Author: Lisa

Happiness in simple things

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

Like finding just what you need in a place you maybe wouldn’t have thought to look. Inspired by the finding of a black bow tie at a thrift shop near downtown Indianapolis. It was the finishing touch to a Halloween costume and just as I began to think “we might need to go to a tuxedo shop somewhere and find a new one” there it was. I found it. All I needed was patience and the willingness to SEE. And all it cost, this bit of joy, was 40 cents!

Thrift
A dented gold bell tinkles a welcome
Where mounds of long forgotten and discarded things are sifted and sorted and hanged and shelved in order of size and type and color, though not so orderly that the undiscerning eye can find the value
But where small treasures nonetheless exist
where old things, used and dented and perhaps even abused things
When found by loving hands
Can be made new

Sky falls

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Sometimes the sky does fall
Crashing down
A million tiny pieces
And there is no way to fix the looking glass to hide the flaws
So the rain pours
And your chest hurts from the weight your heart has carried
And your fingertips bleed from the many times you tried to sweep away the pain of your brokenness
And your knees
Oh God
Your knees are raw from all the times you prayed to see the sun shine through the shattered bits of sky
The bits of sky you still see when you look up
The bits that remind you of the beginning
When it was all brand new
The bits that bend the sunlight as the rays pass through
And like a prism, scatter the beams
Leaving rainbows in unexpected places
A laugh overheard as you make your way down the aisle of a familiar store
The wag of a shaggy dog’s tail as he runs to greet you at the door
Hope that someday,
Someday maybe
You’ll feel brand new again.

After hearing Jane Fonda

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I recently listened to a podcast that had me wondering why it takes so long for us to accept who we ARE and in that acceptance LOVE ourselves and be comfortable in our own skin. It’s elusive, this “be who you are because you are the only you” that is sold to us in so many self-esteem promoting “messages”. The “love you” messages are lost, mainly I think, because we are told so often that who we are isn’t “right” or enough. Bombarded with messages of inadequacy actually. Just turn on the television or open up an magazine and you’re there. So you spend your childhood feeling insecure and your teen years feeling ridiculous and your 20s feeling like you still can’t compare and so it goes into your 30s, 40s…and on and on if you don’t come to grips with who you are. The words of Jane Fonda in this podcast resonated as I listened. I am 41 and only now feeling like I can be who I am, Lisa, with no fear. She says in the podcast that she didn’t feel that way, like she could just be Jane, until she was in her 60s. I can’t imagine. I thought 40s was late! I always admire people who seem to get to this point earlier on in life. I’m so grateful that I’m here. I made it to the point where I can look in the mirror and embrace every aspect of me. And oh I am so looking forward to growing more fully and completely into this feeling of freedom. Because it is extremely freeing to just be me. As I contemplated the podcast earlier today, this came to mind so I wrote it down to share with whoever might stumble upon this blog post:

Being yourself means accepting the ugliest parts of you with the knowledge that they can become the most beautiful through your own WILLINGNESS to metamorphose – to, just like the caterpillar, do the WORK necessary to transform – no longer to crawl, but to fly.

What a feeling it is, to fly!

You can listen to the podcast here: http://www.wnyc.org/story/death-and-divorce-gave-jane-fonda-strength/

Home

~ Lisa ~ 1 Comment

Free form verse I wrote awhile ago, and thought I’d share.

In every house
there is a soul
Some tame, some wild
But souls nonetheless
With tales to tell
Secrets only the listener knows
Raw truths marked only by the passage of time
The lines soft and welcoming
Like wrinkles in an old woman’s smile
Scars on that pristine facade
Passersby see and judge
But never feel
They never know how the strong winds have ripped at its bones
How fire licked softly at its skin and turned the white picket fence to ash
Yet it remains
As promising as a newborn’s cry as dawn breaks upon its beloved head
Its foundation made a fortress through the pain
Standing silently under a cloudless blue sky
Waiting only for its master
To come home

Random, because I miss you

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I see you in the strangest places
A parking lot
A crowded mall
A child’s smile

And I realize…I miss you
And I realize it doesn’t matter

Fall wind still blows the leaves
And Winter ushers in the silence
That lives until put to rest by Spring
Who surrenders to the heat of Summer

And the sun still rises and sets
On an expectant and anticipating world
Even if it never rises in my heart

Because the fact is…
You went away and left me with a ghost that haunts
And calls to me in the dark
Reminding me with every sigh
All you were to me.

