5 Really Good Things

Been awhile since I did this one, eh? I've been thinking about it all morning. For a minute or two, I felt awful; all five things were really self-centered. Then I had to smile - I think that's just fine. I'm discovering things all over again, I'm remembering, and I've grown thristy for more of life. Feels almost giddy.

• I actually listened to the music of a band called Meatloaf today. Wow. How'd I miss that? I must have dismissed this on the basis of name only because I really like it!
• At 6 A.M. my house is so peaceful and quiet - no TV, no worry about saying the wrong thing to anyone and sending the day reeling in the wrong direction.
• On April 15th I quit drinking soda pop. It just felt like the right time to initiate a change in habits. My body has been catapulted into a dramatic detox - so while it's not pretty, I have faith in the coming rewards. If it's possible to feel really good and really awful at the same time, I do! The meter is teetering closer to really good all the time.
  
• I spent a night and part of the next day this weekend with my grandson - was that a joy or what! And no one else took control or told me how to act or what to say. And we had a fine time!
• There are lilacs filling up my workspace today - a simple, beautiful treat.

How about you? Do you have five really good things in your life? I'm betting you do!

Cheers

~Lee

Wishcasting Wedneday - What do you wish to have?

Me? You mean me? I can have something? All mine? Something like ummmm to have something means you can feel it, hold it in your hand, touch, taste, understand. Wow. Really, I can have something. Let this sink deep inside; I don't want to waste this one. Oh this is fun. Closing my eyes, all sorts of cool stuff starts drifting by: airline tickets home for the 4th of July. Nice, new tennis shoes. Oh yeah, new sewing machine. Oh...hmmm a lawn mower. Some yellow fiestaware. Oh yeah - it's like a virtual candy-store in my head, the stuff just floating by on a treble clef line of musical notes. A regular commercial in my head. Oh wait, there's a couple more, I need a new printer, and really, yeah, I'd like some surround sound. I bet I could go on and on. Yoga class, membership to the Community Center. What should I pick!

Yeah - I'd like to have all that stuff and then there would just be more stuff that I'd want, tickets home for Christmas, now a weedeater and a rottotiller. Oh yeah - let's not forget about that tumbling composter. I don't want to waste this wish on fleeting stuff that just leads to more fleeting stuff. So what is it that I want, something I can have, all my own? Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah............ Got it.

I want to have the ability to get all that stuff, and let it go when I'm ready. I want to hold within me the power to achieve my own little want list. I thought for a moment this might be self-sufficiency, but that's not quite it. I'm frustrated now with thinking about this and tempted just to stomp my feet and say, "I just want to have everything I want!"

Then, I realize that's not such a stupid thought as it might sound, is it? Is't that really what we all want? We aren't exactly the fisherman's wife, we don't want to be Pope, and we don't want to think that we are greedy and just start expecting "things" to fall from the sky. But these "things" that I want, usually represent some other "Thing" inside of me. I want to have beanty, order and harmony in my world. That means, being able to mow my yard and plant a little garden, see my children, bliss out to music so that I can relax and meditate, stretch, exercise and play. It means being able to sew my little projects. All of those "things" are really about only a very few things, and it's knowing that those things inside me will be nurtured and made manifest in the material world that I want to have. What is that word then, for this Thing that I want to have? Grace? Faith? Balance? Trust? I want to stop wanting that yoga class and just have it. I want the lawnmower to appear because small children are easily lost in my yard the grass is so tall.

OH! I am just frustrated this week and I want something and I don't even know what it is! So maybe that's a good place to start - I want to have an understanding of what it is that I want. There. So. Fine!


If you'd like to join our wishcasting circle, please visit Jamie's page, cast your wishes with us. It's an amazing exercize - you'll love it!
~Lee

I finally finished something

I promise, that Zune pouch is next. The pincushion was fun to work. I found myself approaching the project differently; when I got tired, or felt bored, I stopped. Simple. I didn't let myself feel pressured by a deadline, or just by the need to "get 'er done!' It took me nearly a month to get this little project completed. I've been allowing myself plenty of time to just sit and stare out the window, or drop my hands and do nothing. Thinking back to Jamie's post about being gentle and letting it seep into my life.

