Needy

"When you ask how I am, it comes across as needy and it is unattractive!" ...those words hit me like the discharge of a skunk. Putrid, overwhelming, and foul, the words filled the air with a smell not easily escaped. I sat stunned for a second from both shock and amazement.

Before me sat a person I had spent fifteen years of my life loving, accommodating, coddling, and appeasing. When difficult times arose I would bravely face the problems alone and carry the load no matter how heavy or painful, all the while protecting and shielding this person with what at times seemed my last breath. When conflict came I helped them, by coaxing and pleading, to communicate and enable change to emerge. I supported, cared for, stood up for, cooked for, cleaned for, created a loving sense of family for, and nursed them when they fell ill. I couldn't tell you how many hours I spent helping them with their school work and problems in life. I dealt with moodiness, whining, immaturity, and at times extreme selfishness.  I was always there putting them way above my own needs and wants. And I am the needy one?

Thoughts raced through my head as my memory shouted its' records. I wondered how it is in this twisted mind that has been in need of so much love, patiences, maturity, and long suffering  that that label could even be uttered in regard to someone else. Was it self hatred that loathed any one who dare care? Was it a poor upbringing that led to this delusion? Or has society become so tarnished that to care is needy and to be selfish is strength?

As time has passed, I often think of the look on their face, the disdain in their voice, and the sneer on their lips. Their words were dipped in selfishness and neediness. The need to tear down a good soul. The need to damage a good heart so their own feels more at ease. The need to control the world around them not realizing that if the world were to be as they deem, no one would care. Never once realizing that the selfish people in this world are truly the neediest people of all!

For they are the ones that need someone to tolerate them, to support them, look out for them, love them even though they may never get that love back. They need others to clean up their messes, wipe their brow, give them a break, shield them, and be a shoulder to cry on. Most of all they need someone they can trust! And believe me, no one selfish would do that for another person ever unless there was something they could gain.... and can you really call that trust?

And maybe this is the problem. Maybe if we gathered up all the truly selfish needy people in the world and forced them to live together, maybe at some point they would learn. Perhaps after dealing with other people who are truly needy, they would figure out what "needy" really is. If all of us who are the opposite of needy, the ones who care for everyone else, the souls who cry and suffer alone, the truly strong ones, were to stop throwing our pearls before swine, maybe then the swine would cease to be.

I do not know

I do know I am the extreme opposite of needy. I carry burdens and loads far heavier and painful then the world around me would ever know. And while I do this, I smile genuinely, laugh purely, love fiercely, protect my world with my life, and all often with a song in my heart or on my lips. I do not whine or complain, do not put my needs before others, and am loyal to a fault. I have been knocked about in this life many many times, yet I rise from the ashes still loving and kind.

Kindness despite mistreatment and misfortune takes courage and strength. Love even when betrayed and taken advantage of takes a heart pure and truly otherworldly. And a good soul surrounded by evil, heartache, and pain yet remains good and true takes a soul of unfathomable worth, for it is a soul that can not be bought or sold. All these are signs of strength and indipendance.

No dear soul, needy does not describe me!

It may describe you. It may describe the way you choose to see the world. It may describe many other people in this world. But you need to examine the truly needy souls in life. For they are not the ones that care despite their own needs. They are the ones who can not spare kindness or love for fear. They are the ones who lash out in immaturity and poison uncaring of the effects on the world about them. They are the sad souls who miss out on so much goodness right before them because of their yet unfulfilled destiny to evolve into the creatures God intended them to truly be.

So the next time my dear one you want to call someone needy, think long and hard about who and what that really means.

Dancing Lessons in the Storm

Almost since I can remember I have been learning. Thankfully it is something that, either because of my upbringing or personality, I often truly enjoy. There are many lessons learned however that I have never been that found of. Those are the ones I gained through pain, sorrow, misery, heartache, embarrassment, losing someone or something, and stress.

The past five years have been a lesson indeed though, to be honest, I am not always sure what lessons I am to glean. Sometimes I am afraid that in all the hurt, stress, and sorrow I may miss the lesson for the pain.

This is frightening to me because I am a firm believer that once a lesson is learned, you move on. However, if the lesson is not yet learned, it will come around again until you realize and not only learn, but put your new found knowledge to use. I do not want to repeat uncomfortable situations. Nor do I want to repeat mistakes. Sometimes I panic and feel that if I just hurry up and learn the lesson, I can emerge from the mire.

