Journey to Authenticity

Sunday Scribblings: Covert

 

Concealed, secret, or hidden. A shelter, cover, or disguise.  

Can I keep things hidden, and yet still be authentic? I know that I can't wear a disguise and still be real. But a shelter, yes, that is good. Someplace to go and escape the storm.

On Thursday, I missed Nathan's school's Volunteer Tea. Caught up in the plans for the weekend away, I never got around to sending in my RSVP. And when I remembered too late, I shrugged and thought, "oh well, there's always next year."

I didn't know there'd be dancing.

If I'd known, I would have crashed the party. I would have stayed away from the treats. I would have stood in the back, watching alone. I would have shown penitence. But I would have been there. I didn't know. And Nathan danced the Macarena and the Tooty Ta, "holding a picture of [me] in [his] head, so that [he] wouldn't feel sad."

Does that make anyone else want to cry?

And then, also on Thursday, I learned that an old school friend had died two days earlier. We went to junior high and high school together, part of the same tight clique, attending each others' parties, writing each other gossipy notes, privy to each others' triumphs and darkest secrets. We were friends until our junior year when we had a really stupid fight and then didn't speak again. And now she's gone.

I didn't even realize how upset I was until I tried to tell Mark and couldn't get the words out, the grief rendering me mute. And not just grief, but shame, too. She'd attempted to "friend" me on Facebook last autumn and I ignored her. Petty and small, yes. Somehow, "But I didn't know she was going to die" doesn't seem an adequate response.

And guess what? Friday was my fortieth birthday. Not sure what to do with myself, I wandered the mall, stopping to hide in quiet corners when I felt my eyes fill. Thinking of my baby, thinking of my friend being buried on my birthday. Wondering at the fact that I could simultaneously feel so old, and yet know that my friend, the same age as me, had died far too young.

After Nathan came home, I took him to a birthday party. The mother of the birthday girl is my closest friend here in Maryland, and yet I said nothing. She didn't remember it was my birthday and had no clue about the rest of it. I donned my mask. I smiled, I laughed, I congratulated her on some well-deserved good news, and all the while, I kept shoving down the pain.

Am I being private or am I withholding? Am I connected or disconnected? Am I seeking shelter or am I pretending? Can you know me if I only give you pieces? Do I really want you to know me?

Concealed, secret or hidden. A shelter, cover or disguise.

Snapshots from a weekend alone with my love...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Shepardstown, West Virginia; The Bavarian Inn; The Potomac River**

An Exercise in Intention

Our tiny yard has been (and continues to be) a challenge. Filled with lots of trees (which I will NOT cut down, thank you very much), the shade limits the choices, and the roots often strangle our attempts. The red, clay-ey soil doesn't help, either. But we've been here almost nine years, and slowly, the beauty is taking root.

Except for one spot.

A single corner of our backyard has resisted all efforts. Everything we've planted has died--sometimes within within weeks or months, once after two years. We've added stuff (a technical term) to the dirt, mixed in rich potting soil, fertilized, etc. We've tried plants and shrubs and exotic grasses, always choosing those that are supposed to grow in our area, supposedly "no-fail."

Well, playing it safe hasn't done a bit of good. And so this year, during our annual pilgrimage to the plant nursery, we decided we might just as well fail spectacularly as timidly. With that in mind, we chose this:

 

Isn't she pretty?

 

Can you see her potential?

 

She is a Fragrant Tea Olive, and we have (perhaps unimaginatively) named her Olive.

I am currently reading Lynne McTaggart's The Intention Experiment. It's a fascinating exploration of how our minds can and do shape our reality. Would you please join me in my own intention experiment? Would you, right now, hold Olive in your mind and send her loving thoughts? Would you imagine her digging her roots down deep and lifting her stems up toward the sun? Would you picture her loving her new home, thriving in the spot we've chosen?

Thank you so much.

This Authentic Life

I have this vision of myself and my life--a vision of vibrancy, color, creativity, love, laughter, and even serenity. I know what I want, I know what I want to see, I know how I want to feel. And when I think about this vision, more and more I am realizing that there are no little things, and that it all matters.

The previous post dealt with two blank walls and the artistic expressions trapped in their envelopes, waiting to shine.  The walls and the photos are indicative of a trend that continues to occur in my life. I look at something and I know it's not what I want. It feels bad, maybe not big bad, but bad nonetheless. And it's not that it happens once, so that I feel a little bad and then it's gone. It's that I enter a room, come upon something, see someone, whatever--but that every time, I'm feeling a little bad. And the little bad feeling pops up ten, twenty, maybe even a hundred times a day.

