These were the thoughts in my head this morning:
"No one ever cared if I should live or die. Surely time will prove these bitter memories...
All the years of useless work have finally reached an end; loneliness and emptyness will be my
only friend..."
And, "Talking to myself and feeling old; sometimes I'd like to quit. Nothing ever seems to fit. Nothin' is really wrong. Feelin' like I don't belong."
Of course it all sounded much nicer set to music, the music of The Carpenters, actually. *the italicized words are those which had been twisted from the original lyrics, which I didn't know until I looked them up this morning...
But I've learned more, so I was able to see more. First off: yikes. I have been listening to this music literally my entire life. Last summer a kid gave me - as a director's gift - a gift card to iTunes. One of my major purchases with that card was all the Carpenters music I had loved as a kid and teenager. Every song that stirred up slightly sepia images of family, Idaho, childhood friends and childhood love.
I recently took all Carpenters songs off my ipod list simply because I felt "down" whenever they came on.
And now, over a month later I can see why. I woke up with these words in my head: "No one ever cared if I should live or die," and "I'd like to quit; nothing ever seems to fit."
Oh how easy it must have been for negative spirits and enemies unseen to foster feelings of worthlessness, unloveable-ness, fear, depression and despair when I was pumping my head full of it all on my own? I was literally SINGING THAT TUNE. And then how easy it must have been for them to pull up those thoughts just - ya know - whenever; because they were not new to me. I had them memorized.
I had indoctrinated myself with self-depricating despair-speak. With music.
Let's stop for a moment and take that in.
I had a friend years ago who had been a child of golden heart. He was amazing; kind, gentle, brave and open. I loved him. Granted, we were children, but I have a great capacity for love, and he had earned it time and time again with his sweetness. He was abused. His family split up; his father was the abuser. Still for many years he remained with that open, pure quality which even as a child I found amazing given his circumstances. And I continued to love him.
Then one summer I went up to their house in Idaho. He was drastically changed. From the boy I knew at 12 to the teen I met at 17.... He was of course taller. He was crazy attractive, muscular - no, ripped - from head to toe, with a man's voice and bearing. But the largest difference was that he was so angry.
Apparently, in therapy he had been advised to find music that expressed his feelings and then listen to it whenever he felt those feelings. He would then work out or excersise to what he called his "Angry Music." He would smoke pot to his "Alone Music" and fall asleep at night to his "Dying Music."
I am in awe of this recognition. We are stewards of our bodies. We are stewards of our minds. I don't care if you believe these things were given to you by a higher power or not, fact is you have them. They are yours to do with as you see fit. And this dear friend, whom a part of me still loves, chose to slowly destroy himself....to familiar tunes.
Just as I in so many solitary moments of my life sought to depress or "express" myself to music. It makes sense now why my other friend would have been worried about me - at age 17 - when I started to listen to harder, more angry music.
So here I am at the age of 31.5 FINALLY getting the picture that the prophets and apostles have been trying to impress upon us all for ever so many years. I guess I just didn't have enough evidence; but I sure do now.
I said this before: "Music releases emotion and Silence releases thought." Why is that? Because music stirs emotion within us. It is one of the reasons Hymns are a delightful addition to any church service; those selections of music stir our hearts, lift our souls and help us feel what heaven was like and will be like again.
All music has that power. And you know what, I don't even need to preach about the power of music. Prophets, Apostles and smart people througout the ages have done that already - better than I.
I'm just adding my experience to the chorus of evidence of the fact that we must protect our minds; be aware of what you are memorizing, what you encourage your chidren to memorize through song. Because all those words, phrases and feelings are stored somewhere in your mind. And will be forever.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Better late than never mentioned
I have twenty minutes to share some thoughts regarding an experience that took place almost exactly a year ago.
In November of 2011, I was singing at the piano with my Muad'Dib some songs that I didn't know very well. And these songs also were special because every time I tried to sing them, I got emotional and couldn't sing through it. Anyone who really knows me will understand how odd that is. I might get emotional, but as a performer I can always sing through it.
And then Muad'Dib says, "You should do this in the ward." I ask the Relief Society if they'd be interested in me heading up a musical program that could be done for an activity. They agree, shocked, really that anyone would be willing to take on such a task, and I set to work.
It has been my experience as a member of the LDS church that talented people tend to hide or disregard their talent in the name of "humility."
So I sent around sign up sheets to gage interest in the ward: who would want to perform. I need soloists. When I mentioned the program to people, they all referred me to one person in the ward. ONE singer. ONE known soloist.
I sent around those sign up sheets for four weeks. I never had more names on it than in the first week and easily had half the willing participants I needed. I prayed and prayed for opportunities to mention singing, music and sharing talents in any lesson or venue possible. And finally came the day I had set aside for "auditions," where those who were interested in solos would come forward in a group and sing indiviually whereafter I would decide what song they would sing.
I'm not going to lie, I was surprised by who came, and only slightly surprised at the level of their vocalization. Every one of them declared clearly - though with self-deprecating humor - that they were not good singers. And had I taken them at their word, we would have had no program at all.
