Goats, Goals, and Van Gogh . . . Peace OUT, 2014!!!!

Well. . . it's New Year's Eve.

So is this going to be a blog post about reflection and self-improvement? 

. . .honestly, I don't know WHERE I'm gonna go with this one, so I guess we'll just find out together.

It's been a . . . challenging year for me, personally.  Good times and bad, just like for everyone else.  I'd like to think I've learned some things.  I guess we'll see.  =)

So is this going to be a post about resolutions for the new year?

NOPE.

I don't make resolutions.

I used to, but they were almost always the same as everyone else's, the same mundane goals, and as soon as I hit a wall with one (usually around the second week of January) I would end up beating myself up over it for the next several weeks.  Or months. Just depends.

So I'm done with resolutions.  

I do, however, have some GOALS for this new year. . . but I'm keeping most of them to myself.

I also have a few Reminders for Myself, though, and those I would like to share with you.

They're pretty simple, but here they are:


Unplug.

On a regular basis.  

Unplug from the internet.  Unplug from the emails, and the phone, and the tv, and your own growing irritation, and all the NOISE.

Take time to be quiet.  To let your mind wander.  To remember a song that you'd forgotten about.

Hear the sound of your own voice singing.

Sit in the back yard.

Do nothing. . . 

But listen.

Don't Wait.

. . . Can I say that any louder??!?

DO.

IT.

NOW.

The one thing we can never get more of is time.

Your children will only be this age ONCE.  

SEE THEM.

YOU will only be this age ONCE.

SEE YOURSELF.

YOU WILL NEVER SEE THIS WEDNESDAY AGAIN.

!!!!

So go learn to play the piano.

Look at the people around you, and really SEE them.

If you aren't happy with your life  --  CHANGE IT!!!

Don't wait to be happy.

Don't wait to laugh.

Don't wait to feel loved.

DO.  IT.  NOW.

Read the story, write the book, play the song.

. . . Realize that you ARE the song.

Clock's ticking, people.


Create.

About 2 1/2 years ago, I had never painted anything, other than maybe a bedroom wall.  I had some troubles, got in a rough patch with myself, and accidentally rediscovered that I really LIKE to draw.  . . . I just never thought I had much of a talent for it.

But I enjoyed it, so I started drawing.  It was an exercise in meditation, and it allowed me to "put down" some of the anxieties that I was carrying.

And I started doing it almost every day.  Even when I wasn't in the mood.

And one day, even though I was terrified of even touching it, I picked up a paintbrush.  

I had convinced myself that I didn't know HOW to use a paintbrush, and so, for most of my life. . . I hadn't.

And I was completely petrified.  

Of screwing up.  Of really sucking at it.

But I swallowed that fear, and I did it anyway.

Because, by this point in my life, I had stopped trying to convince myself of all the things I COULDN'T do.  

At THIS point in my life, I was busy convincing myself of other things. . . like the belief that trying, failing, and trying again is STRENGTH.  And that fear, no matter how small, is my enemy.

So I was afraid to paint.  I was afraid that I would exert all that time and effort, then look at my finished work and be completely irritated that it hadn't turned out to be good enough.  I was afraid of feeling like a failure, even if only to myself.

It took a while, but the realization finally hit me:

IT.

DIDN'T. 

MATTER.



No, I wasn't great.  I was no Van Gogh, and I never would be. Primarily because there was never going to BE another Van Gogh.  

I realized that, while I might not be a mysterious and miraculous little snowflake, I WAS unique.  In that I was me.  And I was the only one of those there was ever going to be.  In all my muffin batter-spattered bathrobe, messy hair, and bags-under-my-eyes mommy glory, I realized that somehow, when I wasn't looking, I was slowly turning into the best (though still QUITE imperfect) possible version of ME.

Now it's been 2+ years, and I am almost at the point where I would feel comfortable calling myself an "artist."  

(Not a GREAT one, mind you, but still. . .)

