If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It

I was sitting at my computer staring at the screen with tears running down my face. I was watching a young man with a sweet face as he said, seemingly staring right back at me through the magic of the Internet, "You're not broken. There is nothing to fix. You are whole and complete just the way you are. You are loved, every part of you, even the parts you're not proud of." I had to sit there for a long time after the Google Hangout was over to let those words sink in: "You're not broken. There is nothing to fix."

The young man in question is Spiritual Teacher Panache Desai, and if you haven't had an opportunity to see him on YouTube or OWN, listen to his live podcasts or read his book, Soul Signature, I highly recommend that you do all three. For all of the spiritual and transformational teachers and authors whose words I have studied, for some reason these particular words resonated deeply with me and I think I am pretty safe in saying that they would resonate with a great many other people as well. Women especially need to hear these words.

I can't speak for the younger generations coming up behind us, but for women our age the message of not being enough started when we were old enough to understand language and hasn't stopped since. It was always all about pleasing others, be it our parents, our teachers, our peers, our husbands, our bosses, our children, etc, etc, etc. It was about how we looked, what we wore, where we lived, what we drove, who we married (or didn't marry). If we fell short in any of these areas, there was something wrong with us. Somehow something inside was broken and if we wanted to be accepted, we had to find what it was and fix it.

Imagine how it would feel if we accepted ourselves just the way we were? Not only that, but how would our lives change if we decided that we didn't have to "be" or "do" anything? If we could just be ourselves and know that it was enough? For example, I love to write. Writing is my passion. However, I don't have to be Ernest Hemingway. I don't have to be Emily Dickinson. I don't even have to be Dr. Seuss. I just have to be me, Barb (aka Flower Bear), who loves to write because words have the power to change and heal people's lives. What if that was enough? What if living in a sweet little apartment out in the country with my two cats and all of nature as my neighbors were enough? What if learning new ways to cook tofu, re-learning how to bake, and mastering a new crochet pattern was enough? The sights and sounds of an ordinary life, and it's all perfectly okay.

Maybe what is okay for you is starting a new career, or traveling, or going back to school. It's all okay, anything and everything, because there is nothing to fix so that someone else will find you acceptable. You are perfect, whole and complete just as you are. So if it ain't broke, stop trying to fix it. Just love it. Enjoy it. Embrace it.

And so it is.

Knitting Memories

Yesterday was All Souls Day, or, as some call it, Day of the Dead. It is the day when it is said the veil between the worlds is the thinnest and we can connect with our loved ones that have made their transition. It got me to thinking about the different ways we connect with our loved ones throughout the year and how we comfort ourselves in their absence.

My Mom made her transition in 2002 and there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss her. There are so many things I never got a chance to ask her. By the time the questions presented themselves to me, she had started showing signs of dementia and severe depression. Then she was just gone. As I have gotten older, the answers to some of those questions have come to me in quiet moments when I reflect on her life and her challenging upbringing that made her who she was. I find that now, in my 60's, we are probably closer now than we were when she was physically here. When I want to spend some "quality time" with her now, I take out my knitting needles.

My Mom was an accomplished knitter and crocheter. I have never been able to even come close to her expertise with needles and hooks. My sisters and I, and our children, were the recipients of beautiful sweaters and baby blankets, and lovely crocheted lace table scarves. Some days when it is very quiet and I think back to those days, I can hear the sound of her needles clicking away while I was curled up in the big armchair with a book. I was never interested in learning these skills when I was younger, but motherhood brought out the desire to learn. 

Especially at this time of the year, when the weather turns cold and thoughts turn to scarves, hats, mittens and Christmas, my hands start itching for the feel of those needles in my hands. That is when I feel her presence very close to me. Sitting in my low armed rocker, needles moving in rhythmic time, I talk to her about my life as it is now, of the challenges of moving into my Third Age, or Wisdom Years. I tell her how I wish she were here to guide me through it because sometimes it's hard to be the one the others look to for answers to their problems when you don't know the answers to your own. I tell her that knowing I can do anything I want with the years ahead of me is often scary and exciting at the same time. I tell her I wish that she had had this freedom, this opportunity for self-creation in her own time and that it would have been sweet to be able to go through it with her. Most of all, I ask her to guide my hands, as well as my heart, as I weave this gift I am making for someone I love. All the time I am doing this, I am wearing an old sweater that was hers, a tweedy-looking thing that reminds me of the bible story of Joseph and his coat of many colors. Somehow wearing that sweater while my needles move feels as if she is there looking over my shoulder watching my stitches and whispering in my ear.

It doesn't matter how we remember our loved ones as long as we do. They are part and parcel of who we are and the legacy that is ours to continue to pass on. Perhaps you remember them when you are baking cookies, or hiking in the woods, or gardening.  Perhaps you see them in the faces of your children or your grandchildren. Perhaps you need to find that place where you can finally work out all of those unresolved issues and give them and yourselves peace. There will always be that place inside you where they live. For me that place is in my hands, knitting memories one loving stitch at a time.

And so it is.