Thank you Maya

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

For reminding me that I am, above all, a poet and that even if my words are my own and never touch the hearts, minds and souls of anyone, that I am living authentically when I put pen to paper and set my soul free…

Mind Over

You serve as inspiration in the best
worst way
My muse, sweet pain
Your lips
embers that ignite what another could never
Life and death wrapped in a caramel kiss
Be mine be mine be mine I beg
Despite my pleas, you fly…
Mind over says to let you go
History says you’ll return again
Where my heart awaits
Ever the Fool
To open the door

 

Half marathon thought marathon

~ Lisa ~ 2 Comments
In Corral T, waiting for my wave to start.
In Corral T, waiting for my wave to start.

On Saturday, May 3, I ran a half marathon in Indianapolis. I’m not going to get into the specifics of training or go on (too much) about how difficult it is to run that many miles because honestly, yes it’s a lot of miles, but it’s not 26.2. I have this habit of always remembering that what’s bad could always be worse. Keeps me in a more grateful state of mind. Anyhoo, I did train and I prepped myself as much as someone who’s never run a half marathon before could possibly prep. My body was definitely ready for the run. However, I was not t prepared for the flood of thoughts I’d have throughout the run, how emotional I would be, or how much I’d learn about myself. I finished the race in 2:27:04. Not too shabby for a 41-year-old first timer. Strangely, as I got closer to the finish I began to think that I could definitely pull off 26.2. I am now trying to decide which 26.2 to run. In Indy, I saw some awe-inspiring people along the way. Firefighters in full gear. Military personnel in boots and carrying full packs. A man running on a prosthetic leg. A woman in a wheelchair. All driven by a desire to get to the finish…I was pretty much left in awe of humanity, because I will tell you, we are pretty amazing when we set out to do good things…our grit. Our determination. So beautiful!  I know if you’re reading this you have a dream or a goal…something you’d like to accomplish. I’m telling you, DO IT. NOW. Believe me when I say, YOU CAN.

When writer’s block gets you

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I recently read that when you have writer’s block, one of the best things to do is write anyway. So that’s what I’m going to do right now. Write anyway. What I am going to write may not be something particularly mind blowing or interesting. It may, as a matter of fact, just be the ramblings of a person desperate to get beyond the feeling that I need to write something mind blowing or interesting. Honestly, that’s exactly what it is. 

I spend a lot of time trying to be the best I can be at whatever it is I’m doing. I don’t compare myself to other people. I just go about any task or chore with the mindset that I’m going to do it amazingly…well, as amazingly as only I can. There are some things, admittedly, that I am not amazing at. I am not amazing at walking without tripping. I probably trip once a day. I’m kind of clumsy, what can I say? But that’s beside the point. Whenever I write I always think that it HAS TO BE GREAT. I have to write in such a way that whoever is reading whatever I wrote will automatically FALL IN LOVE with my writing and want to read more. Interestingly enough, this kind of thought process can be utterly paralyzing. I have struggled with this for weeks now. My desire to write something awesome has prevented me from writing at all because who out there in the world wants to write something that sucks balls? I certainly don’t, but here I am now, writing something that probably sucks big hairy balls in an effort just to write at all. I’m trying to get over that paralyzing fear. I’m writing whatever you’d like to call THIS in an effort leave the expectations I have of myself and my fear of how others might judge it behind me. I had a goal at the start of this blog to publish at least one time a week. But the only thing I’ve done exceptionally well since starting this blog is master the art of avoidance. That tends to be my way of dealing with things I find unpleasant in general. Putting away laundry, going to the dentist, going to the grocery store… these are things I find extremely unpleasant and annoying and so I generally put them off as long as I possibly can…writing is NOT something I find unpleasant. I love to write and I love the feeling I have when I’ve put my pen to paper (or my fingers to keyboard) and created. I love the art of creation and watching how words paint pictures in my mind, bring back memories of tastes and touch and smell and joy and sorrow and light and dark…it’s a beautiful, wonderful thing! I just hate feeling like I have to be an awesome writer to write. That is unpleasant. It’s also an unfair expectation to have of myself and I realize this. 

