* A post all about Rojo in honor of Drama Mama's birthday. Happy birthday, DM!


COUNT ON IT

I have no idea what the odds are of Pittsburgh beating Arizona tomorrow - heck, I'm just proud I even know who's PLAYING the darn game tomorrow, but I'll tell you this much: Steelers are takin' it, baby, takin' it all the way.

And that's straight from the mouth of Rojo - so get thee to Vegas and place your bets - they'll be safe.

Rojo is a fan of many teams, and Steelers is one, only because they've got Dennis Dixon, and "D.D." used to play for the Ducks. Say no more.

Please.

It's been nothing but non-stop DD talk for days around here.



"Mom, Fr. Bob said he wanted Arizona to win, but Arizona will not win, because Arizona does not have DD. I am going to wear my Duck shirt tomorrow and call DD on my banana phone, and remind him to win. I will remind DD to win the Super Bowl. I will tell him not to forget."

"Mom? Did you remember to buy bananas, because I will need a good one for calling DD on my banana phone during the game tomorrow, to remind him to win the Super Bowl."

"Mom, the game starts at 3:30, but the talking starts sooner. What time should I start calling DD on my banana phone to remind him to win the Super Bowl - 12:00?"

"Mom, I am probably not going to be able to have a bath on Sunday night because of the Super Bowl. I know it starts at 3:30, but it's a long game, Mom, and I will need to watch the whole thing because I need to be able to call DD on my banana phone and remind him to win the Super Bowl."

"Don't forget, Mom."

"Promise you won't forget."

I'd write more, but I'm off to the store to buy bananas.

BEST CLARIFIER I'VE EVER HEARD

"Compassion can be roughly defined in terms of a state of mind that is nonviolent and nonharming, or nonaggressive. Because of this there is a danger of confusing compassion with attachment and intimacy." The Dalai Lama

Because I’m already “sandbagging” to beat the band, and Facebook is not helping, I’m going to go ahead and go big with it. But if I’m going to take the time to spell out 25 random things about me, then I’m going to damn well make all of you read them, too!

25 Random Things About Me

1. I have had so much orthodontia and oral surgery, and still do not have teeth that work together to chew in any sort of productive way, that I really do not enjoy eating. At all.

2. To further extend this theme, I do not like thinking about food, cooking food, talking about food, reading about food, etc. You cannot believe how isolating this is.

3. My hair is in perpetual transition – always going for shorter/longer/darker/lighter/more classic/trendier.

4. I’m shrinking. In two years I’ve lost 1 ½ inches.

5. It’s a good thing I’m bad at math and cannot easily calculate how short I’ll be by when, if this rate continues.

6. My very most favorite thing in the world to do is have HDRs (heavy, deep and real conversations). One good HDR can leave me high for days. Or longer.

7. My family is full of lawyers.

8. Being good at arguing is a “skill” I’m trying hard to shake.

9. The only reason I went to OSU (Oregon State University) was because my best friend was going there, and she said we could be roommates.

10. Turned out to be the perfect place for me, and besides, it really annoyed all the University of Oregon alums in my family.

11. The only reason I still hesitated going to OSU, was I didn’t like the college colors: black and orange.

12. When I was a teacher, I loved teaching – never dreamed I’d do anything else. Now that I’m not teaching, I can’t imagine ever going back.

13. I wonder if that’s a pattern I’ll keep repeating.

14. I have had one serious boyfriend.

15. I married him.

16. I find parenting natural, effortless, and brutally hard, all at the same time.

17. I used to think it was unfair that I had the kids I have, with the challenges they have/present.

18. I no longer believe in the notion of “unfair.”

19. Because I believe there are no accidents.

20. I love people. I love my family, my friends, and people in general, and consider myself very social.

21. Nothing beats being totally alone.

22. Nobody laughs harder at my jokes than I do.

23. My parents got married so they could have children.

24. I was their first.

25. I really appreciate, now, the value of being “wanted.”

STEPHANIE KALLOS

Went to hear/see Stephanie Kallos last night. She read from her second (and great) novel, SING THEM HOME. I'm sure many of you are familiar with her first book, BROKEN FOR YOU.

