Today I'm feeling grateful that I had parents who could have afforded to buy me the moon, yet I secured a work permit and had an after school job at the age of 14, mostly paid for the things I wanted with my own money, and was handed nothing on a silver platter. My parents were my parents, not my BFFs, with very clearly defined expectations, rules and boundaries. I learned how to respect all people, regardless of their race, religion, sexual preference, political views, economic standing, relationship status, career choices or intelligence level. I learned that there are things in life we don't want to do but must, and therefore to slap a smile on my face and do what needs doing. I learned that who we are when no one is watching is who we truly are at our core. They taught me that if we wish to better our world, we should simply act, not spend time telling others of the great things we have done, for humility, in and of itself, makes the world a better place.
My father's death, far too soon, taught me that life is precious and short. It was an opportunity to reflect on what's truly important, which led me to the conclusion that to live with gratitude for what we have, not mourn that which we do not, is one of the keys to fulfillment. His death taught me that anger is a wasted emotion, being judgmental makes no one unhappy but oneself, and that taking out on other people that with which we struggle never makes us feel better; instead it generates guilt and, perhaps self-loathing. It reminded me to celebrate the unique gifts of each person whose lives we touch and who touch ours in return.
People often tell me I am "lucky" to have children who are considerate, respectful and compassionate. Typically, I would write "luck has nothing to do with it; raising nice kids is hard work"... and it surely is... but I realize now that I am lucky because I learned how to instill these qualities into my children through the living and dying examples of my own parents.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
It's Not Valentine's Day...
Yet I am reflecting upon love. Take that, Hallmark!
I stopped looking for a prince quite some time ago, vowing to be "awesome and unavailable" forever, swearing off that whole messy "relationship" thing. I loved with conviction while others loved with convenience and situational comfort, thus creating an emotional chasm which was exhausting and defeating. My attitude came from years of experiential learning that provided me with both formal and informal data on heartbreak and trustworthiness (specifically, a lack thereof).
I thought the curriculum I was supposed to learn was that I am the only person upon whom I can count, the only person who was truly committed to me and that it's better to be balanced as a single human being than to live within the confines of a relationship in which the power, passion, and all-in-edness sways sharply to one side or the other. It seemed, however, like a tough way to have to learn these things; it left me bruised and allowed me to build an almost impenetrable fortress around my heart.
Since then, though, I have learned how to live in the present. I've learned to live with my truth and the truth of others and accept nothing less of myself, while still showing compassion to and for those around me. I've learned to love from the edge of my soul and be open to incredible possibility, seeking out the good in others from the get go rather than requiring them to first prove that their presence in my life is value-added. It's a far better place in which to dwell.
I am incredibly grateful to the teachers I've had related to this subject matter; for they have taught me how to trust and allowed me the opportunity to be me, restoring my faith in the idea that people are inherently good and that there are, indeed, truly selfless people among us. They have reminded me of who I am at my core and reinforced my desire to never again compromise on the things I hold most sacred.
Today I realized that I was not wrong about my curriculum. I just needed some multi-modal teaching techniques in order to get it through my pea-sized brain and understand it from a more global perspective.
And so, with renewed effort, I shall be awesome and unavailable... yet incredibly content with myself in the present moment, open to new experiences and hopeful that my circle will continue to grow with people whose lights shine brightly with possibility.
I stopped looking for a prince quite some time ago, vowing to be "awesome and unavailable" forever, swearing off that whole messy "relationship" thing. I loved with conviction while others loved with convenience and situational comfort, thus creating an emotional chasm which was exhausting and defeating. My attitude came from years of experiential learning that provided me with both formal and informal data on heartbreak and trustworthiness (specifically, a lack thereof).
I thought the curriculum I was supposed to learn was that I am the only person upon whom I can count, the only person who was truly committed to me and that it's better to be balanced as a single human being than to live within the confines of a relationship in which the power, passion, and all-in-edness sways sharply to one side or the other. It seemed, however, like a tough way to have to learn these things; it left me bruised and allowed me to build an almost impenetrable fortress around my heart.
