There are many ways that I gain insight, some are as simple as noticing a spiderweb, some are as complicated as working through a problem with a friend or patient. Mostly, it happens when I’m talking to myself.

We all do it. Some do it out loud, some keep it silently cerebral, but there’s always some chatter going on. Well, not always. I have had moments of complete quiet- they never last too long- but still…. Anyway, I like to talk to myself, especially when I’m not stressed with worry or fear or anxiety, then it can be fun to throw out ideas and see how I like them. When I am stressed, my voice becomes unreasonable and strange, then it often takes a self-intervention to get me back on track- that’s why I’ve designed my day to hold at least three opportunities for those.

The first one is my walk/shower time. It’s usually when I’m always alone and can check in. I do this thing when the water hits my skin: “I’m clean, and this water is a gift.” Corny? Maybe, but it works for me.

The second is my meditation time in the afternoon- and always before a nap, if I have one (I lived in Italy for five years, and the native habit has sort of stuck with me). If I can calm down and check in with my breath, my first question is “How’s it going?” and then I meditate on my mantra: “nothing can go wrong”.

The third is when I get into bed or just before I get ready to sleep. I make a mental list of three things I’m grateful for that day (sometimes I write it down) mull things over a while and then I say, “Okay God, it’s your world, I’m going to bed.” (Pope John XXIII gets credit for the idea behind that one).

But there are those times when my talking to myself gets out of control with stress, worry, anxiety and fear, sometimes anger. It seems like my safeguards slip easily away and the stress trap is sprung. It seems. Because these daily routines create something- something that kicks in like an extra immune system sensing diphtheria. Organic and instinctual. And because I do these things, my response time is shorter, my time wallowing is lessened, and I’m less convinced I’m crazy for talking to myself. I have learned that when I’m feeling trapped to remember that I built the cage, and, like every architect, I know the secret strengths and weaknesses of my creation- I know how to get out. It just may take some time.

It just doesn’t take as long as it used to.

I had a beautiful experience on Sunday.

It was one of those lazy afternoons that I haven’t gotten to spend with someone else in quite a while. Ken had come over the day before and we’d spent some quality time together as well as with my sibs and their spouses during the Folk Festival. We had also gone to a drag show (Yes, Butte has them- outdoors, no less). The day was slow and peaceful. I was enjoying just having Ken around to talk to and give me a hand with a few things. We had just finished lunch and were laying on my bed thinking about a nap. It was raining, I had everything I thought I wanted- life couldn’t get any better.  Then my phone rang.

I looked at the caller ID- Pat Power! Should I take it? Should I call him back after our nap? Times with Ken are so precious because they’re so few…. What would I say? It had been many years since we’d spoken. Would I have to explain my life and circumstances (which can still be a lot of work sometimes)?  Would he be the same guy? Would he still accept me? My mind was racing.

Then I stopped. I took a breath. I knew this guy. I had trusted him completely at several key moments in my life. I answered.

I had a 45 minute-long conversation with my best friend from college that nearly brought me to tears several times- not because it was mushy, but because I forgot how simple it can all be, and how much I missed this man and his family. His oldest, my godson, is now 19!  (and the reason for our re-connection- he’s also on facebook and the spitting image of his father….). We reminisced, got caught up, laughed, remembered, and (for me) seemed to fall right back into something familiar and satisfying. I loved every minute of it. Ken laid right next to me and slept softly. I felt happy. My trust was not misplaced. My fears (as usual) were ridiculous, and life got better.

One of my teachers says “Just when you think life can’t get any better, it has to. It’s a Universal Law.”

The whole thing caused me to reflect on the people who’ve come into my life, some who have gone out again, and some who have come back. That’s the nature of friendship. People come and go. Pat and I have come back around. So have a few others in my life. In my quiet times, I have realized I missed certain people from my life, and I took the responsibility to reach out and find them. Some have stayed, some have kept minimal contact. I’ve also missed some who no longer want to be around. Sometimes I’ve received an explanation, sometimes I haven’t. I’ve realized that I have also moved in and out of other people’s lives- sometimes deliberately, sometimes just naturally and sometimes a little recklessly. It helps me to understand and judge more gently the actions of others when I’ve done it myself….

I’ve noticed that most of the pain in my relationships comes not from the people moving in or out, but in my fighting that movement. This person shouldn’t go- I need them! That person needs to go, they offended me- why are they sticking around? I’ve been guilty of holding on too tightly to what I think should be- instead of what is. That’s just a recipe for suffering.

I actually had this poster on my wall in junior high:

A deep blue sky with a few far-off clouds, and a seagull or tern flying poignantly across some wispy letters: “If you love something set it free. If it comes back to you it is yours, if it doesn’t it never was.”

If I had to design a poster that reflects my feelings about relationships at this stage of my life, I would keep the bird and the background, but the text would be:

“If you love something, don’t cage it in the first place.”

Who can tell me what thing will touch my heart?