On a different, but similar, note, when I was trying to come up with a name for my blog and I was wracking my brain trying to think, think, THINK of something original that would encompass everything I wanted my blog to be, I had the thought of an illness I suffered last year. I still have no idea what was wrong with me but on the way home from work one night in October, I started having excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. I thought maybe I had appendicitis and so did my mother (yes, I called my mom) and so I drove myself to the hospital. It’s a good thing because by the time I got there I felt like I was going to pass the hell out from the pain. At any rate, after many initial tests the doctor still couldn’t pinpoint exactly what my problem was, so I was admitted and the ordered more tests and most terribly, a colonoscopy. You would think that the colonoscopy part of the procedure would be the worst. But no. If you think that you would be wrong. The worst part is the stuff they give you to drink to clean out your colon prior to the procedure. It’s god-awful, and without getting too graphic let’s just say it makes you go to the bathroom and go to the bathroom and go to the bathroom some MORE until when you do go to the bathroom nothing comes out but water. Oh, and did I mention it also makes you really, really nauseous? Good times. Anyway, the whole process was terrible BUT in the end I found out I was OK (just some tweaks to my diet to help my system out) and of course, that was a great thing. My point is that sometimes, in order to see that everything’s OK, you have to go through some things to get to that clarity. And my clarity for what my blog would be named…GOLIFELY…was born out of exactly that…GOING.

I’m glad that I sat here and tapped this out. It may not be great, or even good, but it’s a reminder of my beginnings. It’s also proof that simply GOING (or in this case, just writing) is absolutely the best cure for writers block. 

Stop being bossy: this and other things we say to little girls

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I was a boss as a kid. I admit it. Telling people what to do (especially my younger brothers and sister) and expressing my feelings – good or bad – was just part and parcel of my personality. I was always being told “stop being bossy” and stubborn and even at one point earned the nickname “Big Mama” from my mother, because I suppose in her view I was behaving like a bossy mama? I don’t know. Needless to say, eventually I learned to curb that “negative” “bossy” personality of mine. At least to the best of my 5-year-old ability. I was a girl, I was told, and girls aren’t supposed to be bossy.

As a mother now, with daughters, I can’t stand to hear anyone tell a little girl “stop being bossy.” It irritates me and perhaps it is in part because I was told that so often growing up. Or perhaps it’s because that is not something I have ever heard ANYONE tell a little boy. Boys can tell girls what to do. Boys can tell other boys what to do. Why? Why is it that a boy can be a BOSS, but a girl is “bossy.” Can we not understand the difference in meaning and the negative connotations that single word has? Do we not see (especially as women) how that word can stifle the being of a little girl…change her innately and force her to conform in a way that is not necessarily in her best interest? Being told not to be bossy certainly changed me. It made me feel bad about myself and ashamed for expressing my feelings to the people around me. It made me believe that there was something wrong with me. Telling me I was bossy did not change the way I communicated with others in a positive way (as I am sure, in some back-handed way, it was meant to). It stifled me. I quit communicating altogether.

This is why I so happy to find banbossy.com – a website formed through the partnership of Girl Scouts of America and LeanIn.org.  I understand as an adult how words like “bossy”, “stubborn”, “obstinate” and “difficult” can effect a little girl. I was a little girl who was labeled. These labels changed me. I think it’s time to move away from labels that diminish a girl’s opinions and feelings, and start moving toward language that empowers. I had the opportunity to do that live and in person recently, when I overheard a family member telling one of my daughters to stop being “bossy.” I intervened immediately by saying that being a boss and expressing your feelings isn’t a bad thing. Bosses become CEO’s, they lead organizations. Bosses build nations and change the world.

I don’t want my daughters to stifle their feelings. I don’t want them to grow up believing that it is wrong to express their opinions and beliefs. I want them to say what they feel without fear, to be exactly the blossoming individuals they are. I pledge to ban bossy. Do you?

Letter to my daughters about motherhood

~ Lisa ~ Leave a comment

I was scanning a Facebook post this morning. The topic from one of my favorite FB pages, “Mommy has a Potty Mouth” was highlighting some of the epic messes kids can make. Baby powder. Desitin. Poo. Inevitably, as with any post like this, someone makes the statement that kids could not POSSIBLY make messes like this unless they were not being WATCHED. Shame on you Mommy! Shame on you!

