LITTLE ME VS. REAL ME

Been struggling lately as it's come to my attention that not one, not two, but three men I know are not happy with me at ALL. How can someone as sweet and delightful as me, stir up all this dust? "Little me", as Eckhart Tolle calls our ego-driven self, is very defensive! How dare they! They are deflecting! They have so much of their own stuff to deal with, they are dodging that in favor of attacking me! While that may be true (Little Me is convinced it is) it doesn't make the situation any prettier. The fact remains, I have inadvertantly, and with the best of intentions, hurt those men. They are hurt. I am super "right", but they are super "hurt", and I am working double overtime to want their peace above my righteousness.

Little Me and the soulful part of me are waging war. If my apology to them is not sincere, what is the point? Why even aplogize for something I so believe was pure in its intent? Why even apologize to men so dense and ignorant they have to make me wrong to justify the feelings within themselves? How am I any beter than that? Aren't I doing the exact same thing? Who am I to call them dense and ignorant? Who do I think I am? And around and around they go, Little Me and Real Me, chasing each other in a race that can only be won by surrendering, allowing the need for compassion to overtake the need for validation. Allowing the Real Me to take comfort in extending the olive branch of peace to those engaged in battle with me. Allowing the Real Me to douse Little Me's voice out with huge pourings of love and peace. Love, love and more love. Period.

GETTING THE PINK

In my friend's, Kathleen, family, there is an expression oft used, "Getting the pink."

Story goes, one of her young nieces began singing to herself one evening after a particularly busy, kid-filled day, "I didn't get the pink, didn't get the pink, didn't get the pink all day..." over and over to herself with a sad, pitiful look in her eye, and pathetic tone in her song.

"What's wrong, Honey?" one parent eventually asked.

"I DIDN'T GET THE PINK ALL DAY!"

They were eventually able to determine "the pink" to be a pink Otter Pop (frozen snack). Apparently the day was hot, lots of kids in and out of the house coming in for Otter Pops, and well, you can see the tragic ending to this story. She got purple, green, blue, red and orange, but alas, no pink.

Years later, Kathleen's family uses the term when anyone is feeling left out, not important enough, or just receiving sub-par levels of attention in general.

The inverse also is true, one can get "plenty of pink." It's even possible to get "too much pink." I've been thinking about all of this as I process the needs vs. wants "thing". Feeling recognized, validated, noticed is such a basic need. God love the person that is able to state this need so well! Getting the pink goes nicely with my other favorite stolen expression, "Not enough has been made of..." invoked when what was said/done/felt/etc. did not get the proper level of response. Really, when you think about it, they are just nicer ways of calling bullshit!

Consider your pink needs today, and with gentle speech demand that they be met, understanding in the end, nobody will truly meet them but ourselves.

WHAT DO YOU NEED?

The first time I heard that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear, I was stunned. That was over 20 years ago, and since then I've come to embrace that fanatically, one might say. Wherever there is "hate", I try to determine what is the fear behind that. Finding the fear isn't the challenge, it's determining where the fear lies on the hierarchy of needs.

If you believe what Maslow taught us, that one cannot move "up" until foundational needs are met, it's quite helpful in becoming more compassionate and patient with others.

When Jennifer and I conduct our writing workshops, we must first create a safe "container". We believe that until the basic needs at the foundation of the pyramid are in place, transcendence is impossible. People, mostly women, come to us to write their story, to get it "out" of their bodies and minds, and to heal from whatever trauma(s) have taken place in their lives. Ultimately, what we want more than anything, is to facilitate the transcendence of trauma, or to get people on their way towards that transcendence. We believe writing memoir to be tremendously efficient in doing so.

We also believe there is a great responsibility to pad that transcendence process with soft places to land, deep inner resources from which to pull when the road to transcendence gets bumpy. And we try to do that in 2 1/2 days. Obviously we cannot be the first stop, nor the last on this path. We are just a "rest stop" along that highway. A place to pull off from the road and re-group. Clean out all the "litter", freshen up, have a snack, and move forward. Ever forward.

From Falling Awake I've learned how to ask for what I want. From Jennifer I've learned how we can't get what we want until our basic needs are first met. Needs, then wants. Needs, then wants. Needs, then wants.

I taught elementary education for 12 years. Over those years I saw the distinct trend. In schools where the population of students had a low level of basic needs met, more time in the school was spent on meeting those needs, than in formal "education." In many schools in our prosperous country, food, clothing and shelter are provided. Food, clothing and shelter. Nothing more basic than that. Yet without that first level on the pyramid "handled", how can we even pretend those students are coming ready to learn?

And so as I settle back into life as a mother and wife, 3,000 miles away from my last gig as a teacher, I wrestle with this conundrum. How do we offer both a place to meet needs and wants? How do we make people safe, let their story pour out, teach them a few nifty writing techniques, and prepare them for the backlash after publication? How do we serve without being self-serving? How do we teach anything but what we most need to learn ourselves?

TEACHING "THE CITY" A THING OR TWO

They say New York is the city that never sleeps. While that appears to be true, there is definitely some serious sleep taking place in room 804 of my lovely Manhattan hotel. I'm on a one-woman campaign to turn the tide. I take my sleep seriously, and do some of my best work in an unconscious state. It is there that I am with "my people" from the other realms. I derive clarity, receive helpful messages, and am at the very least, well-entertained.

Some tell me they don't dream. We know that if that were true, they'd be psychotic. That is the real bummer of sleep deprivation, the loss of that dream state of sleep. Wanna make someone go nutty cuckoo, wake them throughout the night for months on end. If you've ever been a new mother, you know what I'm talking about. Torture with a pretty name, post-partum.

So, we've established that we all dream (those of us still with one breath left between us and the funny farm). What happens is we are not remembering our dreams. The trick is to grab whatever ghost remains before your monkey mind starts doing its thing. In that moment before sleep turns to "What I have to do today," take ahold of that tiger's tail, and give it a swing. If all you can grab is a couple of tiger hairs, start with that.

Then, consider that Carl Jung was right, we are all aspects of our dreams. Re-run your dream, better yet, say it outloud or write it down. If you have a patient friend/lover/roommate, tell them. After each word, phrase or sentence, say, "Part of me." You'll freak yourself out, I'm warning you, so go easy.

Let's walk through the scary places of my mind together...

