IMPERFECT Lady

UBEEU

My granddaughter asked me, "Grandma what is an heirloom?"  We were going through some of her stuff and re-organizing her room.  Our day then was spent looking at all the stuff in our house, with new eyes. 

Heirloom - "a valuable object that has belonged to a family for several generations."

 

She wondered how things became heirlooms, and how others did not.  There are things she sees value in that would not be classified as an heirloom. 

 

The juxtaposition was not lost on me, how one week I am getting rid of family art and the next weekend looking at heirlooms.

 

Homes of couples, usually have two families blending together.  Our pasts flow with us into our present.

Each of us have values we want to pass on, and others we want to cast aside.

 

My focus in the past decade and a half has been to re-cast the pattern that is me.

To do my best not to pass on what was given to me.

My intentions were to create something of value to hand down.

The heirlooms I was most concerned were not things.

I wanted to hand down family values.

Values with real value.

Love that holds truth, honesty, integrity, freedom, authenticity, courage...

Love that has boundaries and limits.

Love that honors who you are, what you feel, and will challenge beliefs that feel wrong.

Love that is deep and ever changing - while being the same in substance.

Love that will hold the difficult moments as well as the beautiful joys.

 

Love that allows each to be true to themselves.

To not have to wear a mask to fit in.

 

I believe the heirlooms will mean more, if they come from a person of substance. Someone who lived their life unapologetically, and remained true to themselves; always.

No matter what life gave them, they did what was true for them.

My heirloom is of emotional intelligence, to know who you are and be that.

Be that in all ways.

 

The saddest life to me, is one where you cannot be yourself.

We all know our own truths, they live within us.  The grandest life, is when you can live out loud.

May my legacy be "You be You" or as my license plates read "UBEEU".

 

 

When our hearts understand.

As I cleaned my living room in preparation for some new to us furniture; I was very cognizant of what I do have in my home. What I am able to not only hang on - but what I love and what brings me good energy.

This was a quick shot of my girls laughing together. I LOVE this picture. 

It is not so much the composition or the frame or the color etc - but the girls in the picture and the joy they have with each other. And, the free and easy connection I have with each of them. My heart is happy with this art.

And I have an artful basket of rocks.  Omars and Yooperlites - rocks my granddaughter and I have gathered as we walked along the shoreline.

 

So, I have come to the conclusion that we are connected not only to the art; but the story and memory and relationship we have with the artist behind the art.

 

I am not so much in my Art; but I am with my art.

I am connected to it.

We are not separated.

 

As I looked around my house, there is joy everywhere. And warm hearted connections to art and the artist behind the art. To gifts and the givers of the gifts.  

 

We travel along with our art. 

Our energy flows in and around what we give, what we do and into each relationship.

As Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor said, "You are responsible for the energy you bring in the room."

 

I would add, and responsible for what you bring into your home.

 

I love this latest lesson in art and what I choose to have in my home.

Removing the art that carries with it, bad energies will lighten my home in many ways.

And, make room for things that make my heart sing.

 

We let go - when our heart understands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keep or discard

I was in a discussion last week with a few artists, and we were talking about doing art; but not Art that would be for sale.

 

I always had this impression that if you did art - the next logical step was to sell Art.

Especially when you did fabulous art.

That doing art would lead to selling art and teaching art.

That the circle of art, when done well, would lead to selling art.

And, some may even believe you are not an artist, until you sell your art.

 

What never occurred to me was that many do art for personal reasons.

It isn't for others, it is something they choose, to add to their lives.

They do so for reasons we can't know.

Art is an additive to their lives.

It brings them something.

 

Art is a land without many rules.

How then did I place so many rules upon it?

 

Art began for me as therapy, and often still is.

 

The pull to the basement and fabric was like a drug.

A calm down drug.

An anti-anxiety drug.

The place where I found the essence of myself.

The lone self - that wasn't tied to anyone and our complicated relationships.

 

Art found Me.

 

The me I was before I joined others.

 

I can see how it would be easy to escape life by being immersed in Art.

And, not really deal  with the choices you have made or failed to make.

I can understand how you could live almost split lives.

Where one is happy and free in their art - and the other is trapped into a life out of control.

Unable or unwilling to course correct, when relationships are toxic.

 

Art for me walked with me as I made course corrections so that the self in Art, and the self in life, both had freedoms.  

My life became like my art, where I had choices.  Where, when with whom, and if I went and if I didn't go. What I said or what I didn't say.  Boundaries and choices created a life I wanted to be in - not one I want to escape.

 

Yesterday I looked at my brother's art and my father's.

Art's legacy is in our family.

It flows through generations.

Wood solidness carved.

