Flo

The title – it’s the name we called Homer basset and Abbygail basset, the day we brought Homer home.  Tim asked me what we’d call them when they grew up and I’m sure I made some flip or sarcastic response.  The thing is, over 11 years later they are still the “basset babies” or “the babies”.  (It’s a good thing we didn’t ever have children – we’d have never let them grow up.)

Today, Homer is in the hospital.  He is in Denver and is likely to undergo surgery on Thursday.  I don’t handle this very well.  Married to a veterinarian, I am used to being able to be there the whole time, watching and observing, holding and hugging immediately following any procedure.  That is not the case this time.  It is hard for me, really hard.  There is some invisible sense of control that goes along with just being there and none of that is there right now. 

I am aware I am upset about something in the future and not right now, but that’s the case.  Homer isn’t sleeping at home and Wally basset wanders around looking for him. My feelings for Homer are immense, full, gigantic and enormous.  My love for all the creatures we share our lives with is like that.  Nothing much bigger exists.

In my head, I realize that there isn’t alot I can do – I can think positive and optimistic thoughts; I can project that he will be running around the yard in 6-8 weeks. In the meantime, my heart aches.

Flo

“When friends stop being frank and useful to each other,” wrote literary critic Anatole Broyard, “the whole world loses some of its radiance.” Make sure that doesn’t happen any time soon, Gemini. In fact, regard this horoscope as a warning beacon that motivates you to action. Intensify your intention to keep your best alliances frank and useful. Infuse a dose of raw candor into any relationship that is in danger of becoming lazy or dishonest.                                                             -Rob Brezsny

This isn’t the first time (nor is it likely to be the last) that I’ve written or noted Rob Brezsny’s words in my blog.  However, this week I find his words provoke alot of thought and go along with how I’ve been thinking for some time.  Things like the need to be honest in relationships and the need for others to be honest with me.  For the most part I keep myself out-of-the-line-of-fire, not being “called” on my actions-words-behaviors too often.  That doesn’t remove me from being a person that needs that in her life, that accountability, and I hope those who know me and love me clearly understand that is something I expect from them.  It should be reciprocal, not one sided.  Just the idea of it feels so freeing, yet I wonder how many of us allow for this in our lives?

It’s not an invitation to be broken down or trod upon, it’s the willingness to continue being human.  To be made aware of when I trip up or wander, which may cause hurt or pain for others.  In some ways it feels rather freeing.

Namaste’ 

On a weekly basis Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate prints “American Life in Poetry“.  This week’s poem is by Trish Dugger and here it is below:

Spare Parts

We barge out of the womb
with two of them: eyes, ears,

arms, hands, legs, feet.
Only one heart.  Not a good

plan.  God should know we
need at least a dozen,

a baker’s dozen of hearts.
They break like Easter eggs

hidden in the grass,
stepped on and smashed.

My own heart is patched,
bandaged, taped, barely

the same shape it once was
when it beat fast for you.

Enjoy.

Recently, on the CBS Evening News Morley Safer reported on “The Pursuit of Happiness.”  He quoted the main scientific survey on international happiness conducted by Leicester University in England, noting Denmark is the happiest country in the world with the U.S. ranking 23rd (above Iraq and Pakistan).  Many topics are discussed as to why the United States ranks so low and Denmark so high on the list.

Among others, Safer interviews Tal Ben-Shahar, who teaches Positive Psychology – the Science of Happiness at Harvard University about this study and about how American’s view happiness.

A 2006 NPR article also interviewed Ben-Shahar, who lists his six tips for happiness.  Although in the article his best advice is #4, it would do us all some good to consider this list, and figure out how we’d like to implement it daily.

 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.