I am grateful that Heavenly Father gave me the opportunity to hear their voices beyond their words, that I might use my talents to bring theirs out.
It took courage and trust for them to sing for me that first time. I applaude each of them for coming. And after hearing each of them sing, I was confident that the program was going to be beautiful.
Fast forward past a montage of Sunday afternoon and Friday morning rehearsals with a bunch of women - a group that finally swelled to over 20 - who were willing to try. Yes, we reviewed the same songs and the same few measures per song OVER and OVER. And we laughed. We cried.
I taught them some physical warm ups.
There were a few of my expressions that made it into full-fledged sayings. Such as, "If you're going to mess up, do it loudly so I can hear you!" and "Everyone has a choir voice."
In May, by the time we performed the program (and the encore, since men weren't invited to the first one, being as it was a Relief Society Program), I had 8 soloists and a well trained women's choir that sounded heavenly.
Now, I have been party to choirs that had heavenly help at the end because they needed it, as in they would have sounded horrible without the heavenly help. But this was not the case with this choir. Any heavenly help afforded was a lifting of the talents they had already worked so hard to cultivate. It was angels singing with them, not for them. It was amazing. Because these women who didn't think they had it in them....did.
I cried every time. The trust, the fun.... The result. The sharing. Every moment was worthwhile. And I just wanted to say "thank you" to the women. I don't know how; and writing is what I do. So at least now it's finally out there.
And I would like to add to this record the incredible gratitude to Heavenly Father for my calling in my ward. Since the Women at the Well program, the Ward Choir has grown even more. And during the last two and a half years, I have been able to perform a job that serves others that makes me happy. It is perfect. And I am grateful, so, so, SO grateful.
In November of 2011, I was singing at the piano with my Muad'Dib some songs that I didn't know very well. And these songs also were special because every time I tried to sing them, I got emotional and couldn't sing through it. Anyone who really knows me will understand how odd that is. I might get emotional, but as a performer I can always sing through it.
And then Muad'Dib says, "You should do this in the ward." I ask the Relief Society if they'd be interested in me heading up a musical program that could be done for an activity. They agree, shocked, really that anyone would be willing to take on such a task, and I set to work.
It has been my experience as a member of the LDS church that talented people tend to hide or disregard their talent in the name of "humility."
So I sent around sign up sheets to gage interest in the ward: who would want to perform. I need soloists. When I mentioned the program to people, they all referred me to one person in the ward. ONE singer. ONE known soloist.
I sent around those sign up sheets for four weeks. I never had more names on it than in the first week and easily had half the willing participants I needed. I prayed and prayed for opportunities to mention singing, music and sharing talents in any lesson or venue possible. And finally came the day I had set aside for "auditions," where those who were interested in solos would come forward in a group and sing indiviually whereafter I would decide what song they would sing.
I'm not going to lie, I was surprised by who came, and only slightly surprised at the level of their vocalization. Every one of them declared clearly - though with self-deprecating humor - that they were not good singers. And had I taken them at their word, we would have had no program at all.
I am grateful that Heavenly Father gave me the opportunity to hear their voices beyond their words, that I might use my talents to bring theirs out.
It took courage and trust for them to sing for me that first time. I applaude each of them for coming. And after hearing each of them sing, I was confident that the program was going to be beautiful.
Fast forward past a montage of Sunday afternoon and Friday morning rehearsals with a bunch of women - a group that finally swelled to over 20 - who were willing to try. Yes, we reviewed the same songs and the same few measures per song OVER and OVER. And we laughed. We cried.
I taught them some physical warm ups.
There were a few of my expressions that made it into full-fledged sayings. Such as, "If you're going to mess up, do it loudly so I can hear you!" and "Everyone has a choir voice."
In May, by the time we performed the program (and the encore, since men weren't invited to the first one, being as it was a Relief Society Program), I had 8 soloists and a well trained women's choir that sounded heavenly.
Now, I have been party to choirs that had heavenly help at the end because they needed it, as in they would have sounded horrible without the heavenly help. But this was not the case with this choir. Any heavenly help afforded was a lifting of the talents they had already worked so hard to cultivate. It was angels singing with them, not for them. It was amazing. Because these women who didn't think they had it in them....did.
I cried every time. The trust, the fun.... The result. The sharing. Every moment was worthwhile. And I just wanted to say "thank you" to the women. I don't know how; and writing is what I do. So at least now it's finally out there.
And I would like to add to this record the incredible gratitude to Heavenly Father for my calling in my ward. Since the Women at the Well program, the Ward Choir has grown even more. And during the last two and a half years, I have been able to perform a job that serves others that makes me happy. It is perfect. And I am grateful, so, so, SO grateful.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Voices
I was finally able to listen to the "Building a Mind of Steel" CD set by Kirk Duncan.
It basically talks about what I talked about in the previous post: identifying the endless stream of negative comments being made by a peanut gallery of unseen hecklers and how to keep myself safe from their constant onslaught of crap.
