New Year's Resolutions

Yep, it's that time of the year, again. The season of making inventories of our year to see what worked, what didn't, and what changes we want to make. But even more important than this, it's also the season for every single doomsdayer to crawl out from beneath whatever methodology of crystal ball they use to make predictions about the days (and year) to come.

Why are we so obsessed with knowing what the future holds?

I think it boils down to three inter-related words: Trust, Hope, and Faith. We want to be able to Trust that our future is secure...but we will Hope for the best (perhaps, even preparing for the worst). Yet, in the absence of Trust or even Hope, we continue to move forward based on whatever or wherever we place our Faith...and, yes, every single person has Faith.

Are we hardwired for Faith?

Faith is a word that seems inextricably linked with religion or spiritualism. But I think Faith is much deeper and more prevalent than this. Faith is the unconditional Trust (and Hope) in something. The athiest may have no Faith in any diety, but they are still motivated by Faith. For some, it is Faith in themselves...for others, it is Faith in humanity. But, no matter what the source, every single person's life choices are motivated by their Faith.

And, New Year's Resolutions are absolutely about the renewal of one's Faith.

I think my Faith is changing. I have been living my life having Faith in my "cat-like" qualities of nine lives and always landing on my feet. But I also think that I have (long ago) reached the edge of this Faith's very limited ability to comfort and guide me through a dangerous and rocky terrain.

Let go, and let God...

I don't let go very easily...I never have. But, this inability to let go leaves my spirit cold and damp, ever heavy and exhausted. And I absolutely want to trust in something greater than myself, because I, alone, am incompetent when it comes to reconciling the painful thorns that remain deeply embedded within my spirit.

Transitions in Faith aren't easy...or quick to achieve...or, are they?

Maybe I'm making this harder than it need be...perhaps. Hope is much easier for me, thouh, than Trust.

Faith versus faith.

I have been living life with lower cased faith...that trust and hope in myself and my skills & abilities. But, what I'm looking for now is that Faith with a capital F...that larger than life Trust and Hope that keeps me warm, even when I am unable to light the spirit fires from within.

Yes, that's it...my personal new year's resolution is the search for Faith with a capital F...a Faith that transforms the rest of my life to its perfect plan and purpose for my life.

Dare I Hope to find or achieve this elusive goal? I shall try...I most certainly shall try...

At The Crossroads

I have continued to process this invisible "betting" process, and I realized this morning that I bet differently against other people than I do myself. My bets against others are from a place of certainty, of knowing (based on experience and expectation) what the outcome is going to be, so they tend to be a singlen specific outcome. (e.g., He's going to end up in a diabetic coma out in some random parking lot!

A single, specific outcome....bet made...sure and certain.

But the bets that I make against myself aren't so clean and clear, because they're made based on multiple probable/possible outcomes that roughly fall into three general categories.

P/PO #1: Plan succeeds without a hitch or glitch....i.e., everything works out just fine.

With respect to my trip to Nova Scotia, this equates to the car runs fine, and we have "clear sailing" all the way to Nova Scotia (and back). It's possible. It could happen. And if I focus all of my attention on just this outcome, I am filled with an exuberant sense of adventure that thrills my spirit. This is the best possible outcome, the one that I want, of course...but this isn't the only possible outcome I could bet on.

P/PO #2: Plan succeeds, but minor obstacle needs to be overcome along the way...i.e., Everything eventually works out, but there will be some minor problems along the way.

OK, so the car has minor issues along the way that are easily repairable, but we would still make it to Nova Scotia and back in spite of the minor setbacks. This would be an acceptable outcome, as well...I still succeed, even if it costs me some extra money. But this isn't a big problem, because I've prepared for this contingency.

Ah, yes...always be prepared.

I have learned that I have better chances to succeed when I have planned & prepared for many contingent problems. So, I upgraded the trailer with brakes. I replaced the car's ceramic brake pads with metallic. I've repaired or replaced old car parts as much as possible. I pack the trailer in the most weight efficient way possible. I have AAA roadside assistance. I have insurance on everything. I have prepared for this trip with as much preparation for contingencies as possible, so I am prepared for P/PO #1 and/or #2. But there is always that dreaded third outcome to bet on...

P/PO #3: Plan fails.

Worst case scenario is definitely that the car completely craps out on me, leaving me stranded someplace where I can't get back home....or even worse, someplace dangerous or life threatening. Yep, this is definitely the third outcome to bet on.

Windows close in 1 minute, make your final bets.

I want some kind of insurance policy that guarantees my safety. I want to know ahead of time that I will make it. I want every positive force in the universe to be betting on me to succeed right along with me! I'm not betting against my self, at all.

I want to succeed!

But here's what's so fascinating to me: I may want to place my bet on P/PO #2 (because this is the most likely outcome), but my fear of outcome #3 is what stops me from betting at all. Not because I am betting against my success. No, it's the fear of #3's possibility that stops me from turning the key and heading east.

I guess thoughts aren't the only currency used to place bets against myself.

So, here's the crux of the whole betting issue: Even though I am consciously wanting to place my bet on option #2, this Fear Factor is like a deadly snake whispering in my ear, scaring the spirit of adventure right out of the equation. And a sorrowful journey of anxiety and panic are just way too stressful to consider...and, so, I don't place my bet on ANY of the options.

But, by avoiding the possibility of option #3, I have stopped betting on myself.

I can't stop here. I can't let this be the way this chapter ends. Am I ready to give up and walk away from this part of my journey?

Am I really going to stop betting on my self, at all?

Not Knowing

Something interesting has happened on the otherside of no longer making unconscious bets about people. Well, two things: the first is the awareness that once I have placed my invisible bet on a specific probable outcome, my entire frame of mind aligns itself to support that probability. Since the majority of my "bets" are cynical and jaded in nature, my attitude automatically necessitates the negative synergistic alignment, which generally leaves me feeling surly and sarcastic....which, also does not readily lend itself for a positive mood or happy thoughts about self, or other.

Thoughts are the currency I use to place my bets about people.

The second unexpected finding is that when I intervene in my own thought process to challenge these bets, all of a sudden I am in a place of no longer knowing (or expecting) what the outcome will be, so there is no longer an investment of my frame of mind into the betting outcome. Which, surprisingly, frees up my emotions to be what they are in the moment...which opens up the whole realm of curiosity, which (for me) has the effect of lightening my spirit significantly.

Not knowing helps me to live more fully in the moment that is now.

These insights are quite significant, actually. And, I hope to continue amplifying the positive feelings that are emerging as I become curious about the outcome, rather than already "knowing" what that outcome will be.

There is a therapeutic intervention that is within the list of paradoxical interventions that has been used by Strategic Family Therapists to help break the habit of family members to make negative statements snd predictions. This involves the use of positive predictions, instead....such as, I predict I'm going to be happy all day long...lol.

I meant it when I said, All bets are off!

I have considered using this strategic technique with my current bets on people, but I am finding an odd enjoyment in this place of not knowing, instead...so, I think I will continue with the breaking of my betting habit....because it's working.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

As the fear of my dad's diabetes management fills my mind, I really have been able to stop the internal bets about his health, because the truth is I am not on control of how his body is going to respond to his lifestyle choices. People defy the odds every single day. So, I am learning how to live each day with the not knowing what is going to happen to him. The truth is that every day could be anyone's last day, so I am choosing to support my dad's success, instead.

I already know what's going to happen.