And that's a huge step for me.

And a huge lesson.

YOU WILL NEVER GET TO YOUR DESTINATION IF YOU DO NOT START DOWN THE PATH.

One step at a time.  Take the first one.  Your feet know how to follow each other.

Create something that's never BEEN before.

Use your time wisely.

BE HONEST.

Be honest both with others, and with yourself.

. . .and I'M learning that learning to do this is an art form in and of itself.

But we all want to live a genuine life, right?

We all want to learn how to focus on what's REALLY important, and shut out all the noise and the distractions and the drama, right??!

I think this starts with honesty.

GENTLE honesty.

(You can be honest with someone WITHOUT tearing them a new rectum.  It can be done.  As I said:  "art form.")

Be gently honest with yourself first, and once you get good at that. . . I think it just naturally starts to spill over into the rest of your life.

No one wants to reach the end of their life and think:
"Oh God.  If only I hadn't wasted so much time caring what others thought of me.  If only I hadn't been afraid to TRY.  If ONLY I had said the things I needed to say, and made the changes I needed to make!"

I intend to avoid this at all costs.  And I think it starts with honesty.

Example:

Enough said.

=)

EVOLVE.

Live your life on purpose.

Be better than you were yesterday.

Forgive.

Then do it again.

Give second chances.

Grow.

Understand that the WORST points of your life, the points where you honestly thought that you could not keep on going. . . are molding you into a freaking warrior.

The points that broke your heart, the moments when you thought you'd never stop crying, and that you COULDN'T go on, because there WAS NO "on" . . . they are tenderizing you.  Making you more compassionate.  Focusing your sight, so that you see the pain of others.  

I'm not gonna lie. . . the hard parts HURT.

But they make you BETTER.

They make it worth it.


COME AS YOU ARE, & ACCEPT THE SAME FROM OTHERS.

Seriously.

I'm a work in progress, and I've made a lot of progress.  . . . And I've still got a LOT more work to do.

Sometimes I see old pictures of myself and I shudder to think who I was then, and how MUCH I had left to learn.  How much I STILL have left to learn.

For example:  I'm a turtle.

I proceed through life at a cautious pace, I never go anywhere without my shell, and I'm fairly deliberate about my words and my actions.

But we're not all turtles.

Some of us are mountain lions.  Some of us are meerkats.

Some of us are old (no matter what our age), and the lessons of life have been carved into us deeply, like a river carves into a mountain.

Some of us are young (no matter what our age), and are sprinting through the neighborhood like a dog that just realized the gate was left open.

And both of these are OKAY.

I'm a turtle.  And it took me a LOOOOONG time to realize that the world is not populated solely with turtles.

Some people have, through time and pain and patience, fostered a great capacity for love, forgiveness, and understanding.

Some others have not.  Not due to some inherent "badness" within them. . . but simply because they haven't made it that far yet.

And it's not my job to decide where anybody else should be.

We are all walking our own path, and I am beginning to fully understand exactly what the means.

It means that I can't expect anyone else to be exactly where I am. They can't expect me to be exactly where they are.

We just have to love each other anyway.

The day you learn to simply ACCEPT the people in your life, AS THEY ARE, is the day you become 835 steps closer to total freedom.

You, my friend, might be a goat.

You tear up my yard, and eat from the garbage can, but you are a FABULOUS FREAKING GOAT, and I will love you in all your goat-y glory.  

I will accept you as you are.  I will not expect more from you than you are capable of giving.  I will love to the greatest of my ability, not yours. 

And I will NOT try to turn you into a zebra.

You can come as you are.  And that's fine.

That's what we're all doing, anyway.

And I've made my peace with it.

=D

=======================================

**As this will most certainly be my final blog post for this year, I'd like to offer a final thought.

As is often the case with me, my "thoughts" generally come in the form of music.

So here it is:

We live in an amazing time, folks.

It is a beautiful, and tragic, and magically delicious place we have here.

