"Surrender Dorothy"

The only way I can relate to the word surrender is by thinking of those words written across the sky by the Wicked Witch of The West. And yet, every day, I am reminded in order to move closer to the plan which I am to believe exists just for me, I need to surrender something which is holding me back. I have been lead to believe surrendering is for the weak. All those pictures and stories burned in my mind of "hands up and surrender" were for the defeated, not the victorious. Moving or running away instead of facing what is not good in our lives seems easier than surrendering the part which is the hardest for us to accept, and letting it go.
Truly walking or running or crawling away from the part which does not work, is making us sick, or is destroying our self, soul and spirit should be easy if we value our heart, mind and body.
Easier to "give up" than to surrender? Surrender is a strong word; implying a person may not have the strength needed to persevere through the heavy to the light parts of life. I say the light meaning the "straws" which seem to break our backs thought we should be able to let the straw land on the ground with out a temper tantrum. Surrender is not the same as detaching yourself from something which brings you sorrow. It is not the same as putting someone or something into the hand of a force greater than yourself. Surrender is placing very carefully something or someone who is part of your life away from you and walking away; not looking back, never to return, revisit or regret. If you are facing a surrender in your life, give yourself time to grow into it. The feeling should be this is the only way to survive rather than die. Don't do it because someone yells at you "Come out with your hands up!" You come out with your hands open to take on what will come next. It is written "only the strong survive"; I believe only the strong surrender.

I wasn't told, were you?

The word support continues to swirl through my thoughts.
I think of how the women before me used this word. There were many pearls of wisdom we all wished our mothers might have shared with us about what it meant to be a woman, not a girl. What we might need to get through each day, despite what we thought the day might be like.
No generation invented friends who became critically ill, friends whose faced each day in a marriage that was like living on Mars, friends who needed financial help, friends who suffered from depression, friends whose child would never "straighten up and fly right". It is in everyone's world; maybe it is happening to you.
Somewhere in the annals of my memory, there are times I saw and overheard those women friends talking to each other about the pain in their lives and how it was good to talk to someone right then. Someone who would come when the bottom fell out and needed someone to help clean up what had left litter all around. I knew my mother was praying for her friends and sisters. I obviously learned something in watching and listening.
Support is being there. Asking the question when someone calls (not emails) "Is everything alright?" Never diminish the power of the human voice.
Often everything is not all right. It can be a topsy turvy day, week, month, year, years. Be prepared to have something happen which can turn your world upside down, inside out.
Friends trust us with the most intimate parts of their lives. When they need us, they truly need us. Stay tuned and know all the powers of the faith you embrace are there to guide you when you are called upon by a friend.
I was never told by women, of the generation of my mother, how they stayed standing when they often had been falling through pain and confusion and complexity. They stood in magnificent grace; but they never told me the secret to their balance.

Defining Moment

Recently a modern day guru has offered this example as a way to define a decision you might need to make.
After you make the decision, go and fill a clean bowl with warm water and wash your hands, then dry your hands with a clean towel to complete the decision making process.
A couple of thoughts entered into my brain; one, this might be a good thing to do to help embrace and follow through on a serious decision you need to make. Second, this is what Pontius Pilate did after making his historical decision.
Pilate was washing his hands to separate himself from the grave decision he felt he had been pushed into making by a mob (Matthew 27:24). To demonstrate he was not responsible.
Putting away this advice for the future, then on an early Sunday morning filling a bowl and looking into it trying to weigh a decision worthy of this ritual, I was caught with the binding future this
decision may hold me to if I indeed made a decision and then washed my hands in the bowl.
We think "decisions" pretty much abound in our lives. Should I go or stay? Should I call or ignore?
Should I stop hurting myself with useless thoughts or take a step which makes sense?
The desicison demanding a ritual is deep...... it is so important, we must be prepared for the consequences in our life after we make this decision. We might not have control of what will happen if we make this decision.
Humans have made the decisions to marry, to have children, to unmarry, to separate from our children, to stand for a principle when our family members and many friends would walk away from us.
Serious matters for which we did not wash our hands; but possibly should have.
The symbolic washing of hands has power beyond what I could commit to on a Sunday morning.
Every thought of a decision to make bounced in my mind as trite, simple, even only transparent to the decision the bowl of water was worthy of consummating.
These thoughts would not translate into a decision strong enough to wash my hands for.
These thoughts were details compared to a decision with true and trusted consequences.
A decision with a true point of no return in the vast universe of fear versus knowing.
Denial, detachment, derailment.......
I can shake your hand, pinky swear, cross my heart hope to die, sign with my own blood - yet,
wash my hands in a bowl of clean water to seal the myself to a decision?
I confess, I was not able to.