This is a HUGE bet that I make about people all of the time...and it usually involves the requisite accompaniment of rolling eyes. I caught myself today, and stopped the bet before I could cash in my thought currency...lol. And now I am back to feeling enthusiastic about the plans, letting them unfold in whatever way they are going to all on their own.

So...lots of positive change today.

And a last thought about this layer of my life journey. I didn't get here on my own. I really didn't wake up one day with the jaded and cynical colored eyes that shape and inform my interpretation of my life experience. It happened slowly and cumulatively as my brain was laying down it's neural circuitry during those early years of my life.

Understanding one's history isn't blame...it's self awareness.

I ran across a meme today that reminded me of an important truth, because this work that I'm doing is absolutely necessary, even if other people don't understand why I process so much of my journey.

It really is sooo much easier to build up a child, than it is to repair a broken adult.

And, while I understand the sentiment of this statement, I also don't think of myself as broken, because I'm not. My brain did exactly what God programmed my beautiful brain to do...it hardwired what it learned from the landscape of my very chaotic early life and the unfortunate traumatic events that I experienced along the way

My brain responded appropriately to inappropriate circumstances.

So, if the resultant circuitry requires much more effort than what other people need to do in their own lives (or what they think I should do in mine), then I am more than willing to do the hard work of fixing the way my brain is wired..

...because I believe that God thinks I'm worth it...and so do I.

May the Odds...

One side effect of not being able to sleep is the inability to stop the incessant mind chatter. But last night's chatter was a continuation of the question about "who is betting on me to succeed?"

This is not a "small" question. Meaning, I'm not asking a "woe is me, nobody is betting on me to succeed" kind of question. The question, itself, is rhetorical, of course. Because the "big" question is really about who are the collective we betting on to succeed?

Whose reality is it, anyway?

As I drove across town this morning my mind quickly created a list of Reality TV shows that are nothing more than a watered down version of the Hunger Games: American Idol, The Voice, Big Brother, America's Next Top Model, Project Runway, Survivor...the list could go on and on and on. And, the only real difference between any of these Reality shows and the Hunger Games is the degree of the elimination...that's it.

We are living the Hunger Games, with entire industries created to promote it.

And we all bet for or against the people in our lives every single day!

Statistics. Odds. Potential. Call it what you want, but this is the betting system our culture uses to make real-life wagers on or about the people in our lives.

I do it, too.

It makes me feel sick to my stomach to own this truth, but I do it too...I bet on people without ever realizing that I've done it! I bet against my dad every time I get scared about the way he manages his diabetes...and this list of all of the ways that I bet against the people in my own world could go on and on, too.

No more predictions of gloom and doom.

From this moment forward, I want to start betting on the success of the people that I love and care about...and that includes my self! I am the WORST offender in the "betting against me" camp. I undermine myself...I minimize my own strengths...and I pathologize my process to such a degree of painful shame that I stop my forward momentum before I ever get started.

I do this...to my self!

I am the one who has internalized the voices betting against me...I have done this to my self!

Well, no longer, because all bets are off!

The Real Hunger Games

I just finished my first reread of  Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games, and I can't stop thinking about this story (or the powerful characters that drive the plot). There are so many layers to it, that I am certain that I will be processing this book for many months to come.

Tonight's layer is about the role of the mentors.

As I am playing my practice chanter tonight, the all too familiar critical voices start to replay their toxic litany in my brain. Then it hits me how these internalized voices are exactly the same as the way Katniss has integrated Haymitch's character so much into her one psyche, she knew exactly what he was trying to tell her in the arena, even with no direct form of communication.

The voice of Katniss's mentor becomes inseparably synchronized with her own thought process.

Haymitch's voice was inside of Katniss...very much the same way these critical voices are inside of mine. And, more importantly, these critical voices are shaping my actions and responses in the real-life arena in very much the same way that Haymitch's internalized voice shapes Katniss's actions and reactions in the Capitol's Arena.

Why are my mentors so critical of me in my personal Hunger Games?

Katniss believes Haymitch hates her, but she also comes to respect his role (in spite of his critical gruffness). Yet, Haymitch isn't the only internalized voice that influences Katniss, of course...there's also Cinna. However, Cinna's internalized voice serves a completely different role than Haymitch's surly antagonistic voice. Cinna supports Katniss in a positive way, because (if he could) he would bet on her.

Cinna was betting on Katniss to succeed!

I can see very clearly how important it is to have positive and supportive mentors in my life...people who are betting on me to succeed. Do I have these people already and I've simply been overlooking their positive influence? Or do I need to figure out a way to find them?

Who are the people in my life who are betting on me?

It is an eye-opening realization to see just how many people in my life are actually betting on me to fail. Not intentionally...not maliciously...not even with any conscious knowlwdge that they are doing so. But their thoughts and opinions about me are, in effect, a bet against me...a bet that I will fail, a bet that I will disappoint in some way, a bet that I not live up to their expectations of what they think I should be.

The Hunger Games are real...and people are betting against me...not everyone...but they are. I feel it. I feel the truth of this deep and hard, because it is the truth. I'm not just imagining these critical thoughts. I have internalized them and let them shape my actions and reactions, yes, this is true. But these are the very real voices that are betting on me to fail, not to succeed.

Where are the people who are betting on me to succed?

Pacing

A dear friend posted a picture of her nursing school shoes, and a wonderful conversation emerged. Most notable (for me) was the symbolic relationship between the shoes and a person's pace. The shoes themselves have no pace, of course...it's the person inside of the shoes that creates the pace.

My shoes...my pace.

This may be a profound statement, but in reality (for me) this is not always the case, because I feel ever in battle with invisible forces that serve only to make me feel never good enough for failing to keep up with the expected pace.

You should be there, already.

It's me, of course. I am the one who has internalized this long list of shoulds. However, awareness alone is not enough to make this undermining stop.

Number 1 on my list is about my bagpipe progress. You should already be up on your pipes! This shaming force has undermined me so much, I have stopped practicing on the bagpipes themselves. I don't understand this, of course...when I so dearly want to learn to play them....and the not practicing only fuels the undermining even further.

Number 2 has to do with this trip to Nova Scotia, of course. Enough said.

When computer programming goes bad, all we generally have to do is reboot. If that doesn't clear out the glitch, we can erase everything and upload from the beginning. Brains don't work this way, of course...once a glitch is introduced, it takes great effort to rewire the connections to yield more positive outcomes.

Am I even wearing my own shoes?

There is another wise saying about not judging people until after walking a mile in their shoes. This truth implies that the shoes, themselves, hold some kind of inherent truth about a person or their journey. So if I am so easily undermined, I am forced to ask myself, "Whose shoes, then, am I wearing?"

Whose journey is it?

Truth tears burn hard. It matters how our parents send us out to face the world on our own. For me, it feels like whenever I walked my own journey, something bad happened to the parts of my life that meant the most to me. I can logically sort this through a rational lens that clearly shows no causal connection, but that doesn't change the feeling. And, I wonder if I've ever really stopped trying to live my mom's life for her.

I miss her so much. As angry as I was with her when she was alive, I have never really recovered from her loss. The news of her death hit me like a shock wave. I remember sitting in the chair in my COs office wondering what that sound was off in the distance...crying, someone was crying....only to suddenly realize that it was me....I was the person who was crying. My mind had completely blacked out. For how long? I'm not sure. Had I been standing I would have certainly fallen.

Some shockwaves just never seem to pass.

