sublime speaks

I have a huge heart. It matches my ass. In fact, when people talk about heart-shaped asses, I always respond with “Oh, I have one of those, except mine is upside down.” Self deprecation is one of my favorite past times. It is a gift. I am the Queen Bee of poking fun at myself.

I now realize why I do it – I like to see people smile. Laughter is my fuel. Joy is my favorite drug.

Yesterday, I popped over to Trader Joe’s to pick up some fun treats for a birthday and was playing in the flowers and one of the employees greeted me with the usual “How are you today?” and I responded, as I always do, “Amazing!” We both went about our business and when I was bee bopping around the store, he approached me and said “I have to ask, why you’re so happy.” He seemed genuinely interested and he explained that my response to his question had him smiling. I told him that I loved that he came to ask me. And that I decided a long time ago that when people asked me that question, even if I felt like punching somebody in the throat, I would say it with a smile on my face. Saying it out loud had changed MY mood because of the response that I got from people. I shared that I could say I am cold, tired, exhausted, sick, or kvetch about the rain, or I could consciously choose to offer something healthy and kind. I went on to say that I almost always have people immediately respond “That’s awesome!” or “I love that.” That immediately makes me feel lighter and happier. It’s instant gratification from an experience with a stranger that leaves us both feeling some element of joy.

When I checked out he and his boss were getting my cashier some change. He said “She is the one I was talking about.” and we all started chit chatting about why it is okay for people to complain to complete strangers regularly. It was an amazing exchange. Truly, I left that store feeling like I had enjoyed a kind of impromptu spirit rally of sorts. I loaded up my truck and the original guy came jogging out to my truck with a gorgeous lavender bush with a scribbled note tucked in it. He simply said “Read the note and have a stellar day!”, and headed back in.

The note simply said “Thank you. You have reminded us the value of kindness and we will be sharing this at our next team meeting. Warmly, The TJ’s Crew.

I stood there, stunned. Then I plucked off one flowerets of the lavender, and rubbed it back and forth between my hands and enjoyed the scent of that glorious, loving morning with people whose names I do not even know. Pretty damn cool.

That stayed with me all day yesterday. I would get a whiff of the plant oil on my wrist or walk by it on my kitchen counter and smile and truly felt blessed. What good people to act on their feelings. It literally made my day beyond exceptional.

I have little things like this happen a lot. I come home to find treasures left for me on my front bench with little love notes attached that simply say “thinking of you”, “love you” and yes, sometimes “thank you”. I often get a letter or card in the mail that is like a long distance hug. Beautiful.

I have learned a valuable lesson in this past year. I now know that when I am feeling low or grumpy, I allow myself that time to feel it. If I am tired, I give myself a little extra time. Then I mentally check of the things in my life that I am grateful for. It is like a pop quiz. I find when I focus on gratitude, remaining pissed off or hurt, is almost impossible. Don’t get me wrong, I have my days that I am committed to being a bitch. I stay home those days. I hide. I remove myself from civilization as best I am able to. And it is in those times I reach out, usually via email, to my core group and say “I’m struggling and this is why.” Often, just putting it out there makes me feel better. Because I am blessed with some of the most loving human beings in the world, I am inundated with emails, calls, texts that remind me of my value. The goodness that is my world. One friend simply called because he said “I wanted you to hear my voice. I got your back.” They all, collectively, reeled me back in, and I felt whole again.

I try to keep things light. I am an emotional soul. Sensitive, and caring, and have been told that I feel things deeper than others. I used to hate that. I wanted to be the tough one. I wanted to not care. But I now know that the best parts of me and my life come from that soft spot. You have to take the good with the bad. All I want is World Peace. Doesn’t seem like to much to ask, right?

My weapon of choice is humor. I love it all. Truly, any kind of joke about any thing and any one, makes me laugh. It offends many people. They tell me so. I respect that. I also know that there is a distinct difference between joking about something and truly believing in it. Those that know me, even a little bit, know I do not tolerate hate. I will defend anyone, of any walk of life, that needs support. I know my moral compass. I have been judged, harshly, and I know it is because I am hitting some live nerve in that person and I can only hope they will dig deep and think about what it is that I said that really made them angry. I have to do that myself, and it always comes back to something I do not necessarily care for in my person. Brutal, but true.

This past 6 months has been insane. Literally, over the top craziness. I have friends who are fighting cancer or their children are fighting for their lives. This week alone, one friend’s baby nephew died. Another friend’s son was stabbed. A dear girlfriend sent me a private message saying that her “all is well” email she sent to all of us wasn’t really true. Her Pet Scan came back with a spot on her back and the cancer seems to be spreading. Another friend’s nephew stepped on an IED and at best, if he makes it, he will be blind, lose one of his legs and faces months of grueling procedures in a burn unit.

