angelbirdflies

Sometimes we need to look after the flower of our lives by adopting a different perspective.  Tonight as I talked with two dear friends they shared a fresh vantage, full of love and respect.  It's easy to take for granted the impact we have on one another.  Don't.

Yes. As is. As you are. As I am. As this arising moment is. Yes.

I'm just finishing Jess Walter's wonderful beachy read, Beautiful Ruins  and I ran across this timely quote: "All we have is the story we tell.  Everything we do, every decision we make, our strength, weakness, motivation, history, and character-- what we believe-- none of it is real; it's all part of the story we tell. But here's the thing: it's our goddamned story!...No one gets to tell you what your life means".   No one gets to tell your story.  We/I devote so much to energy to who  you/they/he/she think I am.  We/I try to improve upon or manage that perception.  In truth that's letting everyone else write our personal story.  The picture above is the outside me, the one carefully crafted with hopes to please, the me you see. The picture below is a rudimentary sampling of what I actually see.  I don't see me from the outsiders perspective. I see life in all its wonderful and terrible disguises, all the time.  What inane purpose ...

I was rather dreading a departure from Hawaii and my beloved God parents and my return to normalcy.  I came home and daily life descended, as I knew it would, with its occasional loneliness and regular responsibilities.  For a few days, while Bodhi was with his Dad and Owen gone for the summer, I moped.  And then I looked around.  WOW!  All the spring rains have turned my home into a lush paradise, complete with variations of green and floral bounty to rival any of my haunts on Kauai.  Beauty is literally all around.  And now that Bodhi's laughter once more fills our home, moping has been all but forgotten. And small adventures fill our days... like bike rides to the gym, trips to the market, neighborhood walks, stumbling upon one stranger after another who generously open their lives and hearts to us with the warm friendliness of summer. 

Back from Kauai...ahh.  What a way to start summer.  Sand, sea, love, family and a long deep exhale.

The lotus generally grows in mud or mirky waters but it always flowers fresh each day.  Perhaps all the pyscho-babbling-spiritual-mumbo-seeking-reaching-efforts to transform aren't necessary.  Perhaps, we can just surrender, knowing that there is mud and there's always going to be mud. Life is as it is.  And still we bloom.

I was recently asked why I blogged or engaged in a continual reflection on my thoughts or feelings.  Wasn't I at least a little ashamed to indulge my continual, narcissistic, self reflection in a world full of genuine need, suffering and pain.  This came at a time when I really had nothing left to battle with. I went belly up with shame.   My old answer didn't suffice.  I no longer blog for the same reason  that I once did.  There wasn't an adequate answer.  Shame asked, "who do you think you are to put your thoughts, ideas and writing out into the world?" Brown  defines shame as the "intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging".  Shame kicked my ass.   I thought of deleting the blog.   I felt ashamed of who I am, how I think, how I feel, how I live.  I came face to face with my own darkest self. Who am I to occupy space?  Who am I...