My mom is not to blame for where I am, now, any more than I am to blame for where she is. It's delusional wishful thinking on my part to believe that had I been at home (rather than stationed halfway 'round the world living my own life) I would have been able to save hers.

Bad things do happen when we're off living our own lives.

The shoes I wear have always been my own shoes, of course...even if I allow the thoughts and opinions of others (about how I should walk in them) to influence the way that I feel about myself as I do.

Does it really matter (to ME) how long it takes me to get up onto my pipes? Or how long it takes me to work out all of the related details for my trip to Nova Scotia? If it were just about me, it wouldn't.

There are many days that I actually wish I were marooned alone on a deserted island...with no one else to worry about except for me. It's a telling fantasy about how affected I allow myself to be at the expense of the opinions and expectations of others about me and how I choose to live my life. 

The funny thing is that these opinions & expectations don't really affect the choices that I make...just the way that I feel about myself when I do....which is interesting in a helpful insightful sort of way.

My shoes...my pace...my feelings.

Callus

Sitting here looking at the bottom of my feet, I notice something interesting. Even with the thick callus that has formed, the footprint remains clearly visible. Now, perhaps this isn't a Nobel Prize winning awareness, but it's important, to me, nonetheless, because this tells me that the callus is built up from the inside (i.e., the strength of the callus grows from the inside out).

My strength comes from within.

The other really important part of this awareness is about how the footprint remains clearly visible, no matter how thick the callus is. So, the callus, itself, remains unique to me. 

That which makes me stronger is unique to me.

Also, the callus is unique not only because of the footprintn but, also because the callus, itself, is built according to the unique obstacles that cause pain to my foot's tender flesh.

That which makes me stronger is specifically unique to my journey.

It's always a lovely gift when these amazing insights remind me of a deep and essential truth about who I am. But, it's an even lovelier gift when I can find so much beauty in something as callous as a callus...lol.

We may be able to walk a mile in another's shoes...but, now I can feel the depth of truth that even this is not enough to understand how or why another person walks their journey as they do.

I think I will walk differently today...as I make my way through this part of my journey upon the heels of inner strength that are unique to me, and me alone.

Home

I am all over the place today...literally. One minute I'm buying property here in Kingman...the next I'm packing up car and trailer to hit the road...and the next I'm migrating to Nova Scotia on a live-in caregiver's work visa.

What a crazy making day!

This flipfloppy place is all about home...and I feel absolutely schizophrenic today in this back and forth search for a way to create home (within the constraints of my very meager budget). But the problem is, where? Do I travel around and let the world be my home? Do I buy a piece of property to create the home that I come back to from one travel adventure after another? Or do I choose an ideally suited place and create home there?

How does a gypsy put down roots?

I guess it's called a container garden...a way to both root and travel at the same time...a traveling garden. And I don't even need to ask how to create this, because I've spent the last year doing just that...creating my traveling home that liberates me from a life of dependency upon the temporary use of other people's homes. My traveling home is real and ready to explore the world, so why am I in such a flipfloppy schizophrenic place?

Am I really done with the traveling life before I fully have the chance to experience it?

No, not done...but, definitely still pining for the more traditional ways to create heart and home...like a grieving process for the deeply rooted cultural values that haven't quite caught up with the change that I've been creating this year.

No, definitely not done...just waiting for the right moment to kick start this amazing journey into action....feeling terrified and exhillerated at the same time...

12 Minute Mile

This time last year I was ordering my Thanksgiving meal at the restaurant within walking distance from my downtown apartment. But when the tiny sip of gingerale hit my already cranky stomach like a lead brick, I wasn't sure if I should add food to the pain...so I apologized, then quickly walked home. And within the hour I was admitted to the local VA for a week long stay that very nearly ended in surgery.

I've waited a whole year to finally get my Thanksgiving dinner. So, today I went back to the same restaurant, ordered the same drink, the same meal, and this time I got to eat and enjoy it.

It doesn't matter how long it takes to do the things we want...it only matters that we get them done.

Gratitude is a funny thing. It's easy to be grateful for fancy cars, adoring spouses, and lots of money in the bank. But finding gratitude amidst the struggle in life requires a whole different set of gratitude skills.

My cousin's son died quite unexpectedly yesterday. He woke up Monday morning with what he thought was just a bad cold, then three days later he's on life support for a flu virus that took his young twenty-something life.

What am I waiting for?

I have intentionally put my life on-hold since June...to repair an aging vehicle ..to make safety upgrades to car and trailer...to save money for this trip to Nova Scotia. But at this point, what, honestly, am I waiting for?

Aaron's tragic death has lit a fire underneath my ass to wrap up my preparations and just get on the road!

It may have taken a year to finally get my Thanksgiving meal, but I did. So, it doesn't matter how long it takes me to get to Nova Scotia, I will get there one mile at time...

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig...

I remember the morning I left for basic training like it was just today. The recruiter showed up at 3am to pick me up, and off we drove into the cold dark morning. My mom was with me at my aunt's in Napa, and we both cried as if I were never coming home again...because that's how it felt...for both of us.

That's the way life changing events feel...they feel like you are never going to come home again.

I will be leaving Arizona in exactly one month, the start of not just a long over-due trip to Nova Scotia, but the start of a whole new way of creating my life...which is precisely the point of all of the work I've been doing to shed the layers of other people's expectations about who they think I'm supposed to be...a set of out-dated expectations that I have never wanted to live up to, but didn't know how to excuse myself from the clutches of the imposed duty and responsibility.

Living a life I create for myself is going to be no easy thing to do, but I am about to learn how to do it. Everything up to now has been preparation only...soon enough the world is about to get very, very real.

And I am just so aware of how different my life is about to become, and it feels like a part of me is dying...yet this truth doesn't make me sad at all.  And just like that cold dark morning nearly 30 years ago, I have no idea how all of this is going to turn out...but I am absolutely certain and determined that it will be the exact opposite experience of basic training...the exact opposite.

I don't think it matters how long it takes for us to find the truth of who we are from the inside out...it's just important that we do.

And I may never return home again, but I will be at home where ever I may be along this crazy adventure that took a lifetime to find...so, home again, home again, jiggety jig...

The Sun Explodes

I had a dream when I was at my dad's last week. In the dream, I am in the desert with my 8 or 9 year old child, when I look to the west to see the setting sun start to rise very quickly. I know the sun is about to explode, so I move the child into a semi-protected shelter to shield her. I don't see the sun explode, but from where I am standing I watch the blast of yellow particles blow past us. I turn around to embrace the frightened child, and tell her that mommy will do everything she can to protect her, but we both intuitively know that will not be enough. I also try to convey to her young mind how the world may be an unsafe place, but I want her to experience as much love and joy that she can in her childhood, even though I know that her innocence has been shattered along with the sun.

There are many powerful layers to this dream for me, but the part that I am processing right now is about the exploding sun...and asking deep, hard questions about what I choose and allow my life to revolve around...

What has become the sun in my world?

This is not an easy question to answer. Not because I don't know the answer, but because bringing the truth of this answer into the full light of day forces me to acknowledge what I know that I know, but have been avoiding and denying its existence because it is so painful to acknowledge.

The sun in my world has exploded...and the only question that remains is, "What is the sun that will replace it?"

Today is the first day in a very long time that is unencumbered by anything external that needs to be done...a day where I am free to do anything that I want...but, therein lies the problem. I have allowed the needs of other people to serve as my sun around which the rest of my life has revolved, so having a day that's all about me leaves me feeling sort of numb and flaggelating psychologically.

