If not Equal, then Level

             Merry Equinox to one all All!  Okay, maybe not ALL.  But in this time of chaos, what you won’t hear from me is anything topical, medical, global, nor political.  None of that in this space right now.

             It’s everywhere else, it doesn’t need to be here.  Instead, we’ll be focusing on Care.  Care for ourselves.  In whatever form that takes.

             Care for others, if we are able.  Again, in whatever form that takes.

             There is to be no judgment at this time.  We can’t afford it.  We are all doing the best we can with what we have.  To say that Our Way is “better” than someone else’s is to cause the biggest hurt.

             We don’t know how others are coping, we must look only within.  We must be more gentle than ever.  We must be kind.  Patient.  And filled with LovingKindess.

             I’m not negating the fact that many of us are in pain and discomfort, and that we shouldn’t experience our feelings.  While we acknowledge these emotions, we have to remember about permanence.  Nothing lasts forever.   Not even horrible and weird uncertainty.

             We have control over how we react.  And how we move forward.  Or, how we may be sitting still.  We have control over how we breathe.

            During this moment, let us allow ourselves (and each other) to Be.  To breathe.  To have some space and some healing.  It can only help.

 

 

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Short and Wide, Beige and Aged

             To look at me, you probably wouldn’t first jump to:

Mexican, Irish, Native American.

             Your immediate reaction might be:

old, fat, that’s a strange assortment of garments she has on/that’s alotta tattoos.

             While it is true that I now mostly dress in such a way as to be confused for Queen Victoria-after-Albert-died, this has not always been the case.

             I can never claim fashion, but I will take credit for a certain eclectic style.  And it’s that individuality which has come to my attention recently.

             To be “normal” has never been my goal.  Down that road was bland averageness.  Around that corner only dull indistinctness could be found.

             During this current political climate, it is in our best interest to remain aware, while also holding on to our compassion.  The Universe would like us to make sure we are taking notice of

Representation.

             No one, including the first people, originated here.  The proto-humans came from somewhere else.  To claim ownership of the land is wrong, on all levels.  To claim “better than” when discussing people cannot even be considered.  The immorality of it must be addressed, until it is gone.

             My mother was born in California, as were her ancestors.  We can trace them back farther than the age of the state, farther back than the age of this country.  My dad’s mom has lineage reaching out across the prairies and plains, older than America, older than our (racist) founding fathers.

             My father’s father’s people left Ireland when there wasn’t enough food, arriving on the shores of New York, not at all welcomed, but tolerated for the labor they could provide.  They took (were forced into?) jobs nobody else wanted.  Just as so many of my family members did, for generations upon generations.

             I come from people who struggled, who were oppressed.  My poverty is part of my lineage.  I am a blend of hardship and sorrow.  You look at me now, though, and all that anyone sees is age, and size.

             At every opportunity, I tell my story.  I share my mixed heritage.  I wear my inked skin proudly, so all who cross my path can see the history we are now living.  I am representing my past, my people, all of the families and the workers and the individuals who came before me.

             When we sit quietly, we can often get overlooked.  When we show up, stand tall, call out in loud voices, we are more easily noticed.  I want to be noticed.  I want strangers to ask who my people are.  I want to be understood for who I came from, and what they suffered.

                         The stories of our past are important in our present.  We are in this together, shouldn’t we share knowledge? Shouldn’t we rejoice as we move ahead into a place of acceptance, a future we can look forward to?

             Let’s be proud of who we are.  Representing honestly, that’s how we help, that’s how we make a difference.

 

 

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Continued Observations In Grace

             As the overwhelming negativity continues everywhere we turn (I recently heard someone say the ocean is dead, why even try), as we approach a very hope-filled, jubilant (but traditionally controversial) weekend, I try my best to stay over on the positive side.  I am actively practicing my gratitude.

             In fact, I am practicing this reframed alternative mindset now, as I jot my notes in the rattiest old laundry-mat* I’ve had the pleasure of visiting in several decades.  My reality is this: machines continue to fail, our internet is fucking worthless, people disappoint, and neighbors kill trees.

             I don’t give up (like I used to ….. as much).  Instead, now I

rise above.

             It’s been challenging, let me just say.  Things aren’t going as I thought they would, nor even, as I’d like them to.  The difference?  My attitude.

             I understand more/better/some bits on a deeper level.  My observations are farther reaching.  My soul-sensibility is heightened.  Much of the garbage is rolling off, away from me, so that the stench is not nearly as noticeable as it once was.

             Do I still take most things personally?  Pretty much on the regular.  I am a “highly sensitive” individual, so I truly can’t help that aspect of my personality.  My only way around this emotional reaction is to sit with all the feelings.  Hold them, allow them to find the space they need.  Then, I (try!) to release them, so they can fly off to wherever is their next destination.