Changed.

The simple, and the intricate.

 

It is funny, in a peculiar way, how wood carving was the modality used.

Taking something solid and changing it.

 

I was young when I got these carved hearts from my father.

I cherished them - at the time. A clue to my unawareness.

I think the hearts and spoons were the only gift I ever received from him.

 

They made it from the shelves and into a box.  Now what?  I don't know. 

 

These were the only two things I wanted from my parents and my childhood home.

The plates were my mothers.  

Are the best parts of them in their art and what they cherish.

Is that the best part of me; my Art???

Do we all put ourselves in our art?

More to explore with art and the artist, and what the things we chose to keep or discard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cleaning Out the Past

As I think of the de-cluttering I have to do in my basement, there are a few items that I struggle with. 

Art.

That was given to me.

By my estranged family.

 

I don't believe there is a way to separate the art from the artist.

It doesn't stand alone.

The art includes the artist.

 

And, can you separate the toxic from the person in art?

 

I am inclined to burn.

The art.

 

And let it go.

 

I also have albums and albums of pictures.

Siblings I haven't seen in so many years.

Memories now tainted.

Can you distill the good from the dysfunction.

The 'normal' from the abuse?

 

I shoved lots of things to the deep recesses of our storage area - not wanting to toss 

and not wanting to see them.  

 

These mementos are not like when you lose someone.

Where you hold on to things - to save the memories.

It is the opposite, or so it seems.

The things now hold the person.

The person you no longer want to be with;

to remember - to know.

 

I feel like a traitor thinking of burning old pictures and art.

An act of savagery against family.

Ripping and tearing it to shreds

And, yet abuse did that.

Not I

 

Abuse destroyed - what I now have left to destroy.

 

Perhaps it is the last vestiges of hope that there was a family there - and a good one.

The last hold out - will be gone.

 

It is not like getting rid of old junk, or things you won't use, or haven't used.

These items are different.

 

The good energy - it seems from them. The good from the bad.

Yet too many bad memories in the items, for me to hold on to them.

 

In the early days of my discovering my sexual abuse.

I often said, "for now".

Not saying forever.

 

I couldn't think of the long empty road of loss being endless.

It has been 16 years now.

 

It is time to let it all go.

 

Reality has changed the value of these treasures.

Just as abuse changed the integrity of our family.

The meaningful turned meaningless.

 

There is sadness in my heart, to know there is nothing there worth holding on to.

Nothing.

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." Janis Joplin

Cleaning out the past!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sisterhood of friends

I have been having cravings for deeper friendships - feeling like I was missing a piece of life - when I realized, what I am actually missing are friend dates.

Times where you can sit and just visit. Whether it is over a cup of tea, a meal or just visiting in person in a home. 

Shared close times with friends - where we could explore many different topics, share our lives and experiences, our dreams.  Getting to know each other in new ways. 

 

During the past many months, I have been able to meet with many outside. We have been able to go on adventures and be together; but there is something about sitting and just being and sharing our lives.

The luxury of time and sacredness of close being.

We can give the bullet points of our lives as we hike along or paddle etc -but we don't get down to the deeper levels of where our souls lie.

Levels where I long to be.

 

While life has slowed and spaces are wide open - but the virus has kept us cautious, apart and in the bullet points in many lives.

I feel we are getting close to the end game - in the last many miles of this marathon - and soon we will go back to living closer to each other.

AND, I will be retiring, and life will really slow down and open up - and I am so eager for friend dates.

In fact, I am going to start this friend dating soon, one on one outside - as the temps warm up.  

 

Friend dating - it is all part of the sisterhood of friends!

 

Courage of Love

As I was falling asleep last night, I thought of the hearts of so many strong women I know. The sheer strength of the love it holds; and more the heartache.

It is remarkable to me how we can walk and breathe and live all the while with a beating broken heart.

And, that beating broken hearts can continue to love and feel joy.

That they dare love, and live on.

 

The longer we live, the more chance there is for experiencing and witnessing the breaking hearts of our family and friends.

 

We fear a broken heart.

I sat with that awhile.

 

Is a broken heart part of the contract of love?

A loving heart becomes a heart of sorrow?

 

It seems more true the heart grows deeper and knows the preciousness of things.

A heart beats wisdom of the fleetingness of it all.

 

My heart broke and it loves in a braver way.

Perhaps it is stronger in its brokenness.

 

And, when you can survive a deep deep sorrow of a broken heart - you gain strength and even carelessness.

You care less about mundane and trivial things and more about what matters.

I am drawn to women who have suffered, survived and now thrive. Who dared to love and live with beating broken hearts. Who are resilient in life. Or perhaps the willingness to live a life of meaning, even with a beating broken heart.