Amazing but true

A very interesting occurrence happened when posting my last writing.
I am now the member of a blog for my job and this personal blog space.
Surprise, surprise, but last Monday, when viewing the job blog, there had
landed my personal blog. It was mind blowing to see this mistake.
It was removed - deleted - by the person in the office who set up the blog, and
no one could understand how it had slipped on to the job blog.
I have therefore been a little timid to write again and try posting on this site not
knowing what cyber space had tricked me into last week.
As they say, "this is a test" and I am going to post this to see if it ends up where I
am hopeful it will, on the Restless Life Syndrome Blog.
Testing 1,2,3..........

Where have you been all your life?

This is a simple question if your life is in order.
If crucial elements are not in line, security on any level not balanced, then this question is more of a threat to life as you may have sown it. Yes, as you may have sown it.
Order is not perfection; it is more like having the feeling you can put your hand on something in the exact place you left it.
Surprises and unplanned life occurs whether we know where we have been all our lives or not.
Happiness and grief invade a moment; at times, simultaneously.
Coasting rarely lasts for very long; but oh what a glorious feeling to not have to be engaged in the obstacles of life for a period of undetermined time.
"Where have I been all my life?"
Does it matter more than where we could be going?
The romance of "Where have you been all my life?" is a step towards accepting someone in your life who may initiate great change......hopefully for the better.
If you find out where you have been all your life, perhaps it will ignite a fire to compel you to think deeply about where you want to go next and take the steps to arrive there......safely.

How many times?

There was a time in history when the parents said, "Why do you listen to that music? You can't understand a word they are saying!" Music, since the 1950s and 1960s has changed enormously.
Often, not only are the lyrics hard to understand, the music is head (ache) banging. Yet, perhaps because I am of the generation which needed to listen closely to hear the words being sung, I can pretty much understand the artists of today's words. "How many times can I break til I shatter?"
This pretty much is the question of the day. Are we broken or are we shattered? Is there a difference between the two states of being? If an object of value to us breaks, if it seems reparable, we attempt to put it back together. If this same object shatters, not likely to be put into a recognizable state. If broken once, we have a chance to reinstate ourselves, if broken over and over again until shattered, what next? What can be found of value to repair? Often a magician, to demonstrate his power will tear up a piece of paper or brake a vase into small tattered pieces.
Place the pieces into a hat, they say magic words and remove the shattered pieces into whole.
There are times, when believing this power is within ourselves, we survive broken pieces of our lives and dreams. You hear over and over, "just pick up the pieces and start all over again".
Is this possible when our lives and dreams are shattered? There is a difference. Without the magician hat and words of sorcery, what does a mere mortal do in a state of shattered?
Can we love ourselves when we are shattered? Do we even recognize our soul when we are shattered? Who can we turn to? Most shattered objects are swept up and placed into the garbage.
Possibly the phrase for self protection should read: "HANDLE WITH CARE, BROKEN IN THE PAST; NEXT TIME, LIKELY TO SHATTER".
Believing it is possible to rise from shattered pieces..........may depend on the time and place we are in our lives. I am not a fan of what does not kill us, makes us stronger; one door shuts another opens; because, if we do not become stronger or find an open door, we live on a fragile lifeline and more likely to shatter than break. There is a chance we take each time we bring a beautiful object into our lives. We place it in/on a safe area. The unexpected turn we take near it may leave it standing, toss it to the ground to break, or crash into a shattered mess. I can only come to one suggestion. Try with all your might, faith, hope and fear, to pick up the shattered pieces and create a mosaic out of a chaotic shattered life.

