Changing a Word Changes My Outlook

For a while I've been using "Love and Success" as one of my mantras, but, for me, it feels a little heavy. I don't know why. Maybe love for me has a dark side with often pain associated. Oh, I know we're supposed to love one another, and everything and all that, but love also has to do with relationships that are sometimes not so good. Sometimes those bad experiences can have lasting effects.

Hmmm, maybe the word "love" is connected to "supposed to." And it shouldn't. Can I explore this avenue without it dragging me into a hole.

Guess there's some old stuff lingering here ... but that's OK for the moment. I can let it go. And perhaps, for me, it's accepting that's how I feel and not trying to figure it out or feel guilty that I might offend anyone by saying this.

It's not that I don't love. I love lots ... maybe it's just the perceived attached strings that come with loving somebody. Maybe it's about a price I've stopped willing to pay due to “failed” past relationships.  Hmmm, interesting. The topic can go in so many directions. There are, after all, many forms of love. Anyway, moving on ...

So, in striving to live whole-heartedly, I realize I feel much better when I say, "Light and Love" or "Light and Success!" The word "Light" makes me feel lighter and brighter, and in these instances, the words are in caps because this light is a God-Light. It comes from the Universe, the Great Creator, Great Spirit, the Beloved. This Light is greater than any of us, yet it is also part of us, when we open up to acknowledge it. And in saying this, I realize that it is love.

Happiness and Living Wholeheartedly

No. 543. Dear Divine Presence, Thank you for showing me that the foundation of my happiness cannot be based on others. Others may or may not add to my happiness, but the FOUNDATION of my happiness must come from my own choice to live wholeheartedly and be the best ME that I can be! Love and Success, Sasha.

I’ve had a couple of recent conversations regarding the choice to go to a doctor or not. One had to do with friends trying to get me to go. The other had to do with someone upset because a family member wouldn’t go, and that if she lost this person, she would be devastated.

I have very strong issues about the medical profession; the basis of which is that it’s gone from a service to help to one of a money-making-big business. These are my beliefs and not everyone shares them. That’s OK. It’s about choice. I’m an older adult, so I’ve seen and experienced many things, and I’ve thoroughly thought this out. My choices are mine to make!

Unfortunately, my beliefs and choices sometimes get me into trouble with others who don’t share my point of view. Even though I am strongly on the side of avoiding doctors, I can also understand that other side. I’m certainly not going to tell them they are wrong for going to the doctor. It’s their choice. There are certainly times when everyone needs to get professional help. Maybe I’d have a different view were I much younger and didn’t know what I know now.

But it’s still about choice! However, some cannot fathom how I (and a few others) feel this way. They think we are selfish by not taking better care of ourselves; that we are selfish, because if something happened to us, what would it do to those who love us?

Well, what if we are making the right choice? For us? I believe it’s the right choice for me. That doesn’t mean I will never go to a doctor, just there’s got to be a real reason. (And I won’t go on as to my reasons because that’s not the point of this writing.)

I began thinking about the reactions of others and how I’m being told that my choices affect them and that I need to think about them, too. I thought about how their words make me feel. I am not faulting others their beliefs. I don’t have to agree. The choices they make for themselves are theirs to make.

So, how does this all fit into my living wholeheartedly? It’s me standing up for what I believe for myself. It’s about acceptance; accepting me for who I am. I’ve worked years discovering who I am and how I am. I learned years ago I can’t live a life as others would have me live! I have to be me, or I’d just soon not live. (I am NOT a martyr!)

This led me into more thinking what it means to live wholeheartedly and how happiness fits in with wholeheartedness. Yes, acceptance is important to me, along with a lot of things that everyone strives for. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me, but I expect to, at least, be respected and not looked down upon or treated as if there is something wrong with me (mental case, for sure).

I remembered being told years ago other people cannot make you happy; happiness comes from within. There is much truth in that. It is easy to rely on others to make me happy, then when they don’t live up to my expectations, there goes my happiness. Hey, here’s the lesson in my face.

Positivity takes work! Using others for happiness is taking the easy road – but then when the road washes out, I’m devastated. There’s no real easy street, so it’s up to me to build a solid foundation, an inner base, for my own happiness. That takes training and vigilance (every time I come across the word vigilance, I am reminded of the Harry Potter stories.)

I was asked the other day what would make me happy. Of course, there are the same things that everyone wishes for. However, I need to dig deep and think about this to come up with what is the solid happiness foundation of my soul.

The self-work goes forever on as I strive to live wholeheartedly. Today I feel I’ve reached a milestone.

Deep-Wreck Diving on the Inner Self

I am always working on myself in my quest to live whole-heartedly. That takes a lot of courage and even extends into my other work. Every time I work on a painting or do a writing and show it to others, it’s an act of bravery. It’s setting myself up for comments – sometimes negative, although for the most part, people are nice.

