The Price of Boxes

I find myself at war with modern day existence. I have repeatedly over the years jumped out of the boxes that life has lined up, only to find a maze of new ones laid out before me.  Each has had a title like 'Achievement' or 'Happiness''.  A few have even had the tempting label of 'Fun' boldly written on them.  I mean who wouldn't want to try out a box that basically guarantees a good time.  But, before entering each box there is a price to pay.  While the price varies due to inflation and supply and demand, the accepted form is always the same, time and sanity.

 Early on in my life, I didn't mind parting with these currencies.  After all, I had such a plethora of both that I couldn't imagine a scenario when I would be without either.  I willingly plodded through the maze of modern life with both the optimism and ideology of youth. I believed there would always be choices that would lead me to my own personal greatness. The demanded price always seemed reasonable for the promise of a future of my choosing.  The problem is that neither time or sanity is something that can be replaced once gone.  I'm sure there are a few that would like to argue with me about the sanity piece.  But, you will most likely lose because, as everyone knows, insane people are never wrong.  I have spent my adult years slowly bleeding the two things most needed to exist or at the very least to select the next option in this twisted board game that is life.  

As I find myself at the half way point of my human existence, I am comforted by the thought that I still have some time left in which to continue this journey.  However, I no longer have nearly a fraction of the sanity required to execute the rest of my time here.  I now find myself hoarding the little bit I have left, saving it only for the moments of the upmost importance.  This has created a bit of a quandary for me because as I have so clearly explained I cannot move forward without first paying the toll.  So, here I sit in my latest box, entitled 'Solitary Confinement', gazing out at all the driven souls as they leap from one chronological cube to the next without hesitation.  I could join them and there are moments when I almost do, but something always pulls me back.  Usually, it's a thought.  One that urges,"Wait! You may need me one day." And, I am reminded again that my thoughts are my greatest resource as I carefully plot a way to move off the path toward the expansive openess that lies outside all the boxes.  At the moment, it appears that I am stalled as the rest of the world goes by.  But, in reality I am waiting for the time when I find the one truly brilliant conscious stream that allows me to escape the rigidness that is life and run into the quiet vastness that is beyond the path formed by others' wasted time and sanity.

Thoughts on a Spring Afternoon

Well, my blog hasn't been used in some time. Upon reading my last post, I am pretty sure I know why.  The date was July 11, 2012.  On July 12 of that same year the bottom fell out of my well planned life.  I will spare you the gory details.  This isn't due to my innate kindness, but to the fact that all of my 14 followers are more than aware of what transpired.  Still curious?? Feel free to leave a comment and I will get back to you.  Now, moving on to the present.  Wait, before I get going I need to place a disclaimer.  I have had a rather large glass of my favorite white wine and cannot be responsible for any typos or possible confusing statements.

Okay, time to write something of merit.  The entire reason I have decided to come back to the land of blogging is that I have plenty to express and I have one too many 'friends' on Facebook and not nearly enough in real life. As I sit here typing, I find myself 7 months into a new life in North Carolina.  "New" is a strong word and come to think of it so is "life", but this is all the English Language currently has available to express my current situation. Unless, I want to add the word "hell".  But, that is not the point of this post.  No, the point is to discuss that at nearly 39 years of age I have decided to consider letting the second half of my life be dictated by who I am and not by what I believe is acceptable.  Let me elaborate.  I have spent the better part of the last four decades functioning on a level that involved an extreme amount of control.  I have carefully controlled my choices, husband, children, decor, 3 cats and on occasion the weather.  But, there is nothing I have controlled more than myself.  I must admit that in the right company and at the right moment this control has slipped.  Usually, it was followed by a reprimand that involved someone pointing out how I could have possibly gotten myself or others beaten to a pulp.  But, I digress.  I'm not sure if what I am experiencing is a mid life crisis, but I do feel that there is a crisis at hand.  I have two choices to make:  I can continue on my carefully laid path that involves sanity and a smaller therapy bill for my children or I can embrace the person that allows me the moments that bring a deep breath of air that can only be described as life giving,    

I'm pretty sure that I won't make my decision today, due to the fact that I must go prepare a carefully planned dinner.   But, I just wanted to make it known that I am quite aware that I am half way through the life I have been granted, yet have not fully lived in a manner expressing the person that I may have been created to be.