Then I realized something. I am always doing that! I push through and rush on, stubbornly pressing on to overcome, learn, fix, patch, conquer, and squelch any and all problems that come into my life or the life of those I love and care for. Maybe just maybe THAT is my lesson.

Maybe I need to learn to have peace and calm IN the storm. Perhaps within the storm is my answer, my still small voice. Could it be my lesson is to learn to dance in the rain? To sleep through the storm? To have so much love, joy, and peace within that no storm can rile me?

I look back over my life and I realize that every time something negative has happened, I lower my head, wrap those I love in my arms, and head strong, push through. I don't really stop to rest or even breath. Do I get through? Absolutely! But at what cost?

I am in a storm. One that threatens to smash my soul upon the rocks. To steal my child like faith. To crush my passion and love. Panic, anger, fear, sorrow, and urgency are awakened within me. I am betrayed, used, hurt and lost. I long to run headlong into the fight, punching my way through the fray, conquering all in my way, and coming out on the other side victorious!

At last though I pause...

IF I conquer, what is lost? If I battle, what do I slay? And if I constantly fight, what toll will it take on my health, person, my soul? A light seems to filter into my mind and heart. I think of a movie I once watched where someone realized that everything is perception. What you choose to believe is often so. And most importantly, you control more then you often realize.

And so, though with fear and uncertainty, I am learning to stand my ground. I am learning to truly find peace in the storm. I am finding things don't have to be so scary when you hold on to His hand. I am learning to draw my lines where I am. To face the rage without fear or urgency. Seeing things for what they really are and how, in the scheme of this vast universe, small and insignificant they will soon become. As the bullets fly about me, I am slowing down, thinking, praying, pausing, and sometimes most difficult and important... breathing.

 Am I frightened? At times almost petrified! This is not my style! I fight by jumping, zig-zagging, creeping, crawling, running, smashing, crashing, and quickly conquering. It seems though a new lesson is to be learned. One where I stand my ground. Where I flee no more. A lesson that takes more strength then before, for now I must face with calm clarity the beast before me. I will have to be more aware and precise. My mind must be at peace and calm. Decisions made need be weighed carefully with a clear mind and peaceful heart. None of these are easy in battle. It is much easier to fight or,I believe for some, to hide. But that is not dancing in the rain, it is not sleeping through the storm. There is no peace or calm, only fear and angst.

So I am putting this battle into slow motion. I am carefully weighing every move and action. I am taking time to breath and laugh, to love and connect, to cherish and create. And though there are times I am not sure I can stand another minute, I can dodge another bullet, I pause. And then I see an encouraging post from a friend, something that makes me laugh, beauty in the eyes of those about me, a message of love or hope received, a rainbow in the sky above me, a beautiful moon that wraps me in its' soft glow, a bible verse I remembered just because, or a song that makes me feel invincible. Then I realize my table is spread before me in the presence of my enemies yet I will fear no evil. I can not control the storm about me, but I control the one I am within.

So while the calm days with warm sun rays and scented breezes are enjoyed, I am learning to enjoy my storms too. I do not have this lesson learned as of yet and I do not know if I will ever be so blessed as to fully enjoy myself through the conflicts of life. But I love to laugh, I love to smile, I love to feel peace, and I love to dance! So, when the storms do unleash their rage about me, I pray I can sleep through the rage and dance in the storm.

My Ripples

When I was a child my father filled a bucket with water. He then called his three children to his side and said "Now stick your hand in there and splash it around!!" So we did with much joy and glee. Then he said "Now take your hands out" Once again we followed his instructions and waited with anticipation of what would come next, after all this was fun! "Now" he said, "where is the hole?" We looked at him with puzzled faces. Why would we look for a hole? Of course there would not be a hole. Why would there? "Ah!" he continued, "there is no hole! And that is how life is. You can work hard and make a splash, but in the end, things will be as they were before you. There will be no hole left when you are gone. So remember, you are replaceable."

Our happy faces soon turned to puzzled ones as we were dismissed. And our demeanors had gone from joyful to serious. But I never forgot that lesson at my father's side and sadly for many years I believed it.

Until one day I read a book and realized, there may not be a hole but what a lot of things waves, ripples, and drops caused by all that splashing can do. In fact there is no telling how far reaching these might be. Yet, I still had so much more to learn! And tonight I realized one of them.