I like hearing authors read, but it's their behind-the-scenes look at the writing process that always fascinates me. You fellow writers will get a big kick out of this essay, HOW TO WRITE YOUR SECOND NOVEL, which she also read.

I'm always fascinated to learn what parts of author's novels are autobiographical, and usually the answer is "a lot."

When it came time for Q&A, someone asked how Stephanie got her idea for BROKEN FOR YOU. She told a beautiful story of a time when her mother and she spent a weekend together, had too much wine, and her mother told her, "You know, marriage is like a teacup. And sometimes that teacup gets broken. Then you have to decide what to do with that teacup. You can either throw it away, or put it back together. But if you put it back together, you can't then just stick it on a shelf. You have to use it. Test it. See if it'll hold together."

I loved that.

And from that one moment of deep connection with her mother, a beautiful book was born.

SANDBAG GIRL

My friend tells a great story about her husband, and how he had this great idea for a movie, was going to write the script, produce the movie, film the movie, distribute the movie, all things movie, but instead he was down in the basement, night after night, doing only God knows what.

Finally she went down there to see for herself, and he was sewing.

Sandbags.

To keep the camera in place for filming the movie that he hadn't yet written.

"That is so you! If there is a list from A-Z, you always start with Z! Start with A! WRITE THE SCRIPT!" she said to him.

I'm a sandbag girl myself. I get this. Give me a list a mile long, and I'll almost always start in order of least importance. My theory being those items are easier/shorter/cluttering my brain, and if I move them out of the way, then I'll really be able to tackle "A."

My theory doesn't hold water.

But sandbags do.

"SAN DIEGO" OR BUST

Haven't told you guys ELD about my dreams lately - do you miss them?

Well, had a doozy the other night! STM had put Rojo in a car, got him on I5, and told him to just keep driving until he got to San Diego (1,090 miles).

I kept interrogating STM, "He doesn't even know how to drive! He's 12! What were you thinking?"

"He can do it," he kept saying, "it's a straight shot."

"But not if he has to stop to pee, eat, sleep! How will he do all that?"

"I gave him the guide," STM told me.

"The guide?" I asked, the only "guide" that popped in my head at the time was the TV Guide.

STM didn't answer me, but his confidence in Rojo and the presence of the "guide," comforted me.

Every time I see Rojo walking around, I think, God, I'm glad you're not driving to San Diego right now!

Can't shake the dream.

If it's true that all aspects of the dream are parts of us, what part of me is on a long journey, with a guide?

What part of me is heading out of an arctic cold and darkness, and toward the warmth and light of the sun?

What part of me is like Juan Diego?

What part of me puts "unprepared" people "behind the wheel" and tells them to go for it?

What part of me already knows the answers to these questions?


* Photo from Flicker (San Diego Prado - Museum of Man)

THE RABBIT HOLE

A few months ago I joined Facebook, knowing I needed another on-line addiction like a hole in the head.

And at first I showed restraint - more than restraint, I sort of forgot about it.

Then I dipped a toe in. Just a toe - checked in now and then, wrote on a wall or two, and left it at that.

Too swept up in the emotion of Tuesday's history making, I was worthless on Wednesday, and jumped in with both feet. Next thing I knew I'd spent HOURS looking for old friends, and FINDING them! Writing on walls turned to e-mail exchanges, turned to revelations, turned to honest to God re-connecting.

Re-connecting.

Connecting again - but differently, and I'm going to have to say, better.

Forgot about how many funny, FUNNY people I knew in high school.

And they're still funny, haven't had so many giggles in one day as I did on Wednesday, in far too long.

Amongst the funny friends there have been many divorces, many children born, some left childless - and aching. Some of the children are medically fragile, some have autism, some are gifted - all are what children are: complicated.