To express or suppress, that is the question

It is often said, some cultures are suppressive and others expressive. Is this true? I know, in my experience, when emotion would erupt during a family gathering, we would yell, throw the plate down, then once the voices were done with the "love" they would refill the plates and continue with the meal. At another table, I discovered the least little bit of edge would cause silence and a discouragement of recognizing someone had a problem (for discussion? never). The people gathered would ignore the voice in the wilderness until it no longer felt worthy of existing. Can these two opposing voices learn to coexist in a room, much less the world? If the old pearl "opposite attract" makes any sense at all, then the suppressor and the expressor would be the best match ever. Life is never this simple. Most of my interaction with people of the opposite persuasion (suppressed - they were) always involved someone telling me the poor human assumed I was upset at them when I would only be using a clear, strong, controlled voice to tell them my feelings; I was rarely in "throw the plate down" mode at the time. I was only attempting to make a clear statement. The suppressive culture was so sensitive, so insecure, so out of touch on what it meant to express feelings and feeling expressed around them was like a direct hit. A blow to their delicate cultural condition. Culture is not only a form of ethnicity, each family has an intimate culture which dictates how feelings are viewed. In some families, there are no feelings allowed; and in other families, only feelings are placed out there, in every breath they take. I once said, when you decide you have found a person you might want to start your own family with, look at their culture. Stop and remember, they bring a father and mother from two different cultures, and you bring the same. Stopping there, six people exist in the neat little nest of what should seem like only two. In truth of those who exist in a frienemies, an enemies or a marriagies relationship are living a complex reality of suppression and expression. Bless us all for attempting to succeed, and please hide the dishes!

The right to choice

Contrary to my last writing, I have not been having a gin martini every night - or - even since that night. Yet, I could so choose to do so, if I wished to.
Choice is a complicated action in life. "The right to choice." What does it mean? If we can purely choose for ourselves, we obtain sovereignty. In today's world, this seems almost impossible.
Though you may choose to fix a cup of coffee, go out side on the porch and enjoy a cool morning peacefully, the neighbors have made the choice to hire people to come and tear up their yard on the very same morning. It is the positive and negative of life. A simple choice for self indulgence turns into a tug of rope. Does sovereignty only apply when it is a most important decision we are in the position of making? Believing we have a choice is a step towards sovereignty. Being and claiming to be the one who directs our own life is empowering and lonely at the same time. I can fully understand why the Queen of Hearts shouted "Off with their heads!" Our personal choices are in the direct path of another's personal choice. When you only wish to have it work out, become simple, not a war; what can a person do when faced with the choice of my way or no way? Most fables and parables reflect the life condition of choice. Does a peson choose to be the rabbit or the turtle? Does a person choose to be the responsible "son" or the prodigal son?
Are we both? Is it even possible to be both at the same time? Unfortunately, the norm is to combine the ying and the yang. Without making a clear choice we do not obtain a life of sovereignty. Sovereignty allows us self respect, self understanding and self dignity. Possibly even a bit of self indulgence. Take care of you; it will be the right choice.

The Time Traveler's Life

It seems impossible to realize something so simple as the way a martini might taste could bring an array of life experience long buried in the ruins. Growing up, my aunts and mother drank martinis. It meant they were grown women; they had achieved a status in their age which allowed them to drink a true martini. I was allowed to "taste" these martinis and often was even allowed the olive which was soaked with the combination of liquors. I remember setting a goal for myself; a strange one it seemed, but it meant I would have become an adult woman....when I was 30 years old, I would order a martini. Somehow I put this off past the age of thirty and by the time I came around to it I was asked "with vodka or gin?" I knew vodka and chose it as the combination for my martini. It was always vodka and having been so many years since tasting one of my aunts drinks, it seemed fine. The other night all this changed. I was out on a special evening and the martini had a very fancy name, but it was made with gin. I ordered this martini and I was immediately transported back to my childhood. This was the martini the women I knew had drank and enjoyed. It was the martini once referred to in the "3 martini lunch" for serious business men. This is a martini to be reckoned with. I felt as though all this time, I had put the obstacle of the second rate vodka martini in my way. I had settled for less than a true martini could offer me. It was not about intoxication; rather it was about ownership of maturity. Having felt the power of the aunts and my mother over the years, their emancipation came from sharing this cocktail socially long before women were allowed to make more personal choices for themselves. Before the woman's liberation movement; this seemed to put them on equal footing with their male counterparts. Women were just beginning to enter the career arena as doctors, lawyers, school principals........university professors........they did not need to look for obstacles to block their miracles; the world was doing a good job at suppressing these women and their power. Though it was not so very long ago, it is hard to appreciate the struggle most women had before the 1960's.
During this time, many, many groups fought their way out of discrimination and prejudice. The new rights and laws to give equal rights to everyone are rarely appreciated by the present generations of these groups. But I could see those women, my aunts, again in those rooms, sipping on a gin and vermouth martini. Letting go of the inner turmoil of life which was holding them down. Their time was not my time; their martini was not my martini. My spirit felt a lightness drinking this martini because my aunts and my mother were suddenly in the same room with me and this was just the drink I needed.

