Tag Archives: choices

Need Something Lost? I’ve found your answer.

11 Nov

lost

Ever since my daughter Maria was little, she has had the perfect knack for losing things. Keys, parts, phones, money, hearing aids, the other shoe, clothes, documents, you name it, Maria has lost them. And sometimes never to be found.

One year, in autumn, she lost my keys. We searched high and low, tore the house apart. Never found them. In December, I was removing the pumpkin from the porch, getting ready to replace it with Christmas decorations, guess what we found behind the little orange sphere? My keys. What were they doing THERE??? One of life’s mysteries, I guess.
Yesterday she was in the kitchen, looking for the honey.

“It’s over there, behind the burners on the stove, next to the olive oil,” I told her. She retrieved the jar and slathered some honey on her cornbread.
Last night I wanted the honey for my tea. I looked behind the burners on the stove, the kitchen table, the counters. Not there. I searched the cabinet where the spices are kept. No honey. I looked in the pantry. Nope. The fridge? Could she have? Honey doesn’t go in the fridge, I’ve told her over and over, because it crystallizes and hardens…nah, not there either, good.

I checked where the pots and pans go, the plates and cups, even checked the dishwasher. You never know. I looked in the living room. Not a trace. Her bedroom? Fear gripped me as I thought of venturing into her room. Cautiously, I opened the door (lest any of the debris leak out), poked my head in, and a quick visual search from the doorway revealed no honey jar there either. Whew. I exhaled deeply and shut the door. The bathroom? Could she have???? I won’t tell you what I did find there, but thankfully honey was not on that gross list.
I decided then that God only wanted me to put lemon in my tea last night, no honey, dear. This lesson has been learned over the years, that my attachment to things need not be more important than my relationship with my daughter. When she was very young (and still sometimes today), I would freak out. “Where did she put that? How could she have lost it? What happened? What the hell is going on?”

There were times when I yelled and screamed and blamed Maria for her carelessness and forgetfulness. Folly of course, because she probably inherited these traits from me. The stress I caused was unbearable sometimes. Over the years I learned that it did no good to yell at Maria, on the contrary, it was counterproductive in the extreme. The anxiety of the loss of something would transfer to her developing psyche and the damage was evident. The forgetfulness increased. The losses mounted. Unhappiness and chaos reigned. Fortunately I sought counsel from people I trust. I realized that things can be replaced, but my children’s well-being could be irreparably damaged by a mother on the warpath. I am learning to let go of my attachment to things, and instead value the quality of how I nurture my children. I aim for progress, not perfection in this arena. But over the years, we’ve gotten better both at being organized and at letting go.

 
This morning Maria rifled through the kitchen looking for something to eat, and again asked,  “Mom, where is the honey?”

I reminded her that she was the last one to use our favorite sweetener, I had no idea where she could’ve stashed it, and my search had proven fruitless.
We were both in the kitchen laughing hysterically then. She’ll finish high school next year, and we’ve been examining career options. Hey, Maria could work for the Mafia, no, nothing illegal. What about the CIA? If they need something “Lost,” just hand it over to Maria, the world’s official “Hider.” She’ll hide it so well that even she can’t find it. They can torture her, won’t matter, because she CANNOT remember, it’s like it never happened. “Honey? What honey? We had honey? I like honey!” Just keep swimming, Maria.

Maria came into the kitchen as I was writing. She sauntered over to the refrigerator for water. And guess what? She found the honey, hiding behind her sister’s leftovers. Another day here.

Advertisements

Dream Journey

10 Oct

my-sunset

I was on a big ship with others and I was sent out alone to fulfill a mission.
I walked over to where I thought I was supposed to start but there was water.
I returned and asked, “Am I supposed to get wet?
Go through the water?”
And They answered, “No, silly, you take the little inflatable boat.”
So They helped me inflate the small boat, steadied it while I embarked,
and I was on my way.
I was on land next, still in the boat.
But I wasn’t supposed to travel in a boat on land and I got beached.
Then I was driving a little car, with my young adult daughters riding along.
But I could no longer remember my mission.
No matter, I was determined to keep going
without asking anyone for help or direction.
The road was pretty clear: It curved to the right, banked by a high berm
composed of a tall hill of mounded dirt.
I saw the sky and the ground were the hues of twilight,
yellow and purple.

