Beautiful Indecision

Our world is so full to overflowing with decisions and hurry and rush and must do's. We zip from here to there and back again, pausing from time to time only to realize that we don't have time at all. We must do this, have to do that, can't forget this and must remember that. Some days are so full that we can barely sit down, and even if we do, it's with only the thought of what we must get up to do, or should be doing....

Breathe....

Today I spent the better part of the day at the Atlantic Ocean, on a beach. I took a lot of pictures, but in between I did nothing. I stared at my feet as the salty water and sand washed over them. I laughed at the bustle of bodies moving this way and that on a crowded beach.
I watched a para sailor glide around. The seagulls hung in the breeze and zoomed over head. The tide came up, soaking the rock I was sitting on. The smell of salt water and sea weed permeated the air like febreeze caught in fabric. Some around me slept. Others played. Some strolled. One little girl lost her flip flop in the tide, and her Grandfather followed her around trying to find it.
It was beautiful. The sun soaking into my skin like a long awaited nectar. The breeze running it's fingers through my hair and whispering sweet secrets up and down my back.

Sometimes being indecisive is like sitting by the ocean.
Nothing to do and nowhere to go, yet fulfilling and full of life. My cup runneth over.
Bits and pieces of others lives tickled the edges of my awareness, but as they came, they went. No expectations, no plugging in. No need to fix or help beyond the pleasure of seeing a floating flip flop and dashing down the beach to a beaming Grandfather and a happy girl. "I told you someone would find it"...echoing as I walked away.

I don't have to always go. I don't have to always decide. Life will do that for me sometimes. In the meantime, while I'm dangling over the edge of what next...I can live. I can sit and build an inukshuk on a beach, kiss it's little rock head and whisper "I am here". Tomorrow will still come, decisions will still be made. I can wander along picking seashells for my daughter, smiling because I know she will love them. I can wrap my arms around myself and know that I am not alone in this great big world. Always there is an answer, and always I am perfectly fine. Every journey needs a time of settling, a time to let go and let be.

So this is where you can find me:
Sitting beneath the open wings of a flying gull;
Sun warming my ever browning skin. Knees pulled up and toes spread in the sand.
Cool wind and spray from the ocean tickling my arms.
I am looking out, thankful for each breath, and each moment left to be right here.
Being.
Beautiful Indecision.

Why...

Why do we hurt people? 

Most often by accident. We step on their toes or expose an old pain without even realizing it until it's too late. We strip them down and add to their wounds by touching a spot we didn't see there.

I have done this and had it done to me.

How do we fix it?

Sometimes we can't. All we can do is wait for them to heal and hope they will forgive us. Other times the act of realizing it and apologizing is enough. 

We are all so different in our similarities. Like mirrors that reflect the pain in eachother. We see the surface and nothing beyond. Sometimes our journey to understand what lies beneath takes a right turn at hurtsville and exits onto the misery expressway. 

I have a tendency to protect myself. I say it's okay when really it isn't. I say I'm fine when I'm dying inside. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. 

For me, the worst pain is exposing myself and saying what is true for me, and having that either cause pain for another or be dismissed. Either one is as horrific as plunging face first off a cliff...and that's what it feels like.

And yet...

I have learned that's the only way to live. I can do a lot of living without actually living at all. That's the easy way out. Been there, done that. 

But real living is seeing where my fears are and pushing past them. Recognizing where my scars hide and poking them. 

The hardest part for me will be to accept that sometimes I will hurt people along the way, without meaning to. I will have to learn to be okay with that. Sometimes I won't be able to do or say anything to fix it. I will have to learn to be okay with that. 

Because really, when it comes to people, helping or fixing or even just working together on anything for any reason at any time...if they are in a place where they aren't able or willing to do the same....well that's their journey. Accepting that is the only way to truly show you love them.

All the sorries in the world won't heal an oozing wound. That's what happens when you brush against a raw sore of another. 

Deep sigh.

The waterfalls are beautiful. They plunge unforgiveingly against the rocks below. Bit by bit eroding the resistance they meet. With unending determination, they force their will to end the pressure. 

This is my will, to live without regret. To love without remorse. To find a place within this world to call my home. To share the beauty I see with anyone willing to look. To reside within peace and dance within harmony. To not question my worth, for I may not be good enough for everyone, but I'm good enough for someone. To share this knowledge with my children, so they may see the exquisite flow of life and not lose hope as I did. To journey well...and journey long.

I'm sorry for the pain I have caused, do cause, and may cause in the future.

Namaste.

The Keeper of Secrets

 I am the keeper of secrets.
This is hard for some to believe, simply because a secret to them is something you only tell...a couple people...or only a few....sigh.
Granted, I have some secrets that are exactly that.
But that's not what I am talking about right now. What I am going to speak about is the secrets that are locked deep in my forever box. Some are my own, and others are ones that people have shared with a promise I NEVER break.

So what are these things? These horrible things, that you cannot bring yourself to talk about, or even acknowledge sometimes. The things you tell yourself, if they only knew....

Sometimes I say out loud, "I'm very serious, I know what I'm capable of" and I am being brutally honest. But it's easy for the other person to grin at you and dismiss it as bravado, because they don't know. Nor will they know, because I lived it, I did it, and I'm not talking.
Is it wrong to keep that part locked up? If you only knew....
Or rather, is it what makes us who we are? Is that secret the missing link to the enigma that we are?
Do I hold it back because of fear? Fear of judgement, fear of trust, fear of scorn? Or is it our own self we are afraid of?

