of scenarios would allow a beautiful, educated, capable woman to fall prey to the harsh extremes and irrational behaviors of the man who vowed to love and protect her for the rest of her life?
Let me begin by saying that it doesn't happen over night. Not even remotely.
There may be a sign, a red flag here or there of controlling behavior, but often in the dating stages, it's passed off as attentiveness or territorial love, which may be welcomed if the woman hasn't been loved in some time.
And then once a life is created....a house, a business, children, extended family...well, then beyond the blessings, stress rears its ugly head and unfortunately, what appeared to be love before is now the reality of the situation....control, limitations, ugly outbursts, and blame.
Most of these scenarios feel shameful and humiliating to the one who's finding out the real side of her partner....which is both frightening and frustrating.
But who do you share the details with? Especially, when your partner is loved by many and appears "normal" to the outside world.
The answer is you don't. At least probably not for a long time.
And by that point, your spirit becomes eroded, your confidence diminished, and your prospects for the future are grim.
But as I sat on the phone with my friend...I gave her this advice...
"Find your voice again. Never, never, never stop fighting for what you know to be true in your marriage. You are in a partnering relationship, not a parental one. You are to afford each other mutual respect and to make decisions jointly. You are competent, capable and resourceful and no one can take that away from you. We teach people how to treat us, so let him know that you will not accept abusive language, controlling demands or irrational/fear based behaviors. Enough is enough."
I am bloody over this control dynamic that I'm witnessing in too many relationships. Men and women deserve respect in relationships...this comes from actions, not from words.
Until then, I swear to God if I hear of another man trying to usurp his power over the hands and heart of one of my girlfriends, I'm taking a God damn two by four to their heads. Mark my words.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
When an Email Changes Everything
It had been over ten years since she'd heard his voice, seen his face or known what he was up to.
Her hunch was that he'd settled down, gotten promoted, and maybe had kids of his own.
Their friendship hadn't ended well and lots of things that should have been said weren't, while other things that shouldn't have, came out in droves....making a reconciliation highly unlikely.
And then out of nowhere on a spring day, the message came, "I'm sorry. I miss you. I wish you well."
He wasn't an old boyfriend or past love, no he was more. He was a really good friend...which is unfortunate because really genuine, giving, platonic relationships between guys and girls are rare.
But the truth is, she'd wondered and hoped that he'd found the love of his life, that he was making rituals of his own, and that the world was treating him with the kindness that he deserved.
The question was whether to write back. And then, of course, what to say. Had too much time passed? Was it all simply water under the bridge? Would they have anything in common and beyond that, how do you move past the awkwardness of the events that led to their separation?
In the end, hope usually wins and faith in their foundation forged a path.
"Thank you for reaching out. I'm sorry for my part in how things went down. I'm so happy to hear about your family. Let's try again."
It's not always easy to reach out, especially when an extraordinary amount of time has passed. It's not always easy to know what you'll get, when you do, but most of the time it's worth it.
Often, it just takes a little courage, vulnerability, hope, and a few key strokes. Typically, I'm sorry is a good place to start.
Her hunch was that he'd settled down, gotten promoted, and maybe had kids of his own.
Their friendship hadn't ended well and lots of things that should have been said weren't, while other things that shouldn't have, came out in droves....making a reconciliation highly unlikely.
And then out of nowhere on a spring day, the message came, "I'm sorry. I miss you. I wish you well."
He wasn't an old boyfriend or past love, no he was more. He was a really good friend...which is unfortunate because really genuine, giving, platonic relationships between guys and girls are rare.
But the truth is, she'd wondered and hoped that he'd found the love of his life, that he was making rituals of his own, and that the world was treating him with the kindness that he deserved.
The question was whether to write back. And then, of course, what to say. Had too much time passed? Was it all simply water under the bridge? Would they have anything in common and beyond that, how do you move past the awkwardness of the events that led to their separation?
In the end, hope usually wins and faith in their foundation forged a path.
"Thank you for reaching out. I'm sorry for my part in how things went down. I'm so happy to hear about your family. Let's try again."
It's not always easy to reach out, especially when an extraordinary amount of time has passed. It's not always easy to know what you'll get, when you do, but most of the time it's worth it.
Often, it just takes a little courage, vulnerability, hope, and a few key strokes. Typically, I'm sorry is a good place to start.
Monday, October 22, 2012
What Happens When Its Not Enough
Have you ever done that thing...
Where you say to yourself...I'll have just one...beer, piece of chocolate, handful of chips...
Or, that other thing where you say...I'll be really good once the holidays are over or when we get back from our trip or after I make the project deadline...then, I'll concentrate on doing the right thing.
And when you're doing that thing....that rationalization of indulgence...and all along, you're fully intending to get buzzed, to eat the whole bag of M&M's or to spend time doing something you shouldn't...you're thinking ugh, why do I always do this to myself?
And so the question is...what happens when it (fill in the blank) is not enough?
And why can some people live within the realm of moderation and others well, not so much?
Does it make you a bad person? Do you struggle with a character flaw?
Or is this the essence of what it means to be a human being?
And the sooner that we own our cravings/desires and work toward honoring the feelings connected to them...well, then are we on to something?
Because most of the time, it's not about the beer or the chocolate bar. Isn't it about being transported to a place not connected to the stress, exhaustion, predictability or blah of the current status quo?
And so the real question seems to be how to transport oneself to the fun, the spontaneous, the free...without feeling the shackles of the guilt in the interim. Because really, it's no fun if you're feeling bad about it in the process.
Where you say to yourself...I'll have just one...beer, piece of chocolate, handful of chips...
Or, that other thing where you say...I'll be really good once the holidays are over or when we get back from our trip or after I make the project deadline...then, I'll concentrate on doing the right thing.
And when you're doing that thing....that rationalization of indulgence...and all along, you're fully intending to get buzzed, to eat the whole bag of M&M's or to spend time doing something you shouldn't...you're thinking ugh, why do I always do this to myself?
And so the question is...what happens when it (fill in the blank) is not enough?
And why can some people live within the realm of moderation and others well, not so much?
Does it make you a bad person? Do you struggle with a character flaw?
Or is this the essence of what it means to be a human being?
And the sooner that we own our cravings/desires and work toward honoring the feelings connected to them...well, then are we on to something?
Because most of the time, it's not about the beer or the chocolate bar. Isn't it about being transported to a place not connected to the stress, exhaustion, predictability or blah of the current status quo?
And so the real question seems to be how to transport oneself to the fun, the spontaneous, the free...without feeling the shackles of the guilt in the interim. Because really, it's no fun if you're feeling bad about it in the process.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
One Hell Of A Week
Today didn't go down the way I wanted it to.
As I write, I'm stowed away in bed with some intestinal yuck, looking outside my window at a gorgeous 78 degree fall day that is begging me to join it.
My plan was to go to mass early with my family, help my son sell Boy Scout popcorn after church and then go for an 11-mile run.
The run was to cap off a beautiful and nearly gut wrenching exhaustion of a week.
With events/meetings every night, a memorable birthday party for my mother, lots of volunteering at the kids' schools and five days of running...my body was wiped out.
So, I was eager to be by myself with my iPod running on probably one of the last beautiful days of the season.
Until I woke up and quickly realized, that's not happening.
I'm learning that I suck at managing my own expectations. When I decide how I want something to go down, I'm pretty resolute to see it through. And so, well, argh.
The Sunday New York Times, cat napping, water, tea, and the hope that this is a 24-hour deal.
If not, I'm going to seek out a Shaman or a Buddhist monk for healing. No rest for the weary.
As I write, I'm stowed away in bed with some intestinal yuck, looking outside my window at a gorgeous 78 degree fall day that is begging me to join it.
My plan was to go to mass early with my family, help my son sell Boy Scout popcorn after church and then go for an 11-mile run.
The run was to cap off a beautiful and nearly gut wrenching exhaustion of a week.
With events/meetings every night, a memorable birthday party for my mother, lots of volunteering at the kids' schools and five days of running...my body was wiped out.
So, I was eager to be by myself with my iPod running on probably one of the last beautiful days of the season.
Until I woke up and quickly realized, that's not happening.
I'm learning that I suck at managing my own expectations. When I decide how I want something to go down, I'm pretty resolute to see it through. And so, well, argh.
The Sunday New York Times, cat napping, water, tea, and the hope that this is a 24-hour deal.
If not, I'm going to seek out a Shaman or a Buddhist monk for healing. No rest for the weary.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Your Crazy Big Idea
Each morning this week, I've woke up wanting to curl up and go back to bed.
4:30am comes too early when it's dark outside, it's cold, and flannel sheets are taunting me like sirens with their melodies of warmth and peace.
But alas, I get up. I turn on the coffee pot. Eat a banana. Put on my shoes and go.
Running.
I thought I would be sick of it by now. It's been almost a year since I've taken it up and with most new ventures in my life, I get bored easily.
But interestingly, beyond the physical benefits of weight loss, the greater energy reserves, and the discovery of my belly button again...I've located parts of me that were, well, lost.
I'm not sure that until I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone for an extended period of time that I appreciated what I was capable of. In fact as I look back over the last 10 months, I'm aware of more fear than I care to admit. More insecurity. More trepidation.
And the truth is life is just too short. It just is.
We fall down thinking that there is always tomorrow or another chance. Many times there is, but sometimes there's not.
We're never 100% prepared for any given situation and if we wait to do what our heart is calling us to try, but scared to attempt, the only fact is that we'll never know how amazing or horrifying that it could be.
Running has taught me to take risks. They may be calculated. But they're a far cry from thinking about it and never doing anything with it because it's a crazy idea.
If we all took our one crazy idea and shared it with the world...we might just be a happier, funnier, healthier group of people.
What's your crazy deal? What makes you all giddy inside just giving it ten seconds of thought? If money was no object, what would you be doing? Where does your passion reside? What's holding you back?
And if you knew that your days were limited, what crazy, big, beautiful, bold, YOU idea would you bring to the world?
Come on...I'm dying to know. We all are.
4:30am comes too early when it's dark outside, it's cold, and flannel sheets are taunting me like sirens with their melodies of warmth and peace.
But alas, I get up. I turn on the coffee pot. Eat a banana. Put on my shoes and go.
Running.
I thought I would be sick of it by now. It's been almost a year since I've taken it up and with most new ventures in my life, I get bored easily.
But interestingly, beyond the physical benefits of weight loss, the greater energy reserves, and the discovery of my belly button again...I've located parts of me that were, well, lost.
I'm not sure that until I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone for an extended period of time that I appreciated what I was capable of. In fact as I look back over the last 10 months, I'm aware of more fear than I care to admit. More insecurity. More trepidation.
And the truth is life is just too short. It just is.
We fall down thinking that there is always tomorrow or another chance. Many times there is, but sometimes there's not.
We're never 100% prepared for any given situation and if we wait to do what our heart is calling us to try, but scared to attempt, the only fact is that we'll never know how amazing or horrifying that it could be.
Running has taught me to take risks. They may be calculated. But they're a far cry from thinking about it and never doing anything with it because it's a crazy idea.
If we all took our one crazy idea and shared it with the world...we might just be a happier, funnier, healthier group of people.
What's your crazy deal? What makes you all giddy inside just giving it ten seconds of thought? If money was no object, what would you be doing? Where does your passion reside? What's holding you back?
And if you knew that your days were limited, what crazy, big, beautiful, bold, YOU idea would you bring to the world?
Come on...I'm dying to know. We all are.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Schizophrenic Living and Dreaming
It was really quiet.
And, I, well, I was soaking wet.
That's what happens when you forget to bring clean towels from the laundry room and you've turned off the shower and you're exposed with no protection in sight, literally.
And I was cold. And tired. And then, crunch. My toes smooshed a cheerio. Perfect.
And then, looking in the mirror, I heard her voice.
"It's all normal...all of it...this schizophrenic life that is yours. You can't imagine not being there for your kids' everything. And then when you are, you just want to run away and start a new life in...I don't know...Zimbabwe. And then you feel guilty because your Catholic, a mother, and trying to be all things to all people, always. Knock that shit off. It doesn't do anybody any good."
And then last night at a party, I heard his voice.
He was sharing his travels to Tuscany and his love for all things Italian. I was hanging on to his every word and sharing that my dream is to one day get there. "Then you will, if it's your dream. No one can take that away from you."
So, my plan is to keep doing the towel folding, cheerio pouring, diaper changing, stroller pushing, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" singing mama thing now...so that one day, I'll find myself in Italy writing with a glass of something bubbly on a veranda overlooking the countryside.
Hopefully, I'll be in my 40's...I hear that's when life begins anyway and according to my mom, her 40's were her sexiest years...here's hoping.
And, I, well, I was soaking wet.
That's what happens when you forget to bring clean towels from the laundry room and you've turned off the shower and you're exposed with no protection in sight, literally.
And I was cold. And tired. And then, crunch. My toes smooshed a cheerio. Perfect.
And then, looking in the mirror, I heard her voice.
"It's all normal...all of it...this schizophrenic life that is yours. You can't imagine not being there for your kids' everything. And then when you are, you just want to run away and start a new life in...I don't know...Zimbabwe. And then you feel guilty because your Catholic, a mother, and trying to be all things to all people, always. Knock that shit off. It doesn't do anybody any good."
And then last night at a party, I heard his voice.
He was sharing his travels to Tuscany and his love for all things Italian. I was hanging on to his every word and sharing that my dream is to one day get there. "Then you will, if it's your dream. No one can take that away from you."
So, my plan is to keep doing the towel folding, cheerio pouring, diaper changing, stroller pushing, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" singing mama thing now...so that one day, I'll find myself in Italy writing with a glass of something bubbly on a veranda overlooking the countryside.
Hopefully, I'll be in my 40's...I hear that's when life begins anyway and according to my mom, her 40's were her sexiest years...here's hoping.
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