My office held its traditional monthly birthday celebration this morning. My best friend made the cake – an intoxicating combination of chocolate, raspberry, and red wine.
I couldn’t contain myself. I blame it on being about two days from turning 50. So, THERE.
So, here’s my logo for the little thing* I’m doing for the next couple of weeks. It’s an experiment right now, so bear with me, please.
A month ago, I completed a “Life Design Catalyst” course. In short, it was a week’s worth of discussions, self-introspection, drawing, writing, and meditating on what it is that defines who we are and who we want to be. Identifying our purpose. It was time for me to jump into this, and I knew it the moment we started with the first exercise.
This training was primarily designed for people who work with students who are in the exploration phases of their college careers. But something told me I could find personal value in it. So there I sat, with a week of this stuff in front of me. For the most part, I detest group work, but this was different; I managed to find some people in the room who appeared equally as befuddled about their current lives as I was. They were there more for personal reasons. Naturally, I gravitated toward them. We formed a group and started talking and sharing our stories.
As I ended the week, I realized that many of the things we covered were things that would easily apply to those of us who are (ahem) well past the age of traditional college students. But regardless of our (ahem) ages, we may also find ourselves at a point of readiness for self “re-discovery”. Time to figure out what it is we want to do with our lives…from this point forward.
So, welcome to “Life. Repurposed.” I hope you’ll join me in the process of dusting off the layers of expectations that have defined us for most of our lives. We’ve been so many things for so many others for so long — isn’t it time that we gave ourselves a fresh coat of “purpose paint”? I know, I know. That’s a bit corny. But I that’s one thing I re-discovered about myself that week. I’ve always been a cornball deep down inside, and now, I realize that’s perfectly fine.
Our first project will be the “Kick-Ass Questions about Life”. Are you ready? Good! Well, roll up your sleeves, and let’s get started.
* It’s a course? Workshop? Gathering? Heck, I’m not quite sure yet. That’s what’s so cool about it!
If you’ve wondered where I’ve been of late, it’s not that I completely disappeared from the world of blogging, it’s that I’m working on a really cool project.
Check it out, won’t you please?
https://finding50project.wordpress.com/2016/03/23/making-donuts
Here’s a new project I’m starting up soon. It’s all about the stories of those of us who have already turned the corner at the half-century mark… and those of us who are almost there.
Wanna know more?
Want to share your story?
Check out my other blog: “Finding Fifty Project”.
Peace… and Happy Thanksgiving!
I could learn a lot from my dog… if I would only “sit” and “stay” in the moment.
After a year of trying to make it without anxiety issues, I found myself headed back to counseling this summer to try and get a handle on things. For those of you who struggle with it, you know that it can sometimes be debilitating — and for those of you who don’t, it can damn near ruin your whole day before it even gets started.
One of the many anxiety-related issues I discuss with the counselor is the one I have over our “new” dog, Sonny. He’s been with us for a little over six months now, and while there are some days where I’m very happy he’s here with us, there are others that are extremely difficult. In July 2013 – almost to the date — we lost our beloved Mick, a rescued corgi-husky mix, to lymphoma at the age of twelve. Watching him grow frail and worrying about his safety at every moment “amped” up my level of anxiety… until the night he looked me directly in the eyes and told me it was “time to go.”
For over a year after that night, we came home to a quiet house that had no furry carpets or dog kibble trailed through the kitchen but also found ourselves being able to pick up and go wherever we wanted to when we wanted to. My anxiety over worrying if I had done right by Mick lessened daily… until the day when my husband and the stepkids started talking about how much they wanted another dog.
Sonny Boy (named after Sonny Boy Williamson — we’re huge old school blues fans) came into our lives the week before Christmas 2014. Some friends of ours found him wandering through a local park. When no one claimed him, it was decided (by democratic vote… and I lost) that he would come live with us.
And so began my anxiety over whether I’d be able to take care of another four-legger… and over the inevitable moment when it would again be “time to go.”
One of the things the counselor suggested was that I get out and walk or at least do some kind of exercise to relieve my general anxiety. This summer, the kids are at their grandparents’, so responsibility for the morning walks falls on me. At first, I was terrified — wondering if we’d encounter a coyote or a snake or perhaps another dog who wasn’t very friendly. Or maybe he’d eat something that was poison. The walks weren’t relaxing at all. My chest was tight, I felt like my throat was closing up, and often, I wanted to cry.
But eventually, something began to change. I felt myself actually enjoying our morning time together — before the sun was fully over the treeline, watching him with nose to the ground, sniffing for the best spot to, ahem, well, you know. He was in the moment, and nothing could distract him.
The more I realized it, this damn dog GETS IT. He knows how to practice mindfulness.
I could learn a lot from him.
So, as I work through my inability to stop worrying about the future and stay in the moment, I leave you with these wise words of wisdom from my “other counselor.”
Always greet the morning, ready to “play ball.”
Sometimes you have to look at things from a different perspective.
It’s okay to sit and take it easy.
Stare down your fears. Eventually, they’ll scamper into the woods.
Every now and then… let it ALL hang out.
Soak in a good sunset on your front porch… sit, stay… and appreciate the moment.
Hi, all. I’m back from the depths (again).
