If you tell someone your wish, it won't come true.
There were many, seemingly insignificant, things I was told as a child growing up, many ideas I acquired along the way, many beliefs I seem to have infused into my life. I'm not even sure where I got some of them.....maybe even seem some kind of collective consciousness or maybe I even made them up? (I was told I had an active imagination)
There are also some messages, "old tapes", chatter, etc. that I have noticed in my thought process. I have even allowed this negative noise to affect what I do or don't do, often without even realizing it. Now that I am more of an observer, more conscious, I am aware of these things as they pop up or as I discover them underneath what is going on in my life. There is strength in this awareness. This unnecessary stuff in my head no longer has power over me.
I used to spend a lot of time trying to figure out who, when, where it all came from, but that's what I did....spent a lot of time!! I still give it some thought....hmmmmm...wonder where that came from??? However, it is no longer necessary for me to dig around endlessly to find the root of a thing. In the present, I can choose whether or not it still applies to me. I can choose whether or not it assists me any longer. I can choose whether or not I believe it. I can decide. I Can Honor My Truth!
I am going to explore all of this here and why not have some fun with it!
If you tell someone your wish, it won't come true. I have even caught myself thinking or even saying this one. You might laugh but, I have made a wish and thought twice about telling someone what it is. Goofy, huh. Hey and guess what.....not that long ago. It has lingered with me as an adult. Ok, so there, I told ya. It's the truth.
I believe one should make their dream known. Our wishes, our dreams are part of who we really are......make them known. Honor Your Truth!
Tree found in the house of a woman that appears to be growing money! It may resemble an ordinary pine tree but we witnessed $100 bills emerging endlessly from the branches. It is quite amazing! The woman states that she merely tended to it daily, like anyone would who wanted something to grow and prosper would. She gives it water, food, love…all the things it requires to flourish.
I believe money can grow out of anything we are passionate about….anything we love doing. If I focus my attention on how I can be of service.....if I nourish the dream.....it will yield what I require to keep the dream alive.
I heard it said in my family that “maybe we are a family that isn’t supposed to have money” as if this would be a part of Gods plan…..not to have money. I also heard “money isn’t good for us” as if this is also some kind of protection from God. We would surely get into “trouble” if we had money. These things do not make sense to me. There is a world of good that one can do with money. I don’t think I need to have money in order to be of service. However, there are many ways I can be of service with money. I can even assist others to be of service with more money.
I believe in prosperity. I believe in abundance. Even if I am wrong, and I don’t think I am, let me be wrong. Let me err on the side of believing that it is available to everybody who so desires it. I would rather believe that anything is possible rather than limit myself by deciding what’s not. I have all that I need in this moment. I do not focus my attention on what I’m gonna get, but what I love…what I am passionate about. I then ask myself the question, “How can I add value to my dream, how does it serve people?” How can I best Honor My Truth!
My house was loud growing up…..really loud. It was a blast! My Mom always said "no other kids fight like you do!" There were 4 girls a year apart and then my brother came 1-1/2 years later. I also have a sister who is 20 years younger than me, but she is not responsible for any kind of volume in the mix. She primarily grew up like an “only child”. My mom was undeniably the minority in the household. If you looked in “Moms Drawer”, I am certain you’d have found some ear plugs next to the “wooden spoon”. She would tell us to “keep it down” all the time. We would for a brief time and then go right back to what we were doing. I am the oldest, so I was told to behave because everyone would copy me. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for my mother. I would try to be quiet, but I could never win. She would always say to me “its not that your voice is too loud, it’s just that it carries” I could never figure out how to stop it from carrying.
God Love my Mom. I don’t know how in the world she survived, let alone raise some pretty decent children. Holy Cow! I can’t even keep track of a few older nieces and nephews while shopping at Target….and to keep them quiet…..ah, no way….they are running and screaming through the aisles. I just try not to lose one of them. I don’t really remember but knowing my mother, I am sure she tried anything and everything to keep us under some kind of reasonable control. One of the things I remember hearing was that “children should be seen and not heard” My grandma probably said it to my mother, who then said it to us. Who knows how many generations it has been passed down?
I know it was not meant to, or I believe it wasn't meant to be taken quite as literally as I have portrayed here. However, I wonder if it sinks in, sneaks in and hides unnoticed. Does it then contribute to the “noise in the head”, the chatter, the “old tapes”…….perfectionism. Interesting, who knows for sure. Today, I can observe my thoughts. I can decide if they are of any use to me anymore…….if they still fit me. Today, if someone did tell me, hey, you should be seen and not heard…I’d examine my surroundings, and see if that’s true for me. For example, am I in a movie theater? I Trust that I will do the right thing. I will Honor My Truth!