Suddenly, it's five o'clock and I realize I have this sad feeling in my body and I'm wondering why, because nothing really bad has happened. Well, yes it has. Over and over again, actually. For seconds or minutes, I stop and berate myself for things not done, things done badly, connections not made, vibrancy denied yet again. Yes indeed, the blank walls actually matter quite a lot.

So I'm trying to (kindly) work on this. I'm attempting to stop and ask, "Why does this make me feel bad? How do I really want it to be? Can I fix it now, even by taking a baby step?" And I'm finding that there usually is something I can do, and no matter how small, it takes that bad feeling away.

Many years ago I rescued a little side table from a dumpster. It had chipped white paint on it and a plastic top. The wood was actually solid wood--not cheap particle board or composite or whatever that junk is called. It seemed worth saving. So I put another coat of paint on it and a new handle for the drawer, but I didn't know what to do about the plastic top. I really disliked it, but I lived with it.

We moved to our house and over the course of the years, it came to live in the guest room, which is also Mark's office. It didn't suit Mark's tastes, and it didn't suit the decor that was (and is) evolving in the room. Then, about four years ago, I got the idea of repainting it and putting a mosaic on the top. I saw it in my head--beautiful and vibrant. Unfortunately, it didn't make it out of my head. Just about every day, I had a reason to walk into the room, and everyday, I was confronted with that side table--yet another example of my inability to follow through.

But now I'm trying to live authentically. Now I know that feeling a little bad all day long is not acceptable.

The last time my parents visited, I asked my dad to try to get the plastic off the table. He's a man who loves a project, so he enthusiastically went after it with a heat gun and a chisel. It became this:

 

I felt a little better. But then, almost two months passed, and I still hadn't taken the next step. And now, the sight of this version made me feel even worse. The plastic top was ugly, but this was even uglier. I racked up quite a lot of little bad feelings. I had to remind myself yet again that it's NOT okay to feel bad every day.

What could I do?

I spread out a tarp and got Mark to carry it down to my room for me. I pulled out the supplies that I'd bought weeks before. I went to work.

And this is what I created:

 

The striving for an authentic life is an ongoing process. It's made up of lots of little things and moments.  And there's something that I've learned and that I have to remember: it will never be complete and I will never finish.

Matching the Outer to the Inner

During this blogging dry spell, life has continued on much as usual. There have been some bummers (everybody getting sick a lot), and also some bits of excellence (Mark getting promoted to vice president, Nathan getting placed in the advanced reading and math groups). But mostly it's been a matter of placing one foot in front of the other and making sure the minutiae is being handled.

There has been one interesting development though (at least to me)--there has been a shift in my thinking concerning my surroundings. As in, do I like what I'm seeing? If not, why not? And how can I make it better?

I decided to start easy, with photographs that came into my possession last year. Photos I purchased and was gifted from my BFF Danny B! A photo given to me by the wonderful Hay. They came into my life in the autumn, and there they sat, in their envelopes, on the sideboard, their beauty hidden.

No more!

Finally, finally I got them framed. And hung. (The hanging involved a bit of an argument with the husband, but we won't go there...) And now, two barren spots that have plagued me for the almost nine (!) years I've lived in this house are filled--lusciousness abounds!

Feast your eyes on these beauties from Danny:

 

Look closer:

 

I want to pull people in from the street to study these photos.

And now for Hay's bit of loveliness:

 

(I was going to make the bed before taking the picture, but hey, I'm among friends, right?)

Let's zoom in:

 

It's breath-taking--the first image I see when I get up in the morning, the last before I click off the light.

It's amazing what these have done for my spirit. I look at them and remember who I am.

Next up, further adventures in matching outer to inner...

 

 

 

 

 

Finding my way again

I'm not exactly sure what happened, and I'm not even sure what will happen next. There is one thing, however, that I do know--either I'll write this blog and it will continue, or I'll say my goodbyes and close it down. I'm stepping out of default mode. I will no longer be tolerating resolutions that come about through inaction.

So.

Let's give this another go, shall we? Post a least a couple of times a week for the next month or two. And if the spark doesn't reignite, if the interest (on both sides) is gone, well, then, no harm done and farewell.

We'll see what happens.