I am a child (part of me) returning (part of me) to my aunt's house (part of me). All I want to do is put together a familiar puzzle (part of me). Everyone else (part of me) wants me to do what they want (part of me) but I won't rest (part of me) until I get the jigsaw (part of me) completed (part of me).

That's just a snippet from one of many dreams I've had recently. Some nights I am the only person on the planet that can fly (part of me). Nobody else is impressed (part of me).That is both my favorite and most frustrating dream. Other times I'm being chased (part of me) by bad men (part of me).

When you have a particularly troubling dream, it can be quite a challenge to see yourself as your own perpetrator. Whatever parts of the dream bring you great excitement or fear, spend extra time on. Wherever there is a lot of energy, there is great wisdom/lessons contained.

Today we return to The City of Roses, Portland, Oregon. We leave behind the city so nice they named it twice. We leave behind the city of so many broken dreams, and we leave behind the idea that it's up to someone else to make our dreams come true.

FEEDING THE DEMON

There is a Buddhist practice called Chod. It is meant to cut away fear, cut out ego, get to purity. Part of the practice involves the feeding of demons, and it's all gory, weird and scary. Unfortunately/fortunately, it was also one of the first Buddhist practices I learned. You feed the demons to the point of completion, until they are full. Again, lots of gory, icky terms and notions are used, but the essence is lovely. What you resist, persists. What you feed gets full, and will stop gnawing on you.

When my daughter was diagnosed with OCD, we learned the same damn thing. By trying to re-direct her, soothe her, rationalize with her, it only created more anxiety and obsessiveness.

I recently attended a workshop called Falling Awake . It is a life-changing action plan. Specific skills are taught for getting what you WANT out of life. Now, I know what you're thinking, "If I get what I want out of life, won't that take away from everyone else getting what they want, and isn't that Selfish with a capital S?"

No. Self-sacrifice, at least in my case, only causes resentment. I can give myself totally away to the needs of others, in the name of selflessness, but guess what they "get", grumpy, anxious, pissed-off Carrie. Nobody likes that Carrie, especially me.

By "feeding the demon", giving into the wants of ourselves and others, we are actually liberating ourselves. The key is to determine what underlies the want. Obviously, if we give our kids everything they THINK they want, we'll raise spoiled brats. Ick. Hate that. The trick is determining what they WANT from what they want.

Most of the times the want is to fulfill a basic need, love, acceptance, assurance companionship, safety or validation. Occasionally the need is more primal, food/clothing/shelter.

What do you want? Really?

WTF, MRS. LITTLE?!

My son, nearly eleven, has never been able to listen long enough to have a book of any length read to him. Last night I decided to push the envelope. Desperately wanting to share the bonding experience of reading great literature together, I carefully pulled Stuart Little from the dusty shelf of his bookcase.

"It's short," I thought.

"It has enough pictures scattered in to hold his attention," I held.

"We'll read one tiny chapter a night. This will be great. I'm the most amazing woman on the planet to have thought of this brilliant idea," I boasted quietly to myself.

And so I began...

"When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived..."

"WTF? Mrs. Frederick C. Little????? Mrs. FREDERICK????" I fumed internally.

RIght away Rojo vibed in and said, "But what is HER name?" (And he's the one with "disabilities".)

Choosing to get over the fact that Mrs. Little is only the tiniest bit surprised to have given birth to a mouse, and not a human, going big with the whole "fantasy" genre, I graciously allow her to seemlessly accept this alarming development, and go on.

"...One day when Mrs. Little was washing out the bathtub after Mr. Little had taken a bath..."

"Rojo, WHO should be washing out the bathtub for Mr. Little after HIS bath..." I quiz.

"Ahem. OK, let's resume," I coax myself.

"...she lost a ring off her finger and was horrified to discover that it had fallen down the drain.

'What had I better do?' she cried, trying to keep the tears back." Mrs. Little, beseeching of her husband and son, the only ones with problem solving abiitities in the book, besides the rodent, of course.

Enough. Book slammed shut, my ire fully invoked, I turn to Rojo and say, "Let's read 'Spongebob.'"

FALLING AWAKE

I am flying high from a weekend away with significant others. My husband and I were able to retreat to Central Oregon together to celebrate his birthday (48), our marriage, burn the past and embrace our future. We were double blessed to have our favorite couple friends there, too. The number of "happily marrieds"' we know is few. Dismally few, but understandably few. Marriage is hard. Brutally hard. Ridiculously hard. Temptingly quit-able.

Eckhart Tolle, Power of Now says, "Never have relationships been as problematic and conflict ridden as they are now. As you may have noticed, they are not here to make you happy or fulfilled. If you continue to pursue the goal of salvation through a relationship, you will be disillusioned again and again. But if you accept that the relationship is here to make you conscious instead of happy, then the relationship will offer you salvation, and you will be aligning yourself with the higher consciousness that wants to be born into this world." I e-mailed that quote to my husband recently, he replied simply, "choir".

I'm going to be turning over the rich mulch from this weekend for awhile, but for now, a quickie Top 10...

TOP 10 THINGS I LEARNED AT "FALLING AWAKE":

10. What do I want? Figure that out.
9. Disconnect "wants" from "expectations"
8. Practice without reproach
7. The past holds guilt, the future, anxiety, the present is all we have
6. Being happy and having what you want is not sinful, it's your duty/obligation to pursue with abandon
5. The things I love about myself, are the things that my husband loves about me, and vice-versa
4. What we love about each other has nothing to do with how we look or what we own, or have "accomplished"
3. Wouldn't trade my life with anyone's
2. We're all connected, with far more in common than not
1. It all boils down to love.

NOT ENOUGH HAS BEEN MADE ABOUT CARE BEARS


My soon to be eleven-year-old son, Rojo, went with me to Jennifer's about a month ago. He played in her backyard just long enough to find a 3" plastic Care Bear Jo had left in the sandbox.

I didn't know Rojo even knew what a Care Bear was. We don't have ANY - correction, didn't have any - at our house. No mention of Care Bears, no videos, no NOTHING. My daughter had mercifully skipped that whole cutesy B.S.

"Where is my Care Bear?" Rojo asked in the car coming home.

"You don't have one, Honey."

"But I need a Care Bear." (He never asks for ANYTHING.)

