DON'T SHOOT!

Friday night Hub and I went to the first play of the season at the theater company here in town.  We love that we don't have to commute to Seattle to experience excellent professional musical theater.  The show was "Into the Woods".  I was disappointed not to love it, but regardless of the plot and book; I have to praise the actors and stage/lighting designers.  Top notch every time.  We didn't leave the theater until nearly 11:00 -- pretty late for us these days.

Driving home, we noticed our street was filled with cars and a few people walking around.  "Party", we both said, and just kept going.

I was tired, so I went to bed shortly after getting home.  Hub decided to stay up a bit longer.  I had fallen asleep but not deeply so, and at one point I heard Hub talking.  It was disorienting.  Who in the world was he talking to on the phone after midnight?!?  I called down to him from upstairs asking if he was OK.  "Yes, just called 911. I think I heard gunshots!"

What?!?!  That woke me up fast!  Immediately I heard sirens.  Hub came upstairs to our bedroom where we have a good view of the street and we both watched as police, ambulance, and some sort of armored truck (SWAT team, we thought) converged on the corner 1-1/2 blocks from our home.  Hub said he'd seen people running down the street and cars peeling away shortly after the gunshots.  Now we saw people milling about as the police cordoned off the street 1/2 block from us.  Shortly, two officers raced by our home on foot being led by a police dog on the scent.  It was all quite surreal and we had no idea what was going on.

The neighborhood email list serve immediately lit up and I followed the comments of other neighbors who had heard the shots and called 911 also.  They said a partygoer had shot another and the shooter was still on the loose.  Nervous Nelly that I am, this was not welcome news.  We continued to watch for awhile, but really couldn't see all that well.  Hub got tired and came to bed, soon falling asleep.  But I was awake until after 2:00 a.m. watching the red lights flash on the walls of our bedroom until eventually I dozed off and awoke around 3:00 to a quiet street, all evidence of the police and the incident gone.

In the meantime details have emerged that the party was at an historic house originally belonging to a lumber baron back in the day, but has had several owners since we've lived here.  Currently it is owned by a development company seeking to subdivide the property and build more homes there -- not something we are happy about since it will destroy the historic nature of the property and the stately mansion will be surrounded by modern homes, but such is progress I guess.  In the meantime, it is being rented to some college students in their mid-late 20's.  The mother of one of them lives here in the neighborhood too and vouches for them.  Her son has written an account of the incident to the neighbors on the list serve.  He says it was a gathering of friends and co-workers that was going fine until an uninvited group showed up and started to cause a disturbance.  He told them to leave, which they did, but once in the street, shots were fired.  He said none of his original guests were involved, only the group that showed up and were unknown to him.  A 15 year old boy is in serious condition at a Seattle trauma center hospital.  The shooter is still to be identified and taken into custody.

It's all very unsettling, but plausible.  Parties have a way of getting out of hand, I know, when people spread the word and strangers show up.  I'm sure my sons were at plenty of college parties where not everyone was known to the host.  As to those who showed up and ended up shooting one of their own group....what's up with that?

What's up with any of it really?  I am sickened by how common gun violence is.  I could go on and on about my abhorance of guns and the prevalence of guns and our lax gun laws...yes, on and on.  It's a national tragedy.  Maybe I'll devote another post to this topic, but for now, I am stunned that this happened so close to home....and at the same time I have no illusions that any of us are safe from gun violence no matter the relatively affluent, historic nature of our neighborhoods.

We try here to be good neighbors. We keep our houses painted, our lawns mowed, watch out for each other, helping when we can, staying in touch on the list serve...AND lots of folks have alarm systems and security cameras.

I woke up scanning the thickly treed greenbelt behind our home, wondering if the shooter may have taken temporary refuge there.  Into the Woods, indeed.  Troubling times.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  Pixabay.com

CROSSROADS

Last weekend Hub and I joined the other 10 friends in a group we affectionately call "The Tribe" at our second annual weekend retreat.  We've been meeting together monthly since February 2016 for socializing, a potluck, and intentional sharing time in Circle, where we sometimes have a topic to explore that allows us to be self-reflective, and sometimes just a time of sharing deeply with each other about what's going on in our lives.  It goes beyond small talk by creating a safe and trusting space to be vulnerable.  Hub and I generally facilitate this since we have done this type of "personal growth" work in our own lives and have some experience facilitating these discussions.  But we also participate fully and gain as much from the time together as anyone.  It's a gift of love that gives back.

We planned a retreat for last year and we all loved it so much, we decided to do it again.  This time we rented a huge and beautiful home in the mountains on the edge of a little town that is very touristy with a Bavarian theme, but is surrounded by natural beauty.  The home sat on the edge of a river lined with trees in full fall regalia.  It looks like a fake photo; it's not.  We were in awe all weekend as all the windows of the communal rooms faced this view.

Our theme this year was "Crossroads" as we explored what our gift might be that we desire to bring forth into the world, but for whatever reason have held ourselves back from realizing.

We identified the "gift" and we studied and had fun with a personality construct called "The Enneagram" which is similar to Myers-Briggs in identifying certain characteristics of personality types.  Then we did a process which Hub masterfully facilitated for 11 people (and me for him), over the course of 5 hours.  To hold space and energy for emotional work that long is exhausting...he was a rock star!  But aside from my pride and awe of his facilitation skill, was the deep appreciation I had for each person stepping into their lives deeply and with great reverence.  As each walked the timeline of their lives, identifying 2-3 significant events, Hub was able to guide them in seeing how their life experiences and their personality types had both shaped their gift and also perhaps held them back from sharing this gift widely.