And The Leaves Came Tumbling Down

Driving down the road near my home the other day, I heard someone in the car remark,
"look at how sad the trees look without their leaves." I was looking at the same view, but what I saw was something completely different. What I saw was a living thing that had let go of the dead things, the things that it no longer needed, and had settled in to focus on sustaining itself through the winter by pulling up from its roots what it needed to come back next spring reborn and renewed.

I often wonder if society looks at older people the way my friend looked at that tree. I suspect that many do. They see skin that has taken on wrinkles or grey hairs replacing the once colorful ones. They see lives that to them represent someone who is no longer useful or that no longer has anything to contribute .More often than not they look right past the person as if they were invisible.  If they only knew how wrong they were.

Like the trees, I like to think that as we move into our "Third Age" (a term I prefer to aging or senior), we shed what we no longer need or what is no longer important to us and dig down deep to find our nourishment and sustenance from those places within us, our spiritual centers and personal experiences, that flow up from our roots to blossom new and wonderful things in our lives. What are the things that sustain us through all of the storms of our lives? What experiences have shown us what to let go of and what is worth keeping?

For me it has meant letting go of people and places that robbed me of my energy, and beliefs that kept me from growing and blooming. Once they were gone, there was plenty of space available in my life for new ideas, new experiences and new people who let in the light of infinite possibilities. Sure, sometimes it was hard to let certain folks and beliefs go especially if they had been with me for a very long time. It was much like when I picked the last few veggies on the slowly dying plants in the garden and left the rest for the critters and to go back into the earth from whence it came. After the time for winter's sleep has come and gone, new and healthier plants will take their place and nourish me once more.

This morning I woke up to more trees that had shed their leaves after a very windy rain storm last night. I was sorry to see all those beautiful leaves go, but I thanked them for the gift of color they had given me and wished them a healthy, well earned sleep until next year when they came back brand new and ready to take on the world.

And so it is.

Waiting For The Other Shoe To Drop

I'm sure we can all think back and remember those words of wisdom that our mothers shared with us on a regular basis. I've found that many of them are universal, like "Money doesn't grow on trees," or, "A watched pot never boils," or my personal favorite, "Don't stand there with the refrigerator door open - penguins are forming a line."  There was one that my mother used, however, that always bothered me and, much to my surprise, the lesson that came with it has unknowingly stuck with me up to this day until recently.

Whenever something wonderful happened my mom would always caution us not to get too excited. She believed that a good thing was always followed by a bad thing that took the happiness out of the good thing. She said she was always, "waiting for the other shoe to drop." In essence, she was afraid to be happy because something always happened to take her happiness away. It wasn't until I was much older and came to know the story of her past and her upbringing that I understood why she felt that way. Unfortunately, by that time the belief behind that saying was deeply implanted in my psyche. Whenever someone wonderful happened, or I achieved a goal or dream, inwardly I would always be afraid to be happy because I was sure the happiness wouldn't last. It was as if happiness was for other people. I was one of the ones that was lucky to just get by .

The other day I was watching an episode of Oprah's Super Soul Sunday with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the  best seller Eat, Pray, Love. When Liz started talking about folks who were afraid to be happy, my inner radar beeped. It wasn't until that moment that I realized I was one of those people. Here I was sitting in my new place, surrounded by nature at her best and the peace and quiet I had craved, and I was complaining because I had a case of writer's block. I kept telling myself, "see, you complained for years that you wanted to move back home so you could write full time and now that you're here, you're still not happy." It hadn't occurred to me that I was in fact afraid to be happy. Now that I was finally "home," I was waiting for something bad to happen ... waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wow, what an eye opener.

I know that I will not be able to rid myself of this belief over night. After all, it has been  hiding in the back of my mind for 65 years. The good news is that now that I have found where it was hiding and have exposed it for the goblin that it is, I can work on embracing it and then letting it go. It won't be easy. It takes something called faith, in myself and in The Universe, but as they say in AA, admitting you have a problem is half the battle. Giving this goblin a name will enable me to finally stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Note to self: run through life barefoot like a child who still believes in happily ever after. Then you won't have any shoes to drop!

And so it is.

A Story About Tranformers and Transformation

This is my "almost 5 years old but still 4 for a few more days" (his own words) grandson Stanley Jr., affectionately known as Bubba.  Bubba's favorite things are robots, specifically Transformers. For anyone who has not been around children for a while, Transformers are Superhero robots who can transform themselves into some pretty nifty super vehicles like trucks, planes, helicopters and such. The leader of the good-guy Transformers , as opposed to the bad guy Transformers,  is called Optimus Prime. Good old Optimus can change himself into a huge, shiny, silver tanker truck. This is the gold standard of Transformers. So imagine my grandson's amazement when we were pulling out of the parking lot of the supermarket in my new home town when a big, shiny, silver tanker truck came zooming by.