While I may have realized I can live my life in such a way that I am not replaceable, I did not realize after a life of believing I was, I have surrounded myself with many people that treat me as if I am. People that take me for granted. People that do not really believe I am priceless, valuable, and irreplaceable. And tonight, after years of hurting because of their treatment, I realized it is my fault. Oh! Do not mis-understand! I take no responsibility for their carelessness with my heart, love, and devotion! That is not with-in my control and is totally their fault. But I kept letting them do it!

I cried and tried to change them and their thinking over and over! I blamed myself for being too fat, too unattractive, too needy, too passionate, too naive, too romantic, too stubborn, too straight, ... And I was right, it was my fault! But not for any of those reasons. It was because I allowed them to keep doing it to me!

They did it to me!! And I hurt and cried and suffered... I plead, and begged, and coaxed... I struggled, and fell, and became crushed.... And I stayed... I stayed... And I let them do it over and over and over!

Not just for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months....but for years!!!!

I did that....

I allowed that....

And I am not sure how to change it

I am not sure changing it will make things over all better or worse.


But I am sure I am going to learn to never ever let anyone treat me less then who I really am. I must not let them smoother the passion, joy, love, desire, romance, whimsy, and laughter from my chest!! They must not silence my true voice!!

They may shout " There is no hole"

In reply I will smile and laugh with pure love and joy and reply " Yes, that is true!! But now everything is wet!! And just try to stop my ripples!!!!"

Cavities

A birthday came round the other day, as they tend to every now and then in a family with eight people. Since it was the birthday of an adult, and no real party was to take place, we went to a store and every child was allowed the treat of picking a small bag of candy each and an ice cream. With smiles and giggles at such a fun treat we all made our way to the check out counter. Excitedly, one of the youngest placed the small shopping basket on the counter and smiled in happy anticipation as the clerk began to scan the goodies. You would have thought the joy and excitement would have been apparent and contagious but instead the clerk looked at the sweet happy innocent face and said "oh boy, someone is going to have a lot of cavities!" All smiles vanished and sad confused looks crept into their place. I quickly and firmly, in as polite a manner as possible, gave a stern reprimand conveying that this was a birthday celebration, we were a big family, and this was a once in a while treat.

Never mind the fact that my kids hardly ever have soda, drink a ton of water, are vegetarian, have no sugary cereals, and as of last dental check up, my kids and I do not have a single cavity. Forget the fact that this person is not a doctor or health worker, does not know me or my family, and was never asked for advice or his opinion, I realized I had fond a cavity.

This cavity is one most do not notice or do anything about. You can not go to a dentist, and no amount of brushing or flossing will prevent or help correct this gap in people's thought process.

You see we were at a store where a lot of alcohol is sold. In fact the customers behind us were buying three cases of beer. Yet not once have I heard a store clerk say "Oh boy, I see someone wants to kill some more brain cells!" or "Oh boy, I see someone wants to go act like a fool!" or "Oh boy. I see you want to add to the chances of crime, stupidity, violence and death in the world!" or "Oh boy, I see someone is going to have liver problems!" I wonder how much alcohol they would sell then or how many customers they would  have. Yet how true those statements would be!

But nothing was said, nor have I ever heard such things said. I have heard people telling those overweight what they do and do not need to be eating and when, I have heard complete strangers tell children with candy that they will have cavities, I have heard carnivores telling vegetarians that they are weird and what they eat is gross (what could be more discusting then eating a dead animal, many of which are covered in feces as a bonus?). I have also heard people who drink asking people who don't if they are alcoholics and if not why they don't drink.

What is missing in our collective thinking? What type of crater has been created by a society were fiction, not fact, determines what we speak out against and what we choose to ignore. This is dangerous. Just like a cavity in your mouth, this type of thinking can grow, rot, become infected, and before you know it can create a  whole chain of problems.

So once home, while we all enjoyed our special treats and the important day, it was not cavities in my children's teeth I worried about. Instead it was the collective cavity in our society that I felt the need to protect not only our children, but our entire family from.

A Saturday

Some thirty odd years ago on a Saturday perhaps much like this one, I was born. There was not much warning and, according to my mother, hardly any pain. By all accounts I was beautiful, wide eyed, and far more aware then any other baby this doctor had seen. And he had seen his share for he delivered my mother some twenty odd years before and I am sure many in the years between. My big eyes followed every movement and studied the faces around me as I drank in everything in seemly quiet study, so quietly in fact that the doctor was afraid that something may be wrong and proceeded to poke me until I finally peeped a small but very communicative protest and he smiled and left me alone.

