When you don’t want to mince words

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sure_logoIt is no secret that I love words.  I like to articulate my responses in a way that is concise without being too verbose, but I do like to phrase my answers in a meaningful way – especially if I am replying to a significantly valuable question.  I want people to know I have truly ingested the words they have spoken and taken the time to formulate a well-constructed response.

But there are those less wordy than I, those who choose to avoid the commitment of a lengthy answer and spare any unwarranted emotion by responding with a simple, one-word comment.  While that single word may convey the necessary feedback to the initial query, sometimes the person posing the question is left thinking that the responder cannot be bothered to take the time to formulate a proper retort.

Upon chatting with a friend, he told his tale of how he had fallen victim to the easy out of a one-word answer.   He had received a rather detailed text and he simply wrote back “Sure”.  After I had admonished him for his complete avoidance of all other words in the English language, we both had a good laugh.

He was incensed by his own lack of effort and every time he repeated the word ‘sure’, we laughed even more.  After we had expelled all the laughter we could, obviously at his expense, he thought it would make a great idea for a blog post and asked if I would be able to write about it.  I said the only thing I could think of – “sure”.

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The selfless act of being yourself

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Since turning thirty a number of years ago, I have really grown into a person that I am proud to be.  I had spent many years before that x-mark on the calendar trying to be many things for many people and it was emotionally draining.  I had put the small pieces of myself on a shelf and created a false picture based on fitting in the pieces that others had been trying to force into the frame of my puzzle.  Not only had I done myself a grave injustice, but I tried to pass off a fake portrait as art.

Since that defining moment in my life, I have retrieved those small pieces of myself and worked steadily at rebuilding my own puzzle.  Each piece now gently falls into place and I feel much more of a sense of accomplishment knowing that this puzzle is the one I should have been working on in the first place.

life puzzle

You are only a reflection of yourself and it is a defining moment when you can truly embrace the person you are and not the person who others think you should be.  It was a hard road for me to follow but each step was worth the anguish, each misstep was worth the correction, and each failure was worth the lesson.

I used to deflect compliments, and sometimes old habits die hard, but now when I receive kind words I can truly take them to heart because those words reflect who I am to the core of my being.  Now that I am being honest with myself, and just being myself, those words have greater meaning because they fall on the ears of the person I wished I had given myself permission to be so many years ago.

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Love is subjective

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I have found love where I least expected to find it.  It caught me off guard, rendered me helpless.  I always thought I knew how true love would feel but this deep emotion is far greater than I anticipated.

I can stare at my new love without feeling the need to speak.  I can touch my new love and feel the warmth being radiated.  I was nervous to admit to myself that I had fallen hard, but I can’t fight a love like this.

crockpotI have no fear of being the crazy cat lady as I approach the impending new decade that lurks a few years around the corner.  I will happily be the crazy crockpot lady.  I had dinner cooking in this little gem last night as I busily chopped and prepared five more meals for my freezer.  To say I am obsessed is an egregious choice of adjectives.

I do think that my circumstance could be much more dire than it currently is – not only have I found a love that shares my passion for food, but together we are helping people who can use a bit of a break.

When you find the right love, everything is a win-win.

 

 

The cookie crumbles that way for a reason

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karma

There are several familiar expressions that humankind uses to describe the same outcome. Whether it be “Live by the sword, die by the sword” or “what goes around, comes around”, they converge on each other and intertwine to form a common thread that we all weave into our lives.  That common thread is called Karma.

Karma is part of the law of “cause & effect” and it chooses how and when to seek its retribution or favor.  It may come back to surprise you in a swift and effective charge, it may linger in the shadows and creep in when you least expect it, or, if you believe in reincarnation, it may make its presence known in your next lifetime.  Regardless of when it chooses to expose itself, it will seek you out and place its law gently at your feet.

It can be calculating and manipulative or favorable when it wants to be, and the words used to describe it may best define the actions that led Karma to finding you in the first place.

Karma is not a superstitious hypothesis.  I believe we each create our own luck, be it good or bad.  Karma is energy, a life force that gains its momentum from the vibrations we put out into the world.   And it is not just about negative energy and paybacks.  Karma works just as well on the opposite side of the energy spectrum.  Good deeds done selflessly tend to have Karma smile favorably upon us as opposed to hunting us like wounded prey and going in for the kill.

