12/31/14 Entry (New Year's Resolution)

As I bid goodbye to the year that was, and look towards the year that will be, I promise myself that whatever storms I’m caught in, the ultimate goal will be getting back to peace of mind.

It might be a real doozy of a storm where my trusty umbrella ends up getting destroyed, and I find myself getting drenched, getting angry or frustrated because despite preparing as best as I could by carrying around that umbrella, things just didn’t pan out as I’d hoped.

But.

Despite the fact that, with every passing second, I’m getting more and more soaked, there is a part of me that wants to get dry as soon as possible. I can guarantee that desire undoubtedly resides in the back (if not in the forefront) of my mind.

So, this New Year, when I find myself caught in a storm, I make a promise to myself to remember that my ultimate goal is to get back to peace.  If I can get “there” sooner than later, then, “Fantastic!” But some storms are something fierce so it just might take me awhile. And that’s okay. I’ll deal with the storm in the best way that I can, and look forward to eventually getting out of those wet clothes.

Happy New Year, Folks. Good luck on the inner and outer plains <3 See you on the playing fields of 2015.

Writing for FUN 2 (Dialogue with Inner Child)

Peering into the mirror, she sighed.

“I guess I could have more fun.”

“More?!” Came the incredulous reply.

Lowering her gaze, the Woman stared at the half-pint reflection of her once younger self and silently agreed with Shakespeare. “And though she be but little she is fierce.”

Half-pint continued.

“MORE, would imply there was some already being had. And if for one second MORE you entertain the notion that you’ve been having actual fun? WELL, that my dear, would be the mirage in your desert! To speak more plainly, that would be a sham! And furthermore, to quote Mary Poppins, “Harrumph!”

The Woman waited a beat, and then with both brows raised, replied, “Don’t you think you’re being overly dramatic?”

“I say, Woman!” Half-pint drew herself up to her entire length--all four feet of her person. “The end justifies the means!”

In reply, the Woman furrowed her brow.

Undaunted, Half-pint continued.  “And now that I have your undivided attention, are we going to have actual Fun or will you insist on perpetuating Fake Fun?!”

The Woman was beginning to wonder if this was indeed her inner-child. Surely, she had never been this decidedly forthcoming with her opinions in her youth.  But something else Half-pint had said caught her attention. “What do you mean, Fake Fun?”

“Cleaning and organizing the house—even if underscored by musical accompaniment of the 80ties variety comes to mind,” was the saucy reply.

“Excuse me!” exclaimed the Woman. “The cleaning and organizing has to be done, thank you very much! AND, since I LOVE 80ties music, I should be getting high marks for my creative approach!”

Half-pint regarded her coolly. “Making work ‘fun’” the latter word emphasized with air quotes, “is not the same as having real fun! And while, yes, a part of me wants to give you points for creativity, there’s another part that sees that as aiding and abetting.”

“That’s cop drama terminology” said the Woman rather passive aggressively. “I don’t believe this conversation warrants that. I’ve committed no crime.”

“You’ve committed a crime against FUN!” Half-pint exploded. “You’ve been aiding and abetting Fake Fun to perpetrate Identity Theft! Ohhh, it seems rather harmless at first—you let Fake Fun in—dress her up as Fun. But before you know it, you’re in over your head and find yourself automatically reaching out to Fake Fun. All. The. Time. Well, I’m tired of it! And Fun is tired of it as well! It’s fraud, Doll Face! Fraud!”

Mirroring the weight of Half-pint’s accusations, and the sinking suspicion that it was all true, the Woman sank down to her knees and for the first time during the exchange found herself seeing eye-to-eye with mini-her.

Could it be? Frantically, she searched her recent memory looking for one example of having fun—real fun-- for fun’s sake. She turned up nothing.

“Oh, no!” Her whisper barely audible. How had she gotten here? “Oh, no, what have I done? What am I going to do?”

Satisfied that she was now being taken seriously, “There, there,” Half-pint called out soothingly. “All’s not lost. Luckily, I can get you out of this predicament, as long as you do exactly what I tell you to.”

And with that, Half-pint reached out from within the mirror. “Well?” she asked.  “What’s it gonna be?”