As each reached the "crossroads" they could take a step forward, recognizing they are already on the path and just need to take the first step into making their gift to world manifest.  Or they could veer left or right, realizing the path they were on needed to detour into a path more suited to their desire.  Every person stepped forward.  All realized they are already living their gift in some ways; they just needed clarity about the next step.

At the end each was given a slip of paper where I'd written the sentence describing their gift and the next step they will take within the next 30 days.  A duplicate of this was drawn anonymously by another Tribe member to hold that person "in the light" until we meet again and reveal who had been their Champion for the month.

Creating this experience was work, fun, interesting, and enlightening for Hub and me.  It was based on something Hub has done with his men's groups over the years, but was new to me.  I added the identifying the gift part (through a guided visualization) and the Enneagram stuff and we are delighted at the result.  Everyone seemed to gain from the experience.

This work of the heart and soul has always been important to me, and more so as I grow older.  Too often we assume we've done everything there is to do; "can't teach an old dog new tricks"; "it's too late to change direction" or to follow that heart-dream we've always had.  This limiting belief system is so detrimental to our psyche!  In growing older there is still room for growing.  

As for me?  My Gift Statement is "I find creative ways to connect and communicate with others to inspire and empower them to live confidently and boldly."  It's always a bit grandiose to state a gift or life mission in such confident terms, but looking at my adult life, I see this is actually exactly what I love to do.  I've done it in so many ways, successfully and less so, and it continues to be my passion.  I think it is especially dear to me because it's a gift I also give to myself.  I too want to empower and inspire ME by being in community with others who value this work as well.

Right now, I'm hoping that I can empower and inspire through my writing.  So my "first baby step" is to commit to sitting down at my computer two days a week with the sole intention of writing...no FB scrolling, no email answering, no newsfeed reading -- just working on a writing project.  My blogs will always be priority and I'm looking at other avenues for writing for connection as well.

What is your gift to the world?  What holds you back?  Are you on the right path or are you at a Crossroads?  Now is the time to take the first step...

At least, that's the view from here...©

SUNDAY, SUNDAY...SO GOOD TO ME...

I used to love Fridays the best, especially during my years in the paid workforce, especially when I was younger and TGIF held more promise than a night of binge-watching Netflix in my Jammie-clothes.  Fridays always felt like a party and often ended in one.  Friends gathering, Happy Hour, Date Night...all that stuff felt spontaneous and fun and vibrant and carefree.  Friday had just turned 21!

Then kids came along and my TGIF meant I was no longer single parenting, when Hub was generally home with us and not at work or other evening obligations, and I had some help with the boys who had run me ragged all week.  It was pizza night or movie night or family swim night with friends and their kids.  I was still "working" but not alone on the job.   Friday flirted with being a Partier, but was much more tired and a little more tattered.

Later, Friday was a respite from a calendar chockfull of evening obligations to attend groups and meetings.  We were involved in so many things in the community, our church, personal growth events that nearly every night of the workweek was scheduled.  On Friday we took a breath.  Sometimes.  Friday was middle-aged and trying to just keep time until Monday when it would all start again.

After retirement, Friday still has a burnished glow, a reminiscence of old times with the feel of a holiday, but it's not the beacon of light and relief it once was.  It's not all that different from the other nights.  We bid out granddaughter goodbye and clean up the house of all evidence of a two year old having taking over on Thursday and Friday on our Papa-Care and Granny-Nanny days.  We high-five each other for having made it through another week; we cook dinner, we watch Rachel Maddow, we watch some TV show or movie we've recorded earlier in the week, we go to bed at 10:00.  Friday is growing older; getting quieter, but still up for a laugh or two, if not a full guffaw.  Definitely not a party; more like a deep sigh.  I like Fridays, but...

Now, my favorite day is Sunday.  There are no expectations of Sunday.  Sunday dawns with no plan and no commitment.  Sunday is a blank slate.  Sunday is there to make and mold and become whatever I decide it will be.   Since I left my church two years ago, I don't even have to get up and make myself presentable for public view, don't have to be somewhere at a certain time, nor stay late for a social gathering or committee meeting.  Sundays used to be "half-days" since by the time we got home it was 1:00 or after.  Now I get a full, long, luxurious day to .... do nothing much at all.

So, I don't have much to show for my Sundays -- by design.  I give myself permission to be flat-out lazy.  In the fall, like now, I throw on my Seahawks hoodie with a pair of yoga pants, grab a cup of coffee, read the paper, scroll through Facebook, meditate.  Then I might make some pancakes - a Sunday treat - and chat with Hub over late breakfast.  By early afternoon we get snacks ready and watch the Seahawks game together.  Then I might read, crochet, decide when to watch our Sunday night programs -- choosing among our current Sunday night line-up of Outlander,  John Oliver, Parts Unknown, and returning next week, Good Behavior.  We don't watch them all, of course...we save some for mid-week.  But the point is, Sunday is a day of slovenly rest for me (but a workout for my DVR).   Sunday is chill.  Sunday is contentment.  Sunday is me being in the flow of "being" with no agenda.  I guard my Sundays with a pit bull's intensity.  My calendar rarely has anything scheduled and if so, it's with some reluctance and regret at times.

I remember the excitement of Friday -- like the wind in my hair on the back of a motorcycle.  But for now, give me a Sunday -- a mug of coffee, a warm blanket, and my remote control.

At least, that's the view from here...©