Today I put before you…
People everywhere are announcing their “word” for 2018. Admittedly I used to roll my eyes and shake my head over this. Of course you can choose “prosperity,” you’re healthy and able to work. And you, yeah go ahead and claim “explore” because you can travel pain free. Oh, “self care” now that’s unique. Like we need another person spending their Sundays soaking in a bath eating bonbons. So, yeah, I’ve been caustic.
But I am learning the power of words. I’m seeing the point of intention and meditating on things. Really, that’s like praying. Asking for favour. Accepting blessings. Being purposeful. So maybe I’ll do this, too.
My word is words, plural. And they are huge. They were handed to me. Surprisingly, against all odds I was given a life, a baby. And although not healthy or 100% well, I’m getting better. Life is being handed back to me slowly, in pieces. I need to build it carefully. Set it up on a strong foundation, and create tall walls but also large windows to let the light in. Follow me on this construction project of 2018 I’m calling: “Choose Life.” I’m doing it for my son. I’m claiming it for me.
What I think, what I say, what I eat, what I do. Is it life-giving? Is it healthy? Will it bring joy and creativity and the breath of life to my recovery and to my family? So I guess the chocolate bars I have hidden gotta go! And I need to quite writing this to go nap with my son. ❤️
How do you come to terms with facing the same loss over and over again? Most goodbyes are final. You grieve and then learn to live without. But what happens when you are gifted and denied your passion repeatedly? I am once again facing the same loss I have grieved four times before, and determining how to hope without setting myself up for disappointment, and how to proceed cautiously without dreaming too small. Continue reading to see how I’m facing this and what a stubborn beagle has to do with my newest challenge. Continue Reading…
I am a huge fan of Alfred Hitchcock films. North by Northwest is a favourite. To calm down after a Thanksgiving fiasco one year, it was an Alfred Hitchcock marathon we watched while eating pizza. Perhaps my love of the films blossomed because it marked a breakthrough in our marriage and coping with this disease. Strangely I get warm fuzzy feelings watching The Birds, Vertigo, Rear Window, and even Psycho because of that memory. North by Northwest has an amazing scene that is set on Mount Rushmore. As we drove up to the parking lot I felt excitement for the first time in months. I felt blessed as clouds rolled in. I felt capable of walking to see these famous carvings. Phrases from Teddy Roosevelt’s speeches and biographies came to me as I looked at his face. I recalled that Teddy Roosevelt was a sickly child. He was small and suffered from asthma, gasping for air at night. He was weak compared to other boys his age. Instead of caving in to this, he did exercises at home, slowly conditioning his body. Like me, he was riddled with fears. To prevail he simply did things afraid. He pretended he wasn’t afraid in order to overcome. I seemed to do that too. I was always scared. People said, “You are so brave. I couldn’t endure those treatments” and even, “You look so calm. You must be handling this well.”
The truth is I am often scared, silently fretting. I do not speak of these fears aloud very often. I do not allow the fears to have a voice or I would never be able to silence them. I choose to push through and do things afraid. I can convince myself that I am strong and brave. Fake it till I make it. Coinciding with the height of one scary situation was a trip to Mount Rushmore. My fears were mounting to the point of spilling out into a full blown panic attack. But looking at Teddy Roosevelt’s face carved in solid stone reminded me to press on, to do things afraid. Just because we are scared does not give us permission to quit. It was fitting to be at Mount Rushmore on July 4, to be bolstered by history and stone.
It seems most bleak in the earliest morning; the darkness tries to settle into my soul just before the sun rises. Thankfully I never give in to it, that depth of despair. For like the sun, hope rises anew every morning. Shining, reflecting, providing a new day, a new perspective. Even if nothing has changed, somehow it is different and I can begin again. So rise again like the sun: gently, slowly, and then with splendour. You are valuable, you are loved, you are here. Face the day with your face towards the sun. Let it reflect off of you, let it warm your heart. Let it help grow the seeds that were planted deep in you in the beginning. Nourish them. Protect them. Feed them. Grow your hope. Grow your purpose. No matter what is happening to you. No matter what has come before, today is a new day. And new every morning is the Song of Love being sung over you.
Sometimes our dreams or plans blow away and scatter. Watching them go, especially before fruition, is how many felt this week when the intense windy snowstorm “attacked” and blew away the beautiful, colourful fall foliage. Not many complained about the cold or the snow; but the wind was upsetting. The reaction and results of the short-lived blast helped me comprehend what I’ve been feeling lately but couldn’t put into words or fully grasp. I’ve had to let go of some big dreams and lofty goals, not of my choosing or because I changed my mind, but because they were forced from my hand. My fist was pried open and I watched these ideals scatter and blow away. Like the storm this week, a blasting wind blew away some beautiful, colourful goals I had for myself. As the summer says goodbye I say farewell to these goals, without anger or suffering, because I realize now there was nothing of the Divine in my plans. I charged ahead. I wanted control. I thought I knew best. The “storm” blew these expectations away, stripped me bare like the trees’ branches. And stripped down, my life became peaceful and joyous and simple. And after all the turmoil of recent years, simple is welcome! My life is full of quiet mystery and love. I only suffer when chasing after things that aren’t meant for me. I am only angered when pushing myself too hard and being unable to keep up with others. But when I let these expectations go and ask for wisdom and leading, it comes. And with it joy and contentment and a new song. I will rest and recover and reflect through the dormant winter period and when my body is ready, turn over a new leaf. I can begin again and so can you. You can start over. Even if it is the tenth or eleventh time. After all, we live in a cycle like the trees. Our leaves bud, bloom, thrive, change, then let go, only for the cycle to repeat. It’s not the end. It’s not sad. It’s really another time to begin. After you grieve a disappointment (either a loss, a relapse, a heartache) reflect, rest, and recover, you can start anew with purpose. And, like me, you may find your purpose is to do less and live more quietly and to go totally against the current trend of “busy” and “crazy.” Go deep down to the roots when making plans and goals, don’t seek ideals externally. We only suffer when we desire, especially desiring things not suited for us at this time.