“If you don’t wash and brush your hair everyday, spiders will make a web in it”
I remember my Mom telling me this and I remember where I was too. I was standing in the kitchen by the junk drawer where she kept the hairbrush. It was pink and it was a Goody. You know the kind. “DON’T TAKE” was written in black marker on the handle. It was attached to the drawer by a long string. It was a long string because you weren’t supposed to brush your hair in the kitchen. You had to go around the corner where the mirror was hanging in the hall. Brushes and scissors were always on a string. Somehow they would still end up lost, but not quite as often. When you have a house full of so many girls, the brush is an ongoing issue. Shampoo. Shampoo was Herbal Essence…the green kind. I think that was all they had back then, the green kind with the flowery bottle. Later, we moved on to Suave…..but I’m not when.
I never questioned anything my mother said. She knew so many things and she was a lot bigger and older than me. I was extremely traumatized by the idea of spiders in my hair. I don’t like spiders. Daddy Long Legs do not make sense to me. They are very strange. How do they live? I don’t get it? A little round thing, kinda like a piece of fuzz with legs. Eeeeeww My grandmother got bitten on the nose while gardening by some kind of spider. My mom told me it was poisonous, but she didn’t know what kind. I had learned about the dreaded “Black Widow” in school so I assumed that’s what it was.
.
Some time after that, we visited the same grandparents for a vacation. They lived in Tucson, Arizona. I remember being certain I was going to be bit by a spider. Even more frightening, it would be a black widow. I thought about this non-stop. I worried about it before we even got near their house. You gotta understand, I was sure. When I found out we were sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags, I was terrified. Somehow I knew sharing this fear with anyone else, was not an option. I had shared fears of mine before and been met with a response that didn’t quite work for me. I also knew it was kind of ridiculous. Yet, I couldn’t seem to let it go.
I had a dream about a spider up in the corner. It spun a web like a strawberry curl. I was reading the “Secret Garden” at the time. I think there is a line in that book that says “a lock of hair like a strawberry curl” or something. I don’t know exactly, but I put it all together… Corner, Curl, Web, Spider, and Me. I have always remembered that dream......weird as it may seem……the spider in the strawberry curl…..always up in the corner waiting to get me………if I didn’t wash and brush my hair.
I thought this was true for I don’t know how long. However, despite all these fears and warnings, I currently wash my hair every week or two. It depends. Generally, it doesn’t get dirty very fast. I think it used to at first. I don’t know. I can’t remember. I think I read somewhere that it isn’t healthy for your hair to wash it everyday…..but to each his own. Based on my experience so far, odds are pretty good that a spider will not spin a web in it. I am going to Honor My Truth. If it ever happens, I’ll let you know.
I just want to tell you here that I have no idea how it was discovered that the planet earth was indeed round……no idea. I don’t remember even having history at St. Michaels. However, I can’t imagine that we didn’t. After grade school, I attended a public high school which was classified “experimental”. It was the seventies. I don’t know if that explains anything. What I do know is there were hardly any walls in our school. We had big areas with a few orange colored partitions like large cubicles. Crossover between classes was a continuous issue. If one was out of control, they were all off the hook. Without separation to contain and maintain any level of sanity, it was often complete mayhem.
The teachers couldn’t all talk at once, so we were on the “packet system”. Teachers handed out packets at the beginning of the quarter. We turned them in at the end and took a test. Other than that, we were pretty much on our own. They’d come around sometimes and check our progress, answer questions. Every now and then, they would throw a pop quiz at us. During finals, there was a class by class procession to a special testing area downstairs. I can picture the woman who monitored us. She never smiled, but it had to be a pretty boring job. I don't know how much I truly retained beyond turning in my pencil and handing over the test.This school eventually closed for many reasons, but I was already gone. They bussed kids to Central.
All of this may or may not be the cause for my lack of knowledge concerning historical facts. I do care and I am curious, but in the interest of time, I choose to prioritize. I have good intentions but there are only so many hours in any given day. Now, I know the earth is round, but up until some point in time, people did not know this. They thought if you walked a little too far, you would fall off the edge. It was a process of courage, discovery, trust, acceptance and action. The courage to wonder, discovering the truth, trusting their perception, accepting how it affected them, and taking action based on this information.