When I had surveyed everything about me, it seemed I realized that something was missing, someone was not there. In my anguish, I began to cry uncontrollably and would not be comforted by those around. I only slept when I fell into an exhausted slumber after crying for hours. In reality, I cried myself to sleep, and did so for the entire first week after my birth. Mother could not sooth me, grandmother had no success. Grandfather's beautiful singing and whistling were of no consequence, and doctors were puzzled. And then as suddenly as it began the crying stopped the moment my father returned and lifted me in his arms for the first time. You see the man I had grown to know and love, who I thought would protect me and love me in return was not there when I was born, and I knew it and was broken hearted that he had left me all alone in this new and uncharted place.

Oh he had made attempts to be there when I was born. He had come home for two weeks around my due date and he and mother had tried everything to ensure I would come...when it was convenient for him. You see my father loved my mother and me probably the very best he knew how. But the way he was raised did not lend to him knowing much about love and fatherhood and sadly he never seemed to realize that what he knew was lacking and because of that he never really tried to learn. His first and true love was his work, and he was good at it. In fact in all the years (and at times they seem a hundred fold to what they are) I have wondered the earth, I have met a lot of people in my father's profession and in all honesty, he is one of the very best in the world. This was wonderful for all those to whom he rendered his professional services to. But to those of us who really knew and loved him, it meant we were always second at best. So he tried to be there, as the story goes. In reality however, he tried to make me there when it was best for him. As the universe would have it, or perhaps as my stubborn soul would have it, I did not enter on que and was born without my father there.

Once I realized he was gone, my little heart broke and I cried and wailed, mourning a loss my soul as of yet had no other way to articulate but in cries of sadness and grief.

The moment he returned and held me and told me he was there once more, my crying ceased and I was one of the happiest, easiest, and well behaved babies many had ever seen. I thought everything would be ok from that day forward because my daddy, my protector, the only man I really knew and loved, was there with me. And I had no fear, no sadness, no worries for a short time. And life was bliss.

Now it is my birthday. There is no parade. No real warning. No special holiday. No presidential address. And I try my hardest always to cause as little pain as possible. And I am born again. My soul is beautiful and wide eyed. It is quiet and aware. As I drink in my surroundings in quiet study, some may think I am not ok. And I will allow a communicative protest.....

I begin to cry. No one seems to know why. But I realize the man I love the most is not here and I mourn his absence. You see his first love is his game. He doesn't know it, and would probably deny it. But those who love him and truly know him would tell you in a moment without hesitation. And he tried to celebrate my birthday, when it was convenient for him. He did everything he could to make it the most wonderful and special birthday ever. But the universe did not allow it. My birthday did not come. It came today. I am in a world where every day brings a new world and without him I feel lonely and afraid to face it. Uncharted and new, a day and year begin once more. Once more I am alone.

And the man I love the most is not here.

And so I mourn.

Once again it is a Saturday, it is my birthday, the man that I love is with his first love, and I am alone.

Some one hundred years from now, if we are still on this earth, perhaps on a Saturday much like this one, I will die.

There may not be any warning and I hope there will be no pain. I hope my soul was beautiful by all accounts and my eyes were wide open to the world and goodness around me. I pray my big eyes followed all that was pure and that I studied faces and movements about me. May I have been far more aware then most. Not always quiet , and some may still think something was wrong with me, but this time because of the joy, love, passion, and kindness with which I drank everything in. And I trust in a quiet firm way I protested all that was wrong.

Once again it is perhaps a Saturday, it is my dying day,  I do not know where the man that I love is, but I hope I am not alone.

Success

Most people I know have a need and deep seeded desire to do one thing, succeed. The problem? What does that word really mean and who defines it? I mean one could take the easy way out and let Ms. Webster define it, or even more often let others around you define it. But what is it really? I have met many people from all walks of life and find that when they are asked this question the answers are as varied as the people.

Some will say having money is success, others will say a prestigious job. And I have heard a gamete of others; fame, love, children, education, partners, properties, toys, experiences, acquaintances, sexual encounters, adoration, praise, being published, being known, social circles, societies, memberships, travels, food, shelter, freedom, abolishment of others or ideas, laws made, laws broken, evil undetected, evil conquered, clothes, things, owning, being owned, marriage, winning, hoarding, control, and the list is infinite.


