Meandering Mind

1.  You can’t see your own ears.  Unless you look in a mirror.

I heard someone say that 3 days ago and it’s still stuck in my mind, a random, useless, captivating piece of information.  If I were an artist I’d draw a head on a long neck twisting around like a spring.  The face would be laughing.

2.  It’s a wonder the parts of the body work at all.  There are a few flaws in the design.  Like knees.

And the uterus is above the bladder.  A pregnant woman I know couldn’t pee for 12 hours.  Her baby was the size of an avocado.  (See babycenter.com.)  Her growing uterus shifted just enough to block urine trying to come out of her bladder.  Kind of like when you step on a hose hard to block the water so you can release it and spray your sister in the face.  Maybe the pregnant woman will uncork the tube from her catheter and spray it like little boys do.

3.  I’m at the beach.  At 8:00 am I sit on the balcony with my hot green tea and listen to the ocean and watch the waves just keep coming.  My soul rests.

I love the beach.  I want to hear it and see it.  I don’t go on the beach these days.  I sunburn easily and my brother has had melanoma.  I’m afraid of twisting my un-artificial knee.  I don’t like being hot.  And I’m never sure I’ll be able to get up if I sit down on the sand.

I love the beach, especially anytime other than summer.  I want an oceanfront condo with a shaded balcony, an unobstructed view of the waves and a comfortable chair with a way to prop up my feet.  A squishy couch for naps, a good novel, a copy of The Sun Magazine and five days of solitude all pamper my Spirit.

4.  Most living creatures are fine.  My zookeeper daughter used to take care of snakes and reptiles.  The little squiggly things have personalities.  One skink (no, not skunk) cuddled against her neck when she picked it up.  The snakes were boring, but I didn’t mind being in the snake room.  Her dad and her husband did.

However.  Slugs are totally disgusting and give me the shivers.  Slugs came to our front step every time it rained at our old house.  Some were the size of a fat dill pickle from a barrel at Mast General Store in Boone.

You can kill a slug by pouring salt on it.  It probably suffocates.  I bought lots of round, blue salt boxes each spring for 7 years.  I got excited, almost giddy, when I poured salt on the slugs.  (I killed the slugs when my kids weren’t watching.)

I’m not really a kind, compassionate person.

The True Story Of Rudolph

(I really hope this is a true story.  Thank you, Sam.)

A man named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night.

His 4-year-old daughter Barbara sat on his lap quietly sobbing. Bob’s wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer.  Little Barbara couldn’t understand why her mommy could never come home. Barbara looked up into her dad’s eyes and asked, “Why isn’t Mommy just like everybody else’s Mommy?” Bob’s jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears. Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger. It had been the story of Bob’s life. Life always had to be different for Bob.

Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he’d rather not remember. From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in. Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn’s bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the Chicago slums. Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938.

Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn’t even afford to buy a Christmas gift. But if he couldn’t buy a gift, he was determined to make one – a storybook! Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal’s story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope. Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling. Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose. Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn’t end there.

The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print  Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores. By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book.

In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller. Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter. But the story doesn’t end there either.

Bob’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore , it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry.  ”Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of “White Christmas.”

The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again. And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn’t so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.

Alone and Together

I love my family.  I especially love my granddaughter, Adaline.  I have trouble holding her now–she’s 18 lbs. of wiggle and joy and my arthritis-damaged wrists are only safe for her when we sit quietly and rock.  I’m still good at getting her to go to sleep, if she is willing to miss what’s going on.

We are blessed to have both girls and their families close by.  Our two sons-in-law are very different, but equally entertaining.  All together (including 3 rescued dogs) we make a raucous, raunchy commotion.

The original four of us are 3 introverts and one extrovert.  The introvert daughter married an introvert and their genes combined to create an (apparently) extrovert baby.  The extrovert daughter married an equally driven extrovert and they adopted a big dog that has finally begun to settle down some.

Extroverts are energized by being around people.  Introverts are energized by solitude.  I am an introvert.  My husband is an introvert.  We are all (including our aging dog) tired at the end of a weekend with people, even if we love them.

After the last people-full weekend, I changed the sheets on our bed and started on a pile of laundry.  I wrote and I read.  I went through all the fliers/brochures/emails about classes and workshops available this fall.  Many of them call to me, but I can’t add very much to the rhythm of my days.

I need balance and moderation.  I want it all.

People tell me their sacred stories.  I want to listen to them with presence and serenity. My sponsor says we can only give from our overflow.  I remember HALT (Am I Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired?).

God, help me find my balance, so that I may do your will.  Amen.

Turtle or Gazelle?

Kim and Donna, as part of a Soul Collage workshop, led a guided meditation to help us envision our totem animals.  I was hoping for something graceful and elegant, able to leap in the air and run fast—a gazelle, perhaps.  My Spirit gave me a big, old, ponderous, turtle.

Turtle is not glamorous, but really not as uninspiring as I first thought.  Here is what I learned about turtle symbolism:

1.  Turtle’s whole life is one of steadfastness, effort, and patience. It lives a slow and steady life of “non-doing”.

2.  Turtle takes its wisdom one day at a time – not reacting, simply accepting and moving on in its natural rhythm.

3.  The medicine of Turtle is its deliberate and thorough approach to life.  

4. Turtle naturally withdraws and goes within when in turmoil. It does not need to learn the importance of this focusing inward, it naturally knows.

5.  Turtle is courageous because it makes progress only when it sticks its neck out and moves forward with patient, steady flow.

6.  Turtle is always at home within itself.

I have spent years learning about living one day at a time, being in the moment, and accepting life as it comes to me.  All those words in all those books and discussions are summed up in “Turtle”.  Once again I am humbled.  And delighted by how cleverly Spirit teaches me.