Upon coming home he went through his 2,001 stuffed animals, determined to find "his" Care Bear. The exercise proved futile.

That weekend he spent some time with my mom. When she brought him home, behind his back hid "his" Care Bear, "Lucky."

"See, Mom? I DO have a Care Bear! His name is 'Lucky'! You were wrong, Mom! I DO have a Care Bear! See Lucky? See my pink, boy Care Bear, Lucky? See his rainbow? See? I DO have a Care Bear, Mom, you were wrong! Why were you wrong? Why did you tell me I don't have a Care Bear?"

"Because until Grammy took you to Toys R Us 1/2 an hour ago you DIDN'T," I thought, but was smart enough not to answer. I knew that Rojo being Rojo had some divine plan for his new pink, boy Care Bear, Lucky.

Lucky went to school in Rojo's backpack for several days in a row. Lucky came out each day at "sharing time" and each day Rojo shared his pink, boy, Care Bear with the other fourth graders in his class. My husband and I shuttered for a minute, thinking what the other kids must think, but then said, "what the hell..." and allowed it to continue. He'd already "shared" Elmo, Big Bird and Ernie, not to mention his girl-turned-boy doll, "Tarzan" a million times already. What was the point of ending our humiliation now? The horses were long gone from the barn.

Monday our dear family friend and long-term Rojo advocate, "Rosie" came over after school. She is a frequently requested house guest by both kids, and my personal favorite. All three feet of Rosie are packed with personality and wisdom beyond her years. I'll never forget her mom telling me Rosie came home from kindergarten one day and said, "Mom, Rojo is a lot smarter than you think. He can recite the alphabet backwards and count to 100!" I was ready to adopt her on the spot. She has not let anyone mess with him, ever, she's got his back, front, and both sides around-the-clock.

While Rosie was stuck watching Rojo play an odd mix of Go-Fish and solitaire, she told me all about Rojo sharing Lucky for the 10th day in a row.

"Some kids, well actually two kids, were kind of laughing at Rojo when he shared Lucky. They said, 'He has a CARE BEAR??? A PINK Care Bear???" I just gave them a look and said, "Yes! He has a Care Bear? What's so funny about that?"

I looked at Rosie and told her again how lucky we all are to have her as Rojo's good, good, friend.

"Well it IS a Catholic school, you know, that behavior is unacceptable! We are supposed to be kind to everyone! Rojo IS kind to everyone, it's not OK for others not to be kind to him!"

"That's right, Rosie," I agreed, "you tell 'em!"

"Oh, I do! I don't even care if they get mad at me. Their parents should be teaching them this stuff, but since they AREN'T, I guess, I'll just do it!"

"I love you and everything about you, Rosie!" I enthused.

"Just doing my job," she smiled.

As she languished on the couch watching the Go-Fish/solitaire game patiently, as directed, I just had to snap her darling picture. I called her mom later to ask if I could post the picture and this story on my blog, I told her all about it.

"Sure," she said, "and you ought to know, her brother's nickname for her is Care Bear."

Of course it is.


This from the Care Bear website...

"Cheer Bear is a very happy Care Bear who helps others see the bright side of life. She will sometimes even do a cheer to help make someone happier. Wherever she goes, Cheer Bear wears a symbol of hope and happiness—a rainbow.
Caring Mission: Cheers people up.
Symbol: Her rainbow symbol represents hope.
Personality: Happy and upbeat.
Character Quirk: Sometimes communicates through rhyming cheers.
Color: Pink.
Best Friend: Wish Bear
Relationship Challenge: Grumpy Bear - she's always trying to cheer him up!
Motto: When in doubt, SMILE!"

The first time I met her I knew it would not be a one-time meeting. There was a soul connection. I also knew it wouldn't happen overnight. There were issues of trust to overcome. That was OK, I could wait. Soul connections do not live within the boundaries of conventional time.

I was in her home. HER home. The place where my favorite words were put into my favorite books. I'd read thousands of books from thousands of authors, but now I was in the home of THIS writer.

I waited.

Someone else feeling similarly asked to see her office, just to "spin around" in the room where the magic took place. The magic of inspired words being put on a blank page, transforming the page and the souls that read them.

My head said, "Me too! I want to spin around in that space!'

My soul said, "Fear not. You'll see that space. You'll more than see that space, but for now, it is not your turn. Be patient. Good things come to those that wait.

I waited.

Together we took out the trust issues, one by one, and shot them all to hell.

Friday I moved my office into that office. THAT office. Our office.

Good things DO come to those that wait. And believe. And trust. And are more tenacious than dogs with a bone.

Woof.

TOP 10 BEST THINGS ABOUT MOTHER'S DAY '07

10. My mom spent it with my brother
9. No green Jell-O
8. We combined two May birthdays into the celebration
7. Check, check, check!
6. My mother-in-law is the easiest to please person on the planet
5. The party wasn't at my house
4. My husband gave me the nicest card in the world
3. Rojo gave me candy and then ate it all
2. Woo-Who gave me homemade coupons to clean her room and babysit her brother
1. It's over for another year

(Maybe if he were hanging from my bar, I'd re-consider...)

21 DAYS TO ESTABLISH OR ELIMINATE

Head ducked, I walk into the laundry room.

Head ducked, I walk out.

Head ducked, I return to the laundry room.

Head ducked, I walk out.

Almost a year ago my husband installed a chin-up bar in the doorway of the laundry room, so my son could work on his upper body strength. It worked. He hung on that thing every time I went in or out of the laundry room, roughly 4 million times a week.

About two weeks ago I stopped banging my head on the bar, ALWAYS forgetting it was there, finally learning to duck.

Three days ago, realizing my son hadn't hung on the damn bar for months and tired of the ducking/banging, "Oh Yea!" moments, I removed the bar.

I never fail to duck now. Never.

They say it takes 21 days to establish or eliminate a habit. We won't get all judgmental and label habits "good" or "bad", we'll just call them what they are, habits. Habits can be very useful and productive, or not so much. Often, what begins for the "right" reasons and is super helpful at the time, outgrows its usefulness/helpfulness, but the habit remains. I'm trying to tease out those habits that are no longer useful. I'm starting with the ducking and moving up the list from there.

HELPING THOSE THAT WON'T HELP THEMSELVES

"Hello?"