Not long ago, I finally shared an extremely sensitive secret that I had locked up for years. I shared it with my most loved gay best friend. Shortly after, him being so open to my secret and making me feel no so bad about it, I actually found myself telling another friend. Why? How was I able to keep silent for YEARS, and in less than a month, share it with 2 people?? Then again after that, I tell my sister, then my cousin....what is wrong with me? Now, it's out there. I'm exposed, and if confronted with it, I will have to deal with it. So is that why it is easier to keep the secrets?

I have many. The one I have just spoken about is a biggie, but not even a tip on the ice burg. Maybe because I learned young to keep my mouth shut about certain things. I can talk all day long (sometimes) about absolutely nothing. And if you tell me something with a promise to not repeat, it goes in the vault with my own. Yet this brings me to my point....and I do actually have one....
After reading my cousins' blog about the silent epidemic (you should read it) I realized that am I not part of the problem? I am one to protect secrets at all costs. Most of the time, if I see that it is wrong, I will speak out. But not all the time, not by a long shot. My promise to keep my mouth shut, and unwillingness to be judge and jury over others over rides my ability to speak up every time. If you say it's a secret, I won't budge. Is that right?

How do I stop the cycle of abuse, empower women, march against sexual assault and domestic violence....if I won't even say a word? How do I find my own voice, and speak my own truth, if I refuse to allow the major events that shaped me be known?
This is a problem. A problem I have no idea how to remedy.

Maybe this is the first step. Maybe I don't have to say what those secrets are, or even hint at what they might be...but realize that I am a part of a problem that I no longer want to take part in.

I don't have the answer today, but I'm willing to look into it. I will continue to be the keeper of secrets, for my word is my bond. That is one of the qualities I am not ashamed of. But at the same time, maybe in finding my voice, I will be able to create a space of balance, where it's okay to speak out about abuse and find a way to help fix it.

Namaste

Where to begin

I am truly unexceptional, no more than or less than any one else. I live my life like so many, daily grinds that bring highs and lows. Most days I am happy, but this is a surface thing. It takes effort and years of practice to perfect the art of portraying a steady happiness. But when I crash, I crash hard.
The truth is, I am still becoming. I am a Pisces, and of the sort, constantly chasing my tail, seeking balance in a world that I perceive as cold and heartless. And yet, I see beauty all around me, and take the time to let it capture my breath.

A few years ago I was very ill. We could debate physical, mental or spiritual, discuss details and treatment and all that great stuff...but it's all just nonsense to me. I was ill, and whether I would have died because of it is moot, because I truly BELIEVED at that time that I would. And not in the "my heart is breaking I'm gonna die" sort of way. But the serious "write a will and prepare for" sort of way. So what was wrong? Everything!! My body was ejecting me, my mind was unhinged and I had zero connection to any sort of belief structure or purpose. I was broken and lost.
So self-help books, counselling, medical treatment, surgery, diet & lifestyle change, positive outlook, hope....and so much more, became the anchor I wedged myself to. But like so many, once my body and mind began to heal, I encountered a huge let-down. Like a sigh that builds up deep from within, the question "what now?" burst out over and over until I didn't even know why I was happy to be alive any more.

Began then the long struggle with anxiety and self-esteem. B.I. (before illness) I was a wicked good riot all wrapped up in confidence and vivacity. Laughter was my go-to and selfishness was a second skin. But rejection and sickness burned a hole in my confidence and becoming well took a toll on my ability to think of me and my kids first. Now, every problem started with how others will feel, take it, look at it...and ended with "well that's just selfish". Panic attacks and crippling anxieties made me feel foolish and useless, while weight gain made me feel ugly and sluggish. So what exactly did I get better for??

Then a couple years ago, my cousin-whom I had lost touch with over time-popped back in my life. Beyond the comfortable "hey I've missed ya's" we found a connection. She was going through school to become a life coach, yoga instructor, hypnotherapist person, and we had read many of the same books. I was beginning to practice yoga, and found many of our root beliefs were similar or the same. She began practicing on me for her homework...yet it opened up this whole new world of awareness to me. Because of her, and the work we did, my anxieties began to slip away...only one panic attack this week. Then only one this month, three months no attacks. I quickly was off my medication, losing weight, feeling energized and positive about life again and realizing that I'M NOT DEAD YET!!!!!

In the last couple years, I have found myself again. Older, wiser, quieter, more loving, accepting, patient...but definitely myself. This is a journey for me, with highs and lows that sometimes cycle as quickly as two or three a day...but regardless, I move forward. I don't panic as much, and my laughter is much more genuine and from the heart then it was a few years ago. I've been working at peeling off my masks, and becoming my authentic self at all times. Every day it is a little easier to speak my truths.

Certain events have shaped me, and I will never deny that. However, I am finding this place where it is okay to let them go with peace. I tell people I love them all the time, and that's huge for me. Because the truth is, loving people is scary. Telling them I love them is even scarier...because sometimes they don't love you back. Sometimes they leave you, hurt you, think less of you, trample you, scar you. Finding this place where I can accept that and be okay with that and still love them any way...well that's just a gigantic leap for me.

So back to the beginning....
I am truly unexceptional. But I'm the only me I have. I still get surprised or thrown off guard when I discover that someone talked about me, or found my life even remotely interesting. I giggle at the stories people have made up about me, they are impressive or tacky...never even close to who I am.
Who am I? The one only at the starting line. The one in the corner, happy to watch everyone else have fun. The cheering one, the backer. But I'm working on that...I figure since I've been able to be happy for everyone else, and love others so completely...maybe I can do that for me too. Who knows, I'm not quite dead yet.