There were lights on in the houses.
As I rounded the curve, I noticed a woman in a police uniform
attempting to direct me,
but I couldn’t hear her over the noise of the car.
I was pointing out to my daughters:
“Those houses over there—one of them is where the shooting was.”
It was a recent shooting I had read about, a 49-year-old man who lived with his parents.
The cops were called during a domestic dispute
the police shot and killed the man when he wouldn’t put down his weapon.
I figured the policewoman was still guarding the crime scene,
and I kinda/sorta knew where I was going,
so I’d be fine not heeding her.
But she threw her arms up in the air as if to say,
“I tried to help you.”
The next thing I knew,
I had driven the car into a flooded pathway.
We were partially submerged.
It was easy enough to exit the vehicle and
scramble back up onto the drier land we had just driven over,
but I was at a loss
what to do or where to go.
My young adult children were expressing their concerns.
I knew I could contact the Ones
who sent me out in the first place,
but I was hesitant to do so.
Embarrassed that I had forgotten my original mission,
unsure that the lines of communication were still open,
somewhat under the delusion that I had to go it alone,
I still didn’t ask for help.
I looked longingly in the direction where
I had seen the policewoman,
she was now nowhere to be found.
I wanted to keep moving forward
but there was no longer a clear path,
and going back seemed out of the question.
I woke up as I was realizing
how foolishly stubborn I was being.

Fear attracts

29 Aug

glass menagerieDid you ever read the play The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams, or did you ever see the movie?

In the story, the mother, Amanda, has raised her two children without their father, who deserted the family when the children were young. The daughter, Laura, had polio as a child, and walks with a limp.  Laura is painfully shy and has dropped out of high school, then also dropped out of a secretarial school her mother encouraged her to enroll in. Laura spends her days tending to her collection of glass animals. The son, Tom, is a frustrated poet who works in a shoe factory to help support the family.

The mother has two great fears:

  1. Laura will grow up and become a spinster (an old, unmarried, lonely woman).
  2. Tom will leave them, just as his father did.

Because of her fears, the mother is full of anxiety and constantly berates her grown children. Because of the anxiety the mother projects on Laura, Laura becomes even more withdrawn and shy. Laura never leaves the house, preferring the company of her glass menagerie.

The mother nags Tom endlessly, asking him to find a suitor for his sister, to better himself, to work harder for the family. Tom brings home a male co-worker, but Laura hides in her room while the mother flirts with the guest. Finally Laura comes out of hiding, only to learn that the guest was someone she had a crush on in high school, and he is already engaged to another. The guest also breaks Laura’s favorite animal, her unicorn. Laura is emotionally demolished and retreats to her room.

The mother blames the whole thing on Tom. Tom should’ve known who the guest was, and that he was already engaged. Tom was innocent of these crimes. Eventually he can’t take it anymore, and he packs his stuff and leaves the household for good.

What I took away from this play: by focusing on her fears, the mother brought them into being. The things which she feared most, she caused to happen by her emotions and behaviors. The mother’s negative energy brought her fears to life.

The law of attraction is the name given to the maxim “like attracts like.” The law of attraction is used to sum up the idea that by focusing on positive or negative thoughts, a person brings positive or negative experiences into their life. In the play, the mother’s constant negativity brought the very things she feared to fruition.

My philosophy, eclectic at its core, is that I trust there is a benevolent Force in the Universe which is taking care of everything. I can let go of my fears and anxieties by confiding them to someone, bringing them to the light of day. That way I can discern my most of my fears are usually needless, often childish, and frequently not based in fact or reality.

I get reminded that “everything, everywhere, is already all right.” The earth is self-correcting. What is supposed to happen is what will happen. I can choose negativity and anxiety, or I can trust that my Higher Power has my back and positive adventures and gifts come my way. This has been true for me so far, and I trust it will continue to be so.

 

%d bloggers like this: