tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47544466623443401662024-03-17T07:43:03.115-07:00Time to GolightlyIn Spirit, Mind and Body:
Shifting from fear to LOVE one aha at a time. C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.comBlogger526125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-90042925256068722092023-12-07T08:54:00.000-08:002023-12-10T12:39:33.828-08:00Ode to a Uterus: Part 2 - A Real Goodbye This Time<p> I didn't think I would be writing about my uterus anymore. I did ten years ago when I had an endometrial ablation. <a href="https://timetogolightly.blogspot.com/2013/08/thank-you-uterus.html">https://timetogolightly.blogspot.com/2013/08/thank-you-uterus.html</a> All has been good for a long time except some ovarian cysts and fibroids that weren't causing any long term problems. Last year, I did find out I was in menopause and began taking estrogen. </p><p>About a month ago, the uterus became problematic again. A visit with a nurse practioner, and the ER uncovered that my uterus decided to supersize with fibroids and was causing discomfort and pain. I learned about fibroid degeneration, and blood supply. Tomorrow, I plan to learn more after the surgery is completed that will remove my uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries and cervix. The key word is <b><i>after</i></b> surgery. </p><p>I have learned some things about myself in the last twenty-seven years which was my last "big" surgery. </p><p>I have anxiety. At times, this anxiety grips my body in paralysis and my mind thinks it's never going to leave my person ever, ever again. As my heart is racing, my stomach is turning, my whole body is activated but frozen and my thoughts turn to desperation and darkness. How will I go on like this forevermore? Who is going to save me? After some time has passed, and the grip of anxiety has lessened, I forget that I have anxiety. It has come to be a surprise over and over that this condition is my baseline. I was shocked, I tell you, shocked when some years ago, my primary care doctor wrote in my chart, generalized anxiety disorder! </p><p>In the past, when I wasn't in the thick of it, I had been in complete denial of it.Anxiety didn't interfere in my life's function until postpartum with my first child. I didn't know what was going on, but it tortured me. </p><p>The last few years, with my fabulous therapist, I have used Internal Family Systems therapy to address and understand my baseline anxiety and feelings of abandonment. Much time has been invested in knowledge about trauma in the body, and Complex PTSD, etc. For years, I focused on head knowledge which was an avoidant technique. Now, I address it in the body with IFS, brainspotting, yoga, meditation, mindfulness and new understandings of the Trinity. Now I know, I need to embrace the anxiety and make space for it and coexist with it, because it is a part of me. </p><p>In late 1996, my last big surgery, was when I was first married and living in Buffalo, New York, while my husband was in his general surgery residency. I began having abdominal pain and it was my appendix. On the way to the Millard Fillmore Suburban hospital to have it removed, I'm sure I asked what was going to happen. My husband told me <b>every</b> freaking detail of what was going to happen. In hindsight, it was best for me not to know the details, including the kicker that there was to be shaving of a certain region! Another thing to block out in that surgery, with my unclothed body laying on the table was a residency friend that had come to our Thanksgiving dinner who would be assisting. There are things I needed to block out then and now and likely forevermore. </p><p>When I had my appendix removed, I had the really unpleasant memory of being rolled into the OR, but not out under anesthesia yet. I was very distressed as the room was cold and very bright, and I could see the sterile instruments and every one rushing around to prepare but there was no attention to me. I felt so abandoned and alone. It triggered something deeply embedded in me. They were just doing their jobs but I very much had a reaction that has stayed with me to this day and is coming up as I type this. </p><p>This time, twenty seven years later, I am able to speak up and ask that I not be rolled into the OR until I'm out, ask for a hand or some acknowledgment. Anything for me to speak up and express myself! </p><p>I am the person to save me. For a few decades, I didn't know how to ask. I suffered in silence. I didn't feel worthy to speak up. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnZWgE9m_XAydqBNLBIbqBcqn0enMkQPWLmv1KsEhW-fsABgwXKV_pS7CzGS0idW0JXw-HD8wgVdEZ-ME995wDgeLe_rzzlxgOSUTa3Sm3QedyGgiy8vbnJQTtBE1teqzy59WXHR5RF1mZ8K_fr82nDo6cs3JF_9S99fgk5Zd4kH45Op5r8RByr1pFZod/s722/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-07%20at%2010.37.04%20AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="722" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnZWgE9m_XAydqBNLBIbqBcqn0enMkQPWLmv1KsEhW-fsABgwXKV_pS7CzGS0idW0JXw-HD8wgVdEZ-ME995wDgeLe_rzzlxgOSUTa3Sm3QedyGgiy8vbnJQTtBE1teqzy59WXHR5RF1mZ8K_fr82nDo6cs3JF_9S99fgk5Zd4kH45Op5r8RByr1pFZod/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-07%20at%2010.37.04%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>Yesterday, as I discussed the upcoming procedure with a friend group, and I told them about the blog from ten years ago, and how I had wanted to acknowledge my uterus and it's job, my friend started laughing. She brought up sentiments of Marie Kondo, the house organizer: In letting go of objects in the home, she would thank them for their service and let them go if they did not spark joy anymore. <p>My uterus is banging into my bladder and other parts and<b> </b><i><b>is not sparking joy anymore!!</b> </i> I once again am profoundly thankful for having the privilege of carrying two of the lights of my lives and giving birth. There was a time, I didn't think that would happen and I am still grateful. </p><p> I am also grateful to say goodbye to these four reproductive parts. It is time. I hope to be productive in other ways using other parts as I continue on with this adventure of life. </p><p>Namaste~</p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-25774536288696928232023-11-30T10:50:00.000-08:002023-11-30T11:34:45.694-08:00I Go To the Gym to Meditate (Not Exercise)<p>My relationship with the gym is changing. Old school me would have to make myself go, because I'm <i>supposed to be there</i> and it was based on looks. Now at fifty-five, it's more about being able to move and function! I hope to have grandchildren one day and I want to be active with them. When we took a two week nonstop group trip to Europe this summer, I wanted to be able to keep up and not struggle, so I trained. Moving my body now, makes me feel good. </p><p>I also am learning that<b> sitting</b> with my body <i>and thoughts</i>, makes me feel good. </p><p>Actually, better than the gym does. </p><p>As a person who has suffered with anxiety forever (and didn't know it), hypervigilance and people pleasing, I had no idea how much I needed to be still and know that I am. </p><p>Recently, I realized that the only classes I was actually attending at Woman's Center for Wellness were "Yoga Nidra" (gentle yoga with 20 minute guided meditation) and a "Breathe and Connect" which was total meditation. I was going to the gym to meditate?!! At first, I thought I'm a slacker, but then I discovered practicing in a group honed my skills and that is what I needed at this time. </p><p>I have heard about meditation forever. I knew it was SO good but when I sat down and tried over the years, I struggled. I would try here and there. At church, it was called centering prayer. I remember sitting in a graduate school class and trying to breathe as instructed and making myself dizzy. I did not take to it naturally at all. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsJ_9v6dA7BPCCMIOfkg10Y_J5ryXjqWIl9do43jIk0PlDXJzIF9D-0m5Di5Pi3EXwT7C4W_-mfm9f6WPBZxDzhyphenhyphenOhKdp43YyIDeMpYSzZJLvzh2Zv3Cf-wO8N5Sa83BxOfpeubAPSmnZURnaKdm2lL-farl97cCDjaFQjfslQxfF1wy4osnQFMDCaLbL/s1086/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-30%20at%2012.18.18%20PM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="794" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsJ_9v6dA7BPCCMIOfkg10Y_J5ryXjqWIl9do43jIk0PlDXJzIF9D-0m5Di5Pi3EXwT7C4W_-mfm9f6WPBZxDzhyphenhyphenOhKdp43YyIDeMpYSzZJLvzh2Zv3Cf-wO8N5Sa83BxOfpeubAPSmnZURnaKdm2lL-farl97cCDjaFQjfslQxfF1wy4osnQFMDCaLbL/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-30%20at%2012.18.18%20PM.png" width="234" /></a></div>It has taken decades to gain this skill. When I was taking more intense yoga classes and at the short shavasana at the end, emotions would come up and that freaked me out. I was not okay with what came up because yoga was supposed to be relaxing. <p></p><p>There is a good Netflix series called "Headspace: Guide to Meditation" by Andy Puddicombe. He describes meditation as: "a skill of training our mind so that we can have a calmer, clearer mind and a greater sense of ease in our mind, our body and our life." Andy reports how science has studied how meditation affects heart rate, blood pressure and stress levels and even the structure of the brain. I can actually change the hardwiring of my brain to lessen anxiety. That seems really unfathomable to me, but I am slowly seeing that very thing occurring. </p><p>All of that sounds good doesn't it, but it's really REAL.</p><p>Mr. Puddicombe also describes how he thought he could think himself out of losses in his life. I so identify with this. I wanted to excise any negative emotion that came up. My feelings frightened me. I was phobic of them. He states that training the mind is about changing our relationship with the passive thoughts and feelings that come up. We change our perspective on them and we naturally find a place of calm. </p><p>Ding! Ding! Ding!</p><p>This immediately reminds me of an instagram post I read recently. The opening slide attributed to Lexi Florentina states: <i><b>We don't actually heal or "get rid of" our pain, trauma or grief. Instead, we build capacity to coexist with it in a way where presence, safety, and joy can also take place. </b></i></p><p>And then she takes the idea further...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypNnQETMbSGedjhlg_6_HEKbHoYQ-SEf-4xzayyCvsvNxZUk-atkC0J4_hNSA_1ZN3iC8BN7SLE7cmdIAsCUpjfq1-xmffI1Z5fmdgyvkVeXPROEyjkI7RmLr7q_YgHairjPErAQhVBgD4oBsB7C3YQXk3AAYgYw5ZfxBVnXV0DyJFUuXtHOMD9bRedN7/s1170/capicity%20wider.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="1170" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypNnQETMbSGedjhlg_6_HEKbHoYQ-SEf-4xzayyCvsvNxZUk-atkC0J4_hNSA_1ZN3iC8BN7SLE7cmdIAsCUpjfq1-xmffI1Z5fmdgyvkVeXPROEyjkI7RmLr7q_YgHairjPErAQhVBgD4oBsB7C3YQXk3AAYgYw5ZfxBVnXV0DyJFUuXtHOMD9bRedN7/s320/capicity%20wider.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Wow! </p><p>The trauma, pain and distress will always be with us, but it is less intense as we process it. With my therapist, I have processed some of my trauma, and I learned to be with it using IFS therapy. Over time, I became less emotionally overwhelmed and began to welcome and nurture the scared, anxious, abandoned parts of my younger self. </p><p>I can see now that meditation is a version of this. I watch my thoughts go by and not attach to them or become them. I use breathing as a major component to come back to the present as the restless thoughts always appear. Sometimes, I repeat a positive intention word over and over. There's so many ways. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I'm so glad the gym offers Yoga Nidra and Breathe and Connect classes and I tried them! They strengthened my meditation practice greatly. One teacher was new to me but her meditation and the calming, nurturing way she led the guided meditation in shavasana was exactly what I needed. The other teacher was one that I have taken classes from for years and she has taught me during that time to be kind and gentle with myself and send love to the parts of the body that we were stretching. <p></p><p>So meditation and cardio. Yoga Nidra and strength training. The gym can be a place to meditate. </p><p>Both/And</p><p> </p><p>Namaste.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-83949584395136201842023-06-02T05:17:00.003-07:002023-06-02T05:17:42.547-07:00Taking A Break From Therapy But Not Healing<p> A Quote from Jeff Brown</p><p><i>“At some point on the journey, you may reach a point where you want to ease the throttle of transformation. Not where you stop growing, but where you stop utilizing your will to affect personal change. You’re still growthful, but it’s different. It’s gentler, and it’s more about accepting what is, than changing it. You reach a place where you are more embracing of who you are, and of how far you have come, and you feel ready to work with what you’ve got. It’s important to notice this moment, if it arrives. Because there is a real peace in that tender self-acceptance. And, ironically, it may ignite the most profound change of all.”</i></p><div>This really resonates at this point in time. I am taking a break from therapy. I didn't see this happening, it just dawned on me after a few intense years. I have been on a mission to heal myself for such a very long time. And prior to the pandemic until about February of this year, I engaged in Internal Family Systems therapy with my long time therapist. I dug up some of my most intense past experiences, some from childhood, which I had no idea were residing in me and began the process of learning how to soothe myself and those parts. It was intense, eye opening, exhausting and healing work. I could be affected for day or longer. I have processed so much sadness, anger, and hurt. <br /><br /></div><div>It's not an easy path.</div><div> </div><div>It's slow growth.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I am thrilled that I am still on it. Every small awareness leads to others down the road. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Psalm verse states, "Be still and know that I am God..." </div><div><br /></div><div>This is that practice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Taking a break from actively drawing out pain bodies seems to be my path right now. I am listening to myself and this is an act of nurturance. That is a key to my journey now. Learning to be kind to myself, and determining what is the most loving thing I can do for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>"You should love your neighbor as you love yourself..."</div><div><br /></div><div>I have loathed myself for a large portion of my life. The thoughts in my head are so cruel. I see how this verse, really really applies to human nature and to me. The more we nurture ourself, the more love for others just naturally springs forth. I have felt that so many times and stand in sheer amazement.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being a human in this world means that every day something is going to come along to process and now I'm practicing what I have learned over the years. This break from therapy, means process life as it is. So many times during the day, my stomach turns with anxiety. The goal is to welcome that anxiety and not run from it, not numb it and lovingly BE with it. This takes a lot of practice. Something that helps is meditation and bit by bit, I am practicing that too. </div><div><br /></div><div>One key act of nurturance towards myself is slowing down my yoga practice. Instead of more intense power yoga, I unconsciously sought out restorative yoga. I found Nidra Yoga. And over the course of attending a particular class, the teacher made adjustments and it became more restorative. For half of the class, we are in savasana listening to the teacher guide us through a loving meditation. During one of the first sessions, as the teacher kindly, lovingly spoke to us and our worth, tears flowed and I knew, finally understood, oh, THIS is what is meant by nurturing myself. This is being kind to myself. Pushing myself to do the intense yoga and hold poses, hurting myself to keep up, is not. </div><div><br /></div><div>B<i>eing</i>, and taking care of the parts of myself that needed unconditional love in the past is my path forward. This is reparenting myself: listening to my divine intuition, paying attention to new awarenesses and recognizing the flow of love inside and outside. </div><div><br /></div><div>Namaste. </div>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-25782338975191028792023-02-26T15:22:00.000-08:002023-02-26T15:22:38.214-08:00Greeting Pain With Loving Kindness: A Lesson From Turning Red<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> I am trying to watch as many Oscar nominated movies as I can before the Academy Awards show on March 12. It's an annual tradition and I have to come to terms with watching movies that are not my genre or that I really don't understand, yet usually I find a nugget of a really great truth. Last night, there was a wonderful moment and it couldn't have been timed any better. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hy-lCsSPJRFO4Y9lsovjg2KyEkmOcgC-o0c5LNaU374kAaKvD8hDMMJ3prNPwyPOA88lI-J6KrUdVFzjMy9YwIO0iN00V3ixad88OxocclUw4yk8OkBWCVejbD7UnD6CYJ29BV5BVLXGWn6ajcgzHDXcozoxJZei1VgTeaCGmY96XHxpNBTiIxV9SA/s4032/Oscars2.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hy-lCsSPJRFO4Y9lsovjg2KyEkmOcgC-o0c5LNaU374kAaKvD8hDMMJ3prNPwyPOA88lI-J6KrUdVFzjMy9YwIO0iN00V3ixad88OxocclUw4yk8OkBWCVejbD7UnD6CYJ29BV5BVLXGWn6ajcgzHDXcozoxJZei1VgTeaCGmY96XHxpNBTiIxV9SA/s320/Oscars2.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>At this point, I've watched most of the dramas and now I move to watch animated films. They are my least favorite genre behind action, war or fantasy. Last night, we viewed "Turning Red" from Disney. I came into it with low expectations, and it was "free" as we subscribe to Disney streaming. It was one more box I could check off my crumpled Oscar nominations page. I have also been obsessively filling out the same online quiz to up my score for how many of the 2023 Oscar nominated movies I have watched compared to others. I know it's not a hard feat, but I love it. </p><p>I knew there was a possibility that something would hit home for me in this Disney movie. ("Dig A Little Deeper" from "Princess and the Frog" comes to mind first and I think I wrote about it)</p><p>I have been acutely struggling with sadness and anxiety for the last year or so. The last days, I was really grappling hard with sadness. It is not a new struggle and I found journals where I wrote the same feelings 6 and 7 years ago. I was writing the SAME exact feelings!! I chuckled out loud and that felt huge. I began thinking that as freaking uncomfortable as these feelings are, they are not going anywhere. And the more gently that I accept them and even welcome them(!!!), they may grow to be less uncomfortable. </p><p>The following are ideas from ten years ago in my notes on my Iphone, and I will attribute them to Mary O'Malley, an author and therapist whom I likely heard them from at the time: <i>The frontal lobe is dualistic in nature: we have been conditioned from very early on to live in war. Our core compulsion is to struggle. All other compulsions are an attempt to numb out the constant unease of this struggle. What you control, controls you. </i></p><p><b>What you control, controls you. </b></p><p>Eeesh.