But I love what I do! It takes courage to put myself out there and not hide from people. What I do is MY way of paying it forward. If someone enjoys reading what I wrote or even gets inspiration of a little self-awareness, that is all for the good. If people enjoy my photos or paintings, then I am helping to spread beauty. Of course, if anyone buys a painting, I am so very grateful!

My inner work recently involves changing how I think. It’s important to think positively and stop any negative thinking. Yes, I will admit that I return to a topic and/or will repeat what I’ve said before. Repetition is a teaching tool. I often need to repeatedly remind myself of things, and sometimes I need to hear/read something more than once (or a dozen times, ha ha) before it totally sinks in.

I love treasure hunts and I'm finding more of that type of analogy in things I do. Writing a poem when the ending often surprises me by going in a direction I didn't expect. The self-work definitely is a treasure hunt. I search through the muck for the gold because too often the past has filled us with muck. On one hand, this way of thinking makes the self-work interesting and fun. It's also a treasure hunt when I do a painting because the journey to the finished piece throws out nuggets of learning.

And here's a continuation of that analogy: I'm re-reading some books on deep-wreck diving like to the Andrea Doria or Empress of Ireland. (Something I would NEVER do for real, but it’s so fascinating!) Deep-wreck diving is far more advanced and dangerous than just scuba diving. What the divers go through from breathing apparatus and air mixture; then slipping down over 200 feet into sometimes total darkness except for whatever type of light they can carry; of not being able to see more than a few feet in front of them; of getting inside the wreck with jagged pieces of metal and dangling cables and wires that can ensnare them; to any movement (including their air bubbles) dislodging tons of silt to cover them making even less visibility.

Often the wreck settles on the bottom at angles, so ceilings are walls and floors might be ceilings or decks have collapsed onto others creating impossible obstacles. There’s the possibility of finding human bones and realizing that these wrecks are often graveyards. Then there are the dangers of the air mixtures which can cause narcosis or oxygen toxicity. Excitement and fear exacerbate the problems by causing the diver to breathe harder which depletes the air supply quicker. A diver can get lost penetrating the depths of wreck and never find a way out.

Then the diver sees a glint of something shiny, reaches in the muck, and pulls out a brass bell or a gold-rimmed piece of china ...

Doing inner self-work can be similar to deep-wreck diving with that deep, inner self being the wreck. How many years has the wreck been down there? How many decades of silt has accumulated and what kinds of things are growing on it? What kind of bodies are buried there. What obstacles are there to get around, get caught on?

It’s an emotional dive, for sure. For some, it’s a simple exercise in exploration. For others, it’s the opening of a whole new world. Sometimes a stirred-up memory can be like sharp, jagged metal ripping a hole in the skin. Other times, as the darkness presses in, claustrophobia sets off intense fear. What about the monster hiding around the corner? Is it that one that hunted you as a kid?

My favorite poet is David Whyte. He likened inner work as going down into the well and digging through the muck. (Your own personal well inside you.) That's been my favorite analogy for years because it IS like going way down into my inner well, deep within my abdomen which can feel like a bottomless pit at times. And now with this deep-wreck diving analogy, I can see myself swimming down dark corridors filled with dangerous obstacles and sometimes feeling I'm never going to get out and I'm going to drown in my own stuff.

But then my hand reaches into the gooey silt and I pull out treasure! That makes it all worthwhile. I’ve gained a better understanding of myself. I’ve learned. Another step in the journey to whole-heartedness.

As with deep-wreck diving and doing inner work, there are men and women willing to take those risks. WE take those risks whenever we go down (or back to our younger years).

Handling Multiple Projects

Once more I was stressing over all the projects that are in process. There are so many I feel I’ll never get any of them done … and sometimes I let those worries spiral downward. I keep thinking how I have so much to do … over-thinking instead of doing. I let myself get depressed over it and end up not working on any of the projects.

Yesterday the writing muse was calling me. I have three books in the works and I haven’t worked on any of them in a long time. But if I work on the books, how will I find time to paint? And if I paint or write, how can I get the outside garden/house projects finished? Oh, the dilemma.

It’s important to reel in those downward spirals and remember my journey to live whole-heartedly. I realized: Instead of stressing about all the unfinished projects, choose ONE to focus on at the moment! It doesn’t mean I have to finish it in that one time-frame. Working on it will get me closer to getting it done. That one step closer is an accomplishment! Those single steps, one at a time, will eventually get me to the goal.

"The Hill" Pastel on BF Rives paper
I'm debating whether to call this finished.