And WE!!!  

WE LIVE IN A TIME WHERE OUR VOICES CAN LITERALLY BE HEARD AROUND THE WORLD!!!!

I choose to lift mine in song.

Peace and love.

To all of you, and all of yours.

LOVE.
Dani

So I Got My First Infinity Scarf, and You've All Been Doing It Wrong =D

Christmas day is over, and today has been a L-A-Z-Y day around our house.

But, while drinking my coffee this morning with a sleepiness so deep that it was close to cold desperation. . . I considered writing a few different blog posts.

There are things I've been meaning to write about, and just haven't gotten around to it yet.

. . . I've been BUSY, okay??

Anyway.

I could write about Christmas, or I could write my eulogy for the late Mr. Ash Ferley, or I've been thinking a lot about a piece on forgiveness, and growing your soul, and blah blah blah.

Frankly, yesterday was FANTASTIC (!!!) . . . but I am TIRED.

And I just wasn't up for anything that deep today.

. . . . . .

Then I remembered that I had some Christmas gifts in a bag that I had yet to put away.

And IN IT. . . were TWO Infinity scarves.

And so, in the spirit of the season. . . of the SEASON, PEOPLE!!!!  . . . I totally blew off everything else I was going to do today (aside from take a nap. . . I managed to fit that in), and had a mini photo shoot in front of my bathroom mirror, trying to figure out different ways to wear an Infinity scarf.

(I'm late to the party, I know.  It has been previously established in this blog that I do NOT have the faintest CLUE about fashion.)

However, from what I can tell. . . you've all been doing it very, VERY wrong.

Pose #1:  The Basic Draped-Shoulder.

I liked this one.  As a lady who appreciates having her shoulders covered, but is not a huge fan of long sleeves, I found this to be a winner.

Also, the low front loop makes a great pocket for holding snacks or whatever.

Pose #2:  The Head-Covered Chin-Bow

Not a favorite.

A little too Star Trek-y, but not in the good way.

Zero stars.

Pose #3:  The Snuggly-Neck

A bit basic, in my opinion, but I would wear it.

My neck was fabulously warm.  Once I got past the sensation that I was slowly being strangled.  By really soft hands.

Pose #4:  Definitely Trekked Out

. . . TOO Trek-y??

Yep.  

Maybe just a *smidge* too Trek-y.

Pose #5:  Yeah.  This feels *right*

Yep.  I feel like I probably should've dressed like this every day of my life so far.

Pose #6:  The Frickin Goddess

OH.

MY.

STARS.

I'd like to introduce you to how I'll be dressing from now on.

Hope you enjoyed this brief tutorial on how to properly wear your scarf.

=)

LOVES.

Sickness, Compassion, and a Change of Perspective

. . .you wanna talk about the Walking Dead?

Because I AM the walking dead today.

=/

Good gravy, that was a LOOOOONG night.

To put it briefly:  my son is sick.

I mean, sick-as-a-dog sick.

We woke up yesterday morning at the beach, ready to head home from our Thanksgiving getaway with The Pawpaw and Lon.  Nothing too remarkable, (aside from the completely remarkable act of being at the beach at Thanksgiving, which was a first for me) but a good time was had by all, and we were more than grateful for the chance to get away, clear our heads, and just relax for a few days.  By Sunday morning, though, we were wide awake, and ready to see the motley crew of pirates that we call "family" once again.

So we all piled back into the car, settled in for a few hours of driving, and began to slowly make our way back north.

It was a long ride.

Slightly longer than usual, because Took got sick on the way back.

He started feeling bad about 3 hours away from home.

Threw up in his car seat about 2 hours away from home.

Seemed to feel a little better after that, and by about lunchtime, we found ourselves parked in our own driveway once again, and really, REALLY happy to see several different boys spilling from our front door to welcome us back home.

It was nice.

