Thank You on Dust Bunny Haven

Change

Thu, 07 Oct 2010 11:08:02 -0800

Change is notoriously difficult for me and always has been. My mother enjoys entertaining friends and party guests with stories about my struggles with change: how upset I was when my little brother was born, how I cried at the end of Kindergarten. The fact is, I cried at the end of pretty much every stage of my life. I was happy to finish High School but it didn’t keep me from crumbling into a weepy mass of misery when I couldn’t find my family in the crowd (fortunately a compassionate friend was there to calm me down). At the end of College, there was nothing I wanted more than to get out of that place and never go back. Yet, one of the only pictures I have of that day is me in my suit and tie, standing in front of a window, looking like a lost and frightened child, the rain-washed light removing the little color left in my face. Even one of the best days of my life so far, my wedding day, was preceded by several weeks of melt-downs and lost appetite.

So today, I want to take a big step, and talk about how I appreciate change. Unlike my other posts, this is less of a “I love that you are part of my world” sort of Thank You and more of a “I will learn to love that you are a part of my world, because I will be happier once I embrace you” sort of Thank You. And this post is itself part of the learning process, which I acknowledge would only be possible because of the recipient of this Thank You. How’s that for making a full circle?

Resentful as I’ve always been of change, I’ve also always been an advocate, a true believer. Sort of like those people who believe in aliens, search for aliens, but are constantly terrified of being abducted. I mean, I majored in Psychology, with the full intention of eventually going on to graduate school. How can you have more faith in change than that?

It’s October now, and I wrote the above paragraphs in early July, as if some little part of me already suspected what I would shortly discover. My life is about to change forever. My identity will never be as it was on the day that I wrote my introduction to Change. Also, as seems appropriate for this topic, the point of this entry is changing from a thank you, to an announcement. An announcement that I will drop into the abyss that is the internet, to rattle around down there and probably never be heard from again.

I am going to be a mother.

Chores

Tue, 15 Jun 2010 16:38:49 -0800

Yesterday was full of stress, sadness, and fear. The fact of the matter is that almost everything in my life, and the life of those I love, is up in the air right now. While the view from up here is lovely, full of excitement and possibility, how can I enjoy the view without also recognizing that, with the slightest of breezes, my entire future could go crashing to the ground, leaving me with a devastating mess to somehow arrange into a functional life? Most of the time I successfully convince myself that imagining this happening is almost as bad as wishing it would, and I can spend another day breathing, hoping, praying and trusting that everything will work out (hopefully sooner rather than later for our finance’s sake). But yesterday this didn’t work. Email after email the bad news poured in, and after maneuvering through a tearful phone call from a kind person struggling to do good in an often selfish world, I wanted nothing more than to run out to the beach and bury myself in the sand for good.

How do you rid yourself of legitimate stress? This was the major topic of conversation while my friend and I worked out at the gym today. We hoped the exercise would cure the symptoms, but it is not an answer to the question. Even after cardio and weight lifting has eliminated the nervous energy, the concern remains.

It wasn’t until I ran out of energy and gave up trying to solve the problem that it happened. I was standing in front of a sink stuffed with dirty dishes, trying to make some little improvement to my neglected house, when wiser, stronger, quieter, calmer Lela was finally given the opportunity to poke her head out through the tangled mess of active consciousness and whisper to me that everything will be ok.

I have recognized and struggled my whole life with my need to be prepared for any possible scenario, fix all problems (ideally before they happen), and be in complete control of my future. Seeing as none of this is possible, my frantic scrambling to achieve success has had huge effects on my health and happiness. After years of working on this problem, I’ve mostly come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to do these things. It’s even occurred to me that perhaps it is this unpredictability and lack of control that makes life worthwhile. However, like so many things in life, it’s an ongoing process, riddled with success, failure, distraction, questions, and uncertainty. And unexpectedly, I’ve found that the person who most often helps me stay on the correct path and make the best decision is myself.

