2020 Reimagined

One of those mornings.  Feeling a bit trapped, stilted and restrained.

So, I have to be honest with myself and understand that nobody is restraining me, specifically; it’s my own perceptions.

I’m seeing a lot of complaining and gallows humor about how ‘awful’ 2020 is. How punishing and whacky and off kilter this year has been.

The perception of this ‘year’ (I prefer era or transition because we’re only in the first few innings of this) that I’m trying to foster, internally and personally is this:

What if we we look back in 5, 10, 20 years and realize that 2020 was the year we awakened to some things that we’d been asleep to.

What if this year, that we are all slogging through together, is the year that we FINALLY become conscious of so many things that had been undercurrents of our lives and society for a very long time.

It’s totally plausible that the reason for our fear, anger, outrage, confusion, etc is because we are being forced to see and feel things that we’ve kept buried.

We have 240 years of history, some that isn’t all that glorious, that we’ve been afraid to look at, speak of and accept due to denial, shame, group think and our own inherent need to go along with the conventional wisdom.

Or because we are members of one of the various groups that have not really been allowed a voice or full participation.

OR because we are members of the more elevated and privileged groups who don’t have to worry about the struggles, disenfranchisement or oppression of others.

My writing over the past 3-5 years has pointed to this moment. I warned that all of our institutions were on shaky ground and many are literally crumbling.

Financial, economic, educational, military, health care, GOVERNMENT, political, agriculture, media and on and on. All are failing us.

So, they must fail or evolve, so that we can SEE and then begin to reform and re-work them for a new era. One that is more equitable for everyone, rather than the protected classes.

That is what 2020 is ushering in. And yeah…watching everything that we THOUGHT was true, proven wrong, corrupt, murderous, wasteful, damaging, lethal and horribly manipulated by wealthy, powerful interests is shocking.

So, instead of complaining or deriding 2020 as some crazy anomaly that we will recover from and go back to ‘normal’, begin to shift your perspective into what is REALLY happening. Question your beliefs, behaviors, opinions, actions.

Normal is highly overrated and highly dangerous and corrosive to our well being and our nation.

Grow up says The Divine/Cosmos/God, ’cause we won’t let up until you do.

Hello 2021: Phase 2

Choose wisely

We all have choices: darkness or light, positive or negative, glass half empty or glass half full, gratitude or victimhood. I could go on, but I think you get the point.

The past two months I chose darkness and this period made the Top 5 Most Miserable Times of My Life List. I can’t really pinpoint what is #1 on that list, since my life is ongoing, but it was right up there near the horrible pinnacle.

Everything that led up to this 60 days of darkness has been well-documented in this blog: moving, the death of my dog, a long and brutal winter, regrets, changes and then the final straw, my dad’s sudden death. In other words, life. What knocked me off my axis, was the number of life-altering events that happened over the course of about 7 months. Too much, too quickly.

I’ve gone through some miserable times before, as have all of you. We are humans, walking around on an imperfect earth with other imperfect beings and bad shit goes down for all of us. My problem is that I always assume that it’s because of something I’ve done or didn’t do; some choice that I made or action that I took, that brings the wrath down. That’s my own little self-flagellating punishment that happens and it tends to make the challenging times in my life just a little MORE challenging.

So, after about 50 days of pain and suffering, inflicted mostly by me, I began searching for a remedy. I made a choice. Being in my skin had become unbearable; the urge to drink was overpowering. I almost felt possessed, as if someone else were animating my body and mind. I needed an escape from suffering.

I asked for spiritual guidance; threw it out to the universe and it came. From various sources. People, books, podcasts, nature, stumbling into a peaceful, little metaphysical bookstore in Traverse City. I also made a business trip to Denver that got me out of my dark little place and away from the oppressive energy at home. It was as if a swirling, cleansing wind had surrounded me, sweeping away the smothering black cloud.

That was when something clicked. I woke up, not feeling dread, but feeling whole and open and hopeful. I re-started my yoga practice that had been dormant for months, I finalized the end of a long-term commitment and was able to see clearly into my future with a sense of buoyancy, I heard the morning bird songs and was happy, rather than terrified to slog through another day. This all seems melodramatic, I know, but it’s true. And I’m so grateful.

The whole idea of asking the universe for help has been proven true for me. I reached out in a time of darkness and so many sent blinding light my way. I’m tanned, rested and ready to bloom again. Thank you to those who came to my rescue. Thank you to me, for opening up and basking in that glow and allowing that energy into my life.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t blame yourself when bad things happen. We have choices that are in front of us every single second, of every single day. Feel your pain; surrender to it and then look around for the help and the grace that is always there for us. It could come from nature, church, people, animals, art, music, exercise, meditation; whatever speaks to you, find it. Go there. Life is hard, it really is and anyone who says otherwise is a big, fat liar. Find your light and go toward it.