But the truth I have found is that none of these are true success in any one's mind. Oh you might shake your head and strongly disagree, but please wait and hear me out.

The reason why there are so many different things that represent success to just as many different people is not because they are different in the way we casually think. It is due to the things they value, the societies they grew up in, the things they found lacking, what they admired, and ultimately what they grew to believe was of highest importance. And the way they came to these surmising are just as unique as each person, but the true reason is not.

The real reason we want to, long to, must succeed is ....
because we need to feel we mattered.

We need to feel, and if at all possible know, that as tiny specks on this grand planet in this vast universe and the great and splendid beyond, we made our mark, we did something that mattered, and that our life thus has value and meaning more then a mere flower that has bloomed and died. That we did not just live and die but our life had meaning and worth. And thus I am forced to realize that to succeed is not a mere word or description in a book full of explanations, but the soul crying out, " I was here and I mattered". And we all need that feeling for nothing leads to despair more quickly then the feeling of worthless existence.

With this new vision and take on a word so often thrown out and about in judgment and categorization, I now do not dismiss this as a frivolous generic word. I see it instead as a very real part of humanity and who we are as a species. Because of this I look at success as so much more and handle other's view of it as sacred to them and try my best not to trample or destroy it. For to do so is to destroy and possibly ruin the soul's chance to leave in peace when the time has come and not only leave in peace but leave with a satisfaction that the life they had, whether hard or easy, mattered.

And so I go out among you, fellow creatures and souls, wrapped in understanding and wish you all the very best and greatest success you can find!

Home

I have always loved that saying "home is where the heart is". Yet as of late I am not sure where my heart lives. I know I love to live where my children play, imagine, laugh, and love in safety. Where my husband's arms hold me. Where my dreams have room to thrive and grow. And I use to think that where ever these things were, my heart would call home. But as I wander the earth and move from building to building I find they feel less and less like a home and more and more like a passage to another life, time, and place.

I was thrilled beyond words when my husband bought me this beautiful gem of a cozy home nestled up against majestic pines and grand trees! I could not wait to decorate and make it ours! I dreamt and planned! My husband pitched in and helped with the painting and building of this and that to feather our nest. I was planning on living in this house for a least ten years and hoped maybe by some chance I could keep it forever.

Then reality of life came calling and I now know I most likely will only have a life in this building for maybe two more years, after which I will need to sell or leave it behind. And suddenly the passion and energy I had to make my mark on this mere en-closer of mortar and beams faded quickly away. It seems but hollow joy to add my touches and marks.

I know from experience that making a building feel like a home has benefits far beyond description or simple mentioning. It makes one feel at peace and secure to open and enter such a place and gives a sense of belonging which few other experiences can match. It is wonderful to go from stark walls and bare often uninviting interiors to ones that cheer and beckon one to enjoy. A lurking shadow always seems to hover though when you know tis but for a spell.

I admire those who move from place to place and quickly, it often seems almost instantly, make the barest of structures a home. And I want to do this and I plan to achieve it. When the time comes however, I find myself dreading the effort and passion I must outlay knowing it is only to be left behind or worse, destroyed. Each time I move I vow to make the next place the best coziest place I can, and at times I succeed. But I find the more I move, the less gumption I seem to have to accomplish the task. And so it takes me longer and longer to complete the mission only to have me wishing I had finished it sooner so we could have enjoyed it just a tad bit longer, and all the while my heart yearns for a home. A respite. A place to create and enjoy. A building filled with memories and dreams. A structure that protects from more then wind and rain. A porch where I can rock and watch the years go by with my husband by my side and a seasonal wondrous drink in one hand and and the hand of my lover in the other. And as the grey creeps slowly across our crowns, the laugh lines deepen, and eyes sparkle more from memory then sight, I want to be in a building that echos and reverberates with joy and love, laughter and tears, smiles and frowns, hugs and tumbles, meals shared and alone. Where no matter where I look with eyesight dimmed, I can see the face and smile of a loved one there.

And maybe the saying is right. Maybe you only need to have the heart to make a place a home. But my well traveled heart longs for a little more and so now I must look to see where my heart is so I can at last be at peace in my home.