To be more accurate, it’s that quiet little voice inside my mind that only comments when the stupid, bumbling, rest-of-my-brain decides to take a coffee break. Or, now that I think about it, I suppose the voice could be talking more often, but my self-centered consciousness usually drowns it out. In any case, I only hear that wise, surprisingly mature part of myself “speak” when I let go of the stress, planning, distractions, and chatter that usually clutters up my mind. The rub is, this roar of “everyday” thinking gets especially loud when I need that little voice the most- when things are not going well, when I am worried, scared, sad, or depressed, and need guidance.

I know that many people use meditation to dial up that voice for a quick chat. I have never learned to meditate. I wish I could, but so far I don’t have the discipline to force myself to practice. However, over the years I have learned that tedious, mindless tasks can be used for exactly that purpose- mindlessness. There’s nothing like a little bit of grocery shopping, dish washing, clothes folding or shelf dusting to put my mind to sleep for a few hours. And once the mind’s asleep, that little voice can stretch, look around, reflect, and offer me the words of wisdom that I needed to hear. This doesn’t mean I get a lot of direct answer from this voice. How helpful are “answers” when taken out of the context of school and work? Like so many wise people we meet throughout our lives, this internal voice usually offers observations that I will realized I already knew, but didn’t truly understand before. I always return from our conversations feeling uplifted, confident, loved, deeply grateful. In those moments I know I am part of something larger than myself.

Today I was scrubbing a pot caked with burned stew, and suddenly I heard “Lela, this is your life right now. This is not your life forever. Your life, like all lives, will be filled with moments of all kinds: joy, pain, frustration, peace, resolution, confusion, fear, love. Some will be of your choosing, and some will be out of your control. Keep this in mind before allowing one moment, in a life that will be full of moment, destroy your hope, your trust, and your perspective.” It might sound silly that I found this helpful, but think about it, how often do we forget that where we are right now is not where we will always be, especially when things are bad? Taking care of present business is important, allow it to cloud your entire vision of your life is unwise. And to think I wouldn’t have had any of that valuable insight had I not finally decided it was time to tackle my messy house!

Thank you, dirty dishes. Apparently you can bring as much order and peace to my life as when you’re clean.

Opportunity

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 12:20:56 -0800

I haven’t written in awhile. This is for many reasons. The best reason is that my computer broke, and, not to be outdone by a mere laptop, Ben’s computer followed suit. Unfortunately, this is still not a particularly good reason, because we replaced these computers with a sparkly new, dazzlingly beautiful Mac several weeks ago and yet, I have still not written. What I have been doing is: taking sewing classes, volunteering for various wonderful organizations, making new friends, getting up early, working out, spending time with loved ones, creating new recipes, recording songs online, and numerous other soul enriching activities. What I have discovered: Opportunity is not the fickle, random creature it’s often made out to be.

As I child, I heard many aphorisms about opportunity. The message of most of these was that opportunity is constantly presenting itself and it’s our choice whether we pursue it or ignore it. Because I was young, I misinterpreted the message for several years. I spent a lot of time trying to recognize these opportunities for what they were, so that when they came “knocking” I could take advantage. I would patiently sat, quietly listening for when opportunities would stop by, give my life purpose, and send me on my way. After several years of this, I realized that all I’d gained from the experience was the ability to wait and an immense amount of frustration.

I began taking classes, exercising, blogging about gratitude, and volunteering in order to save my emotional health. However, within a matter of weeks, I found that I not only had an improved self image, but I was living a more fulfilling life and what’s more, I found myself bowled over with opportunities! It suddenly occurred to me that opportunity, like love, can rarely present itself to someone who spends their time in their Living Room watching T.V. How can opportunities know you’re here unless you’re out in the world, meeting people, exploring possibilities, learning more about who you are and what’s important to you?

I realize that perhaps this shouldn’t have been so much of a revelations. And yet, I think of the number of people I’ve known who desperately want to find someone to love, but who still spend all their free time at home, alone. We can know something in our logical minds, but that doesn’t mean that we truly understand it or know what to do about it.

Today I was presented with an opportunity to be involved in something I’ve been dreaming about for at least 10 years. I am incredibly grateful. I’m grateful to those who created the opportunity and directed me towards it. Also, I’m grateful that I have become a person who doesn’t wait for a subtle knock at the door, but rather steps up and says “Here I am.”