Some friends are in recovery, some are balding, some have new noses, all have changed the way 28 years tends to do to a person.

Found one friend that had my dad as a college professor - never knew that before. He simply asked, "Your dad still around?" When I answered that no, he had died 12 years ago, he told me that out of the three colleges/universities he'd attended, my dad was the most memorable - left the biggest impression.

I didn't know that man - the man that left positive impressions/big impacts. Facebook gave me a glimpse of a man I am only now coming to appreciate, my own father.

Picked Woohoo up from her high school yesterday, the one that is a near replica of the one I went to so long ago. She has no idea of the roots that are growing deep in the ground these critical years - roots that with any luck, will bring her lots of giggles, and a deeper sense of self someday.

And her family tree.

YOU MEAN THAT TOOTH?

I'm in the laundry room moving load number three from washer to dryer, and I hear it.

Clink, clink, clink.

Something has fallen from someone's pocket, and is banging around in there but I can't see it.

I unload and shake each article of clothing: jeans, hoodies, towels, uniform pants, still can't find it.

Clink, clink, clink.

The last piece is out, safely loaded in the dryer, and I dig my hand, and half my arm, in there and swipe away.

Finally my fingers land on something rough on one side, smooth on the other, very tiny.

A flippin' tooth.

Rojo's tooth.

I go into the living room, interrupt his viewing of The Yelling Show, and say, "Did you lose a tooth?"

"It's a long story," he answers me without even looking up.

"WHEN did you lose a tooth?"

"It's a long story," he repeats.

"Okay, so don't tell me the long story, just answer yes or no, were you at school when a tooth fell out, and you just shoved it in your pocket?"

"I told you, it's a long story," he says, slightly miffed, but still refusing to take his eyes of John Hagen on "Praise the Lord."

I go find STM.

"Classic!" I say, showing him the tooth, "Look what I found in the dryer!"

"Is that a TOOTH?" he says.

"No, not A tooth, THE tooth. The tooth I've taken him to a dentist and an orthodontist over. The one that wouldn't come out when the big one started coming in right on top. The one we've been watching to see if it needs to be pulled. The one I've been driving him all over the city for. The tooth that has kept me up at night because I couldn't imagine how we'd ever deal with him having to get a tooth pulled. THAT tooth."

"Yea," STM says, "well someday you'll learn not to sweat it."

Someday.

But not today.


* Photo from craftjuice.com

EASIER SAID THAN DONE

Read this on Lola's blog, and spent some time pondering that very good question - when DOES opinion turn into judgment? I finally landed on an answer that worked for me: When it lacks compassion.

And I totally believe that.

But do I FOLLOW that?

Not so much.

Went walking with Kathleen and we saw a house in the neighborhood that still has its Christmas tree up in the front window. Not just up, lighted and decorated.

It was zero to full judgment in 1.2 seconds, "It's nearly a month after Christmas," I barked, "WTF?"

Couple hours later I went grocery shopping and amongst my other very essentials, was a bag of Valentine M&Ms. As the checker scanned them she said, "Wasn't it just Christmas?"

"Well, in my neighborhood it still is for one family," I said, "they still have their CHRISTMAS tree up, and lighted!" Felt the harsh words hurl from my mouth and instantly regretted them, but it was too late, my spewage had made its exit and landed all over her.

"When I was a little girl in LA," she started to tell me, "it was during the Vietnam War. My father was a paster, and one family in my father's congregation kept their tree up until March that year - hoping their son would come home soon and he would get to see it. They waited for him."

I felt the tears start to come.

"He never made it home.." she said, choking on her words.

I've changed both my opinion and my judgment.

A LONG TIME COMING

Over three years ago I bought this magnet for a friend, my loudest and most outspoken anti-Bush friend. Her husband was a Bush supporter, so he wouldn't let her affix it to their car's bumper, as she'd hoped, so she put it on their frig. out in the garage. For three years I've gone over to visit her and taken a look at that magnet, and thought, that will be a historical and important day.