Women whose lives are not defined by their losses; but rather are determined by their ability to live, love and dance with life. To live on.

To live on with colorful lives.

With new adventures.

 

May the newly broken hearted, breathe in hope by the examples of strong women they know.

Beating broken hearts are able to capture life again - as they love what they love.

Maybe the key to living life in all its forms, is to seek what you love.

What you love doing, who you love being with.

Love perhaps, is the only thing that will heal a beating broken heart.

Or make it a heart you can live with. 

The new heart is different than the loving heart without sorrow.

Yet it is a fuller heart; for it knows the costs.

To all the beating broken hearts - my heart is with yours.

We beat with the courage of love.

 

What didn't happen

"Therapy is about grief; the grief of what didn't happen." Edith Eger

I heard this on a podcast yesterday with Brene Brown and Edith.  

 

When you look at your traumas this way, and how you navigate through them, it makes more sense that we are grieving what didn't happen.

What didn't happen after.

What others didn't do.

What we won't be able to do.

There are huge volumes of loss that ripple away from the original trauma.

 

What didn't happen to me is a huge hole of sadness.

 

When you are in a family, there are many things you take for granted - all things that happen.

And, if you are in a caring and nurturing family, the things that do happen feel like love.

When your family is dysfunctional and toxic, you grieve what doesn't happen.

Even if you weren't aware of it consciously, there was an un-named sadness that was the backdrop of your childhood.

 

And, even always seeking and wanting more.

We just didn't know the more we sought, was grieving what didn't happen.

 

In seeing trauma and childhood wounds in the light of what didn't happen, opens up my understanding of the levels of grief I have been processing. It wasn't just the initial hurt - but all that echoed from there.

From what my father wasn't and who my mother wasn't and how my siblings didn't act - etc and then into what didn't happen for the past so many years.

All that I have missed.

A grief of what didn't happen.

 

 

 

 

Rethink.

Here is a link to a podcast I listened to with Adam Grant and his new book "Rethink" with Dax Shepard.

 

 

 

It is long, but interesting in how we as humanity engage with each other.

We all need to take a moment to consider just how much we know.

And, how much we don't know.

Imagine how much of life there is still to explore and learn about.

And, can anyone truly know it all.

Even when they act like they do.

 

He suggested that those on either ends of the spectrum of extremism know less - not more.  Which is what most of us know intuitively as we watch their lives play out.

 

Each of us act out our thoughts and even intelligence.

We are fond of saying "Who in their right mind would do such and such."

Believing that others see life through the same experiences as we do.

They don't.

We are all indoctrinated into life by our parents and what they believe and what their religion is - by where we live, what is the color our skin, male or female, and what social economic system we live in. And, there is more that teaches us subliminally by how others act in our circles.

There is a lot that was programmed into us without a thought.

I would love for all of us to be willing to Rethink.

 

I have been shown over the past many years how wrong I was. 

How wrong the messages I received growing up were wrong.

How wrong I saw the world, and others in it.

 

There is much we can all learn, if we Rethink.

 

Our History

One little choice can change your world, who you are, what you stand for, and the path you take.

One little liberty of refusing to wear a mask - has a snowball affect.

I wonder how many really looked at the outcome of not wearing a mask. Not the daily view; but the one that led to the Capital building.

 

If you stand up for your liberties by breaking the rules, in order to keep standing, do you have to keep breaking the rules?

 

When does it stop?

 

I am in shock and awe of the First Apostolic Lutheran church members and how many have take this route.

How being lawless and supporting those who are, is now a good thing. 

A patriot thing.

An American thing.

My head hurts trying to make sense of the senseless 

I just can't figure out their choice making, or the things they rally for, or against.

 

Yet, mostly, I am affirmed.

My experience with some folks within the church(es) has been one of sheer confusion.  And, maybe it was my naive or innocence in who I thought they were, compared to who they really are.

 

Just as it seems like a no-brainer to wear a mask and help reduce the spread of the virus and help business stay open, they go on the opposite end; assuring longer closures and more spreading.

They speak of their liberties - like they have full power of their lives, their bodies and minds. When in fact, the mask wearing was the least among all the liberties they had to lose.

It is to be standing naked and appalled being asked to take off your hat.

 

It is hard to see where their minds are and what causes them to act the way they act. Hard to understand the choices they make given the options available.  Whether to align with the laws or go against them.

 

When I first discovered my sexual abuse, I discovered church members knew and did nothing. No thing.

The very thing you think they would be up in arms about, they sat silently and often worked to keep it quiet.

 

So, in our minds, we believe that "good" christians will act this way and be on the side of the law.

When in fact, the opposite is more true.

Some will dispute this; but we are seeing actions that are showing us who they are.

As Dr. Maya Angelou says, "People show you who they are; believe them the first time."

 

I did.

I am not so in shock of how they are acting; maybe more in shock of the public displays.

The boldness and arrogance in which they are going against the rules and laws.

What appears to be anithkical to their religion perhaps is actually the core of who they are.

 

What is the character of their religion, IF it is okay with rule breaking, or turning a blind eye to the crimes against children?

A friend suggested that they confuse "leader" with abuser.

That seems right. That they can't tell the difference from an abuser to a leader Or that their leaders are abusers. So, to them an abusive leader is a leader.

And, their choice making reflects their confusions.

 

Again, I am certain there will be many who will dispute this and tell me they know exactly what they are doing and what they are standing for.  That they are being patriotic and stand up for the liberties of all.

 

There is a sleight of hands in all of this. A place where it switches from standing for liberties and breaking the laws.

A place where the knifes edge changes the side you are standing on.

The place where you slip from a law a biding citizens to a law breaker.

I have to wonder how many folks who break the law ever feel that they are in the wrong.

How many break laws every day, believing it is their right.

 

So for the many who feel I am in the wrong; perhaps you and I don't see eye to eye and for that I am grateful for.

I used to see the world with your mind.

This may seem very confusing and the ramblings of a mad woman, who is mixing my experience with the church members and how they are acting in a pandemic. I had to write the things that hurt my head.

What hurt my head, and even my heart are members of a church acting so unkindly.

I am thankful I am no longer a member.

I am grateful that I made the choice to mask up, to follow the guidelines and to be on the side of history where I don't have to break laws to keep standing up for my choice.

And each time the question arises, when we step out in public, we make the same choice OR we can choose again.  

I also wonder where the other leaders of the church are, the ones who have to be sensing the demise of their reputation as church of morals and values. No one else is speaking up, but allowing the loud group to be their voice. Is it the voice they want to represent them?

How is that quote. "It isn't the actions of our enemies; but the silence of our friends."

It feels like many christian organizations or religions who are condoning the no masking, will all lose their morals and values with this pandemic. They will lose being the heart of our communities.  They are instead the ones who are rallying against the agencies who are striving to keep us all safe.

At the end of the day, we all are going to be seen by how we act.

You may act as a group, but we all choose alone.

And, our choices become part of our history.

 

Lot of Living to Do

In an exchange with a friend, I shared how there are still many times I have a lump in my throat and/or a feeling in my chest of sorrow.  The sadnesses of our lives don't just disappear; but the sounds of them grew fainter and then again come crashing in loud.

I just don't believe that life will always feel like love and joy - and peace I feel happens when we can carry all of our emotions with us and accept them as they appear.

There is a finesse in living with the pains of yesterdays.

I learned that I could juggle both - and it was best not to hold on to any feeling too tightly; but to keep flowing with what arises.

 

I process and shed many many tears on my mail route and it still offers me the space to breathe into the lumps and sorrows.

 

Just as the virus was the background to 2020 - so are our past pains.

Mixed into the memories and losses are todays sadness and missing - as well as the smiles some thoughts bring. Being open and present we can experience many emotions in one day.

We are not the emotions we feel.

We can honor them, acknowledge them, feel them and know this too shall pass.

 

One of the things that helped me to maintain a balance, was to balance life.

I allowed myself the minutes to be sad. Really Sad - and even really mad.

I then gave myself minutes and hours of creative space and active movements.

 

Even today, I know that who I am as a person is better when I have created, when I have been outside, and even when I take the time to be with me.  Breathing in and sitting with my truths.

 

I am grateful to feel the wholeness of being human - being fearless in feeling the deepest sorrows and then the brilliant feelings of love and joy.

Often we do not chose what arrives in our lives; but we do have the option in how we assimilate it into our worlds.

Again, being creative and resilient offers to us ways in which we can expand and grow into who we are.

I just wanted to share that a beautiful life holds all expressions.

No part of me is being rejected.

I am not ashamed.

In order to be who I am today, I had to go through all that I went through.

It is in the difficult times we find out who we are.

You can't become a badass without struggle.

 

Even a badass strides with lumps in their throats and sorrow in their chests.

And, they do it living life in ways that are beautiful.

Creating a strong inner knowing, it is survivable.

Thrivable.

 

And, I am extremely grateful for all the strong badass women who walk with me - while each carry their own lumps and chests full of sorrow.  We not only live - we live lives of adventure and growth. 

We are badasses inside and out!

Cheers to last year, and Welcome 2021

We have lots of living to do!