My sun...my needs...my passions.

To write this truth makes me feel narcissistic and self-centered, but the simple fact is that if I continue to put my needs second, I will cease to exist...metaphorically AND literally. Yet, I also believe that a life of self-centered needs is not the answer, either.

My Sun. . .my spiritual needs. . .my spiritual passions.

THIS Sun puts God at the center of my world, rightfully so...but, it is so much easier (for me) to put other people's needs before my own, yet, I don't know why. And every single time I try to readjust the balance, the guilt from a painfully deep place rises up to push myself aside, again.

So today is a day in search of the Sun in my own world...the unconditional source of never ending warmth that nurtures and feeds my spirit. I hope I can find it...

Middle of the Road

My trauma counselor uses the term "middle of the road" a lot...reinforcing that finding the middle of the road is what keeps us from avoiding and isolating. OK, fine...but what the heck does that mean in tangible everyday terms?

I think I'm finally having a  breakthrough on this issue, and I also think this it's really going to help to make a huge difference.

How do I know if/when I'm in the middle of the road?

As I'm driving through the terrain of MY life, the two sides of the road are essentially Anxiety on one side, with Depression on the other. But, I am starting to understand that what I call anxiety is really just a state of excited energy. Whereas, what I call depression is essentially an extremely low energy state...a state of psychological entropy if you will...like energy put into a cold box where everything slows to a non-functional pace. Which makes my middle of the road the living of each day between the high energy state, and the low energy state.

Still sounds abstract, but it's not!

If I am to live with PTSD, then I may not ever be able to change the fact that my brain reacts to anything new and different in such a way that I am constantly managing my anxiety levels so that I'm not having panic attacks. I can accept that...because it is what it is. And, the same is true of the depression, because that is the other side of the PTSD Highway...lol. It also is what it is.

But I recently started to feel the connection between my anxiety levels and my depression....the more anxious I feel, the more depression becomes like background radiation...but when the anxiety is decreased, the the depression is free to take over.

Finding the middle of the road means that I fill my day with things that will "excite" me enough to keep me in enough motion to keep the depression from overtaking my life. ...but not too much excitement to overwhelm me or trigger off panic attacks.

Well, duh!

Looking at what I've written seems so basic and simple, but there is a huge difference between abstract information and truth that is learned through our own experience. And, I finally feel like I have control of the reins of this emotional dichotomy...at least in this minute...lol.

You can't see it until you see it!

It's taken me a looong time to get here. Mostly because I had no idea what I was dealing with, so the emotional extremes were controlling me  But, I have been methodically paring down my life this year to remove as much anxiety as possible...and this process has helped me to be able to feel the difference...like the fish that finally understands water when it leaps up from the river.

I think I'm going to finally learn how to start living in the middle of the road...the middle of MY road!

The Rock

There is a rock that sits along the shore of the lake where I frequently hike...a rock that calls to me in the wee dark hours of the night when sleep evades me. And when I feel the pull of this rock upon my spirit, I am standing tall and proud upon it, playing my bagpipes loud and strong across the misted lake for the silent forest embracing both lake and lone piper upon its shore.

As I wept my way around this lake yestarday afternoon, carrying the full weight of my frustration with how hard it is for me to play the bagpipes, feeling ready to give up and walk away, the rock called to me again, as a gentle reminder that my spirit is already standing upon the strength of its stone...so it's not really the bagpipes from which I am preparing to walk away.

Why am I so afraid to embrace the spirit that so powerfully calls to me?

To imagine myself playing my bagpipes upon this rock terrifies me to my core. And, if it were just the lake and its forest I would have no problem to stand tall and let my spirit play. But the perceived judgment of the people cayaking across the lake's surface and hiking through the trees, this perceived judgment is what stops me cold and silences my voice.

There is nothing gentle or delicate about the voice of the bagpipe.

I don't know when (or how) I became so afraid of how powerful my voice is, but I do know that it happened long before I ever picked up the pipes that are making clear just how afraid I am to be loud and strong when I play...to be bold and powerful when I speak.

I think this is why I am having such a hard time transitioning from the practice chanter to the pipes. It's not that I'm not strong enough to play them...it's because I am unconsciously holding back when I play...unconsciously trying to soften the sound and lessen the loudness. But there is no way to minimize the powerful voice that is so quintessentially bagpipe...and, so, I weep, instead.

No, there is nothing delicate about the voice of the bagpipe.

Why am I so afraid of my power? I stand back, and hesitate. I wait to be invited in, rather than ask for what I want. I sit on the sidelines of my life as a not-so-innocent bystander wondering why I feel so isolated and alone. And, I weep my way around the rock where my spirit stands tall and proud as it calls me to do nothing more than to step into my self.

I may have wept my way around the lake yesterday, but I absolutely heard the rock loud and clear.

And I may be terrified of how powerful my voice is, but I am no longer willing to let this fear come between me and my bagpipes. So, today I opened up the great big garage door as tall and wide as it could be, then squeezed as hard as my little arm possibly could as I played my heart out...even though I felt terribly vulnerable and self conscious of what all of the people who were in earshot were thinking...and, even though I could actually hear neighborhood dogs howling as I played...lol. Today I didn't let anything stop the voice of my bagpipes from speaking as loud and strong as my arm could possibly help them to do on this day.

" Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid."

Today,I am certain that I will one day be strong enough to step into my spirit that awaits my embrace from upon the rock that calls to me in the wee dark hours of the night when sleep evades me...and, when that day comes, my voice will play loud and strong...even with a forest full of critters howling as I play...lol.

The Free Lunch

When I am wrong, I admit it, And, oh, how I am wrong! I am absolutely shocked by how complacent I have become about what I am agreeing to!!! Specifically, I am referring to all of these Terms of Service (TOS) Agreements that I have authorized (both on my cell phone, as well as online social media, in general) without even once reading them!

WTF is wrong with me?!

Well, I am reading them now, and not just reading them, but understanding the deeper significance of what they mean. Nearly all of these apps I've authorized have been uninstalled, and now I am trying to figure out how to deactivate the ones that come as a packaged deal with my smartphone.

How do I stay connected to people without selling off my privacy?

That is the problem, of course...the free lunch. Everyone wants free apps, but development of apps isn't free, so that money's gotta come from somewhere...and that "somewhere" is the bank of my personal information. I, myself, would rather pay for these apps with my money, than with the pieces of my personal information...but this is not even an option, as they make a whole lot more from third parties than they cpuld ever make from any user fee.

I'm ready to toss my friggen smartphone into the trash!

I honestly don't know what to do...the invasiveness is just so pervasive! But, am I really prepared to live like a hermit in defense of my principles?

What Dreams May Come

The world is stunned and saddened by the loss of Robin Williams to suicide, but the cold, hard truth is that we live in a world obsessed with happiness and sunshine...and depression is definitely one of the many dark stories that get labeled as "negativity" to be avoided...which makes the person who can sit and listen to (or walk with) a person whose life is being suffocated by depression one of the rarest of all human beings.

FYI...Depression is not "negativity" to be avoided.

I think this is the underlying problem with depression...it gets labeled as "negativity," then avoided at all cost...which means that the people struggling with the depression also get avoided...or worse...they are told (directly, or through non-verbals) by very well-intended people to "get over themselves," or to "move on," or the endless list of condescending advice that serves no one....and, leaves the person utterly alone in their fight for their life.

"I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone."

