DEAR ME,

I'm experimenting with a process that I have heard about for years, which I have tried before, but abandoned.

I'm writing letters to myself as a nurturing and affirming practice when I feel lost, neglected, depressed, anxious -- all those human feelings, stories, and emotions that we often eat, drink, drug, TV binge, sleep (choose your feel-better activity) away.

Almost four years ago I had a significant bout of depression and anxiety that landed me on the therapist's couch.  One of the things we worked on was my general predilection to minimize, deny, and abhor those parts of myself that need nurturing.  I push my 'childish' feelings down, but they remain hidden, hunkered down in a shadowed corner of my heart, while also almost simultaneously crying out, after sneaking around to take up residence in my oh so very busy and judgmental brain, berating me for my "neediness".

My therapist pointed out that there is no one on this earth who doesn't need nurturing on a daily basis.  That doesn't have to mean a constant supply of hugs and ice cream, but it does mean that the feelings we feel need to be expressed, then to be seen, heard, felt, known, and acknowledged, ideally by another. These are human desires of affirmation and connection.  We long to know we matter.

She taught me that radical self-acceptance is my 'go to' place when I start wishing something was different in my life.  I am just fine just as I am.  It's all good.  No one else can define for me who I should be.  Love myself for who I am in this moment.  I don't like some part of that "me"?  Gain insight, get help; change what I can or what I want to.  Accept that not everything I am meshes well with others and that's OK too.  Work on making that work; or not.

Often there is no way to change or get what I want from my life or from other people in this moment, so I must accept that I want something different than what is available to me.  And then trust myself to take needed action.  (A new president, as a trivial example, was one of the things that came up, jokingly, in counseling in the Spring of 2016.  I lamented, "But what if he wins?!?" And she smiled and said, "Accept what is real." Ugh!)

So after accepting myself as I am and acknowledging the realness of my situation, I was encouraged to find self-compassion.  Instead of diving into self-loathing depression or looking to others to "fix" my predicament, I must take care of my own tender heart.  So often we easily find compassion for others while being super hard-ass with ourselves.  We are the only ones who can love ourselves fully, but it takes practice.

So, lately I've had to think about the "realness" of a few situations in my life; I've had to accept that I am a person who wishes some things were different (others might find no fault with these situations -- we are all different), and that there is nothing wrong with the unique me for needing this.  Then I need to find compassion for my hurt places and take action to care for them.

That's where the letters come in.  I've been writing to myself, offering understanding, acknowledgement, compassion, words of affirmation.  I am taking care of myself.  It feels a wee bit lonely, as I long for others to give me the acknowledgement and understanding I need, but also very empowering to stop waiting for the impossible and just take care of myself.

I observe the existential aloneness that comes over me at times, a gut punch of recognition that we are singular beings in this realm who connect with others for only a moment before our unknown journey commences to whatever awaits us.  Who better to step up to nurture, care for, tend, and love our own sweet souls than ourselves?  We are, truly, the only ones who truly can.

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

Photo Credit:  www.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...©

NOTHING MUCH TO SAY

Oh, look!  She's back!  But does she have anything to say?

Whew...a bit of a creative dry spell in the blog'o sphere for me lately.  I was finally prompted by an out of town friend who thought she was missing my posts since Golf Porn.  Alas, there have been none.

Sometimes I am brimming with ideas that force themselves almost beyond my control to the page.  Other times, well, nothing seems worth writing about.  It makes me admire those who have to churn out opinion columns on a regular basis even when they don't have the "juice" to even have an opinion.  I guess that's why some columns are stellar and some just so-so.

Well, here are a few things that have caught my attention while I wasn't writing blog posts:

1. Interesting how commerce and art intersect and motivate.  I did prioritize my "paying gig"-- the Circling the Mat blog. http://circlingthemat.blogspot.com.  So money does matter -- as does the fact that a "boss" has an expectation of me to produce.  And I'm reminded that I have always been more externally than internally motivated.  I keep thinking that is no longer true, but I'm lying to myself when I say that.  Obviously.