The human heart loves to be touched

yet mine is often unmoved-

not of itself guarded,

-I can imagine it reaching-

but by anger

and resentment

and ignorance

and fear.

All mine.

D GS

I spent a fantastic weekend with my partner and a good friend roadtripping to Seattle- It was ostensibly for The Ken to run the RocknRoll 1/2 Marathon, but I also needed to have blood work done, pick up my meds, AND it was Pride week in Seattle. So much to accomplish and so many cool and remarkable things happened on the trip that I found myself wishing- mostly about writing.

“I wish I had a smartphone and could blog on the bus, or update my Facebook.” “I wish I could express exactly how I felt in the moment of seeing Ken’s face as he rounded the last bend to finish the race.” “I wish I had the nerve to describe in detail all the rotten emotions I feel when I see a bunch of carefree half (or 3/4) naked boys running around like life’s one big carefree frickin’ party.” “I wish I hadn’t run into that particular person at the Pride Festival.” “I wish I knew what to say when something goes wrong.” “I wish I had told my family and friends more often how important they are to me.” “I wish I was quicker with my words- that aging hadn’t slowed down my vocabulary.” “I wish I could make everything better all the time for everybody.” “I wish I wasn’t so bad at updating my blog.”

And so it goes.

I am actually quite happy in my life, and I don’t really spend that much time wishing for anything different, but last week, I did. After some thoughtful self-examination and a few walks with Curly, my spiritual director, I came to the conclusion that these wishes weren’t dissatisfaction, really. They were honest hopes and desires to more fully be me. They were conscious efforts to see and experience my life, my world and my people more honestly and accurately.
And it was also a great moral corrective to my sometimes gritty, sometimes cynical and often blunt assessment of reality.

It was a fantastic trip- exhausting, but fantastic. I saw people I loved; I was with Ken for 5 whole days at once (a record); I was useful; I was supportive; I had fun; I took care of myself and most of all, I questioned my perceptions. Not bad for a wisher.

My life is sort of built around simply being available- as a therapist, as a caregiver, as a medical experiment…. As a result, I have a lot of downtime. This provokes a lot of envy from my friends and acquaintances, but I have to say, it’s not all that. I spend a lot of time trying to keep occupied, but there are only so many times I can vacuum the living room and clean the toilets. I’m bound to stay in the house or very nearby because of my caregiving responsibilities, and that makes my life very challenging some days. For a person very used to being active, even hyperactive, who enjoyed travel and constant stimulus, it’s quite a change.

The funny thing about it all is that the adjustment that seems to help most is taking time to be less active.

Explanation:
I am often at my best when I’m busy- my synapses fire more efficiently, I have a certain endorphin-related good feeling about life and myself in general when I’m doing things I find worthwhile and fun. I can find the reverse happening when I’m not finding what I’m doing worthwhile or efficient or fun, which, in my current situation can happen fairly often. Because of some of the little people in my life, I’ve become aware of this great thing parents use for their kids called a “time out”. That’s where the kid gets to spend time thinking about his/her acting out behavior and gives the offending minor (and the parent) time to cool off. Although never having experienced the benefits of such a system in my own childhood, I’m a fan. Seems a much better way to live than frustrating corporal punishment that creates frustrations and resentments (on both sides) that, while ensuring my work as a therapist for years to come, seems a bit excessive.
Anyway, my time out works in the same way.

When I feel overwhelmed or cranky or whiny or frustrated, I go to my time out place, and I just sit, and breathe, and think about three great things in my life right now. It usually only takes a few minutes, and I feel more focused and clear and grateful and renewed.

Whoever popularized this whole time out concept for kids might make a fortune marketing it for adults….
Or, maybe, that’s me….

I’ve been listening to commentators talk about President Obama’s speech in Cairo this morning, and it seems to me there’s a problem.
None of them seem to be able to finesse the distinction of diplomacy and the rhetorical devices of openness with the swaggering tough-guy image the U.S. has across the world.
It’s almost like your Uncle Mike, you know, the Marine, the one that swears and spits and builds his own cars, suddenly wanted to dance for the Bolshoi. Very confusing.
But maybe it’s not Uncle Mike’s fault. Maybe it’s our fault for not getting to know him better. Maybe all those things can live together in the same person. And, if I believe, as I do, that people are constant surprises, my own flexibility makes or breaks my experience of others.
There’s an old saying from somewhere in my memory, perhaps Native American that says something like: The oak is mighty and strong, but the great wind that fells it does no harm to the willow, which knows how to bend.
It’s our perception of the rest of the world that must bend, and vice versa. I believe, as a nation, our perception of what constitutes strength must evolve from guns and clubs to intelligent conversation between adults- from force into true power.
The power that comes from knowing someone better.

One of the most touching and aggravating things I’ve read in months. I wanted to share it with as many people as possible. 

Thanks, Allison…

http://mamanongrata.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-will-i-dance-now.html 

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry

Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things” from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998. ( www.perseusbooks.com). All rights reserved.

Source: Collected Poems, 1957-1982 (1985)