I have seen this quote by Robin Williams before, but it's particularly poignant on the other side of his suicide. My heart aches to think about how alone he had to feel (in order to end the painful life he could no longer bear). Maybe it's the depression itself that makes us feel all alone on the world, I don't know...what I do know is that depression is a living hell.

Depression is a living hell.

There are many Robin Williams' films that I have enjoyed over the years, but one of my most favorites is What Dreams May Come. It's a wonderful story, but what I love most about this film is how Robin Williams' character was literally willing to walk through hell to find his wife (who had ended up in hell after she had killed herself after a long and unsucceasful battle with depression).

How many people would walk through hell for me? For anyone?

I remember a particular moment in the middle of my divorce when a family member called and I was told, "I don't even have to ask how YOU are...you're always fine!" The person wasn't trying to be mean or offending at all...and probably meant it as a compliment about how strong and capable I am. But, I will never forget the blow to the truth about my life, and how utterly alone and insignificant this comment made me feel, as my life was literally falling apart around me.

There is so much more to a person than what we see on the surface.

Just because someone can laugh (or make other people laugh) doesn't mean they're fine. And, people who are depressed learn very quickly not to talk about the truth of their life when people politely ask how they are. But, when this becomes the status quo in a world obsessed by the happy sunshine, I understand completely how it starts to feel like the only way to escape is to end the dark story yourself.

I didn't know Robin Williams outside of the films he made, but I am profoundly affected by the way he ended the story of his own life. And I completely agree with him that the "worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone." So I am feeling personally very grateful that I, myself, have people in my life who I can trust won't avoid the polite social convention, "How are you?" just because the truth on the other side of my response is far from warm, fuzzy, or filled with the happy sunshine with which this chaotic world seems to be completely obsessed.

We all need people in our life to bear witness to the truth of our story, even when that story is infused with depression...especially when the dark story is infused with depression.

The In-Between

I'm no longer where I was...but, I'm also not (yet) where I want to be...which leaves me in the in-between space of the journey. The in-between isn't a bad place...it's just the segue between what was and what will be.

The in-between is a choice.

I am here because I choose to be. I am in a good place, actually. Sarra and I are safe. My time is my own. I'm staying in a judgment-free environment. I'm close enough to VA  facilities to continue with PTSD treatment. The trailer has been upgraded with the brakes to make travel safer. And, most importantly, I am able to add money each month into the travel fund for the trip to Nova Scotia that commences in the Spring.

I choose to be here, because this is the best of all possible choices available...for now.

The problem is that I need to keep reminding myself that this is a choice...because I'm chomping at the bit to move onward and upward away from the emotional stagnation of sitting and waiting in this in-between place, because movement, even wrong movement seems a better option than the sitting and the waiting.

I don't do well with sitting and waiting.

This in-between is the path of greatest resistance (for me)...but, I'm very grateful for everything positive and wonderful that this slowed down part of the journey has to offer...which is a lot, actually. So, if there is so much positive, why is there so much resistance?

I should be.........

Yep, that's it...the long, painful list of self-judgments about everything some part of me thinks I should be doing...but I'm not.

Perhaps Sharon is right..."the thing" itself isn't the problem...it's my self-judgments about "the thing" that"s the root cause of the problem...and definitely what's causing the pain.

My profile pic today says the following: "Allow time to recharge when you need to, so you can walk on renewed in both body and mind." Well, this is exactly what this in-between time is all about, because it's exactly what I need. 

So, I'll deal with this long, painful list of "shoulds" and "should nots"...because there is nothing about it that helps to recharge and renew my body, mind, or spirit.

Bystanders

It's not easy being a bystander to someone else's difficult life journey...whatever that difficult life journey is. I get it. It's the same reason why I severely limit my contact with world news...it makes me feel helpless and powerless, which then triggers the whole cascade of invisible emotional habits in response to feeling helpless & powerless to change the negativity in the world...and who wants to feel powerless and helpless all of the time? No one.

What do you do with a whirling dervish?

This is one of the questions I was asked yesterday by my trauma counselor, and my answer was, "avoid it." Which is exactly the answer that a person who has adopted the habitual lifestyle of avoidance and isolation would say...lol.

Avoidance and isolation have become the emotional habits of the way that I live my life.

But, the deeper truth is that I have invisibly adopted this lifestyle, because I have not (yet) learned how to be in the presence of chaos without absorbing it like an emotional sponge, or getting caught up in it like a powerless and helpless doll.

So, what DO you do with a whirling dervish?

According to my trauma counselor, you observe it. You watch it, but don't personalize or absorb the chaos. You see what's happenening, but you don't respond to it or get sucked up into the vortex of chaos. You simply observe it...which has nothing at all to do with "simple" or "easy."

What do you do, then, when you have become the whirling dervish in someone else's world?

It's how I feel, of course...that people avoid me because of the unpleasant feelings their own powerlessness stirs up for them. It's human nature...and, is probably hard-wired into our primitive survival brain to do so.

I still remember the workshop with the artist whose husband was so severely depressed he could barely function. He attended the workshop, but she wasn't caught up in the whirling dervish his depression created. I was very aware of it (because I felt uncomfortable by how depressed he was), but I was also impressed by how she set him up in the corner with the day beds and then let him be...just as he was. He was free to participate (or not), but his whirling dervish had no (apparent) affect on her. I'm sure it didn't start out that way, but after all of the years of living with a man who struggled with severe depression, she had learned how to observe without feeling powerless and helpless...which made it possible for her to love her husband just as he was...whirling dervish, and all. It was beautiful.

So, I today I am practicing the art of observation...and, also feeling very grateful for those who love and accept me just as I am...whirling dervish, and all...

Judgment

I had a brief conversation today with my trauma counselor about the depression, and her impression is that the problem isn't so much the depression itself...rather, the problem is my self-judgments about the depression.

We typically end up defending ourselves against the judgments made about us by other people, but what do we do with the harmful judgments that we make about ourselves?

She also suggested that I make friends with the bear...rather than try to control the situation by expending all of that energy running around shutting all of the doors and windows...but, how do I make friends with the bear that holds the power to kill?

Chickens and Bears

I have never had a dreams with chickens, but I did last night. I am looking out through the sliding glass door, and I notice tiny black furry baby chicks that warm my heart. But as I watch them, a HUGE black bear walks past, very interested in the baby chicks. I am afraid that the bear will get into the house, so I run all over closing doors and windows. I don't know what happened to the baby chicks, but a few of the full grown mama chickens are attacking the bear to shoo it away!

There is nothing "chicken" about chickens!

This was the dream I had right before I woke up this morning, so I am still processing what it means. I find it most interesting that the chickens (panicky anxiety) were shooing the bear (depression) away when I was too afraid of the bear to do anything to protect the baby chicks. The bear wasn't afraid of anything, even if the chickens were successfully shooing it away. And, I was afraid of the bear, but not the chickens.

I'm afraid of the bear, but not the chickens...intetesting.

The panicky anxiety might make me run around like a chicken with my head cut off, but the depression has the power to kill me...or, so, it feels.

Interesting dream, with some unexpected twists...but what do I do with the huge bear that terrifies me to my core?

Born Again

I just had an epiphany while piping...feeling like a tiny infant (as a piper) when I want to be a full-grown adult. And, it suddenly dawned on me that it's like I am starting at the beginning of a new life, so I have to learn to crawl before walking before running...no matter what new thing I'm learning. I said to myself, I feel like I have been born again...and that's when the epiphany smacked me.

