Saturday, January 25, 2014

A New Leaf

Well, actually a new knee!

I will be replacing my knee this Thursday (and of course that means I will be in la-la land and SOMEONE will be surgically placing a new knee in my destroyed right knee.)



On the right is a tibial plateau and the left is the femoral condyles. Jan 30, I will start a physically new journey. Recovery will "different" and I am not sure what will be my recovery rate. I might not be back to work until April.

This recent Jan 22 and 23, Mike and I went to the coast. We took in a SUNNY DAY, starting at the Promenade walk in Seaside,



the John Cook glass studio in Gearhart, OR





Specifically went to the John Cook studio to see Richard Satava's Glass art with Jellyfish. He is the KING of this art!!!







the Hammond KOA







and the lovely Ft Stevens beach









children's bare feet and dog paw prints --- awwwww!





this is the view south, towards Seaside





I love the TEXTURE



The sun is lowing, as seen through the Peter Iredale, and we raced

before catching the Long Beach sunset.



Too many touristy things were closed, but we did bike along the sea grasses in Gearhart,









then we went to the Maritime Museum in Astoria.



I love these old canning labels!





This is my last chance to do these things before recovery. The goal after surgery is to do a half marathon.



OK.

...and lastly, I made this collage after all the events of the last two days. It is called
ADRIFT.



Ready set GO!

addendum:
It has been one week since the OHSU surgery and admittance into Rehab Nursing Center was the following Saturday at 1 pm.

I have been too dopey to type much and too absorbed in recovery to say much. The one thing I will say, is this:
I hope I never end up in a nursing facility. This is crazy making.

I will add a thing or two when I have more to say; I am recovering daily. I am not recovering in the way people expected. I have a pain level that is off-the-charts in a knee bend. We need the surgeon to evaluate that.

To be continued on it's own entry.



Wednesday, January 22, 2014

"Boys Will Be Boys"

This is from another blog (link below) - but worthy of sharing.

http://causewecool.tumblr.com/post/73657590435/spankmeagainplease-feel-free-to-sexually-harass">
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Feel free to sexually harass me if you’re male. You know what they say “Boys will be boys.”. Although I’m not sure any of you will want to do that since I’m not very modest, therefore not attractive.

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The new principal at my school used two phrases while addressing new dress code rules to a class.

"Modest is hottest." and "Boys will be boys."

He should have said something more along the lines of: “The school dress code was established to provide our students with a safe and orderly learning environment that is free from distractions.”

Let’s start with the phrase “Modest is hottest.” Shall we?

Modest-Having or showing a moderate estimation of one’s own talents, abilities, and value.

If modest is hottest, then it’s not modest.

You are literally sending the message to young girls, who are already struggling with self confidence, that hiding their body makes them more attractive. You are establishing a sense of shame in these young, developing minds and bodies. A human has the right to wear whatever they feel comfortable in. Showing less skin doesn’t make you any more attractive. Showing more skin does not make you any less attractive. When someone calls you attractive that just means that they are attracted to you.

At what point in your career did you find it appropriate to define my “hotness”? Why are you at all concerned with how “hot” I am? You are teaching us, through modesty, to be objects of sexual arousal. I’m sorry, but I don’t dress myself to look “hot” for anyone. I dress myself as a way of expressing myself and my body. “If covering up my body is supposed to make people sexually/physically attracted to me, then how would those people feel if I decide to have sexual relations with them, without clothes on?” “How am I supposed to love and feel proud of my naked body and develop a sense of sexuality when exposing my body is deemed shameful and unattractive?” Since when should being “hot” be my concern. I don’t want to be with someone who just thinks I’m hot. I want to be with someone who loves and respects all the parts of my mind, personality, and body. THAT’S what you should be teaching, not “How to be hot.”.

My body is not a sinful temptation that needs to be hidden.
My body is not your personal, sexual object.
My body does not overshadow my character.
My body is not any more sexual than a man’s body.
My body is not here to look “hot” for you.


