In the moment

Friday. The end of the work week. A chance to get caught up. Or a chance to review what got done and reset for next week what didn’t. 

Friday afternoon. The start of the weekend; a shift in routine for two days. A lull…a moment in time to be deliberate…to just breathe. Experience. Be.  

Got home from work, had dinner, then headed out to the field, to the strategically located dirt pile (yeah, it’s a thing) to fill a pot to plant the snap peas. 

Filled the pot with dirt, then went off to admire daffies….

    

…and tulips…

   

…and the rock garden….  
    

…picked up a few sticks on the way back to the ATV, and evaluated the situation…

    
   

…for which the only logical solution is a quick trip to the creek, that no one protested. 

Obviously. 

  

  

My girl dog is a big fan of big sticks. 

“I have my stick.”

  

“And I can let it go…”

 

“…and bring it back again…”

  

…and again and again. 

This look. It’s the on I get when I tell them it’s time to go.  
    
 

Srsly. I have to impersonate a blackjack dealer: show them my hands are completely empty … “No more sticks!” … before they reluctantly come out. 

  

  
And then insist. “E’rybody’s go home now.”

But SCHWIMMING!! 

 

Have you tried reasoning with a Hairy Beast lately? Especially one with *that face* …

In the end, I prevailed. Bribed them, if I’m honest, with another run. To be rewarded with a lovely late afternoon perspective. 

 
Well done, Friday. Well done.   

Speak Life Into the 2%

Pollyanna. A hard-wired optimist. Instinctively looking for the good, the unique, the opportunity in every situation.

Ninety-eightpercentofthetime, this is me. Finding the proverbial silver lining.

{taking deep breath; plunging into #authentic}

It’s that blasted 2% … often triggered by crap self-care during periods of extreme stress … waking up to the stark dark of night, in the silent hours when lonliness seeps in through an exposed vulnerability and attempts to curls its way, unbidden and unwelcome, around the hope harbored in my heart; staying awake, thinking of nothing, anything, everything … struggling, reallystruggling, with depression I don’t admit … that 2% when I don’t want to be strong, when I don’t like Pollyanna very much, when I don’t think I can get over it and move on…

Several fairly significant events when I was younger–reaction/response in those instances from people whose opinion of me desperately matters– those reactions taught me to conceal the 2%, to put a smile in place and fake my way through it. “Really,” the self-talk ticker-tape said, “nobody wants to know. Your issues aren’t important.” And so, I’ve gotten good at it over the years. Camouflaging the 2%. So much so, that I’ve inadvertently trained people to expect this of me, and me to expect it of myself, Pollyanna always on form.

——–

Earlier this year, as I was emerging from a particularly horrific bout of Busted Pollyanna, I shared some of the particulars of my milestone confliction with a trusted friend. 40. It’s just a number. And numbers are relative. And I’ve never felt my age. Not really. No, it’s not the age itself. It’s the milestone. While I can honestly and appreciatively say I’ve accomplished some amazing things in my life, I thought I would have more to show achieved different things.

Her reaction? Strong. Immediate. T.H.R.I.L.L.E.D. “Where are we going to GO!?! This is fantastic. It should be celebrated!!”

One question. Unbridled, unapologetic excitement. Her eyes lit up with her gleeful smile. It shocked me. Literally, in that instant, shocked me out of gloom, despair (“and misery on me, oh-oh-oh-ah-oh”) back to a significantly better head space.

Since that critical, pivotal conversation, we’ve planned said celebratory trip (somewhere requiring a passport stamp!). My bucket list is now published and a countdown timer is ticking. I’m excited about embracing and owning a new decade. And I’ve taken my birthday off (for the first time, ever), planned an outing, and to my extreme delight have persuaded several friends to play hookey with me.

—–

Words, indeed, matter. They have meaning and value. And therin lies their power.

They can shape opinions, perspectives, world views. They can hurt, gouge, maim, destroy. But they can just as easily admire, encourage, praise, and uplift.

http://youtu.be/ZeBv9r92VQ0

Your next conversation may just be interrupting someone’s 2%. Seize the opportunity. Speak life.

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Championing the Champions

It’s been thundering and lightening this morning. I came home from the pool early to close up the house and reassure The Hairy Beasts.

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It occurred to me on the way home that everyone should have a … defender… a Champion … some valiant warrior who will mount up at a moments notice and gallop off into the fray to slay whatever dragon threatens the tranquility in the land of Peace and Happiness.

Not only does this Champion know what things are dangerous threats, but can anticipate weaknesses in defense and swiftly maneuver to mitigate them. The best of Champions often do this unbidden and unnoticed; so the threat is only at most a slight nuisance.

Sitting here with the pups a few minutes to calm and reassure them, i consider my own Champions. Precious people who know *me* and some of my squishy-vulnerable bits. More than once I have experienced them assessing a situation, noticed the shift as they “suit up for battle” and charge off to challenge whatever ______ menaces my realm of Peace and Happiness. Or simply and unceremoniously shield me from its view (or it from mine) so the threat lumbers by unacknowledged.I didn’t anticipate the thunder this morning. :/ But the first grumble was big enough to rumble the pool (which was kind of … awesome. Never felt thunder quite that way before). The second being equally impressive, I knew there was nothing for it but to high-tail it home, get Farm Dog and Fuzzy Butt in, and shut up the house. Thankfully, with all the door/ windows shut and all the fans on, Ride of the Valkyries and other such epic tunes pretty effectively drown outside shenanigans. At least, that’s what works for the 4th of July.

We should all be so blessed to have these Champions and to be Champions for those near and dear. This demands courage and selflessness on both sides: Ours to know someone else so well as to anticipate and route what might discomfort them without heed of its cost to us. And theirs to be vulnerable, to lay bare whatever insecurity or _____ that can undo them, to trust us to protect that knowledge and use it only for their good and not their harm or our gain. That sharing and baring is scary as hell, but the dividend is more than worth it.

I’m thinking very fondly of my own Champions just now. An appreciating every time they’ve turned on the fans and music and shut out the scary rumbles.

Keep calm and …

Even my coffee had a positive outlook this morning 😀

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Ooze…

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