I also must celebrate each of those little steps! Even if I just paint a few leaves on a tree or add another cloud to the sky. Even if I only write one paragraph. Even if I only take time to deadhead the petunias. Each small step needs to be acknowledged and celebrated to fuel the fire to continue.

And, I have to admit, it is easier to do more on a project today when I look back at what I accomplished on it yesterday. Today looking at that cloud I added to the painting gives me a new perspective. Re-reading the paragraph I wrote yesterday may give me the next direction to take the writing.

A new day, fresh eyes, and I’m ready to dive in on today’s chosen project.

Loss of a Friend

Today my heart mourns the loss of a friend. My heart struggles with the loss, almost to the point where I can’t take it. He was one of the nicest, kindest men I know.

My mind and heart are numb. I just want to sit, stare at a wall, and cry. But I do my laundry, read and send email, and pat the kitties. I think about projects needing to be done, and life, my life, goes on.

It’s funny because I can almost always talk about a myriad of emotional subjects, even death, but when someone close passes, I’m at a loss for words. My brain and heart empties and I am nothing in these moments. Maybe it’s my way of dealing with grief – by not being able to feel, although tears fall. After all, what can you say that hasn’t been said and that others are already saying.

I think about other losses: my mum – mum who was my rock – my aunt, my dad, others. I think about my own eventual passing. The loss, the emptiness, being alone – it all weighs heavy in this moment. I wonder who else will go before me.

Perhaps I’ll go out this week and purchase a new flower and plant it in his name.

Adapting to Life Changes and Embracing Living in the Moment

After over a month of depression, I am feeling much better. Every time I go through one of these cycles, some insight comes out of it; usually in the form of a poem. This time, there is no poem. Instead …

Yesterday I got up realizing my lesson for the day was “As much as I try to live in the moment, I get annoyed when my daily routines are interrupted.” Hmmm, what’s that say about routines and spontaneity? Me, who for many years claimed to practice spontaneity! Where did that go? What happened to living in the moment and enjoying the gift of life?

A few months back I had written: I don’t want to be so rigid in my routine that I can’t be flexible. But I continued to be frustrated when distractions interrupted my routines. I was mostly doing what I wanted to do, but the order in which I was doing my regular routine and the timing was off and that was driving me crazy. The big question is: Why let it upset me? What does it matter? And, who cares?

Today, in continuing the climb out of the black hole I let myself fall into the past couple month, I reach the rim and pull myself onto solid ground. I am determined to practice living in the moment and not be frustrated that my routine isn't exactly on schedule. Yes, I am older; my body aches and my brain too easily feels overwhelmed. I cannot do what I used to do in a timely manner (or some things not at all, ha ha).

That’s not an excuse to give up or not care. That means I have to figure out a way to do things MY way and in my own time; a way that works for me mentally and physically.

Others talk about doing things in “baby steps.” Maybe I could find different words or phrases to describe how I'm doing the work. I really don't want to say "baby steps" because I'm not a baby and I don't want to feel I'm babying myself. I'm just taking better care of myself physically and mentally. (That's important – care of the physical and the mental!) But I don't know what to call it yet.

Work the past couple of years has been done in shorter intervals over a longer time-period. I use the gardening time as a break from the “thinking” work of editing and writing. And a break doesn't necessarily mean doing nothing. It could be working on a different project to exercise other aspects of my being. For instance, after doing so much writing/editing work, get up from the chair and go outside to do a little physical gardening, or go in the studio and paint.

At first, I set specific time limits, but that added a pressure to either sticking to the time or feeling guilty if I cut it short or go over. (Going over meaning I short on the next project.) So, if I really want to practice being in the moment, that means listening to my body and mind. The key is doing so much and knowing when to back off and do something different. It means working until mind and body says rest, then taking a break and not feeling guilty. I do a little here, a little there, and eventually things get done. At this point in my life, it doesn’t matter if garden work isn’t fully done all in one day or if the painting gets finished today.

Maybe today I am only physically able to do 20 minutes in the garden, but tomorrow I might be out there an hour. When I'm standing at the easel and my legs and back start to ache, I can go sit at the computer and do some writing. It doesn't matter how much time I was there. And it’s not just the physical aspect, but if my mind starts getting frustrated, as when a tough piece of writing when the words won’t come or on a painting and I’m just not liking the results, that’s an indicator to do something else. 

Yes, listening to the self. After all, I live and work from home. Yes, there is a weekly deadline for the newspaper and I have an occasional deadline for an art show or an appointment, but the in-between times are very flexible. I can still do my morning routine, but it doesn't have to be exactly 1, 2, 3. Maybe today I did 1 and 3, then 2. Instead of having kitty play when Leo comes in for second breakfast, both kitties want catnip play after first breakfast.