Next up is “Boys will be boys.”

Being a boy refers to your gender. That’s all.

It does not make you constantly sexually aroused, animalistic, or sexually uncontrollable, but for some reason society has come to the conclusion that you are this stereotype. This is extremely sad. This gender stereotype is unfair to all men. By telling them who they are as a man you are absolutely taking away their moral agency. “But he’s a teenager. He’s raging with hormones.” You don’t think I’m raging with hormones as well? Believe me I am. Men are not stupid. They are not unable to see when someone is not consenting to sex. It’s not ‘in their nature’ to rape because they are a man, it’s not ‘in their nature’ because IT’S WRONG TO RAPE SOMEONE. Raping someone is a cognitive choice. (how modestly the victim dresses does not affect them being raped). When the few people that do sexually harass people happen to be male and you use the excuse “Boys will be boys.” you are not only excusing their behavior, you are condoning it. It’s this “Boys will be boys.” mentality, culture, and attitude that condone sexual assault. Whenever the excuse “Boys will be boys.” is used, it’s just an exercise of male privilege. It’s this attitude that condones sexual assault. You are giving them a free license that makes it okay for them to be sexually violent, that says “Well I’m a boy, it’s just who I am.” Sex needs to stop being about “no no no bad dirty gross shameful” and start being about “Yes. Let’s have consenting sex because I want to.” Consent. THAT’S what you should be teaching, not “Well you know how they are… Boys will be boys!”

Boys are not sexually uncontrollable.
Boys do not have a genetic, animalistic, violent nature.
Boys are not born with a natural desire for destruction or control.


Despite what society and culture keeps trying to cram down everyone’s throat, having a penis doesn’t make it okay to sexually harass someone. The false idea that men can’t control themselves is so unfair and completely ridiculous.
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The next day He called me down to his office to discuss my concerns. (Students and teachers told him about it, which I expected)
I spent a good hour and a half arguing with the principle about his comments when he called me down to his office, today. I offered to send him what I posted if he was interested in reading it. He said “No, that won’t be necessary.” I explained to him that I wanted him to read what I wrote and I would appreciate it if he did. He said “No, I don’t really care to read it. That’s okay.”

I asked him what he meant by the phrase “boys will be boys” and he explained that if a girl is inappropriately dressed that it can lead to inappropriate, sexual touching and staring (sexual harassment). If a boy chooses to sexually harass someone, it’s his choice no matter what his gender is. He explained to me that boys are more “wound up” than girls are. I didn’t quite understand what he meant by that so I asked him for a different adjective and after a minute of mumbling he chose the word “aggressive” but then followed that up with “…well I don’t think that’s the correct word to use…”. I agree, not the best word to use, eh?

I asked him to explain why boys are different than girls in this regard and he said “Well to start, all boys are attracted to girls…” I interrupted with “No. There are actually boys who are attracted to other boys.” He laughed and said “Oh, yes of course!”… I guess that part must have slipped his mind.

I asked him, in general, what the difference is between girls and boys. He said that boys “misbehave more” and are “outgoing”. He said that girls are “reserved”. That’s all. That’s the word he used, “reserved”. Boys and girls are different because they have different organs and hormones. Being a girl doesn’t automatically make me reserved. Just like being a boy doesn’t make you automatically misbehave. I explained to him that by using the phrase “Boys will be boys.”, he is excusing and condoning bad behavior from boys, such as sexual harassment and rape. “But that’s not reality, that’s your opinion.” he said.

He explained that his daughters “behave” and that his nephews were disrespectful… because they are boys. I said “That has nothing to do with their gender. They act that way because of how they were raised, the environment they are living in, and the choices they make.”

I told him that the phrases he used were sexist and stereotypical and unfair to all genders. I explained to him that many students and people of society were offended by what he said and the phrases he used. I told him that I thought he should apologize for what he said and explain to students and society that this kind of message is not okay or appropriate.