What do you see?

If you have noticed I have not entered a revealing profile. I often think of a time when I might meet someone new and would I truly open up and tell them of my life. I feel as if I have more baggage from my past than anyone would be willing to help me carry. We all have a story; but not each of us is mired.....I cannot even describe what I am mired in.....I only know I have yet to pull my foot out of the mire and start walking without dragging it along with me. As they say, she is scared of her own shadow, I am terrified of my own profile. Yet, there is an under lying presence when allowed to reveal itself reminds me of two incredible facts. Well, one fact two bloodlines.
I have the blood of ancient Romans and ancient Native Americans pulsing through my veins. How powerful is all this? When I thought of this, I could take a step towards believing I may overcome the obstacles of my "baggage". These two ancient peoples were warriors; they came ready to overcome for the sake of survival. It is hard to fight a way out of mire and muck - especially when you did not create the nastiness. If I claim my birth rites, I may believe I can perform against any challenge thrown into my path. Without intending to "post" a "profile" - I have done the very thing I started out saying was hard for me to do. A little will need to go a long way. One small step in the strong direction.

Starve, Rant, Survive

Here it comes.....her story, on the big screen.
The book "Eat, Pray, Love" is about to sweep the nation of women who need to find their true life's calling. This book is for the 25 - 40 year old women, who were torn between finding themselves questioning a stable commitment and deciding it had been the wrong choice for them, for whatever reason. But if you are in this age group or older and married longer than 10 years and happen to have a child with the "wrong commitment" this story of self discovery is not for you.
And pleassssse - I would love to discuss this with Oprah who has made a mega millionaire out of the author - I cannot understand what Oprah saw in this and believed could relate to any woman who found themselves needing to leave a commitment which was terminal emotionally and was not about to be paid (advance paid may I add) to write their story and get paid even more. The author was a paid journalist before she sat on the bathroom floor weeping to gain insight to why she was so very miserable. I made it through the beginning explanation on why she had to end the marriage, why the divorce was not a pleasant as she hoped he would allow it to be on her terms, and then how she was going off to eat (as well she could) in ITALY!!!!! Not at Popeye's or Checker's or Boardwalk Fries!!! IN ITALY!!!! Please pay me to go to Italy to write about how I was starved emotionally because I had to start my life over at the age of 50 and with three children (one which would have happily gone to Italy with me, the other two, not so much).
This woman was advanced paid by her publishers to write this story - she didn't do it on her own dime - she did not do this without financial backing and the promise of publication.
Am I ranting? Yes, I am. I rant because unlike just finding the commitment I was in was inconvenient to my self discovery of who I am, like the author, I rant because I deserve to have my spiritual self discovered by the likes of Oprah in the novel I have written (but not published).
I rant because of the injustice to myself; knowing at 30 something (before children) I had an inkling just maybe he was not committed to me and I might have suggested the same route as the author. I have a list of 30 something excuses on why I didn't.......I rant through the excuses.
How lovely for the author she was still at an age where love would play a symphony for her and bring her full circle. The meaning being it was all waiting for her and thank her lucky stars she had the good sense to kick the first commitment to the curb and jump in the taxi to the airport to find a way to eat through the fog of depression, shed the extra flab while her metabolism would allow her to pray it off, and meet, as I have heard in the movie adds, find her "champion". Amen.
Not so much for the majority of us, and this is where Oprah fails to amuse me with her childlike commitment to this author's story. I will confess, I once was all things Oprah for years - then this began the crack in the bubble. This author never dealt with abuse, addiction, loss of a child, loss of a job, loss of anything which has you on your knees praying for survival instead of only the next step to take in your life. There is no grit in her story. Not the kind of grit an oyster needs to turn the insides of a muddy life into a pearl. I realize Oprah is a lover of the survival story and wants us all to learn from another person's life mishaps and tragedy - but where is any of this in
"Eat, Love, Pray"? Where? I dare anyone to show me an example of tragedy in this story. Show me.... I say boycott this sniveling, believe me when I say life is hard, but not really because I am going to Italy, India and Indonesia and my publisher is paying me. Be brave ladies; you will not survive your life as you live it now if you fall for this fairytale. All the years of struggle by women to no longer look for the prince charming coming on the white horse, what was it all for if we are being told this can be our reality too? Save the money of the theater ticket towards your trip to Italy. Let me hear you say more than Amen!