For a few seconds, the Woman stared, motionless, at the outstretched hand. And then, with a dawning twinkle in her eyes, she made her decision. (© I.O.)

12/25/14 Entry (Merry Christmas to Me)

One of the most surprising things I received for Christmas was a birthday card from my father, who made his transition last year. My brother found it, as he is still sorting through his things, and gave it to me. It's one of those lovely, sentimental cards with lots of words that speak to the heart. My dad was really great at picking out cards that speak to the heart. Actually, my brothers are too smile emoticon Of course I bawled my eyes out. But it was/is a perfect, perfect gift. And I believe it made its way to me exactly when it needed to. Feeling the love heart emoticon

12/10/14 Observation (Subway Conversations-- Parents and Kids)

I love listening to parents engage in conversation with their young ones on the train. I really love it when they take the time to patiently and honestly explain things to them (i.e. "Why aren't we moving?" "Well, the train has stopped." "But why did it stop?" "Well, I'm not really sure." "Did it break down?" "I don't think so. I hope not." (Announcement comes on that we're waiting for the trains in front to clear before we can proceed). Parent continues conversation. "Ah, so, the train didn't break down. We're just waiting until we can move on." "I want the train to move." "Me, too. We'll be moving soon...I hope.")

12/9/14 Entry (Keeping Your Heart Open)

Sometimes, keeping one’s heart open can feel like an arduous task. Replacing old patterns of shutting down, shutting off, “protecting” it. But sometimes, some moments feel harder to re-pattern. And sometimes, upon further investigation, it’s usually several “small” moments that have accumulated. Accumulated enough to pack a punch. A punch of hurt that can’t really be ignored. Or can be "ignored" to the point of one’s detriment. I see two alternatives. Either allow the hurt to wall up the heart to further hurts. Which would also mean walling up the heart against experiencing more love. Or, work through the hurt, all the while encouraging it to really heal... Honestly, I don’t want to wall up my heart. I’d rather feel. I’d rather feel free. I’d rather feel peace. Sometimes, keeping one’s heart open can feel like an arduous task. But I prefer it to the alternative.

Writing for Fun 1 (The Twitch)

She landed in front of him with a flourish. A landing that, in it's expression, called to mind an exclamation mark.

“Hel-lo!” She trilled brightly.

No stranger to her, sometimes, natural exuberance, “Hi!” He replied warmly, enveloping her in a hug.

“Before we begin” She said when they’d separated. “I want you to know that my right eye is twitching.” Vanna-like, she gestured at the eye.

Still looking down at her, he paused for a moment, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Misinterpreting the confusion for concentration, she schooled her expression into neutral-- to better assist him, in bearing witness to the aforementioned twitch.

A few seconds later, he gave a short nod and she visibly relaxed.

“So you do know there was no need to draw attention to your allegedly twitching eye?”

“There’s nothing alleged about it,” She replied, threading her arm through his and steering him down the sidewalk. “It is quite real to me and has been happening, rather intermittently, ever since I woke up this morning.”

Clearing his throat, “Well, I have yet to see a sighting of this twitch.”

“Well, naturally!” She said, suddenly stopping them in their tracks. “As we all know, a twitch won’t make an appearance until the most inopportune of times.” She looked up at him expectantly.

“Sure.” He deadpanned without much conviction and then winced as her finger successfully poked him, rather sharply, in the side.

Satisfied with his latter response, she continued. “I bring it up for two reasons. Reason #1, I prefer not to be upstaged by a twitch, so I want all who interact with me to have fair warning before their train of thought is potentially derailed by said twitch. And by the way,” She paused pointedly, “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you?” He muttered, still rubbing his side.

“And Reason #2, I bring it up because I want to face it head on!” She made a fist with her right hand and launched it into the palm of her left. “Let’s not ignore the Elephant in the room! When a facial twitch strikes, I know it’s happening, and all who can see my face know it’s happening! Even if Le twitch is not currently apparent, at some point it most likely will, and so now, we’re all prepared!”

He couldn’t help himself. “Well, on behalf of the masses, I thank you for your thoroughness.”

Epilogue:

He saw two things and two things only. Her approaching finger and the twitch.