My life continues to revolve….evolve. My perception can and does change. If I gather new information or learn something new about myself, I can do things differently if I choose to. I have learned to trust my perception in the moment. I am also conscious enough to recognize when it has made a shift. In some instances, this may require humility. Truth is more important then pride. I feel weird otherwise and I don’t sleep well. It is kinder to both myself and other people, if I Honor My Truth! So, I am working on it, one day at a time.
You may not want to know this….so stop here if you don’t. However, if you are anything like me, you are still reading. Curiosity killed the cat…didn’t you know that? One day, I will explore just why it killed the cat. It doesn’t seem quite right, now does it? Technically speaking, I don’t believe it did anything to the cat, but I’ll check it out. I wrote it down, so be looking for an episode when I may have some answers for you.
What the heck…why is there a “w” in answers…look at it. Who put it there? It doesn’t make sense…like comb or gnaw. It threw me for a loop and I couldn’t figure out how to spell it. It’s a trick. I am continuously searching for answers. As if when I get them, I will escape any and all maladies, terror, and tears. Sometimes just when I think I got it, there is a “w” hiding somewhere. Even when faced with this potential danger, I don’t want to run and hide, I still want to know the truth. Somehow knowing it sets me free.
This is good news believe it or not….that I would rather know the truth above all. Even though I may fear the truth, I still believe I can handle it. I believe I can make it through any possible pain or grieving. I believe that ultimately, I will be ok. The time between having a sense of what’s going on and finding out what is really going on…..is the hardest. Waiting for the truth is excruciating. This is partially due to the “noise in my head”, the chatter that comes up with endless possible scenarios, verdicts, answers with a “w”. The more I am in the practice of letting go, the easier the waiting. Acceptance…it is what is. I show up, I’m real, I let go. Period.
So getting back to Friday, cats, fear, luck and the number 13……here is the truth. Try as I may, I cannot escape Friday the 13th anymore than I can escape any other day of the week, nor would I want to. They come, they go. I laugh. I cry. I do my best. No matter how careful I am not to step on a crack or under a ladder, stuff happens. If I sit around and wait 7 years for bad luck to come, I’m sure I’ll find it somewhere. If I don’t have a “lucky” day today….tomorrow I may think it was lucky based on new information. If you read Episode Five, you know what I’m sayin’. The truth is I never know what is going to happen so why not think positively. Beyond honoring my truth, I can't control anything anyway. Happy Friday the 13th! Honor Your Truth!
“If you love somebody set them free, if they come back, they are yours forever, if they don’t, they never were”
I counted my boyfriends once and it was scary. I am the quintessential serial monogamist. I remember my Dad sitting me down in my early 20’s and telling me, “What you don’t understand is that you will learn to love him” ……so why not pick the one with money. He was speaking specifically about the boyfriend who was a rich, rock star type boyfriend. Not only was he the super cool boyfriend, he was very good to me. Everyone in my family was disappointed when I broke up with him. I think my brother was most upset, but he never said anything to me. He was in high school at the time. He and his buddies went to every single concert there ever was in the area….backstage passes, everything. Can you imagine? Aside from all of the “perks”, he was caring and funny. We all genuinely did and still do love him. It was down home at the Hadraba house. Every time I visit my family…and I really do mean every time….my Dad asks me if I have talked to him.
I fell out of “love” with him. He was a workaholic. He was afraid of intimacy. This is just what I think. Most of my friends consider me doctor-like. After any given diagnosis, I say “I am a doctor, you know” and they never seem to argue. I am known as the “psychiatrist on staff” most everywhere I have worked. I am familiar with every anti-depressant known to medical people, but that is another story. If there is such a thing as past lives, I was a doctor unless I was a criminal. It is also entirely possible that I was a criminal which would explain my intense feelings of guilt. I think my parents secretly hope there is such a thing as past lives so I would stop blaming my Catholic upbringing. Unfortunately, they can’t really pass the buck to a past life because it is in conflict with their religion.
I am probably not that unique and everyone is like this……I have great insight into other peoples love lives, but not so much into my own. Well, I have the insight, but I am often too paralyzed to use it wisely. I give super guidance that I am often unable to follow, as much as I might want to. My closer friends have accused me of this and you know what….they are right! I have heard myself say “I don’t know what to do” far too many times where relationships are concerned. I feel like a broken record. Even God is probably sick of me. If I do know what to do, it takes me forever to do it. I keep waiting to be sure and of course I never am. I am back to considering every possible angle in an attempt to avoid any pain……like I said in my article, “Making Decisions and the Hair Dryer”
I had 2 boyfriends once. I liked them both for different reasons. Not unlike any other situation, I did not know what to do. My sister, who is 20 years younger, was like 7 at the time. I asked her. I asked her everything. She said Beedee (the name my family calls me), “Dump ‘em both” Yes, that is seriously what she said. She is a genius. She is getting her doctorate in psychology. Currently, she is a middle school counselor. Can you dig it?