People who make eye contact

Fri, 19 Mar 2010 17:26:28 -0800

People who are not shy, and never have been, don’t seem to understand the affliction. I get the impression that many people blessed with a naturally outgoing personality think shy people are choosing to remain silent or making a choice to remain outside the group or deciding they’d rather not make any new friends. Of course there are many people for whom this is all true, but this is not because they are shy. Speaking as one who has been shy my entire life, I can attest to the fact that we the shy are not silent because we want to be, we are silent because usually we cannot think of a single thing to say. We don’t casually squeeze out way into groups of people talking because we can’t think of a single way to do so without looking awkward or worse, creepy. Usually those first two reasons are enough to ensure that we rarely are able to make new friends.

Because I’ve spent my whole life as the “quiet, shy girl with the long dark hair who sits in the corner of the classroom” and I realize that this has doubtlessly resulted in many lost opportunities, I’ve recently decided to take some offensive action against this burden of mine. So I’ve been offering my services as a volunteer whenever I see the opportunity.

Last night I had my first volunteer experience at 9:20 Special, the swing dance organization where Ben and I take classes. Like any shy person, I spent the whole day anxious about it, imagining myself standing behind the desk not knowing what to do, while all the other volunteers seamlessly work, converse, joke around, and pretend I’m not there. I’m happy to report that the actually experience couldn’t have been more different.

From the moment I showed up for my desk shift, I was being shown the ropes, and dozens of people were filing through the doors and marching up the stairs to buy tickets to the dance. I barely had enough time to think let alone worry about making conversation with anyone. However, once things calmed down and the woman who helps run the organization returned from an emergency clean-up on the dance floor, things had slowed down and some close friends of 9:20 had come to converse around the ticket desk. I was quietly easing into my role as background furniture when something began to happen that changed my perspective and made truly grateful to be a part of this wonderful organization.

There are many subtle, often unintentional ways the shy get sabotaged in public situations. Some people are so anxious that asking too many questions will keep them from being able to formulate any coherent sentences. As anyone can imagine, shutting a shy person out of a circle will usually ensure they won’t bother trying to join one again. And failing to make eye-contact, or even acknowledge the presence of a shy person when you are speaking to a group, will in many cases render them as “invisible” as you are implying they are.

On the contrary, do the opposite of this: ask a few, light easy questions; open up the circle to acknowledge and include someone; and make great eye contact even if you’re conversation doesn’t apply directly to them, and you could make a someone’s entire night. Had someone at 9:20 done just one of these things I would have felt grateful and comfortable. Instead, everyone at that table did all of them! People talked and I was included! People showed wedding invitations (two of the instructors just got engaged), they showed me too! People asked my name and verified the pronunciation! People were acknowledging that I was there and worth including in the conversation! It was completely amazing!

Ok, I think this post might now be verging dangerously close to the pathetic, so let me explain that I realize I do a lot of this to myself. Being shy in Middle School was so excruciating that I somehow managed to create a coping mechanism that, while it obviously doesn’t actually make me invisible, it makes me almost completely noticeable. I’ve watched people get kicked out of prohibited places while I’ve been standing right there next to them, in a bright red shirt, in broad daylight, unnoticed and chastised. I’m pretty lucky my husband even saw me let alone asked me out. On the bright side, I’m pretty good at hide’n’seek! In any case, if this post sounds whiny and extreme, I don’t mean it to. I rarely think anyone is ignoring me on purpose which is why I’ve started changing my behavior to make myself more visible. Still, it’s a long, tedious process changing a habit you’ve spent years perfecting. Additionally, it’s painful to be ignored, even if you know it’s unintentional, so experiencing such a warm, friendly environment in which I was welcome as a real human being complete with personality was a wonderfully validating experience.