"Hi! It's Carrie. I know you are both sick as dogs and haven't been out of the house in days. I am going to Safeway right now, what can I bring you/"

"Oh nothing. We're just fine."

"Really? You have everything you need?"

"Oh yes, we're good. Really. Don't worry about us!"

"How about juice?"

"Well, yes, we could use a little juice."

"Orange?"

"Sure, orange would be great."

"Any particular kind?"

"Oh no, it doesn't matter."

"Do you like it to have pulp? Extra pulp? No pulp?"

"Oh we'd prefer it to not have pulp."

"OK, what else?"

"Oh no, just the orange juice."

"How about bread?"

"Well, we did use our last slice yesterday..."

"OK, I'll get bread. Whole wheat?"


"Whole wheat would be fine."

"Would you prefer something else?"

"Oh no, whole wheat is fine."

"Do you like a particular kind?"

"No, just whatever's on sale."

"Do you even WANT whole wheat?"

"Actually..."

And so it went until $50 later I'd delivered all the things they were completely out of.

ROUGHLY SPEAKING

Jenny Rough was the first blogger I met face-to-face. Can't believe that was only 14 months ago, I had only heard of blogs then, never read one. Jenny's was my first. You always remember the first!

Now Jenny is kicking some freelance butt and writing all over the place. Her newest venture is this. If you're into healthy eating, and c'mon, who *SHOULDN'T be, you'll be glad you stopped by!

* I am having a hard time keeping my fingers on the keys due to the greasy residue left over from my MSG, Red Dye #5 laced snack food I'm consuming while writing this...

YOU CAN BLAME IT ALL ON ANNE FRANK

My mom's a PK, Preacher's Kid, and I don't mean minister, I mean PREACHER. Baptist. Say no more. Although not raised Baptist, my brother and I were raised Protestant Christians, as opposed to Catholic Christians, which everyone knows aren't "real" Christians, because they worship false idols and are hung up on Mary.

My brother was the first to jump ship. He first went deep into Native American traditions. Eventually he found Buddhism and a community of Tibetan Buddhists in the unlikely town of Cottage Grove, Oregon (population 10 - or close enough). There he befriended a Buddhist monk that had immigrated from a refugee camp in India. This monk knew a girl that Michael, my brother, might like. 1 1/2 years of e-mails and phone calls later, my brother married this wonderful woman, Sonam.

Even my dyed-in-the-wool Christian mother couldn't help but be moved by the authenticity of this Tibetan Buddhist daughter-in-law. Such profound love, wisdom, compassion, peace and forgiveness we'd never seen before.

Meanwhile, I was involved in a women's book group. We read Anne Frank. While discussing it, one woman, perhaps my greatest teacher ever, said it was a shame Anne Frank and the other Jews that perished in the Holocaust are all now burning in hell. Had they only given their lives to Jesus, they could live in His perfect peace in heaven. That's it. I snapped. I had read Anne Frank at least twice prior. I'd dragged my husband to Amsterdam when visiting Europe, for the sole purpose of seeing her hiding place. I had read countless other books on the Holocaust. There was NO way anyone was going to get me to agree that these people were now burning in hell! Excuse me? Check, check! The Holocaust WAS burning in hell. Literally! WTF?

From that night forward I couldn't "be with" my life-long religion. It was great, but it was not enough. Too much of it never added up for me. I thought it was me, a rebel, until I realized eventually that there were many others with the same snags circling the globe, and had been, for thousands of years. What a relief.

I don't know what to call myself now, so I say I'm "everything" which is quite different from being "nothing." Someone else called this thinking Universalism. Another called it poly-religious. I don't really care to be labeled or put in a box. I'm fine with the fact that all good is good. There is one truth, but many paths. Different strokes for different folks, and all that stuff.

I do know that those with whom we most disagree, have the most to teach us.

BACK TO BUSINESS

A few people asked me how I could go from talking about my time with the Dalai Lama, to Top 10 Grade School Come-Backs. Well, the answer is quite simple, I'm a NUT! My mind zips and zags a million times a day, never resting too long at any one place. The Buddhists call this "Monkey Mind". I prefer to call mine, "Gorilla Mind" because, like with all things, I believe my situation is worse/bigger/better/more interesting at least. Well, the old me, that is. To say that I have been profoundly changed by my limited time with ol' HH (His Holiness) is an understatement, and nobody has EVER accused me of having the gift of understatement!

The friend with whom I shared the whole experience and I have been talking about it a lot ever since. As the days progress, so does our processing and deeper integration of the experience. I think merely by being in his presence, you can't help but be changed. You'd have to be a rock not to feel that man's "ju-ju", no matter where you were in the gigantic auditorium. I'd be willing to bet the good vibes wafted several miles in all directions.

My friend had to miss a few minutes of one of his teachings, when she returned, she said, "What'd I miss? Did you get enlightened?" We've had a couple of chats about that since then, too. I hear it is possible to be enlightened, "just like that." I don't know, I think my "Everything is on a continuum" theory might also apply here. If you look just at the word, "enlightenment", what do you see? Light! Full of the light. It seems to me that some humans come to this life already more full of life than others. I wonder what a shock to the system it would be for someone with very little light to achieve enlightenment, "just like that." Could they even take it? Would the light be so blinding and burning they couldn't stand it?

Being a born and raised Oregonian, it takes very little sunlight to have me reaching for my sunglasses (although I'm switching to a maroon visor as soon as I can get my hands on one). Would the same be true for enlightenment? Wikipedia defines it this way: Bodhi (Pali and Sanskrit. Lit. awakening. Trans. enlightenment) is a title given in Buddhism to the specific awakening experience attained by the Indian spiritual teacher Gautama Buddha and his disciples. It is sometimes described as complete and perfect sanity, or awareness of the true nature of the universe. After attainment, it is believed one is freed from the cycle of Samsāra; birth, suffering, death and rebirth.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enlightenment_(Buddhism)

I'll continue to muse/brag/offend/incite and I hope, inspire, as I continue to work through what it is I saw and heard, and what it is I now want to BE.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WOO-HOO!


Today I became a mother,
Thirteen years ago,
If you don't believe me
There are many grey hairs to show.

"Woo-Who" is what we call her,
Rojo named her that.
Always his big sister,
It's one of her many hats.

Some others she wears,
Are granddaughter and niece.
Cousin, baby sitter, friend,
Everyone gets their piece.