A Beginning Discussion on Suicide

I’ve been having some conversations about suicide lately. There are lots of opinions and beliefs out there, but I see no real discussion. It’s a touchy subject and one most people don’t understand. And, of course, in the past, it wasn’t mentioned hardly at all. It wasn’t talked about because people believed it brought shame to families. It was whispered, rumored, but no one actually talked about it out loud. People even feared the word suicide.

Could it be the subject is too uncomfortable for people to talk about it? Unless it’s some celebrity, then it’s news. Some just brush it off by saying, “Why didn’t he seek help?” Others remark, “There are medications that would have helped her.” There’s the latest excuse, “It’s a mental health issue,” as if by blaming it on mental health makes those with “mental health issues” some kind of freak. Others will mention the misery it causes the family, especially if a note was not left leaving them wondering what went wrong and not knowing.

Whenever I hear of a suicide, my first thoughts are on the person. What made her feel there was no other way? What made him so unhappy he couldn’t deal with his life anymore? I want to know the story. I want to know why. Is suicide really more prevalent now or is it just we hear about it more. (I tend to think it’s the latter.)

What could have been done to help? Did she just need someone to talk to? Did he need someone to understand and accept him for who he was? Was she tired of being ridiculed and abused? Did he feel no one loved him?

As a person who has sometimes been on that edge, I understand. I understand how one can be so discouraged with life he can feel there’s no way out. I understand how someone can feel there is nothing left for her; there’s no reason for her to live. There is no purpose any more. Everything seems to go wrong. The frustration and grief with life is so overwhelming they can’t take it anymore. And the worst: Feeling no one understands, that no one will EVER understand what you are going through! That you are all alone in the world.

Sometimes I feel I’m walking a tightrope and one wrong comment or negative remark will throw me into the abyss from which I may never get out. We all go through hardships and challenges in life. When does it get to be too much? And all those well-meaning people willing to offer advice in those old clichés that can come off as sounding mean and uncaring to someone who’s depressed. Keep your chin up. Grow some spine. Get over it. Stop being so negative. You’re such an idiot. Oh, I have a whole list of those types of things. I bet you do, too.

Many of us grew up in a time where tough love was the way to encourage children to be strong. That works for some, but not all. Emotions aren’t always a comfortable subject. What parent wants to know their child is unhappy. What child wants to see mommy in tears or daddy in a rage. And what about peer pressure (which can happen at any age?) If you’re called a name often enough, how long before you believe you are what they call you? How many go through life trying to be what they feel others want them to be or expect of them instead of being the person they truly want to be?

Another point to consider is that people who are on that tightrope have to realize themselves how fragile they are and be willing to seek help. However, getting help isn’t easy. The cost of healthcare is out of control. What the medical profession puts people through does not help a person’s mental state of mind. Then there are those who might think they are not really “sick,” so why spend the money.

One of my big questions is: Is suicide really a mental health issue? And usually, when people make those comments they’re kind of saying it in a derogatory way, the way kids used to say years ago, “He’s a retard,” almost insinuating that people like that should be locked away and forgotten – let some “professional” deal with it. (I put professional in quotation marks as a sign of sarcasm.)

And, are medications the answer? I’ve heard many say, “Oh, I feel so much better since taking …,” and I’ve also heard the same comments from people who take other drugs. “It makes me happy.” I’ve always questioned why anyone needs to take drugs to be happy – and that could only be because I’ve never wanted to do that. As I’ve never wanted tobacco or alcohol in my system. (OK, I do have an occasional beer, glass of wine, or a rum drink.)

I’m not saying the medications are wrong, but with the number of people on the drugs … I can’t help but wonder what purpose (or whose) it’s really serving. Granted the people who are depressed are benefiting, but …

But then, there are people who really do have serious mental health problems. There are people who need serious medications, and again, sometimes getting help is near impossible. I once worked with a woman who was diagnosed as bi-polar. She struggled horribly because the medical profession could never get her drugs right. About a year later, she committed suicide because she couldn’t take it anymore.

I don’t know. I don’t have the answers, of course. Instead of medicating the problem, could we solve the issue or some of the issues? I just can’t help thinking that with dialogue, listening to people non-judgmentally and compassionately, and taking the time to talk before someone reaches that desperation point that it would help. I feel the same about this opioid epidemic. Instead of spending money on all these rehab places and trying to save people who might not want to be saved, how do we stop the problem before it begins?

This all said, I’m sure there has been all kinds of medical research. But that’s on a medical point of view. What about the every-day person? Those of us who dealing with every day life between self, family, and friends.

In my quest to live whole-heartedly, there are times when I struggle to balance disappointment and frustration with the beauty of life. I believe that kind conversation is a key.