Square-Peg Reflections

Underwater

I've been underwater for a couple~few weeks.

It's interesting that water is often associated with emotion (even as far back as Greek philosophy). 

So, like I said, I've been underwater...or it feels that way anyhow. I haven't exactly enjoyed the experience. I'm more comfortable above - because - for one thing, I don't have gills...

Some of the time I've felt like I was swimming - other times I could almost float. But most of the time it's been more like falling in - drowning. At first I tried some things. I mentioned on Twitter that I re-read Tina Mark's Yoga and Depression article. Following the article helped, as it often does. But I was still underwater.

I tried humor - watched funny movies, read from some of my collection of wildly hilarious books. Good - but still underwater. 

Then I decided to just surrender. Not in the way of giving in - more like accepting where I was and going with it. So I stopped fighting and started observing. Rode the underwater streams to the ocean - down down down - grew gills and fins and ohhh, a tail...I'm a mermaid. 

Let me say here - lest you think I've totally lost my mind - I'm talking figuratively, ok? Ok, so back to me turning into a mermaid. Let's be honest - I probably didn't turn into a mermaid - I think I was more like a piranha (ready to bite someone's leg or head off and spit out the bones. Yep, ask the fam...sigh).

Through all that I've had fragments of objectivity (some of the time). Let me say again: this only happened some of the time! I also spent a considerable amount of time griping, moping and even some time crying and...

I think that not fighting the feelings, going with the drowning so to speak - made it possible to be objective (at times - did I mention that this only happened some of the time?).

Being underwater is intriguing (if not fun - and it's NOT fun) - a bizarre baptism. There are some odd sights at the bottom - bright flowers, freakish fish with big eyes - everything go so sllllllllllllllow. 

I realized one day recently that I'm going through a death and rebirth experience. I have no real idea what's dying - and no idea what the rebirth will be about, but within about an hour of having that idea I wound up reading about and hearing about death and rebirth (and all the emotion involved) a few times. Confirmation!

Even though I don't know what the whole thing is about - I know one thing: I'm all for the rebirth part of the cycle - can't wait to see what comes out of that. But the death part - well, I'd like to outsource it! Probably good that I don't have that option. I guess I'd miss something if I successfully avoided the underwater thing.

I don't know how long I'll be underwater, but if you're underwater too (or ever have these experiences) check out this poem (and wave if you swim by me!) - sooooo appropos:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Jelaluddin Rumi

(translation by Coleman Barks)

Thanks, Gaia Community, for the text of the Rumi poem.

The Writing Imp(s)

In The Mindful Woman, Sue Patton Thoele says:

"Whenever I begin to write a book, the imperial imp in charge of writers in early stages of projects sees to think that it would be great fun to have me act, feel, and express exactly the opposite of my current topic."

Well Hell's bells, I know him (imps are hims, right?) - he's been sitting on my shoulder for quite awhile now.

Unfortunately I don't have the good sense that Sue Patton Thoele appears to have. In her book she went on (from the above quote) to explain how that darn imp annoyed her while she was working on each project. And it appeared that 'ole Sue did one project and then another - what a concept!

Me - I've been tackling a few at a time - and the imps are dancing in circles around me (yep, the imperial imp seems to have helpers). I think they're also laughing!

I think my imps are from a different branch though - mine come to call when I'm heading toward the end of a project.

During the past several weeks, while I've been working on a body-awareness/body-mindfulness product (a compliment to Choosing Me!), I've been swimming in shame around the whole body-image thing.

And I picked the same time to transition notes from a fun Square-Peg telecall into a little e-book - sharing tools for taking the negative power out of obligations (or "shoulds", as I call them in the e-book).

So - while working on Droppin' Like Leaves (that's the name of the e-book) I've got imps dancing around me and singing in 3 part harmony. One sings: "You gotta do THIS!" and another: "Ohmyword, you're gonna forget to get to all these!" and the third: "Holy $@#!, you're not working fast enough!" I'm "shoulding" on myself all over the place (or...it's the imps! That's it - it's the imps - I forgot for a minute).

I've got a few smaller things in the works too - so all total I think there are 376 imps assigned to my case. And just like Sue Patton Thoele said - I'm acting, feeling and expressing the exact opposite of everything I'm working on. Ugh! and Sigh! and Holy $@#! (to quote one of my imps).

Again it's the classic case of teaching what you need to know - and I guess it's very obvious that I need to know an awful lot! Sigh again!!