She's a stong-minded one,
Won't back down from a fight.
She knows when you're wrong,
And she knows when she's right.

Generous, thoughtful and funny,
She takes after her mom.
As anyone can tell,
She is quite the bomb.

Wouldn't trade her for any,
She's one-of-a-kind.
She's my little girl,
I've got quite a find.

TOP 10 HELPFUL COMEBACKS I LEARNED IN GRADE SCHOOL

1. Oh yea? Who's gonna make me?
2. I know you are, but what am I?
3. It takes one to know one!
4. You're not the boss of me!
5. Who do you think you are, my MOTHER?
6. I can if I want to!
7. Big deal!
8. Who cares!?
9. No duh!
10. I am rubber and you are glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to YOU!

TOP 10 THINGS HH TAUGHT ME

1. If you're going to wear a visor, make sure it matches your robes
2. Even enlightened beings need something to deal with the glare of the spotlight
3. Life is harder to take so seriously while wearing a visor
4. When you make a mistake, giggle, wear a visor, and say, "Oh! Sorry! I make mistake!"
5. When sitting cross legged all day, you're gonna want to sway back and forth gently to keep your butt from going numb
6. All world religions/traditions teach love, compassion, tolerance, forgiveness, peace of mind
7. There must be mutual respect, therefore, for different religions, which are fundamentally the same
8. The Buddha (literally, the awakened one) himself taught different people differently, depending on their dispositions
9. Ignorance underlies all afflictions
10. Ignorance is not an UN-knowing, but a MIS-knowing

WHEN THE STUDENT IS READY THE MASTER APPEARS

The Universe conspired to send me quickly and dramatically to San Francisco to receive teachings from the Dalai Lama. Thursday evening I was minding my own business, 12 hours later I was a world away, being instructed on Dependent Origination, what is said to be the heart of Buddhism, by His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama.

I'm sorry, perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I RECEIVED TEACHINGS FROM THE DALAI LAMA! Oh, yea, there were 4,999 others there too, but who cares, I know he was talking straight to me.

The intense and heady teachings were broken into three 2-hour sessions. Long about hour 5 1/2 my friend sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, "You realize you're in the stream, don't you? You realize you've just received teachings from THE DALAI LAMA. All that's left is for you to take refuge."

"Taking refuge...." I thought to myself. Hmmmm... What do I think about that. I decided to do the "When in Rome" thing, stop thinking with my mind, and listen with my soul.

Sticking one toe into Buddhism was fine for awhile, plenty. Then I learned that wading could be nice, too. The water was warm, nothing to bite or sting. Do I want to dive in head first? What's stopping me? What stands in my way? What part of all that is real? What part of resistance is within, and what is without? As within, so without. Emptiness. Universality of suffering. Ceasation of suffering. Confusing thoughts making my mind work harder than it comfortably can. My body though? My soul? My "being" has never felt calmer. That has to be significant.

I am sure the Universe will compassionately bring me another teacher, when I'm ready for my next teachings. I'm not sure where you go after you've been taught by THE master, but I can't wait to find out.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUZY!

HOW TO PLAY GO FISH WITH ROJO

1. Let him "shuffle".

2. Let him "deal".

3. Let him divide the "go fish" pile into as many piles as he wants - do not be concerned that they will be confused with his "books", which will also be turned face down and eerily resemble the go fish piles.

4. Pretend not to see him cheat. Pretend he is not planning what he is going to ask for, depending on what is next in the go fish pile of his choice.

5. Never get a book of Aces or Tens. Those are always his books. Always.

6. Never win. You can get up to five books, but that is all. Better if he gets all 13.

7. Everytime you ask him for a card, accept that he will say, "NO! GO FISH!" even when you know he's lying.

8. Everytime you tell him to "go fish" accept that he will say, "got one!" even though he is lying.

9. Everytime he draws a card, plug your ears, because he is going to shout, "GOTTA BOOK!"

10. Play Go Fish before meds kick in, pre-dawn, pre-caffeinated, and try not to kill him.

11. Play Go Fish after meds wear off, pre-brewski, and try not to kill him.

12. Always say, "Yes! I want to play Go Fish!" because if you don't, he'll hunt you down like a dog and not relent until you do. The sooner you say "yes", the sooner he'll cheat, win, and put you out of your misery.

MARY CHAPIN CARPENTER

The latest album I'm obsessed with is Mary Chapin Carpenter's new one, "The Calling". WOW!!!!!!!!!!! I'm especially perseverating on "On and On it Goes". Here are the lyrics:

ON AND ON IT GOES

River starts with a drop of rain
Somewhere in this world
Light years shape this arc of sky
And sand a precious pearl
And you will light a stranger's life
By letting yours unfurl
And on and on it goes
Sparks upon the wind
Like a July 4th, a crown of stars
And a good time grin
On and on it flies, on a new bird's wing
In a beating heart, the moon that rose
And the gift of spring

You can say that you'll never matter
Lose or win
The world won't care and it's hard to bear
Such a lonely wind
Buy you can change a stranger's life
By letting yours begin
And on and on it goes
Chance is everywhere
Like the train you took,
The rain that fell on the summer air
On and on it flies, like the time we've lost
It's either running out,
Or covering all our dreams in rust

Every night the TV shows
One more bad day's news
A world away from what I know
And what I do
But I could save a stranger's life
If I had a clue
And on and on it goes
Attention must be paid
Before it seems we're one soul short
And a second late
On and on it flies across the stratosphere
At the speed of love, if you stop
And feel it you will hear
On and on it goes
Sparks upon the wind
Like a July 4th, a crown of stars
And a good time grin
And on and on it flies, on a new bird's wing
In a beating heart, the moon that rose
And the gift of spring

BLACK AND WHITE AND ROJO ALL OVER

When you have a child that defies all definitions, you must do one of two things, let go of the need to "define", or expand your list of definitions. I've tried to do both. What has been most helpful to me is Buddhism. Here are a few basic concepts/vocabulary terms. Take a look...

BUDDHA
The Enlightened (or Awakened) One.

DHARMA
When spelled this way (capitalized), refers to the Teachings of the Buddha.

EIGHT-FOLD PATH
The Path of the Fourth Noble Truth: Right Understanding, Right Thinking, Right Speech, Right Attitude, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, Right Concentration.

ENLIGHTENMENT
A blessed state in which the individual transcends desire and suffering and attains Nirvana.

FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS
Suffering. Suffering has a cause. Suffering has an end. There is a path that leads to the cessation of suffering (see Eightfold Path).

KARMA
Literally, "action." Often translated "cause and effect."

METTA
Loving kindness.

METTABHAVANA - A meditation practice that develops loving kindness toward all sentient beings.

NIRVANA
Absolute extinction of suffering and its causes.

THICH NHAT HAHN
A contemporary Vietnamese Zen monk and campaigner for peace. Among other things, he has suggested a 'positive' interpretation of the Precepts: Reverence for Life, Generosity, Sexual Responsibility, Deep Listening and Loving Speech, and Mindful Consumption.

THREE UNWHOLESOME ROOTS
three conditions that determine the moral quality of unskillful volitional actions, viz. greed (lobha), hate (dosa) and delusion (moha). Sometimes translated in other ways, e.g. lust, ill-will and ignorance.

THREE WHOLESOME ROOTS
three conditions that determine the moral quality of skillful volitional actions, viz. non-greed, non-hate and non-delusion.

For more handy definitions click here .



Enlightenment Mandala

BEAUTY



Dreamed last night I was in high school, trying to remember my locker combination (I've got Dyscalculia, remember!) and suddenly there was a stranger trying to open his adjacent locker. He asked, "Do you always wear gowns to school?"

I looked down and noticed indeed, I was quite dressed up, which is really funny considering as I write this I am on day 2 of the same clothes, no shower, slept in these even, and am seriously considering finding the right hat to pull the whole outfit off again today!

I did put a lot of time and effort into what I wore and how I looked in high school. Funny. I've never been thinner, less grey, less wrinkled, less saggy, and yet I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to be beautiful! Now? Ummmm... again, just need the right hat and I'm good!

Beauty in high school is skin deep. Now I finally believe the old addage, "Pretty is as pretty does." The humans and muppets I consider beautiful now, are the ones that I admire, respect and seek to emulate. Botox? Hair color? Liposuction? I say if they make you feel better about yourself, then go for it, if you don't feel good about yourself, you're no good to others. But, that's the key, I think, do it for YOURSELF.

The dream ended with that stranger coming over to my house where I promptly put on an old flannel nightgown and said, "So? Still think I'm all that?" He didn't. I didn't care. I've made a lot of progress, at least when I'm asleep!

My friend Toeless just sent this to me. It made this non-cryer cry. Get ready to have your whole life re-evaluated! Be sure to watch the 4 minute video! It will do you in!

Please read the attached story and then watch the video. So when you think things are tough realize that you CAN accomplish anything.
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay For their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in Marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a Wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and Pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back Mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. On a bike. Makes Taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester , Mass. , 43 years ago, when Rick Was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him Brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him And his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an Institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes Followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the Engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was Anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain.''

"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a Lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed Him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his Head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the School organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want To do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran More than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he Tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was sore For two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, It felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly Shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a Single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few Years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then They found a way to get into the race Officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the Qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he Was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick Tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii . It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud Getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you Think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with A cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best Time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world Record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to Be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the Time.

``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a Mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries Was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' One doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.'' So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass. , always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

And the video is below....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4B-r8KJhlE

TWO MORE BEHIND THE SCENES LOOK AT ROJO

SCENE I:

Rojo: Mom! You are not following directions! I said WAFFLES! Not THAT syrup, the OTHER syrup! Not THAT fork, the OTHER kind of fork!

Me: You're SOOOOOOO bossy! What makes you think YOU get to be the boss?

Rojo: DUH! It says so on my UNIFORM (done in the voice of Josh from "Drake and Josh" TV show)!


SCENE 2:

I go to my desk and see that Rojo has defied the rule to NOT TOUCH MY DESK PERIOD! Pens without caps, long strips of staples separated and everywhere, tape unrolled and stuck to important papers, Sharpie writing on notes that I can no longer read, I'm about to fume, when out of the corner of my eye I find a Post-It note. It's my "stickies" that say, "I meditate. I burn candles. I drink green tea... and still I want to smack someone." On there he has written in his scrawl, "ROJO AND MOM."

Drat, foiled again!

THAT WHOLE HEAVEN AND HELL "THING"

I'm not a theologist, but I play one on TV! Fortunately for you people, I think I know everything, and am all too happy to share each and every opinion of mine, freely with you! Worth every penny, always!

Two of the most amazing explanations of heaven have come from things I've recently read. Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love tells of her Indonesian medicine man explaining to her that heaven is seven levels of consciousness up to love. I get that. What I had a harder time reconciling was his definition of hell, seven levels down in consciousness, also to love.

Perhaps the purest definition comes from the clear thinking of an autistic child. Read this and prepare to ponder! Let me know what you think!

DELAYED GRATIFICATION

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. We frown on those individuals that don't know how to delay their gratification. We call them impulsive, impetuous, immature, pain-in-the-asses.

We are taught to put-off our gratification until "later."

I would hate living in a society where everyone did whatever the hell they want, whenver they want, just WHENEVER, but "later"? Would you please tell me exactly when "later" is? It's kind of like "tomorrow", it never comes.

For me, and most everyone I know, we over-learned the lesson of delayed gratification. My dad died with gifts still in cellophane, the dog he always wanted but never got, the house needing a complete "face lift" but never getting one... Later, later, later DEAD!!!!

"Someday I'm going to paint/write/travel..." I hear.

Tomorrow, someday, later, they are arbitrary nothings. You are the boss of your life, not arbitrary nothings. Don't put off gratification until it's too late!

FUNNIEST THING I HEARD ALL DAY...

A friend's son in speech pathology, struggling with "l" words, is shown a picture.

"Light," instructs the speech path.

He looks at her confused.

"Light," she prods.

Turning the card upside down he corrects her, "That's not a light, that's a martini!"

MORE FUN THAN A BARREL OF MONKEYS
Subtitled: Don't You Wish You Lived At Our House?

Just came across this excellent list of common learning "differences" (we don't say disabilities, they are differences). Check, check, check! We have them all going on here! I take FULL credit for being the one with Dyscalculia! If you've ever enjoyed a drive with me or had the thrill of travelling with me, you know what I'm talking about. Don't even get me going on my math phobia/anxiety/panic/shame!


DYSLEXIA is primarily used to describe difficulty with language proeessing and its impact on reading, writing, and spelling.

DYSGRAPHIA is the difficulty in expressing thoughts in writing and graphing.

DYSCALCULIA involves difficulty with math, the abstract concepts of time and direction and sometimes the location of the numbers on the face of a clock and/or the geographical locations of states, countries, oceans, streets, etc.


AUDITORY DISCRIMINATION is necessary to "break the code" for reading. It involves being able to perceive the differences between speech sounds, and to sequence these sounds into meaningful words.

VISUAL PERCEPTION addresses the ability to notice important details and assign meaning to what is seen.

NONVERBAL LEARNING DISORDERS (NLD) is primarily used to describe an inability to comprehend nonverbal communications, difficulties adjusting to transitions and novel situations, and deficits in social judgment and social interaction.

ATTENTION DEFICIT (HYPERACTIVITY) DISORDER (ADD/ADHD) may co-occur with learning disabilities. Features can include: marked over-activity, distractibility, and/or impulsivity and inattention.

Thinking this all through, I can identify just about everyone I know with one or another of these, which begs the question, "What is 'normal'?"

I'M MELLLLLLLLTTTTTTTTIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG...

1) Sit on Daddy's bed in the master bedroom and watch "Bewitched".
2) When it's over it's time to walk myself down to afternoon kindergarten, three blocks straight from my house to Frances Willard Elementary School.
3) See Marty Hathaway on the playground, waiting for the doors to open.
4) Watch him flap his arms, close his eyes and shrink down to the ground pretending to be the Wicked Witch of the West from the "Wizard of Oz".
5) Listen to him say, "I'm mellllltttttiiiiinnnnggggggg" all the way into the classroom and most of the afternoon.
6) Repeat every day of kindergarten, first, second, third, fourth, and fifth grade.
7) Always wonder what happened to Marty Hathaway.

You know you've hit the big time when your book shows up at Target!

Congratulations, Monica! You've ARRIVED!!!!!

THE YELLOW COUCH

Got a really interesting question posted on my blog today...

Anonymous said...

"This is amazing but not surprising. I truly believe that the world needs to hear your voice via the yellow couch as a perfect medium. But what will be your message...? because some will want to limit or eliminate these babies, children, teens, adults...and aren't we enriched by the likes of Rojo???"

Indeed. No question the world is better with more Rojos in it. Rojo is a HAPPY, JOYFUL, PAIN-FREE child. We need much more of these. I wouldn't wish the suffering of so many autistics on anyone. Anyone. I don't want to eliminate "special" children at all, but suffering, I'm all for eliminating that.

Like some of the parents on the Oprah interview, what I wish for is more compassion. That is the single biggest gift Rojo has given me, profound compassion. Loss of judgment. Much more patience. Much more "letting go". Although one of the Noble Truths is "There is suffering," I still strive to bring the antidote to suffering. These kids hold the secret to the antidote. They are here to teach all of us, if we'll learn, that truly, love, peace and compassion are all that matter. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

Once upon a time there was a little girl that lived in a house full of crazy people. The little girl read books. The books took her head out of the house with crazy people, and into the minds of others.

In junior high the girl read an obscure book, For the Love of Anne, a book about a family struggling to raise a daughter with autism. The girl was fascinated with this disorder, and never quite forgot that book.

In high school the girl had to write a term paper. Long before computers, this girl fought with Liquid Paper and poor typing skills, and turned in 10 pages of research on the subject of autism. In 1980 there wasn't a lot of information on autism, the girl read all that her library had.

The girl went to college and eventually became a teacher. She found she had a propensity for the "special" kids, the ones nobody else wanted in their classrooms. She tended to get more than her share of the discipline problems and the "slow and low" kids.

Eventually the girl became a woman and had children of her own. She continued to teach part-time, until such a time that her own child, her youngest, a son, was diagnosed as both slow and low. With each diagnosis came more inherent therapies the woman realized she alone was responsible for carrying out.

Words like Pervasive Developmental Delay and Autism were thrown around, then dismissed. Autism- with that "aut" for "auto=self" did not truly define her son. Although he certainly had the speech delays/communication issues, the "off" social skills and plenty of repetitive/odd behaviors, this boy was NOT about "self". This threw him out of the Autistic Spectrum Disorder into No-Man's Land. He remains to this day, the boy with 8 different diagnosis but no syndrome.

This woman noticed a fascinating trend, everyone around her was starting to have one of "these" kids, too.

"It HAS to be the water!" some said.

"The east side of Portland is worse than the west side," she heard.

"They're looking at the wrong generation," some felt. "They should be looking at OUR generation, the mothers and fathers. It was all that Tang and Space Sticks we ate growing up."

More questions than answers came up. Soon the woman was hard-pressed to think of one single family she knew that DIDN'T have a "weird kid" of some sort.

Again the woman hit the books. With the advent of the Internet she found herself able to research anytime and all the time. She did.

The woman still continues to learn. She knows that every 20 minutes a child in the US is diagnosed with autism. Autism is epidemic. They know there is both a genetic predispostion/susceptibility, as well as an environmental "trigger(s)". What the trigger is/isn't is highly controversial. Read my friend Michelle O'Neil's blog for much more on that subject.

The woman now is much more interested in what to do about these kids, than in what made them this way in the first place. She appreciates that there are those tireless souls doing that for her, so she can focus on preparing for the epidemic to hit the school systems, HARD. Schools are ill-equiped to deal with this epidemic. Schools that are equipped are small and expensive, and not an alternative to most. The woman knows it is one part of her calling to be on that end of this situation. These kids aren't going away. They are going to be hitting our systems in droves. It will force an educational revolution. Teachers will HAVE to teach differently. "Other people" will HAVE to look at disabilities differently. Progress will HAVE to be made in how we fund these expensive kids (estimated $10 Million to provide for an autistic person's lifetime expenses/care). Our justice system will have to be re-educated and re-structured. Our healthcare system will need a re-vamp. Our environmental awareness will need a big push.

Autism is a bigger health/public crisis than breast cancer or AIDS. We all ARE affected by it already, some just much more up close and personal. Fortunately, I read this from the Dalia Lama, and I have high hopes that our world will meet the challenge. We are in a renaissance of sorts, profound shifts, for the better, are being forced because of these kids. It's a great time to be alive and part of the revolution taking place!