Three years ago I'd never even heard the name Barack Obama.

Two years ago I went away for the weekend with two friends, and the place we were staying had a bunch of magazines laid out. The one on top was TIME with a picture of Barack Obama. One of my friends said, "I went to high school with him in Hawaii."

"Oh yea?" I asked. "Who is he?"

And so she told me.

And as she told me, I just knew he would be our next president.

Then Rojo started telling me Barack Obama would be our next president, and for the next many months I tried to rest in that "knowledge" as we played the waiting game before making it official.

Today it's official.

I am overcome with emotion.

And gratitude.

And hope.

And love.

"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. - 1929-1968



* Photo from photobucket.com

Dear Readers,

I am gathering a list of websites that deal with learning differences, special needs, basically any topic of interest to a broad range of special needs parents/advocates. Would you tell me what your favorites are? You can either leave a comment below, anonymously or not, or e-mail me at: carriewilsonlink@comcast.net

Thank you so much!

love.
Carrie

OUR WORLD

You need this CD/download, Heather Masse's (a Wailin' Jenny) Many Moons.

Her song, "Our World," is perfection.

OUR WORLD, HEATHER MASSE

Saw somebody that I hadn't seen in awhile
We started talking about our lives
With a week and tired smile
Cause we're all working hard at living
Trying to find out what's real
And they keep on telling us
How we should feel

These are our lives
These are our fears
This is our world
And we can choose to feel sincere

Corn is swaying along those fields
A green that never seems to end
If we keep sowing our seeds in oil
There'll be nothing left to spend

Our hearts are empty
Our pockets are full
With songs that have all been sung
It's hard to see when your eyes
Are blind to the world you're really in

These are our eyes
These are our lips
This is our song
And we can let our voices ring
These are our hearts
These are our hands
This is our world
And we can join it together again

These are our eyes
These are our lips
This is our song
And we can let our voices ring
These are our hearts
These are our hands
This is our life
And we can join
Join it together again

THE T BOMB


Last night I put Rojo to bed and I said, "I really liked your Help Wanted ad! Good job!"

He said, "Yea, I'm probably not going to need to hire anyone, though, because my sons are going to do the job. My sons Ted and Brandon. I'm going to have five sons (because Lois on "Malcolm in the Middle" has five sons, and he LOVES Lois). You will have to be the nanny for the three youngest boys, Cameron, Taylor and Mikey. I will take Ted and Brandon with me. Ted will be the picker upper, Brandon will be the dumper."

"That sounds really great," I said. "Jenn was really proud of how well you did on that assignment, though, did you tell her about all the sons?"

Not answering that question he said, "That Jenn, she threw a T-bomb at me!"

"A T-bomb?" I asked, wondering if the T-bomb was anything like an F-bomb, and if throwing one was anything like dropping one, and not being able to fathom the Wonder that is Jenn throwing, dropping or in any way tossing obscenities at my son at school.

"Yea! She said we had to use the white board on Thursday when we do math, and we have to show our work, then we have to erase it for the next person!"

"So how'd she throw a T-bomb?" I asked.

"She said we had to do that on THURSDAY!"

That Jenn. I need to speak with her. How dare she use the days of the week when speaking to MY son!

The wonder that is Jenn sent me an e-mail today with the subject line, "Get a load of this!" OMHOG, it's a goody - too good not to share, thanks, Jenn!