2.  I did a public poetry reading with my poetry group last week.  We published a chapbook last year and were invited to be featured poets for February at a local cultural center.  There are six of us in the group (called The Five Women Poets -- because that was the original number and we just stick with it even when others come and go, increasing or decreasing our actual number).  We hadn't read publicly for several months.  It was fun.  We also sold a few books, so that's nice.  But I felt a bit like how Mick Jagger must feel when he has to sing "Satisfaction" one more time.  I'm pretty sick of my poems and realize that my essays for the blogs are in the driver's seat and my poetry has been sitting in the back, napping.  I'm taking a class on Billy Collins' poetry next month.  That should shake the poet in me awake.  He's my favorite.

3.  My local-est go-to Starbucks is closing.  Around here you can hardly go a couple of blocks without passing another one, but this one was most convenient for me and my route took me by it frequently.  Easy in and out, right in my shopping area, on the way home from Yoga (when my Outback, as if with a mind of its own, turns into the parking lot 9 times out of 10).  Other stores will do, but have their drawbacks -- lousy parking, crowded, long drive-thru lines.   It's unclear to me how they could determine there wasn't enough business at this one -- I had assumed my visits alone were keeping it in the black.  Alas, not.  (And don't tell me to use that espresso machine that sat on my countertop gathering dust for 5 years and now takes up space in the under-counter cabinet no one uses.  Just not the same.)

4.  And as if that news wasn't upsetting enough, later the same day I found out about the closure, the announcement came that Jon Stewart is leaving the Daily Show.  This news shook me to my pop-culture core.  I adore him.  Handsome, intelligent, articulate, incisive, ironic, goofy, smart, hilarious.  I counted on my nightly "date" with Jon Stewart to give me a lift from the doldrums of despair because if he could make fun of the absurdity of our current state of politics, media, and just general human craziness then all was not lost.  With Colbert gone already and Stewart on his way out, I feel lost and lonely, as if friends who remind me it's all going to be OK, if we can still laugh, have moved away.  I hope they'll stay in touch.

5.  I'm curious if my writer's block for the blog has to do with all the other, more technical, writing I'm doing lately.  Hub and I are on the Steering Committee for our church's annual Stewardship Drive.  In fact, he's the chairperson and with his organizational skill he is the man for the job if anyone is.  He's gathered a very creative and energetic group to assist him and it's a big, multi-part project.  I'm not only his "ghost writer" for most things he needs written, but with this project a friend and I are writing all the announcements for various publications, designing a mailer, an e-brochure, testimonials, and factual information hand-outs.   My head is sort of swimming with marketing strategies, details, facts, figures, and design elements.  It might be draining my creative energy for other things a bit.  But boy is it fun to work on a big project with bright, capable, and creative people and have it be time-senstive and time-limited.  My part will be over by mid-April....

6.  At which time I'll be deeply into and much distracted by getting to know our new granddaughter, who is due to make her appearance early in March -- 3 weeks until due date!  Woo-Hoo!

7.  Oh! NOW I think I feel a blog post bubbling up....I might have a thing or two to say about being a grandma.

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

EXCITED. ALSO SICK & TIRED.

First of all….when you put something out to the Universe in a strong and declarative way, it will often come back to you (for good or ill).  In my last post I declared: "I am a writer!"  And guess what?  Within a few days, someone offered to PAY me to write for them.  It will be a new blog about yoga.  Excited!

Other than that, it's been a tough month and I am in a contemplative state of mind.  I always worry a bit that this blog is too close to a personal journal, then I have people tell me how much they can relate to my experiences and it only encourages me to continue in this navel-gazing vein, thinking we really are all in this life together and there may be only a few discreet human experiences, but hundreds of ways to interpret and live them.  So here goes...