That's exactly what being "born again" as a Christian is all about, as well.

We may be a full grown adult when we find Jesus, but being born again as a Christian is really all about learning how to live one's life as a Christian...so everything is essentially relearned through an entirely new life paradigm. People don't start out as spiritually strong adults...they must learn how to develop into one. Being born again is like starting over...to become like a child again...but the starting point is wherever the person makes that choice to become born again.

Being born again means that we start over again...from whatever point we are at when we make the choice to do so...when some part of us sprouts open and begins to develop and yearn for growth.

I don't know why this feels like such a huge epiphany, but it feels like the deepest secret of the universe has finally been revealed to me.

How to Save a Life

I am learning that it is impossible to play the bagpipes while I am in this depressed place...it is physically impossible to blow hard enough to create the pressure needed to play the bagpipes. The practice chanter is a different story, but I am learning a lot about just how much energy depression actually steals from my life.

Depression is like trying to blow bagpipes with a bag full of holes.

Anyone who has ever battled with depression will understand exactly what I mean. Well, any bagpiping depressed person, that is...lol. Holy crap, it just sucks the energy from my body, mind, and spirit!

And, I give up.

That's not a statement of resignation...it's a very tangible awareness of what I do when I'm depressed...I give up. I don't fight. I try to blow the bagpipes...can't...so, I just stop trying, and put them down. I don't get angry. I don't even get frustrated. I just give up...because it hurts to push hard enough to create the pressure needed to blow these pipes.

I had no idea how much I give up, when the depression overtakes my life.

It's why I don't walk...or exercise...or hike (when I'm depressed). It takes so much effort, I just give up. I stop trying. I put my life down and succomb to the weight of the depression, because it hurts to push through it.

I absolutely understand why people take their lives when they're depressed...happy people just don't commit suicide. And, I am not suicidal...but, I'm not fighting hard enough for my life, either...I'm giving up way too easily.

I fight for everyone else, but I don't fight for myself.

OK...so, what do I do with this awareness? How do I deal with depression without giving up? How do I fight when I'm exhausted? How to I push through when I feel like I have no strength?

I don't have answers to these questions (yet), but I think these bagpipes just may be saving my life...

The Reason

A friend called this morning to make sure that I'm ok...I am...and, I'm not. But, something wonderful emerged from the conversation, and that is the awareness that no matter how uncomfortable and painful my life is right now, I am exactly where I need to be, and everything happens for a reason.

Everything happens for a reason.

I do believe that everything happens for a reason. But, I also believe that there isn't just one single reason for why things happen, either. There are cause-and-effect reasons...spiritual purpose reasons...and also reasons that we assign to situations and circumstances to help us make sense of difficult things.

Everything happens for many reasons.

Like how anxiety happens in my life because my brain gets easily stressed and overwhelmed...but, it also happens because the frenetic movement of the anxiety helps to keep the dark depression from overtaking me and my life completely. Which means that as I remove the stressors that cause and create anxiety, I am also removing and mitigating the anxiety that serves to mask the depression. Which means, there is a very good reason why I am feeling so depressed, and that I have two choices: (1) I can choose to do things that will generate enough anxiety to mask the depression; or, (2) I can keep my ass put, and deal with the depression directly.

Either way, the choice is mine.

I'm not saying that I have been intentionally creating an anxious life to avoid dealing with the depression; however, on the other side of the intentional choices that I've been making to remove the stressors that create the anxiety, I can finally see how the anxiety in my life has been masking the depression (which has bubbled right up to the surface)...which introduces an entirely new set of choices into the equation.

Right now, I have this incredible gift of time...time without needing to work or take classes for employment seeking certifications...time to save up travel money for my trip to Nova Scotia...time to spend with my 80 year old dad...and time (it seems) to keep my ass put long enough to confront this depression head on....or, at least a layer (or two) before I head East in the Spring.

There is a philosophical belief that we always live in the best of all possible worlds (which has never been a very comforting thought for me), but I think this applies very well to where I am, moving along the best of all possible life paths (at least, for now). And, there is no reason why I can't pack up the car and begin the trek to Nova Scotia today...except that to do so will create the life movement that will once again mask the depression that clearly needs to be addressed.

So, my way is just that...my way. And, I don't want to simply medicate the depression away (which is pretty much all that standard treatment options have to offer), but I do want to understand the reason why it happens in my life. Or, to more accurately clarify, that I want to understand more than just the cause-and-effect reason why the depression happens in my life...and that will take some time...which is a fortunate blessing that I have plenty of time, right now.

I don't think this next part of my journey is going to be fun or easy,
but I do think it will be worth every bit of pain and struggle...because I truly believe that the depression is just another mask waiting to be removed...

Bubble Boy

I get that people (in general) don't understand me or my lifestyle of avoidance and isolation. To look at me, there's nothing "wrong" with the picture that they see. I'm smart, articulate, funny...but these are not the only relevant facts. Psychologically, I'm a lot like "bubble boy," only there's no plastic bubble around me to trigger the awareness of difference.

There is a reason why "avoidance and isolation" is the hallmark symptom of PTSD.

Bubble Boy's immune system is impaired...but in all other ways, is perfectly normal...just like me. Except, in my case it's my brain's danger-alert system that's impaired, so my brain interprets everything through a series of faulty filters that identify anything out of the ordinary as a threat, which then triggers the fight/flight/freeze response in varying degrees...a process that is exhausting on every level possible. Bubble Boy's impaired immune system is protected by the plastic bubble, whereas my impaired danger-alert system is protected by a lifestyle of avoidance and isolation...an invisible bubble that serves the exact same propose as Bubble Boy's bubble...only, it's invisible, and very few people understand it...which only increases the social isolation.

My hyper-reactive brain is a real pain in the ass, making even the simplest acts of daily living exhausting and overwhelming. My brain hurts, all of the time, making any interaction with the "outside" world stressful and painful in a way that breaks my heart, because living on the inside of this protective bubble is neither fun nor socially functional. And, living a life feeling constantly afraid (for no logical reason) to do the things that I very much want to do makes this life unbearable and increasingly pointless.

I no longer know what to do...

A person I once knew told me that her mom's philosophy of life is that we all live for as long as we can stand it. I think this woman understood the deepest truth of the nature of living a painful life...and the simple fact that we all have limits to how much pain (psychological or physical) that one can bear. 

As for me, I am running out of options that provide any degree of hope that my brain will one day be able to heal enough so that it doesn't need this lifestyle of avoidance and isolation to protect itself...yet, accepting the truth of "what is" feels psychologically heinous and impossibly unfair.

High School...All Day Long

I am thinking back to high school, recalling how clique-centered it was, remembering what it was like for the kids who were just so different they didn't seem to fit in to any clique. We tell these kids that if they can just mKe it through high school, they will go out into the world and find their tribe....that life does get better on the other side of high school.

But what if it doesn't?

Today is not a good day...actually, it hasn't been a good week. And I realized this morning that life where I am now feels a lot like being one of those kids in high school who just doesn't seem to fit in anywhere...only there's no "life after" to give me hope that life will one day improve.

I feel like I am still in high school, and I am that weird loner kid who no body wants to talk to or be around...but there's no graduation day to liberate me from the living hell of what has become my life.

Like I said, it hasn't been a good week.