I can only hold each of them in my heart and ask the Universe to keep the positive, healthy energy going to these families. Focus on goodness. Give of yourself in any way that you can, every single day.

I believe in loving kindness and generosity. I steep in gratefulness for so many things and people, the list is endless. It keeps on growing at an alarming rate of speed. I exist in a tsunami of joy.

I will leave you with the only joke I can remember. The only thing I retain is water.

“What did one lesbian frog say to the other lesbian frog?”

“You know, we really DO taste like chicken!”

Peace and love to each of you.

I truly do not know where to begin, but I feel the need for my words to be on paper. Please bear with me. Yes, the woman of strong emotions and definitive answers requests your forbearance and patience. It has been a big year.

If I may paint you a picture of my immediate surroundings. Debussy’s in the background accompanied by a temperate fire in my hearth with a wet log sizzling on a hot coal bed. Tonight, it’s tempo is perfectly matched to my deep gratitude and gentle pace.

Today was a day steeped in authentic goodness. For the first time in my life, I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated thankfulness. It has been a day of wonderment and taking stock in all that has transpired in one short year.

I have grown. I am becoming the woman I always hoped I would be. I am taking actions that scare, enthrall, and sometimes leave me breathless. In the summer between seventh and eighth grade I experienced the physical pain of feeling my bones stretch at an alarming rate and became long, quickly. This past year has lent itself to a spiritual and emotional growth of similar magnitude.

Somehow, in this glorious path of life, I am privileged to be surrounded with a stunning array of good people who held me through this journey. They wrapped their arms around my family, their hearts around our bruised ones and promised it would one day be better. Today is that day of fruition. Today, I felt it all gently slide into place.

Change. It is something I have embraced from an early age and continue to respect and welcome. I now know, even in its tumultuous moments, that the shift of growing pains brings a spiritual garden so prolific with vibrant color, that I will end up standing in awe again and again. Life is good indeed.

This past month I had the privilege of having Thanksgiving dinner at my soon to be ex husband’s home with our daughter. Seeing her run into his arms and witnessing their mutual adoration of one another made my heart full. Having him cook us a stunning meal and seat us at the table was a glorious reminder of how hard he and I have worked to come to a place of loving kindness. I was proud. I felt nothing but joy. I was present in that moment and dined with two people who will always be in my life and will always be treasures to me. Blessed does not begin to cover it. I felt illuminated.

If I could, I would change our American calendar. Simply for the pace of the holidays that roll like thunder through autumn and the beginning of winter. I wish Halloween was mid September and Thanksgiving was on October thirty-first. Then we could all roll into the next spiritual and emotional holidays in December with something stronger than sea legs. The pace seems to water it all down. The fervor and intensity, perhaps, would allow us all to breathe a bit. It seems reckless at this pace. But, they don’t ask me.

I have the pleasure, through social media, to enjoy the lives of so many, and it keeps me thinking. What am I most grateful for. Wow. Where to begin…

Garlic in olive oil on the stove top. My dog lying on her side moaning while I scratch her belly. The beautiful differences in all of my friendships. Swearing. Making my mom laugh until she begs me to stop. Wood burning fires. The perfect crack in my back that makes oxygen roll through my body. A small bite of chocolate to savor and let melt in my mouth like a secret. People holding doors open for one another. My daughters skin. Clean sheet night. Ave Maria. True sports fans that feel their players victories and tragic losses. A full tank of gas. Talking with a stranger until they become a friend. Unsolicited generosity. Fresh flowers. Make believe. Truth. Seat warmers in vehicles. Spa days that leave you feeling as long as you are supposed to be. The sadness that comes with ending an exceptional read. Agreeing to disagree. Handwritten letters. Comedic moments that you will quote for decades. Wood matches. Challenging yourself to face a fear. Touch. Meeting people who inspire you. Jammies fresh out of the dryer. Witnessing elderly couples hold hands. Lazy Sundays. Receiving a call from an old friend out of the blue. Dedication. Finding that perfect song on the radio that matches your mood. The gift of giving a genuine apology. Experiencing an unexpected and riveting learning. Thoughtfulness. A cup of steaming tea in a china cup and saucer.

Surprising people with our presence. The color of clouds during a full moon. Live music. Amazing neighbors. Motorcycles on gorgeously curving roads. Soil and all it brings us. Breakfast for dinner. A blissful nights sleep. Being frightened to stand up for what you feel is right and doing it anyway. Eggs over easy on perfectly toasted bread. Pushing yourself physically. Getting to an age where you realize how hard your parents have worked for you. Lying down under an oak tree in the grass. The perfectly timed vacation. Making someone feel loved. Semi smashed PB&J’s in your backpack. Levity. Finding money in your pocket. Blisters on your hands from yard work. Living the life you want to live.

I am scaling back for Christmas. I still insist on doing cards. I find that “happy mail” is sliding to the wayside and I have no intention of being a contributor to the lost art of paper in hands. I am, however, cooling it on the excessive baking, decorating, and party throwing and attending. I’ve even waxed a week right before the holidays to hit Kauai and go wiggle my toes in the sand and let myself reflect on my year while hiking and body surfing. I’ll come home to my folks and daughter, and yes, my ex husband, so that we can all wake up to watch the 5 year olds wonderment of how that jolly man gets those toys down the chimney while there’s a fire, and how he really does seem to enjoy cookies with a proper pint of Guinness. Bed head, caffeine, cinnamon rolls and insane paper shredding with family. Pretty cool.

I wish each of  you a month of this same pace of peace. Fill December with things, people and events that fill your spirit. Turn the television off and put some great music on. Drink buttered rums and chase your friends with mistletoe. If you have a fireplace – use it. Laugh at yourself. Drop your shoulders back down to where they are supposed to be and take a few deep breaths. Choose gratitude and give of yourself. Be kind. Let someone cut in line. And above all, make it the best holiday season you have ever had, because we just never know about next year until it’s here. Bank on this one. It’s the one that counts. Salute.

This is the only bumper sticker I will ever have on any vehicle I drive. It has ignited too many amazing conversations for me to count. It intrigues and attracts. It is my daily mantra.

I just got back from a 4 day birthday party for one of my best friends from college. We agreed to meet at baggage claim and there, we screamed and hugged and kissed and laughed and squeezed each other again with a sea of people quietly staring at us. We don’t do this for any sort of attention, we have just learned in our 40 plus years that joy is something that should be expressed openly. Watch 5 year olds get together for a play date. They do it right.

People will think what they want, and there isn’t one thing we can do about that. What we can do is feel life’s pleasures deeply. So my question to you is: When did we stop skipping? And even more importantly, why?

This past trip included skydiving, pig roasting, laughing and trick or treating in full costume in June. Sometimes you just have to let go of how you may be perceived and wrap your arms around a fantastic opportunity.

I hear a lot about how hard people’s lives are. And I can guarantee you, that the people who have it the hardest seem to shine the most light in my life. Complaining about the weather, Mondays, co-workers, the opposite sex, and drivers is a waste of oxygen to me. Mother Nature is in charge – Period. Mondays happen every 7 days – count on it. Relationships and people operating heavy machinery are always going to be tricky.

Now here is where I need to clarify something. I can be as grouchy as the next cat. I have my days where the world feels a bit heavier on my shoulders. I know when I need to hunker down at home and keep my bitchiness to myself. I know this because I can barely stand to be in my skin on those days.

This past weekend while I giggled and played I got word that a very dear friend passed away. She fought with a zeal and determination that I can only sit in awe of. I had the pleasure of visiting with her in So Cal 2 weeks before she died. The entire visit she asked about me. My life. What was I up to. How was my daughter? She held my hand and we laughed and she just lit up the room and continued to love and give even though her body was failing her. Finding out she was pain-free was a comfort. Knowing that she lost her battle and that one of the most amazing people who I have ever had the pleasure of being loved by was a victim of cancer really pissed me off.

I carved out some time to have my cry, feel my anger and sadness and then wiped my tears and went and did a cannonball in their pool. I think she would have liked that.

I am fairly certain that people who know me on the periphery think I’m all fluff. They see all my silliness and assume that I am a goofball that doesn’t “deal” with life. I know this because a few of them have been brave enough to tell me. I respect their candor and figure that they haven’t bothered to see past my silly exterior and they don’t deserve my depth. I know this because I have been told that it’s time for me to “grow up”.  If being grown up means being a myopic, unsmiling, judgmental human being – I’ll pass.

I can tell you that I have not had the easiest life. I have survived some horrific experiences. I have worked very hard, and will always have to stay focused on my goal to not let fear rule my life. Accepting to be the victim of anything is honoring the bully. That just isn’t an option for me.

I work hard. I do just about everything in my life fully and deeply. I just don’t share all of my hardships and heart breaks with everyone. I can complain, or I can offer sunshine. I can share the heartbreak of this past year of the broken pieces of my marriage, or I can show my daughter that each day is a treasure. I opt for Curtain #2.