I can look around for advice, I can ask all my family, my friends, I can go to a therapist, I can consult my horoscope, a psychic, or the stars…..but the real answers are within me. If I get quiet enough to listen, I can hear. Eventually, I trust myself. It just takes me sooooo long. I started practicing with the smaller things. Love is trickier. I trust the process and I am learning faster now. I can Honor My Truth!
I was at Office Max. I had to get paper for the printer, manila envelopes, and post-its. I simply cannot buy the original post-its. The pastel yellow reminds of hospitals and classrooms…..can’t do it. I’m looking for the cube. Every time I go to get a new cube, there is a new color combination I have to contend with. I wish I had a favorite stack, one that went with my office well, but I don’t. Depending on my mood and the time I have available, it could take me a while to decide. Have you noticed how many sizes, shapes, and colors there are?
Much of the stuff we buy now seems to have become designer, even post-its. It all becomes an extension of ourselves, attempting to say something about us, if we view it that way. Ask my girlfriend. She is a photo stylist. There is designer everything except one thing, but pretty soon that will be designer too. We are going to make it. We even have the catchy name. She swears we are going to make a million dollars. This would be good because neither of us has rich families or rich husbands. If we would have seen a gold finch yesterday, on Valentines Day, we would be marrying a millionaire soon. I didn’t see one. I asked her and she didn’t see one either. Therefore, we made a joint decision to really get going on the research for our project. We could probably live out our days yakking away on a park bench, but we got plans sister.
She made me promise not to tell anyone the idea. In this particular case, she tells me it is good to keep it between her and I. Keep it on the down-low. She has her finger on the pulse of these kinds of things, trends and what not. She knows me. It is always hard for me to keep a secret when I am excited. I am kind of a blabbermouth. Not with personal stuff, but historically with something like this, it was near to impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. I used to need someone to confirm that it was a good idea. Just another example of how I didn’t trust myself. Geez Louise!! How annoying. Today I feel annoyed by this and want to blame someone, but then that never helped me. I simply had to change.
When I am changing something, I vacillate between the full blown new me and the same old, same old. It just is what it is. If I expect to become an overnight success story, I set myself up to give up. I have to accept the period of transition. I cannot do it perfectly. If I revert back to the old way for a moment, a day, or a week, I just turn around again. The more times I turn around, the more momentum I gain in the new direction. It really is that simple.
I thought about all this wandering the aisles of Office Max. Very kind Office Max people kept asking me if I needed any help. I was tempted to ask them if they had any “blankety-blank” and then have them say, “WOW! No we don’t, but that’s a great idea” but I bit my tongue. Today is a good day. I am changing what I want to change. I can trust myself. I can and do Honor My Truth!
“The only sleep that really matters is the sleep you get before midnight”
If this is really true then I can get back in bed right now. I have a lot of catching up to do. I can get back into bed and I should sleep all day. I have earned plenty of naps. Naps are my favorite. If I understand correctly, since it is sleep before 12, it all counts towards my beauty sleep. When I wake up, I can have a cup of coffee. I can have that first cup of coffee, twice a day. Some days, I just want a do-over. Now having remembered this advice, there is a way to justify any sleep with the parental A-OK. I still want them to think I am doing what I am supposed to be doing, whatever that is. I am kind of kidding, kinda serious, as usual.
I used to sleep walk. I would freak out my sisters. They would wake up with me in their face, screaming something like “give me the ball back, just give me the ball” This really happened. I woke my sister up yelling, “give me the ball”. She didn’t know quite what to do seeing as she had no ball at the time. She told me that I calmly went and sat down on the end of her bed. Having no experience with sleepwalking at all, this must have been quite disturbing.