(Aside from the fact that I was returning to a home where Ash Ferley, my dear friend and feline companion for the past 15 years, was no longer in residence.  I knew he was gone.  I knew he had lived a good, LONG, life for a cat, and I knew that HE had known he was loved.  But still. . . walking in and seeing only one cat food bowl in the kitchen. . .
But that is a different story for a different day.)

So we got all our stuff in, said our goodbyes to The Pawpaw and Lon, and saw the eldest Spawn off as well, as he had to get back to school and prior obligations, and had only stayed long enough to say hello to Took and I as we got home.

Took and Pad ran and played and fought and played and battled and played and generally just had a grand ole time together.  It was a good thing to see.

And about the time nightfall hit, after Pad had gone back home, of course Took's fever came right along with it.

By 6:30, he was barking like a dog and burning up.  I gave him some children's Tylenol, got him plenty of juice, and let him sack out in our bed and watch cartoons (surrounded by a virtual army of stuffed babies).

At 9:00, we took him up to bed.  Read a story, put assorted babies in their respective watch-posts on the bed, and, by the time I was halfway through the second lullaby, he was already out of it. Asleep, partially fever-delirious, and mumbling and moaning in his sleep.

Too late to call the doctor. . . so of course I called my mom.

She told me the things to watch out for, assured me that a fever is good sign, as it means his body is fighting off infection, and just generally made ME feel better.

At 10:30 he could have another dose of Tylenol, and that was when I instructed his Daddy to carry him downstairs and put him on a pallet in the floor in our room.  (Because his mom is getting older, and her back sucks.  And there was no way I could sleep on the floor in his room.  And I wasn't letting him just burn up with a fever all night long.  A pallet in our room was the obvious choice.)

Got the medicine in him (through some QUITE vocal protests), patted him down with a cool, wet rag.  Settled him into his pallet. And I crawled back onto the bed to wait.

15 minutes after Tylenol, I checked him.  He was starting to cool down.

Back onto the bed.

30 minutes after Tylenol, I checked him again.  He was almost a normal temperature again.  Thank everything that's holy.

I set my alarm for 3 a.m. (when he could have his next dose of medicine), and settled in to sleep for a few hours.

3 a.m. comes, and I turn off my alarm.  Lie there in bed for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to wake him up. . . and he suddenly sits BOLT upright, and starts throwing up.

Wow.  Timing this perfect is both a blessing, and a curse.

Cleaned him up, cleaned up his pallet, got more Tylenol in him (which I did NOT think he would keep down, but he did), patted him down with a cool, wet cloth again, and finally settled back in to sleep.

His next dose would be at 7 a.m. 

I knew I would NOT be needing an alarm in order to be awake for that one.

And so it goes, that at 7 we woke.  He was burning up again, but no more vomiting.  Got him moved comfortably to the couch, where he has been until this very moment, watching cartoons and being not-so-secretly thrilled at the prospect of having "all the juice you want, today."

And every time I walk over and press my hand on his back, or his forehead, to check him, he says:  "Mama, I fine.  I promise.  I fine, Mama."

So.

I think he's finally starting to MAYBE shake it.

Hopefully.

But today is most certainly going to be a day filled with ungodly amounts of juice, and crackers, and time spent piled up in bed (or on the couch) playing quietly and watching cartoons.

And, because I am me, and my mind is always always always over-thinking, and working overtime for absolutely NO extra pay. . . something occurs to me.

First off, yep.  I'm really tired today.  My back is killing me, and I got almost no sleep.  But I'll make it.  That's what coffee is FOR. And honestly, considering the long night we had. . . I could feel a LOT worse.

But what I'm thinking about. . . what has already brought a tear to my eye this morning. . . is THIS:

How many people do I know, people that I judge for one reason or another, people that maybe I look at as being "hard". . . that have NEVER had anyone take care of them this way?

???

Seriously.

