Sorry Not Sorry

I'm sorry I keep pointing you towards Brené Brown's podcast, Unlocking Us, but I'm not that sorry.* I've appreciated every episode. Brené recently interviewed one of my very favorite writers, Sue Monk Kidd, and I can't wait to read her newest book, The Book of Longings.


The episode that dropped today is Part One of two-parts on the subject of apologizing. She interviews Harriet Lerner, and they discuss the book, Why Won't You Apologize: Healing Big Betrayals and Everyday Hurts. Their episode, I'm Sorry: How to Apologize & Why it Matters, is deep, funny, helpful, vulnerable, and you'll never shop for bananas the same way again. 




* Big apology no-no, using "but"

Baker's Dozen

The search for the Hummers continues. Wil had it in his head we would find twelve on Monday. We've identified each and every one within a one-mile radius from our home. It was time to take it up a notch. 

Not far away is a road with lots of used car lots. We headed there--him in the backseat, me in the front, the front passenger seat scooted as far up as it could possibly go, so he could have leg room.

Right away we found four, boom, boom, boom, boom. We were energized and encouraged to keep going. With so little traffic on the road, we could see both sides of it and he took one and I took the other, shouting out, "There's one!" to every Hummer and sort-of-Hummer-looking-Toyota. Extra joy when we found one in burgundy. 

I convinced him a Brink's truck was a type of Hummer, so we got our twelfth and I was able to start our way home. He was happy. I was happy. It took 20 miles and chewed up our morning, but that was kind of the point. He was singing church songs from the backseat, and I was lost in my own reverie, when all of a sudden he spotted another one parked along the side of the road. "There's another one! We found a baker's dozen!"

He has not asked me one time when all of this will be over, when church will resume, or his job, class, his beloved Mondays with Timmy. I know he looks forward to all of that, but he is managing to take this one day at a time. He exemplifies the Law of Attraction and manifests both what he wants and what he needs. He's finding joy in what is available to him right here, right now, and believes in abundance--not only will he have plenty, he'll have plenty plus one.

Something Worth Keeping

For whatever reason, the Comcast account I've had for a million years, would not accept my password. It quickly became obvious that I would need a new password, which set off a whole chain of events, culminating with me losing all my "mailboxes" in Apple Mail, that were associated with Comcast.

Gone.

Dozens of folders I'd meticulously kept since I got the account... when was that, 20 years ago? I am a backer-upper, so I figured there would be a way to reclaim them using my external hard drive, Time Machine, or some combination thereof.

After many Google searches and attempts, the files were not restored. I could probably call Apple and try and have someone walk me through it on the phone, but the phone weighs two hundred pounds and the likely wait time stops me from doing so.

It feels a little like walking into my basement and discovering someone has given away all my junk. There is relief the basement is clean, but I never went through it to make sure something in there wasn't worth keeping.

Truth be told? I couldn't really tell you what 98% of those files were called or what they held. The ones I'm finding myself needing now, I have recreated and found messages from what I guess is the "cloud." 

I don't know how all this works.

I do know that we are all experiencing loss, and discovering that some things we are missing badly, and others, not so much. Having "things" removed suddenly and very little control over how and if we can get them back, causes us to grieve. 

Richard Rohr calls this time we're in, liminal space. a sense of being in between. What do we discard? What is worth keeping? 

A Cure to Loneliness

I've been working on this post for two days. That is to say, I've opened it up and tried to type, but was interrupted for any number of reasons--most having to do with "finding fugitives." Wil has been obsessed with "Dog the Bounty Hunter" for years, and he's turned it into a game. During this time of confinement, he's been going on walks with one of us. It's great, he walks fast and is getting much-needed exercise. The downside is the walks are--shockingly--driven by something as random as finding four Hummers (fugitives). When three, but not four are found, there is no peace. Fortunately, there are several models of cars he's willing to call a "Hummer," but sometimes when OCD is particularly pronounced, we have to not only find one, but in a particular color. Drove 15 miles and walked three times yesterday, looking for a "burgundy red" one, to no avail. 