One time my Dad came downstairs for some reason only to find me sitting in the living room chair in the dark. He said, “What are you doing, it’s 3 am?” I told him, “I’m just thinking”. He said I could think in bed. However by then it was pretty clear that I was “different” so he probably shrugged his shoulders and went off to bed. Many years prior to that I woke up in basement somewhere in the middle of Act 2 of “The Sound of Music” I was playing Gretl, the youngest of the Von Trapp family. I was in first grade and this was a high school play with the big kids. We often rehearsed way past my bedtime and I was “burning the candle at both ends” as my mom would put it. I was tired. Mr. Shomas, the director, had warned my parents about this, but I wanted to do it so badly. I had no idea what plays were so I don’t know why, but I did. I slept walked so much they ended up putting a chair in front of my bedroom door. However, I moved the chair and continued on down to the basement. As soon as I woke up, of course, I was terrified and ran up the stairs. Half asleep, I couldn’t quite operate the door and was on the other side of it in a complete state of panic.
My Dad came to rescue me and I remember him carrying me back to bed. I wished it took longer than it did. He was always working and often out of town. He was a prime example of the quintessential “traveling salesman”. I don’t know if they still have those. He is still one, but I think he is a bit of a dinosaur in the world of business. He still packs up a suitcase and goes out “on a call” I remember one time he brought dolls back for each of us. He laid them at the foot of our bed. They were kind of like Spanish dancers. I think he was in Mexico, but I’m not sure. He was already gone again when we woke up to find them. When he carried me upstairs, it was a safe and comforting feeling. Could it be that I was trying to recreate this experience time and time again? Sleepwalk my way to a normal childhood. I don’t know. It does sound romantic, in a way.
If I am tired, I will sleep. If I am not, I will stay up. This is what I do. I may get on more of a “normal schedule” one day, I may not. For now, it works for me. I Honor My Truth!
In the garage at my parent’s house, you can still get your hands on the ice that builds up in the small freezer box inside the refrigerator. If you open it up, it is filled with something similar to hard frozen snow, but it’s not snow. It’s an old refrigerator that looks similar to an Airstream mobile home. Luckily I know it’s not and don’t attempt to jump into it. One time I was figuring out a performance for my small theater in Chicago. It was called “COLD”. I had the brilliant idea of popping out of the refrigerator. I had to see if I could fit inside, close the door, and maintain the element of surprise. I took everything out of it, shelves and all. It only occurred to me as I was just about to close the door….that no one was around to open it. It was one of those moments when one small decision could change the course of your entire life. In this case, it would have been a swift about face back to Jesus.
My parents have the extra frig strictly for soda, beer, and 2 box o’ wines…one zinfandel for my Mom, one burgundy for Dad. There is a sack of cornmeal from the Old Graue Mill, lemon juice concentrate, cranberry sauce, bacon fat, and olives. These are the constants. Other odds and ends come and go, but nothing you could really eat, except for the ice. I am not sure why, but I have no ice build-up in my current freezer. I think it is self defrosting, but it’s just a guess. A good guess, but a guess nonetheless. You’d think I would know these things since I did buy the frig myself, but I don’t. Growing up, we always had a lot of ice build up in our freezer. I seem to remember the defrosting process being quite an ordeal. My mom always said that the ice build-up was a direct result of us opening and closing the door too much. I don’t think they had self-defrosting back then and although we accepted the blame, it didn’t stop us from constantly standing there with it open. Hence, the freezer snowstorm abounded, fast and furious.
I know I wasn’t into eating the ice, for sure. I know one of us kids used to eat it, but it wasn’t me. I was afraid I might get pneumonia. I didn’t know what it was, but it sounded bad enough for me to want to avoid it. I was afraid most of my childhood. As far back as I can remember, I was stuck in anticipation of the awful…..always waiting for the next “shoe to drop”. I wonder if one of the primary components of procrastination is fear. In fact, I am sure it is. Fear that the experience is going to be uncomfortable or even painful, fear that I won’t do something right, or perfect, fear, fear, fear! Fear is so often about something that has not even happened and may never happen. This seems so unnecessary, but yet so difficult to overcome.
Fear holds the illusion of protection. Somehow if I am always “on guard” nothing can touch me. This type of fear could prevent me from moving forward. It fosters so many reasons why I might put something off for a day, a year, a lifetime. Often times what lies underneath each and every reason, even the seemingly logical ones, is fear. I find it kinda sad. I have spent a lot of time analyzing it, shaking it up and down. I don’t want to allow it to stop me anymore. Allow it to keep me saying “one day” I will do blankety-blank. “One day” I will do X, Y, or Z. “One day” I will say what I feel, do what I love, be who I am. I don’t want to wait here any longer for the fear to go away so I can make my move. I act my way to freedom. I Honor My Truth!