The Golden Rule, or as I discovered another name, The Ethic of Reciprocity – is this, do unto others as you would have done to you.  It is such a simple string of words with such a profound outcome.  And, as this is the year that I vowed to give back, I am putting my good karmic vibrations into the atmosphere and have been receiving those positive vibrations back in spades.

Karma has been very generous in its intention to show me that it appreciates my efforts.  And I can only continue to grow my relationship with that Ethic of Reciprocity and hope that I can keep paying that generosity forward.

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The perks of being true to yourself

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I was recently rummaging through my writing desk when I came across a letter I had long since forgotten.  It is not the typical style of prose I would choose to hang on to but it is a glaring reminder of how therapeutic it can be to exorcise a toxic friend from your life.

Toxic friendships start so innocently.  The relationship begins to build on a foundation of trust and common interests, a bond is evident and the rules of the alliance seem to be clearly outlined and understood by both parties.  Each participant silently vows to put the other’s well-being ahead of the general population and to always have the other friend’s back.

But, somewhere during one particular friendship of mine, the rules changed.  My toxic friend began to show the obvious characteristics of being narcissistic and she no longer had a genuine investment in my feelings.  She began to pollute my reality with her selfishness and her uncanny ability to focus solely on herself.  Although the previous vows of our friendship still may have percolated in the back of her mind, she forged ahead only looking out for herself, completely negating any regard for my feelings.

Unfortunately, I have fallen victim to more than my fair share of toxic friends.  I have created excuses for their behavior, forgiven them on many occasions for the negative effect they have had on my life, and the lives of others, and defended their antics ad nauseam.  For the duration of those relationships my toxic friends broke all the fundamental and universal laws of friendship and yet I found it difficult to break the bond of our kinship.

I keep this letter, still, as a reminder of the journey I took to find my worth.  This one solid shred of evidence is proof of the strength I possessed to finally walk away from a toxic friendship and put myself first.  It is a letter, penned by a third-party, written to attack my character and accuse me of misrepresenting myself as a friend.  Although this letter initially angered me because the author was completely ignorant regarding my history with this certain friend, I now look at the words and smile.

I was accused of being a bad friend, and I was a bad friend – to myself.   I was accused of changing, and I did change – for the better.   I was told I would regret ending this one-sided friendship and, yes, I did indeed have regret about ending this particular friendship – but only because I didn’t have the balls to do it sooner.

into a new freedome

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I made a monumental decision that day and one I will never regret making.  I finally gave myself permission to define how I let people treat me.  My friendships now are nurturing and reciprocal and the friends I have in my life treat me with the same respect I show them.  It was a bumpy road for a while but knowing when to let go was a lesson I learned the hard way.  I may have a few cuts and bruises from having walked into a new freedom but I shall wear those scars with pride.

A new way to hitch a ride

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For those unfamiliar with the bird in the above picture, this seemingly benign creature is a Black-Capped Chickadee.  They are tiny in stature and extremely friendly once a level of trust has been developed.  I would spend countless hours as a child sitting outside on our deck with a handful of sunflowers seeds charming these little creatures to land on my hand.  I would marvel at the heat produced by their tiny claws as they gripped my fingers and admire their courage to trust a human feeder.

I became much smarter as time went on and removed the actual bird feeder altogether.  I was the only source of food for these feathered friends and slowly became the Chickadee Whisperer.  These beautiful little birds would jockey for positions on my outstretched hands and graze on the seeds that I willingly provided.  More often than not, I would have to leave my perch to fill the supply of food but they were anxiously fluttering around the deck awaiting my return.

On one particular occasion, I had gone inside to replenish the supply of seeds and had unwittingly left the screen door wide open.  One lone Chickadee flew into the house through the open door and, like a Kamikaze pilot on a suicide mission, thrust itself straight into our living room and landed squarely between the shoulder blades of our long-haired Lhasa Apso, Misty.  She had been sound asleep on the couch but the shock of having a foreign object entangled in her fur was immediate and Misty leapt off the couch to shake the intruder loose.  The more she shook, the stronger the bird held to her hair.