</p><p><b>Acceptance it is. </b></p><p>It seems that acceptance is always the solution but it may take time to see and become aware of it. The pain stands in the way of acceptance. Pain and discomfort need to be welcomed like old friends. Yes, really. I push pain away, fear it and become obsessed with it. It is the most difficult assignment, but yet time and time again, this truth is exposed to me. </p><p>What I have come to understand is that I feel like I am becoming sadness, not that it's just come for a visit. Sadness and anxiety are a protection from from the past, decades ago. There were events that I could not handle on my own and these were protective mechanisms for younger me. The current me, the older, wiser me has learned tools to better accommodate life. </p><p>Back to "Turning Red"as George, Mallory and I are watching it. Mei is a thirteen year old teenager who is now turning into a red panda when experiencing intense emotion due to powers passed down matrilineally. The first time she turned into the "monster" while having both anger and joy, I turned to Mallory and said something, like... here we go. </p><p>And then later on in the movie was this fantastic moment as her dad explains to Mei:</p><p><b>"People have all kinds of sides to them and some sides are messy, the point isn't to push the bad stuff away, it's to make room for it, live with it." </b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5viXqIdcIH8" width="320" youtube-src-id="5viXqIdcIH8"></iframe></div><br /><p>Wow, wow, wow. <br /><br />I once again turned to Mallory and said something about here it is (the truth bomb). She turned her head towards me and had a quiet smile of recognition.</p><p>I ADORE and live for these moments. Moments on film or life that reflect something that I have grappled so hard with and I hear the same truth that I have painfully come to. I love that my daughters and I even lightly touch upon truths that I did not come to understand until my forties and now fifties. </p><p>If watching an animated Disney movie is the catalyst, it's so worth it!</p><p>Some of life's greatest pleasures come when you least expect it. </p><p>Namaste.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-16612636713119611802023-01-30T08:35:00.007-08:002023-01-31T09:28:22.169-08:00A Little Something to Dream On<p> Over the weekend, I engaged George in assisting me to declutter. Sometimes, I need a warm body for companionship but one with a high reach is always especially helpful. My main goal was to get the bookcase next to my bed cleaned up as it was overflowing. There were steps to the process both literally and figuratively. There were hard decisions to be made, this time about books to keep or let go of as well as objects that had special memories but no place for display. As I was trying to find space to move books around, I came across a book in the living room bookcase (as opposed to the bedroom, dining room, or spare room bookcases!) I immediately knew who it was from. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjPKTFwP69qVlXwcV0UeoMrwzlf-56vILqbgaENrBWer2sT0In2nNC-5VcyC02UQGxuJElPfq1oHfks-IhgaZgn_eO7ZnnvP3KOOm8Y1aarVtDfme6AvrGsHdIjtx82k6C5udfESjLXWaYM14gCot_MX_u99MI1qy1WNaQ5GhRH0kF3Gf_1IBb2SElw/s2861/IMG_5912.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2090" data-original-width="2861" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjPKTFwP69qVlXwcV0UeoMrwzlf-56vILqbgaENrBWer2sT0In2nNC-5VcyC02UQGxuJElPfq1oHfks-IhgaZgn_eO7ZnnvP3KOOm8Y1aarVtDfme6AvrGsHdIjtx82k6C5udfESjLXWaYM14gCot_MX_u99MI1qy1WNaQ5GhRH0kF3Gf_1IBb2SElw/s320/IMG_5912.heic" width="320" /></a></div><p>It is a small collection of essays about Provence given to me by Aunt Joy, my father's one and only sibling. She passed away in 2003 before I knew exactly how much we were alike. I am still becoming aware of who I am and giving myself permission to do so. It has been a reassurance that I was like someone in my family. Aunt Joy moved away from our hometown of Ethel after high school, went to college for social work and married a doctor in New Orleans. She loved the arts and to laugh. Her advice for family get togethers was to avoid discussion of religion or politics. </p><p><br /></p><p>She and I would have been okay to discuss politics because I believe we were on the same page, I just didn't know it as clearly as I do now. </p><p>I would have been interested in her take on religion as well. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDoAomdQwL9Z9NGt1k4gz5NaeP2FzmO4-zhfvF3BOxl6PAFH0c_exvQnre4h4UwS3dBb-5UcRf28P0hok94V1lRmRnMp9MINtcOoOm9C-e48aTZGxk6tpmKSvFiHlJMOMXBg6k0XH8GhP2_x1_J2pDIGe4jLV_D88O2bcqKAZfWBREdMJWtVHC6z_gA/s2857/IMG_5911.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1399" data-original-width="2857" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDoAomdQwL9Z9NGt1k4gz5NaeP2FzmO4-zhfvF3BOxl6PAFH0c_exvQnre4h4UwS3dBb-5UcRf28P0hok94V1lRmRnMp9MINtcOoOm9C-e48aTZGxk6tpmKSvFiHlJMOMXBg6k0XH8GhP2_x1_J2pDIGe4jLV_D88O2bcqKAZfWBREdMJWtVHC6z_gA/s320/IMG_5911.heic" width="320" /></a></div>The book had an inscription and was dated 1990. <div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Something to dream on. </b> </div><div><br /></div><div>Provence. Excitement bubbles to the surface as I thought of our upcoming summer trip. <div><div><br /></div><div>Oh my! Oh my! Oh my! <br /><div><br /></div><div>Am I going to Provence? <p></p><p>We have a European school trip planned for June including France. Are we going there?!!! </p><p>I run to find the itinerary and I actually know where it is!!</p><p>I cannot remember things as clearly as I use to. And I NEVER thought I would be traveling to Europe... again. My family went to the UK in July and it was extraordinary. A trip I will never forgot. When I think of it, I am filled with JOY. </p><p>I find the papers. </p><p>WE ARE GOING TO PROVENCE! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe4ZpPEIBHnWtmJeJ2L8V5aZHqYSIGMFLjKOUDtbz3fU0X4DWB4RzUN89RqCilz3a4fJBarw7kfxHp5NIQ9hC9-NGDNl9nPUNymIDErNxCsqJLKR19ejVUDCAiaXT8bBsF_IZD-sJ7p5tgPTOgbiMCd-xR6GN_0VL0ZkIMEj8VpvFZmopDD-IiKC-Xw/s4026/Provence.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2644" data-original-width="4026" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe4ZpPEIBHnWtmJeJ2L8V5aZHqYSIGMFLjKOUDtbz3fU0X4DWB4RzUN89RqCilz3a4fJBarw7kfxHp5NIQ9hC9-NGDNl9nPUNymIDErNxCsqJLKR19ejVUDCAiaXT8bBsF_IZD-sJ7p5tgPTOgbiMCd-xR6GN_0VL0ZkIMEj8VpvFZmopDD-IiKC-Xw/s320/Provence.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>How thrilling! This is a huge God wink and I take it in. Thirty three years later, and a present from the past comes alive again. A wonderful time to remember my aunt, to remind me to laugh, and to Dream. <br /><br />How many dreams do I have now? It seems like I stay more concerned with surviving and working to stay peaceful in my heart and mind. This is a wonderful check to ponder dreams. I have dreams for my children but what I am dreaming of for myself. At times, I don't feel worthy, but in this particular instance, this book and this trip, is totally kismet. </p><p>Also, dreams don't have to be grand. They can be quietly purposeful.</p><p>Namaste</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOKSAwOWawEoe4TSTkA9oufcS9rZ56m-DUhFVo31OqjRnUl9mGNOFDY2iqqCg3dMfi8DtZkwqKDyaNZY3EwIPAMAwa6oAM3d61PUPJ2S1fDq0aeperRs4tLw4um1c2gr26M4_SoF_nZ_EDFC11h-t7xKvAGDfIaQ9VEHC9X1u2aUWETrGe2UpGQwvr8Q/s4032/IMG_5961.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOKSAwOWawEoe4TSTkA9oufcS9rZ56m-DUhFVo31OqjRnUl9mGNOFDY2iqqCg3dMfi8DtZkwqKDyaNZY3EwIPAMAwa6oAM3d61PUPJ2S1fDq0aeperRs4tLw4um1c2gr26M4_SoF_nZ_EDFC11h-t7xKvAGDfIaQ9VEHC9X1u2aUWETrGe2UpGQwvr8Q/s320/IMG_5961.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p>Aunt Joy with her grandson Jack around June 2002 on a riverboat in New Orleans. I would have been pregnant with Riley due in October 2002.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6EDk0s7h72GPGR_tyuJZ3eXKQwTp6ntpQHIbk0ybVsEFKYnaT5bo2Y2wIoFe2mE-M0OmgJRbTz3qu3-TrX4vLCs-TraUaB7iOpXlzhxGO06LcHdeGv4C55860iLmzyHLL7Lj50P7aku01l5Y39Lj2nHc7dDT6jV6mfEphCS2uPtH9Pk1pTwDluyBQA/s4032/IMG_5962.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6EDk0s7h72GPGR_tyuJZ3eXKQwTp6ntpQHIbk0ybVsEFKYnaT5bo2Y2wIoFe2mE-M0OmgJRbTz3qu3-TrX4vLCs-TraUaB7iOpXlzhxGO06LcHdeGv4C55860iLmzyHLL7Lj50P7aku01l5Y39Lj2nHc7dDT6jV6mfEphCS2uPtH9Pk1pTwDluyBQA/s320/IMG_5962.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>This picture was taken outside of her home on 39 Lark in New Orleans. From left to right, My brother (in chair) Aunt Joy, cousin Kay, myself, and my mom and dad. The date is sometime in the late seventies? </p><p></p></div></div></div></div>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-64865860896539333062023-01-09T10:33:00.011-08:002023-01-18T06:13:14.846-08:00My Pledge to Write Again<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_3L9aDqoY06GMHjKUFy8VnQMB71qWQc3SgtmDGe2VbSM3gnFxvCH0Z0eUHmjD_UujeWZa9tWRt5mQQgWPbxyVLKf_vK8-7Eq4J_Fo0WfqcPsaM0ZQaq7CqtIFpm0kjEdv-R2b2Ixg2WU8qtImXxTlEESetM69wBCB1h3CpljOpW5Q80TmbQKYDs51g/s946/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-09%20at%2011.49.50%20AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="946" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_3L9aDqoY06GMHjKUFy8VnQMB71qWQc3SgtmDGe2VbSM3gnFxvCH0Z0eUHmjD_UujeWZa9tWRt5mQQgWPbxyVLKf_vK8-7Eq4J_Fo0WfqcPsaM0ZQaq7CqtIFpm0kjEdv-R2b2Ixg2WU8qtImXxTlEESetM69wBCB1h3CpljOpW5Q80TmbQKYDs51g/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-09%20at%2011.49.50%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>I have not been writing blogs as much in the last few years and that is disappointing. I hear many people say that they write to process life and I concur. I didn't know that when I started writing here fourteen years ago but it is necessary for me. It's not that I don't have content because the last year, and those preceding, I processed much but I just wasn't writing about it. <p></p><p>Unused creativity is not benign as Brene Brown is quoted. In just looking up that quote, I realize that I have been feeling all of that: grief, rage, judgment, sorrow and shame. </p><p>I have to figure out how to sit down and write again. And allow the words to flow through. And let go of the judgment. </p><p>Sometimes ideas have to percolate. Sometimes the material is really personal and it's hard to share out loud. For some reason, I want to share in a public forum but this is ripe with drawbacks. Who will read it and will there be a negative reaction? I have experienced those. I have been waiting to be criticized my whole life. What I have found is that by the time it makes it to this forum, I have deliberated on it long enough and it flows out. There is divinity in that flow and there is a joy and truth that occurs along with it. </p><p>I have also found positive remarks from persons who I did not expect to hear from and the only way this occurs is to share publicly. You never know who it will connect with. My writing is not meant for everyone of course, but I need it. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitDbcRLXG-REIuJQMxlvQ48NMI8UE_SnNLUUzLiZ9jB-_JQKHZkE-mlu_a2mPcIqjuf_I5AAWh6zVnMPD-i4CqK2356lBSB_0vC9Ykxy3vjreMZ4ikL7LqmYnrOA8zOjh7uXojotCJPRrmGbsjXe_BhUhHCdxD9xL2QYxhhlem6Q7knqothSxpX_tdg/s4032/Hallwaypictures.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjitDbcRLXG-REIuJQMxlvQ48NMI8UE_SnNLUUzLiZ9jB-_JQKHZkE-mlu_a2mPcIqjuf_I5AAWh6zVnMPD-i4CqK2356lBSB_0vC9Ykxy3vjreMZ4ikL7LqmYnrOA8zOjh7uXojotCJPRrmGbsjXe_BhUhHCdxD9xL2QYxhhlem6Q7knqothSxpX_tdg/s320/Hallwaypictures.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p>These are unused pictures in the hallway leading up to our primary bedroom. I have decided I no longer want them in the places they use to hang. A friend looked at some of them hanging in our dining room and commented about the color of the picture frames and she was 100 percent correct. I needed another pair of eyes to awaken my senses. I then looked around at everything hanging on the walls and knew I needed to shake things up and I did and then I got tired and maybe the holidays kicked in...</p><p>I have to decide what to do with these last items. Some are treasured and some I use to treasure. This process started late October and as of January 9th, today, they are still sitting in the hallway. God bless my patient husband. </p><p>Processing takes time, whether is processing the events of life or choosing which pictures to hang. Letting go of the past and being in the present. I know the desire to get this cleaned up will come. Sometimes you just have to Wait for it. </p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-86653747376277270772022-10-02T07:00:00.002-07:002022-10-03T08:04:17.053-07:00It's Quiet In The House<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCEKP4PDx9lvVuo7BI8AnZWy_kfKeGh721L6gIiupHpO4TzFa2di5MLtBa3PgPU8beeyPNOWbdYup1CduApbCA3KKc1CMzBuzlQjjlsYIO6Pvnyk2ey2AayYlT4tfrZXsadyxzPI93tGYF_2LhSc5zI1xSHimmvle3nPx6w8KCTpy5hh6QLbWqjCmRQ/s872/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-02%20at%208.45.04%20AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="872" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCEKP4PDx9lvVuo7BI8AnZWy_kfKeGh721L6gIiupHpO4TzFa2di5MLtBa3PgPU8beeyPNOWbdYup1CduApbCA3KKc1CMzBuzlQjjlsYIO6Pvnyk2ey2AayYlT4tfrZXsadyxzPI93tGYF_2LhSc5zI1xSHimmvle3nPx6w8KCTpy5hh6QLbWqjCmRQ/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-02%20at%208.45.04%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div> We lost 2 beloved pets within two weeks. A rescue kitty whom had graced us with her presence for fourteen years and whom my younger daughter had come to adore in the last two years. Eleven days later, we had to put our rescue Beagle of ten years down. <p></p><p>The ends of their lives were not pretty. For months I wanted to write about aging pets but never did. The way they were slowing down bit by bit and the circle of life. It is hard to make the decisions when the time come. This was my third cat and first dog. Making the decision on the second cat five years ago was brutal, it brought up past grief as all loss does. I can picture the scene exactly and how emotionally draining it was to have to choose to snuff this life out. My veterinarian was fabulous and took time to go through the whole process and talk quality of life. He was kind, gentle and informative. I talked to a lifelong friend who also worked with animals. And then I had to do the deed. </p><p>This time with more experience, decisions came more easily but still wrought with emotion. Princess had stopped eating as her kidneys were shutting down and she had lost nearly half of her body weight. Annie's cough had increased in frequency and duration. It was a death knell and excruciating to hear.</p><p>My younger daughter came with me to the vet's office both times for the euthanizations. My husband had Covid the second time for our beagle and couldn't come. We stayed for the sedation shot in the same room both times and it was a peaceful process with Princess. Annie, as she relaxed began the horrible loud breathing noise that had recently begun as her lungs were congested with fluid. Annie helped me to know, this too was the right time for her.</p><p>In the vets room, we cried and we told them our goodbyes. I verbalized how much they meant to me, and laughed about the funny stuff. Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion via Dolly Parton through Truvy in Steel Magnolias. </p><p>I did know that it was time to let them both go. </p><p>This is the first loss that my youngest daughter remembers and she is grieving. We Facetimed with our college daughter to keep her in the loop as we made decisions. She was able to say goodbye through video. The family cohesiveness was reassuring.</p><p>A new normal has begun. The house is especially quiet. No more coughing, loud breathing, throwing up or pooping in the wrong places. No more running to make sure Annie goes outside as soon as she gets out the bed and staying on top of when she needed to go out again. We are putting away the many sets of stairs we had for Annie to access our couches as well as the food bowl and leash. We are all adjusting. Brinkley, the mixed breed dog is adjusting. He is a very emotional dog and loves George and as he was home with Covid, I think it helped Brinkley adjust to being the solo dog for the first few days. </p><p>On Friday, when George went back to work, I walked without Annie for the first time in ten years. I used to dread the walks when we first got her but over time, I love getting out. I interact with neighbors and strangers. On so many occasions, neighbors or passerbys would comment because my arms were always stretched in the opposite directions, Brinkley, the swift one in front, and Annie, the elder lagging behind. At first she lagged behind for the sniffing, but then it was about age and lung capacity. People would comment about how white her fur was and how old Annie looked. (I felt those comments) In the last weeks, we had to walk Annie shorter and shorter distances. But this time, Brinkley and I could walk briskly. Now there is only one treat to give out. I had to use treats a lot with Annie. I had to touch her with her diminished hearing and wake her up and coax her to go outside and relieve herself, otherwise it would end up on my carpet. She would look at me blankly like I was a crazy, and then she began moving, oh so very slowly. I understood her slowness. </p><p>Last weekend, before Annie moved on the great mystery, we made an abrupt decision and adopted another cat, nine days after putting Princess down. Of course, it was too soon but my rationalizations could not hold up against the wistful faces and desires of the other two humans that day. It was too soon for Mallory, because she still misses Princess dreadfully. I beat myself up over going through with it, but am letting it go. The new kitty is all over Mallory and staying in her part of the house. This is for new cat to adjust as well as make friends with Brinkley, who is very eager to make her acquaintance. She is beautiful, skittish, and slowly adventuring out. New sightings are are so much fun. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1e0OAIQ4B23ZMABmu3v3ZRhv_awPM9jVyPlll42TmnFGl2ypiijjBeiTWQmAwWa1NbdfQPtv7mhnWflVQPDLRJDSDlnbRW6IM-zEmDardPXXsQ3YISIhSZiwubm0A14nrLKb7IFcqvTdbBCOpX_TczkJdofRdwsWOWAe60_6dk04kluzVEZQ5mV0V3A/s4032/IMG_4854.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1e0OAIQ4B23ZMABmu3v3ZRhv_awPM9jVyPlll42TmnFGl2ypiijjBeiTWQmAwWa1NbdfQPtv7mhnWflVQPDLRJDSDlnbRW6IM-zEmDardPXXsQ3YISIhSZiwubm0A14nrLKb7IFcqvTdbBCOpX_TczkJdofRdwsWOWAe60_6dk04kluzVEZQ5mV0V3A/s320/IMG_4854.