I was lying in bed this morning listening to the beep, beep, beep of an alarm…not my alarm….I refuse to claim this alarm. It is a new digital picture clock that is somehow set for 8 am. I can’t figure out how to change the time. It was on clearance and didn’t come with any instructions…one of those “As Is” deals. It is in my bathroom so I have to get up to turn it off. Why I don’t just unplug it for now is beyond me. I listened to the drone of constant beeping for almost 2 hours…….only slightly more appealing than dragging myself out of bed.
The noise was quieter, less grating than the noise in my head…..the endless chatter of fear and doubt. Whas up? I ask myself. While lying there in bed, I was thinking…thinking about my life and this idea that the truth will set us free. I believe the truth does set one free. Why then does something that I have always believed all of the sudden seem foreign and strange? I don’t even know what to say about it. I think this happens when I am about to have a deeper understanding of a concept. The level of understanding in the moment is not congruent with the shift that is happening inside.
In the past few days, I have been off kilter….out of whack. I had a check up recently and the doctor just phoned to tell me I am seriously low in Vitamin D. It is so low that I actually require a prescription. Could this be why? Or, is it the glitches in my life……little places where I am not honoring my truth. A “truth glitch” is a place in my life where what’s inside doesn't match what’s outside. I’d like to blame it all on the Vitamin D deficiency which of course caused the glitch, which in turn caused my whackedness. It’s the chicken and the egg concept. I simply swig down a vitamin with some water and I’ll be telling it like it is all over the place. In the event this is actually the case, I am going to fill it immediately.
However, more than likely, it’s that darn fear again. Hello. How ya’ doin’? Sometimes, I have to swirl the truth around a bit before I put it out there……practice acceptance of where I’m at today and let it gather what it needs to stand alone. While I am not an advocate of blurting out every feeling I have when I have it, I am able to conceal the truth less and less with any degree of sanity. I ask myself questions like…Is this necessary? Is this helpful? If so, I speak my truth. But Dagnabbit, I played along the past few days. I wasn’t ready, I felt afraid, and I acted as if all was hunky dory, business as usual. I am happy to report that apparently that doesn’t work for me anymore. I feel funky. This is the time. This is the place. I Honor My Truth!
Back in 1991, I had a flood in my apartment. I was living in Chicago in the basement of a 2flat. I lost nearly everything. I remember standing there alone in the middle of this terrible storm, watching as the water rose over my feet and started climbing up my legs. It was a torrential downpour outside and the drains in the street were clogged with leaves. I was on the phone with my mom, scared and crying. I had just gotten a divorce the year before and I felt like my whole life was disappearing. I even remember saying that I felt as if my spirit was dying. The final straw was the drowning of my physical stuff. If it wasn't soaking wet, it smelled and was a mildewy yuck. I had a large box full of memories in my storage area on the floor, most of which was completely ruined. Whatever I could salvage, I put in a trunk. I sold my guitars and all my equipment, even the gentlest reminder of who I was, and I moved to Minnesota soon thereafter.
I told very few people my story. I never spoke about my past. No one knew I was an artist, a musician and a writer. They new me as the “artistic type” They would say ooh you’re so creative. I would say “thank you” as if I had never heard that before. I don't remember exactly when or how I completely stopped being me, but I did. My passion for anything, including life, began to dwindle. I seriously felt I knew nothing about myself anymore. I couldn't tell you what I liked to eat, to wear, or to do. I have a few pictures of me during that time. I look tired and a lot older. I am always wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, always.
I had taken a job that I said I would never do again…..waiting tables. Before I knew it, I was the GM. I’m a “hard worker” and have defined myself by this. Sure, I’m good at it, I enjoy it, but I can do it in my sleep. I’m creative. I leave my mark on a place and it’s never the same once I leave. It’s been fun, it’s been real, but here I am the general manager again and I’m wondering, “How did this happen?” I said I wasn’t going to do this. Yes, I learned and earned a living, but I had a gnawing sense of emptiness. I couldn’t even listen to music anymore because it was too painful. In the restaurant business, there is a term called “turn and burn”. It means that you are whipping through the tables, one after another, you get the money, and move on to the next. It is a mindless process….like a machine and that’s what I felt my life was like…..turning and burning. What started out as my “fall-back plan” became “the plan”.
Recently, I had the puzzle pieces of my life strewn all over my kitchen table. It was 3 am and I was going through some old photographs and what not I had saved in that trunk years ago. I never looked in there because though never forgotten, these were times long gone. I was having revelation after revelation because it was like discovering I had another lifetime, another me. I imagine it could be similar to the experience of finding out you have a twin somewhere else in the world. This was some other person who went away and left only a faint shadow behind. That was then and this is now, almost 15 years later.