This was the CD set he had suggested to me a few posts ago when he advised "Fix mom first," when I was asking how to help my kids.
Well, so I was listening to it as I drove the kids to school ("I don't want to lose my place," I told them), and they happened to hear a bit of it. The bit about what Kirk calls the "Dot People." As the CD went on, Lemur was listening....and then listening intently. He would look at me every so often as if to ask, "Is this for real?" but never actually said the words.
Then he got out to go to school. I asked him what he thought about it when he came home. He looked directly at me and said, "Fine."
I have mentioned it in passing a bit over the last few days, but did not push further. Mostly I talked of it with Fedaykin when he came to visit (YAY!!).
On the way home from rehearsal I was listening to the CD again and was on step 1: basically doing what I did in the previous post. I was driving but instantly felt a very powerful push and heard, "Do it! Do it now!"
"I'm driving!" I answered out loud.
"It's important, do it NOW!"
Now don't turn me in, because obviously everything is fine, but I pulled out a sheet of paper, turned off the CD for a moment and wrote down the "Top 10 Negative Comments."
I finished writing, set the paper down and rolled down the window to spit out my gum. The paper blew away. I didn't know if it had escaped out the window or what, because I couldn't find it anywhere, even when I searched the car at home.
So I wrote the previous post. Then I found the original list. And holy buckets. I was utterly shocked to see these comments in my handwriting; because not only were they terrible lies, but I could honestly say I'd heard them before....many times.....and some I'd actually started to believe.
Comments as terrible as "You've already lost Rivuleta." "You've already ruined Lemur." "You aren't what Muad'Dib needs." and so forth.
But instead of feeling scared or beaten I felt cleaner. THOSE THOUGHTS AREN'T MINE!!!! They were being fed to me by a bunch of butt-heads, negative spirits ("Dot People") who have nothing better to do then be jerks.
Anyway: then last night I had a dream about Rivuleta. The dream was that I had left Rivuleta somewhere and then saw a man carrying her. She didn't seem to mind, but I knew something was wrong. I cried out and ran after him. My mother - in the dream - said, "Oh he's just like Uncle So&So;it's no big deal." But I was still scared and angry. I finally caught up to the man, took my daughter back and he laughed at me.
"Why did you take her?" I demanded.
"I didn't take her. No one was with her. She came with me."
So then Rivuleta says she has to go to the bathroom. I take her and then say, "Wait here just a minute; I"ll be right back." and take off to yell at the guy some more. I find him in a huge room, people coming in and it felt like he was about to teach them.
I yelled at him; told him he had no right to take my child; how dare he! What was he teaching her?
"I was teaching her to lie," he answered, laughing.
"Why?"
"It was easy; she's so afraid of you that all I had to do was show her she was safer if she just hid and didn't tell the truth."
"What else?!"
"I was teaching her that she is worthless. She is easily forgotten and not beautiful. That you are lying when you say she is and when you say you love her."
In the dream I remember being speechless for a moment before ranting again.... When my indignation was at it's peak - and he kept laughing all the time - I finally asked, "This isn't funny! What are you laughing at?!"
"You're here yelling at me for showing attention to your daughter...but where is she now?"
I turned and ran from the room. I realized I was angry and screamed in the annex - I didn't want Rivuleta to see me like that. But I was still angry, so I screamed until I lost my voice in the hallway. I felt better having gotten all of it out. So I went to find her.
After searching and searching, I saw a man who looked remarkably like Grandpa Lee sitting in a wooden chair, leaning back on two legs, "Looking for something?" he asked.
"My daughter. Have you seen her?"
"Do you mean that beautiful, sprightly thing that prances when other people would walk?"
"That's her!"
"You haven't lost her, I've been keeping an eye out. Turn around."
And there she was. Through the rest of the dream we held hands and I could feel her aging. She aged to college right through the dream, always with her hand in mine. Until she told me to let go.
Wow, right?
Well, then there's this:
Lemur comes to me tonight before bed and says, "I forgot to tell you my dream last night. There were Dot People all around, screaming at me lots of horrible stuff that might be true but I knew wasn't true and then there was a guy. His name was Confidence. He got them all to back off. He told me great things about myself and taught me how to shoot an arrow through the middle of another arrow. He wasn't a Dot Person."
"Sounds like you've got yourself a Guardian, Lemur. That's great!! What's his name?"
"I told you his name. It's Confidence. It's the name he picked so I would know who he was."
To many of my readers, this particular post will mean next to nothing, and for that I apologize only that you don't know Kirk and therefore can't share in the relief I feel knowing how to better raise and protect my children - and myself.
But there are also a few of you who totally get what I'm talking about. And that's why I shared it.
It basically talks about what I talked about in the previous post: identifying the endless stream of negative comments being made by a peanut gallery of unseen hecklers and how to keep myself safe from their constant onslaught of crap.
This was the CD set he had suggested to me a few posts ago when he advised "Fix mom first," when I was asking how to help my kids.