This is it...this IS my life...and it's unbearable as it is. I'm not feeling sorry for my self, my brain hurts all of the time...my life hurts every day...and the lifestyle of avoidance and isolation that becomes the hallmark symptom of PTSD doesn't really help to make a difference, so I no longer know what to do...

I am stuck in high school...all day long...and I don't know how to make peace with the flaws and weaknesses of a brain gone awry...

Am I There, Yet?

I don't know why some life lessons need to be learned over and over, but it is what it is. Tonight I am reminded (again) that I am trying to "force" myself to be somewhere I am not...and I don't mean geographically...I am talking about my piping.

What I have finally realized is that I am trying to be a band piper, when I haven't even mastered being a solo piper...which leaves me feeling chronically frustrated and disappointed with my piping ability... because i can't play fast enough to play with other pipers...when I should just be relaxing and enjoying all of the solo piping journey.

How do I learn how to live in the moment?

Such an important lesson...yet the simplicity of its truth continues to elude me.

Pros & Cons

There is something wonderful that happens when we talk about what's gnawing at us beneath the surface (and, no, I'm not talking about fleas or gnats or bedbugs...lol). I'm talking about that vague feeling that something's off kilter in our psyche, but it's not yet clear what that something is. And the simple act of talking can bring that vague invisible feeling right up to the surface to look at in the full light of day.

A conversation with a friend last night has caused some deep retrospection about pieces of my life that are incongruent with one another. My friend suggested that I make a list of "pros and cons," but this tool is really most valuable when there is a clear and specific issue at hand...and that is not the case with my situation, as there are many different issues that weave through each other. So, instead of "Pro v. Con," I made a list that compares "The life that I have" versus "The life that I want."

Two important insights emerged. The life that I have is (for the most part) already the life that I want, so I have already made the major life changes. The biggest glitch in the plan, however, is this pervasive fear of "what if something happens and I can't get help?" But there is also another important insight that emerged.

My current life plan isn't a viable plan...and the plan needs to be changed.

But one part of the plan that isn't going to change any time soon is the central piece around which everything else in my life is ordered. We all have it...the single most important part of our life around which every other decision is made. For many, this is family. For others, it's work. For some, it's their personal passion. For me, it's been about doing what I want with my free and unencumbered life...but this focus is changing to what best supports my brain's healing.

For nearly 30 years I have been forcing my brain to deal with every other decision that I made, regardless of how much the stress of these decisions was hurting and harming my PTSD brain. I didn't know that I had PTSD...I was told by well-intended doctors that I had an anxiety disorder, and needed to learn how to relax and think positive thoughts. But, the changes that I've made since my brain's struggle has been correctly diagnosed have absolutely helped my brain to heal...especially the decisions that I've made this past six months. So, maybe every single piece of my life isn't exactly where or what I might like it to be, the progress I've made is well worth the crap I have let go of along the way...which includes plans that no longer work.

What I'm doing right now is working to support my brain's healing. And I'm not going to force my brain to process a bunch of arbitrary stress just because it's "the plan." Not any more, because in the exact same way that a diabetic needs to change an entire lifetime's habits in lifestyle once the diagnosis of diabetes is made, so, too, does the person whose brain is correctly diagnosed with PTSD.

Stress is to PTSD, as glucose is to diabetes.

I can look at the diabetic in my life and be angry with him for eating brownies for breakfast or defiantly guzzling a HUGE glass of orange juice...but I am doing the same thing every single time I make a decision that forces my brain to process more stress and anxiety than it can handle. Stress & anxiety for my PTSD brain is exactly like sugars for the diabetic. Wow...powerful truth.

Well, I have a lot of work ahead of me, but right now that work entails a revisioning of "The Plan." And, accepting the reality of what my brain can and can't process right now is the central core factor around which the plan will ned to be developed. The hope is that my brain will heal well enough to be able to process stress more efficirntly, because life IS stressful...lol...even under the best of circumstances. But forcing my brain to process what it's just not able to process is no different than the diabetic who eats whatever he wants, then forces his body to process the overload of sugars with more and more insulin.

I refuse to use psychological Iinsulin to force my brain to process the stress created by lifestyle choices that I make.

So, I have a choice...I can order my life plan around doing what I want, no matter how stressed my brain might get....OR, I can order my life plan around what will best support my brain's health and healing, even if that means putting some things on hold that I want to do.

Reality can be a real pain in the ass sometimes...lol...and PTSD is definitely a reality that bites pretty hard, indeed. But this truth finally clarifies the Pro v. Con list that I need to make...the pros and cons of a life plan that best supports my brain's healing.

Yup...that's the list, indeed!

Free Will

I have had several experiences recently to observe "free will" in motion, and I have come to believe that how Free Will has been defined no longer fits with what I have observed. Free Will is generally accepted to mean our God given right to make choices for ourselves, but I don't think that is what Free Will means, at all...or was ever intended to mean.

The ability to make choices for ourselves is called Self Will...and has nothing whatsoever to do with Free Will.

The person who refused medical treatment after passing out from heat exhaustion (possibly heat stroke) was exercising Self Will. And, even more profoundly, the diabetic who uses insulin in such a way that he continues to eat whatever and anything he wants because he doesn't want to give up the foods that brought on the diabetes in the first place is also exercising Self Will.

Both of these men were making choices for themselves, but the choices were contrary to anything positive or life supporting. I don't know the first man well enough to understand the deeper motivation, although I do know that he is stubborn to a fault (which seems like an addiction to one's pride or self image). But I do know that the second man is emotionally addicted to the foods that are going to pug him into a diabetic coma (and eventually kill him).

How can any choice that is made to satisfy self-pride or to feed an addiction be considered free will?

It seems to me that choices made to feed any form of addiction is a will that is actually in bondage, a slave to the addiction...and there is nothing free about a will that makes choices out of fear or that support a slave master's agenda.

Self Will is making decisions based on what we want because the self image or addiction coerces us to make that choice. Free Will is a will that is free...and that has nothing at all to do with the convoluted way this concept has been contorted.

I think that a will that is free is a will that is aligned with God's Will. I used to feel confined by this notion, but now I understand that God's Will for me is nothing more than the life purpose encoded in my DNA, and woven through my spirit...so why would I want to make any other choice than what will support this amazing gift of life that I have been blessed to receive?

Freedom is the quintessential struggle of human civilizations throughout the entirety of human history....freedom of mind...freedom of spirit...and, yes, even freedom of choice. But just because we may have the freedom to make a choice, does that, then, mean that any and all choices are equally valid and OK to make?

Each of us must answer this question for ourselves, of course...but I no longer want my will to be a slave (particularly to my fear of what other people think and say about me behind my back). I want a free will, a will that is free to make the best choices possible to suppprt my spirit's purpose on this earth...to align as completely as possible with God's will for me.

I do not think this will be an easy path to walk...but I am going to walk it anyway...

Snopes

I am generally careful about information that I share, but I reshared something a few weeks back that prompted a (very grateful) "Snopes.com" alert message from a friend. I am ready to adopt a "no share policy with anything I find in Facebool...lol...but an even deeper problem has evolved, because in this ever-evolving technological world,  I don't know if credible information sources exist, at all...but, even more problematic thsn this is, how did Snopes.com become the "go-to" place for the fact-checking truth?

I did some snooping on Snopes, and what I found (if I can trust the source that dropped the low-down snoops on Snopes) is that it was started by a husband and wife who donned the Fact-Checking super cape all on their own. But what I found most interesting is that this husband used to be a great big online spoofer himself...lol...yet, now he and his wife are the go-to source for all truth and Facebook facts?