I GET to Pay Bills

I was sick last week (as I mentioned in yesterday's post) - but today I'm almost completely the charming, cheerful me you've come to know and love.

(talk about something to be grateful for!)

For a few days prior to realizing I was sick there was a sharp drop in my cheerfulness. I was Eeyore-ish - but worse - Eeyore's cranky cousin with none of the Donkey family charm.

When I noticed the increase in bitching and complaining I decided to pull the "I get to..." thing out of my bag of tricks. It's a helpful device that shifts the focus from feeling put-upon to realizing that we have choices.

What you do is - take any whiney/complaining statement that you make and turn it around. Restate it as an "I get to..." statement.

I wrote my mayo-sis and told her that for the whole day I planned to change my whines to "I get to..." statements every time I caught myself complaining.

Here's how that went (copied and pasted from notes to my mayo-sister and my journal):

I worked hard to get the newsletter out because it told about the final Body Part Wednesday post and give-away, and I got the d@$# thing done (which was a little tricky coz i'm not used to the new newsletter - this might have been the first one i sent out using the new program) - and the stupid thing didn't GO out when it was supposed to. When I checked on it, expecting that folks had it already, it said it's 'scheduled for a later distribution date' - for no good reason!

(I'm being kind here - copying only a bit of the note to give you the gist - the actual note - as my sister could tell you - went on way longer!)

I caught myself though - I turned it around right in the note - I changed it to:

i GOT to send out a newsletter..tho i've gotten to NOT send them out for such a long darn time..because i GET to be a terrible business woman so..i GET to be pissed that my hard work was for naught

and now i GET to have a headache on top of it...

I GET to be disappointed...

Here are more notes from later in the day:

We went out to the organic market and a thrift store, but I'm feeling sick...

I quickly changed that to:

i GET to feel sick..lol..nasty post nasal drip..sore throat, boo hoo

Then there was:

I GET to pay the effing bills today, when I GET to not be in the mood. 

(Look at that - I started out with the "I get to..." - didn't even need to switch it around)

Yep - I know - I see it too! I took a good idea and messed it up. It's so easy to twist things - even a great plan like an "I get to..." day.

But here's the funny thing - even though I went on and on (and on and on...) like that all day - changing whiney statements to whiney statements that began: "I get to..." - but were still whiney (or maybe a bit angry and whiney), I actually got something good out the deal.

Some of the times I'd start to laugh because I could hear how ridiculous I sounded. And sometimes I just noticed that I was not in a good mood. Noticing is better than not noticing.

And the "I get to..." thing - I've been using it more and it's starting to "take". This morning I was heading to the checkbook to pay bills. That's not usually a gleeful time for me, but I had some positive thoughts: 

• Getting the bills done now means they're off my mind for awhile.
• It's nice that I'm not doing the "rob Peter to pay Paul" thing (there was a time...).
• I'm grateful for so many of the products and services I'm paying for. 

Now look at that! Even Eeyore's crabby cousin can learn new tricks - and put them to good use!!

Life and Death (or: You Just Never Know)

I was crying some serious blues for a day or two (or three or...) awhile back. If I could have harnessed that energy and plugged it into the bass I've been wanting to learn to play - ohmy - I bet I'd be on a concert tour now (ok, maybe not! But at least the moaning would've sounded better coming from the guitar).

There were lots of little things bothering me - all adding up to the big blues moan. The picture (above) is just one of those little things. Actually, it was probably the icing on the cake (we're talking a blechy cake like the one in "Great Expectations" - covered with spiderwebs and dust and mice).

Seeing the tall grass, pictured above, the way it IS pictured above isn't huge, comparatively - but it felt hopeless and huge. This fellow is the one Manchild and I dug up, broke a wheelbarrow over and rolled to his new home gravesite.

He's the grass I talked about in the "Move Your Grass" post, who scratched me and caused me to throw a rock that badly bruised Slightly-Brit's foot. I wanted him to live. I expected him to live. I can't go through that much of a fight without being connected to the outcome! But that plant was downright dead - we half expected vultures.

I was pretty bummed about this guy dying ("from the inside out" - as someone aptly phrased it) and wondered where and when we'd find the time to dig his dead carcass up and say our final goodbyes. Time passed - but we hadn't gotten to the digging when something in his remains happened to catch my eye. It was a bit of green.

I ignored it. I got a little (more) anxious about my sanity because I have an acquaintance who often swears that months-dead (totally belly-up!) plants "...just need a little sun" (or water) - and I was worried that I'd somehow caught Queen-a-da-Nile virus.

So I kept my little discovery to myself (maybe even from myself - I told myself that the light had caught my eye oddly or some similar optical illusion was to blame). I didn't want to mention it, but I did - in a very subtle, careful way. I merely asked Slightly-Brit if she'd noticed "anything recently about our pal, the dead tall grass."

She said "Yes." Verrrry calmly and gently I asked what it was she might have noticed. And she said "Something green - maybe some new growth." Ohmyword, we'd both seen it! It's been a few weeks now and I wish I had a photo to show you. That fellow actually did come back from the dead. Really!

In the middle of my plant-grief and major moan I saw an embroidered saying that read: "It's all good in the end. If it's not good - it's not the end." Something in me loved the sentiment and something in me hated it. "F@#! off" came to mind on the heels of a sweet "ahhhhhhh".

I'm not a fan of hunting for the new growth - the new green parts - in the dead stuff. It feels easier to say goodbye and walk on. And I particularly hate being told to keep smiling (which is how the "If it's not good - it's not the end." can sometimes hit me). But maybe saying goodbye and walking on are part of allowing something to die and then find it's own new life - or ? Or maybe I've got a lot to learn about when to hold on and when to let go...

Effin' Bunny Spot

Look real close - do you see the bunny under the arc of the bush? He's tucked in close to where the stems come out of the earth. You might have to tilt your monitor to get the light "just so" in order to see him - Ok, not that far, he's going to fall out! See him? The picture isn't great (guess who took it? Yours truly!) - but he's there.

And he's there every morning - nestled under the arc - and every morning I have this wistful feeling as I look out at him (or her) from my kitchen window.

He's there when it's rainy (like yesterday - when I took this kinda sucky picture) and he's there when it's sunny. I'm not real sure why he pulls at my heart - maybe because we used to play "house" under a row of scruffy shrubs like that one - way back when I was in elementary school (when we weren't chasing dinosaurs).

Or maybe it's because the bush bends down like a rainbow - and rainbows are so hopeful - or maybe it's something to do with the bunyip looking peaceful. Really, I have no idea - but something in him being there speaks peace to me.

Anyway, yesterday morning as I looked out at him (in a gloomy, whiney, "oh-shit, it's the doldrums" kinda way) I thought: "I wish I had a haven like that!" I envied the little guy his rainbow-shaped peaceful spot.

And then, later in the day, when I was moaning my gloomy, whiney, "oh-shit, it's the doldrums" story to my coach* - and saying I had "no guiding light" and I was "rudderless" (exact words, see how gloomy I get?) - she reminded me of all that I'm in the middle of - and that I am the point person in a number of big areas right now - and she said:
"You are your guiding light, you are the rudder."

I wish I could perfectly describe how she said that - because I imagine that it could come across different in print - than it did hearing it. It might read like: "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, Whiney - and take care of stuff - who do you think is going to fix your life - YOU, Birdbrain!?!" or "Blah, blah blah - poor thang."

But it was neither, it came across like this: "Look! Come here and look at this view I have - I'm seeing this from a different angle and - wow! - it's fantastic!" Which made me think of the window thing I talked about in the I'm Not the Only One post - or mirrors, which I keep thinking of as I work on the Square-Peg-People site (ohman, I'm hoping/expecting/SAYING it's going to be up in June!) - and think about what I want the site to do - which is, be a mirror to people - a reminder of their real selves.

And so, as I uploaded the bunny pictures that I took - and picked out the one where you only have to squint for about 15 minutes and tilt your monitor and turn out all the lights in the room and squint some more in order to see the bunny (which was, by far, the best shot I had!) I got hit by the realization that I not only do have a rudder and a guiding light, but I also have a bunny spot - in my heart!

Which sounds maybe a bit too cutesy, so let me say it differently: Fuck! (takes the cutesy edge off a bit, what)  It's like I "get" the phrase "The Kingdom of Heaven is within." - and I'm thinking of someone's (maybe my favorite author, F. Buechener??) having said "where we're usually too damn dumb to look."

Cool!

 *the world's best coach, btw, Jenny Effing Ryan - "Effing" really is her middle name - nah, just kidding about the "Effing" - but totally serious about the world's best.

Photo credit: ace photographer (Not!) Karen Caterson

Joy and Sorrow

Slightly-Brit, Manchild and I wandered (vehicularly) over and through the gorgeous hills of Bucks and Berks Counties over the weekend - getting him to and from his Quaker Youth gathering.

The green colors (how many?) that were exploding all over took my breath away - in a good way. The horrific accidents we came up behind on the trip out took my breath away as well - but not in a good way. Tears ran down my face before we even got close to seeing the devastation - the horror was palpable, even from a distance.

I kept wondering about joy and sorrow - I'm still wondering about them. How they can be so close to each other, how I can feel them each so deeply - how is it that we can live (how do we/how can we live with both!?!). For a minute, just for a minute - as we passed the mangled mess on the way out to Manchild's event (not knowing we'd pass another on the way home from dropping him off) I wished for the tight heart, the armoring I had when I was in my late teens.

The hurt I felt as the tears were running down my face was immense. And I choked out some questions like the ones above - about how the hell we CAN hold both the glory and the pain...I was trying to figure out how we can hold them both at once. 

Um - maybe we can't. Maybe I was looking for an elusive balance thing - in each moment - that isn't available. I did draw my breath in over and over at the beauty different times as we drove. The farms with their beautifully laid out fields. The innumerable shades of green going over a hill and into a valley. Even the two-headed horse (ok, that was an optical illusion - one horse behind the other - from far away).

I drew my breath in again with sorrow when we saw another mangled mess - and again, when we were home and Slightly-Brit learned that her paternal grandmother had passed away suddenly.

So I did all that breath drawing, but not for both joy and sorrow at exactly the same time. Is it even possible? I doubt it. Just the heart jolt of either one is huge! How can our hearts hold so much?

Maybe, as someone mentioned to me in a note, the sorrow actually makes the joy fuller - even more beautiful. Or maybe it's all an illusion like the two-headed horse. I don't know - the only thing I do know is that I would choose the open heart over the closed one (I have made that choice) -- but I still prefer the green fields of joy better than the sorrow of grief.

Old Bear

I didn't post yesterday, I was too stressed. And it's only gotten worse!!

The "problem" is not really that big of a deal - it's a broken oil burner. Not like it's the middle of winter or anything - now that would be a problem.

We had that problem many, many years ago - and had to have the heater replaced (but not before I'd amassed blankets, pillows and my two girls - Manchild had not even been thought of yet - huddled us together and prepared to freeze to death on the living room floor - really!).

I guess you could say, when I tell you how I'm freaking out this time, that I'm doing better.

But not so much - sigh. I'm hyper and short tempered...Imagine an old, lame bear with a toothache, who wound up getting into someone's caffeine stash and you might come close to my mood/behavior. Except I'm not that old (right!?!), I'm not covered in fur and my teeth are fine. Well, I did kinda/sorta have more coffee than I should have. Ok, the point is - in general I'm like the old, lame, toothachey, excessively caffeinated bear.

Which is not pretty! But word has it that the burner fixer dude, who has proved himself a magician through the years, is on his way (our oil burner controls our hot water for heating and our regular hot water) - so it may be time for rejoicing (and a long stress-relieving soak) soon!

A Gutter in the Islands

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

Oscar Wilde

I've always loved this quote of Oscar Wilde's - mostly, I guess, because it puts us all on one plane. Like "we're all bozos on this bus" - the idea/the fact that we are all not-so-perfect and in somewhat of a pickle. But we can choose where we focus (which is not the same as saying it's wise to pretend we're not IN the gutter).

Since I've felt  "in the gutter" lately - having that feeling somewhat normalized works for me. And it got me thinking. About feelings, about stars, about up and down. When the quote came to my mind earlier today my first thought was - the stars are pretty dim right now.

Then I started thinking about seasons - ebb and flow - the wheel of life card in a Tarot deck. How things don't stay the same - what's up will go down, what's down will go up. Spring follows Winter. And that got me thinking about spending time on Bimini when I was a kid - the islands are NOT subject to the same kind of Winter as my heart and the Eastern side of the U.S..

And I decided that - emotionally - I'd like an island life. I'd like sun all the time. I'd like to have to look at postcards to see emotional snow (what would those postcards be like? Variations on Munch's The Scream or something much milder? I guess it'd depend on what kind of storm was blowing through.).

Then, throughout the day, I kept getting hits of grace - messages from friends that were perfectly timed, a couple blogs with posts that touched on exactly what I was feeling, a YouTube link with a song that sang right to my heart, and more of that reading thing - where the veil was lifted. Whew!