I suppose this entry is mostly about how grateful I am for kindness of the awesome people at 9:20 Special, but more than that I am grateful for all people who behave in a way that makes everyone feel welcome and included.

ipod

Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:17:43 -0800

Since purchasing my ipod a little over a year ago, I have gradually become so accustomed to the warmth of the headset, and the wonderful cocoon of my own private soundtrack, that to leave the house without it now feels akin to leaving the house without my pants. In fact, as I walked down the street yesterday with nothing but a few dollars and my bus pass in my pocket, I felt so exposed that I kept having to look down to make sure that I was, in fact, fully clothed.

Dependency aside, I have come to appreciate my ipod for more reasons than just it’s ability to drown out the obnoxious, scratchy cellphone tunes teens love to blast on the muni (though wouldn’t this be reason enough?).

I like to keep my ipod on shuffle mode. Partly this is because I’m indecisive and the more albums I load into the system, the less I’m able to make a decision about which I want to hear. Truly, this is the American curse! But I also have a secret motive to keeping my music selections surprising and unexpected. You see, I am a big subscriber in the theory that the universe is constantly sending us messages. The problem with universe-sent messages is that they tend to be subtle, optional, and are seldom in our language. Rarely will you find a message in your inbox reading “So-in-so, you should should apply for ex-n-such job at this business. I have already taken the liberty of submitting your resume and drafting a cover letter. You should be hearing from them soon. Love, The Universe”. If only! Millions of people in thousands of cultures have crafted hundreds of thousands of ways to receive and understand messages from The Universe. But all of them have the same essential three components: a question, a method, and a person using their intuition to interpret the result. My version works as follows: When I get anxious or I’m unhappy, I go for a walk. Walking serves not only to release some of the physical tension of the stress experience, but it has always been a past time during which I am able to think more easily and with less distraction. As I think and walk I find myself zeroing in on certain problems, and wondering what needs to be done to solve them. More often than not, it is around this point that I will take a step back from my thought process to realize that my ipod is playing a song with suggestions for how I might deal with the current situation, or how I could change my perspective about it.

You can stop rolling your eyes. I realize this is a far cry from a true metaphysical experience. My point is not that my ipod is giving me a direct connection with some omniscient river of inspiration flowing through our universe. Rather, I’m expressing appreciation for a method I’ve discovered of accessing that part of mind that remains an elusive mystery, my intuition.

I’ve been struggling lately. Many people have been struggling lately. The economy doesn’t seem so much better than it was a few years ago. In fact, I had a job then, and only lost it once the economy experienced “an upturn”. I funded my college experience by working at a bookstore which qualified me for a customer service position at a publishing company. I’ve labeled myself as an ops branch office worker/retail employee and I’m baffled about how to break free of the mold in which I’ve imprisoned myself. Like many, I’m seeking inspiration and solutions anywhere I can find them and I have discovered that my limitations are often the product of my own self image. When I walk down the street, overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy and my ipod begins to play the opening chords of “Living Prayer”, I feel both chastised and hopeful. Perhaps, as many paranormal psychologists claim, this electronic device is serving as a communicator, connecting me with the infinite. Perhaps all the answers are here in an inaccessible part of my own mind. Perhaps this distinction doesn’t matter as long as this experience is giving me hope, inspirations and the strength determine and pursue my goals so I can lead a fulfilling life.

Thank you, ipod.

BART

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 14:22:48 -0800

BART is often responsible for my presence at gatherings of friends and family in the Bay Area, since I do not have a car. What many people don’t know, however, is that BART might be responsible for my entire existence. My maternal grandfather was an engineer and he relocated his family to the Bay Area from Maryland in the early seventies so that he could work on the construction of the BART system. It was here that my mother met my father, who had grown up in the East Bay. They eventually married and, a few years later, I was born. Because of this I have always felt a particular warmth towards the transit system, despite it’s many problems and it’s ever increasing price. The system may have sucked up more of my life than I care to consider, with all it’s delays, and the long waits for trains, but it’s also allowed me to spend time with friends and family, be present at various events and occasions, and saved me the cost, both financial and emotional, of having and maintaining a car in the city. For that I am grateful.For me personally, the BART system had the added benefit of providing me with a link to my past. Many times while staring out of the train window at the rolling hills of the East Bay, I think about my grandfather, and wonder if he ever considered how his work would effect his children, his grandchildren, and probably someday his great grandchildren. When I ride BART often a little part of me feels like I’m riding with my grandpa, and this makes me smile.

David Bowie

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 13:41:15 -0800

Monday morning I could not force myself to wake up. Sometimes my bed doesn’t seem so much like a flat surface as a huge, bowl of marshmallow fluff. I can spent hours trying to scrabble up the slippery sides, but I always ended up sliding back down into it’s soft, dark depths. I found myself unintentionally dozing several times, as well as day dreaming about canceling the plans I had made that day. Finally I decided my self-esteem was low enough without losing a battle to a bed, so I dragged myself up despite the protest of every part of my groggy body.

Resentfully, I went to the computer and looked up the information I would need for my quest of the day: I was seeking my sewing machine soul mate. That machine to which all other machine would pale in comparison. I called my mother, who was my partner in the quest, packed up my stuff, and put on my ipod in preparation for a long, tedious journey on public transit. I was still exhausted, still wishing I could reschedule, still longing to return to my soft, still-warm blankets and pillow, when the first few notes of Life on Mars began playing over my headphones. It was startlingly how instantly my mood changed as Bowie started to sing. I felt as refreshed and invigorated as if I’d just taken a cucumber-peppermint shower. While a second ago my head felt full of molasses and cricket chirps, it had now been replaced with sunlight and lemon-scented rain. I instantly felt happy, enthusiastic, and, of course, deeply grateful to David Bowie who has written some of the liveliest, catchiest, most wonderfully bizarre songs I have ever been lucky enough to enjoy.

Swap Meets

Sun, 07 Mar 2010 22:53:07 -0800

Today Ben and I went to a swap meet in Oakland. I’ve been to swap meets before, with their eclectic booths filled with half empty boxes of puppy pads, unidentifiable pieces of ancient technology, and gaudy, chunky jewelry that only a giant, 70 year old women would wear with any sort of sincerity. They are a fun, puzzling, sometimes fruitful, sometimes hilarious, and always interesting part of our culture. However, this particular place was an entirely new experience for me. You see, Ben had his bike stolen from in front of the library a few weeks ago, and a friend suggested that this would be a good place to look for it. He might as well have directed us to the Moss Eisley Cantina for how alien and vulnerable I felt upon arriving and seeing booth after booth of unquestionably stolen merchandise being unabashedly displayed at every turn by people whose lives I couldn’t possibly imagine. Men walked bikes down the aisles calling out “I’ve got a bike for sale here! Bike for sale!” One booth had an entire table covered in large, used, plasma screen T.V.s and another boasted a huge, mountainous landscape of expensive looking cellphones in conditions varying from new to barely recognizable. Many of the food carts did not have a single item for sale that I recognized. This surprised me because I love cultural foods, and I’m from the bay area, a giant, touristy place that’s always taken great pride in it’s multicultural heritage! It was scary; I was enchanted.

After searching table after table, truck after truck we finally decided that Ben’s bike was not at today’s market and decided to relocate to a place where we felt there was less risk of getting our pockets picked or our vital organs charred by under-the-table laser guns.

Still, I could not help but love our experience at the Oakland Swap Meet today, and I think Ben agreed. There’s nothing like a quick waltz with the sketchier side of society to renew your sense of excitement and adventure. Being able to do so in a large crowd on a bright, Sunday afternoon, rather than in a dark, smelly alley at 3:00am makes it all the better.

I don’t like that Swap Meets are often a favorite resource to thieves hoping to pawn stolen merchandise in a place where it can often not be traced to it’s original source. But still, I have to appreciate the invention of the Swap Meet. It has created a space for us to interact, to share our stories and our possessions, and to catch a momentary glimpse of our world through another’s eyes.

Thank you, Swap Meets, for adding color and interest to our culture.

Garlic

Sat, 06 Mar 2010 18:57:05 -0800

Ben and I just got home from Hawaii. Which may lead to you to ask “Why isn’t this post entitle ‘Hawaii’ ?!?!” To which I would respond that this is MY freakin’ journey, buddy, and if I’d rather be grateful for garlic that is my prerogative. If you don’t like it you don’t have to read it. Got it?

Now that we’ve got that straightened out, let me continue. In Hawaii we were listening to a radio talk show about a guy who wrote a book called Grow Your Own Drugs. After the obligatory jokes about how often that book is probably mistakenly purchased, we got back to listening to interview. James Wong’s book is full of recipes for natural remedies for everything from bug repellent to athlete’s foot. Almost all of his recipes use only herbs and essential oils and none of them have poisons or toxins in them. Towards the end of the interview, the question was asked “What is your favorite herb/natural remedy?” to which the author replied “Garlic”.

Although not exotic or rare, I can understand why someone would choose garlic as their favorite herb. I’m not a doctor or an herbalist, but I’ve read enough to know that garlic is good for all sorts of ailments. It’s an anti-fungal, it’s reputed to be amazing for the the immune system, and if you eat enough of it it’s supposed to keep mosquitoes (and most people) away. I even recently read that there have been studies recently that show that there’s a possibility that garlic could help with heart disease, high blood pressure and even cancer.

It thrills me to read about all the health benefits of garlic. Perhaps this is because it’s such a pleasure to eat and the thing I love best about garlic is it’s contributions to the culinary world. Ever since it “sprouted out of Satan’s left footstep as he departed from the Garden of Eden” garlic has been enriching our lives with it’s wide variety of flavors, from the spicey, pungent taste of raw garlic; to the complex, savory taste of sauteed garlic; to it’s sweet, almost candy-like taste when roasted. I love that I can always count on this beautiful, pearly bulb with it’s adorable, individually wrapped, little cloves to add flavor to almost any dish I make. When I cook, garlic will often be the primary spice that I use, if not the only spice.

I must say I’m not surprised about fantastic medicinal properties of garlic. This little hero of a plant has always had a special place in my heart. It brings back memories of sitting around the table with my family, enjoying a wonderful, home cooked meal. And, although I’m far from being a master chef, I can throw a little chopped garlic in with some olive oil and spinach and get a fragrant dish and looks and feels truly gourmet. Garlic is a health booster, a self-esteem booster in the kitchen, and I’m very grateful for it’s existence in my life.

New Journey

Sat, 06 Mar 2010 18:00:00 -0800

This blog came to be because I used to enjoy writing, and I had a lot to say, even if some of it wasn’t terribly interesting. I let this blog peter out because I felt it had served it’s purpose and my inspiration had moved in other directions. Now I’ve decided it must be revived to serve a new purpose. It’s not that I enjoy writing anymore, in fact, these days there’s very little that I enjoy, and this is the point. For unknown reasons, my world has darkened. This confuses me, because although I’ve seen others go through this, I’ve never had it happen to me. It’s a mysterious phenomenon to discover that nothing sounds fun anymore. It’s puzzling to notice that, though you used to fill your days with new, exciting things, you suddenly don’t even have the energy to get out of bed and get dressed. It’s like someone holding a big gray pillow over my mind, suffocating all the emotion and life out of my days. I’m finding myself frantically trying to find ways to distract myself from this mood, shake myself out of this state, but it doesn’t feel like something I can control. It feels like something is holding the exit shut.

Before I take the chemical approach to halting my downward spiral, I thought I’d try to break myself out of this funk in a natural, less invasive way. I’m working out, adjusting my eating habits, learning new things, and I’m starting a Gratitude Journal. Each entry will be about one thing for which I am grateful. In doing this I will be taking time every day to appreciate the wonderful things in my life. My constant need for material to write about will keep me constantly thinking about things for which to be grateful. In addition, this need will likely force me out of bed and into new situations, where I will meet people, and learn more about the world and myself. I thought this blog would be a perfect place to record this experience. Knowing my gratitude journal is public will make me more conscientious about keeping up with it. And perhaps, if I do a good job, it will provide encouragement to a few world weary, web-surfers that accidentally stumble onto it someday! If I don’t do a good job, at least I can still consider it a good use of time for this world weary web-surfer.

Here we go!