Protective Coverage

“Summer means happy times and good sunshine.” Brian Wilson

And it also means Sun Rash-which is such a pity. I love to be outside. As soon as the winter dreariness is cleared away with the  power wash of spring, I want to be outside. I want to garden, walk, swim, and help Joe with construction. It all comes at a cost.

Winter is free. Summer is expensive. At the first exposure to the sun, I break out in tiny, itchy bumps. So…I have to decide. Go outside unprepared and uncovered and itch. Or go outside with appropriate gear in the attempt to ward off the sun’s apparent irritation to my skin.

Faye with sun gear painting

When I can, I try to protect myself from the sun. I still go out, but with some caution.

Life is actually very similar. We can get hurt by other people. We have a similar choice: stay in and be protected, or venture out and interact with people and receive possible enjoyment. I suppose I have to admit that over time, I’ve learned to protect myself a little. I place some degree of protective coverage between me and a new person until I have some trust that the person is safe.

I used to trust easily. Stephen King says, “The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool.” And so it was. Consequently, now I am more protective. To trust and be trusted is a valuable gem. Earned trust is a treasure.

“To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.” George MacDonald

 

Art Gallery in My Mind

“As humans we look at things and think about what we’ve looked at. We treasure it in a kind of private art gallery.” Thom Gunn

My art gallery is in my mind. When I experience a beautiful moment, I linger there. I want to fully embrace it. I want to see it, feel it, smell it, listen to it, and taste it, if possible. My five senses become the colors for my art. Every experience doesn’t get protected in the gallery. Some experiences I remember, but I do not call up the memories. They fade some over time.

Other memories, I protect. They get placed in the art gallery and I visit them often.

Puffing my wedding veil from my face as I try not to cry as my groom is singing the song he wrote for me.

Standing on a pier in Santa Monica and watching the ocean greet the shore, seeing the textures in front of me: foot printed sand, white bubbling crashing waves, blue sky, and the green bluff of land jutting out of it’s mountain perch as it watches the same scene.

Stroking the hair at my husbands temples as he rests his head on my lap. He’d just gotten home from the hospital. As I stroke his temples, I note the gray that is beginning to appear. Life moves on and leaves it’s affects on us.

My father walking out on the empty golf course approaching a lone figure, crying in her grief. His arms folding around me, and telling me it will all be okay.

Waking up on the hospital room cot and seeing little white Kids tennis shoes gently tapping the floor as the person rocked to and fro on the other side of of the crib. I sit up on my cot, look over the crib, and discover the shoes belong to my sister who has come to comfort me while there with my infant daughter.

Feeling the hug from my friend when my world was falling apart. Feeling a comfort from him that reached to my soul.

Standing in a castle garden and giving my love to my second husband. Surrounded by nature, flowers, and the breath of spring. All full of hope and promise.

Seeing bright red flowers that grew from the stubborn black lava rock that covered the Big Island in Hawaii. Being so amazed that life could grow out of such hardship. Yet, knowing that to be true in my own life.

These are a few. The gallery is too big to describe all the art which is stored there. One of the beautiful things about this gallery, is that it never closes. I can enter it anytime I wish.

“The sun never sets on my gallery.” Larry Gagosian

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/linger/

Pro-Active Patience?

“Patience is not simply the ability to wait-it’s how we behave while we are waiting.” Joyce Meyer

“I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.” Henry David Thoreau

Can we wait-be patient-yet maintain a conscious endeavor?  It seems that one or the other takes the lead. How do we balance the goal to be patient, yet have the wherewithal to maintain the conscious endeavor to make things happen?

While I am waiting for ‘something’ to occur, can I also be actively conducting activity to make it occur? I understand that I can actively do things to prepare myself when the ‘something’ occurs. But what if that ‘something’ doesn’t come for many days; or seemingly ever?  Can I hurry it along? hmmm. I guess that would make me impatient. Do I make follow-up phone calls, tweet, or otherwise engage in the ‘something’? hmmm. That would be pro-active, but not very patient. Do I sit back, drink my wine, and relax and wait for the ‘something’ to occur? hmmm. That would be patient, but not pro-active at all.

The complexities of daily living.

I suppose that I can make conscious endeavors to develop who I am as a person. I will proactively seek to be caring, sensitive, industrious, and dependable. Where I conduct these qualities, and with whom I share them, I suppose I will leave to destiny. Is that the compromise?

This blog has no concrete answer. I struggle with the balance of having patience-letting my journey unfold and being pro-active; where I chart the path for my journey to travel.

Oy vey.

It used to Be Easier

Memories are funny things. “Reflection, often repeated, becomes reality” my own personal quote.

I remember events in some ‘perfected’ way. As though these events did not include challenges:

I long for the days when my children were preschool age and life was simple.

I long for the days when I could do gardening and my joints didn’t hurt.

I long for the days when I wore size 6 and I had energy to spare.

Really?

If I think beyond those fleeting wishes, I recall:

Long days of exhaustion trying to keep up with two active preschoolers. While I adored my children, I was eager for just one long hot bubbly private bath! Life was not simple-I had to learn about neurology and what surgeries meant and how to navigate the complicated medical systems.

I cannot exactly remember ever working in the garden and my joints not hurting.

Imagine the delicious foods, and dinner with friends, I would have missed if I stayed a size 6. And the energy to spare, was a myth then, and remains a myth today.

Truth is, each day has it’s own pleasures and it’s own pain. Pain lets us grow, Pleasures help us endure the growth.

“We all pine for a time in life when things were simpler. Even when they weren’t necessarily simpler, hindsight makes them look a lot simpler.”  Ben Gibbard

Perhaps that is the beauty of memories. We can choose, selectively, what we record for daily reflection.

Still Small Voice

“The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision.” Neil Gaiman

Your ‘voice’. It sounds so simple, yet it can be so hard to discern what it is saying. I can usually hear my voice when I speak out loud. I recognize that as myself.

My trouble comes with that ‘still small voice within me’. Why does it whisper? Sometimes I swear it must be speaking in another language. “Speak up!” I yell. “Be clearer!” I complain.

I go to a quiet place. It does not get louder.

I go to a busy place. It does not get clearer.

How do we hear that mysterious ‘still small voice’? Who is that still small voice? Is it me, my soul? Is it a companion spirit from the spirit world attempting to guide me? Is it my own desires that try to influence my choices?

I am unsure. I am uncomfortable with unknowns. I like to have my ducks in a row and facts at my fingertips. But when my ‘still small voice’ begins to chatter, I do try and listen.

Carl Jung says, “Deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, something is out of tune.”

Sigmund Freud says, “The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing.”

I hear the chatter. I feel the soul vibrations. I sense I am to heed the words. My spirit is seeking. I am trying to tune the channel to ‘still small voice’ specials. Perhaps the secret is to slow down. Walk slower. Be more aware. That will be my goal for today. Today will lead to tomorrow. I trust after many tomorrows, I can incorporate the habit of slowing down, to listen to myself, and to enjoy the dialogue.