Carrie,

This is the best so far. Don't open the document until you are finished reading. Today in environmental science the class was assigned a job to create a help wanted ad. It was supposed to involve the wild animals that they have been researching. The ad was to look for help in the area of where their animal lives. Anyway, that was too much for Rojo, so he was to create a help wanted ad for help in a job that he would be working. He chose his job and then began writing the ad. His instructions were to describe what kind of work they would be doing and when. He also had to include what type of characteristics the person should have in order to get the job.
ENJOY!
Jenn


Rojo link
1-13-2009

HELP WANTED

I’m looking for a grabge man helper for me. Monday though Saturday from 8:25 to 12:30 is when I need help. When I’m 20 years old that’s when all be needing help. I will be the driver you will be the dumper. You will be the gabage can picker uper. I will pay you five doallers. I need a person who will be be good be nice and be in a good mood. And don’t forget.

CLOSER TO THE TOP


From the pain comes the dream.
From the dream comes the vision.
From the vision come the people.
From the people comes the power.
From this power comes the change.
(Peter Gabriel - good catch, NBF, Wanda!)

I've blogged before about my "grief is like a Slinky" theory, but just in case you missed it, it's pretty much just like it sounds: Grief is like a Slinky. It’s one circle on another circle on another circle, all coiling, wrapping, winding and leading their way to the end: Acceptance. The grief (of whatever/whomever you’re letting go of) cycles around and around, almost always catching you by surprise when it feels like you’re back at the beginning again, and you feel disappointed because you thought you’d come so far.

Well, you have come far; you’re just not done. You’ve completed more cycles and are moving towards healing/acceptance with every turn. That feeling of being back at the beginning again is just the beginning of the next layer, but not the very, very, beginning.

That’s my theory.

May not be true for everyone, but it’s true for me.

Well, I think STM and I completed a few major rotations round the ol' Slinky today as we visited the SCHOOL THAT GETS IT. We went up to Washington Monday to belatedly celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary (plus 6 years of dating means I've been with this man over 1/2 my life, but who's counting?). We had a really nice time, laughing, hanging out, and remembering why we got married in the first place. Note to self: Do this more often.

This morning we woke up early and headed over to TSTGI, and OMHOG, do they GET IT! I was all prepared, had my yellow legal pad all full of questions and room to write their responses. I'd done my homework, there was nothing they could say or do that would make ME lose my composure! I was just there on a fact finding mission, for God's sake, not to be TOUCHED! You see, we are hoping to replicate TSTGI here in Portland, and STM and I are the self-appointed ambassadors (read: Most desperate).

For a full five minutes I was business like. I think it was when the director (who happens to have a daughter in the program), said they rely on peer tutors, and she has testimonial after testimonial of the profound, and long-reaching impact this program has on the "typicals," that I started crying. For the first time.

When the principal stopped what he was doing and joined us for 45 minutes I held it together, until he said, "This is not a program for 20 kids. This is a program for 615 kids, 100 teachers/staff, and hundreds of parents. This is a program for this entire community." When I started thinking of just how far those ripples spread, from this community to the greater community, to the greater state, region, county and beyond, it quickly turned into an ugly cry.

Five other programs have been started with this school as its model - one parent last MARCH got a bee in her bonnet and had a program in place in AUGUST. The director gave me all the contact information, and I can't wait to call tomorrow. My new best friend is a phone call away.

As we toured the school the director spotted a young woman. "A.," she called, "come meet the Links." A well composed, highly articulate, self-confident senior approached us, and warmly shook our hands. "The Links are hoping to start a program like this at their school, in Portland," the director told A. "Well, you'll want to start a 'Circle of Friends' group, I run that here at this school. We match the Options kids with peers and do monthly activities. It's a great program."

We let her get back to class, and the director said, "She moved here from Greece three years ago - didn't speak a word of English. She was terribly shy, no self esteem, and she found refuge in the Options Program. We trained her to be a peer tutor and she is now a major leader at this school. When she graduates she wants to go to college and major in Special Education."

The last trace of mascara was wiped from my eyes.

A school that gets it.

Times five.

At least.

Imagine the ripples.

Imagine the possibilities.

Imagine the healing.

Imagine the miracles.

Imagine.

A SCHOOL THAT GETS IT

STM and I are taking a road trip today to go visit this school.