This little fella has been giving me a hard time for the past month or so. Living in North Carolina during the spring sure is pretty, but it SUCKS for those of us with highly-reactive sinuses and lungs.
When I can’t type because I drip all over the keyboard, or the ink from my pen starts to mix with post nasal drip to create “art on paper,” I know I need to surrender for a while…
But this week, I loaded the “big guns” and am fighting back with more meds than I’d really like to have in my system, but hey – it’s starting to do the trick.
So, the oxygen level’s starting to climb, the snot’s less-snotty, and the drips are less-drippy. And I’m feeling like writing again. Yay!
So, please stay tuned for some interesting stories.
There’s the one about a desk named Flossie…
and fishing in the cemetery pond.
See ya soon!
My good friend knows me all too well. We now have matching bracelets to wear at work. Awesome!
When I was young, I spent lots of time at Granny’s house. She was a career public school music teacher and, after retirement, taught voice and piano privately. Even had a “musical kindergarten” called Rhythm Band. In her small town, everyone knew her as the spunky, creative… and slightly nutty… lady who brought joy and beautiful music – and a bit of the unexpected – to nearly every holiday gathering in town.
Aside from Christmas… and Halloween… and Valentine’s Day… well, hell, she loved every holiday, who am I kidding? It seemed that July 4, 1976, was a challenge for her. She went nuts, decorating EVERYTHING in sight with red, white, and blue, and honing up on her piano versions of all things patriotic. It was insane but really amusing to watch.
Tonight, thumbing through a box of old photos, I came across one that truly represented just how geared up she was for our 200th birthday celebration. Okay, so let’s build a giant birthday cake out of boxes, wipe out the local dollar store of its miniature flags, stick the thing in the back yard, and get the oldest grandkid to dress up like Uncle Sam to pose for pictures.
Geez, the other two grandkids were BOYS, for crap’s sake! At least she didn’t make me wear a beard. Well, they were only about four and two at the time… they weren’t tall enough to peer over the top layer yet.
Yep, that’s me. Nine years old. The curse of being the oldest was always serving as “guinea pig” for photo shoots like this. I think she secretly enjoyed this – thank goodness she never showed it to any of my friends. Ugh.
Truth is, this year, I would have given my left, er, ovary, to have climbed up on that damn cake, listening to her direct with more finesse than a Hollywood producer, “Now, wave the flags and smile, Leigh,” as she snapped the photo. I would have sung every patriotic song I knew, if it would have meant a little more time with her.
Well, except for that awful “God Bless the USA” song. Forgive me — if you were subjected to that song as often as I was as a kid, you’d feel the same way. Seriously, you would. (Sorry, Granny.)
July 4, or any holiday for that matter, doesn’t quite have the same sparkle as it did when she was in charge of making them fabulous.
Okay, so those of you who know me well know that my “happy place” is sitting in Momma’s old wicker rocker. The corner of the front porch where I placed it is the perfect location to soak up all the action — a little bird watching, counting the number of neighbors who are (unlike me) taking their regular exercise walks, and watching the goofy kids see who can skateboard on our lovely pot-holed roads without killing themselves. Great fun to be had here.
But it’s also a place where I go to clear the old noggin’ of the day’s trials and tribulations long enough to focus on those things that really inspire me. Haven’t really talked about it much, but I’ve been taking the “You Are a Badass – 8 Weeks to Awesomeness Workshop” with author/coach Jen Sincero… and I’ll have to say, that damned thing has ROCKED (I know, I know… bad timing for a pun) MY WORLD in so many ways. When the course started, I worried that I had gotten myself involved in something for which I really wasn’t deserving. Our mission was to set… and ACHIEVE a goal in eight week’s time. I had no set plan of action to achieve this goal that had been crammed in the back of my cluttered little personal “file cabinet of dreams and wishes,” and listening to and reading the incredible progress and enthusiasm of the other participants, I was starting to sink down into my comfortable little closed-off box.
Lately, along with the terrible bouts of anxiety that seem to come out of nowhere, I’ve been having these unexplainable little “jolts” of ass-kickery (that’s what Jen calls them). You know, that gut message that comes so loudly that you turn your head to see if there was someone else in the room? This past week, the message was, “Let’s DO this sh*t, already!” It came loudly and clearly… and I had to listen.
I sat down at my awesome new laptop and let the thoughts flow. Sent a story off to a publisher-friend who has an author looking for story submissions about dealing with menopause. Since that stuff has been making a total MESS of my life of late, I thought this would be a good way to give it an old slap-in-the-face and show it who’s boss. The next day, I received an email that the author was really impressed with the story… chances are, it may included in her anthology!
Then, I really threw myself out there and sent a note to the local paper, asking how I could promote the group I was in the process of starting. I’m gonna save the rest of this story for another post. Let’s just say I’ll earn an “A+” in my Badass class! 🙂
Louise Hay says on one of her affirmation cards: “There are people looking for exactly what I have to offer, and we are being brought together on the checkerboard of life.”
Ain’t it the truth, Louise… ain’t it the truth?
A Collection of Thoughts .
—Life Through the Eyes of Storytellers—
The Life & Ramblings Of A Zillennial
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