             This idea of our own uplifted perception is not even close to new (and definitely not mine), it is the basis of ancient religions and spiritual paths across the world.  It is entirely simple, but does take some getting used to.  It does take us a while to live it.  (Our entire life, basically.)

             Very similar to how I have decided to cope with the upcoming warm weather, I am rebranding it in this acceptance mode.  I can’t stop it, but I can look forward to it being over.   Every hot day I suffer through, brings me one blessed step closer to fall, and the welcome cool once again.

A closed door always means there has to be an open window, someplace. It’s up to us to find it.

*I know that’s not how it’s spelled.  I just like it better this way.  This is me, finding joy in small ways.

 

 

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To Be True

             Sometimes our messages are thematic.  This is one of those cases.  Last week we spoke of forgiveness and allowing that grace to start from within, to begin the growth and kindness process with our own inner spark.

             We were encouraged to shine, to care, and to share absolution on our own worthy selves.  Now, I’m hearing something similar.  A reassurance that we can trust, we can be confident.

Believe Yourself

             In the scope of mental health, we are not always strong enough to give our own feelings and thoughts the honor they deserve.  Our brains can play tricks on us.  We question our very heart and mind.  It can be so challenging to know when, what to have faith in.

             There are ways to get help, there are tools we can use, tricks we can learn.  But we often don’t feel truly equipped to be the sole source of knowledge.  So we doubt.  We wobble.

             Right now, we are being reminded that we DO have what it takes to accomplish those tasks ahead of us.  We DO have the strength.

             Once we have forgiven, once we have apologized to our own bodies, the next natural step is to move forward.  To trust that our inner wisdom has not left us.

             Our spirit knows, even if our mind continues to quietly question, we can feel assured that yes, our instincts are good, and our inner judgment can be relied upon.

             At this time, we can count on, and believe in, ourselves.

 

 

 

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Rising Tide

             My relationship with food had been complicated for as far back as I can recall.  When I was fast approaching 50, I believed this was a unique situation.  Turns out, not so much.

             Our culture has raised generation after generation of fucked up eaters.  It’s as if we set out to do as much damage as possible, then sit back and collect all the money from ways to make it better.  (And by “we” I don’t me or you, at all.  I mean the MadMen, the misogynistic and selfish white shitheads who have been holding our power for far too long.  And by “better” I mean far worse.)

             Now that I am closing in on 60, my education on this topic has been deep and painful.  I have spent the last nearly nine years climbing out from under a lifetime of shame, guilt, and man-made (literally, made by men, and sure, a few women) falsehoods which, quite honestly, nearly killed me.  (And I can’t say whether they factored into the death of my sister or not, but I will stand strong in my belief that they didn’t help her health at all.)

             In a restaurant the other night, as our meal was nearly concluded, a young woman sat down behind me.  Well, she tried to, but my chair (and the empty one next to it, where I’d piled up a stack of personal belongings) was in her way.

             I began to rearrange furniture, as she laughed and said that this was something she herself often did.  I was glad to hear it.  She was a lovely (and funny) girl.

             It had been on my mind earlier that the fantastic tearing down of diet culture and enhanced inclusiveness movement is really gaining momentum.  We are all seeing the signs and messages of how, collectively, WE are no longer going to take the lies and the garbage any longer.

             As Dan and I were leaving, our table-neighbor and her dinner partner told us goodnight/have a nice evening, we did the same.  But then, I turned back to my new friend, and said:

take up space!

             A huge smile appeared on her face, and she replied enthusiastically, “you, too!”  We shared this small sisterhood, we knew what we were saying.  We were part of the change, not part of the problem.

             This message, this phrase, is about self-worth.  It’s a way of being in our own skin, and feeling good there.  It’s something we should all be sharing, at every opportunity.

             She and I connected because we knew that no matter our  size, no matter our age, no matter our gender/identification, no matter our ANYthing, we have the right to be treated with care.  Basic rights are our basic foundation.  I couldn’t have been more proud of her if she had been my own daughter.

             In that moment, we both knew each other.  We shared a connection which is the new direction our world is turning.  Hope, lovingkindness.  It’s our future.

(For more on “taking up space” all one needs to do is run a quick search and a huge number of hits will appear.  If this is something you’ve not heard of until now, I highly encourage following-up.)

Today’s Sharing:

             is below, it’s my most recent view.  My January page.  I spent the month looking at this tranquil scene.

             One of the hashtags I’m currently following (for my mental health, and self-care) on Instagram is Sea Glass.  I found THESE FOLKS from there.  And I can’t even say how very happy their calendar makes me.

 

 

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