Category Archives: Gratitude
Holding the plank – and wanting more
I held the plank last night.
In correct position, and with my arms shaking – I held on.
And when I got home, I started to get undressed when I noticed that the work I’ve put into my body these past weeks, is showing results.
I originally took a photo of my stomach for myself. When I looked at the picture after I took it – I noticed my arm. I was shocked. And excited. And I was sharing that!
I posted it to my Facebook wall, completely ecstatic that my goal of achieving tone was being realized.
I have other goals.
Other desires.
And what I tried to convey in my last post – was that I am trying to allow myself to want those things.
I found myself feeling on the precipices of a breakthrough – of starting to feel like a woman – in my prime – of wanting more for her.
At the same time, feeling very much confined to my hamster wheel and with no resources for even a change of cedar chips.
I needed to talk it out with someone.
So I did what I am only now learning how to do, I spoke up and reached out.
_______________________________
I had the most amazing conversation with one of my best friends.
I miss her.
This is the friend who wore a ball gown one casual Friday.
The friend who smeared cake on her own face just so she could turn around at the right moment and say “What cake?”
The friend I danced to P!nk with – and swooned over Dave Matthews with while we sipped Kendall Jackson Chardonnay.
The friend who was there for me during a devastating chapter in my life.
I love her.
She fought cancer and won. If that wasn’t enough to make her my hero, she’s bold and authentic, funny and smart, balanced, human and oh so loving.
She also happens to have the maiden name of my mother. First, middle and last. The odds of that are bonkers.
So I told her early this week, “I need to talk. I need a friend.”
We had a time planned, but then another friend needed me. The thing about true friends, is that there is no explaining, no awkwardness, just ‘can we talk another time?’
Yes we could. This weekend.
So I called her with tonight with “Are you home yet? What about now? What about now?”
No. She wasn’t home. But now was a good time.
She then proceeded to blow my ever so ‘undeserving’ mind with:
“It doesn’t mean you’re not grateful. It’s okay to acknowledge that you obviously have needs on many levels that are not being met.”
_______________________________
The thing about getting older, is that the window of opportunity for any significant life change gets smaller.
The older we get, the more likely we may become ill – become lonely – become someone we didn’t plan to be – and there are only so many do overs.
That is reality.
But so many times, ‘reality’ becomes an excuse for not trying.
As she said “We have to candy coat reality a little bit at least. To make life less bitter. We have to be able to dream, to want things for ourselves.”
This is true.
I can think of a million reasons why I can’t take a big step and make the little girl I used to be proud and excited again.
But all it takes is believing anything is possible and allowing myself to want something for myself. And that is NOT selfish.
I don’t know if I’m brave enough yet.
I don’t know if I believe enough in myself yet.
But I’m getting there.
If I can just hold on … even while I’m shaking.
Blossoming from the weeds
On my drive home today, I saw an elderly person weeding their front yard.
I was reminded of something that had a profound effect on me almost four years ago.
____________________
It was a time when it was imperative I get out of self. That I reach out and be of service to others.
Summer in the desert, and I noticed an old woman on my street tending to her weeds. It was hot. In the mid 120’s.
I parked, set my belongings inside and walked up the street to her house and called out.
“Hello?”
She didn’t hear me.
“Hello?”
She looked up from her crouched position, and from under her sun hat met my gaze.
“Yes?”
I was eager and just knew that she would think I was wonderful.
“May I help you weed your yard?”
I waited a beat – smile on my face.
“No thank you.” She said, with a peaceful smile on her own face.
I wasn’t expecting that.
I gauged her expression a moment to be sure she really didn’t want my help … bid her a good day and went home.
Wow.
It hadn’t dawned on me for even a second, that perhaps she was content in her task.
That perhaps she enjoyed what she was doing.
Or that she knew how much more satisfied she would be when the sun went down, looking out at her weed-free yard, that she had done the work.
I have never forgotten her or that moment.
It was an epiphany of sorts for me.
____________________
I’ve heard people speak of what they would do if they won the lottery:
“I’d give some to my family and friends.”
“I’d buy my children houses.”
“I’d find needy people and help them.”
Help them.
Such a noble and selfless intention – yet …
Don’t we have to be careful who we help and how?
Am I doing it for them or me?
Am I helping? Hindering? Enabling?
Are they making an effort to help themselves? Still have lessons to learn to strengthen them for hard times yet to come?
This comes to mind:
I personally think life IS always beautiful, (maybe not always what you want it to be, but still beautiful) but I agree with the rest.
Struggles do make you stronger. And grateful.