He said he wouldn’t apologize for that, but he would give me an apology, which was “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

After he dodged almost every question I asked by sharing his plans to improve LHS, he decided that he had had enough of not being able to answer my questions or concerns and ended our discussion by saying “I’m going to end this discussion.” and I was sent back to class.
There is so much wrong with what this principal is doing that I can’t even list it, but yeah here’s your takeaway:
He explained that his daughters “behave” and that his nephews were disrespectful… because they are boys. I said “That has nothing to do with their gender. They act that way because of how they were raised, the environment they are living in, and the choices they make.”

They are disrespectful because you have specifically told them they can do whatever they want and you will excuse it because they’re boys!
Lakeland Senior High School and his name is Mr. Martinez

Thursday, January 16, 2014

30 Questions to Ask Yourself Before You Die.





http://www.rebellesociety.com/2013/07/17/30-questions-to-ask-before-you-die/">


Warning: You may have already answered or are in the process of answering some of these questions. If so, a bit of repetition will only help you get clearer with yourself. If not, they should be in our elementary school curriculum. But most of us get to 30, 40, 60… or even spend our entire lives as strangers to ourselves. So shall we get re-introduced?

1.How much have you loved? Count the people. Add it up. When it comes to love, I’ve always felt in red numbers. I’ve been so focused on the minuses — all of them based on the not-enoughness, the virus most of us suffer from, the glass half-empty, the “but” – the “won’t” – the “can’t” – the “don’t” — the “what if.”

So if you’re in red numbers too, let’s put the ball back in our court. How much have you loved? Have you loved even when it hurts, when you can’t, when you shouldn’t, when you wouldn’t, when you didn’t – just because love is a verb, not a noun, and it’s the hardest, most beautiful gift of life? If so, you’re richer than you feel.

2.What do you love doing that you aren’t doing? Furthermore, how could you get paid for doing what you love? Let’s brainstorm. It’s your right to be alive every second of the day. You’re not supposed to spend 8 hours a day in chains and the remaining 4 getting high on mental and physical distraction in order to cope with the depression of not doing what you should, what you really want, what you need to be doing.

3.What person or type of person would you choose as a life companion? A witness to your life? Forget the shoulds / the can’ts / the won’ts / the impossibles. Who would you love and who would love you back if you could have a say in it? Because see, your say in this makes all the difference. When you say your dreams out loud, you turn on the engine. It’s like this whole unlived, abundant life is waiting to come rushing out of you and in wishing it — out loud — you open the gates and give it permission to happen.

4.Where do you want to live? Are you happy with your life where you are? Could you be happier somewhere else? It’s true that you can be home wherever you are. But it’s also true that some places are more in tune with the kind of life that comes bursting out of you. There’s nothing more inspiring and motivating than good company and an environment that reflect and support your mission.

5.What do you want to accomplish? And most importantly, why — what’s your motivation? Be unrealistic. Life itself is unrealistic. Your very existence is as random, impossible and unrealistic as it gets. Only unrealistic people accomplish extraordinary things.

6.What do you want to be remembered by? Write it down. This is the man / the woman who _______________. Take your time.

7.What kind of life would make you jealous? And why? If you could start over, what would your life look like, right now? (psst…you can – but shh, don’t let your doubts in on this yet – they’re gonna’ ruin everything).

8.What adventures do you want to have? Can you list five? Adventures aren’t just for children — or maybe the 10-year old in us never dies. And it’s that inner child that really loves and lives life for what it is: the greatest adventure in the universe.

9.If you had to add something to humanity, what would your contribution be? List at least one. The world doesn’t owe you. You owe the world. The good news is that whatever the answer to this question, you’ll enjoy doing it. Your mission is encrypted in your blueprint.

10.What are your ghosts? Your unspoken demons? The stuff you keep in your closet under a lock? What are you most deeply afraid of? Say it out loud. Get real with yourself. It’s how you conquer them.

11.What are your favorite memories? Can you picture four or five instances in your childhood you are fond of? Do you see a river running through them? What’s that river, that common denominator, the deepest statement about you and life that lies at the core of them? There is usually only one – or two life-altering statements that come up when you dig.

