Sometimes, I'm good at it and sometimes, I'm not.
Right now, I'm shoveling peanut butter M&M's into my mouth like a crack fiend...so, you could say that my will power is limited. Thank God, I didn't give up chocolate for Lent.
But other times, and particularly when I'm quiet with myself, I feel the power of sacrificial choices I've made in my life. Decisions to take the harder path or the road less traveled.
And what I've learned, even when it's painful, is that ultimately, it's good to do without.
It's important to let go of those things that move me away from that which is most important....my faith, my family, my health, my inner most passions.
And yet, it's not easy.
I like to eat. I like to spend money. I like to long for days past. I like to be lazy. I like to procrastinate. I like to talk...alot...and many times, waste time not taking action.
And so it really is with bated breath, that I weigh the concept of whether true happiness emerges with the recognition that you have only one life and it is meant to be lived fully by diving in, throwing caution to the wind, doing what your heart screams...or whether, it's best to feel the desire, spend time with it, assess it, and then act or not depending upon your evaluation.
My hunch is that it's a combination of both.
The challenging part is to know when to say no and to simply do without.
Sacrificial teachings are powerful. They tend to stay with us longer than the impulsive gulping of what we want, when we want.
Which is why, I have to physically remove these M&M's from my hand...sometimes, I know I'm just not strong enough to say no.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Portrait of a Mother
We had been trying to get together for weeks to have coffee.
But you know how life goes. The busyness of it all seems to get in the way.
So, after a coveted long run for me and crazy errand running for her, we finally connected.
Me holding a cup of java and she holding a steaming cup of chamomile, we looked each other in the eyes.
Not that it matters much, but we look quite similar. I was born when she was 23-years old and so, to me and I suppose to the world, she's always been a "young mother." She also sounds like me...or maybe I should say that my voice mirrors hers, except she's more sugary than I am...if that's possible.
She and my father divorced when I was four years old and my brother was two-weeks old and so, for most of my growing up, she was a single mother. Dropping out of college to marry my dad meant that when she was doing it on her own, she held down factory jobs doing assembly line work, usually working the "second shift," from 3-11pm...so, we didn't see a lot of her.
I remember that her hands were usually cracked and she was constantly tired. It was tough to juggle putting food on the table and keeping reliable babysitters for me and my brother, but she did it. Not perfectly by any stretch, but she did it.
Sitting across from her now, me at the age of 37 and she at the age of 60, I was enamored.
My mother is an incredible woman.
And as I looked, really looked at her it became more clear why. Throughout all of the suffering, the failed loves, the disappointments, and the doubts....she is a survivor and not just a shadow walking the earth waiting for something better.
When you look into her eyes, she greets you with joy. Her eyes shine and her heart says, "I'm here for you." And she is beautiful and loving not just to me, but to all who have the opportunity to cross her path.
And so, when she pulled out her will and testiment papers and said, "I'm just doing this so that someday, you and your brother and sisters won't have to be burdened," I started to tear up inside. And I wanted to say, "Now, that I'm old enough to finally appreciate you....please live for a very long time, so that we can have many, many more of these coffee chats. I love seeing you, finally, maybe for the first time."
But I didn't. Instead, I assured her that she'd be here for many moons to come and that I wanted her wedding ring. We both laughed. Smiled. Paused. And knew somewhere deep in our hearts that the relationship between a mother and a daughter is like none other....it just sometimes takes years to embrace it.
But you know how life goes. The busyness of it all seems to get in the way.
So, after a coveted long run for me and crazy errand running for her, we finally connected.
Me holding a cup of java and she holding a steaming cup of chamomile, we looked each other in the eyes.
Not that it matters much, but we look quite similar. I was born when she was 23-years old and so, to me and I suppose to the world, she's always been a "young mother." She also sounds like me...or maybe I should say that my voice mirrors hers, except she's more sugary than I am...if that's possible.
She and my father divorced when I was four years old and my brother was two-weeks old and so, for most of my growing up, she was a single mother. Dropping out of college to marry my dad meant that when she was doing it on her own, she held down factory jobs doing assembly line work, usually working the "second shift," from 3-11pm...so, we didn't see a lot of her.
I remember that her hands were usually cracked and she was constantly tired. It was tough to juggle putting food on the table and keeping reliable babysitters for me and my brother, but she did it. Not perfectly by any stretch, but she did it.