Well, so I was listening to it as I drove the kids to school ("I don't want to lose my place," I told them), and they happened to hear a bit of it. The bit about what Kirk calls the "Dot People." As the CD went on, Lemur was listening....and then listening intently. He would look at me every so often as if to ask, "Is this for real?" but never actually said the words.
Then he got out to go to school. I asked him what he thought about it when he came home. He looked directly at me and said, "Fine."
I have mentioned it in passing a bit over the last few days, but did not push further. Mostly I talked of it with Fedaykin when he came to visit (YAY!!).
On the way home from rehearsal I was listening to the CD again and was on step 1: basically doing what I did in the previous post. I was driving but instantly felt a very powerful push and heard, "Do it! Do it now!"
"I'm driving!" I answered out loud.
"It's important, do it NOW!"
Now don't turn me in, because obviously everything is fine, but I pulled out a sheet of paper, turned off the CD for a moment and wrote down the "Top 10 Negative Comments."
I finished writing, set the paper down and rolled down the window to spit out my gum. The paper blew away. I didn't know if it had escaped out the window or what, because I couldn't find it anywhere, even when I searched the car at home.
So I wrote the previous post. Then I found the original list. And holy buckets. I was utterly shocked to see these comments in my handwriting; because not only were they terrible lies, but I could honestly say I'd heard them before....many times.....and some I'd actually started to believe.
Comments as terrible as "You've already lost Rivuleta." "You've already ruined Lemur." "You aren't what Muad'Dib needs." and so forth.
But instead of feeling scared or beaten I felt cleaner. THOSE THOUGHTS AREN'T MINE!!!! They were being fed to me by a bunch of butt-heads, negative spirits ("Dot People") who have nothing better to do then be jerks.
Anyway: then last night I had a dream about Rivuleta. The dream was that I had left Rivuleta somewhere and then saw a man carrying her. She didn't seem to mind, but I knew something was wrong. I cried out and ran after him. My mother - in the dream - said, "Oh he's just like Uncle So&So;it's no big deal." But I was still scared and angry. I finally caught up to the man, took my daughter back and he laughed at me.
"Why did you take her?" I demanded.
"I didn't take her. No one was with her. She came with me."
So then Rivuleta says she has to go to the bathroom. I take her and then say, "Wait here just a minute; I"ll be right back." and take off to yell at the guy some more. I find him in a huge room, people coming in and it felt like he was about to teach them.
I yelled at him; told him he had no right to take my child; how dare he! What was he teaching her?
"I was teaching her to lie," he answered, laughing.
"Why?"
"It was easy; she's so afraid of you that all I had to do was show her she was safer if she just hid and didn't tell the truth."
"What else?!"
"I was teaching her that she is worthless. She is easily forgotten and not beautiful. That you are lying when you say she is and when you say you love her."
In the dream I remember being speechless for a moment before ranting again.... When my indignation was at it's peak - and he kept laughing all the time - I finally asked, "This isn't funny! What are you laughing at?!"
"You're here yelling at me for showing attention to your daughter...but where is she now?"
I turned and ran from the room. I realized I was angry and screamed in the annex - I didn't want Rivuleta to see me like that. But I was still angry, so I screamed until I lost my voice in the hallway. I felt better having gotten all of it out. So I went to find her.
After searching and searching, I saw a man who looked remarkably like Grandpa Lee sitting in a wooden chair, leaning back on two legs, "Looking for something?" he asked.
"My daughter. Have you seen her?"
"Do you mean that beautiful, sprightly thing that prances when other people would walk?"
"That's her!"
"You haven't lost her, I've been keeping an eye out. Turn around."
And there she was. Through the rest of the dream we held hands and I could feel her aging. She aged to college right through the dream, always with her hand in mine. Until she told me to let go.
Wow, right?
Well, then there's this:
Lemur comes to me tonight before bed and says, "I forgot to tell you my dream last night. There were Dot People all around, screaming at me lots of horrible stuff that might be true but I knew wasn't true and then there was a guy. His name was Confidence. He got them all to back off. He told me great things about myself and taught me how to shoot an arrow through the middle of another arrow. He wasn't a Dot Person."
"Sounds like you've got yourself a Guardian, Lemur. That's great!! What's his name?"
"I told you his name. It's Confidence. It's the name he picked so I would know who he was."
To many of my readers, this particular post will mean next to nothing, and for that I apologize only that you don't know Kirk and therefore can't share in the relief I feel knowing how to better raise and protect my children - and myself.
But there are also a few of you who totally get what I'm talking about. And that's why I shared it.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
La, la, la....I'm not listening!!!
Well, that didn't take long.
How unfortunate that one day I can think great thoughts even long enough to write them - infused with joy and wonder and self-praise - and then not three days later feel utterly and completely like - ... wait.
Okay. Thoughts - -> Emotion. Emotion --> Action. Action = Results.
If I am feeling terrible and making terrible choices, then I must be thinking terrible thoughts. What thoughts have accosted my mind and now hold it hostage?