Get to the bottom of it. How can you live from that same belief now? How can you transform your current experiences so they begin with that same idea – that fueled your most cherished childhood memories?

12.Who do you love the most? What 10 people would you put on a lifeboat in case of a universal tsunami / asteroid / zombie attack or any other realistic end of the world? Make a list. You can have a million friends on Facebook, but at the end of the day, you’re lucky if you can find 10 people you would die for and who would die for you. Email them as soon as you can. Remind them that if the world ends tomorrow, they’d be on your lifeboat.

Truth is…you never know if the world will end tomorrow. At least for you. And human beings are the most forgetful animals. Do you eat, drink and sleep every day? Then love everyday too.

13.What worries you the most? Why? Worry comes from fear. And most fear is imaginary. Fear of the Thing is not the Thing itself. Learn to distinguish one from the other. It’s as simple as asking Why.

So what are you worried about? List even the most trivial worries, they’re a projection of a deeper fear. And if any of these worries came true, do you think you could survive? And if the answer is No, then all the more reason to enjoy the world before it ends (and not worry about dead or dying ends).

14.What type of people inspire you and make you come alive? What people — at this point in your life — add to the truest equation of YOU? Reach out to them, get closer, “touch” them, spend time with them, be around them, aliveness is the one virus you always need to catch.

15.What type of people bring you down and make you hate yourself? Break up with them. Today. It’s not rejection, it’s just selection. Life is short. You can’t invest your love in people who don’t want it and who use it to deplete you.

Love is the most elevated, beautiful transaction between two creatures. But it’s still a transaction. The whole of nature is transaction: a give and take. When one is missing, the cycle is interrupted, the fire swallows all the oxygen and you burn out. We each have a choice – to give and to take love — and whether we are aware of it or not, we choose the people we give to and take from. You are responsible for your heart’s investments.

16.Who are your mentors? What have they taught you? Can you make a list? If you know them personally, thank them? Writers, thinkers, teachers, people who’ve shown you the way at some point, and the beautiful mystery of life made sense in their hands. Inspiration is contagious. It fuels you up. You owe them a mention on your lips and in your heart; and you must pay it forward and become a way-shower to someone else.

17.What is your cosmic elevator pitch? Not your job description, not your professional bio, not your resume, not your About page. But if you got in an elevator on a spaceship that tours the galaxy and you could say anything you wanted about yourself, what would you tell your elevator mates?

In short, who are you – raw, unedited, wild, ordinary and extraordinary you? What does it come down to? And why? (Always, that goddamn solid why).

18.What issues can you help with? We’re in trouble as a planet, as a species, as a global community, and as individuals. It’s not a choice, actually. If you want to live here, you need to pay the toll of helping out, or your so-called-living won’t be more than a selfish idea of living.

Interdependence is the new Independence. In order to make it real, you have to help clean up the mess others have made. Don’t worry, so will others help clean yours. It’s how it goes with humans. They mirror each other, for better or worse.

19.How can you express yourself creatively? Starting with the belief that we are all creative animals by nature, what’s your medium? Don’t think about profit, think only of how you can recycle your demons and become a channel for truth.

Art (any kind) speaks directly to the heart. It doesn’t go through reason. They are two parallel languages. You need to speak Art if you want to understand Heart. So pick a medium and start practicing.

20.How do you manage your time? What works for you? If you’re a mess, how can you get it together? Here are some creative tips on productivity. Can you make a schedule, write down your routine (to help you stick to it), come up with a productivity manifesto of some sort?

21.If you were to leave the world today, what’s your manifesto? What would you tell your children if you were forced to abandon them unexpectedly? Tell them now (even if you don’t have children). You do actually, we’re all inextricably interconnected to each other – in ways beyond our wildest imagination, and every child born on this planet is also a bit yours.