I'm back to feeling a vague sense of queasiness a lot of the time.  I feel like it's the first day of a bout with the flu.  Tired, sort of tummy sick, a little head-achy, just want to moan and sit still.  Then it passes and I'm fine….until out of the blue it hits me again.  I spent a year like this not long ago and underwent every test in the book with no diagnosis (but I did lose 25 pounds!).  I don't really want to do this again.  I'm managing, but I'm frustrated and a little scared.  And my level of compassion for people who have real, debilitating, chronic ailments is at an all-time high.  I cannot imagine….

I'm trying to clean up my diet again; I'd gotten lazy and gave in too often to my sweet tooth.  I gained a few pounds and the carb cravings were back.  So maybe that's it.  I don't know; I really don't.  I just feel like whining about it, but that does no one any good and puts out to the Universe exactly what I don't want!  They say, when you are asking for what you want, to be clear and positive; don't say what you don't want:  "I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick; I don't want to be sick"…is heard as sick sick sick!  Say instead, "I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy"…and health and strength abound!  Worth a try.

Also, I'm in burn-out mode and all of the above may also be the physical manifestation of the mental and emotional toll of my usual habit of over-committing, over-extending, over-scheduling, over-worrying, over-working, overly-perfectionistic tendencies.  Sheesh!  I just can't seem to learn this lesson!  How many times have I been here??? (A lot, I tell ya!)   So, the Ugly Critic Monster has shown up to berate me for being a slacker and unable to keep up the pace, unable to let criticism and conflict roll off my back, unable to just forge ahead like "normal" accomplished and highly functioning people can.   I've taken to the sofa with my TV remote and crocheting.  I have stopped committing to things and am telling everyone I'm on a summer hiatus beginning June 1st.  I am only going to do EXACTLY what I want to do and that will not include any meetings, few social engagements, no obligations.  So there!

When I'm in these sick and tired states I tend to get sad and think about all my regrets and mistakes.  It's a nice wallow, but I get sick and tired of that soon enough as well.  Then I decide to fix me.  Again.

My latest "fix me" fix is re-reading Grain Brain (by David Perlmutter, MD) to get me eating right again (cut the carbs!!!)  And I've just started reading Buddha's Brain (by Rick Hanson, Ph.D.) to get me thinking right.  (It is not lost on me that all this emphasis on "brains" is the opposite of living from the heart -- a goal of mine -- but I'll deconstruct that inconsistency another time.)   Buddha's Brain, at least the first 70 pages, is an enlightening discussion of the evolution of brain development and the biochemistry of feeling states and how we actually reinforce, chemically and neurologically, that which we think and feel.  And, the great part is we can train and re-program ourselves to think and feel better!  We can pursue practices which literally change our brain's response to pain and suffering, anxiety and depression.   So, that seems like a good goal while I'm on hiatus from  eating every sugary treat within 10 miles and being overwhelmed with tasks and depressed about people not appreciating my efforts.  (Poor, poor pitiful me.)

Please (please!) tell me you can relate to this rambling.  Or if not….

I'll be back soon with the always uplifting and simply hilarious tales of another gardening season at IvyWood, which is the name I secretly gave our property many years ago.  It reflects the wooded greenbelt that runs adjacent to where we live and also the absolutely ill-advised decision to plant ivy ground cover over the slope behind our house.  It is generally ill-advised for me to even go outside, actually.  But I'm giving gardening another shot this year; maybe I should write a book about my experiences:  Green Brain.

At least that's the view from here… ©

EXPRESS YOURSELF

When I was a kid I made up stories in my head about adventures.  I was always the star -- I was the leader, fearless and cunning; my side-kicks in this were two boys and together we led a pack of cool kids who operated on the edge -- sort of "bad", but in service to the "good".  Robin Hood types, I guess.  I never wrote any of these stories down.  But I played them out in my head, fantasies that moved across my mind like a movie reel, while I was drying the dishes or sweeping the sidewalk or sitting in class.  