Yes, I love laughter. Hell it’s FREE! You’ll often hear about the cost of living. Well, start that list of everything that is free that’ll fill up your Spiritual bank account. Hugs, kisses, smiles, compliments, waving, winking..The list is endless. When people ask me how I’m doing I have one standard answer – “fantastic!” I cannot express to you how many times people are taken aback and then respond with something positive in return. Joy is contagious. It’s the happy disease.

Joie de vivre is letting out whoops of delight. It is one of the most delicious choices we can make every day. Think about what you are offering the world and every single person you come across. You never know how you are impacting a person’s life. Choose gentleness and laughter. When you’re sitting in traffic or in a long line at the grocery store, compliment the person in front of you, or be the person in your car that is singing and dancing while you see in that parking lot of a highway.

Somebody has to be the line leader. Go for it.

Somewhere along the way, the Holidays have gotten really nutty. Easter is no exception. The combo of Spring’s Promise, coupled with too many Peeps, is a cocktail for disaster.

Most stressful experiences affect me the same way – I suffer from giggle fits. I did it for many years at church, ask Father Devereux. It is an effective and heart lifting coping mechanism for uncomfortable situations.

Like many things, I appreciate the traditional vein of the big holidays and squint through the religious parts. I still love coloring eggs. I am slightly obsessed with the options. And in all honesty,  if I have masking tape and a razor blade, have been known to spend hours on one egg’s design. Go with brown eggs for colors that are breathtaking – white eggs for crisp details. I am also perfectly happy eating the multicolored stained hard-boiled egg whites for days after. I am down with art I can eat.

My rendition of “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” is not my daughter’s favorite. I channel Ethel Merman and I throw it down hard. “Hippity Hoppity Easter’s Onnnnn It’s Waaaaaaaaaay!” My daughter tries desperately to not encourage me by giggling with her shirt pulled up over her mouth. I am unstoppable. She is a captured audience as she is not old enough to drive away. I used to do the same thing on airplanes – ask my friends.

You would think we would learn after that whole Thanksgiving/Christmas debacle, but no…. By Spring, we are hopeful (forgetful?) again. It is a time of rebirth. It is a time for ham.

The stressors of Easter are many. The huge meal right before bikini season. Seriously. That’s diabolical. The wearing of white and other medicine colored attire when you know you are a messy family and you will never make it to picture time without a red wine stain. My mother will tell you I petitioned hard for a red dress for my wedding day. I know my limitations. Trying to stay sober while you bury yourself in scalloped potatoes is asking too much. The litany of debates on jellybeans? Personally, I think they are nasty. Jellybeans are the candy corn of Easter. The cilantro of summer. You either love them or you don’t. But I digress.

The best parts of Easter, as with any holiday that Hallmark has gang banged, are the reactions of the children.

My daughter had one concern a couple of years back and she made a good point: How was the Easter Bunny going to find her when she lived in Colorado but was staying in a hotel in California? She found her Easter Basket behind the shower curtain in the bathtub of our 27th floor cubicle. She still talks about how smart He (Peter Cottontail, not Jesus) is.

Last year one of my best girlfriend’s (also a Recovered Roman Catholic) and her family stayed with us in the Mountains. We were Lent-Free and feeling cocky. After the kids had gone to bed and the parents hit the cocktails harder, we assembled the baskets while we crunched on malted milk eggs. I was happy enough with the loot but I wasn’t vibing that Easter energy. It was lacking that fuzzy magic. I stumbled back to the kitchen and came back giggling with a freshly opened bottle of bubbly, a bowl of flour and three cotton balls. And then I started tagging.

Those kids freaked out the next morning when they saw the “snowy” paw prints everywhere. In fact, they were almost as surprised as I was at the  result of a couple of cups of flour fueled by Veuve. Sure it was everywhere, but their faces were priceless! Messes trump decorum when you’re standing in for someone as big as the Easter Bunny.

Listening to their screams from the top of the stairs as they raced through the house helping one another hunt for their baskets of sugary goodness, we smiled through our headaches. Their folks lounging downstairs in their robes and sweats in various states of hangover around the kitchen island, sipping on recovery Bloody Marys. It was all very 1950′s. The only Resurrection that was going down at 9,000 feet was 4 parents who thought they were rock stars the evening before.

Make the mess. Turn your kids onto better chocolate in lieu of bigger chocolate. Build smores with that decapitated chocolate bunny head and shriek “Bunny Brains!” when they take the first bite and it drips all over them.  It is exceptional. It’s gooey magic.

The coup de gras? Leave chocolate covered raisins for bunny droppings around the plate of carrots and a proper pint of Guinness on your counter.  Santa gets a plate, the Hopping Hare needs a snack as well. He is a solo show. Treat him right.