Since then, though, I have learned how to live in the present. I've learned to live with my truth and the truth of others and accept nothing less of myself, while still showing compassion to and for those around me. I've learned to love from the edge of my soul and be open to incredible possibility, seeking out the good in others from the get go rather than requiring them to first prove that their presence in my life is value-added. It's a far better place in which to dwell.
I am incredibly grateful to the teachers I've had related to this subject matter; for they have taught me how to trust and allowed me the opportunity to be me, restoring my faith in the idea that people are inherently good and that there are, indeed, truly selfless people among us. They have reminded me of who I am at my core and reinforced my desire to never again compromise on the things I hold most sacred.
Today I realized that I was not wrong about my curriculum. I just needed some multi-modal teaching techniques in order to get it through my pea-sized brain and understand it from a more global perspective.
And so, with renewed effort, I shall be awesome and unavailable... yet incredibly content with myself in the present moment, open to new experiences and hopeful that my circle will continue to grow with people whose lights shine brightly with possibility.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Why?
In my kingdom, I try very hard not to start a question with the word "why". Why, you ask?
Well, why questions tend to carry with them a certain amount of judgment. Often, it's subtle, but it's there. Even when our intentions are pure, asking a why question can put others on the defensive. If you try to eliminate why questions from your arsenal of phrases, you'll soon find that the responses you get are more thorough and less reactive.
That said, I stumbled across a why question today from someone who shares my view on why questions. The question was just a general "why?" with regard to the tragedy in Colorado.
Sometimes, all we really can do is wonder why... which is slightly different from asking a why question of someone else. Silently pondering why things are the way they are is important and helps shape the lens through which we view our worlds.
What happened in Colorado is a terrible, heartbreaking tragedy. There will never be an answer to the question "why?", at lest not one that is satisfactory or that makes sense. This, of course, makes "why?" not a great question, even just from an "I wonder..." perspective.
But, in a world where ugliness drives the headlines, we have to recognize that for every tragedy we are shown, there are many more triumphs. Sometimes, we just need to look longer and harder to find them.
Well, why questions tend to carry with them a certain amount of judgment. Often, it's subtle, but it's there. Even when our intentions are pure, asking a why question can put others on the defensive. If you try to eliminate why questions from your arsenal of phrases, you'll soon find that the responses you get are more thorough and less reactive.
That said, I stumbled across a why question today from someone who shares my view on why questions. The question was just a general "why?" with regard to the tragedy in Colorado.
Sometimes, all we really can do is wonder why... which is slightly different from asking a why question of someone else. Silently pondering why things are the way they are is important and helps shape the lens through which we view our worlds.
What happened in Colorado is a terrible, heartbreaking tragedy. There will never be an answer to the question "why?", at lest not one that is satisfactory or that makes sense. This, of course, makes "why?" not a great question, even just from an "I wonder..." perspective.
But, in a world where ugliness drives the headlines, we have to recognize that for every tragedy we are shown, there are many more triumphs. Sometimes, we just need to look longer and harder to find them.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I Hear You.
One of the most basic human needs is the need to feel heard. However, it occurs to me that few people have the ability to truly listen empathically. There are times when making someone feel heard might just be the most important thing we can do for another human being, and I believe that many of us are falling down on the job. Perhaps even more concerning is that most people think they are good listeners; however, if we take the time to listen to the world around us, we can quickly learn that this simply isn't the case.
There are those who are unable to hear because, while someone is speaking, their very busy brains are already thinking about what they are going to say as soon as there's a pause. This means that, at some point, they stop listening to what else is being said; they are forming thoughts and sentences in their heads before the speaker is done. There are people who interrupt so frequently that those around them can't fully express themselves. These folks can't wait to get their thoughts out there, regardless of whether or not it relates to the conversation at hand or how it makes the speaker feel in the moment. There are also the one uppers and story tellers who, rather than processing what's been said, want to immediately throw in their own experience. Even when it relates to the conversation, this has the ability to minimize what was shared.