I started the day still sunk in Winter, but I'm ending it feeling Spring warmth heading this way. And - except for a few really sad and sorry moments this past week - I have felt connected through it all. To myself, the Beloved (Universe, Source, Inner Self, God - whatever works for you) and the people I love. So - I'm feeling a little more appreciative of whatever season I'm in - (which is a little easier to say when you can feel the warmth of Spring) - and maybe ready to accept the seasonal flow...

So - maybe just lengthy vacations in the islands?

Beauty in the Dark

Today was a pouty day - no Little Princess (it's time for our 2-day visit) - no call, no way to get in touch - sigh! I have no way of knowing when I'll hear, or when/if she'll get to visit next - so I was pretty bummed.

I decided to hop over to Brené Brown's blog, Ordinary Courage, because I needed one of the  transfusions of  hope and openness she seems to give in her writing. Today was no exception. I read a post and came away feeling better - ready to do something different - ready to get out of the rut of fear and sadness.

I checked with Slightly-Brit and Manchild, and they were up for a ride - so we took a long drive by the river - lovely. And we listened to The Raconteurs loud - which is always a joy. "Carolina Drama" makes me laugh, and the music in all the songs is top shelf!

Funny, I've mentioned music (and it's ability to change your world) about 6,000 times lately - and it's Slightly-Brit who's the High Priestess of Music, not me...

The point of this post was not what I've been doing today - though of course one must please the public (yes, I'm kidding!). The point was to point you to Brené Brown's blog post because it's an opportunity - she's considering doing a read-through of her beyond awesome book I Thought It Was Just Me on the blog, and has asked for input about whether people are interested.

If you've ever dealt with shame (that's all of us!) then you'll probably be interested! Plus, in the post, she talks about how things went for her related to the publishing of the book. Interesting reading even if you are only interested in hearing about the publishing world. But particularly interesting for reading how Brené dealt with her feelings related to the ups and downs of publishing the book. Go look!

It's Friday the 13th and Frederick is Dead

Frederick, the snowman - who can be seen in all his glory here - is gone. He left only a hat. Even the little bit of snow in the picture above is gone - the picture was taken a week ago. So, you might wonder, why bring up Frederick's passing now?

Just feeling gloomy and wanted to share.

Today was the end of Little Princess' visit and she did not want to leave - we had one of those times that might look amusing on TV - the kid running away while the folks are trying to get her in the car (repeatedly), taking off the seatbelt (repeatedly), screaming, etc. - but which, I can guarantee you was not  fun in any sense in real life.

Totally - painfully - tearfully - NOT fun. The kind of not fun that makes me wish I had Sylvia Plath's nerve (but, since I was brought up Missouri Synod Lutheran -  even thinking about thinking about being sick and tired of life feels like I'm growing red horns).

You know what? You can tell I feel better because if I was still feeling jealous of Sylvia Plath and Frederick I wouldn't be writing. I am feeling a little bit better (and probably not because I spent two hours lying in bed watching an old Judy Dench TV show called "Fine Romance" after gobbling up half the pantry to stuff my feelings down).

I'm feeling better because of friends. I guess I'm not a fast learner - it's taken me a tremendous long time to realize how much I need people - but I know it now - and I am so grateful for the people in my life. Having people who will share their hardships, listen to mine, hold me and my loved ones in the Light when we're stuck in the dark - Priceless (to quote the commercial).

Because of friends I looked at the dead Frederick picture above and thought for a second about Spring - how green and gorgeous it's going to be. And not because someone said to me "Hey, look at the bright side." or "God (the Universe, the Source, your Higher Power or Chuck Norris) only gives you what you can handle". But, because they listened - gave me space to feel - even when the feelings they sat with me in were pain and frustration.

No Disney ending here. Nothing looks like happily ever after at the moment. But left foot, right foot - taking one step at a time is good enough right now.

Since I mentioned Sylvia Plath I must tell you a family story. When my middle child learned about Sylvia Plath's suicide she was horrified. Not just by the loss and the emotional pain the woman was obviously in - but more so by the brutality of it. My daughter grew up in a house with an electric kitchen. Her visual of someone putting their head in an oven made no sense - electric oven - you'd just get really hot. So she figured out that the poet had to have put her head in the oven and then repeatedly struck herself with the oven door. Ouch!