Sitting across from her now, me at the age of 37 and she at the age of 60, I was enamored.
My mother is an incredible woman.
And as I looked, really looked at her it became more clear why. Throughout all of the suffering, the failed loves, the disappointments, and the doubts....she is a survivor and not just a shadow walking the earth waiting for something better.
When you look into her eyes, she greets you with joy. Her eyes shine and her heart says, "I'm here for you." And she is beautiful and loving not just to me, but to all who have the opportunity to cross her path.
And so, when she pulled out her will and testiment papers and said, "I'm just doing this so that someday, you and your brother and sisters won't have to be burdened," I started to tear up inside. And I wanted to say, "Now, that I'm old enough to finally appreciate you....please live for a very long time, so that we can have many, many more of these coffee chats. I love seeing you, finally, maybe for the first time."
But I didn't. Instead, I assured her that she'd be here for many moons to come and that I wanted her wedding ring. We both laughed. Smiled. Paused. And knew somewhere deep in our hearts that the relationship between a mother and a daughter is like none other....it just sometimes takes years to embrace it.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Fly the Coop
I was making his bed.
My son, Sam is 8-years old and by all accounts old enough to be making his own bed...but I do it, every morning.
Mostly, because I'm a control freak and like the way the bed looks when I do it and also because the little bit of time we have before getting out the door for school doesn't seem to merit it.
But the other day, I was up on his bunk bed (he inhabits the top) and he was laying on the floor lamenting getting out of his pj's and into clothes for the day.
"You know when you go to college, you'll have to make your own bed. You want to keep a clean space for your roommate. And who knows? Maybe your best friend will end up going off to college with you."
"I'm not going away to college," he says matter-of-factly.
"Going away is a blast. Both papa and I did and had so much fun. You get to meet new people, see new things, and have really cool experiences."
"Nope. I'm staying right here."
While biting my tongue, I let it go. All of it. My desire to scream at the top of my lungs that going away to college is so important. That traveling abroad, studying another culture, language, and religion changes you in a way that is almost indescribable. Getting outside of your comfort zone and having to clean up your own messes literally and figuratively is transformational.
But in that moment, my 8-year old just wanted the creature comforts of home and I get that. But sooner, rather than later, I pray that he sees the power and benefit of leaving the nest. Not simply to inhabit one that is a short car ride away, but one that is many moons away that requires time, effort and money to get to.
After sharing this dialogue with my husband, he retorted with..."You know, he might just want different things out of life. And that's okay."
To which I thought, want different things out of life? How can you know what you want out of life until you go and explore what the world has to offer? How can you know who you are in your own skin until you're stretched farther and thinner than you thought possible?
Nope. I think I'll draw a line in the sand with my three kiddos. They'll be required to go away and do something for at least a year. And then, if they miss Omaha and the comforts of our home, well, then, we'll talk.
Maybe I'm being a hard ass or maybe I'll be singing a different tune when they're in high school and want nothing to do with me...but I feel that I'd be remiss if I didn't encourage them to fly the coop.
My son, Sam is 8-years old and by all accounts old enough to be making his own bed...but I do it, every morning.
Mostly, because I'm a control freak and like the way the bed looks when I do it and also because the little bit of time we have before getting out the door for school doesn't seem to merit it.
But the other day, I was up on his bunk bed (he inhabits the top) and he was laying on the floor lamenting getting out of his pj's and into clothes for the day.
"You know when you go to college, you'll have to make your own bed. You want to keep a clean space for your roommate. And who knows? Maybe your best friend will end up going off to college with you."
"I'm not going away to college," he says matter-of-factly.
"Going away is a blast. Both papa and I did and had so much fun. You get to meet new people, see new things, and have really cool experiences."
"Nope. I'm staying right here."
While biting my tongue, I let it go. All of it. My desire to scream at the top of my lungs that going away to college is so important. That traveling abroad, studying another culture, language, and religion changes you in a way that is almost indescribable. Getting outside of your comfort zone and having to clean up your own messes literally and figuratively is transformational.
But in that moment, my 8-year old just wanted the creature comforts of home and I get that. But sooner, rather than later, I pray that he sees the power and benefit of leaving the nest. Not simply to inhabit one that is a short car ride away, but one that is many moons away that requires time, effort and money to get to.
After sharing this dialogue with my husband, he retorted with..."You know, he might just want different things out of life. And that's okay."
To which I thought, want different things out of life? How can you know what you want out of life until you go and explore what the world has to offer? How can you know who you are in your own skin until you're stretched farther and thinner than you thought possible?
Nope. I think I'll draw a line in the sand with my three kiddos. They'll be required to go away and do something for at least a year. And then, if they miss Omaha and the comforts of our home, well, then, we'll talk.
Maybe I'm being a hard ass or maybe I'll be singing a different tune when they're in high school and want nothing to do with me...but I feel that I'd be remiss if I didn't encourage them to fly the coop.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
A Chance Shit Encounter at Target
Admittedly, I was tired.
And spent and probably stretched a little thin.
And well, having it out with a random person in the check out line at Target is maybe not the most productive way to spend a morning,
But damn it. When did people think that it was okay to get in your business?
"She's really cute. She looks just like you."
"Aw, thank you. She's our third and definitely the feistiest one of the bunch." Cue in Claire throwing shit from the cart onto the conveyor belt, including a dozen eggs.
"You stay home with them?" She says dressed to the nines holding a box of tampons and a pack of gum.
"I do. Do you see any syrup or chocolate milk on me? I usually can't escape the house without wearing some part of their meal." I say laughing as the cashier greets me.
"No, you look like you just came back from the gym. That must be nice to do that during the day."
Feeling a little put off, "Nope. I head out at 5am for a run and get back before the cows come home. Just rarely get a chance to change."
"Yeah...my friend stays at home with hers. I always tell her that it must be a sweet deal to not have to get out of your sweat pants and have permission to eat the kids' macaroni and cheese." She retorts chuckling.
Yeah...it's fucking Disneyland. Every. Minute. God damn roller coaster ride of joy....I think and then blurt out, "That's funny. I was just gonna compliment you on your shoes. I was thinking of getting a pair similar to them, but then we sliced our income in half."
I have no idea why certain comments send me into a tail spin. Whether you work outside of the home, inside, both, or not at all....the whole life deal with kids is a crazy ass roller coaster ride.
When you're wearing a suit, you just want to wear yoga pants. And when you're wearing sweats, you yearn to dress up. When you see your kids at the end of the day, you wish you could watch movies in your pjs and hang out all the time. When you spend hour after hour with them, you just want a break.
The times I feel most put off are when I'm tired. When I'm wiped. And I should just know better. Plus, if she's holding a box of tampons and expecting a visit...she probably should have known better too.
And spent and probably stretched a little thin.
And well, having it out with a random person in the check out line at Target is maybe not the most productive way to spend a morning,
But damn it. When did people think that it was okay to get in your business?
"She's really cute. She looks just like you."
"Aw, thank you. She's our third and definitely the feistiest one of the bunch." Cue in Claire throwing shit from the cart onto the conveyor belt, including a dozen eggs.
"You stay home with them?" She says dressed to the nines holding a box of tampons and a pack of gum.
"I do. Do you see any syrup or chocolate milk on me? I usually can't escape the house without wearing some part of their meal." I say laughing as the cashier greets me.
"No, you look like you just came back from the gym. That must be nice to do that during the day."
Feeling a little put off, "Nope. I head out at 5am for a run and get back before the cows come home. Just rarely get a chance to change."
"Yeah...my friend stays at home with hers. I always tell her that it must be a sweet deal to not have to get out of your sweat pants and have permission to eat the kids' macaroni and cheese." She retorts chuckling.
Yeah...it's fucking Disneyland. Every. Minute. God damn roller coaster ride of joy....I think and then blurt out, "That's funny. I was just gonna compliment you on your shoes. I was thinking of getting a pair similar to them, but then we sliced our income in half."
I have no idea why certain comments send me into a tail spin. Whether you work outside of the home, inside, both, or not at all....the whole life deal with kids is a crazy ass roller coaster ride.
When you're wearing a suit, you just want to wear yoga pants. And when you're wearing sweats, you yearn to dress up. When you see your kids at the end of the day, you wish you could watch movies in your pjs and hang out all the time. When you spend hour after hour with them, you just want a break.