22.What makes you come alive? What ignites you? What makes you forget time, and space, and love, and food and water and even why – if taken to extreme? As Bukowski put it, “Find out what you love and let it kill you.” (Or resurrect you.)

23.What are your most painful memories? Are you still replaying them in your mind and using them as an excuse to fuel your fear of getting hurt again? Do you think they might be keeping you from trusting your heart again?

24.Why do you eat the way you eat and the things you eat? What do you think you should you eat that you’re not eating – and why? What can you put in your body that gives you pleasure and also respects and nourish it? If you don’t know, can you find out? Google it, read books, take a nutrition course, a cooking class, an online support program, hire a health counselor, do whatever it takes to get to know your body’s needs and then give it what it’s really asking for.

Your cells are made from the very food you eat. What you eat is the most important physiological aspect of your aliveness. You can’t honor life through your work, mission, relationships (you name it), if you don’t eat what gives you life.

25.What ignites your brain? What turns your light bulb on? Can you add more of that to your everyday? Get smarter? Train your brain? Evolve? Don’t waste your precious time on meaningless entertainment that numbs your mind and makes you smaller. It’s later than you think.

26.What physical exercise makes you sweat it like you mean it and enjoy both, the process and the afterward feeling? If you’re not currently practicing it, can you read more about it, surround yourself with people who practice it, sign up for a class, do whatever will motivate you to practice it?

27.What does your body need in order to function at its best? Can you make a list of what makes you feel healthiest and function optimally and try to practice it every day? If you’re not sure, start experimenting. Your 100% is just a little higher than your 80% but it makes a lifetime impact.

28.What feeds your spirit? What gives you goosebumps? What makes you fall down to your knees in awe (and weep)? Is it god? Religion? The universe? Science? Starry nights? Philosophy? Nature? Music? Art? It has to be higher than a person (than you), and surpass your understanding. There is no awe without mystery.

29.What are you proud of so far? What have you accomplished? Don’t compare yourself to others. There will always be someone who’s done “more” and some who’s done “less.” But what can you, at this point in your life (your circumstances, your reality), give yourself a hug for? Do it.

30.Fast-forward to your epitaph. What does it say? As a place-holder, let’s paraphrase Jack Kerouac: “They lived and loved and asked, blessed and adventured…and they weren’t sorry.”

Question 31 (I don’t like even numbers): What is the meaning of life? To sit and have a drink with life, and ask her things, and hear your own heart (usually ignored) echo your larger-than-life answers in your chest? To realize that you’re rich solely because you have a universe inside you, that you can reach at any given moment – a world that will shrink and expand on your command? Yes. That.

There is no meaning outside of You that won’t take Your deepest, greatest truth in consideration. Fuck love, money or fame if they don’t come as a result of your life-driving truth – they’re the roof to your inner house, and to add a roof you must first discover, understand and create that house. And if you don’t know where to start building, just ask.

Life is an endless flow of questions – meaning is always in the making and it is constantly being created as we speak. The ultimate meaning of life then is the One that creates meaning: the traveler (not the journey), the subject (not its objects, ideas, circumstances, possessions), the lover (not the love), the wayseer (not the way), the warrior (not the battle)…

You.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Colors



I was raised a good Catholic girl, attending a parochial school. Life was black and white, as were the habits that my teachers wore. My role models were three types, each a contrast. There was my father, my mother and the nuns. My father, who never had religion, said he’d attend church if it were in English (but even after the conversion from Latin, he never went to Mass), drank, and verbally left black and blues in my life. I had the ever-attending-church mom, pious, reverent and stoic - she in her pastels, white-church-veil, and white church-going gloves, (who later revealed two out of wedlock pregnancies, where she went to a nunnery and gave the girls away. Each. Time.) Lastly, I had the influence of the nuns, my educators, (who I later learned, most of them quit the field and left the church.) Even still, this left the "black and white" of religion permanently imprinted.