Now his mother and I knew that this was just an ordinary milk tanker on its way to pick up milk from the local dairy farms. However, from the backseat came a loud gasp, followed by, "Grandma, look! It's Optimus Prime!" Not missing a beat, I replied, "Yep, it sure is." Bubba strained against his seat belt to watch his hero make a turn and head up the road to my place. "He's going up your road! Quick, follow him!" Like a good mother (and because we were headed that way anyway), my daughter swung out of the lot and took up the pursuit. Since my place is just before the crest of a hill, and our neighbors are dairy farmers who are currently building a huge, new dairy barn, I figured that was our hero's destination. Sure enough, as soon as it crested the hill, it disappeared into the farm's driveway to make a pickup. My grandson was beside himself. "Is that where he lives?" he asked. "You bet," I answered. "That's why they're building that big new barn. But it's a secret because he doesn't want the bad guys to know where it is." (This is called covering my butt in case he took it upon himself to walk up the hill for a visit). When we got out of the car, he just looked up the hill at the barn and then at me in awe. "Wow! Optimus Prime is my grandma's neighbor!" My own grandma status had just risen to the top of the meter.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could all transform ourselves into a sleek, shiny superhero so we could save the world and have that kind of effect on someone's life, especially if it's someone we love? Here's a little secret: the most powerful transformation we can make is to become the best version of who we really are and watch how it transforms those around us. Think back in your own lives to that one person, be it a parent, teacher, or friend, who lived a truly authentic life and what kind of effect that had on you.  We often forget that everything we do causes a ripple that spreads out and touches everyone around us just like a pebble tossed in a pool of water. When I am out in the garden tending to my plants, or working on a piece of writing, everyone around me sees a happy, contented, whole person. That is the very best version of myself that I could possibly share with those I love ... even if I do live next door to a superhero.

So take a few moments and think about how you can be a superhero to those around you by being the best version of you that you can be, and imagine what kinds of ripples you can send out. Somebody some day is going to thank you for it. Let Optimus Prime try and top that!

And so it is.

Sacred Spaces

Anyone who has ever moved to a new home will tell you that the first priorities are to get the kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms set up first. As long as you can eat, bathe and sleep, you can pretty much take your time unpacking the rest of your belongings. I would add another space to that list of priorities: your sacred space.

In the midst of all the turmoil and confusion while trying to find the coffee pot (definitely a priority), your toothbrush and your pillow, having a place where you can close yourself off from it all even for just a few minutes is essential in maintaining your sanity and recharging your inner battery for the long haul ahead ... especially if you find, like me, that even after all of the clutter clearing and purging you did before you moved, you still have way too much stuff and nowhere to put it!

I was lucky on my first day in my new digs. Even though my furniture wasn't coming until the next day, it was warm and sunny out and I was able to take advantage of this lovely spot outside whenever I felt as if I could not move one more muscle or make one more decision about where something should go. I just sat, let the swing and the breeze do its thing, and let Mother Nature nurture me for a while. I am so glad that I decided to do that. It made all of the difference between the experience being an exhausting and frustrating one, to being one filled with happiness and fulfillment. As long as I had my sacred space, all was well and everything else was just details.

You don't have to move to a new home to find your sacred space. Any space that you can make your own where you can sit, meditate, pray or just commune with nature is perfect. A place with a window is preferable for those days when it is too cold to go outside and sit but you still want to be able to feel the world outside. Mine looks out at trees and sky, and feels as cozy as a baby blanket or a fuzzy teddy.

Where is your sacred space? If you don't have one, make one. It will be the best move your ever made.

And so it is.

The Long And Winding Road

The boxes are packed. The walls are bare, only the shadows of pictures and paintings remain. Living off of microwave food and fresh fruit for three more days. October 1 begins a new month and a new chapter in my life. My long and winding road is bringing me back to where a new me was planted and blossomed.

Here at the age of 65 I am continually amazed when I look back at the journey I have been on and how I somehow arrived at my authentic self. When I think about some of the pivotal moments of my life, like two divorces, a college degree at 36 (with three kids a home and a job at the same time), two major out-of-state moves, an accident and a chance encounter with a teddy bear that led me to my true home, I stand in awe of the strength of the human spirit and the love of the Creator for its creations. If anyone had told me years ago that I had the power to create the life I wanted regardless of outside events, I would have said they were crazy... and yet, on some level, I always knew that there was something more and my curiosity refused to let go of that idea. An idea is a powerful thing. If you give it full rein, it can take you anywhere.

Is there some sadness connected with leaving where I am now? Sure there is. Regardless of the fact that from the moment I moved here I was already trying to plan my escape, my long and winding road had to make a stop here so I could learn what I had to learn and for that I am grateful. I will miss my little nature spot outside of my window. I will miss squirrels coming up and scratching on the window when they see me at the computer. I will miss the sparrows and finches that came to the feeder, the antics of Freddy the Blue Jay and the devotion of Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal for each other. As I take down the feeders and watch them as they search for what is no longer there, I tell them that there is a new feeder and a new home for them if they would only take that leap and look for it.

Never lose hope that your long and winding road will end up in a dead end, or go on aimlessly forever. It will take you where you need to go, teach you what you need to learn, and then it will take you home.

And so it it.

P.S. I will be offline for a while until my internet connection is hooked up. I will respond to your sweet comments as soon as I can!