While ruffling through this trunk, I came across something that I had written for a booklet that someone put together for a “Swing Choir” reunion. I don’t remember when the reunion was….I think it was in 1989 or 90. We each wrote a little something about what we had been up to lately. I closed my statement by saying “I have done a lot of waiting tables and living hand to mouth, but I’ve done a lot of performing too, more than anything, I write.” I just stood there. I had to read it again and again. It was right there in print and in my own words. I’m a writer. I enjoy writing. I always have. This is not new. It is a part of me that I had let go of…..and by choice?!?!
Just like I chose to let go of what I truly felt a passion for, I can choose to reclaim it. It’s always been mine and it still is. We all have a passion and a purpose deep within our soul……a reason for being here. It resonates through and with the action we take from the inspiration we receive. I chose not to act on that inspiration anymore and little by little, it withered away. I then chose to reclaim it by taking one simple step back towards it. That’s what I’ve done. You can too. Honor Your Truth!
“The personality now includes the virtual personality”
My entire family gathers at my parent’s house for Christmas. It is a week long event that ends sometime after New Years Day. I think I have 12 or 13 nieces and nephews. I lost count when my youngest sister had twins last year. I cannot fully describe the experience. You sleep wherever you can...one year I woke up underneath the kitchen table if that tells you anything. Just a few years ago, we were all sitting around in the living/dining room. Everyone was knitting and I mean everyone, even my nephew, who was a teenager. It was the “Year of Knitting”. We made our usual scene at the store making sure everyone was properly equipped for the duration. I might point out that none of us could make anything but a scarf. We could only knit rows.
Just a mere 2 years later, it was the “Year of Outlets” It was the year of the outlets because absolutely every outlet in the house was taken up by a charger or something. You couldn’t find a free outlet if your life depended on it. I rounded the corner coming out of the kitchen and every person in the room was using some kind of an electronic device and many with headphones….. laptop, IPOD, cell phone, MP3 player, and “Rock Band”(the full band version of guitar hero). The world and the people in it are in constant motion.….nothing stays the same.
I find much comfort in the saying “this too shall pass”. I always add “and you can’t stop it from changing if you try”. If I am in some kind of pain or grief, this too shall pass. On the contrary, if everything is cool, even great, this too shall pass…..so enjoy it. This also reminds me to be in the moment…..link up my body and my mind. The present may require acceptance and I am finding that acceptance is the key…….opening up a world full of love and possibilities. If I want to be somewhere else other than where I am, I will miss it.
So we live in the age of computers and such. I fought it for some time. I carried my checkbook around for the longest time, resisting the check card. I really don’t know why. I guess I was stubborn and afraid. Afraid of the check card…..that seems completely and utterly ridiculous now. I will have to remember that, when I am resisting change…..especially the kind of change that is changing with or without me. A 12 yr old, if that, showed me how to use Windows Movie Maker on YouTube. I’ve learned a few things from some generous teenager just being of service, as well as my nieces and nephews. They have gotten much farther than knitting rows of yarn onto a big long needle.
I trust I will figure it all out as I go. I trust that I have all I need. With courage, I open myself up to learning in the physical realm, as well as the spiritual. Be not afraid. I show up for life and do the next right thing. I Honor My Truth!
The Mobile Unit “Is It True?” Series Episode Fourteen
“You should always wear a seatbelt”
I was grabbing a snack at “The Village Inn” last night in Omaha, Nebraska. I was a vegetarian until age 40, at which time, I changed my status….which is another story. That being said, I had a Rueben sandwich with onion rings. Onion rings are for special occasions and this was classified as a special occasion being that I am out of town. The folks at the “Village Inn” may beg to differ claiming that just dining in their restaurant alone, gives me the onion ring go ahead. However, I know there are “Village Inns” all throughout Nebraska.
I was enjoying my meal and struck up a conversation with the server. Correction, business was slow and she was chatty. I am more the “keep to myself” type. There are the “extroverts”, the “introverts”, and the “reclusive extroverts”. I created the latter for myself, being that I didn’t quite fit in either of the others. You can join or start your own classification if you wish. While I sat there, hurriedly raising my blood sugar back up to a normal level, she filled me in on her life. I’m not a really big “talker”. Something tells me she wasn’t a good listener. I had asked her for ketchup a couple stories ago.