A school that recently moved so they could have room to rebuild the school, placing their Options Program in the very CENTER - the heart of the school, because their program for students with special needs is not periphery, it IS what they are about.

It's at the center.

Everything else radiates from there.

That's all I'm sayin'.

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Recently had coffee with a friend, and as we got our cups and looked around for a place to sit, I intentionally steered her towards one corner, away from a table where four grown men were seated. But it was a small cafe, and I could still easily overhear the four men's conversation, no matter how hard I tried not to.

One of the men had developmental disabilities, and the other three could not have been kinder towards him.

It broke my heart.

They asked how he'd done during the recent snow storm that stranded people for days/weeks.

"Okay," he answered.

"What did you do all that time?" one asked.

"TV. Lots of TV," he answered.

"Anyone check on you?" another asked.

"My sister. My sister called every night. My sister calls every night."

One of the men at the table had watched me as I looked for a place to sit, he'd seen me look at them, notice the man with the developmental differences, and subsequently choose another table. A more distant one.

Throughout my conversation with my friend I saw the man look up at me, catch my eyes.

In his eyes I saw the question, "Why do you avoid us? Don't you understand?"

I avoided them not because I don't understand, I avoided them because I do.

All too well.

I couldn't bear to let my mind go to a distant day when STM and I are gone, where Rojo lives all alone and just watches TV all day.

And where his sister calls at night.

Every night

Because she will.

I know she will.

And that day, it was all just too close to home.

I stayed away because I do understand.

I really do. And for that precious hour, I needed to forget just how much I understand.

POCKET MARY

Meet Pocket Mary. I found her for sale one day when I was with a holy friend, Prema, which made it all that much more "no accident-y." I bought all they had in stock, and gave them to all my Mary-loving friends.

Mary's had a few adventures, she's gone with kids to high school on test days, she's been to many a hospital waiting room as a loved one goes in for surgery. She's even been to Napal to help start a school. We've all lent our Marys to those that might need that extra little bit of comfort and protection. Let's just say she gets around.

My own pocket Mary has been given and returned to me any number of times, and then she just up and disappeared. I knew I was the last one to see her, so I'd just misplaced her somewhere - probably in a pocket, naturally, but no matter how many pockets I went through, I couldn't find Mary.

Yesterday, about 10 minutes after posting about the difficulty of remaining hopeful in challenging times, I went to my closet to get dressed, and I saw her, right there under my jeans, just lying there in plain sight suddenly.

She'd been there all along.

"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." Winston Churchill

I don't have to tell you, these are difficult times. Just found out another loved one lost her job. Her age, health and agoraphobia would make finding a new one difficult under any circumstances, but under these, it feels impossible to her.

You can't turn on the news without being assaulted by all the atrocities/disasters/doom and gloom.

And it's all real.

And as I look out my window and watch it rain for what feels like the 40th day and night, listen to the radio to hear there's so much flooding, major freeways in our area are being closed, I can't help but wonder if my grandmother's warnings of the Second Coming are being brought to fruition.

War, famine, flooding, fires, it's all straight out of the Bible.

It's scary.

How do any of us maintain our hope, our optimism, our faith in better things/times to come?

I don't know how "any" of us do it, I only know that for me, fear begets fear, and hope begets hope.

And so I hope.



* Photo from www.kaushik.net

MYOB?

Rojo is happy because the Christmas tree is out of the living room, giving way to more room for a basketball court. Since Thanksgiving he's been limited to football, which to his way of thinking, requires a smaller amount of space.

What it really required was a different colored afghan/throw/blanket depending on which teams were playing. We've got a blue one and that went down over the carpet and became "turf" if he was playing at Boise State University. The rest got the greenish one. He "was" Boise, a lot, though, so blue and green got about equal time on the floor - and in the washing machine.