The times I feel most put off are when I'm tired. When I'm wiped. And I should just know better. Plus, if she's holding a box of tampons and expecting a visit...she probably should have known better too.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Any Road'll Take You There
Recently, I read a quote by lead guitarist of the Beatles, George Harrison and it just clicked.
"If you don't know where you're going, any road'll take you there."
This is a mantra that we could all stand to heed.
Why? Because if we're honest, we recognize that most days, we're just trying to do the best with what we've been given and where we find ourselves.
The challenge comes when we feel the itch to shift the trajectory of the future and we want something more, something different or something far less complicated than the station we're living in.
All of these realizations are a good thing. Honing, refining, choosing actively to engage in life is what it's about. The problem seems to be when we don't know where to leap next or how to make the shift....and we're left feeling stagnant, exhausted, withdrawn, depleted.
And so as George Harrison so aptly says, wherever you find yourself now is the right road and wherever you move next will get you to where you need to go. The only clause should be...
If...
You open your eyes. Speak the truth. Be honest with your desires. Hold true to your principles. And include the ones you love in your choices.
Life is for the living. Nothing is permanent. Everything is fixable. There really are few mistakes.
Just trust that in this moment, your feet are planted firmly on this part of the path, until your heart and your truth tells you that it's time to turn.
You'll know when.
"If you don't know where you're going, any road'll take you there."
This is a mantra that we could all stand to heed.
Why? Because if we're honest, we recognize that most days, we're just trying to do the best with what we've been given and where we find ourselves.
The challenge comes when we feel the itch to shift the trajectory of the future and we want something more, something different or something far less complicated than the station we're living in.
All of these realizations are a good thing. Honing, refining, choosing actively to engage in life is what it's about. The problem seems to be when we don't know where to leap next or how to make the shift....and we're left feeling stagnant, exhausted, withdrawn, depleted.
And so as George Harrison so aptly says, wherever you find yourself now is the right road and wherever you move next will get you to where you need to go. The only clause should be...
If...
You open your eyes. Speak the truth. Be honest with your desires. Hold true to your principles. And include the ones you love in your choices.
Life is for the living. Nothing is permanent. Everything is fixable. There really are few mistakes.
Just trust that in this moment, your feet are planted firmly on this part of the path, until your heart and your truth tells you that it's time to turn.
You'll know when.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
'House of Cards' Addict
Are you a Netflix subscriber?
A Kevin Spacey lover?
A political drama junkie?
A voyeur of human behavior?
An appreciator of the side monologue?
If you've answered in the affirmative to the above aforementioned questions, your ass needs to grab a beer or a glass of wine, a good friend, your remote and 40 minutes of time....time, well spent.
"House of Cards" is an American political drama series adapted from a previous BBC miniseries of the same name. Kevin Spacey serves as Frank Underwood, a democratic congressman from South Carolina and the House Majority Whip. After being passed up as the next Secretary of State in the new administration, he is determined to exact out his revenge on all of the political players in his sphere of influence.
Spacey is married to Robin Wright who plays the lovely and brilliant Claire Underwood, an executive director for a not for profit organization focused on clean water rights. And Kate Mara plays an incredibly ambitious and seductive reporter, Zoe Barnes who brokers a deal with Spacey to get inside information to write cutting edge stories for print.
Netflix won the bid to distribute the series and signed on to produce two seasons or 26 episodes. On February 1, 2013, they released the first season and in the first two weeks, the series has been the most watched on Netflix to date.
And why is that? Because the acting is brilliant. David Fincher, a fucking rockstar genius of a director grabbed the number one picks for each of the characters and made them come to life.
AND...because all of the first season is available at once in multiple episode form.
The formatting is what makes the series perfect. People can watch it when they want to without interruptions and feel like they're getting a substantial experience.
They're now in the process of filming season two which makes me giddy as I type this. I've been spoon feeding myself with an episode a night. Much like chocolate, wine, a good orgasm....it's so worth it.
Do yourself a favor and take a peak...
A Kevin Spacey lover?
A political drama junkie?
A voyeur of human behavior?
An appreciator of the side monologue?
If you've answered in the affirmative to the above aforementioned questions, your ass needs to grab a beer or a glass of wine, a good friend, your remote and 40 minutes of time....time, well spent.