This morning I am thinking about creativity, its source and its expression.  I just read a Facebook post by one of my writing heroes, Anne Lamott, where she admonishes us to not waste one more minute being timid and shy, procrastinating and denying the urge to create.

I started writing about 40 years ago.  I have boxes and boxes of journals, essays, poems, musings; a notebook full of newsletters I've written and edited for organizations over the years;  a file folder of published pieces of which I am quite proud.  I started writing and performing "stand-up" poetry 7 years ago; writing essays for UU Sunday services around that time as well.  I started this blog in 2012 and have written 122 essay posts for it.  I have four poems in a recently self-published chapbook by my women's poetry group.  Seventy people came to the book launch last month.  I just found out I will have four pieces (two poems and two essays) in a Northwest Women Writers anthology next year.  I've written song lyrics that are being performed and recorded by my musician friends.

So, why is it that when people ask, "What do you do?" my answer is "I'm a retired Social Worker." Why is it I can NEVER say, "I'm a writer."  Why is it safer to be a retired something or other (I had socially-recognized value once!) rather than to declare that the thing I most love is what I do?  (Even when a huge part of that career was writing -- home studies, grants, newsletters and other communications of all types.)

I think it's the timid and shy self-depracating tendency to not believe in one's creative urge that Anne Lamott talks about.  I think it's the rejection letters from magazines and Random House's reluctance to seek out my talent and make me rich and famous.  I think it's the little girl who still lives within me, who was quiet and anxious a lot of the time, who was taught not to call attention to herself, the one who always played it safe and never took risks, who played out being powerful (even the leader of boys!) within her rich fantasy life -- the fantasy that felt so impossible within the real world that it became a movie of the mind.

But what would happen if we all lived our passion out loud?  What if we identified by our creative center rather than the practical worldly way we support ourselves.  (Sometimes, if we are lucky, they are the same thing, but often not.)   What if we asked "what do you love?; who are you?" instead of "what do you do?"  The checker at Safeway might answer: "I am a dancer."  Or the teacher may say, "I am a potter."  Or the longshoreman could respond, "I'm an opera singer."  Or the computer programmer declare, "I'm a farmer."  Wouldn't that be a wonderful way to know each other?

And maybe that would free us to claim our own power, not relegating it to live within a fantasy life, but rather embracing it in the real world.  Who doesn't feel more powerful when actively living the "real me" rather that the one we try to fit into a mold of who we are "supposed" to be?  Maybe I would have been a classroom leader, a force for good, rather than the little girl in the middle of the pack, hoping for cool friends and accolades by association.

We all have a creative urge, a rich inner life that is moving through us, rising and falling, looking for expression.  What if our very purpose for being alive in this world was to allow this spark to ignite; to practice, fail, keep going; to know each other's deepest longing for expression and to support that quest joyfully and with celebration.  What do you love?  Who are you?

I'll start:  I'm a writer.

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

WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT?

Obviously I have a little writer's block.  My son's beautiful wedding and all the prep and hoopla around that last month occupied almost all my time and energy.  Writing, and everything else, took a back seat.

I wonder if that would have been the case if this blog was "about" something?  I took a writing seminar last spring and my instructor took a look at this blog.  She was complementary about the writing, but questioned my purpose.  "What's your blog about?"  She said if I just wanted it to be something for family and friends, it was fine as far as it goes.  But if I wanted a wider audience it should be "about" something.  Like crafts, or cooking, or gardening, or politics or...something!  I felt a little discouraged.  I thought it was about something.

I thought it was a way to connect, to relate, to express what others might also be experiencing or point out what others may have missed or not appreciated about their own lives.  That's what I love -- the connection of, "Wow, me too!" when I write something that others find familiar.  I thought it might be about a woman in her 60's looking back, looking forward, reflecting and anticipating, at a time in life when a little perspective on history can inform a better future.

I don't know...