Ah....they ALL relate to the new play I'm directing. I seem to recall that each time I undertake direction of a play, I have a time of doubt. Now, this time is a little different because I have more evidence to base them on.... HEY!
Does that give the thoughts the right to take over?!
NO!!
I'm going to build my mind of steel beginning with identifying the negative comments:
* You can't do this.
* You aren't respected.
* You are too intense.
* You are alone.
* No one will respect you because you are fat.
* You are abandoning your children.
* You don't keep a clean house.
* You are going to fail.
* Everyone will remember your failure.
* You will ruin the theater.
And now, as Kirk suggests, I will combat them with the perfect opposite AND an extra positive, just to be sure my brain get's the picture:
1. I CAN do this AND I have a good vision for the play.
2. I can earn respect AND am worthy of respect.
3. I am intense enough to lead AND I am a good leader.
4. I have a solid support system AND I am well loved.
5. I am awesome regardless of my size AND I sparkle.
6. My children know I love them AND they love their Dad-time.
7. I keep a clean house AND I make home a welcome place for my family.
8. I will succeed with flying colors AND I will have fun.
9. I will remember my stint as director of The Importance of Being Earnest as a time of personal strength and grace AND I will laugh a lot.
10. I will add to the startup success of the theater AND set a good precedent for the future.
Now I just need to declare these declarations about 20 more times before rehearsal tonight.
All my past evidence proves that I will direct actors; 80% will like me and the way I direct, 5% won't care and 15% will have a pretty strong aversion to me.
All my past evidence proves that I will direct to performance; The audience will respond positively. The producers will appreciate my work and my view.
I can do this. I have done it. I've done it half a dozen times, all with great success. So what am I going to do?
Remove flaxen chords. Say my new directly-combative positive declarations. And go do the work.
And if I hit a wall - I think that's happening right now - and it becomes impossible to go forward, I must go vertical.
To quote: "Move forward....hit a wall....let go of emotion....Go Vertical....next level. OR Move forward....hit a wall....take steps backwards and stand there in the emotion that came up and let it take you over. You choose.
Hint: The emotion was already inside before you hit the wall. The obstacle is not the wall....it is the emotion that you don't want to let go of that keeps you heavy and hurting inside. Let it go....lighten your load."
Makes me cry every time I read it. "Sayyadina, lighten your load....it feels better. :)"
I'm going to go do some jumping jacks. I have a feeling it will help.
How unfortunate that one day I can think great thoughts even long enough to write them - infused with joy and wonder and self-praise - and then not three days later feel utterly and completely like - ... wait.
Okay. Thoughts - -> Emotion. Emotion --> Action. Action = Results.
If I am feeling terrible and making terrible choices, then I must be thinking terrible thoughts. What thoughts have accosted my mind and now hold it hostage?
Ah....they ALL relate to the new play I'm directing. I seem to recall that each time I undertake direction of a play, I have a time of doubt. Now, this time is a little different because I have more evidence to base them on.... HEY!
Does that give the thoughts the right to take over?!
NO!!
I'm going to build my mind of steel beginning with identifying the negative comments:
* You can't do this.
* You aren't respected.
* You are too intense.
* You are alone.
* No one will respect you because you are fat.
* You are abandoning your children.
* You don't keep a clean house.
* You are going to fail.
* Everyone will remember your failure.
* You will ruin the theater.
And now, as Kirk suggests, I will combat them with the perfect opposite AND an extra positive, just to be sure my brain get's the picture:
1. I CAN do this AND I have a good vision for the play.
2. I can earn respect AND am worthy of respect.
3. I am intense enough to lead AND I am a good leader.
4. I have a solid support system AND I am well loved.
5. I am awesome regardless of my size AND I sparkle.
6. My children know I love them AND they love their Dad-time.
7. I keep a clean house AND I make home a welcome place for my family.
8. I will succeed with flying colors AND I will have fun.
9. I will remember my stint as director of The Importance of Being Earnest as a time of personal strength and grace AND I will laugh a lot.
10. I will add to the startup success of the theater AND set a good precedent for the future.
Now I just need to declare these declarations about 20 more times before rehearsal tonight.
All my past evidence proves that I will direct actors; 80% will like me and the way I direct, 5% won't care and 15% will have a pretty strong aversion to me.
All my past evidence proves that I will direct to performance; The audience will respond positively. The producers will appreciate my work and my view.
I can do this. I have done it. I've done it half a dozen times, all with great success. So what am I going to do?
Remove flaxen chords. Say my new directly-combative positive declarations. And go do the work.
And if I hit a wall - I think that's happening right now - and it becomes impossible to go forward, I must go vertical.
To quote: "Move forward....hit a wall....let go of emotion....Go Vertical....next level. OR Move forward....hit a wall....take steps backwards and stand there in the emotion that came up and let it take you over. You choose.
Hint: The emotion was already inside before you hit the wall. The obstacle is not the wall....it is the emotion that you don't want to let go of that keeps you heavy and hurting inside. Let it go....lighten your load."