For the first time in nearly ten years, I can do as I choose. I can work a pincushion, or not. I can choose TV, or knitting, or walking. I can eat broccoli or peanuts if I want. I'm surprised how often I find myself without a clue about what I want to do, what I'd like to eat, or where I'd like to go. At first, I chastised myself - yet another opportunity to beat myself up, "You really lost yourself that far that you have no idea what to do with yourself on a rainy evening? Geeze, Lee, how dumb have you been!" Little by little, I became aware that this was not my voice in my head, but someone else's. And so, I learned to wink back at the faceless voice and says, "yeah, maybe and it's gonna be some fun figuring it out again." And then.....I sit and do nothing if I want. Absolutely nothing, in absolute silence.

Go me!

And I've been saying that a lot too. Go me!

Once in awhile, not often quite yet, I can hear another voice. This other voice is still a little soft, and still brings me quiet tears. But there's a slight, twisted grin at the end of the tears; and I discover, that I think I like that voice. It's a sweet voice, a kind voice, and a very familiar one. I think we're going to become good friends.

~Lee

What do you wish to experience?

As usual, Jamie asks the perfect question of the day. She just never misses. Jamie's question sent me off into fantasy land this morning, oh man oh man are there some experiences I hope to have yet, again, for the first time, now! next year. Oh yeah. And I suppose that's a very good sign, I'm crawling out of this hole little by little.

I can see myself coming over the top of the hole, there's a ladder that has helped me to reach the top. Looking at myself from over here, as I crawl out, I realize that I am caked in mud, covered in grime. My fingernails are black and my hair is in knots. Then, when I get back "over there" and I'm actually in my body and not looking at it, "I want it off, get it off me!" Then, I realize what I want to experience most.

I want to experience clean. Clean. Dirt washed away. Clean, fresh, sweet-smelling

I want to experience clean, like being baptized, washed in the blood and filled with grace

I want to experience clean, purity, crisp, clear, without duplicity, without doubt

I want to experience clean, bright, shiny, soft and cool like summer sheets against my skin

I want to experience the clean that comes after a hard night's rain, when the drops still shimmer, and even the worms look perfect

I want to experience clean so that when my voice passes my lips, it is mine, without the echoes of other uninvited speakers, mine, and mine alone, clear and sharp, certain.

Let me be clean, pure, honest.


Okay, and after that, I'll like all your experiences too! Warm beaches, creative, art-filled afternoons, abundance, love, bliss, dancing! I want all those things too, but I want to great them clean.

I think maybe I want to wear one giant silver earring today :)

~Lee

Please be sure to use the oxygen mask first before attempting to assist others

When I sent him away 6 months ago with the edict that he not return until he could return sober, I knew that he would not, could not return. Without the haze of alcoholism to distract and disorient, the lies would have stood stark and demanded attention. But, since lies and the shrewd fun of telling them supported all else that existed in our lives, there could be no exposure, either to me, or those gathered round us with clucking, worried murmurs. He knew that without the excuse of his alcoholism, the lies could no longer be brushed away as forgetfulness, playfulness, drunkenness or confusion. I think he knew also that he could not any longer sustain the lies, and have little bites of the truth.



I knew then, when I sent him away, that I placed his life in danger; what would he do without all those lies to keep him company? I knew then that I danced with dangerous consequences but I choose to believe it worth the risk to find my own way out of that dark, slimey hole where I'd been living. And I think I also knew that no other end could come save the end which finally has come. The real end, the final end. The end which he created, leaving behind the myth of his own heroic death, and the villain, played by me, who deserted him in his hour of need.

I'm leaving the theater.


Each moment of each day now is that same moment when I leave the darkness of the matinae movie and must adjust my eyesight to the brightness of day. And now I stand, in the harsh light of day and find myself to have become two women. There is the woman that wishes to cry out for loss of him, the woman who must banish tears every few moments. I am also the woman who can breath, sing, speak, write, and who suddenly wishes to finish a pincushion.