So now that the tree is down though, he can have full use of the room, and two "hoops" - the opposing windows. The afghans are back in their basket by the side of the couch, and he's all over the room, shooting, blowing his "whistle," cheering, being the band, the refs, all the players, the "whole Maryann," as STM would say.

Last night I'm watching him and my mind drifts off - and I guess, so do my eyes.

He stops the game, looks right at me and says, "Don't mind your own business, mind MY business!"

And that's really all the boy wants and needs - my "minding." Why is that the very hardest thing to give?

EPIPHANY

Today, January 6th is Epiphany (Greek for "to manifest" or "to show"), 12 days after Christmas, the time "they" say it took for the Three Wise Men, the Magi, to travel to see Baby Jesus.

As the story goes, the Three Kings brought gifts of gold, frankincense (incense) and myrrh (an anointing/holy oil).

Woohoo and her friends recently sat at our breakfast bar and had the same conversation I remember having in my youth.

"Why would you bring a baby gold, frankincense and myrrh? Especially a POOR baby? Wouldn't you bring him blankets and toys, things he could actually use?

I tried to explain what my mother explained to me, once upon a time, that the gifts were symbolic, and best not thought of so literally.

Symbolic?

Gold symbolizes good vs. evil, as well as royalty.

Frankincense represents divinity.

Myrrh symbolizes His death, and crown of thorns.


Some people call today Three Kings Day.

The Irish call it "Little Christmas."

When someone "wakes up," starts to "get it," we say they've had an epiphany.

The Hindu have a similar word that means "visions of the divine."

Whatever you want to call it, and whatever religion/tradition you do or do not follow, it's cool, don't you think?

A day where we celebrate arriving at a new understanding? Catching a glimpse of the divine?

And thinking about what symbols represent our own lives?






* Photo from www.justcardsdirect.com

THE HOUR I FIRST BELIEVED

I'm only about 1/2 way through this book, but I'm feeling lonely when reading it - I'd love to hear who else is reading it, and how you're reacting to it.

Wally Lamb says it's a story about the juggling between hope and despair.

Yes.

That's it.

UP IN THE AIR

STM is concerned I have too many balls in the air, that I'm juggling too much, that something is going to crash, and it will probably be him/our relationship.

And if past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior (thank you, Dr. Phil), then he'd be right.

But he's wrong.

THIS time.

This time there are quite a few balls up in the air, that's true, but some of them can stay up there for quite some time, with no assist from me. They are long-term, multi-phase projects that have lots of other people involved, too, and it's just not always "my turn." In fact, most of the time it's not my turn.

And while it would be great if these balls all floated gracefully down to me in a nice, predictable, steady, do-able way, I'm sure there will be times when I've got more than one vying for my attention, but there will also be times when all of them are dangling up there just fine, and the best thing for me to do is leave them alone.

THAT will be the challenge.

And maybe what he's really afraid of is at those times, those times when I'm not too busy, I'll turn ALL my attention on him.

That could be scary.

THE WHEEL OF DHARMA

The Dharma wheel, or Dharmachakra, is an ancient, and universally recognized symbol of Buddhism. The eight spokes represent the Eightfold Path, or THE MIDDLE WAY.

The circle/chakra shape symbolizes the perfection of the Dharma teaching.

The center of the circle, the "hub," represents the discipline required for a meditation practice.

The rim symbolizes mindfulness, which holds everything together.

Dharma is the teachings of Buddhism, meant to eliminate suffering through its elimination of ignorance (the cause of suffering).

I found a great website that offers free Dharma for whatever ails you!

Om Mani Padme Hum!

THE ONLY WAY OUT, IS THROUGH

2008 felt like a tunnel to me - but I see light, and I'll be damned if I'm going to get confused this time and turn around and follow it back the way I came.

I'm going through.

To the end.

To the light.

Have this song playing on repeat - in case I forget:

"BREATHE (2 AM)" by Anna Nalick

"There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around."


Happy New Year, Blog Readers! Thank you for being with me on my journey THROUGH!

love.