Makes me cry every time I read it. "Sayyadina, lighten your load....it feels better. :)"
I'm going to go do some jumping jacks. I have a feeling it will help.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Open spaces
Yesterday I took down and put away all vestiges of Christmas. It had been a good Christmas. Then I moved the furniture around a little bit to return the house to the way it had been before Thanksgiving.
Then I got tired and didn't bring the computer desk/office area upstairs. Muad'Dib found me sitting in the recliner and said, "I kind of like it like this. It's open..."
"Yeah, but what should we put here?" I asked.
He seemed puzzled, "Why do we have to put anything here?"
WHAT?! The idea never occured to me, let alone what he said next, "It could just be open space. Like play space."
WHHAAAT??!!
So it's been a day and a half and that space in my living room is still {I almost said empty} open. It is open.
It feels weird, just as the cleaner spaces in my mind, heart and soul feel weird. And I am remembering how long it took me to get over a similar revelation over 11 years ago.
See, I deeply believed I was unloveable. I don't believe that now. But there were those years - between the revelation that I was loveable and my accepting it, followed by the time it took me to believe it and then LIVE like I believed it - where I had to grapple for a feeling of security every lucid moment of the day.
Holy crap, I fear I may be about to go through that again. Because I done cleared out a whole mess of space. Already it is easier to tell the truth, and harder to eat garbage. There are still habits that say, "Eat it before anyone catches you!" but the belief system of self punishment and shame is for all intents and purposes gone.
So not only do I find myself in need of maintenence on one front, but also of retraining on another.
Yet I smile to know that I'd rather be in this place than the place I was even three months ago.
*sigh* I do love to be productive. I will now produce a comfortable feeling when looking at those newly opened spaces in my self. And instead of filling them again, I will simply downsize. I have much less to carry now; I don't need such a big container.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
2012 Recap!
Brogurt learned to crawl, then walk and then run. He has been running ever since. He loves cars, Cars, machines, cooking, stuffed animals, real animals, running, laughing, Blue's Clues, his daddy and books.
Rivulet is flourishing in 1st grade, doing math in her head and reading more than she thinks she can. She loves My Little Pony (Friendship is Magic), the Drowsy Chaperone, dancing, singing, learning the piano and playing games with me. She was in Peter Pan this summer as a Lost Boy, 2nd Twin and the Shadow. She was amazing. Capable. She held her own up next to her "twin" who was 9!
Lemur is adjusting well to 4rth grade, though it is quite different from his experience last year. He still reads like a fiend, gobbeling up whatever sparks his interest. He loves Calvin and Hobbes, finished FableHaven, builds marvelous works in Minecraft and enjoys being outside. He wishes there were more people to play "night games," as I had got him a book on the subject this spring. He played John in Peter Pan and despite all his complaining, he was magnificent. They both want to do another play.
Muad'Dib in 2012 completed co-authoring and published a book, The Philosophy of Freedom. This is the culmination of 6 years of work, research and WORK. He has also continued as a window clerk at the Post office and supported us in our theatrical endeavors this summer. He and Brogan are great pals and he has pwned many "noobs," gaining many acheivements on the Xbox. I love to watch him play!
I have been both Sayyadina and Coach. I have supported my husband and raised my children, as well as continuing in that ever-worthy quest for wisdom and grace. I have learned and grown. I led many women in my ward in a presentation of Kenneth Cope's Women at the Well in February. It was a beautiful experience. I will never forget it! I edited and adapted J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan and was the assistant director (hence the persona "Coach"). I read Muad'Dib and Minion's book - an acheivement for the cause of learning and education if there ever was one! - and have begun reading Atlas Shrugged. It's a whole different book when I understand what's going on. And I enjoyed IMMENSELY putting together, rehearsing for and presenting our Ward Christmas Program. A creative labor of love if there ever was one, to be sure!
As a family we attended a Nelson Family Reunion at Posey Lake in Escalante, which was quite an emotional marker for my children as they each completed the 5.5 mile hike. Then we went to the Michaelson Reunion in Afton, and shortly thereafter we went on a Family Adventure to Lake Tahoe. There we visited Vikingsholm Castle, went to many beaches and played in the water, went swimming every single day, Lemur and I enjoyed Ping Pong, Brogurt "enjoyed" Roseolla, Muad'Dib enjoyed killing a wind scorpion that had accosted me in our room, Rivulet enjoyed her birthday present of 12 My Little Ponies, I enjoyed swimming all alone in the pool at night (though the bats resented my presense) and all together we enjoyed the Olympics, the water, and the time.
We are a grateful, happy family and look forward with bright eyes to what adventures await us in 2013!!!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Let me relate a story to you, if I may:
And so for the last two weeks I have rifled through my cedar chest, 14 journals, computer documents, files and scrapbooks to find every last entry of my first date, my first kiss, my first love. And then I typed them all into one document - absent of my signature sappy-ness - and have been preparing to give this record to him.