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div>I am waiting patiently as Elizabeth lets me in to bond which Mallory very much wants to occur. And yes, we are naming her Elizabeth... after Bennett of Pride and Prejudice and of course, the late Queenie, with many nicknames available. <br /><p>Mallory had told me that Elizabeth likes to visit her when she sits on the toilet (and when she is sleeping and studying). So when Mallory is not here, I use that toilet. And bam, out comes Lizzie rubbing up against my legs. I am generally able to get a nice visit in by gentling swooping her up and petting her very generously. </p><p>It was too soon to adopt her but I can see that this sweet blip of a presence is giving me life. I am attuning to a flash of white and griege in my eyeline. She is different from Princess and I am embracing that. I am letting her be. I cannot force myself on her. I have to let her be who she is. </p><p>I am affirming that for myself as well. </p><p>I am letting go of some old ideas and embracing the new. There are thought patterns I have to let go of that only cause me pain and the only way through is to feel them. Last night, I simply adored crying and petting Elizabeth all at the same time. I was grieving the old and embracing the new and she didn't seem to mind at all. </p><p>Pets are incredible. </p><p>RIP Princess & Annie. We loved most every minute we had with you, minus the excrement in the wrong places. You brought us joy, laughter and companionship for so many years. ❤️❤️</p><p>Namaste. </p><p><br /></p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-17244112580146264082022-02-14T07:59:00.010-08:002022-02-14T18:01:52.365-08:00Defining Love<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf9q22WMWci2Fuo_odrpXw52I_z2UdzQoq5jeFSl-_2jkvrdntZFnMoPVv2dgToKDAxruo90kXtjxcVrsmzluZKbCXXoC_gIsI2YR7UOizCVmlSIcJavMxP-SuH6b_ILz5Ggbb3ob3doMH7nAkzrsZJiHPmCKFT_Z3cb-7wEJzlQWWE0InOHg4Gf1c8w=s1788" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1788" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf9q22WMWci2Fuo_odrpXw52I_z2UdzQoq5jeFSl-_2jkvrdntZFnMoPVv2dgToKDAxruo90kXtjxcVrsmzluZKbCXXoC_gIsI2YR7UOizCVmlSIcJavMxP-SuH6b_ILz5Ggbb3ob3doMH7nAkzrsZJiHPmCKFT_Z3cb-7wEJzlQWWE0InOHg4Gf1c8w=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />Saturday night, I came across the post of Anderson Cooper announcing the birth of his second son, Sebastian. I played the video of him explaining how he and his former partner and now best friend were parenting both sons and the children's surnames would both be Maisani-Cooper. They are a family. He described how he felt the presence of his deceased mother, father and brother while raising toddler Wyatt Cooper with Ben. He then read a quote from his father, Wyatt Cooper which made me weep. <p></p><p>All of it made me weep. </p><p>(Thank you to the man on Twitter who painstakingly captured the words on video in written form.) </p><p>Here are Wyatt Cooper's amazingly loving and accurate words. </p><p><i>"Life itself is brief. And yet each life encloses all eternity. We are, all of us separately and together engaged on the same tough journey. Each of us taste its joys and sorrows. Each of us gets by as best as we can. And we must whenever possible reach out to each other tentatively to touch with our hands, with our eyes, and with our hearts. We must wish for each other love and laughter, good thoughts and happy days. We must go rejoicing in the blessings of this world. Chief of which is the mystery, the majesty, the magic that is life."</i></p><p>For some reason, ever since Anderson Cooper started writing and documenting his and his mother's life and their relationship journey, I was mesmerized. First in the book, "The Rainbow Comes and Goes" and then in a documentary, "Nothing Left Unsaid." Anderson has been through tremendous loss, and examined it and come through it looking for light and love. Gloria Vanderbilt led an astounding life trying to fill in the gaps for missing loved ones. A dad that died when she was one and a mother who was not able to connect with her. She and Anderson shared their grief over losing his dad, Wyatt, all too soon and then ten years later, his brother, Carter. They shared how their relationship worked and didn't work. I love a family who speaks their truth and tries to work things out together. Relationships are messy and there has to be open, honest and mature communication. If you don't have that, it's really hard to make it work for both parties. </p><p>I celebrate Anderson and his best friend choosing to raise a family together and it really resonates deeply for me. Family can be who you make it to be. It can be those who reach out and touch <i>our hands, eyes and hearts</i>. I have tried to connect on a deeper level with family and it just hasn't worked. It's devastating to come to that conclusion yet I have learned that God ( the Divine One, the Trinity, the Christ Consciousness or Universe) will bring people and situations into my life that will fill my longing for attachment and connection in a loving and kind way. It will not look like what I expected but if I can let go, forgive and move on, my heart will be touched by love when I least expect it. </p><p>Today, on Valentine's Day, a manufactured day with confusing origins, I will still celebrate LOVE. </p><p>The kind of love that listens to my deepest concerns and I listen to theirs. A love that is kind, responsive, mature and patient. It's not perfect but it shows up. That's my version of First Corinthians 13. A veil is lifted and I only understand in part, but the part, the mystery that I see is so generous and overwhelming, I can't do anything but figure out how to lean into it again and again. </p><p>I am so very thankful for the loves in my life. The unit that I created: my husband and daughters, friends who are soul sisters, family, and others who cross my path in all kinds of ways. And of course, the four legged sweethearts cannot be left out! </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="338" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VXaFkUPQXPM" width="473" youtube-src-id="VXaFkUPQXPM"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-30762782884864680082021-11-04T08:49:00.006-07:002021-11-04T08:54:20.152-07:00Transitions<p>There have been two monumental days this year in our household. Our first born started college six hours away in August and our youngest received her full driver's license in September.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ARRpi7ojsZ-Bis9LszwI7xZFIRlQNdaFhMQjlwZSeEU2XyWVtcTG7E1Nky5KDKyGSCAA06x6SCzX371kbYwprBGSYPRnOXo4KZ1lcHjXI5AsM-Vs3aAtef6XR-A4kxj_WEC0vqNNgwy-/s776/Screen+Shot+2021-11-04+at+10.25.42+AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="776" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ARRpi7ojsZ-Bis9LszwI7xZFIRlQNdaFhMQjlwZSeEU2XyWVtcTG7E1Nky5KDKyGSCAA06x6SCzX371kbYwprBGSYPRnOXo4KZ1lcHjXI5AsM-Vs3aAtef6XR-A4kxj_WEC0vqNNgwy-/w272-h269/Screen+Shot+2021-11-04+at+10.25.42+AM.png" width="272" /></a></div>I really had to talk this one out with my best friend to process. I have entered a transition as a mother. It is a slow and subtle shift over the years. For the first time, I am no longer driving a daughter to school in the morning or picking up in the afternoon. That job lasted fifteen years for this school. And all of a sudden, it's no longer needed. It wasn't really all of a sudden, she had been driving with a permit for nearly a year, but that first morning when she went on her own, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. <p></p><p><i>Just hold on, I have learned and that energy will pass. It may feel so brutal but that energy will pass. Don't resist. </i></p><p>Who am I? No more carpool?!! And yet I had to <b>drag</b> myself hundreds of times, especially in the afternoons to sit and wait in a line and now, it is no more. </p><p>I am beginning to grow accustomed though. I don't have to get dressed so early in the mornings, except I have to walk the dogs. My alarm doesn't necessarily have to go off early, as youngest and I are doing a dance as she learns to wake herself up on her own. </p><p>In the big picture, it is time that these young ladies leave the nest and become independent. It is a bittersweet transition though. I have been very intentional all these years knowing that was my job for them to be on their own and something I had to learn how to do as I never felt independent at all myself. </p><p>It is time that I can stretch my wings too. I have many passions. It's a learning curve for all of us. </p><p>It can be jarring at times. Last night, youngest was asking me if she could drive here to do this, and there to do that with friends. And a <b>knowing</b> creeped in. I am no longer needed as much. Our time is lessening. We no longer have time in the car to chat as she practiced driving everywhere. I need to be intentional of maintaining our communication around so much school, homework, social, and extracurricular activities. </p><p>She's off on her own in a new way now. </p><p>And it is so bittersweet. </p><p>I am super proud of both of my girls but to be brutally honest, there is a little feeling of abandonment that pops us. I know that is more about my childhood issues that I am addressing head on in therapy, than to do with my daughters who are growing up and evolving as they should. </p><p>Sad energy passes through every now and then. I had to go to the library to renew my card so that I could continue to borrow books digitally. I have not been in person much at all. I sat and read an article in a People magazine, my old favorite. As I got up to leave after enjoying the quiet, I remembered I use to go to the library or Barnes and Noble when I had a sitter to have some peace when they were little. It also hit me how much I had brought them to the library over the years to get new books, movies and sign up for the summer reading program. It broke my heart just a little in that moment that those times were over.</p><p>And then it passed and there were more errands to be run. And life goes on. </p><p>Eldest is adjusting to college slowly as I am (!). That's another topic. I am so very proud that she is branching out, putting herself out there much better than I did. Yet, there is still contact and thank goodness for technology. </p><p>They both still need me in different ways and hopefully always will. </p><p>I cherish my children and our relationships. We have both grown up together. </p><p>Namaste. </p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-352328319170911652021-08-03T05:39:00.012-07:002021-08-03T10:39:13.708-07:00That Moment of Peace Amongst The Chaos<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Bj4CNynLiRPT4tewmBkshcQdfww4v22T7CZlS5Q71tGpX3jNv7wUIypmHkrRwt9zoky_OBYf9MMbLWcwRViT319kKGNpxCf5I1LQRAVHeNRXaRXGrqC3jHmC34XlmBWZmapvjCOBF45u/s1298/Screen+Shot+2021-07-26+at+5.47.14+AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="1030" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Bj4CNynLiRPT4tewmBkshcQdfww4v22T7CZlS5Q71tGpX3jNv7wUIypmHkrRwt9zoky_OBYf9MMbLWcwRViT319kKGNpxCf5I1LQRAVHeNRXaRXGrqC3jHmC34XlmBWZmapvjCOBF45u/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-07-26+at+5.47.14+AM.png" /></a></div>This summer has been crazy busy. Preparing for eldest's move to college, house updates involving a contractor, getting a brand new car repaired, getting a new driver ready to go solo, planning a vacation, continuing to survive in a pandemic, etc, etc. <p></p><p></p><p></p>In this picture of our recent vacation, my eldest and I are at a National Wildlife Art Museum in Jackson, Wyoming at their patio restaurant called Palate. When Riley found the restaurant and the views online, I wanted to be in that space. It was calling me. <p></p><p>I very much desired to take in moments with the wonder of creation all around. These are stunning views of mountains and as a native Louisianian residing at 40 feet above sea level, this is still fresh and inviting to me! I don't want to drive them or hike them (too much) but LOOK at them, oh my. </p><p>Yes, please. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlxNVr5YMtou5x7v9Ko2YTEibHl3927TCk8-GvIHIGoRnRP84BGXupsq6tSrh5W1g_wg6jmdDfMBBe8HZLccZBnYyaQe9HRCTclcnflfROBGOEAP4XNc5bVo3ldjpPihO15IPRhOiTvCC/s1760/Screen+Shot+2021-08-03+at+7.22.54+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1246" data-original-width="1760" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlxNVr5YMtou5x7v9Ko2YTEibHl3927TCk8-GvIHIGoRnRP84BGXupsq6tSrh5W1g_wg6jmdDfMBBe8HZLccZBnYyaQe9HRCTclcnflfROBGOEAP4XNc5bVo3ldjpPihO15IPRhOiTvCC/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-08-03+at+7.22.54+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>On a California trip in 2018, I pushed and Riley and I ended up at the Cliff Restaurant in San Francisco on the coast. We hiked our way across Golden Gate State Park, took a bus and another hike to get there. I pushed against my instincts to stay small, go along, stay in the box, and not ask for what I wanted. We did it, and there was a wall of windows overlooking the Pacific Ocean and it was magnificent! It was just magical. That scene called to me, I listened and I and I LOVED every bit of it including my feet screaming. <br /><p></p><div><br /></div><p>Family vacation. It's a newish concept for me. Growing up, my family of origin were not able to take many vacations and neither did my husband's family. When I met my husband that is when I really began to travel. First of all, his parents lived in Massachusetts, a distant and foreign land and it went from there.</p><p>The family that he and I have created, our core four, have been able to travel and the girls have been so many places. Sometimes, we take them places they don't want to go. </p><p>"Go West Young Man" was what I dubbed our eleven day driving trip in 2015 to New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah including stops at the Grand Canyon, Lake Powell and Zion National Park. I learned a lot about my family on that trip. George adamantly wants to stop at every stop in the twenty six mile Painted Desert. At Disney, he wants to go from early in the am to late at night for six days straight. The rest of the family, not so much. This creates chaos and that IS just a part of family vacations. </p><p>How do you compromise? </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHjWNpR35VKVVdvfjiLqE0ssq-fVbsQVXcLfNIIjSA9AdxFstToyjT0QVv1Qjg7TPVugItRufTBgOq6l9Rdaw1brDCi617vzoWoXlKRtxa_vs-zWXL7Wsz4zIxt-4nNgWRS-_A_naOM9u/s1278/Screen+Shot+2021-08-03+at+7.51.58+AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1278" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHjWNpR35VKVVdvfjiLqE0ssq-fVbsQVXcLfNIIjSA9AdxFstToyjT0QVv1Qjg7TPVugItRufTBgOq6l9Rdaw1brDCi617vzoWoXlKRtxa_vs-zWXL7Wsz4zIxt-4nNgWRS-_A_naOM9u/w320-h320/Screen+Shot+2021-08-03+at+7.51.58+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>During the Go West Young Man trip of 2015, we ventured to The Narrows in Zion National Park, a gorge with 1000 foot walls and the Virgin River flowing through spaces as small as twenty to thirty feet wide. It was 100 degrees but our feet were hiking in very cold water. I was enthralled. It was a both/and moment. There were a lot of people, and Riley did not like it, at all and Mallory loved it. George wanted to continue and he wanted the family to stay together. <div><br /></div><div>This was not a pretty picture and it was chaos. <p>Not quite chaos but extremely uncomfortable. As much as Riley did not want to go on, George did. </p><p>I believe, that is one of the moments that George and I learned, dividing and conquering is a good thing. A very good thing. Yet, it is hard to go against natural instincts. George wants the whole family to be together. I want peace. Riley nor Mallory do not like crowds. Mallory is more adventurous. Riley and I love learning history. </p><p>On this most recent trip, we learned neither daughter very much wanted to go to Yellowstone or the Grand Tetons. I mistakenly had mentioned more tropical locations, before I decided I did not want to tangle with quarantining or hurricanes. This led to a stand down. The compromise, was to add ropes course, zip lining and whitewater rafting for Mallory with George and off days and an art museum for Riley and I. </p><p>But even those plans don't necessarily go smoothly. Our museum morning required pickup of George and Mallory after their whitewater rafting at noon yet I also really wanted to sit at that restaurant in the art Museum mentioned earlier. </p><p></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The Palate Restaurant at the Art museum called, but then so did Mallory saying they needed to be picked up early. Riley and I had just sat down, to have an appetizer and then we were going to pick them up. With the new information, I had to find the waitress, and tell her to make it to go. </p><p>Riley was not pleased that plans changed once again. I had changed plans a few times on my "structure" girl. She likes to make plans and stick to them. I am a more a fly by my seat of my pants girl, on occasion.</p><p>I had about ten minutes to enjoy that view while someone was shooting me daggers with their eyes. I took the majesty of the situation in and I remembering breathing deeply to ground me. I ignored the daggers and I took in the magic. This I have learned, is a skill that I am honing. I can take in beautiful moments of tranquility while amongst chaos. </p><p>This is the both/and of life. </p><p>It is that much sweeter because it is so hard to come by. </p><p>Namaste. </p><p><br /></p></div>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-5611782346455351502021-07-05T06:48:00.012-07:002021-07-06T08:17:06.188-07:00Changes Are A Coming<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj06fJaLYCscrbUT4pW2bGOH0gc_h38kqfmgTSr13ardyTue1JbT6C_tWYOF0az2gqqzmbPkJDw7_zaTkF0MsDyrryJQttzYNW4FRu6Oca5LYkHS7S95cgcT9zH3JAbfLvHqtcbU_t8YVYb/s1350/IMG_2578.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1012" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj06fJaLYCscrbUT4pW2bGOH0gc_h38kqfmgTSr13ardyTue1JbT6C_tWYOF0az2gqqzmbPkJDw7_zaTkF0MsDyrryJQttzYNW4FRu6Oca5LYkHS7S95cgcT9zH3JAbfLvHqtcbU_t8YVYb/s320/IMG_2578.jpg" /></a></div><br />My firstborn graduated from high school in May. This is something both very exciting and exquisitely bittersweet all at once. Our bird is flying the nest. It's such a cliche but it's my cliche now, up close and personal. I have worked really, really hard to make it the best nest possible. I made an intention very early on in regards to my offspring to be emotionally present for them. I didn't even know what that meant, I just knew I needed to be emotionally connected. I ended up looking at patterns in my life and worked to change the ones that weren't helpful. I wanted my girls to know, I was on their side, and had their back and they could talk to me. Every human being longs to have connection with someone who sees them and hears them...just as they are even if they are not on the same page. <p></p><p>What I didn't expect was along the way, I would learn how to care for my own self. </p><p>I am learning how to do be present for myself, to listen to the divine intuition that is a magnificent guide for how to proceed. It can be just a small flicker of a thought that registers for but a second, and I have learned over time...LISTEN TO IT. Lean into it. </p><p>In my head, I very much want my eldest daughter to gain her independence as she moves six hours away but for my heart, this departure has been unfathomable for years. Watching a movie or tv scene of the drop off at college has ripped me to pieces. </p><p>So now it's our turn. </p><p>From the very beginning, to bring Riley into the world, we struggled. It was a two year journey which included horrendous fertility treatments. We finally succeeded, and then we brought our bundle of joy home and I went off the deep end. My postpartum depression was not only unbearable sadness but relentless anxiety. Anxiousness permeated every thought and decision and it was never ending. It was a very rough few months and the pictures where I smiled betrayed what was really going on. There are moments of time that are hardened in my mind as the worst of my life and it was during<i> this</i> period. </p><p>I eventually sought help and began coming out of it. (I didn't know how to clearly communicate and ask for help) The first night of taking an anti-depressant was one of those. I didn't sleep at all (which was already a problem) and for hours truly thought that I was going to have to be hospitalized and the baby was going to be taken away. </p><p>The pervasive loneliness, isolation and feelings of losing my mind slowly lessened but it has stayed with me. When I think of that time, the pain is easily brought to the surface. </p><p>As a baby, Riley was my constant and the learning of unconditional love. It was the two of us twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with George popping in every now and then. I was her meal ticket and it seemed to never end. She looked to me for everything and I wanted to learn how to do "that." In the beginning I faked smiled and singsonged through it. And over the years through much hard work, the fake smile became genuine. With therapy, I began learning who I was, how to be in the moment, and how to feel everything that came my way. I learned that <b>feelings are not who I am,</b> and they are energy that will flow if you allow them. </p><p>The letting the energy flow has been one of the hardest skills to learn. </p><p>In this past year, I'm learning with some very intense therapy to be caring and nurturing towards all my deeply seeded parts of pain and anxiety. I am going back and addressing times of trauma that are imprinted in my soul. Trauma doesn't have to be a horrific one time event. It is something that gets trapped in your psyche because you did not know how to handle the situation at hand. And each person handles the same life situations differently. In therapy, long forgotten scenes pop in my mind that made a lasting impression. These times are the foundation for my emotional muscle memory. This is what I act out of every day. "The Body Keeps The Score" book by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk has been one of my sources to understand how deeply embedded events in our lives end up affecting us for life. </p><p>Some of those moments I can still picture in my head from our old house are when Riley was a baby and I felt utterly helpless, alone and teetering on the brink. Over and over and over again, I didn't think I was going to survive. Through my therapist, I am processing these times with all the skills that I have now. It is a reconciling that I never knew I needed but has been so powerful. Slowly these feelings don't terrify me as they did in the past. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xpHpZR8x-rTMQ_znI32GpwJjqvSiFfPtw4i6nuwokBAHv62p2ara81DnFfffpUOdrRsGqv-dLbJ7b07Z-SJD1b7t2oGnPkcBv-iOjy_cpxUY0JGvDrT8i2yD9CY-52y01YFVa8Tfm8XS/s1824/Screen+Shot+2021-05-08+at+11.29.15+AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xpHpZR8x-rTMQ_znI32GpwJjqvSiFfPtw4i6nuwokBAHv62p2ara81DnFfffpUOdrRsGqv-dLbJ7b07Z-SJD1b7t2oGnPkcBv-iOjy_cpxUY0JGvDrT8i2yD9CY-52y01YFVa8Tfm8XS/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-08+at+11.29.15+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>But now...my eldest is venturing off. The child inside of me feels like she will be overwhelmed and decimated by this loss, if I label it a loss. I am grieving her evolving to a new stage of life and I know I am not alone. She will still need me, but it is in a new and different way than the last eighteen years. She will not be in our home. She will not be in my physical presence everyday and her room will be empty. <p></p><p>{Time out for crying.} </p><p> The pain energy will move through, the crying jags will recede. Life will change and we will adjust. At times, this summer, as we don't see things eye to eye, I have moments where I think, oh my gosh, yes, it's time and then I quickly move back to, I am going to miss her like the dickens. </p><p>On her end, my eldest is both excited and scared as well. Coming out of the crazy pandemic which rocked<br /> her last two years of high school and Italy trip (!) this structure loving girl is ready to establish a new routine in her new place. She is discombobulated once again and has lots to do to get ready to move on. She needs my help. It turns my stomach sometimes as I engage in college virtual seminars and then I talk to the scared part and it passes. I am working to be present for her as much as possible while tending to my own needs. It's not pretty at all and it's not photogenic. </p><p>Yet, this is THE new learning curve. Both/and. Both being present for her AND myself. </p><p>We can do hard things. We have done hard things and we can do them again. </p><p>We will both survive, and thrive and there may be dips and valleys along the way, but that is life. </p><p><br /></p><p>Namaste. </p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-85566041569363256992021-06-11T05:00:00.003-07:002021-06-11T08:47:05.446-07:00Decluttering And Sacred Moments with Marie Kondo<p>Summer is upon us. Yesterday, both of my children were out of the house. I have been reveling in time alone and flitting from one thing to the next. I could not concentrate on just one thing but I moved between twenty tasks. My emotions were up and down. The day started off with some blue feelings, I wrote, tears fell and I became energized. </p><p>It was time to address the closet, it has been calling. I want to streamline, get rid of clothes and anything else that is no longer in use. This is easier said than done. There are some fantastic memories associated with some clothes and other items. I have read or heard that if you haven't worn an item in a year (perhaps 2 after the pandemic) then it's time to let it go. </p><p>Long ago, I had watched only one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. For some reason, it did not resonate with me. I don't know if it was the language barrier but I was not drawn to it. As I ate lunch yesterday, I decided to give it another try for inspiration. </p><p>It was the right intuition. </p><p>I watched the homeowner, a recent widow and Marie meet and discuss plans. They sat down at a table and discussed her goals for her house and for her. </p><p>Then there was something very powerful which made me fall in love with Marie. Marie told the homeowner she wanted to greet her house. She got up walked around and found just the right spot and knelt on her legs sat on the floor and prayed. </p><p>Oh yes! Cleaning out clutter is a spiritual process. </p><p>(But there was more to come!)</p><p>I wanted to get on the floor and speak to Divinity about my intentions and goals. Make plans for how I want to live my life in this house. I want to think about the energy in the house. It will soon be changing as my eldest is leaving for college which leads me to think of the empty nest in three more years. Whoa. How did that happen?</p><p>Intention. For much of my thirties and forties, I took it to heart that I was a follower and people pleaser. I did not know who I was and how to follow through on my <b>own</b> intentions. I am learning to listen to my intuition, my gut and recognize the divinity that is guiding me. Being in a quiet space like yesterday, really allows me to listen. </p><p>I continued to watch "Tidying Up" and Marie blew me away again! Her advice was to hold an item and see if it sparked joy. </p><p>Oh my. Yes!!!</p><p>Today, I could take in her message. </p><p>Many items I keep, like shoes, I do so because they were expensive. Would I ever wear them again? Never, I think maybe the kids. SMH. Nuh uh. Some of them hurt my feet and I decided not to do that anymore. So does that item spark joy? Nooooo. Instead it carries shame that I didn't wear them enough or that I had spent too much money. And then there's the clothes that might fit in the future? Nooooooo.</p><p>Why do I do that to myself? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijV2rDZOlzByQ5vUcs43fOFrbZfl7AVDeqVvflCriJLWTYXTlDH_WoNtr1MbJ4nhMDZuRiNKB56KklajLJxGzffdbc6KYAbQEX94I7HaxeCJMnfLrzuF0c2EUNamVJU2ejZXZtPrAJeAuZ/s2048/shoes.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijV2rDZOlzByQ5vUcs43fOFrbZfl7AVDeqVvflCriJLWTYXTlDH_WoNtr1MbJ4nhMDZuRiNKB56KklajLJxGzffdbc6KYAbQEX94I7HaxeCJMnfLrzuF0c2EUNamVJU2ejZXZtPrAJeAuZ/s320/shoes.HEIC" /></a></div>Conversely, if I have a very positive memory of a shirt that I don't plan on wearing again, she advises to hold it, acknowledge it and let it go. I Love that so much! In a way, I had been doing a version of this with my daughters. We would take pictures of items, especially stuffed animals and let them go. <p></p><p>It's clear to me now, that this rule applies to all surroundings including people. Do they spark joy, make me feel better or worse about myself? Do I let go of trying to make things work with people it just doesn't? (emphasis on <i>work</i>) It is hard to let people go though. I can get on my knees, thank them for the role they have played thus far and let them go, or let my idea of them go. I may have to do this several times over, because some people are harder to let go than others. </p><p>This was such a simple but profound lesson. As I began to write again, I wanted to hear the exact words Marie used about sparking joy. An interview of her & Stephen Colbert popped up. He asked why Americans responded to her message of tidying up and sparking joy so much and it was because...we have <b>clutter in our hearts. </b></p><p>Those words permeated my body and straight to my heart. I felt them and know them to be true. </p><p>Marie Kondo...wow. </p><p>Thank you. </p><p>My bag of shoes is waiting to be donated. </p><p>Now the rolling of the clothes, I need more time. </p><p>Namaste.💕</p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-69100256619297809492021-04-10T09:30:00.003-07:002021-04-11T05:42:26.952-07:00God Save The Queen: She Helped Save Us During the Pandemic <p>My eighteen year old daughter burst into my room at 6:05am yesterday to let us know that Prince Phillip had peacefully passed away in his sleep. This was not unexpected as he was ninety-nine and had been recently hospitalized. George was getting ready for work, so my eldest laid in bed with me and we watched CNN coverage. Watching and reading about the British Royals has not been a new endeavor in our house, but it increased exponentially throughout the Pandemic and especially after we learned new information about a connection.</p><p>Riley was only eight when Prince William and Kate were married. I know I watched, but I was not as enthralled as I had been as a teenager when Diana and Charles were married. In 2018, for Harry and Meghan's wedding, Riley was very engaged and on her own, planned to get up early and watch. So Mallory and I joined her and we prepared tea and partook of scones for the early morning viewing. </p><p>As the pandemic began, Riley, was stranded and isolated at home as we all were. There was a definite blow to her psyche with a mangled trip to Italy as Covid first broke out, forcing the group home early and into quarantine by her school due to parental demand. She had one day back at school before it was shut down the rest of the year. She was separated from a burgeoning new friend group, and around this time an obsession began with British Royals. For her, there was a deep loss of all certainty with her organized, methodical mind which thrives on routines. Those routines were blown to bits. The British Royal family with their steady twelve hundred year monarchy and so much documented family history stepped in and filled a void. </p><p>Toss in <i>The Crown</i> series, documentaries, Instagram pages, and we have been satiated with the history and current activities of past, present and future Royals. We both love it. Younger sister Mallory and husband George can tolerate it for a bit. As we watch a documentary or <i>The Crown</i>, we both are googling facts to understand more of what is going on. </p><p>During this current phase, I developed a newfound admiration for the staying power of Queen Elizabeth, the longest currently living reigning European monarch. If she lives four more years, she will be the longest serving monarch as she is now fourth. The sheer numbers are remarkable. She has been Queen for 69 years, and married for 73 years. Whether you agree with a symbolic monarchy or not, colonialism or how it's run, she has devoted herself to the Crown and weathered so many world events, scandals, joys and heartbreak. She has been loyal to her country to uphold her duty, as best as she possibly could. We don't actually know what goes on behind closed doors, even though <i>The Crown</i> tried to imagine it. Only those who lived it know, and each of them will have their own version of their truth which we many never hear. (unless they have an Oprah interview!)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5I9F017KAF_omfJUzRbu4k68iyEzqxFwoiO8BVVIAd80ShhREXLCMysv29qtJGV7MTbHPvqcKSXIxUXKyL7YTTkCj8svEOY2UQh-70IZaU2MNkpaJCJCV2Kl-xqvrs6iQcl9ezs5Hvzj/s2048/IMG_6463+2.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1445" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5I9F017KAF_omfJUzRbu4k68iyEzqxFwoiO8BVVIAd80ShhREXLCMysv29qtJGV7MTbHPvqcKSXIxUXKyL7YTTkCj8svEOY2UQh-70IZaU2MNkpaJCJCV2Kl-xqvrs6iQcl9ezs5Hvzj/s320/IMG_6463+2.HEIC" /></a></div>One of the major highlights of this time, was the discovery that my family on my maternal side is indeed related to the Queen! This picture is the moment Riley found out as my sister in law confirmed it. She is 21st cousins with Prince Charles. <p></p><p>We were driving home from a college tour in October 2020 and stopped at a cemetery in Mississippi to see the graves of some ancestors. We begin talking about genealogy once again. Riley knew that many European Royals were related as a number of Queen Victoria's children married into other royal families. With thanks to my great Aunt Maydelle, we knew we were related to Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland. Riley wondered out loud if Queen Elizabeth was related to him. We looked up a Scottish government website and texted back and forth with my sister in law, a fantastic genealogist and within minutes she confirmed our distant but known link to my twentieth cousin Queen Elizabeth!! Within minutes, she emailed us Riley's Royal Register which broke down the connection. </p><p>The amount of enthusiasm and energy we gained from this little factoid at this time was so much fun and held our spirits up for many weeks. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWiKO3N-RQKGmb0n6tAb9W8nBA2lCbYwfowNXCAVP0L0DUAhehKULa8fRcivsoWSmqb-xHCgxHZPdlTJEjxUsIGi5pzWcRZTeeLvYgoPlyoH9Av9vSahXnVY4gAL0oAwFBvRpTkFmlT7Dz/s2048/IMG_7817.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWiKO3N-RQKGmb0n6tAb9W8nBA2lCbYwfowNXCAVP0L0DUAhehKULa8fRcivsoWSmqb-xHCgxHZPdlTJEjxUsIGi5pzWcRZTeeLvYgoPlyoH9Av9vSahXnVY4gAL0oAwFBvRpTkFmlT7Dz/s320/IMG_7817.HEIC" /></a></div>Since then Riley joined Facebook only to be a part of a royal watchers page. She sends me Instagram messages about the royals. I will admit that I don't watch or read all of them, but am glad to have that connection and perhaps it will continue when she attends college several hours away. Riley also sends the different royal couples greeting cards knowing that their offices will send responses. She eagerly anticipates the Royal Mail arriving and I have to admit it is quite fun. <p></p><br /><p>After Philip's death yesterday, it finally resonated with me how much the Royal family really helped my daughter cope with her world shutting down. Her young life was put on hold, her social world crumbled and her Senior year obliterated. For me, this is just a regular year, but for her, she will never have another senior year. I am thrilled that activities have opened back up and a bit of normalcy has returned. </p><p>I hope some things will persist. We have broached the topic of how we can have a watch party for when the fifth season of <i>The Crown</i> drops. I am told that is not until 2022, and that Diana the Musical will drop on Netflix first. Riley has already mailed her condolence cards to selected members of the family. </p><p>God Save The Queen! 👸🏻 🇬🇧 </p><p>She helped save us. </p><p>Namaste</p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-23112087811198182202020-11-17T07:39:00.008-08:002020-11-22T16:09:46.712-08:00Being In The Present Moment<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbzlWz8VOTYTHIuIIDWFxFV8iiQktXYywDAwJsVqLFecXbOuSbudUXpV7DgTRFNYBqVRKfH0JQbFKXZ355qObccFxeKbIU2y6pcvmuTLV7QsLRKSkPkw4piZLsTWC1X4nyecZxgLu913k/s2048/IMG_6747.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbzlWz8VOTYTHIuIIDWFxFV8iiQktXYywDAwJsVqLFecXbOuSbudUXpV7DgTRFNYBqVRKfH0JQbFKXZ355qObccFxeKbIU2y6pcvmuTLV7QsLRKSkPkw4piZLsTWC1X4nyecZxgLu913k/s320/IMG_6747.HEIC" /></a></div><br />It's taken me a long time to really really understand, "Be in the Present Moment." Around ten years ago, I tried to make my way through Eckhart Tolle's, "A New Earth" with a reading group at church. I could barely read the book or listen to him in audio because it was dry and heady material but it laid a foundation. Eckhart talked a lot about the ego, the pain body, about Jesus and inherently "be still and knowing that I am..." <p></p><p>All of that came with a level of difficulty that was beyond my pay grade at the time. </p><p>When I am quiet and still with no distractions, stuff comes up. And I am bombarded with distractions to avoid the painful emotions that make me jittery, anxious and avoidant to ever sit and be still again. Over time, I have practiced over and over that what comes up will not kill me especially if I don't identify AS the sadness, anxiety or grief. It is energy that needs to flow through. These are "just" my thoughts and not who I am. </p><p>Now hearing Eckhart years later in video, I can take in his slow, dry manner, and abundant wisdom and if he chuckles, it is like I won an Olympic medal. So very delightful. </p><p>Just now, I was standing at the kitchen sink with dirty dishes piled all around from last night. I have always HATED washing dishes. George can swiftly verify this fact. My head is spinning because I'm trying to think of all the groceries needed in preparation for Thanksgiving week and the girls home from school. I can look and see things that need to be done everywhere. There's a pandemic raging. Political strife is ever abundant. My lower back aches as I have grown accustomed to in the last few years. My blood pressure is elevated a little. And I have a slight headache that I'm not sure what it's from. And yesterday, I discovered that neuroma is likely the name for the tingling I feel in my right foot between the third and fourth toes. </p><p>Yet, amidst all of this, I have Frank Sinatra playing on Pandora, and I have a dish in my hand cleaning it with my yellow smiley face scrub and <b>I have a few seconds of peace beyond all understanding. </b></p><p>It's magical. </p><p>It's mystery. </p><p>Being In The Present Moment. </p><p>Ego aside, pain aside, sadness aside, anxiety aside, all of it aside. It makes room for a well of gratitude for life, for a loving divinity inside me and inside every human being and I'm connected with all of it. </p><p>Give me more of this. </p><p>I know it's about loving myself and others and breaking through all of the barriers to get there. </p><p>Namaste. </p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-41135355908459573992020-09-19T10:51:00.010-07:002020-09-21T07:30:04.188-07:00Over Her Lifetime She Showed Them Why<div class="separator"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTVvo9hCmavmAnB9VLbCOQuVuY4VTTFRL6YcDLsw1jMvZTx3KMlFVa4kA0RJ4llQ6idsS35Xku3hedSG8kD7QhMOo3TFcrsC1d7bG0Jy2NArCsHMZOknU8DvJhkPQEgwUfmLDU4fwntZP/s1652/Screen+Shot+2020-09-19+at+8.37.39+AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1652" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTVvo9hCmavmAnB9VLbCOQuVuY4VTTFRL6YcDLsw1jMvZTx3KMlFVa4kA0RJ4llQ6idsS35Xku3hedSG8kD7QhMOo3TFcrsC1d7bG0Jy2NArCsHMZOknU8DvJhkPQEgwUfmLDU4fwntZP/s320/Screen+Shot+2020-09-19+at+8.37.39+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />I was in shock and numb after my eldest daughter ran in to tell me last night that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had died. I was numb the rest of the evening and it was only fitting that I had to drive in the darkness late to pick up my daughter from an event. It feels like a light has gone out. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">My hope was that she could pull through for as long as it took. This was her fifth bout of cancer in 21 years. It felt like she was a super hero both in physical survival and also her fighting for the underdog. And that underdog was those whose rights were being trampled upon by a white male dominated society and we needed another interpretation of the Constitution. <br /><br />She always fought in a quiet but brilliant way to interpret things differently and bring the all male bench along with her when she presented her cases. She said it was like teaching kindergarten and they had never heard anything like this before. She did it nicely without raising her voice as her mother had instructed. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">I watched her documentary, RBG when it came out in 2018. As a baby, her only sister died of meningitis leaving her an only child. Her mother whom she was very close to, valiantly fought cancer for several years and died when Ruth was seventeen and graduating from high school. She said there was a smell of death in her house. Her new husband, Marty had cancer when they were both in law school with their young toddler and Ruth did the law school work for BOTH of them!! That is when she learned to burn both ends of the candle. As one of a handful of female law students, Justice Ginsberg made both the Harvard Law Review and the Columbia Law Review and graduated tied for first in her class. <b>Yet, when she graduated, there was no employment to be found as a woman.</b> At a dinner in law school early on, Ginsberg along with other females were asked by a professor why they should be able to take the slot of a man in law school. </div><div class="separator"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator"><b>Over her lifetime she showed them why. </b> </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">It seems her inability to find employment after graduation was the beginning of her lifetime journey of championing equality. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">As a human and mother of two daughters, I'm deeply grateful for Justice Ginsberg paving the way for gender equality in daring and innovative ways creating the Women's Right Project with the ACLU. One of her first major cases was for a man to receive social security benefits for caregiving equally as a woman when his wife died in childbirth. She looked at the law with new eyes and loved it. It was the great love of her life along with her husband Marty and her family. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">Her work in the 1970's as aConstitutional lawyer for equal rights winning four out of five Supreme Court cases was proficient for changing the lives of women whether they know it or not. (I didn't know what she had done until 2018) This accomplishment stands out as historical even without her work as a Judge. She was shy, quiet and taught by her mother not to let emotions overwhelm but to do the work and be independent. </div><div class="separator"><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">The morning after her death and a disturbed night of sleep, I woke and the sadness set in. It felt like a body blow, like the 2016 election all over again. Mitch McConnell will hypocritically work to fill her spot on the bench when he sat on Merrick Garland's nomination for 10 long months in the election year of 2016 because what he said back then was we should hear the will of the people first. Not anymore. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">With this sadness, I have cried for someone I never met but for her ideals, decency and tenacity. We lost a lion of courage but a legacy to act, even in quiet ways. </div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator">As a stay at home mom, what does the story of a prolific litigator for equality and a Supreme Court Justice and Master Dissenter move me so?</div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator"><b>Quiet, tenacious, do your job well.</b></div><div class="separator"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CLY7VTr6dTMisRufM1ItBqcaMtGzsFvmsZt3qEsKpcI1e9DnhH3imeobqcFRLq2vdXQXg20wzCUY0vQdGhmywf9KJ4_T5BfDj4K7ln3KZ6fLmOVqnBMfz8bp6eI7RmrdPFgx23rnwK52/s926/Screen+Shot+2020-09-19+at+9.27.46+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="926" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CLY7VTr6dTMisRufM1ItBqcaMtGzsFvmsZt3qEsKpcI1e9DnhH3imeobqcFRLq2vdXQXg20wzCUY0vQdGhmywf9KJ4_T5BfDj4K7ln3KZ6fLmOVqnBMfz8bp6eI7RmrdPFgx23rnwK52/s320/Screen+Shot+2020-09-19+at+9.27.46+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Before I had children I decided that I wanted to be emotionally present for my children. I didn't really understand what that meant but have spent the last twenty years figuring it out, diligently. It was a calling. I did not feel heard growing up because I felt I didn't have the right to speak. I can see this pattern to different levels in my daughters and in other women of all ages. I processed life alone in my head and now I do it by writing and hope to connect with others. I was a people pleaser and I stayed silent until it really began to burn me up inside and then I dove in hard to understand. That anger of staying silent was a sign that my boundaries were not being honored. I didn't have any boundaries! Therapy along with changing my image of God has helped tremendously. God is love and God is in everyone, of every color, race, creed and religion. Justice Ginsberg who was Jewish fought to care for the marginalized just as Jesus instructs us too. It's amazing that non-Christians act in a manner following Jesus better than many Christians. </p><p>Justice Ginsberg's <b>tenacity</b> in interpreting the law was overwhelmingly obvious when watching her story. I feel the that same way about healing pain that is passed generationally. If you don't transform your pain it will be passed on. Even before I knew that what meant, I was unconsciously working hard not to do that. I have stayed with this learning of how to listen to my children, and be a <b style="font-style: italic;">heart with ears. I am learning to listen to my own self this way. </b> </p><p>Diligence. </p><p>I'm not a "march for your rights" kind of girl. I'm introverted and learning to write my way out and take care of those whom I love with tenacity, listening and continued learning. </p><p>Ruth Bader Ginsberg was a transformational powerhouse in her own quiet but mighty way. I take inspiration, and much gratitude for her as a role model and icon. </p><p><b>Be who you are, use your talent and do it to the best of your ability. </b></p><p>Stand up for those who need it. </p><p>RIP Ruth Bader Ginsberg - You fought the good fight. Imagining your joyous reunion with your mom whom you lost so early and your Marty with a smile on my face. </p><p>Namaste.</p><div><br /></div>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-22775680451559612020-08-28T10:17:00.016-07:002020-09-08T09:59:42.519-07:00Sitting With Hot Lonely Pain: It's A Spiritual Journey<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBno4Pf1Ouc9lm8W6cNiyPpvnUunPOeETetvh6KSmxsi7Hz3IHwWhncRKYPM3vhN34dv9ye_luWwLm30yk3r6tA7i1GhUPbydeGoZV0MPwSr74zdAHuzNYnYmPMFy566LqANmMGlpyStDb/s1054/Screen+Shot+2020-08-28+at+1.03.37+PM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="834" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBno4Pf1Ouc9lm8W6cNiyPpvnUunPOeETetvh6KSmxsi7Hz3IHwWhncRKYPM3vhN34dv9ye_luWwLm30yk3r6tA7i1GhUPbydeGoZV0MPwSr74zdAHuzNYnYmPMFy566LqANmMGlpyStDb/w259-h328/Screen+Shot+2020-08-28+at+1.03.37+PM.png" width="259" /></a></div><br />So I have been partaking in Internal Family Systems therapy with my longtime therapist for the last few months. I'm so glad she went to a conference and we began this new journey. It is awkward, and uncomfortable but throwing me for a loop in the best possible way. The theory is that we have parts of our personalities that sprang forward to take care of us since we were children (and continue today). Life happened to us and we were overwhelmed and protective parts arose. These parts are very connected to our woundings. <p></p><p>My most active protectors are anxiety, sadness and eating. I know judgment and shame are in the mix but I don't know how they show up. We begin by seeing which part is showing up in my body at the present time and then we kindly, compassionately, talk to the part and there is always another one waiting in the wings. I have chest pain that appears as anxiety, I have sensation that starts in my chin and leads to my eyes for sadness. My therapist tenderly asks questions like how do I feel about the anxiety? Can sadness go to a a safe spot and let us talk to anxiety? Does it know Adult Carolyn is here? What age do you remember this showing up? Whatever the parts want to do, is okay and met with gratitude and compassion. With each question, we are teaching the wounded parts that there is an adult core (Self) of confidence, compassion, acceptance, calmness, wisdom, connectedness, and leadership that is in place and is ready to take over. We are synthesizing the protective wounded parts with the core Self. </p><p>And guess what that core self is?!</p><p>God. </p><p>The Divine One.</p><p>One That I Want to Get to Know!</p><p><br />IFS therapy at this time in my life amazingly builds on other theories and spirituality that I have been exploring for years. One of my favorite therapist teachers, Mary O'Malley, has advocated for curiosity, compassion and kindness with ourselves. This stands out to stark contrast with the judgement and shame that I have heaped upon myself for decades. The religion of my youth added to the self-criticism. God was not a loving being, but a judging Santa Claus in the sky, whom I needed to be saved through Jesus in order not to be punished to Hell. </p><p>I didn't want to get to know that God. Who would want that? </p><p>The judging Santa Claus with a side of Jesus was the message I received and took to heart and it has taken two decades and counting to begin to rewire and transform my image of God. </p><p>My life along with this therapy is a spiritual journey of being in the present moment, and for me to know God is inside each and every one of us. The love of the Divine One is unconditional, and the Trinity. Oh the trinity! I continue to heal with the Father, Son and <b>HOLY SPIRIT</b> in the mix. There is a Divine Flow which has been around from the very beginning of creation of the World. (Thank you Father Richard Rohr!) This flow when I can rest in it, makes me feel connected to the entirety of creation, humans, plants, animals and includes those with whom I utterly politically disagree in our current most divided world. You know that's some powerful stuff. </p><p>It takes a long time to unlearn what was learned from the very beginning of our lives. Spirituality is really about unlearning. One of my biggest teachers is emotions. </p><p>Emotions overwhelm me (as they did in extreme form in Postpartum Depression). If I don't identify with them, attach to them, become them, they flow through. (Different flow though!!) </p><p>I know this mechanism well but I lose sight of it and then I remember again, and then I forget. In my most recent therapy session earlier this week, I very unexpectedly was taken back to the postpartum depression I had with my first child. In past sessions, I have gone back and forth between sensations of anxiety and sadness in mere seconds. In the last session, holding those two emotions this time, seemingly "out of nowhere," my mind went to my first postpartum experience. I had fallen into a deep pit of despair, and volleyed back and forth between grief and overwhelming anxiety. I hit bottom one night after months of struggling, when I finally started an anti-depressant. That night, it ramped my anxiety up even further. I did not sleep at all, and my overwhelming fear was that I needed to be carted off to a hospital and that my baby needed to be taken away. The memory of this night and the postpartum depression, is still present in my body and I can call up the depth of the fear, isolation and utter despair easily. </p><p>I felt so utterly alone and abandoned. </p><p>My therapist and I address the Postpartum Depression experience lovingly and carefully during this session. I attempt to recognize that my adult self is present. When I answer the age question, it seems like I'm a teenager. When finished, she tells me the Postpartum Depression is likely related to feelings of abandonment from early on. She told me to take special care of myself. For days afterward, I felt the aftereffects of examining these parts in the form of mental exhaustion, irritability and sadness. I felt blah, I really wanted comfort. Not so long ago, my therapist and I had discussed looking at anxiety head on and not avoiding it. I was having chest pains, with the pandemic and my daughters going back to school. My therapist would ask, how do I feel about the anxiety? I began to feel edgy towards her which I have never done. I'm freaking terrified, of a heart attack right now is how I feel. After the session, I did a little research into heart attacks, because you know, I had too(!) and as I had gone through cardiac testing before, I knew the chest pain was anxiety. I sat with that knowledge and when I began to feel the anxiety again, I thanked it for working to take care of me, for showing up and that Adult Carolyn had this. </p><p>And the chest pain went away. <br /><br /></p><p>I know it will come again, and I will forget but ultimately, I plant to practice gratitude, kindness and compassion towards the anxiety over and over. </p><p>So, here I was again, days after exploring postpartum in my last session. I don't like it, I want to escape it and I want it to GO AWAY. I talk to a friend. I look things up on the internet. Somehow I come across this video of Glennon Doyle. It is a 23 minute Master Class in being with the pain while laughing. She comes on very strong, but hold on for the ride. </p><p>She gets my pain. She is saying this stuff out loud and people respond to her. I respond to this. </p><p>She and Pema Chodron both say: <b><i>"If you can sit with the hot loneliness of pain for 1.6 seconds, when yesterday you could only sit for 1 second, that is the Journey of the Warrior."</i></b></p><p>Glennon continues: "<i><b>When we transport ourselves out of our hot loneliness, we miss our transformation. And everything we need to become ourselves is in that hot loneliness".... "the pain teaches us what we need to know."</b></i></p><p>This is spirituality like I never knew before whereas the judging God of my youth would never evolve to knowing how much I'm loved, how I am at one with the entire universe and knowing the peace that surpasses all understanding. <br /><br />With the hot pain, also comes joy. When you numb pain, you also numb everything else. </p><p>So this crazy therapy is deep, deep spirituality at it's core and coming to know God and myself in ways I never ever dreamed of. </p><p>Namaste.</p><p><br /></p><p>Here is the Oprah's Super Soul Conversation featuring Glennon Doyle Melton.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5uyPbGlMfA4" width="320" youtube-src-id="5uyPbGlMfA4"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-29866248314410876632020-07-06T10:27:00.002-07:002020-07-06T13:35:04.931-07:00Presidential Leadership Traits in Time of Crisis: Trump Has None of Them<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every now and then I need to hear a historian. I unexpectedly caught a glimpse of Doris Kearns Goodwin yesterday. I watched it, I paused it, recorded it with my phone and I listened again because she made so much sense. Hearing someone speak eloquently with education and authority about Presidential history is a welcome, welcome relief to my soul. Hearing what would make a good leader explained why Trump is failing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here is my summary of Ms. Goodwin's answer to one question about the historical nature of Presidential leadership in times of crisis: (I included much of her own wording.)</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We are facing a triple crisis: pandemic, economic fallout and search for racial justice and in the midst of that we hope would be a leader who would have the ability, skills, and temperament to mobilize all of the national resources, to provide national direction to bring the country together. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>During the Depression, (and WWII) - what mattered and what worked is that Franklin Delano Roosevelt knew you had to have action and move. President </i><i>Hoover couldn’t change his ideology that the federal government should not be involved in local and state governments. Hoover could not act but only get excited and say there is an uptick in the economy, the stock market, went up! {Does this sound familiar?!!} <b>But to deny the realities of the moment when you are a leader in a crisis is the real problem because the ground will catch up with you. </b></i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What FDR did as a governor in NY, with no national leadership, he took action. He starts unemployment insurance, and public works jobs. <b>He takes responsibility for dealing with the crisis. </b> That is what catapults him into the Presidency. When FDR runs, Hoover has to defend his non-action. FDR, says let’s get together, have collective action, we are going to work as a team, it’s going to be like a war. He produced the action. The people then say, we finally have a leader!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Collective action of a nation as a whole is a central key to dealing with any of the crises as a team, much less the triple crises that we are experiencing now.</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmbFXP7n0oEBOy1jlDGq5Qud-US1E1-Yx012uOa8o2aCZNlbi_cpI1X6eq3vwZhFFL4XodoivjP-Ih8f0B48vYbt9pZ11ggTccYVe1cebrCH8Iv8ohc2lzRQWdPrDnGG9CBs5rO-94LnJ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-07-06+at+11.13.45+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="422" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmbFXP7n0oEBOy1jlDGq5Qud-US1E1-Yx012uOa8o2aCZNlbi_cpI1X6eq3vwZhFFL4XodoivjP-Ih8f0B48vYbt9pZ11ggTccYVe1cebrCH8Iv8ohc2lzRQWdPrDnGG9CBs5rO-94LnJ/s320/Screen+Shot+2020-07-06+at+11.13.45+AM.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back to me: Trump is unable to respond to these national crises because it is not in his makeup or mode of operation at all. I kept thinking at some point, he would pivot. He will never pivot and never speak for the entire nation. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He is a reality tv show presence and his instincts are no masks, no social distancing, in favor of the photo op and everything revolves around re-election. (per Bolton and his actions) And it doesn't matter who he puts at risk in order to have that photo op or event. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In his Fourth of July speeches, he doubled down on White Nationalism. He uses race baiting rhetoric to appeal to his base which worked in 2016 with the caravans. Yet we were not in the middle of a pandemic, economic downturn and racial turmoil that he refuses to address other than standing for the Confederacy and monuments over human beings. We have to address our history and put the monuments in museums. Looking at the past, reckoning with it with new eyes and receiving education of history and current times that we do not know. I didn't know about Tulsa or Rosewood. I didn't know about the mass incarceration rate of black men versus white men which is about five to one. The system for profit for corporations in the prison system is diabolical to keep numbers. I didn't know about the clause in the 13th Amendment which although it freed slaves it allowed black men to be rounded up for minor offenses, and lose their freedom forever. The powers in charge, needed labor to make up the loss of four million slaves. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHX0egQt97YsYvf183KTSe7zxd-oqn3k84rWABZVaobGBuVQevu5ukFXHgpNg7HpUblYUMdN_WcoN5jjbI9R51KReadxrFKmZUVDVL_eIFBAWkJNTjoZ7rCsoJCKVjoZ4yyaFqnsBSdYZM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-07-06+at+9.44.58+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="1545" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHX0egQt97YsYvf183KTSe7zxd-oqn3k84rWABZVaobGBuVQevu5ukFXHgpNg7HpUblYUMdN_WcoN5jjbI9R51KReadxrFKmZUVDVL_eIFBAWkJNTjoZ7rCsoJCKVjoZ4yyaFqnsBSdYZM/s320/Screen+Shot+2020-07-06+at+9.44.58+AM.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back to Presidential leadership. These are the traits we need in a time of crisis: </span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Humility and </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">empathy, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">acknowledgment of facts with hope, surrounded by a strong team and set an example and share a sense of mission. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></b><br />