I guess this exercise really is just about me reflecting on my life. Yet, maybe that's not enough.  Maybe that puts it in the too-close-for-comfort "journal" genre.  Who else really cares about the thoughts in my head or the people and events that I come across everyday that make me pause and reflect?

So, I've tried to come up with a specific topic to write about regularly, but the thought of that makes me claustrophobic.  I don't think there is anything I want to devote my writing to that I can sustain for more than a few posts.  So, what this blog is, and will continue to be, is just a bunch of essays on whatever I feel like writing about.

If you're still with me on this, I'm still here, for now -- puzzling out my life and hoping a few of you are along for the ride.  We're in this human thing together, ya know.

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

DEAR DIARY

I'm usually a little smug about my technological successes.  I'm an Apple devotee and say what you will, those machines work well.  I rarely have an issue with my desktop, my laptop, my I-Pad or I-Phone.  No freezing.  Rare spamming.  No viruses or crashes or worms or any of those other bad things.

I take no credit for this.  I have no idea of the inner workings of Apple products that seem to ward off such disasters.  I just notice these things don't happen to me (much) and I credit the Apple geniuses, since previous computer brands I owned were always creating havoc for me.

But left to my own ignorant devices, I can screw up big-time.  I recently had a thumb drive go "bad" on me -- as in I plugged it into my laptop one day and it was fine, the next day it was dead.  No computer in my home even recognizes it, let alone opens it.  I've lost about 2 years of personal journal entries, a few poems, some other this's and that's -- I don't really recall everything that is on there.   Since that debacle I've been told  that thumb drives are notoriously prone to failure and to NEVER consider them a safe back-up.  Well, I didn't even use it as a back-up.  I used it as a primary storage unit for certain items.  Oh dear.

I'm pretty heartsick, mostly about the journal entries.  I read something once by another journal writer who said, "If I don't record my life by writing it out, it's as if it didn't happen."  I agree.  My journals are full of facts, reflections, brilliant breakthroughs, rants, cathartic moaning, groaning and screaming, sadness, joy, vacation notes, and dither.  I go back and re-read entries to remind myself of events, times, transitions, and thoughts I had then to see if I've made any progress on my personal growth quest or my "to do" lists, or just to steal particularly well written ideas and sentences for other writing I'm doing.

This has been a humbling experience and one that has caused me some grief and regret.  I really miss those two year's worth of entries.  Some important things happened and I want to remember exactly what my state of mind and emotion was then.  My memory is as notoriously unreliable as a thumb drive.

On the other hand, this is perhaps good practice in letting go.   What choice do I have?  Those years are in the past; I'm still here.  I grew and changed, things happened and I responded to them in ways brilliant and ridiculous.   I often say that should anyone read my journals at some future time, they might conclude I was the most depressed, angry, resentful, screwed up woman alive.  I have used journal writing to work through some very negative and dark emotional states.  But there is pride, contentment and unbridled joy there too.

Maybe I'll go back to journaling regularly and maybe I won't; either way, my life will continue to play out on the stage of everyday existence, and maybe that is enough.

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

2 + 2 = FREE VERSE

It's National Poetry Month.

I thought about this last evening as I sat in a dinner presentation about investments with our financial advising group.  I should probably have been thinking about "return on investment", "percentage growth", "caps", "REITs", "leveraging ratios", "weighted average capitalization rates"....whatever.  I married a man who speaks "math".  I don't.

The Illinois Public School System lost me at long division in 4th grade and never bothered to make me learn much beyond that.  I believe, these days, I'd be diagnosed with a significant learning disability in math skills, but back then putting me in "general math" classes for the rest of my school life basically allowed me to meet the requirements for graduation with no fuss or muss on my part -- or the school's.

Anyway, I trust my husband and our advisors to keep us solvent into a ripe (riper?) old age (which really goes against my feminist grain, but I'm lazy about this and basically trusting....bad combo, I know).  And this disregard for taking responsibility for my financial well-being frees up significant day-dreaming time at these head-spinningly-confusing-money-talk meetings.