A few years ago when it was cool to do so, people were doing that "If the world ended who would you be in your primitive village as you rebuilt the world" thing on facebook. And I had answered that I would be the historian. I have a knack for it. I didn't realize how true that statement was.
I have since compiled over 60 pages of journal entries, stories, events and written memories about the times when this boy's life and mine intertwined. I had encouraged him for YEARS to keep his own journal. I have evidence of it, as I recorded that in Christmas of 1996 I had actually GIVEN him a journal of his own. And yet.... Well, this isn't the point of the story.
I was ashamed. I had carried for 11 years the guilt of throwing away literally hundreds of pages of this boy's history written in his own hand and then lying to him about it. He was a better friend than that. No matter anything else, he did not deserve to be lied to. And I have been not only carrying that guilt, but I've been punishing myself for the action.
Well, not anymore pal!
While making this record, I have been able to see with complete clarity how important he was to me. And the hand of God is blindingly evident in these events. I can see how fear and self-hatred coupled with attention and genuine affection to become a bastard emotion: co-dependant "love." Whatever I knew of myself before our romantic relationship was lost when that particular relationship ended. But it was never his fault. I gave myself up, because previous events he'd had no part in had taught me that what I was was "wrong," "too much" or otherwise "unloveavble." I can see now that I was looking for a big brother to protect me and tell me that I was loved. I was looking for that singular feeling of acceptence that comes from an older sibling and no one else. I was looking for my brother, John.
Again - not the point of the story.
Ahem. Long story short (too late!) I took three days after finishing the compilation to work up the guts to call this guy and ask when he'd be in town next or if I could mail it to him. We talked for a few minutes. And he asked me the purpose of my curiosity. Since we hadn't spoken in - oh - 6 years, it was a valid question. I confessed to him my wrong. I apologized. I told him I was attempting to make what restitution I could with this record. And he forgave me. How could I have ever doubted that he would? Above everything else, and before anything else, he had been a friend. He proved it again. In fact, he admitted he was "excited" to get to read the chronicle, as he could not remember much of anything from the years I had recorded.
And so here is the point of the story: Repentance. Forgiveness. Letting go. Humility. Faith. And the worth of recording one's life.
I am so grateful to have made such a large mistake. Because now I get the privilege of going through a full repentance process. I will be able to humbly make use of the gift Christ gave me when He gave his life for me. I make myself more worthy to return to Him.
I have been afraid of this mistake for so long. I did feel free and happy for a day or two....and then - believe it or not - I felt naked. I don't think I yet realize just HOW much I held onto and was formed by this guilt. Because it's like I removed a bunch of junk from my house and then am somehow afraid of the empty spaces. I guess it just means I have the chance to either downsize to a smaller house or fill it with other, more worthy thoughts.
And heaven knows I think plenty of thoughts. I'd better make sure they all have proper admission before just letting them in here, though. Some might be entering to vandalize or set up squatting privileges in a darkened corner of my mind. And fear of empty places only gives them a pile of fluff to build a nest.
I can see that the beginning of repentance, the becoming clean, brings with it responsibilities. And one might react like a child getting dressed for Sunday. If they are prone to dirt, it seems out of character and uncomfortable for them to stay clean and they will as quickly as possbile find a way to mar the improvements. Or, once one has been washed, one is more aware of one's cleanliness, feels loved and cared for and has a deep desire to stay clean as long as possible. Currently I am one and want to be the other. It really feels different.
Perhaps it would be a good use of my time and talents to next identify the places where I get speckles of "dirt" on my clean outfit, in the hopes that I might find a cleaner route.
And I acknowledge the great blessing and truth that even if/when I get dirty again, I may become clean again. Because Father and Christ love me just that much.
~*~ My two oldest children, Lemur (9) and
Rivulet (6), love to hear stories of my youth.
They call them “Family History Stories” and more often than not they
take the place of music in the car or a Dr. Seuss at bedtime. Recently they have been asking about my
theatrical escapades. I have told them
many funny stories from the early days at TPP, but then felt I could use a
refresher and so turned to my journals for inspiration. On December 1, 2012, as I was laughing over a
journal entry about Jared burning his mouth on hot chocolate, Lemur came down
the stairs and asked what was so funny.
I gave them a brief rundown of who Jared was. How we’d met when I was 14, and were in plays
together for years. I mentioned that we had
dated and were such good friends we wrote the entire time he was on his
mission!
“Do
you still have any of the letters, Mom?” Rivulet asked excitedly.
“Nope;
because just before I married your dad I decided to get rid of everything that any
other boy had ever given me.”
“Even
the bear?!” she asked in shock. (Referring to the bear Jared had given me for Christmas
in 1996)
“Even
the bear,” I said. “I thought it was what I had to do to move on.” Lemur nodded his head sagely and I continued,
“You want to know the worst part, though?
He called not too long after and asked for the letters back.”
Lemur's
eyes grew wide with anticipation of a story and he asked, “What did he say when
you told him, Mom?”