Excuse me please

At this time in life, trying to understand why things are not accomplished, becomes a reasonable question. Why are promises not kept? What possible explanation can there be for not following through?
My excuses are my reality. No one's reality but mine. I have found, every instance where an apology may be required to explain why I have not come through, was best left as only a simple apology with no explanation. I have very valid reasons. "I am sorry, but......." and I stopped including the "but......." and only said "I am sincerely sorry I did not.........." without explanation.
Who wants to hear why a person did not follow through? Contrition is a composition of understanding and commitment. Somewhere in youth, saying "I'm sorry" was a step towards trying hard not to make the same mistake towards injuring someone again. As age becomes tangled in life's surprises; creating a sometimes uncontrolled reality to cope with, we have the choice of sharing our reality as the excuse or excusing our reality as our life.

Restless

Syndrome: the combination of symptoms in a disease; a number of symptoms occurring together. The set of circumstances characteristic of a certain social condition; a set or series of related things, happenings or the like. Though with all my heart, as you might understand, I am stepping into the world of public sharing versus private sharing. This is not my arena; writing
( or as this domain defines sharing "posting") to anyone who cares to read what I write. Circumstances in life create characteristics which define a social condition. My social condition is "restless life syndrome". I believe this may occur in a person when the dreams you still have are too large to imagine they will come true. You appear settled to everyone. Not content, but settled. As long as you are in this state you will become no more than anyone expects. You remain safe and they are protected by your appearance. When asked "How are you doing?" would you dare to answer back "I'm restless."? Where would the conversation lead with this response? Who would be brave enough to present you with the opportunity and step into the void with you and answer "Tell me what you mean?" Those closest to you, those who love you, would most likely not dare to explore what you meant by "I'm restless." There are responses for hearing "I have bad news....." " I'm tired......" or even "I'm bored...." what will you offer me if I tell you "I'm restless."? This line might have great meaning when an actress, like Susan Hayward, took a long look around the room and announced "I'm restless...." As an announcement it has powerful implied meaning. As an answer to the everyday question, "How are you?" it stirs up confusion. It would mean our life is not as neat as it appears. The bed may be made up, but all the corners are not tucked in. We look like we have had a good night's rest; but in reality, we tossed our thoughts around all night long. Much like the condition of Restless Leg Syndrome, our lives are unpredictable and we have no idea when we will be awaken to work through the interruption of feeling restless with our existence. But can a person be so restless they will leave the safety of what is their very core? I am and I have.

In pursuit

when the dreams you still have are too large to imagine they will come true.......
Today the show revolves around using your thoughts to bring into reality what you desire; wasn't this the topic on a channel today? Vision boards; I spent a good part of a day constructing such a tool in 2007. The exercise was exhilarating. On the edge to jump in to what was lying asleep in the corners of my mind. Pictures from magazines, glue stick, poster board, and energy. The possibility of thriving seemed to awake the dormant desire of hopes I had long ago suppressed. Very long ago.
If the dreams we had when we were at the beginning of deciding for ourselves, were put aside, offered up as a sacrifice for what we could take away as a consolation prize, does this lead a person to feel unworthy of those same dreams? One day, you found you completely followed your instincts. The inner voice was giving the strongest direction you ever found in your core. This choice was either the beginning or the end of life as you knew it, or knew life could be. It wasn't the first time you heard this directive. By not following before you were now faced with one moment to take the world apart and then in the same moment feel it shift back together again. You had not made a vision board to map out this right of passage. The vision was within and there may not be enough glue to hold all the fragmented pictures in place. The single sureness was if you listened, this time, the correct steps taken would be allow for easier access to the dreams you still have and are yet to have.