"House of Cards" is an American political drama series adapted from a previous BBC miniseries of the same name. Kevin Spacey serves as Frank Underwood, a democratic congressman from South Carolina and the House Majority Whip. After being passed up as the next Secretary of State in the new administration, he is determined to exact out his revenge on all of the political players in his sphere of influence.
Spacey is married to Robin Wright who plays the lovely and brilliant Claire Underwood, an executive director for a not for profit organization focused on clean water rights. And Kate Mara plays an incredibly ambitious and seductive reporter, Zoe Barnes who brokers a deal with Spacey to get inside information to write cutting edge stories for print.
Netflix won the bid to distribute the series and signed on to produce two seasons or 26 episodes. On February 1, 2013, they released the first season and in the first two weeks, the series has been the most watched on Netflix to date.
And why is that? Because the acting is brilliant. David Fincher, a fucking rockstar genius of a director grabbed the number one picks for each of the characters and made them come to life.
AND...because all of the first season is available at once in multiple episode form.
The formatting is what makes the series perfect. People can watch it when they want to without interruptions and feel like they're getting a substantial experience.
They're now in the process of filming season two which makes me giddy as I type this. I've been spoon feeding myself with an episode a night. Much like chocolate, wine, a good orgasm....it's so worth it.
Do yourself a favor and take a peak...
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Book Writing in My Dreams
He had been watching her for months.
But how much can you really know...when all you randomly see is the back of her ponytail bob as she runs by.
That's all she ever seems to do. That and push kids in a stroller and trash down the hill to the curb and New York Times papers to the recycle bin.
And when she's not wearing sunglasses, her eyes are blue...extraordinarily so. And she's beaming...not necessarily from her smile, but more so from her soul. A soul that beams. A rare deal.
The truth is that we'll never know each other, because a neighbor, or rather a guy that lives blocks away, that happens to frequent hers from time to time, can't be friends with a married woman who doesn't know he exists.
It's too weird and too suspicious...even if I'm widowed and just celebrated my 74th birthday. Just doesn't happen in today's day and age. I'd probably be arrested or something. But I wish it could be. I think we could be friends.
This is the start to the book that I was writing in the dream I was dreaming last night. Does that make any sense? I've been struck with this desire to write a short story or the beginning chapters of a novel, but the sheer daunting task of it all overwhelms me and then, I end up paralyzed and with nothing to show for it.
That's the power of dreams. The subconscious takes over and starts wittling away at the thoughts that no matter how hard we try to compartmentalize them, won't seem to go away. And then writer's block is overcome and well, you just have to remember what the Sandman brought you to chew on.
Since the thoughts of inferiority don't seem to subside, I guess I'll have to just start writing and let go of the premise that no one cares or that it will never get published. It doesn't matter, right. It's just the process that counts.
Here's to more dreaming...I need to find out what happens next.
But how much can you really know...when all you randomly see is the back of her ponytail bob as she runs by.
That's all she ever seems to do. That and push kids in a stroller and trash down the hill to the curb and New York Times papers to the recycle bin.
And when she's not wearing sunglasses, her eyes are blue...extraordinarily so. And she's beaming...not necessarily from her smile, but more so from her soul. A soul that beams. A rare deal.
The truth is that we'll never know each other, because a neighbor, or rather a guy that lives blocks away, that happens to frequent hers from time to time, can't be friends with a married woman who doesn't know he exists.
It's too weird and too suspicious...even if I'm widowed and just celebrated my 74th birthday. Just doesn't happen in today's day and age. I'd probably be arrested or something. But I wish it could be. I think we could be friends.
This is the start to the book that I was writing in the dream I was dreaming last night. Does that make any sense? I've been struck with this desire to write a short story or the beginning chapters of a novel, but the sheer daunting task of it all overwhelms me and then, I end up paralyzed and with nothing to show for it.
That's the power of dreams. The subconscious takes over and starts wittling away at the thoughts that no matter how hard we try to compartmentalize them, won't seem to go away. And then writer's block is overcome and well, you just have to remember what the Sandman brought you to chew on.
Since the thoughts of inferiority don't seem to subside, I guess I'll have to just start writing and let go of the premise that no one cares or that it will never get published. It doesn't matter, right. It's just the process that counts.
Here's to more dreaming...I need to find out what happens next.
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