“I
didn’t tell him,” I admitted. “I said,
“Oh, well, we just moved and it may take me a while to find them. Then I never
called him back.” I even told them about the Edelweiss, a gift he had sent me for Christmas one year. As it turned out, it was the only one he'd ever found while on his mission in Austria. He'd sent it to me for safe-keeping and I'd thrown it in the garbage. I tried to tell the story with my usual
comedic flair.
But my children didn’t find it one bit funny. In
fact, they were outraged! “Mom! That was a lie!
You lied to your friend!”
“But
I was scared and ashamed,” I said. “How
could I tell him what I’d done?”
Lemur looked at me sternly, “You need to make it
right. You need to tell him what you did
and say you are sorry.”
“Oh
please,” I countered, “It’s been 11 years.
I’m sure it doesn’t even matter anymore.” And with that I put the
journal back into the cedar chest with all the others. It is at this point that my husband pipes up;
I didn’t even know he’d been listening.
“It still bothers you,
Sayyadina. Every time you talk about it
you cry; the kids are right.”
And
almost immediately I got this idea: to compile what I have of Jared’s life and his
influence on my life into one place and give it to him, so that I might ask for
his forgiveness. ~*~And so for the last two weeks I have rifled through my cedar chest, 14 journals, computer documents, files and scrapbooks to find every last entry of my first date, my first kiss, my first love. And then I typed them all into one document - absent of my signature sappy-ness - and have been preparing to give this record to him.
A few years ago when it was cool to do so, people were doing that "If the world ended who would you be in your primitive village as you rebuilt the world" thing on facebook. And I had answered that I would be the historian. I have a knack for it. I didn't realize how true that statement was.
I have since compiled over 60 pages of journal entries, stories, events and written memories about the times when this boy's life and mine intertwined. I had encouraged him for YEARS to keep his own journal. I have evidence of it, as I recorded that in Christmas of 1996 I had actually GIVEN him a journal of his own. And yet.... Well, this isn't the point of the story.
I was ashamed. I had carried for 11 years the guilt of throwing away literally hundreds of pages of this boy's history written in his own hand and then lying to him about it. He was a better friend than that. No matter anything else, he did not deserve to be lied to. And I have been not only carrying that guilt, but I've been punishing myself for the action.
Well, not anymore pal!
While making this record, I have been able to see with complete clarity how important he was to me. And the hand of God is blindingly evident in these events. I can see how fear and self-hatred coupled with attention and genuine affection to become a bastard emotion: co-dependant "love." Whatever I knew of myself before our romantic relationship was lost when that particular relationship ended. But it was never his fault. I gave myself up, because previous events he'd had no part in had taught me that what I was was "wrong," "too much" or otherwise "unloveavble." I can see now that I was looking for a big brother to protect me and tell me that I was loved. I was looking for that singular feeling of acceptence that comes from an older sibling and no one else. I was looking for my brother, John.
Again - not the point of the story.
Ahem. Long story short (too late!) I took three days after finishing the compilation to work up the guts to call this guy and ask when he'd be in town next or if I could mail it to him. We talked for a few minutes. And he asked me the purpose of my curiosity. Since we hadn't spoken in - oh - 6 years, it was a valid question. I confessed to him my wrong. I apologized. I told him I was attempting to make what restitution I could with this record. And he forgave me. How could I have ever doubted that he would? Above everything else, and before anything else, he had been a friend. He proved it again. In fact, he admitted he was "excited" to get to read the chronicle, as he could not remember much of anything from the years I had recorded.
And so here is the point of the story: Repentance. Forgiveness. Letting go. Humility. Faith. And the worth of recording one's life.
I am so grateful to have made such a large mistake. Because now I get the privilege of going through a full repentance process. I will be able to humbly make use of the gift Christ gave me when He gave his life for me. I make myself more worthy to return to Him.
I have been afraid of this mistake for so long. I did feel free and happy for a day or two....and then - believe it or not - I felt naked. I don't think I yet realize just HOW much I held onto and was formed by this guilt. Because it's like I removed a bunch of junk from my house and then am somehow afraid of the empty spaces. I guess it just means I have the chance to either downsize to a smaller house or fill it with other, more worthy thoughts.
And heaven knows I think plenty of thoughts. I'd better make sure they all have proper admission before just letting them in here, though. Some might be entering to vandalize or set up squatting privileges in a darkened corner of my mind. And fear of empty places only gives them a pile of fluff to build a nest.
I can see that the beginning of repentance, the becoming clean, brings with it responsibilities. And one might react like a child getting dressed for Sunday. If they are prone to dirt, it seems out of character and uncomfortable for them to stay clean and they will as quickly as possbile find a way to mar the improvements. Or, once one has been washed, one is more aware of one's cleanliness, feels loved and cared for and has a deep desire to stay clean as long as possible. Currently I am one and want to be the other. It really feels different.
Perhaps it would be a good use of my time and talents to next identify the places where I get speckles of "dirt" on my clean outfit, in the hopes that I might find a cleaner route.
And I acknowledge the great blessing and truth that even if/when I get dirty again, I may become clean again. Because Father and Christ love me just that much.
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