Snopes isn't the only place for facts to be checked, as my conservative friends who believe Snopes to be left-wing biased have educated me on the real fact-checking source of truth. I can never remember the name of these other sites, so I guess that makes me a left-winging truth seeker...lol.

After researching Snopes.com, I honestly don't care how many awards they've won for their myth busting sleuth and truth work...it's a problem for me that our culture has turned this online spoofing husband and his wife into the end-all and be-all of fact-checking gurus!

Which leads me back to the fundamental problem of not knowing how to trust the information that invisibly  bombards my mind every single day....both inside and outside of Facebook!

I don't have any good solutions at this point, just the awareness of how fragile the credibility of truth and information is these days.

Inspiration

I think for most people, when we think of the word "inspiration," warm and fuzzy images and feelings come to mind...the "positive" sources of inspiration. But I have just had an epiphany about inspiration, one that helps me to see that any experience (positive or negative) can serve as a source of inspiration.

Yes, even negative life experiences can inspire.

This may seem like a no-brainer stating of the obvious, but (for me) it changes everything. Because when I get the wind kicked out of me (metaphorically speaking), I tend to gasp for air for a very long, long time...when I should actually be looking for how to breathe again...meaning, how to be inspired.

Looking for the inspiration from experiences that kick the wind out of me transforms the emotional experience immediately.

As I look back over the course of my life through this new lens, it is like looking at a completely different terrain. I can see clearly how choices that I made were inspired by both positive and negative experiences. I don't feel grateful at all for the difficult journey, but I think that's what's so enlivening about this epiphany. I don't ever need to feel grateful for a given experience...but I can acknowledge that it absolutely inspired me to make certain choices about me and my life.

Why is it that I have been invisibly taught that inspiration arises only from the warm and fuzzy experiences in life?

The most recent emergence of inspiration involves the non-profit piping society I created last year. The creation of which (in and of itself) was inspired by the personally devastating collapse of the pipe band that I had first began to learn how to play the bagpipes. But my decision to move forward with the piping society (rather than dissolving) by adding the promotion of awareness of how bagpiping can be used as music therapy for Veterans eith PTSD is directly inspired by several "negative" experiences I've had this past year. Had I not experienced them, I would not ever have been inspired to change the direction of the piping society's mission. And, I never have to feel grateful for the painful life experiences, either!

Inspiration versus Gratitude.

The new wave of Positive Psychology is centered and focused on gratitude. A daily gratitude journal is part of the program as a way of training the brain to look for gratitude. The problem (for me) is that I am never going to feel grateful for something crappy happening to me, ever. So tying to "force" my brain to find the crumbs of gratitude along the path of doom and destruction quite honestly feels obnoxious and abusive to my spirit.

The bottom line truth is that I DON'T feel grateful when bad things happen...and i'm not ever going to...but these bad things can still inspire me to make adjustments and corrections to my life direction.

This epiphany occurred when I found a Facebook meme about how if a person is in my life, that's because they inspire me in some way. And my very first internal response was, "Well, then I need to clean house, because there's a whole lot of people who don't inspire me, at all!" And, that's when the epiphany transformed the way that I think (and feel) about inspiration.

I can be inspired by an experience, even when I am in great personal pain! Inspiration is nothing more than breathing...breathing through the pain...breathing through the hard truth and acceptance of what is...and breathing in new possibilities while exhaling the toxic byproducts of what is no longer useful for the body, mind, and spirit.

Inspiration is the way we stay alive.

So now I am looking for the inspiration in all of my experiences (especially the ones that feel hurtful and difficult), and I am already starting to breathe life back into my journey...without feeling bad or guilty about my inability to feel gratitude for the crappy things that people do to one another. 

And I don't know why, but this new way of thinking about inspiration has allowed me to begin to feel more joy about what I am doing in my life, even when I am certain that the people around me will remain publicly critical and undermining my efforts behind the scenes...I no longer care about what they do...because all of their crappy negativity is what is inspiring me to personal greatness...lol.

I am not ever going to feel grateful for the crappy things that happen...but I do feel grateful that I can still be inspired by even the most challenging of life's lessons imposed upon my journey...so, breathe on...beeathe on, Iindeed!

Public vs. Private Space

My recent focus of attention on the way Facebook uses NON-Facebook-related personal information to sell advertising (i.e., make money off of my personal information about me and my friends) has caused a lot of internal conversation. But, this morning I was able to see a clear distinction between what fundamentally constitutes public versus private.

The bottom line is this: the only absolutely personal information is that which I store within my own mind...the memory that is stored and the thoughts that I think about them. That's it. This is the only 100% guaranteed personal information. Period.

As soon as I have shared this personal information in any form whatsoever external to my mind's thought form, I have moved the personal into a world with public access. I have been running on the faulty assumption that shared information can remain fundamentally personal. It doesn't...because the only information that remains fundamentally personal is that which never leaves the boundaries of my internal thoughts and memories. 

And, the parallel truth to this is the fact that once I have made a choice to release my personal information into the external (i.e., the world of public access), all information is up for negotiation of one form or another.

Shared personal information is tricky business, indeed!

If I write my personal thoughts in a journal, it is personal information, but it is held within a public form that needs to be respected as personal by every other person in the world in order to remain personal. But this does not always happen...diaries are all too often read by people who were never given permission to read them.

The same is true with "private" conversations. I can have what I consider to be an exclusive conversation (or experience) between me and another person, but I have still made this information or experience accessible by the public world, so I must "trust" other people to respect my boundaries of privacy...which is precisely the problem.

Shared information or experiences create multiple guardians of the boundary around the information/experience...and everyone must agree to the same rules of protection in order for information (or  experience) can remain personal.

I am never going to agree with the rules by which social media plays...and they are clearly not playing by my rules.

I no longer believe that information released into the world of public access can be protected as personal....because I live in a world where the boundaries of privacy have exploded to a point that the only safeguards that exist to protect my personal privacy is to NEVER let it leave the terrain of internally stored thoughts and memories. Period.

As nauseating as this fact is, every single word I speak and write becomes publically shared information into the world of public access. Well, fine. Knowing this fact empowers me to make choices more wisely. BUT...this fact does not mean (or can not be reasonably extrapolated to mean) that this "publically shared" information becomes part of the Public Domain!

Social media has taken the liberty of redefing personal information stored in a publically accessible form as public domain...free to be used in whatever way they can make the most money!

Just because I have shared internally private thoughts into the world of public access does not mean that it does not remain personal!

My diary retains its personal rights...my created art retains its personal rights...and, certainly, anything that I store onto my personal storage devices (thumb drives, personal computers/tablets, and smart phones) should also retain its personal rights....yet, social media has completely erased all boundaries around this personal information!

Cogito ergo sum.

I am thinking back to my intro philosophy course, and Descartes' powerful insight...cogito ergo sum...I think, therefore, I am. For René Descates, this truth meant that a person can prove their existence by and through the awareness of their thoughts...powerful stuff, indeed.

But he may have been more right than he ever could have possibly known, because this morning's clarification of the definitive fundamental boundary between public and personal remains one's ability think internally, privately, in solitude and exclusion of every other human being on earth...because this is the only realm where one truly exists in unnegotiated wholeness.

I think, therefore I am whole and completely in control of my personal information and experience.

I don't know what that would look like in Latin...lol...but I do know what it feels like within my being. And I, for one, will become a much better guardian of my own personal information.