Flo

Sometimes I find that I am unable to let go of things in my mind.  It’s as if I have some tendency toward obsessing.  In order to resolve that, today I took the time to write a letter to the President.  Don’t get your hopes up.  It’s not particularly appropriate and won’t be printed here.  You see, my nephew has now gone to Iraq and ranting at the President felt like a good thing to do.  It allowed me to express the emotions that I was holding inside, and then move on.

This is a technique I’ve used for years in journaling class and one-on-one with clients - “the unsent letter”.  I’m not sure where I first heard of it (surely a book) and it is highly promoted online .  The idea is to write a letter expressing everything you need to say, knowing you will never send the letter.  There may be many reasons you won’t send the letter, i.e. the content is too hurtful or too painful; the recipient is unreachable (for instance, deceased).  You get the idea. 

Give it a try and then gently, move on.

 Namaste’

“Kenny’s platoon is in lockdown” – when she says that I think “oh, it’s like jail, somebody did something wrong”.  What I say is “what does that mean”? “It means they leave in about 7 days”.  The phone is silent then tears and sniffles. What this means is my nephew leaves for Iraq soon.  I’m teary as I write. It feels there is no way to voice the barrage of thoughts I have related to this. I want to rant at the President, scream at him and resort to name calling. It would all be ineffective but the feelings would stop setting up house in my heart.

It seems there is no point in feeling all this, but it is there, camped out and may very well remain there until Kenny returns. Should be 6 months and I wonder if that’s true. My sister says he’s not nervous, that the other members of his platoon tried to reassure her; that she met other guys who had just returned and they were okay following their 6 month tours. “Tour” – as if it’s a joy ride where they join up with others, ride the bus to see war torn cities and buy souvenirs?

Part of the response is the dead Barner men. None of the men on my father’s side of the family are alive. 10 years ago Dad and Marty died; there is no way my sister is willing to sacrifice her oldest son for anything at all, let alone an inane, insane war. I call her back later, trying to ask what she needs in support. She doesn’t know. I’ll be there to visit in a few weeks, that will help.  At least that’s what I tell myself. 

I recently had the pleasure of meeting with local Art Therapist/Yoga Instructor Andrea Atherton-Nollet and four other creative souls for a few hours of treasure mapping.

Andrea presented insights from Lynn Siprelle  who discusses the art of treasure mapping and her treasure mapping process.  She writes of its role in her life in creating visual pictures of things she wanted and how after 15 years, it all has come true.

Although we were a small group, we intently focused on the task at Andrea’s art table.  Tearing magazines, drawing with pastels, and cutting with scissors, we searched for pictures of the Eiffel Tower, discussed the recent talk we heard by Caroline Myss and created our 2008 Treasure Maps.

I hung mine up immediately in my office when I got home.  Never one to declare myself an artist, the circular shape is unusual for me, with the outside representing my outer self and the inner part representing my quiet, secret inner self.  Parts of it continue to roll around my head.  Each day I see it inviting me to move, step, even jump in the direction where the pictures and words beckon. I’m sometimes slow to approach things. Maybe that will change this year.

Namaste’

[If you're interested in pursuing this creative method for manifesting, many suggestions are available online.]

It seems it has been ages since I’ve posted anything here.  It’s not for lack of writing at all, for the writing continues.  It has been a time of going within and I feel this will continue for a while.  I’ve realized it’s part of my nature to withdraw and sort of gather resources, then when they are all gatherered, plunge in again.  It’s a time for me to evaluate what’s inside, assess it and make changes.  It has also been a time of increased work and where available time has disappeared off the radar.   

I’m thinking about new year’s resolutions. They aren’t something I normally do, outside of “goal setting” for the next year.  This year, I’d like to create a list of goals for myself and today I’ll start with #1.

1.  Claim a greater appreciation for myself.

I’d love to hear any of yours.  Namaste’ and happy new year,

 Flo

Last night, well really, early this morning, I woke myself up laughing out loud.

It’s such a funny thing to do.  Having never done this before, I want to do it again - like when you turn in a circle, round and round, until you’re dizzy and fall down, only to jump up and do it again and again.   I want to wake up because I’ve laughed so hard in my dream that I’m laughing for real.  In the dream, I had the giggles and couldn’t quit laughing.  I had already wakened two other times and this time, I just lay there, really appreciating I could wake up this way.