If you just hand someone a house – are they going to cherish it? Will it mean as much to them as it would to someone who saved for years to buy one?
Hand-ups and hand-outs have such a fine dividing line!
It’s hard to know who to help.
Harder still when you don’t know if they’ve struggled – if they are too fragile to have to struggle – if they’ve been put in your path to bestow a blessing on?
Personally, I can look back and I know without doubt, that I am grateful for my struggles.
I’ve been VERY prideful. And I’m trying to get over that and accept help when it makes sense. When the help doesn’t rob me of my spiritual and emotional growth.
Because, my life has blossomed from the weeds.
And I see weeds as blossoms.
Beauty in every thing, every person and every moment.
I’ve learned to focus on these things.
Stay in those moments – no matter how fleeting – to feel them and move forward with a positive attitude and an open mind and heart.
I look upon life with grateful eyes – a students mind and a peaceful heart.
And I’m so glad I struggled.
And I so love those who helped me along the way – and I love those who did not.
Bare footed
Something I had been looking forward to and planning for did not come to pass.
I don’t know how I really feel about that right now, or if I should even be thinking about how I feel.
It seems somehow selfish to be disappointed – sad – confused.
Regardless, there is a sensation in the part of my heart that still believed in fairy tales, akin to having the wind punched out of me.
__________________
My work week had not ended on a high note either – I overheard an inaccurate account of something that I was a part of.
What bothered me most about that was being reminded, once again, that I am naive and gullible when it comes to placing my exuberance and trust into the hands of others.
I forget that.
I think the best of everyone. I don’t expect it, but I give my trust easily.
____________________
So I’m sitting in my little sanctuary – and trying to process the latest news – and I feel numb.
What I know to be true are the following things:
I’ll never stop believing there is good.
I’ll never stop seeing good in others.
I’ll always give the benefit of the doubt to those who may not prove to have deserved it.
I’ll always give those who have given me reason to doubt, a second chance.
I will show up, no matter where it is, with all I have to give. Whether it’s work, friendship, love …
When I ready myself to sleep – I will ask myself if I accomplished those things.
My list of things I’m grateful for, far outweighs any complaints I could write down.
Among them, of course, my son – the irony that the picture I used above is from the song ‘Beautiful Boy’ has not escaped me.
And this phone call – from a dear friend who reached out – to help me process the matter of the heart.
I’m ok.
I know this to be true too.
I am rich with the most important treasures.
And if I am never to have a glass slipper placed on my foot – I will walk bare footed.
2013
Filled with moments I’ve learned to treasure
and to stay in as long as I could
I’ve laughed with my whole heart
lingered there until the last exhale
I learned to cry
to release – but not to wallow
let tears fall … tasted them on my lips
the salt remembered.
Felt with each tick of the clock, page of the calendar
my mortality
life’s frailty
urgency to live
To savor.
My brushes have been wet with color – hands covered with clay
My fingers typed so many words!
some that made a difference
many that did not.
My arms have circled family
friends
felt the warmth of what is truly valuable.
I’ve tasted such wondrous things!
Felt my soul soar to crescendo with arias and duets in my ears
Read books I could not put down
been shown new worlds
new ideas
rhythmic sentences
paralyzing paragraphs
I mourned their completion.
I’ve been enchanted by new love
watched my son fall into it
… for the first time
waves of emotion ebbed and flowed – the mother in me releasing her grasp …
(but never letting go)
I’m allowing hope to spread its wings
bracing myself to be brave
to let change
to let love
to let God
I celebrate with my heart this New Years Eve
not with clinking glass
I celebrate all that was
all that was not
all that will be
I celebrate the student I’ve become
and the mystery that’s me.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
Christmas Eve.
Nic asked me to wake him up this morning, so before I left for work I did just that and was rewarded with a tired hug.
For a moment – a fleeting moment – as I looked at his sleepy face and disheveled hair, I saw my boy.
It’s so odd.
So different.
Gone are the Christmas Eves peppered with ‘Can I open just one??’
Gone are the cookies and milk for Santa.
No more waiting for him to be asleep before tip toeing to his stocking.
No more biting carrots for reindeer and leaving remnants on the porch.
No more sprinkling glitter by a fireplace – leaving footprints in the carpet.
I miss that.
I miss wrapping Lego and Pokemon.
I miss small pajamas.
I miss the smell of his freshly washed hair – of “1,2, threeeee!” As I picked him up, wrapped in an impossibly big towel, out of the tub.
I miss story time and his heavy lids – minty yawns and ‘See you in the morning!’
Today I miss my boy.
But am oh so grateful for the young man who is my son this Christmas Eve.