I like to imagine that the loving and good parts of he and I were pieces of truth which he treasured. I know that is likely a wishful hope of mine, but amidst truth and lie, it seems that I should be able to pick and choose a bit of what might have been true as much as I cannot prove any of it was true or false. I will choose to believe that one little thing and I will laugh just a bit at the irony of knowing just how many other women there are right about now doing the same bit of choosing. Maybe they make pincushions too.


Lee

Wishcasting Wednesday

This week Jamie's question is:what rules do you wish to make or break?


Wow

I have always felt like Jamie's questions speak right to my heart - every single time I check out Wishcasting I am touched, I am amazed, I have been awestruck and I've even been a little teary. This is the first time I've laughed.

Really Loud!

Because this answer required no thought, no contemplation. It is not necessary to wonder and edit and read everyone else's posts before composing my own. Nope.

This one was simple, no hesitation. Would you like to hear the answer?


Any Rule I Damned Well Choose!

So there.

Love and a snickery smile, ~Lee

Eulogy for a not quite dead girl

Have you ever read stories, fictionalized, or real, about a widow, standing at her husband's grave, only to discover, as she raises teary eyes, that across the way stands another woman, also claming to be the deceased's widow? With some slight twists, this is how the last many years of my life have been spent. There is no other widow, but had there been, I would not have been surprised. Actually, I am not his widow either, I'm not sure there is a name for what I am, or was to him, and I'm not sure I'd much like the name if it existed. Perhaps I am just another in a long line of women who believed lies. Somedays I want to have been more than that, somedays I am sure that I was, and still other days, I wish I were only that and that my life had not been so ensnared as I must finally face that it has been. The layers upon layers of lies are still being revealed to me. The lies and mysteries encompass everything from dead brothers who show up quite alive to memorial services, to the whispers shared by nervous speakers with batting eyelids as they inquire about my ill health. My health is in such danger that I had not even known the perils and did not feel the prayers of those far and away from me as they worried for my sanity.


I would like to tell you that the other women who are also not his widows came as a surprise to me. I have to confess that I wasn't even surprised by the rumors of my failing health, or the fortune which I am supposed to have spent these last several years. I'd love to pretend that all of these things, and the many more which I will not speak, shocked and surprised me. I cannot claim surprise, though over and over again I have lost my breath as yet some new unreal reality damands my attention. I think I knew from the beginning, I think I understood and walked, eyes wide open down that dark, twisting passage and into the belly of the beast. So, I only pretend to be surprised when the truth is, nothing surprises me. I knew about the lies, and I co-signeded the documents. The note has come due though, and I am willing to pay my share of the debt, as long as I can pay from this side of the prison bars.



I know now that it is possible to both know, and not know a thing, and I think I am beginning to understand why. I see now that the incomprehensible does not cease to exist just because I have declared it well, incomprehensible! That reality still exists despite my most brillant and capable new age declarations that it not! Watching The Secret just one more time won't make him any less of a liar and a cheat, and it won't make my life into the pretty little life that I conjured and insisted that it be. It sure would have been some life if all my efforts had born fruit. Alas, we cannot choose life, nor the hour of death, for another.


I was about to make imagry, the image of an onion came immediately to mind, one lie exposed after peeling away the last and then, I couldn't make the oinion work because I wanted next to say something about being swallowed up whole. And of course, I had to accept that onions don't swallow anything, not even me. As I breath deeply, releasing the onion metaphor with a bit of a laugh, I realize that I am not being swallowed up anymore! In fact, I am being regurgitated from the deep, dark belly of some beast which only now I can recognize as having been my prison cell.



Every few days I realize that I am reveling in some new priviledge, some new delight, much as a child delights in the discovery of new treasures. And I must tell you, depite the sorrows and laments, the deep, wretching pain and silent wailing of grief, that this feeling, this feeling of escape, sings to me louder and clear, with a piercing trill that I cannot ignore. Some might find me unkind. I can live with that. Today, I ate what I wished, spoke to whom I felt inclined to speak and I sang at the top of my voice in the car. Yes, I can live with being thought unkind. I can.