I saw a rainbow. I decided to put my binoculars on it. As I focused, it disappeared. When I looked back out after ditching the binoculars, it appeared again. I tried that three or four times and each time I tried to focus in on the rainbow, it disappeared. Each time I allowed my vision to encompass the whole thing it reappeared. There’s a lesson in there for me somewhere.
As I stood overlooking the ocean, where the whales and turtles sometimes appear I heard someone say there’s nothing happening out there, and I thought to myself actually everything is happening out there. It’s just that we’re in a position where we can’t see it. There’s a lesson in there, also. School is never out if I am paying attention.
I was working recently with a mom who suggested her adult daughter was a “problem.” I shared that I believe such relationships work best if I regard myself as a guest in my adult children’s lives, rather than try to hold them hostage in mine. Mom disagreed, suggesting that her daughter “owed” her. Mom used words like respect and consideration, with which I couldn’t argue. Her definition of those words and the unidirectionality nature of them though differed with mine.
I’ve found that “unspoiled” beautiful places are often hard to get to and are even more often unexpected and wonderfully pleasant surprises. Aren’t the most precious and unique things exactly that, unexpectedly pleasant?
An overwhelming ask? They ask me what I am thinking. I ask them to listen without comment or correction. They agree. And they do, unless my thoughts happen to be about them. Maybe I am asking too much of a friend.
I was imagining what it must have been like for the first person who came across the truth that the sun stands still. That it doesn’t rise or set. Talk about being an outcast.
I have a rather unique way of working with people. When people experience it, they often ask, “What is this called, this thing we are doing?” I tell them, “It is practicing a way of learning to unconditionally love yourself (and others).”
I’ve heard that some who have come down with the new COVID variant say something like, “It is no worse than a bad cold.” I’m left wondering if there such a thing as a “good cold.” What about rating them on a 1-10 scale, (10 = baddest). I wonder if using a number on the “good-bad” scale might serve us better.
I used to give one of those numbers, (1-10), when people would ask me how I was doing. The look on their face told me that I was giving them way too much information. They were just trying to say “Hello” and expecting me to return the greeting. “I’m doing well, and you?”
During a recent major surgery event, I found the most comforting conversations I had with well-wishers were our recollection of special times shared.
A couple of things that I would pass on to those of you who someday might experience hip replacement surgery. There is nothing wrong with you or the surgery if about twelve hours after surgery, your quadricep convulses into one of the most painful cramps you have ever experienced. It will last for about 15 seconds, and pause for another 15, and repeat itself over and over and over again. When I asked my surgeon about it, he said, “What did you expect? We literally pulled your quadricep apart; think pulled muscle.” When I asked him why he didn’t tell me that might happen, he said “It doesn’t happen to everyone.” So, I will speak on his behalf to all of you, don’t be shocked or surprised if it happens, and be comforted by the words, “It doesn’t happen to everyone.”
Another thing I found out that is pretty normal is that the one remaining original old hip, isn’t too happy about the new kid on the block. They call it “adaptation.” They won’t necessarily tell you that might happen either. When I mentioned this new pain (that often is as bad as the old pain) to a friend, he said, “Oh, yes, I had that too. I forgot to mention it.”
I can’t help but wonder whether or not the “reasons” that I, and others make up about why someone would take their own life, isn’t a statement of why I might do the same.
A friend said, “I lost myself, and found her.” My first thought was, we are constantly losing ourselves to make room for the latest rendition of ourselves aren’t we?”
I love a quote attributed to Will Rogers. “Live your life so that when you lose it you are ahead.”
Drinking and driving on New Year’s morning had a new meaning for me, when I spilled the majority of my coffee on my pants, while driving. The consequences, though not deadly, were immediate, and painful.
I’m more and more struck these days by the dominance that my subconscious emotional self has over my intellect. “Don’t let it bother you,” a message from my conscious logical self, is totally dominated by my being. If only I could tell my emotions how to do their job. But they weren’t designed to listen. They were designed to report on what they have discovered they believe I need to know. Messengers. ”What if I just accepted that truth, and said “Thank you,” rather than trying to edit the message.
I was wondering this morning if the only time the body rests is in that brief moment between heartbeats and breaths.
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