"The world in general... is changing for the better. In recent times there is definitely a greater awareness and appreciation for peace, nonviolence, democracy, justice and environmental protection. The recent unprecendented response from governments and individuals across the world to the tsunami disaster victims reaffirms that the world is truly interdependent and the importance of universal responsibility."

Again, I'm so appreciative that Oprah did a show last week on autism. Can't wait to sit on that yellow couch and tell her in person!

I GET BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY MOM

3 weeks ago...

"Mom, we're going to celebrate Easter and Dode's (my mother-in-law) birthday at my house. Do you want to come and bring a Jell-O salad?"

I am handing her a gift on a silver platter. She ADORES Jell-O salads. No holiday meal is complete without a Jell-O salad. Less than 1/2 of us will touch Jell-O, but nonetheless, it's a staple.

1 week ago...

"Where's that recipe for the Jell-O salad everyone likes at Thanksgiving?"

I show her the recipe.

"Oh, my goodness, SO much sugar! Do you use all that sugar? There's already sugar in the Jell-O, you know! I think I'll make one with less sugar. None of us need all that sugar."

"Sounds great. Make whichever recipe you'd like."

This morning...

"I know you're not answering the phone because you don't recognize my cell number on your Caller ID. You really ought to write this number down somewhere so when I call you'll know it's me calling. I hardly use this thing, I don't even know the number myself, but when there's an emergency, I need you to recognize the number when it comes up."

I check the time, 9:24, the call came in at 9:11 (how appropos). I had the hairdryer on, didn't hear the phone ring. Called "the" number immediately...

"Oh good, it's YOU! I'm sitting in the Safeway parking lot waiting for your call! I didn't want to drive ALL the way (3/4 mile) back home since I've just been to church and the church is practically next door to Safeway. The Jell-O salad I made for the brunch is a disaster. I'll just pick up something at Safeway and bring that."

"Great."

"Potato salad?"

"No - we've got a hot potato dish."

"Green salad?"

"Got that too. Why don't you just not worry about it, we'll be fine with what we've got."

"No. I want to bring something."

"OK, how about fruit?"

"Fruit. Yes. I'll bring fruit."

(And Vodka, I pray silently to myself. Lots and lots of Vodka.)

IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW...

While sprinkling extra garlic salt on his already heavily salted sourdough toast, kicking the breakfast bar wildly, humming and higher than a kite from having already eaten 1 lb. of Easter candy, Rojo says...

"Mom? Duh! It's not the Easter Bunny that puts out all the eggs!"

"It's not?"

"No!"

"Who is it, then?"

"Duh! It's his DAD!"

"The Easter Bunny's dad?"

"Duh! His name is Deevohn"

A DREAM COME TRUE FOR WORD LOVERS!

To answer all those pesky grammar questions, go here: Grammar Girl

TOP 10 GREAT THINGS ABOUT TODAY

1. Gorgeous weather
2. Long walk with great friend in gorgeous weather. Solved all the world's problems.
3. Planted flowers in the gorgeous weather, now planters look gorgeous
4. Lady that rear-ended us called to see how we're all doing, and thank us for being so nice to her
5. Oprah did a show on Autism and now the world will re-calibrate accordingly. 1 in 87 boys has Autism. Not enough can be made of this.
6. I listened to beautiful music and filled all the plastic Easter eggs today instead of what I was "supposed to do"
7. I took an hour and a half nap instead of doing what I was "supposed to do" today
8. My husband had a business meeting that went really well today, "when" he gets this project, lots of exciting things will happen for him and for us
9. I tried to park at the grocery store but a wayward cart was in the way and a stranger dropped their groceries to move it for me.
10. I'm really liking the word "gorgeous" - it makes me happy.

NO ACCIDENTS

I'm always saying, "There are no accidents!" So I'm going to have to say that when we were rear-ended yesterday, it wasn't an accident. It was an incident. If I had a nickel for every time the four of us are all in the car together, I'd have myself about ten cents. Yet, yesterday we were. All four of us on the freeway off-ramp at 9:15 AM on the Monday morning following Spring Break. Ironically, we'd just stopped for gas and to put air in a leaky tire, as to avoid any trouble along the way.

The cars in front of us stopped suddenly, my husband stopped quickly but the Prius behind us didn't react in time. She stopped only when the impact from our car drove her engine within inches of her steering wheel. Two air bags and a seat belt later, she walked out of the car injury-free. The four of us, 4 seat belts later, also walked away without a scratch.

Could have been worse. Could have been much, much worse. Everyone was insured, we already have our car in for 3 weeks of body work, and a rental car. Nothing more than a minor inconvenience on a Monday morning.

There are no accidents!

INSIGHT FROM HIS HOLINESS

"Emptiness should be understood in the context of dependent arising and it should evoke a sense of fullness, of things created by causes and condidtions. We shouldn't think that self is something that is originally there and then eliminated in meditation; in fact, it is something that never existed in the first place."

TOUCHY, TOUCHY!

I'm not a big toucher. I'm fine with the hugs, handshakes, the occasional pat on the back, but I wouldn't describe myself as a touchy person. If I could erect an invisible fence, like dogs have, in my king-sized bed, I'd give my husband a zap every time he dared to let a toe move over the line. Beds are for sleeping. How's a person supposed to sleep when someone else is in their space? I totally don't get that.

My kids' shrink says humans were meant to sleep together. We sleep better snuggled up next to someone. I don't know what the hell he's talking about. This has never sounded like a good idea to me. What with the moving, the bad breath, all the other things bodies do when they relax, no thanks.

Last week I was treated to a massage. It was a gift from a friend. I've had a few massages in my life, always a pleasant experience, some better than others, but always a nice thing. This one was different, though. This massage therapist had the most amazing "touch." She never spoke. I never spoke. Everything was communicated through touch. As the massage transitioned form one stage to another, she took my limbs and so carefully and gracefully tucked them back into the blankets. There was such grace. Such tenderness. Such "touch." Perhaps had I experienced more of this kind of touch in my life, I'd have grown up liking it.

So much damage, so much good can come from our touch. I'm thinking I've not made enough of this phenomenon. I'm thinking it's time to get in touch with that.