It seems on most days, I can easily create a list of all I’ve done, accomplished and achieved.   And typically, if I need to do that, my planner does it for me. Weekends, I prefer no listing on my Treo, and I resort to pieces of paper, Post-its, stuck on the end of the granite bar.  In reality, I’d like to get through my weekend without a list, without my brain saying “snow tires*pedicure*Target*Sunflower Market-> you really didn’t do much today” as if I need to measure*validate*prove how I spend my weekend time.  Today I created the “list”, hoping I’d have a little focus and not spend the entire day watching movies.  I did about 1/2 the list and many little things that didn’t make it on the list - rakes and shovels from the summer to and in the shed, tires to the barn, and my favorite, feed apples to the neighbor’s horses and miniature donkey.  This donkey is a funny creature, coming to the fence to ensure receiving apples she can’t eat in one bite.  She takes a bite, chews, then takes another bite.  Polite-like.  Meanwhile, the two not-so-polite horses come over to steal her apple.  This little miniature donkey is white with brown spots and the first time the white horse came to steal her apple, she turned around and kicked at his face, both back legs high in the air.  She’d show him. Unfortunately, the height of her back legs, full extension, is lower than his head and she lost her apple.  I ran back home, cut up another apple into pieces her size, hurdled the fence and hand fed them to her, while I was nudged on the backside by her sorrel pen-mate (I don’t really know if she’s “sorrel” or not, but I do know that’s a word indicating a horse color and I think it’s brown!). 

This is what really mattered in my day.  Not the laundry, the conference registration, the vacuuming or the research on HP portable printers - what really mattered, was the fresh air and feeling those little donkey lips (are they called “lips” on a donkey?) touching my palm as she nuzzled around for bits of apple.

I prefer not to watch the news and normally I don’t.  Tonight I learn that Pakistan is in a state of emergency, that a group of girls at Oprah’s school in South Africa were sexually assaulted.  I get overwhelmed by the barrage of news.  So, I avoid it.  The issue with that, to me is my naiveness about world issues, because I can’t find a forum to do so that includes positives and negatives.

Not feeling so well, I’ve hibernated at home today with work being done on my computer and my phones.  I open a new catalog which starts “NAMASTE’, In peace and respect…” and those few words quiet the ragged edges of my mind.  Who ever thought a catalog could start with such calmness?

I have a to-do list that could be addressed - things like “study Spanish” or “balance checkbooks” dominate that list and carry a fairly limited amount of excitement.  My enthusiasm is missing.  Instead, I sit on the sofa, surrounded by my mail and three bassets.

Monday morning I awoke with harried negative self-talk going in cirlces in my head.  There was no sense of calmness anywhere in my body or brain.  Mornings like that rarely happen but when they do, they’re paralyzing.  It’s as if the needle of the record player got stuck on a scratch on the album (I grew up when vinyl was “in”).  The negative thoughts got to the point of boiling over. I was too distracted to figure out how to get out of it.  My saving grace that morning was a phone call.  One phone conversation and the hovering grey cloud was gone, as if it had never been there. 

I wanted to make a list of ways to get out of such a space.  I knew it could help me in the future when I was too preoccupied to come up with options.  Anyone out there might want to add their suggestions as well - what distracts one person from negative thoughts might not work for another.

Here’s the beginning of the list:

1.  Talk to a friend

2. Read

3. Meditate

4. Go for a run

5. Journal

6. Wallow with the bassets

7. Sing along with a John Denver song (after all, you know all the words).

8. Dance to “Footloose”

keep the list going.

Morning tea - the sun eeks its way up and I see the side of the barn brightening with its rays. (I will not declare or analyze what day it is).  The sun is now hitting the neighbor’s pear tree, whose leaves have turned a golden rust color.  I love fall and all its colors, the way this season leads us to winter.  I also feel a sense of unease as I watch the summer flower blossoms bend over, freeze and shrivel when the frosts begin.  Last year, unable to watch, I pulled several summer planters inside for the winter - the house looked like a poorly kept arboretum.

Makena creeps around the deck, checking in around the door, ensuring I’ll let her in if she is too cold and she wanders away again.  I watered the planters on the deck this morning. Their leaves are no longer upright and green and I try desperately to breathe life back into them again.  I want to see the deep purple petunia blossoms, the pink and striped geraniums, the purple fountain grasses that waves in the very slightest of breezes. 

It’s Sunday (I am noticing I frequently start my blog writings stating the day of the week.  Hmmm, lets analyze that…).  It’s Sunday morning and although there is always a “to do” list, nothing is so pressing I can’t sit and relax, drink my tea, read last month’s “Real Simple” cover to cover (which I never get to do) and write.  It’s a luxury in my life to just sit and read.  It has been since before college (a LONG time ago) that I can remember whiling away any time at all reading.  As easily distracted and distractible as I am, one stray thought and I pop up from my reading spot to do some random thing.  In the summer, it’s mowing (such a heavy, weekend, time-intensive chore) or gardening and prior to this summer, there was always a feeling of “overwhelmed”, that I never settled down enough to focus on what I was doing, because there were so many other things that “needed” to be done.  To a large degree, the things that “need” to be done are all made up in my head.  Occasionally, outside forces impact this (you know, like the IRS, work or socially related deadlines), but really, most deadlines are self created and self imposed.

Today I want to read about carving jack o’lanterns and organizing my clutter.  I want to find out how to cook the perfect roast, learn to store my shoes and what are the nine stand out coat styles.  I want to remind myself why this time is important, that the quiet is restoring, that the things around me that cause distraction are just things; they don’t really need addressing at this very instant and self soothing cups of tea and a magazine are good for my soul.

Namaste’