As luck would have it, our table-mates at last night's gig included a woman about my age (they are ALL "about my age" at these things..) who is also a poet!!! This has certainly never happened to me before, and I would guess was a rare occurrence for her as well.  We were sitting too far apart to whisper to each other throughout the presentation (ahhh....just like Sue and me in 7th grade!), but we were able to exchange a few words about our respective writing groups, fun writing exercises, what other poets we like, etc., etc.  It was a brief, but delightful, exchange -- all the more so for being so totally unexpected.

So, next time "Hub" insists we go to one of these events, I will be much more open to it.  The sneaky muse of the poet is always lurking...even when math is involved.

At least, that's the view from here....©
*************
My new poet friend from last night told me about this terrific TED Talk with one of my favorite poets, Billy Collins, in which he featured 5 of his poems accompanied by animated shorts.  It is a delight!

http://www.ted.com/talks/billy_collins_everyday_moments_caught_in_time.html

REVEAL OR CONCEAL?

So....it's been over a month since I posted my first entry in this blog.  Truth is, I sort of chickened out.   I checked around with some of the Sues and Jims and most were enthusiastic about me doing this and some were cautious, with concerns about issues of confidentiality in this time of identity thefts, copyright infringements, crazy stalkers...I don't know.  I've decided to go ahead, embracing the encouragement and considering the cautions.

I think it might be generational.  My younger Facebook friends don't seem to have these qualms.  They post where they are every minute of the day, who they are with, who their family members are, where they work or go to school, their ever-changing relationship status, poems and songs they have written,  videos and photos of themselves in various states of drunkenness....either they are extremely naive or my age-mates are very paranoid.

I have conflicting tendencies.  On one hand I have always said I live my life out loud.  I tend to reveal a lot about myself.  I want to connect with others and I see no way of doing this in a meaningful way without being revealing of my own joys and challenges, foibles, and follies.  On the other hand, my inherent introversion and "the bad guys'll get ya!" fears keep me struggling to find a balance between revealing and concealing.  So, I suppose I'll be doing that dance here too.  (Hence, the whole name thing).

So, about Facebook.  I joined in 2009, reluctantly, but curious.  It was at the urging of my niece in Arizona as a fun way to keep in touch.  I am now officially sort of addicted.  (Love that "sort of" qualifier!  Can one be "sort of" an addict?  I think, really, you are or you aren't... I are).  I sign in many, many times throughout the day to see who's posted, who's commented, who's doing what...I have fallen prey to classical operant conditioning...the intermittent reward of a possible update keeps me coming back for more!  I'm one of those chickens pecking at the lever to release a food pellet down the 'ol gullet!  I've lately tried to decide if this addiction is dangerous, and in true addict-think I've decided it's not.  It's enjoyable, not hurting anyone, I still live a full and productive life in the real world, and I can (sort of) tolerate not having internet access on occasion (hmmm...sort of?).   I've re-connected with some old friends, become closer to acquaintances, and found the answer to the introvert's dilemma of wanting/needing social contact without having to carry on long awkward conversations in public places, then coming away exhausted.  What could possibly go wrong????

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

GETTING STARTED...

....indeed!  I do feel as if I am just getting started.  I am afflicted with the gradual awakening to the fact that I really don't know much about the really big stuff.  Like how to be at peace, how to live mindfully,  how to bake a pie.  There are just things I seem to have missed on this life journey and now I see that path before me disappearing into the mists and I'm not sure how much time there is to achieve clarity.  This, the terrifying human condition of contemplating our own death, motivates me to stop screwing around and get to it.  Whatever "it" is.  This is not new, not unique, really sort of a cliche I suppose.  Yet.  Here I am.

So, off we go.  Please read along and hopefully you'll find something of interest, something to laugh about, and maybe shed a tear.  We'll explore the misty path forward together, which will make it that much more enjoyable.

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