As recently as Christmas last year, when I was just stupidly, stop-your-life-and-do-nothing-for-two-weeks sick with pneumonia, my own mother has had me take up residence in her house, spewing germs everywhere, while she took care of me 'round the clock.

I mean, Set-your-alarm-and-get-up-at-2-a.m.-to-give-me-medicine grade care-taking.

She has always done this.

Whenever I was very ill, any time I have ever been really sick, and couldn't take care of myself, she has done this.

And apparently. . . who knew?  It stuck.

==================

In light of recent events, both in my own personal life and in the media, I have found myself mentally griping about selfishness lately.

I have become angry about it.  (And honestly. . . I rarely get angry.  I get upset a lot.  I get sad.  I get my feelings hurt.  But I hardly ever get "angry."  But lately I have really felt myself get angry about people that I viewed as "selfish."  People that always put their own needs first, and never gave a second thought to anyone else's comfort.  
. . . They really pissed me off.)

As recently as yesterday, I was griping about it.

"I am totally DONE with selfish people," I said to my husband.

And I felt very justified in my anger, at threats and complaints both real and virtual.

And I should've known better.

I really should have.

But I felt JUSTIFIED, you see.  Because selfish people are SELFISH.  And it's OKAY to be angry at people like that.

I forgot rule #1, which is:

ANY time you feel like it's "okay" to feel hatefully toward, or have angry feelings toward, a certain group of people, any time you start to feel that that is JUSTIFIED. . . THAT is when you are coming dangerously close to being completely, totally lost.

Change your perspective, and quick, because you're in dangerous waters.

So I took my own, STELLAR advice, and I looked at the situation again.

Those people that I thought of as selfish, as being "hard", or cynical. . . what WERE they being, exactly?

Yes, some of them WERE selfish.  

. . . but WHY were they so selfish?

Could it be because of something so simple as they had never HAD anyone to take care of them?  Could it be that maybe they became selfish because they never had anyone in their corner, and they figured that if they were going to get taken care of, they were just going to have to do it themselves?

Shit.

. . . Nothing like a little change in your point of view to COMPLETELY screw up a perfectly justified "mad."

========================================

This, of course, took every BIT of wind out of my Angry Sails.

Pffffttttttt.  Gone.

And, once again, I find myself feeling very grateful for my mother. And for ALL the people that have sacrificed their own wishes, and their own comfort, to take care of ME over the years.

I think of all the people I know, that maybe never had anyone to care for them, to "tend" them when they were sick, and what lessons that would invariably impart.  And my heart aches for them.

And then I think of all the people I know, quietly going about their lives and taking care of everyone they know and love, in any and every way that they can.

And my heart swells again.

And so I'd just like to throw this out there:

To every mother/father/step-parent/auntie/cousin/friend that's ever set their alarm to an ungodly hour of morning, just to give that needed dose of medicine,

To every one of you that has the capacity, and the heart, and the willingness, to put yourself on the back-burner for a moment, and take care of those that really need it,

To every one that has ever made the choice to be caring, and decided that you could sleep later,

Your sleepless nights were not in vain.

By taking care of others, by momentarily putting yourself last, you have passed on to the next generation a level of compassion that is sorely needed in this world.

By caring for others, you've taught them.

THIS is how we take care of the people we love.

THIS is how we show that we care.

If compassion is a learned skill, that can be honed like any other, then it is people like this that pass it on to the next generation.

It is a skill that I will pass on to my son.  

I will make sure of it.

. . . 

. . . what better legacy could there possibly BE??

===================================


Today I am grateful for the people in my life who have shown me how to practice the art of compassion.

And I have decided to pass it on, and be that example for others.

I am grateful for the ability to change my point of view, and to see things from a different direction, even if it means I then have to change my thinking on a subject, or, God forbid, admit I was wrong.

I'm grateful that I was brought up to believe that admitting you were wrong, even if it is only to yourself, is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Grateful for a million things, and a day.

=)

"I know my call 
despite my faults and 
despite my growing fears."