Let me just add that what I am considering in no way involves any intentional harm being inflicted on any living creature in my life.  I just want permission to let the type 'A' part of myself go and release the creative free spirit that has only on occasion been witnessed  to take over.

Summer Hours

I have decided to keep "Summer Hours" this July and August.  It seemed like a really great idea after such a long school year.  I fantasized about lying around my house in some type of tropical robe like thing, while sipping Mai Tais.  Okay, I have no idea what a Mai Tai is, but you get my point.  Lots of rest and wasted time.  However, a week and a half into my new schedule, I have discovered that not only do I lack said tropical robe in my closet, but I don't handle wasted time well.  I have no problem wasting food, water and, according to my husband, electricity.  It only made sense that time would have no problem fitting on to this list.  Unfortunately, this is not so.  Why does it bother me so much to do nothing?  Well, in order to keep my carefully carved out time from wasting, I have been giving it some thought.

Time is something that can never be got back.  Food involves a trip to the store, water a turn of a knob.  And electricity, well for the next 50 years or so, is in abundant supply.  But, time is elusive; it is something that is quietly fading away with each second on the clock.  I recently read this anonymous quote,  "Inside every older person is a younger one wondering what the hell happened".  I'm pretty sure wasted time played a role in this.

My face is beginning to show the soft lines of a worn road map and gravity is no longer my friend.  I wouldn't say my affairs should be got in order just yet, but I would be wise to maybe use the free map for some structured guidance for the time I do have left.  Okay, I admit if all goes well I still have half a lifetime to live, but considering how fast the first bit went, it might be in my best interest to plan a little more wisely this time.  A plan that has realistic goals that don't involve Italian nobleman sweeping me off to their villa after falling in love with the sight of me in a Roman cafe.  I have no idea what these goals should look like, but maybe I could use my new summer hours to figure them out.  I'll keep you posted.

Confession of a Mother

I have hit a wall.  In fact, I have hit several.  Being of a stubborn nature, it takes more than one thud to stop me.  But now after repeated run ins with something hard and perpendicular, I have decided to stop.  Not because rational thought and reasoning has been restored, but because I am just too tired and in too much pain to pick myself up again and continue.  So, I am quietly retreating.  I believe that I might have a slight limp as I walk off.  At the very least, there is a some bruising to the cerebral cortex.  I'm not sure exactly where my cerebral cortex is, but I do know that it is bruised, along with my spirit. 

The older my children and I get the more I see just how not super human I am.  In fact, there is some evidence that I may be subhuman in most areas.  As of this writing, I am a humbled person.  I look at a lifetime of progression and see that most of that progression was spent on a treadmill.  I have the appearance of one that has moved forward, without actually having accomplished much of anything.  To truly know oneself you have to look to the outside and see how 'you' have affected the lives of those around you.  I see my children and although they each still have two arms and legs and have yet to have a cavity between them, I'm afraid I have let them both down.  And much to my dismay, that it was through my own selfishness that this has been accomplished.

I'm not sure if any other mother has ever felt this way.  I suppose that most would say they have.  I can only say that for this mother I find it a lonely and fearful place to exist.  Being a solution based person, I have no doubt that once the bruising has faded a bit, I will have a 'new' plan of action.  Unfortunately, my ability to trust my own judgement will take much longer to heal.   

The Importance of Purpose

It seems that most blogs have a purpose and usually one that involves advice or inspiration.  After very little thought and contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that mine may not fulfill this requirement. Though this explains the somewhat low numbers in the reader department, it doesn't actually 'inspire' me to find a purpose.  I'm afraid that if I get the idea that I have something to advise the rest of the world on that it may go to my head, and I decided years ago that I didn't want my ego to become any larger.  Not that it's all that large mind you, but I'm just not comfortable thinking too well of myself.  A little humility has served me, if not well, faithfully these last 37 years.  Of course with that being said, I do find myself wanting to share my latest revelation.  Please don't mistake what I am about to say for advice, it is simply my latest ponderings.