This got me to thinking about motherhood in general. First of all, nobody can tell you the RIGHT way to do it. The fact is, there is no “right way”. (This is of course and absolutely excluding abuse and neglect. That’s not what I’m talking about here because let’s face it, we all know there is a LINE.)

As I was saying, there is no “right way.” There is your way, and your way tends to coincide with the personalities and temperaments of your children. And you will dissect, criticize and obsess over “your way” from the time your baby is born. You will worry that you are doing it WRONG. You will have people constantly judging you and telling you that you are doing it WRONG. You will feel heartbroken as you search your past and every example you can come up with in your mind, looking for some HINT that you are doing it RIGHT and you won’t find one. Your kids will embarrass you in public and strangers will give you the “look.” Your kids will embarrass you in front of your mother/mother-in-law/great-aunt/friends and they will give you the “look” and maybe provide you with the most uninvited, condescending “advice” about child-rearing that will shame you in ways you never knew possible. You will cry on the days you know you were to harsh. You will feel guilty on the days you know you were too lenient. There will be days when you are utterly and completely exhausted and you will lay your child down for a nap and collapse on your couch because you feel safe in knowing your beloved little one is sleeping peacefully in her crib, and a short time later, go check on your little darling to find her, the crib, and every possible surface covered in shit because while you felt secure knowing your baby was safely asleep, she crapped her pants, removed her diaper, and decided to PLAY instead. You will sigh a huge sigh and get to work cleaning up the mess, all the while wondering where on earth you went wrong – just one of the hundreds of messes and hundreds of times you will question your own ability to mother. You will wonder if you’re loving your children enough. You will wonder if you are smothering them with love. You will work and feel guilty for every moment you are away from your children. You will be home and feel guilty because you’re thinking about work. You will read article after article from “experts” who tell you that this way or that way is the BEST way. The problem is, the “BEST” way depends wholly on the particular experts point of view and belief system. In other words, you’ll find a whole lot of opinions, but no consensus. Culture will tell you you’re doing it wrong. Commercials will tell you you’re doing it wrong. You will tell yourself “I’m doing it wrong.” And you will cry many, many tears of confusion while packing a lunch with organic applesauce, an organic grass-fed beef sandwich on organic whole-wheat bread with organic mayo and organic cheese, an organic juice box and organic pretzels because your child is complaining that she wants HOT LUNCH at school like her friends!

You will compare yourself to other mothers. Some will have the patience of a saint. You won’t, so you will shame yourself. Some will have children who behave like angels at the doctor’s office while your child spins around like a tornado, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake. You will get the “look” from the office receptionist, glance at the child quietly reading next to his mother, and shame yourself. Then you will glance over at the child with the snotty nose and dirty coat, and see his mother ignoring him as she reads the People she picked up from the magazine table, and shame her. You will realize something in that moment, and that something is that shaming other mothers makes you feel better…tragic, but true.

You will do your best, and realize that your best will never do thanks to the cacophony of voices around you affirming that belief. But every morning you will wake up and start another day as mom, and you will clean snotty noses and brush hair and help tie shoes and drop children off at school or activities, or make doctor’s appointments or speak with teachers, or argue (AGAIN) with the six-year-old about why she MUST wear boots because there is snow on the ground while she argues with you about how she hates wearing boots…and you will give all the love you can possibly give and try your hardest to meet the standards you set for yourself. Gold-medal standards, believe me you will have them. You will go through the day and judge yourself more harshly than a Russian Olympic ice skating judge judges the American sweetheart…deducting one-tenth of a point because you yelled after asking the 12-year-old to pick up his dirty socks off the family room floor for the 15th time that day, or a full point because you said “no, you may not have that candy bar” to your 3-year-old in the check out lane at the local Kroger and she went into a full on meltdown.

You will never meet your own gold medal standards and you will surely never meet the standards of others. But you will keep trying. God knows you will keep trying and praying and stumbling through. One day your kid might tell you you’re the best mommy in the whole world. Another day, you might hear “I wish I had a different mommy” as she stomps up to her room because you said she can’t do this or that or the other and she vehemently disagrees with you. When she cries, you will hold her and wish you could take the pain away…when she laughs, you will feel like all is right in the world. Tomorrow, you will do it all again. And the day after…and the day after…  And that, in a nutshell, is motherhood.