She talked about the “noise in her head”, the incessant “chatter” that tells her things like “she’s not good enough, etc.” I’m not sure, but if the “chatter” goes on like she did, it could have been a particularly bad case of “noise”. I could tell she was not one to open up like this, but I seem to bring that out in people…maybe its 30 years of working in restaurants myself. She believed that she might be the only one like this….that she was the only one who heard this pointless garbage in her head. Since she wasn’t talking aliens, I told her it was ok and that she was not alone. I get the “chatter” too. Besides, even if she was an “alien tracker person”, she undoubtedly isn’t the only one of those either. The truth is that we are never alone.
I told her aboutmhow she could practice acceptance of the present moment, whatever that is. If the “chatter” shows up, say hello and tell it to be on its way. I’ve found that it isn’t even imperative to get to the bottom of why I might think things like “I’m not good enough”. Sadly, I use “not good enough”, due to its widespread commonness. The cure for this troublesome “noise” is awareness, acceptance, and action. Being aware of it….how separate and useless it is. Realizing how ineffective resistance is, and practicing acceptance. Lastly, it’s taking action, in spite of any fear……and moving forward with courage. This action is what being real is all about…and even offers some relief from the “noise”…so go ahead, Honor Your Truth!
The Mobile Unit “Is It True?” Series Episode Fifteen
“You get things done one step at a time”
I do not know how in the world my parents did it. They must have been crazy, seriously. They would pack a few suitcases, a cooler, us 5 kids, and a poodle and drive from Chicago to Oregon every summer. All of this was accomplished, in “The Wagon”. It was burgundy with that faux paneling stuff. It was only christened as “The Wagon” years later when as teenagers we used to pile in it, and drive around. At that time, it was the only family transport vehicle. We would take turns sleeping in the back. You always went back there with whoever you weren’t about ready to take a bite out of….for real. My sister did bite me in the back one year. However, I wasn’t a saint either, none of us were. In fact, I remember shutting the door on my sister’s finger due to a minor discrepancy over ownership of a chocolate chip cookie. It was a “free for all”….mayhem.
We traveled cross country like this to visit my grandparents. The Corvallis area was our home base. We would always take a trip or two to the coast from there. We all LOVED the coast with its rocky shores, salty air, and chowder. It was quite an adventure. My dad drove the entire way out there. He would then fly back to Chicago, work, and fly back to Oregon to drive us home. This was the extent of his vacation. He worked all the time. Quite honestly, it was the most I saw of him all year. These trips were pretty special…..no matter how crazy they might seem to an outsider.
We would stop along the way, of course. I loved the feeling of pulling into a motel late at night, never knowing what to expect there. We had snacks, ran the halls, and climbed into a bed with fresh sheets. No matter what the condition, it was better than the backseat. I remember having breakfast in Lincoln, Nebraska and the waitress spilled an entire tray of food on us…..cereal and all. I remember we often stayed at our friend’s cabin in Colorado Springs. One year, my Dad and Mr. Spade killed a rattlesnake right outside the door. I got a bunch of splinters in my butt from running and sliding on the porch. I remember drinking water from a faucet at the side of the road. It came right out of the side of a mountain. We stayed in a “scary area” in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I don’t know why it was scary, but I know my mom was mad and we couldn’t run wild. I did get a turquoise ring from some guy selling jewelry there. I still have it. Every time we would drive through the mountains, I would hear my mom say, “Bob, slow down, Bob, slow down!” When we were older, we would say, “pick a lane, Dad, pick a lane!” He always drove like he was the only one on the road, even in the presence of a log truck. I used to hold my breath when we passed one of those log trucks. One year, I wore a red hat the entire time, from the day we left until the day we got home. I thought it was fabulous.
If my parents thought about the trips in any kind of detail, we never would have gotten out of the driveway. I am sure the idea would have seemed impossible, even having done it multiple times. And actually, the less they knew the better. The only way to do a trip like that is to prepare the best you can, use the information you’ve learned, and do it….one mile at a time. I didn’t realize back then what an amazing feat it was to do this year after year. I sent them a postcard today…thanking them for all the laughs, the fights, the mishaps, and the miracles.
I know the first step is by far the most challenging, for me anyway. It ALWAYS gets easier…..to either move forward further or let go more. Easier doesn’t always mean I continue….having taken the first step, I may even let go. I can see my truth more clearly. I step out into the clearing. It can be so foggy back there…with all the “chatter” telling me, “I can’t do a thing” I see my truth more clearly having had the courage to begin. I trust the process. I Honor My Truth!
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