A few years back, I decided that just because I may have 'gifts' or 'talents' that I didn't need to use them to conquer, change or modify the world.  I would be just as content quietly using them in my day to day life that involved a husband, two sons & three cats.  Recently, I have taken the time to rethink this philosophy and find that I may have been mistaken.  I think that a life without goals or a greater purpose can become rather dreary and sad.  I now wonder if by denying myself the chance to accomplish something greater than pantry organization (no matter how ingenious), I may have tempered or dare I say even destroyed my enthusiasm for life.  I often feel as if I am passed my 'use by' date.  I'm not quite curdled, but there is a strange odor coming from the container.  Is it right or normal to feel this way at such a 'young' age?  Perhaps, if I had left some room for uncharted exploration instead of settling in for a quiet life, I may still have been able to compliment a bowl of cereal instead of being reserved for bake goods.  This now leads me to my final thought which is that life, like a successful blog, must have vision and purpose to flourish and perhaps it's time that mine did.

The Tenth Thought

I was going to write a lovely piece on letting go, spreading wings and other such nonsense.  So, I prepared a hot cup of tea turned on my fake sun light and opened up my laptop.  And, that is pretty much where my brilliance ended.  My mind has been in rare form these last few months, cruising along at speeds that are not only distracting  but quite dangerous.  No sooner do I have a thought then 10 more go racing by.  The first 9, which most likely are perfectly rational rabbit trails from my original thought, are indiscernible.  The 10th is usually the one that gets processed.  Allow me to illustrate. 

Original Thought:  "I need a blog topic.  Hmm, how about something on letting go and how that helps us become better people?"
1. "Well, it can't just be on letting go, it needs to also address the dangers of holding on."
2. "Wow, that sounds like a lot of work."
3. "Work...I really need to work on that desk that needs painting"
4. "Mustn't forget to sand it first."
5. "Well, that will be messy."
6. "Green, how do I feel about the color green?"
7. "What color are frogs anyway?  Is pond a color?"
8. "Pond water looks a lot like my tea."
9. "I like tea cups, not the flowery ones mind you."

Now comes my 10th thought, the one that is actually put to use.  "I need to sit down and have a cup of tea."
Hence, no blog or at least not a brilliant one. 

The Comfort of Scarves

Writing, for me, is a way to be honest with myself.  I have so many thoughts swirling around day to day that I often can't distinguish the legitimate ones from the utter nonsense.  I find when the thoughts are just too many and things are a bit over crowded that all I have to do is write.  Somehow, the process of putting thoughts to paper, figuratively speaking, brings truth to the forefront and all the rest seem to fade away.  At least for a moment.  So, today I find myself full of nonsense and in search of a little truth.  Let's see what happens.

Once again my life is requiring some readjusting.  In theory this sounds exciting and there are moments when I have ideas that seem borderline genius, however it is in fact exhausting and not much fun at all.  The reason being that I have run out of new options and find myself forced to pull from previous forms of existence.  There is a part of me that wants to take comfort in the familiar and embrace the past, much like a favorite old sweater.  But there is another part that questions the sanity of this.  Are we not supposed to be moving forward?  How many times have I heard, 'you can never go back'?  Yet, moving forward seems impossible, at least in this place I now find myself.  The new sweaters available don't seem all that well made and I can't stand the current trend of long in the front and short in the back.  I require symmetry.  So, I move towards digging out my old sweater.  Only when I finally locate it, there is a hole in the arm and it appears quite misshapen.  What's a person to do?  Perhaps a nice warm scarf that can double as a blanket.  I am aware that this seems a bit like moving forward, yet it comes with a touch of comfort from the past, which in fact may be my answer.  This is where I find myself today, if I were to be honest.