High school was the first of my public school experiences, with red and white, ra-ra, go Eagles. It was the sixties, and trying to fit was a kaleidoscope of neons and minis, with a plethora of new independent experiences. We held Vietnam moratoriums, exceeded dress codes, and socked-it-to-ya. Desperately, I wanted to fit in; my acceptance was only a purchase away (or so I thought), with a hairpiece and new go-go boots (hopefully), next week. Not belonging was a fate worse than hell, and I begged for each new wave of popularity, financed by the green in my parents’ deep pockets.

Virginity was white. That was clear to me. It was pure and unmistakably the choice for a good Christian girl. I saw colorful characters in my high school experiment to the sound of Janis, and then head to the Janis Youth Home for unwed mothers. I was steadfast, and quite bound in my decision to remain unpolluted. Each of us graduated high school, and diversely struck out independently. Some never returned home from their khaki recruitment, others continued to breathe chalk dust of academia and put initials after their names such as M.D. or maybe Mrs. I held a job at a factory, then a print shop, then a hospital. Uneventful, unproductive and unmemorable, they were my first years out of high school. I might as well have been a nun, and I briefly pursued that as a career, because my life was as sterile as the virginity I clung to. No men were interested; I did not date, and I felt that the vow of poverty, chastity and obedience was no different from my current lifestyle; in fact, it perpetuated the black and white I was living.

Along came “Bix”. We knew each other from a Bible study. He lived on the Portland State campus, and he worked in a Vocational Rehab dry cleaners. His type of employment and future for better employment did not bother me. Careers were never on my mind; it’s why I never chose college outside of high school. We dated. We walked the campus downtown in spring. We stopped and smelled red roses and the tickling green of newly mown lawns on bare feet. Soon, we were talking white picket fences. In less than six months, it was a trailing white train, shared “I do’s,” and the reds and greens of Christmas. Nine months later, we were sorting the pastels of blues and pinks, awaiting the arrival of our first born.

I had proceeded with no plan, but followed the time worn tradition of a gold band and strained peas flung on the wall. These colors were not bliss, however. My perceptions never fully bloomed until three years, and three children later. I saw the constant pink slips my husband brought home, accompanied by the incessant blame of the boss. Never at fault, Bix was afloat in the tempest; he was pallid, puce, and worn. Jaundiced to life, he gave up, as we subsisted on macaroni and cheese for five.

Donning white again, I wore an apron as I flashed my pearly best at graveyard shift truckers, and past-2 a.m. bar-room rejects. I plied them with black coffee and white glazed donuts, hoping against hope for plentiful silver and green in my stained apron pockets before I walked home in the crimson dawn.

It did not seem such a bad existence. Family is what it is all about, and I knew, in my black and white perception, that marriage and home is in line with the direction I’d been set on ever since Sister Maria in first grade. Eight years along this narrow path led me to full time work, day shift. Bix slept in, eventually and haphazardly dressing and feeding the children, and then I’d return home at 5:30 to cook more stale casseroles.

Something inside me began to morph. I witnessed freshness in that other 9-5 world. I saw respect, and I saw joy in relationships. I saw men supporting their families. I asked God about the promises that I leaned on. I felt unanswered. I saw our leaves yellowing, and a sickness in the root of our tree. It began with Bix’s acquiescence to nothingness, and was followed by my desire to grow. He saw no need to change. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” was his response. I wintered this discontent; my love died. My tree withered and never regained its color in the spring. Finally Bix saw the emptiness that could not be filled. He finally heard me when I said, “I don’t love you”: he moved in with his sister.

No one could have prepared me for the spiritual trauma. I had no footings anymore. Divorce was wrong, and I was getting a divorce. Who was I; where was my God? How could I survive living in, through the “never will happen to me’s”? This spiritual free-fall was frightening. My black and white world was up-ended, and I, with it. Recent I was asked about spirituality (which inevitably becomes complicated with the end of marriage), and some advice. I vividly remember my experience. My answer was, and still is: “Colors. Life is full of many colors; that is where to live. Do not fool yourself that life is black and white.”