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Donald Trump does not have these traits and never will. His diagnosable extensive Narcissism does not allow him to look at the big picture. Even as the governors began leading the war on Covid19, he would get jealous when one got attention over their leadership skills, so he fought with them. And most negligent, he turned wearing masks, the only method along with social distancing that we have to combat the spread of the virus, into a political divide.<br />
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Could you imagine if he did wear a mask, promote social distancing, and be the leader to head up all the governors and local officials in the war against Covid19? He could be the general of the war on Covid and be lauded for that but he is incapable of taking on those reins. His poll numbers would rise. He tried out the moniker of a war leader for a half of a second but being a general takes fortitude, patience, long term direction and acceptance of facts... He could express empathy about the 135,000 lives that have been lost and comfort our country.<br />
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<b>The problem is he doesn't know how to comfort himself because his ego needs constant stroking.</b> He likes chaos and he's got it as does the rest of our country and the world. We are leading the world in infections. He's winning that number in the most advanced country in the world because he's ignoring the virus and hoping it will magically go away. Trump won't allow the infectious disease experts speak, and they have to tiptoe around him because he and he alone wants the spotlight and... re-election. At this point, his personality defects are impacting the country with death, economic destruction and inflicting more pain on racial minorities who have had enough pain for too many generations. He could take it on, and turn the tide but he is clearly incapable.<br />
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Namaste.C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-14674161219373598072019-12-22T06:06:00.000-08:002019-12-22T06:40:45.748-08:00Feeling The Spirit of Departed Loved OnesI had pulled out all the Christmas presents to wrap while the rest of the family was off running errands yesterday morning. I am moving into the holiday spirit. If feels like I'm getting a handle on the to do list. It's time for some Christmas music! This occurs every year just a few days before Christmas. I steal back my bluetooth speaker from my eldest and I pick a Rat Pack Christmas album on Pandora to listen to.<br />
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I have not walked this rainy day and I don't want to go to the crowded mall which is my go to for inclimate weather. But this music by Frank, Nat, and Dean makes me want to move. I wonder if I can get my cardio in this way?! "Fly Me to the Moon", "The Way You Look Tonight", "I Love You for Sentimental Reasons", "I Could Write a Book" and "Fever" are the selections that are played after my Christmas album is over.<br />
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Pandora really knows Me (Okay, yes, they have a good algorithm. )<br />
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As I'm wrapping the presents that only I know about, I will be delighted to see the family's reactions when they open the presents. I'm on a little high. I'm dancing and wrapping.<br />
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<i><b>It's such a lovely delicate moment. </b></i><br />
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And then it pops in my head and heart that I'm channeling my mother in law right now.<br />
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My mother in law, Mary loved Christmas and Frank Sinatra. She had several of his CDs in her collection that we have now. Her parents did not have a lot of money as she grew up in a Pennsylvania coal mining town <br />
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with her six brothers. Christmas presents were sparse for the Polish immigrants who came through Ellis Island. Mary delighted in making a big deal out of Christmas for her children growing up and that spread to her grandchildren.<br />
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I had wondered why I loved to dance and clean the kitchen to this era of music that I did not belong to. And it finally dawned on me, it was Mary. Mary was my savior with our young daughters. She delighted in spending time with our family, but she also would quietly wash clothes, clean the kitchen and loved ironing! What?!! She also sat down and played with the kids, even climbing in the crib to do so.<br />
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There comes a time when you can feel your departed loved ones presence. It hit me that GaGa was with me as I wrapped. Goose bumps arose when I put the two together. I have heard TV mediums says those goosebumps or when emotions wash over you means your loved ones are present with you.<br />
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I believe it.<br />
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Mallory and I were in Piccadilly months ago, and there was an older gentleman playing a keyboard for the older crowd that was there. My old soul youngest child loves Piccadilly mashed potatoes and friend chicken. We sat down with our food and I started listening and I was overcome with emotion. It was not my era of music and I don't really remember what they were playing but Dad came into my mind. He loved to dance and this was his era. Blueberry Hill was playing when we left. It's very powerful when these emotions come over you. It cannot be denied, something is going on.<br />
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These moments don't last long but when they come along, I acknowledge them and the person they remind me of. It's a bit of delicate mysticism and I embrace it fully.<br />
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The rest of the family thinks I'm crazy, but I want to visit a local medium. I'll let you know what happens.<br />
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Namaste.<br />
<br />C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-23215233105738533542019-07-26T09:34:00.000-07:002019-07-26T10:50:41.038-07:00The Mueller Hearing Should Have Had More Glamour<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="bdnbd" data-offset-key="5v7ar-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The bottom line from the decorated war veteran who kept our country safe under several Presidents, is that the current President committed crimes but could not be charged because of Department of Justice, Office of Legal Counsel policy. Russia interfered and continues to do so and our current President who is now beholden to Russia will do nothing to stop it because he benefited from it. So our Intelligence agencies do their jobs, and yet... it doesn't matter. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Also could there BE any more dichotomy between straight as an arrow, honest to a fault, full of integrity Mueller and then you knowTrump.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I still don't understand why are Presidents above the law when they commit crimes to get to the office? Can't this policy be changed? </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="9vbft-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We have come to a strange sad time in this country where the law and order party means it's okay to welcome and use hostile foreign powers to win an election (and be indebted to that hostile foreign power). Then lie about it to authorities, refuse to cooperate and everyone looks the other way and lies about it. This happened during Nixon's time as well, and only until there was dramatic testimony after weeks and weeks of hearings did the tide finally turn</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. None of Trump's players will testify. It takes one brave person to step forth and tell the truth and no, it's not the fixer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We evidently need a prime time glitzy broadcast to educate the general public, so that the facts and the law are presented in a way that everyone can understand, because plain spoken brief affirmations from an aging war horse isn't enough. We need razzle dazzle with female models who are tens only, and lots of American flags, and maybe tanks? It needs to be more like a reality show, with suspense, good lighting, a perfect television soundbite, and a studio crowd yelling "lock him up." That would get the job done, right? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The truth has gone by the wayside. The truth is pummeled every day to bits by this President and the party that stands by him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have sadly accepted that because of the Republican majority Senate, Trump will either have to be voted out or serve another four years. For my mental health, I have had to let it go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that seems to be the spiritual path as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But this is hard to watch if you believe in truth and justice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then there's God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> You know, you are not supposed to discuss politics or religion with others. This current situation combines both for me, because I can't fathom how "Christians" and their leaders support this lying, corrupt, egotistical person with no morals or ethics. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who would be drawn to Christianity when Evangelical support for Trump has never wavered? A lying, corrupt, inarticulate, pussy grabbing, draft dodging, racist, dictator loving, fascist leaning President who needs to be the center of attention at all times. He uses and abuses race bating, patriotism, and qualifies for two different personality disorders. He paints complicated issues in broad strokes and continues to amplify the division in our country to new lows. All while never cracking open and reading a briefing. (That one really kills me LOL) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Trump is the ultimate black and white thinker. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And this is exactly what all Christians are called spiritually to overcome. Hold the tension. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lose yourself and your ego and let go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Trust in a higher power. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jesus, the long haired brown skinned Eastern European Jew, did not reside in America or embrace Christianity but said love your neighbor as yourself. Take care of the less fortunate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hold the tension. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If we learn to hold the tension of the opposites, we are able to stretch and grow. When there is more space for seemingly opposite ideas, feelings and behaviors to peacefully coexist. We become less rigid and more flexible, less judgmental and more tolerant, less fearful and more loving.* </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">More loving. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Didn't Jesus say to love?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Laws are broken, there is no justice. Story as old as time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I really work to see the other point of political view but </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm worn down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Trump and his team broke several laws but yet, the only consequences will come after he leaves office. There are also emolument clauses, campaign finance laws and everything he boasted about for years and will any of that come to justice. His dad also gave him four hundred million dollars over time, much of it, was to bail him out of bankruptcy. Laws were broken to avoid paying taxes which are too old to prosecute. I'm sure there's more, but I'm too tired. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So tired of it all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes things have to go really bleak, in order to become anew. Can the country do that? The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice. I must remember that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All I know now, is that my part now, is to hold the tension and love my neighbor. Even those who love Trump. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">{Gulp} </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Letting it go, holding that tension. Wave at the person who waves at me driving down my street while I walk the dogs. Smile at a stranger. Hold open the door for the next person. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Namaste.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(With thanks to Psychology Today)</span><br />
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C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-30951677207558783622019-06-18T05:48:00.001-07:002022-06-18T05:51:59.280-07:00Father's Day Meal at A Men's ShelterI have to remind myself not to look at Facebook on certain days like Father's Day because people will express their heartfelt appreciations of love and devotion to their father. And for years, I thought something was wrong with me because I didn't feel that way. When Dad passed away in August of 2014, I wrote a piece about him and it summed things up pretty well.<br />
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<a href="https://timetogolightly.blogspot.com/2014/08/no-words-just-firm-squeeze.html">https://timetogolightly.blogspot.com/2014/08/no-words-just-firm-squeeze.html</a><br />
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I loved him but I didn't feel emotionally connected to him. I know he loved me but I couldn't feel it. He was who he was, and he wasn't changing. I had to accept this and make peace.<br />
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It takes time to accept people for who they are even after death. (And accepting myself...)<br />
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On occasion, I am surprised by certain emotions that come to the surface seemingly randomly. When I become verklempt or the hairs rise on my arms and legs, this means a loved one is around. A few months back, on a weekday when Mallory was off from school, we went to her favorite place to eat at the time. After we went through the Picadilly cafeteria line, we discovered a gentleman playing a keyboard. We sat down and as I listened, my eyes began welling up. The ugly cry was just around the corner. He was playing music for the "older folks" in attendance. I can't remember the songs exactly but as we were leaving, Blueberry Hill was being played. Dad was present. These weren't my songs, some of them were his. He loved dancing and that is how he and Mom courted. And she would want me to mention they won a dance contest on one of their first dates in the late 1950's!<br />
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Holding the tension. Holding very dissimilar and opposite notions at the same time and being at peace with both of them. This is spirituality to me. This is what Jesus was teaching but his message has become very cloudy. Mysticism...another topic for later. Except this writing is mysticism.<br />
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On Father's Day, I signed Riley and I up to make and serve an entree with other National Charity League moms and daughters at Bishop Ott Men's Shelter. We went to a bleak part of town in a run down building and found thirteen men in need of an evening meal. These were men who had no where else to go. Part of me wanted to sit down and engage with them and the other part of me wanted to get the job done and escape back to the comfort of home. My heart is a bleeding one. I root for the underdog. I put myself in their shoes. I remember listening to a woman from Connections for Life talk. She had been in jail and was in a transition program to learn life skills to rehabilitate her life. All I kept thinking was, wow, that could be me except I was afforded the opportunity to go college. College doesn't change everything but it's a major leg up.<br />
<br />
<br />
Dad really wanted his children educated. He and mom sacrificed for private school in our small community, and for college educations for my siblings and I.<br />
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I came home from Bishop Ott and felt affected. As the men ate, the group of moms and daughters discussed ACT exams and Junior and Senior years. The future. One man walked off with his belongings in a trash bag and waited for a ride at the bus stop. The contrast between the two groups stayed with me.<br />
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Humbled.<br />
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These men were appreciative for the meal and expressed it. The supervisor of the site, prayed over our meal, for us ladies in particular and our travels, as well as for the men there.<br />
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Humbled.<br />
<br />
Later that night, I read my sister's FB post about my dad. She had a different experience of him having lived close by each other and Dad's ability to fix or create almost anything around the house and property. I didn't have this experience and for a brief moment, I felt longing.<br />