Not knowing which creature was more terrified, I watched Misty go from disbelief to panic in milliseconds.  As Misty began  thrashing like a bull being ridden in a rodeo, the bird held fast.  The movie 8-Seconds had nothing on this bird.  It was going for the World Record and the seconds began to tick on the clock.  Misty, realizing that a mere shaking of her shoulders was unsuccessful, jumped off the couch, taking off like a shot into a full run.  She lapped around the circuit from living room to kitchen to dining room and the chickadee hung on for dear life, riding that poor Lhasa Apso like it was going for Gold in the Olympics.  (I had to stop writing for a moment because I’m laughing too hard to type)

If you’ve ever watched a horse race and really concentrated on the jockey’s hands on the reins and position on the horse – this is what the poor Chickadee looked like riding my dog through the house.  I made vain attempts to catch the dog so we could rectify this unsettling but extremely hilarious chain of events but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to focus on the task at hand.

After I finally caught up with the dog there was a great deal of panting.  I was panting trying to catch my breath after laughing so hard.  The dog was panting because she was probably moments away from having a stroke, and the bird was even panting – perhaps thinking a few more seconds would have garnered that coveted position in the Guinness Book of World Records.

With a great deal of wrestling, we finally held the dog still long enough to cut the hair in the death-grip of the birds feet and finally took that poor Chickadee back outside to give it the freedom it so rightly deserved.  World record or not, that was one hell of a ride!  After this scene, that could only be described as something from a movie, my mother and I both had to change our pants.  It will live as one of the most cherished memories of my childhood and I think about that rodeo ride every time a Chickadee graces my feeder.

What is your funniest childhood memory?

I cry a thousand tears

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cry

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A thousand tears have fallen

and saturated my face.

Keeping alive the memories

that time will never erase.

Salient thoughts burden my brain,

each with a life of their own,

keeping me close to my ardent emotion,

my sadness never far from home.

A rushing wave of sorrow,

an eclipse of what was good,

 trying to find the buoy of happiness,

in the sea of misunderstood.

Embracing loss, moving on,

clinging to what I hold dear.

Knowing that the emotion I feel,

others keep just as near.

I cry a thousand tears,

knowing I am not alone,

 and I hold tight to those who cry with me,

 feeling that they are my home.

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Rather, the light saw me

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I have started this new year feeling better about myself than I have in a very long time, maybe ever.   The scale still hovers around the same number, the grey hairs seem to multiply exponentially while I sleep and the lines around my eyes seem to be getting deeper.  But those lines around my eyes are being etched further into my skin because my smile seems to be a permanent fixture on my face.

I will be the first to admit that I have never spent much time volunteering for anything.  Sure, I jumped on the “pay it forward” bandwagon and I have even blogged about that very phenomenon.  But there is something much more rewarding about really putting in the time to help someone rather than just buying a coffee for the person in line behind you.

What began as helping a friend, who is currently tackling an undiagnosed medical issue, spiraled into a concept that is slowly growing into something I am becoming very passionate about.  It combines two of the things that I hold near to my heart – cooking and being able to help people.

Some of my blogs over the last few weeks have alluded to the Sundays we have spent cooking in the kitchen of the family resort where I am employed.  We have successfully sent almost twenty freezer slow-cooker meals to a young family who lost their home in a fire just after delivering twins, and we are gearing up to do it again this Sunday to add ten more meals to their freezer.  In a few short hours in the span of three Sundays, we have provided a month’s worth of dinners, giving them more time to devote to their children and their next step rather than having to think of what to cook each night.

I also had the pleasure of delivering the first of those meals to my very dear friend on Friday, the friend who inspired this journey.  Just knowing that I can alleviate the tiniest bit of his stress pays me in ways that I never thought possible.  It is a very emotional feeling and, even as I write this, it brings tears to my eyes.

light in your eye

I have watched them before.  I have seen volunteers many times and noticed the light in their eyes but, until now, I had never really understood the source of that light.  I get it now….and it is a light that I would like to have continue shining in my eyes for a very long time.

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