And so I ask you to just shut up and listen. Don't be afraid of silent spaces... sometimes more is said through silence than through words. Sometimes the silence encourages the people we care most about to share even more than they might otherwise have. Find a way to focus only on the words being spoken in the moment, rather than on the thoughts running rampant through your mind. Ask "is there more?" before responding. Know there is a time and a place for story telling, but that when someone truly needs to feel heard, the spotlight must be theirs alone.
There are those who are unable to hear because, while someone is speaking, their very busy brains are already thinking about what they are going to say as soon as there's a pause. This means that, at some point, they stop listening to what else is being said; they are forming thoughts and sentences in their heads before the speaker is done. There are people who interrupt so frequently that those around them can't fully express themselves. These folks can't wait to get their thoughts out there, regardless of whether or not it relates to the conversation at hand or how it makes the speaker feel in the moment. There are also the one uppers and story tellers who, rather than processing what's been said, want to immediately throw in their own experience. Even when it relates to the conversation, this has the ability to minimize what was shared.
And so I ask you to just shut up and listen. Don't be afraid of silent spaces... sometimes more is said through silence than through words. Sometimes the silence encourages the people we care most about to share even more than they might otherwise have. Find a way to focus only on the words being spoken in the moment, rather than on the thoughts running rampant through your mind. Ask "is there more?" before responding. Know there is a time and a place for story telling, but that when someone truly needs to feel heard, the spotlight must be theirs alone.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
And So It Goes.
Yesterday The Queen said some truly terrible things to me. Things that I would never say to my children, no matter what the circumstance. She accused me of things I've not done... and even if I had, they weren't particularly egregious errors (not responding to a particular email in a timely enough manner, for example). She told me who I am as a daughter, a mother, and a person, and where my motivations lie, none of which was positive, and I'd have to say that her assessment of me is so far from the truth that it only served to illuminate the fact that she has no clue about who I am at my core.
She then decided to say some decidedly horrible things about my father. It was a blame game. She doesn't want to own anything or imagine that she could be the root of any problems she has faced, and so projected her feelings about herself and her situation onto me and my father, who, incidentally, died 22 years ago.
I listened empathically, with growing concern, eventually asking, "what is this REALLY about?" which only made her more agitated. It did come out that my brother was diagnosed with something fairly unpleasant, and between that and the fact that he's not been kind to his body for much of his life, the picture is bleak. I understand that I was an easy target, but this came completely out of left field, was so hurtful and uncalled for, and her assessment so tragically inaccurate. I'm not angry with her... I simply told her that I was sad for her because it was clear to me she was under a lot of stress and that it was manifesting itself in a way that wasn't serving anyone. I reminded her that life is short and precious and there's no room to allow anger and fear to eat at our souls.
Her parting words to me were that it looks like I have a good life ahead of me and she wishes me well. I thanked her. As I hung up the phone I thought about karma and put out into the universe my wish for her to find some inner peace.
Shortly after my conversation with her, I saw a postcard that read:
I choose...
- to live by choice, not by chance
- to be motivated, not manipulated
- to be useful, not used
- to make changes, not excuses
- to excel, not compete
I choose self-esteem, not self pity.
I choose to listen to my inner voice, not the random opinions of others.
And so it goes.
She then decided to say some decidedly horrible things about my father. It was a blame game. She doesn't want to own anything or imagine that she could be the root of any problems she has faced, and so projected her feelings about herself and her situation onto me and my father, who, incidentally, died 22 years ago.
I listened empathically, with growing concern, eventually asking, "what is this REALLY about?" which only made her more agitated. It did come out that my brother was diagnosed with something fairly unpleasant, and between that and the fact that he's not been kind to his body for much of his life, the picture is bleak. I understand that I was an easy target, but this came completely out of left field, was so hurtful and uncalled for, and her assessment so tragically inaccurate. I'm not angry with her... I simply told her that I was sad for her because it was clear to me she was under a lot of stress and that it was manifesting itself in a way that wasn't serving anyone. I reminded her that life is short and precious and there's no room to allow anger and fear to eat at our souls.
Her parting words to me were that it looks like I have a good life ahead of me and she wishes me well. I thanked her. As I hung up the phone I thought about karma and put out into the universe my wish for her to find some inner peace.
Shortly after my conversation with her, I saw a postcard that read:
I choose...
- to live by choice, not by chance
- to be motivated, not manipulated
- to be useful, not used
- to make changes, not excuses
- to excel, not compete
I choose self-esteem, not self pity.
I choose to listen to my inner voice, not the random opinions of others.
And so it goes.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Happy Mothers' Day To Me
Dear Exhibits A, B and C,
This Mothers' Day, I wanted to take a moment to tell you how lucky I feel to be your mother.
You are the most important people in my world, and being there for each of you, providing you with everything you need, is the best job I can ever imagine. Saying "I'm the Exhibits' Mom" brings me more happiness and pride than any other title ever could.
Being your mother has taught me about unconditional love. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about how to be the best mom I can be. You three are my first thought upon waking and my last thought when I close my eyes at night. I hope you know that you are my shining stars, understand how very much you are loved, and realize that I will always be here for you to listen, to help, to admire the amazing people that you are. There is nothing you can't talk to me about, no problem too big, no happiness too small to share.
Exhibit A: you were my very first wish come true, and ever since the day you were born, you have helped me define who I am at my core. You have taught me about passion and commitment. I remember the very first time you put on a pair of ballet shoes at three years old... how when you would kick your foot into the air your shoe would fly across the floor. I never imagined that all these years later, you would still love dance just as much as you did that day. I smile to myself when I watch you cross a room, never just walking, but, rather, leaping, pirouetting, floating. Seeing your dedication to dance, despite the injuries and obstacles you've recently faced, has reminded me that when we commit to something, we follow through. I hope that you have learned this by example, but somehow, even if it weren't for me constantly harping on its importance, I think it's just part of who you are, and it's a part of you I greatly admire. Today and every day, I celebrate your light, your love, and your laughter.
Exhibit B: I will never forget finding out I was expecting and deciding to make the news a Christmas surprise for your father. I was bursting with excitement but trying to keep my cool... no easy task. While I miss the hugs and kisses you used to dole out freely as a little boy, being able to talk with the more grown up you and hear your amazing thoughts, ideas and stories makes my heart sing. One of my favorite things about you is that you never, ever leave the house or hang up the phone without telling me you love me, even if we've only talked for a short time, and even if we were together just moments before. You have no idea how many smiles that brings my way. I love that you already understand the importance of telling the people you care about how you feel at every opportunity. Today, and always, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to celebrate your intelligence, your steady determination, your quiet strength and your sense of humor.
Exhibit C: From the moment I first saw you with those big, beautiful eyes and long eyelashes looking back at me, I knew you were special. Seeing you in the NICU was incredibly hard, but watching you fight your way back to good health then and through your first few years made me realize from moment one just how strong you are. You make me smile and laugh each day with your stories, your jokes and your sweet snuggles. You are so smart and always come up with new and interesting things to share with me. One of my greatest pleasures is hearing you problem solve and understanding exactly how that amazing little mind works. Your unadulterated excitement about anything and everything, no matter how big or small, reminds me daily that in little things, there is happiness. Your love of learning and enthusiasm for life inspire me today and every day.
There would be no Mothers' Day for me without you three... and I thank you for trusting me and loving me and reminding me of what's truly important in life.
Thank you for you.
~ Mom
This Mothers' Day, I wanted to take a moment to tell you how lucky I feel to be your mother.
You are the most important people in my world, and being there for each of you, providing you with everything you need, is the best job I can ever imagine. Saying "I'm the Exhibits' Mom" brings me more happiness and pride than any other title ever could.
Being your mother has taught me about unconditional love. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about how to be the best mom I can be. You three are my first thought upon waking and my last thought when I close my eyes at night. I hope you know that you are my shining stars, understand how very much you are loved, and realize that I will always be here for you to listen, to help, to admire the amazing people that you are. There is nothing you can't talk to me about, no problem too big, no happiness too small to share.
Exhibit A: you were my very first wish come true, and ever since the day you were born, you have helped me define who I am at my core. You have taught me about passion and commitment. I remember the very first time you put on a pair of ballet shoes at three years old... how when you would kick your foot into the air your shoe would fly across the floor. I never imagined that all these years later, you would still love dance just as much as you did that day. I smile to myself when I watch you cross a room, never just walking, but, rather, leaping, pirouetting, floating. Seeing your dedication to dance, despite the injuries and obstacles you've recently faced, has reminded me that when we commit to something, we follow through. I hope that you have learned this by example, but somehow, even if it weren't for me constantly harping on its importance, I think it's just part of who you are, and it's a part of you I greatly admire. Today and every day, I celebrate your light, your love, and your laughter.
Exhibit B: I will never forget finding out I was expecting and deciding to make the news a Christmas surprise for your father. I was bursting with excitement but trying to keep my cool... no easy task. While I miss the hugs and kisses you used to dole out freely as a little boy, being able to talk with the more grown up you and hear your amazing thoughts, ideas and stories makes my heart sing. One of my favorite things about you is that you never, ever leave the house or hang up the phone without telling me you love me, even if we've only talked for a short time, and even if we were together just moments before. You have no idea how many smiles that brings my way. I love that you already understand the importance of telling the people you care about how you feel at every opportunity. Today, and always, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to celebrate your intelligence, your steady determination, your quiet strength and your sense of humor.
Exhibit C: From the moment I first saw you with those big, beautiful eyes and long eyelashes looking back at me, I knew you were special. Seeing you in the NICU was incredibly hard, but watching you fight your way back to good health then and through your first few years made me realize from moment one just how strong you are. You make me smile and laugh each day with your stories, your jokes and your sweet snuggles. You are so smart and always come up with new and interesting things to share with me. One of my greatest pleasures is hearing you problem solve and understanding exactly how that amazing little mind works. Your unadulterated excitement about anything and everything, no matter how big or small, reminds me daily that in little things, there is happiness. Your love of learning and enthusiasm for life inspire me today and every day.
There would be no Mothers' Day for me without you three... and I thank you for trusting me and loving me and reminding me of what's truly important in life.
Thank you for you.
~ Mom
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunflowers
I'm a sucker for sunflowers, it's true. A single sunflower, whether in a vase or along the side of a road, never fails to bring a smile to my face.
A long time ago, back when I was too young to understand and appreciate the Queen's infinite wisdom, she sat me down to discuss my desire to live happily ever after with a boy she didn't deem worthy. She told me that if I thought he was "the one" I should know that while there would always be food on my table, there would never be flowers in my vase. At the time, I brushed it off and, more than likely, rolled my eyes.
Years later, I now understand the importance of balance in a relationship. Without a few sunflowers along the way, it's tough to truly enjoy the daily commute.
A long time ago, back when I was too young to understand and appreciate the Queen's infinite wisdom, she sat me down to discuss my desire to live happily ever after with a boy she didn't deem worthy. She told me that if I thought he was "the one" I should know that while there would always be food on my table, there would never be flowers in my vase. At the time, I brushed it off and, more than likely, rolled my eyes.
Years later, I now understand the importance of balance in a relationship. Without a few sunflowers along the way, it's tough to truly enjoy the daily commute.
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