 

More on letting go…

It’s nearly Christmas and for the first time in probably 15 years, I’ll be spending it with my family.  More specifically, with my 93 year-old parents.

While I’m looking forward to it, part of me dreads it.  My mom is getting foggier and my dad is finally starting to slow down.  The way to face your own mortality is to witness your parents’ aging process.

Spending time with them makes me grateful and uncomfortable; it’s a jumble of emotions.  Tenderness, irritation, impatience, grace, humor, clarity, guilt, love, regret.  Merry Christmas, eh?

I think that most of us are conflicted about our families, particularly if you left home and hometown, when you were young.  When we return to the nest, we return and revert to our family ‘roles’.  But, as our parents age, that doesn’t work any longer.  We take on new roles as caretakers, helpers and decision makers.  And that’s hard.

My parents still live on their own, in their house on 5 acres.  In the past couple of years, we’ve bought them a generator to get through the various storms that plague the Midwest.  We’ve encouraged them to think about downsizing into a retirement/assisted living facility.  This means that every time we visit, we’re sent home with a lot of ‘stuff’; some of it ours, much of it theirs that they can’t bear to throw away.

We all collect so much over the years; not just physical, but emotional, including a lot of scar tissue.  There comes a time to let it go.  To wish it well and send it on its way.  The last year has taught me much about letting go.

We moved and I said goodbye to a home and a place that I loved.  We’re in a whole new environment a couple of time zones away from the old life.  New people, new climate, new lifestyle, new city, new values, new problems.

We said goodbye to my beautiful and very much loved dog, Chili.  One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.  I’m still aching over that loss.

So, I have empathy for my elderly parents.  They are letting go of 93 years of memories, things, comfort, security.  Very hard for them and for us as their children.

Sometimes things are ripped from us, when we least expect it and sometimes it’s a long, painful, introspective process.  Either way, we eventually lose everything that we love and hold close.  The human condition.  Our biggest fear and our constant companion.  It is truth.

And so, I look forward to Christmas with the family and will remain in close contact with my sense of humor in dealing with this phase of life.  That’s something my parents, particularly my mom, instilled in me; in all of us.

I’ll also dig deep into my limited well of patience and understanding.  I’m somewhat deficient in those qualities and the past 6 months has unfortunately drained me even more.

But, I’m grateful. To be back in my home state, close to my parents, with a new life and home and puppy, while retaining some of the former life that has been so hard to release.

Be well.  Remember to be kind.  Surround yourselves with who and what you love during this holiday season.

Still learning…

I’m an over-thinker, but I try and learn something from each painful experience in my life.  The discomfort that I’ve felt over losing our dog, Chili has got to mean something to me.  What have I learned from the past few weeks?

First lesson:  trust my intuition.  I’ve always been in tune with what I can feel or ‘know’.  Unfortunately, I’m also a very analytical and logical person, so I tend to override my gut instincts.  I knew that there was something a little ‘off’ about the dog all summer.  Even before the summer.  I kept telling my husband that something wasn’t right.

There were no overt signs.  She seemed healthy; her blood work didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.  But, there was something in her behavior that I found unsettling.  She wasn’t enthusiastic about her food, she seemed a bit depressed and sluggish at times.  I attributed it to our move, the new surroundings, the heat.  I had even written a couple of emails to a local holistic vet, saying that I felt like something was going on with her and I even felt like it was involving her liver or kidneys.  But, I didn’t act.  I suppressed it because I didn’t have any firm evidence.  Until of course, she got sick and died.  My gut spoke; my brain ignored.

The next thing that I learned:  reach out to folks who are going through a bad time.  We often don’t know what to say or how to react to people who are grieving or struggling or in pain.  It doesn’t matter what you say.  Say SOMETHING.  Let them know that you’re thinking about them.  Express your condolences.  Either by a note or a text or an email or a phone call.  Just do it.  More than once, if need be.

The comfort that comes from hearing from other humans is immeasurable.  Even from strangers, who only know me via my blog, my Facebook or my radio show.  The notes and comments that I received were of great comfort.  We are all humans, bound together by our common experiences of sadness, happiness, joy, sorrow, triumph.  Let’s suffer and celebrate together.

Lastly:  time really does begin to erode the pain.  It’s been less than a week, but I’m already beginning to soften.  I can finally talk about my sweet, departed pooch and feel warmth.  The pain I felt is morphing into gratitude for the memories and the time that we had her.  Everyone said this would come if I made a little space.  Everyone was right.  The collective psyche knows what it’s talking about.

Seems like we’d all have learned our life lessons by the time we reach the age of 50.  Not true. Gotta remain open to the wisdom that so constantly is knocking to get in.  Open the mind, open the door, open the heart.