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And then it came together.<br />
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I thought of the day's experience and holding the tension. My experience can be different even with the same person. Even though I very much wanted to be emotionally connected to my dad, I can hold that tension and be grateful that Dad showed his love in another way. He wanted me to be educated. That opens so many doors and opportunities. I can <b>feel </b>that now.<br />
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Dad put me in a position to be a helper. I can be with a person in a very different situation than I, look at that person in the eye and smile and serve a meal. It is a small service but it is one that I can do.<br />
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Holding the tension, being in the present moment.<br />
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Namaste.C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-61391665542818174672019-05-05T10:32:00.003-07:002019-05-05T10:53:43.786-07:00Allowing Persons (and Dogs) To Be Who They Are<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are my buddies. I never had an inside dog that I bonded with until this beagle, Annie, on the right. A year later, we adopted the mixed breed, Brinkley because Annie was fearful of George. Brinkley has taught me unconditional love and Anne, well, she has increased the amount of laughter in the household immeasurably. In the past year plus, the teenage girls in the house obsess over Ann (the name they began calling Annie) I have to send pictures when they are away from the house. They come and greet her, and ignore Brinkely. I don't try to understand it, I just roll with it although Brinkley is so much more responsive in every way unless it's the food bowl.<br />
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It is my job to walk them in the morning. My husband, George walks them at night. Sometimes on the weekends, he walks them both. We had a brief conversation that I would walk them today. I became busy with stuff inside and George was busy outside.<br />
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And then I tried to walk the dogs.<br />
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Brinkley was raring to go in his youthful self. Annie not so much. After her vet appointment yesterday and with the evidence of her ever whitening fur coat, we know she's reaching her elder years. We don't know her exact age, but now there is a heart murmur ( And an every present cherry eye that no longer ruins my appetite.)<br />
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So Annie very reluctantly comes to the front door when I call, but we don't get very far in the walk and she is not budging. Brinkley is way ahead of me, and Annie is lagging way behind. A jogger going by, laughed and said, "Resistance." I laughed, and said yes, she is resistant.<br />
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And then a magical thing occurred... I accepted it.<br />
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I accepted Annie for who she was in that moment.<br />
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Why fight her on this? I will be home this morning and let her outside to relieve herself. George will be home this afternoon. She obviously doesn't want to walk.<br />
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So I accepted it.<br />
<br />
I know this is a dog but you know ... I have fought with this dog a lot, early on. She peed on my carpet and ruined it on one side of the house. I did not like her for a long while. She tried to escape several times, and it came to a point, that if it wasn't for the chip that identified her as ours, I would have let her go. I had to learn boundaries with her. And once that was established, LOVE.<br />
<br />
Also, she might be sore from her shots. So I dropped her off back at the house and continued with Brinkley. But he was acting weird too. He was choosing to lay down on the ground and rub his back on the grass multiple times. He looked ecstatic in these actions.<br />
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Then I get the text from George and it all made sense.<br />
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So much for communication. </div>
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What I took away from this little escapade. People (and dogs) will show me who they are in the moment or on an ongoing basis. I am learning to believe them. Even bigger is to accept them for who they are and know that it is not a reflection of who I am. </div>
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That is the kicker. </div>
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It is not a reflection of who I am. </div>
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I didn't even get mad at George. It was funny. </div>
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Namaste. </div>
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<br />C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-45749692941341445472019-03-07T08:38:00.000-08:002019-03-08T07:14:51.867-08:00A Retreat Like No Other: Holding The TensionI went on a spiritual retreat this past weekend. I attended the same version of it at least ten years ago. I thought I knew what to expect. I was in for a surprise.<br />
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The retreat is a boundaried place so I am going to speak in generalities.<br />
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The first night, I looked around the group of ladies sitting in a circle and I spotted someone who I thought was the person that I had a bad encounter with years ago. My body turned to mush because I had been more on the receiving end of the encounter. It was the same person. I was never recognized yet I kinda wish I would have addressed it. We are both in different places now I think.<br />
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But I let it go. There were other things I had to chew on instead.<br />
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On two other occasions, I heard words spoken by one person that was moved in the moment and then another spoke of spiritual concepts that jarred me. <b>And after a few moments of agitation, I thought, I can detach from this. </b>And when and if appropriate I can speak up and give my truth without negating what these other person's experiences are.<br />
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For so long, when I was growing up and in adult years as well, I would not speak up. I did not voice my experience around certain people or groups. I learned to get along by staying silent and going with the flow. That silence when I wanted to talk, ate me up. And this blog for the last ten years is helping me to write my way out. (Thank you Lin Manuel Miranda!) It's a skill to learn to express oneself verbally assertively without aggression or passivity and I have bumbled my way through at times. But to be honest, the skill set is one thing, what it's really about is not caring what others think.<br />
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Learning to let go of that too.<br />
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Back at the retreat, on another occasion, issues of a political nature were brought up in casual conversation, in the very last place I thought I would have to hear it. My entire body turned to mush once again. I politely said I was finished with the task at hand and got the heck out. I did try to mumble that we shouldn't talk about politics, and the person said we weren't, but the topic was very much a current political one. Why on earth would one bring this particular subject in casual conversation at a spiritual retreat? It was progress for me to get up and leave as I would have sat silently years ago. <br />
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So now there are three persons I'm trying to avoid sitting by at group.<br />
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Relaxing retreat. Ha ha ha!<br />
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Growth is not relaxing.<br />
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I phoned a friend as I walked around the campus, and calmed down. I knew I wanted to stay and dang it, I was going to get something out of this retreat, other than dodging persons or sentiments that pushed my buttons. We had a lovely afternoon break and I took not one but two naps. I knew that this experience was about holding the tension. The idea of holding the dark and the light at the same time with equal respect was first introduced to me by Father Richard Rohr when he visited our church many years ago. It's not seeing the world in black and white, but in grey. In the first half of life, we have to know good and bad, right and wrong to not get burned by the stove or drown, etc. But at midlife, we can wake up and embrace that not each person or issue or experience is all right or all wrong, or good or bad. It's a lot of ego work. It's all about the ego. <br />
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And in holding that tension, there can be spiritual breakthroughs.<br />
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By letting go of my ego reactions to all of the above mentioned so-called "negative" situations, I did have growth. At the proper time, I spoke up when I had the opportunity to express a different experience with the same issue than what someone else did. I also said it was okay that we have different experiences. <br />
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I was telling myself that as much as I was speaking to the group.<br />
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I also requested time with those in "charge" to discuss a matter that had been lying on my heart for months. I was heard, understood, and acknowledged. <br />
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I also watched the participants whom I differed with, have their own strong aha moments. Sitting with the tension spurned me to come to the conclusion that all those attending were here for their relationship with God as was I. My initial ego reaction would be to slam these other people, try to find someone to back me up. We just have different words, mannerisms, paths and theologies. Most importantly is we don't all have to be on the same page. (Living the tension at it's finest here!) It is heavenly to find those in the same book, and thrilling to find someone in the same chapter though. <br />
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As I have learned what methodologies spur a deeper faith, trust and relationship with God and all of creation, I can't ignore that which works for me and that which doesn't. I know it to the core of my being what brings me deeper, as do these other folks but of course, these can conflict. I know certain words, phrases, and sentiments that I experienced in my past, are language that does not bring me closer to God. The critical point is the recognition that people have different ways of achieving a similar end. I can notice the buttons pushed in myself and work to be non-critical, and curious both of myself and the other person. It seems as though this act of detaching from the button pushing will always lead to growth. <br />
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Leaning in to the tension.<br />
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Namaste<br />
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C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-25982554148809377332018-12-20T08:22:00.000-08:002018-12-20T08:30:50.697-08:00Chest Pains At Fifty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday, was the first day of Christmas vacation for my youngest. I set my alarm for the late, late time of 7:00 am and it was luscious. Eldest daughter is still taking exams, but she is autonomous. I just have to run after her to give a one-sided hug that she resists before she drives off. <br />
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Night before last, I had my nails painted. I went jezebel and had my always clear nails painted RED! And not just any red but <i>The Breakfast at Tiffanys</i> inspired, "Got the Mean Reds." I just keep staring at them delightfully. I know they will start chipping soon, so I am soaking in their perfection as long as I can.<br />
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Sometimes, you just need to treat yourself. <br />
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<b>Sometimes, I just need to take care of myself.</b><br />
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After the nail salon visit, I discovered it was the 20th anniversary of <i>You've Got Mail.</i> One of my absolute favorite movies of all time. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it, I will watch it again.<br />
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I discovered this on their Facebook page that I liked and followed some time ago. So I decided immediately to share my love of the movie on this public site.<br />
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There's been a big response with 917 other <i>You've Got Mail </i>lovers liking my photo. I'm enjoying the comments as well. Other fans, made the same trek and have dogs named Brinkley too. They love the daisies and smart dialogue as much as I do. I turned the movie on yesterday morning and began noticing things I hadn't the other umpteen times I have watched this Nora Ephron masterpiece. </div>
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This is a tiny bit of connecting with others who love a piece of art as much as I do. Those little connections are just plain fun. But in the back of my mind, I think of everything else that I need to be doing. The house needs attention, the dogs need walking, there are gifts to be wrapped, errands to be run, etc. </div>
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But sometimes you just have to stop and smell the daisies, because it's fun.</div>
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I have spent years judging myself that I'm not doing enough, I'm not working hard enough. I'm a stay at home mom and therefore I should be doing more, and not taking a break (for a movie during a weekday morning, are you kidding?) Work harder. Do More. Compare yourself to others. </div>
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God Bless. SMH</div>
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<b>It's time to let that go.</b> </div>
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We each have our own unique situations and I don't need to compare anymore.</div>
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I've done a lot of healing work to let go of feelings of unworthiness, because that's what those nagging feelings are about. The notion of shame (a la Brene Brown) has been brought up to me again recently. Per Brene: "I define shame as the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging - something we have experienced, done or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection. </div>
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Whoa. There are people in my life who I have been unable to connect with that I think I should and I take that mantle on and carry that shame, that there is something wrong with me. </div>
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People are who they are, and you cannot change them, no matter how much you desperately want to have a connection. </div>
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<b>It's time to let that go</b>. </div>
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I turned fifty this year while I was having fairly intense back pain (sacroiliac joint out of whack, thank you) On top of that, I had a failed EKG in November. Thankfully I passed a three and a half hour cardiac stress test on Black Friday. This was done because I was having chest pains and sensations in my arms and my blood pressure now rises when I'm in the doctor's office. So it seems that this is anxiety. Probably related to peri-menopause, teaching the eldest to drive for the last 8 months, and maybe politics?!! LOL I'm just a little passionate about politics...</div>
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My body is telling me to chill the F out. (Sorry, not sorry) </div>
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We push things down and go on because we need to, have to, and it's really painful to stop and feel the energy that comes through when we stop. The feelings (energy) that come through though will not kill us. For the most part, we have already gone through them. Our psyche is trying to teach us though. It comes through until we pay attention to it. <b>It is likely, if we don't stop and allow the energy to move through, it will kill us. </b></div>
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I listened to an authority on the body say, the body will have the last word. </div>
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Having chest pains is really scary. It is still scary even after you have a clear cardiac stress test. </div>
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My pain has slowed down considerably, yet it happened again yesterday while I was in a movie. Mary freakin' Poppins Returns. Yet the movie made me cry about a longing for connection. I am just beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together of when they come on. It seems to be related to thoughts. I've been working on my thoughts and feelings with an unwavering focus for ten years. Ten freaking years. And I am a little angry that my body is betraying me. </div>
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Work harder, do contemplation, mindfulness, spirituality better!!</div>
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I may need to take an anti-depressant even though I'm trying all kinds of supplements not to do that. It may just be MY body chemistry at this time in my life needs extra serotonin. This is a huge hurdle for me to accept. I just don't want to take it. </div>
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But I might just need to take care of myself. Whatever and however that looks. </div>
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There is a deep acceptance of that coming for me. Thank you anxiety. </div>
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It's not comfortable to have chest pains. The body will win in the end. </div>
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My body is clearly trying to get my attention and to accept what is. I must treat myself kindly however that looks. I am the only person who can do that. </div>
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Namaste.</div>
C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-8349122409444458252018-09-29T07:52:00.000-07:002018-09-29T09:58:28.888-07:00He Failed the Job Interview for the Highest Court in the LandOn Thursday, a very compelling, articulate, credible woman told her truth of a sexual assault naming her attacker. Dr. Christine Blasey Ford does not remember exact details, like how she got home when she was running for her life. Victims of assault don't remember because there has been TRAUMA. Trauma changes everything. But she absolutely remembers the person(s) who physically assaulted her in the room and the man who held his hand over her mouth removing her ability to breathe. The sounds of Mark Judge and Brett Kavanaugh's laughter is forever burned in her memory. Her life has been affected for the last 37 years. <br />
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Thirty Seven Years.<br />
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Sexual Assault survivors are affected for the rest of their lives.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipICtcBTogZ3apavNYpRvug7xnalQhtk0rAUuMzGurOwYo1wuLVogQoMDsUGBLqtTOi-Cfa1gsou_yGIcRPmOf455Jc7OuRX1a5GWSmcWoVlptbthyOfDMgW2TxcXNpMp-MDv9eHJrdWgk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-09-29+at+8.57.52+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="1073" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipICtcBTogZ3apavNYpRvug7xnalQhtk0rAUuMzGurOwYo1wuLVogQoMDsUGBLqtTOi-Cfa1gsou_yGIcRPmOf455Jc7OuRX1a5GWSmcWoVlptbthyOfDMgW2TxcXNpMp-MDv9eHJrdWgk/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-09-29+at+8.57.52+AM.png" width="320" /></a>How many women don't come forward because they are shamed, scared and know they will not be believed? After the President, who has been accused of sexual assault himself, said it was Dr. Ford's fault for not coming forward when she was fifteen, survivors who have never previously uttered a word to anyone, spoke of their painful stories en masse. Yet even when women do the bravest thing possible, it just doesn't matter. It comes down to a "he said, she said." The old white men side with the other man. The statistics are sad and dismal. Women do not come forward. Cases do not go to trial and there are not convictions. Rape kits sit untested. There are not usually witnesses to assaults. And the assaulters get away with their behavior.<br />
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The hearing on Thursday was a "he said, she said" without any other witnesses allowed. She was very credible. He was angry, condescending, and evasive. So what is the answer? Old white men apologize to the entitled white man and vote him in. They ignore her truth and are astonished and moved at his emotion. But his emotion was from being found out and letting his family down. And the white male senators couldn't handle one of themselves crying. "The Democrats broke this man."<br />
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No, Kavanaugh broke himself.<br />
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Most men and even women, especially these male Senators, don't know how to recognize emotional behaviors in front of their eyes. They run from anything vulnerable. They recognize and adulate power.<br />
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It is sad that he feels so entitled, that he came out swinging for a lifetime spot on the most dignified and important bench in the United States. He is no longer qualified because he failed his job interview. He was playing to a jury of one who appreciates bold and brash denials. Roy Cohn, the McCarthy lawyer taught that one man jury how to do it so well. <br />
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It is time for the old white men's club to be dismantled.<br />
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I wish I were one to get out there and march and speak up. But my calling is to write. Perhaps because I live in the Deep South Bible Belt and it was ingrained in me by the culture to smile, be pretty and stay quiet. This is my own personal quiet revolution. Writing these words are a coming out in the midst of a deeply red state with very small blue spots in cities. My senators are the worst. One gives quotable shticky one liners and the other writes articles for mysogynistic, racist websites.<br />
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I identified with Dr. Ford sitting in that interview. She was bright, articulate and funny. When she began speaking about the assault, she became the fifteen year old girl again. That is what trauma does to one. But she knew who attacked her.<br />
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Judge Kavanaugh was on a high pressure job interview for a seat on the highest bench in the land. When he began speaking it was belligerent, partisan, entitled and condescending. This is not how a judge should comport himself or herself and shows his true character. Assault charges aside, he is not the best candidate for the job because of how he behaved Thursday. What his actions revealed was a white man who has always had privilege and could not believe that he was being called out. He was crying because he got caught. From his actions under oath, it is entirely believable that he could act aggressive and violently when alcohol enters his bloodstream.<br />
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He must have been the shy kid who drank excessively and wasn't having sex but wanted to. He was conflicted about a natural desire and what was dictated by his religious culture. There seem to be several classmates coming forward to reveal he was a nasty drunk and not exactly the do gooder that he wants the world to believe. None of us are good as we want ourselves to be but don't fib about it under oath.<br />
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Kavanaugh is not the best person for this job to legislate women's issues for the next thirty to forty years. Nominate another candidate. Push that candidate through before the midterms. <br />
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It is unfortunate that Dr. Ford's story was leaked when she wasn't ready. It is unfortunate that the other accusers came forward at the last minute of an arbitrary deadline. For survivors, there is strength in numbers. But the allegations have been brought out, and now Senators have to deal with it and follow tradition of due process and not throw hissy fits about it. Senator Graham doesn't want to know the truth. Did he watch her testimony? Thank goodness Senator Flake got caught in that elevator with a brave survivor speaking her truth. And now there is one week for the FBI to gather more information. One week only was given for a lifetime appointment.<br />
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In the hearing, Judge Kavanaugh over and over refused to say out loud, let the FBI clear my name. He kept repeating, I'll do what the committee says. Because he knew the Majority on the committee was behind him. He doesn't want further digging. Why? He absolutely doesn't want Mark Judge to testify. He knows he drank too much at times and something in him deep inside, that he's not ready to admit yet, doesn't know what happened every time. Kavanaugh lied about several facts including Renate, the triangle, and boofing, or whatever it was. There are other lies related to judicial matters. Instead of answering the blackout drinking question, he made a turn to aggressively ask the kind and seemingly meek <b>female</b> Senator Klobuchar if she had the alcohol problem. This is what a defensive, guilty aggressive person does. He is trying to paint himself as the victim when Dr. Ford's life has been affected for the last thirty seven years. People at that particular gathering where the assault took place may not know anything because she ran away and didn't tell anyone as survivors do, but there are people that could testify to a pattern of his behavior, mental health professionals that would explain her memory gaps, lie detector results for both of them and character witnesses on both sides. And then there are the other accusers.<br />
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We are at a place today, where getting the facts still may not make a difference because of the makeup of the Senate.<br />
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The Senate Judiciary Majority are completely ignoring the other accusers that have come forward because they don't want to know anymore and they want to push this nomination through. (Merrick Garland, anyone?) Those accusers are willing to testify under oath to the FBI, the non-partisan information gathering body. Kavanaugh doesn't, but why? He just kept repeating, "I was ready to show up the next day to clear my name." The next day would not give any time for an investigation. How does a Federal Judge not understand that concept?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of Megamamas</td></tr>
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When people are found out, they do lie to save themselves. Our President is one of those who lies every day, day in and day out. He has no credibility whatsoever in this matter. He calls all his accusers liars. And he was found out to be lying about Stormy Daniels per his own lawyer. Judge Kavanaugh has proven to be on the same page as the partisan pussy grabber in chief to double down and repeat a lie until it seems it's the truth. Judge Kavanaugh defended himself in a brash, aggressive manner maybe because that's who he really is or for Trump so that he would remain the nominee. There is no doubt he and his family has suffered in the last 2 weeks, (contrast that with 37 years) but when you want to sit on the most respected, highest court in the land for the <i>next thirty to forty years</i>, the candidate must be thoroughly investigated even when new allegations come <i>at the very last moment. </i><br />
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Sexual assault victims do not come forward.<br />
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Dr. Ford showed more character, bravery and <b>composure</b> after a lifetime of suffering. She did her civic duty. She's reliving her worst trauma in front of the nation but she didn't whine and complain like Dr. Kavanaugh. Women can be Steel Magnolias. Judge Kavanaugh is having to come to grips with his past too. Perhaps he could have come clean and said, I don't remember what happened when I drank too much, it is possible but I don't know. I am a changed man now.<br />
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Those are pipe dreams I know. But one day in the future.<br />
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There were witnesses to his past and I hope we find out more of the truth. I don't count on it because I have equal parts pessimism and optimism in me. <br />
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I do know, he failed the job interview.<br />
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I hope beyond all hope, that there is a wave of qualified women and minorities coming forth to lead and dismantle the old boys club. Women came forward after Anita Hill and ran for office in record numbers. It is accepted that what Dr. Hill said back then was true about Judge Thomas and she was maligned in the process. And some of the same men back then are still judging now. What will we know about this particular assault in the future? What truths will come out over time?C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4754446662344340166.post-31154561890524026642018-09-12T09:05:00.002-07:002018-09-16T05:26:58.672-07:00A Lesson on Paying Attention and Seeing SignsA former first grade teacher that taught both of my girls was having stomach troubles after having beaten breast cancer a few years earlier. She and her husband have a high school sophomore daughter, the same age as my eldest and an older son that is a senior in high school. She was quiet and reserved but you knew she was present. It took me a while to understand this though. Having people in your life that are with you full on in the moments that you spend with them is an amazing gift. It's nothing about themselves in that moment, it's all focused on you. I have been diligently learning how to be present, especially with my children. Shirley possessed that ability with such quiet grace.<br />
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I didn't really get to know her during the lower school years but after she retired, I had an experience when we were both chaperoning a middle school cotillion dance session. This is when I saw the mom side of her and her sense of humor. It was a wonderful surprise to get to know that side. I didn't see her much after that as our children were at different schools. But I struck up a friendship with her husband through social media. He is the most gracious, friendly, down to earth, and kind man. He doesn't meet a stranger and he sends a note to mark the smallest of occasions. I think he read one of my blogs and made me feel special because he took the time to comment on what had struck a chord with him.<br />
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You never know how a small action can affect another person in a positive way. <br />
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This past April, I was sitting in an Old Navy dressing room with one of my daughters and I got a FB message from him, that was written by Shirley. My heart dropped and the tears fell as I understood what I read. She had just been diagnosed with stomach cancer and the prognosis didn't seem good. <br />
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From an outsider's perspective, her writing and what her husband shared as times went on, she was strong and brave and had accepted her fate with a deep faithfulness. I was awed by their strength. She had lost her own father young in her life. She had conversations with her children for them to understand they knew her and would know what she would think for matters in the future. <br />
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Those are brave and vulnerable conversations.<br />
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This family's journey has struck something in me and has stayed with me.<br />
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As time progressed, there were updates through FB and then Caring Bridge. By summer, they stopped treatment because she wanted to live out the rest of her time, with her family and travel.<br />
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From a selfish point of view, I thought what if I were in the same situation leaving my daughters and husband behind.<br />
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Life just doesn't seem fair. I have come to expect that stuff just happens, and I think about my faith. Could I handle a journey like that? Could I be gracious? I still have a lot of fear and anxiety that pop up for me yet I am coming to understand the true unconditional nature of God.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSum09BVAGptVITJAmYOmwN9xHgsDIzCv5iZT_1_QpYa7Qgdm9cYG0dkLdnUbjQ1PagSLs5z3siaOtpTAF7WrfnGeJvG9EWe10VuU_NHJ1PqTw68cRD9EM-X30TlaA5SEj2apzcs_jcZhf/s1600/IMG_6494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1201" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSum09BVAGptVITJAmYOmwN9xHgsDIzCv5iZT_1_QpYa7Qgdm9cYG0dkLdnUbjQ1PagSLs5z3siaOtpTAF7WrfnGeJvG9EWe10VuU_NHJ1PqTw68cRD9EM-X30TlaA5SEj2apzcs_jcZhf/s320/IMG_6494.jpg" width="240" /></a>I know for sure, that God has ways of helping me understand things that are too much for me, if I stay aware and open. The signs of God's unconditional love never look like what I think they will, but they fill the need if I am patient and let go. They are obvious especially as I practice observance.<br />
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In our neighborhood, for many months, there have been three pet bunnies that have roamed across the street in my neighbors' yards and sometimes in our own yard. They ran mostly between the three yards directly across from my house. When I have come outdoors, I never remembered to look for them. I was always unexpectedly delighted in spotting a combination of the white one or the two brown ones. Seeing those white cotton tails hop away brought me such joy in that moment. But I also knew those bunnies weren't going to be around forever. After a while, we noticed we hadn't spotted the white bunny for some time.<br />
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One Saturday a few weeks ago, Shirley's husband posted a picture on Facebook of a fox that was in their neighborhood. On Sunday afternoon, my neighbor posted a picture with a very similar looking fox, with one of the brown bunnies that it had killed next to it. <br />
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What a coincidence.<br />
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I couldn't help but think of this family. They don't live that far away from us by foot with a BREC park and woods nearby. <br />
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Within days, I received the news that Shirley had moved to a hospice facility.<br />
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And not much time after that, my husband texted me on his way to work that the fox was lying dead on one of the streets of our neighborhood. It looked like it was peacefully sleeping with not a mark on it. <br />
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Again, my thoughts turned to this family. What does this mean?<br />
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A few days later, my neighbor and I who have talked many times about the wildlife that has showed up in our area, texted me a picture of a beautiful white stately egret that was on her back fence.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYCIoFWP48H56bc77UIjbVfHDTBN9f7raThmQdVtz6z4cw5vOlUDPOBGlj9MAn3tNwz1HmxaJg0i-xrErPSVMUxt3cSSpIJVaO48NlaNqxc7c2cCP7-rq-zBSIEEkYQb33RZn-uUhxy_P/s1600/IMG_7633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYCIoFWP48H56bc77UIjbVfHDTBN9f7raThmQdVtz6z4cw5vOlUDPOBGlj9MAn3tNwz1HmxaJg0i-xrErPSVMUxt3cSSpIJVaO48NlaNqxc7c2cCP7-rq-zBSIEEkYQb33RZn-uUhxy_P/s320/IMG_7633.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="text-align: center;">That night Shirley passed away.</span><br />
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The next day, I read the news that she had moved into the great mystery. That afternoon, Mallory and I spotted the egret with our own eyes in another neighbor's yard.<br />
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On the morning of her service, I was walking the dogs and it hit me that I really, really wanted to spot the remaining bunny before I left. I had seen it previously and neighbors had seen it recently.<br />
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But then I got it.<br />
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I wasn't going to see the bunny. I had already seen the beautiful white egret. <br />
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I don't have control over what happens in this world. I have to look for the Divine signs that life goes on. Loved ones are still with us if we pay attention. <br />
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When I read the quotes in Shirley's funeral program, I was taken aback with what had been chosen. They were so perfect and so meaningful. It's more important what you do in your life in the time you have, how you make people feel and to celebrate even when things come to an end. Be grateful for the moment at hand. This has been a goal of mine to learn to live life in the moment at hand. <br />
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Shirley was a beautiful, gracious and faithful soul. She inspires me to live my life authentically as I am.<br />
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Namaste.C Golightlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09344460297920382993noreply@blogger.com1