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Authenticity

"YOUR WORK IS NOT TO DRAG THE WORLD KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO A NEW AWARENESS. YOUR JOB IS TO SIMPLY DO YOUR WORK... SACREDLY, SECRETLY AND SILENTLY... AND THOSE WITH "EYES TO SEE AND EARS TO HEAR" WILL RESPOND."... I love this quote. By doing our work, authentically, consistently, the people who need to find us - will find us."

There lies the rub. Can we do our work with authenticity if we don't know our work?
Can we do our work with authenticity if we don't know our worth?
Can we be found if we are hiding?

It is a double edge sword, shining in our competency and slicing through our insecurities.

There is an old hymn that says: "Hide it under a bushel? No. I gotta let it shine."
Honestly, how often do we behave in a dismissive manor about our talents, skills, innate abilities?
We respond with a "This Old Thing? Attitude". Why is this our response to a compliment?

Why?

It is not that we are behaving ungratefully for a compliment; it is what we feel we do or do not deserve. We let the deserved positives slide off and we latch on to the undeserved negatives. We hold onto "The Uglies" and claim them as our own. Some hurtful words just fall into that category:
dumb
slow
can't
never
fat
stupid
lazy
incompetent




There are people who have said things that have left as scars on us. "Sticks and Stones" was never farther from the truth.

Like a tape recorder in my head, I can not only know the words of the "uglies" that I heard in the past, I can still hear the voices of who said them.



Bullying isn't exactly the point I am making, but the crumpled paper that is never restored, IS the point.

Words.


Words and their ability to empower or destroy, to enflame with passion or engulf with destruction: these words are woven into our lives. Due to the words we have heard, we have self confidence or not. And depending on our inner voice - our inner words, we may or may not be authentic to ourselves.
This has been on my mind a lot, lately. I am not actually thinking about self worth because it is a new year.

I am thinking about the quote, above, the one that says "By doing our work, authentically, consistently, the people who need to find us - will find us..." -and do we "even want to be found"?

Have I not tried to be authentic to myself , not show my light? I have gotten some rave reviews that I do not know how to handle. My writing style was compared to a Pulitzer Prize winner. My artwork and desire to be producing creatively in writing and painting and other ways... it has taken off. I have recieved kudos, commissions and accolades. I was interviewed for a blog and have donated to charities.

And even in writing that, I feel a bit FULL OF MYSELF. Somewhere between hubris and humility is the balance. I am trying to find the authenticity.

Authenticity to myself. Do not misunderstand that I am a liar or I am showing people a fake me.
NO.
I am talking about being authentic to myself, and myself alone. The inner voices are where we get our "ME-NESS". If asked, "Who ARE you?" That would be my "ME-NESS."

It is new thing - the learning curve how to do this. It has been a long time since anything I made or wrote was public. This blog is a vulnerable peek into who I am or what I feel, and by showing my art - or other skills, I have to remove the "bushel" and decide that is okay for the light to be shining.

That is my challenge to me.



That is my challenge to you, to others. Authentically (and it is a step by step process...) shine. Our work and our worth will be noted when we acknowledge it in a healthy manor.
I am learning how. It will probably be one of my challenges daily.


These are lyrics from a CD that is in my car. I OFTEN start my day listening to it.

In this world there's a whole lot of trouble, baby.
In this world there's a whole lot of pain.
In this world there's a whole lot of trouble
But a whole lot of ground to gain.

Why take when you could be giving? Why watch as the world goes by?
It's a hard enough life to be living, why walk when you can fly?

In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow.
In this world there's a whole lot of shame.
In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lotta ground to gain.

When you spend your whole life wishing, wanting and wondering why -
It's a long enough life to be living, why walk when you can fly?

In this world there's a whole lot of cold.
In this world there's a whole lot of blame.
In this world you've a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings.

There's a star on the far horizon, rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given, why walk when you can fly?

Sung by Mary Chapin Carpenter

That's authentic. WHY WALK WHEN YOU CAN FLY?