Tag Archives: Ruminations

Blue in a Good Way

How did blue get to mean sad?

Such a soft, calming color…

Anyway,

I’ve been feeling blue lately

(in the traditional sense)

and for no specific reason

and it’s kind of intense

I can be that way

if that’s the song I need to sing

but I would like to move on through

…and then evolve into something

in the joyful shade of blue.

Advertisements

A Riddle

I awake in the night

uninspired

apprehensive

growing tired

jumping to conclusions

without a net

about what will happen

what will I get?

and how?

’til a thought trickles in, saying,

What about now?

I am well

truth to tell

in the midst of this life

So I say a little prayer

of gratitude

Give myself a dose

of latitude

and fall asleep

listening to that guy

What’s his name?

Is he deep?

as he explain things fully?

Was it Dick VanPatton

or

Eckhart Tolle?

 

Note to Self

Remember to remember

to not get too far ahead

in your head

and get all concerned

about getting it all done

at work

do what you can and

then

let it be what it be

Been here before

and somehow

it got done

or it didn’t

and the world carries on

in that way it has

I might as well relax

after all

 

 

 

Nothing Much

I am under the illusion

that it could be very good

while entertaining some confusion

as I almost always would

As I study on delusion

it begins to call me out

Do I over-rate my judgment

and my certainty

…and doubt?

 

Words Resounding

I’m an idiot

I’m awkward

I’m socially inept

I’m clever

I’m witty

and you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet

I vacillate from certainty

to knowing not one thing

yet, aspects of living

have loud, familiar rings

and in the smooth

and in the rough

one could become

all kinds of stuff

while wandering

– still undaunted-

and quite possibly

enough

 

What is the Point?

IMG_4387Sketchy at best

Unpredictable and blurry

All the ways we are blessed

Can be gone in a hurry

And yet we persist

and we try not to worry

(which, by the way, is not an easy task)

Still,  what is the point?

(I almost forgot to ask)

since life is what we have 

all amazing and quirky

Is it all about making

really good soup

and meeting who you meet

and running through snow

in your stocking feet?

(which you might want to try if you ever get the chance)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Practice of Sorts

Break free

Move to higher ground

Avoid future traps

Opportunities abound

Cliches may be predictable

But a grain of truth resides

Rumination may not lead the way

Who is the who who decides?

Break free and then break free

Develop new rituals that take you

     where you want to be.

Just like you brush your teeth —

      you could habitually take a walk

           or chronically notice the good stuff.

You are enough.

“My experience is what I agree to attend to.” said William James.

 

 

Christmas Past

December 26, 2010
Comfort or Joy
Second chances
Second guesses
Second hand
Second grade
Second rate

I second guess myself and over-analyze. How to stop? Stop.
Remind your second-guessing brain that enough is enough and even if you weren’t great, the best or even okay it’s okay and you are in there trying, and that is good enough. Make friends with good enough.

Ayn Rand and the Catholic proselytizers (not necessarily in that order)
got me way too fixated on perfection.
Let it be what it is. Perfection is not even a reasonable goal for brilliant people, never mind, me.
Since I have a predilection to worry and fret, that is what I usually do.
I would like to find a way replace that predilection with something that feels better
When I worry and even wonder excessively about what will happen, what already did, or what I should or shouldn’t say, it provides no comfort or joy.

Sometimes I begin to understand that whatever happens, I will manage. I will fear no man or woman and I will remember that my intentions are good and my work is verifiable. And if that is not enough, I can move on. Whatever happens, I can be pretty damn happy. As Abraham Lincoln once said, “A man is just about as happy as he makes his mind up to be.”

and further remember:
Only Art Van can bring you the ultimate winter close-out sale,
and only God can make a tree

Happy Boxing Day!
IMG_1867

Oblivious

Perhaps I need to be a little more oblivious. Just be. Thinking it through ’til you can’t even move is highly over rated.

To Be Understood – To Understand

One of my goals for the time I have over and above sixty years, is to become less interested in being understood.   It causes a lot of inner anguish and more than enough outer crankiness when I feel misunderstood.  Why is that so important to me?  (I just glanced at the clock and it said 7:52.  I was born on the 7th day of October in 1952.  Random coincidence?  Or cosmic message?  Random.  Probably.)

One day, not too many weeks ago, I found myself practically sobbing for a few minutes.  Something I read hit a nerve and got me to thinking that maybe the reason it means so much to me for things to make sense is because when I was just under two years old, I was left in a hospital in Chicago and my parents didn’t take me with them when they had to go home.  My mom stayed over for some nights but often had to go and tend to her other children and arrange things for them — and my dad had to work.

I was, I believe in retrospect, appalled by this and it just never could make sense to a two-year-old — it was beyond a two-year-old capability for understanding.  I adjusted and recovered (from polio, but that’s another story altogether).

It hit me that day, not too many weeks ago, that it is not so much the memory I carry with me (a rather hazy memory at best), but the emotion that carries on.  Something I read suggested such a connection and I found myself in tears as if it were all happening right now; as if I were experiencing it all over again. The emotion isn’t hazy at all; it lives in some part of my self.  My brain?  Soul?  And it does not fade.  Even though I understand as an adult (and even as an older child I understood) why they left me there and it makes sense after all, that experience is imprinted there – somewhere.  I had been abandoned and I didn’t know why.  The memory fades, but the experience stays intact and makes a mark that is cut in for good. 

What is the point here?    I started out early in dire need of an explanation and I experience that perceived need to this day.  This idea that the emotion lives on, suggests that I could be a little more compassionate toward myself and less demanding that I understand everything and be understood.  Just because it’s part of my story, doesn’t mean I have to continue to require immediate understanding about everything that comes up.  Something about that idea allowed me to relax a bit.

That all sounded better in my head.  I haven’t quite sorted it all out yet.