He's lonely. He misses church, work, going to the mall, seeing his friends, going to restaurants. No amount of Hummers are going to replace what's been taken away.

I often listen to podcasts as I putter around my house. I love Brené Brown's new podcast, Unlocking Us. What I loved about her interview with Dr. Vivek Murthy, on loneliness and connection, was their conversation around the disconnect with those that don't share our opinions, values, and beliefs, which creates its own sense of loneliness.

The tendency is to vilify, name-call, blame and dismiss those with differing opinions. As Peggy Noonan says in her great article, What Comes After the Coronavirus Storm? "... we’re too quick to categorize, and ungenerous in our categorizations. Everybody isn’t only the role they’re playing at the moment."

During one of our walks we stopped and visited with my 93-year-old neighbor who was working in her yard. We asked her if she needed anything? Could we do anything for her? "Oh, honey, no, we have everything we need," she answered, then went on to compare these times to WWII, and her high school years being "war-torn."  "I just pray this brings us all together--helps to unite our country and world. We need that so badly," she said. 

Many of us are experiencing unprecedented loneliness. Let's unify in unprecedented ways. Let's have unprecedented amounts of empathy and understanding for one another. 

It feels as though the Universe has sent us all to our rooms to think about our behavior. We can't come out until we're ready to be kind.

Interview with Enlightened Empaths

It is a great pleasure to share with you my interview with two favorite podcasters, Denise Correll and Samantha Fey. If you aren't already a subscriber to Enlightened Empaths, you'll want to rectify that ASAP, if not before. Truly, not enough can be made about the impact their show has had on my life. I have binge-listened over the last few months, and learned a ton, nodded in recognition, and been connected with like-minded individuals. To be asked to join them on the show was a thrill and honor. Take a listen.

Take Me Home

A dear childhood friend texted me the other day, "I'm listening to John Denver and dancing in my kitchen, and I thought of you." Fair to say, we did a lot of listening to John Denver and dancing in our youth. We danced with abandon in the living room, practicing for hours then putting on performances. We had such confidence in our abilities.

Neither of us grew up to be professional dancers. That was never the goal. We danced because we loved to dance.

Like all the rest of us, my friend is stuck at home, but instead of going stir crazy, she's dancing. Making the most of it. Pulling out the oldies and reconnecting with friends.

I was inspired to tune into my John Denver Pandora station, and was gifted with "You Fill Up My Senses" "Annie's Song," and "Leaving on a Jet Plane," interspersed with some great James Taylor, Carole King, and Jim Croce. I knew every word to every song.

But I doubted myself. I listened and sang and before I let the words out, I asked myself, Are those really the lyrics? Then, I sang something else that was wrong, because I didn't believe I knew in my bones what was right.

As my friend Ilonka Michelle O'Neil says, "Metaphor much?"

She also says, "This breath in. This breath out." She's a yoga teacher (among other things). She has taught me much through the years of our long-distance friendship. One need not be close to be close. 

My friends teach me. I teach my friends. We teach each other. We breathe in. We breathe out. We sing the words to songs we know in our hearts.

And we dance wherever life finds us.

Acuity

I was so excited for 2020. This was going to be the year of clear vision--just like the number implied. What had been murky, would settle. I'd be able to see goals and dreams come into view and be achievable, because I'd be so focused, what with the perfect sight and all.

Turns out? I was right. 2020 is the year of acuity. 

In the last month, a lot has been redefined, reconsidered, reprioritized. Richard Rohr is defining this time as an "initiation."

I have been using my Mother Mary Oracle Deck more lately. I have many decks, and this is my all-time favorite. Several times I've drawn Our Lady of Soul Birth. It's a message for me, but that message is for all of us: something is trying to be birthed.

We keep hearing the term "unprecedented" as it relates to what's going on for all of us. What makes it especially "unprecedented" is it is happening to all of us. It's not just "over there." We won't all be impacted exactly the same, but every life is altered. 

I've been able to shield Wil from lots of world events, but this is something I can't keep from him, much as I'd like to. The bubble he's been living in has been burst. 

He's risen to the occasion in ways I never would have predicted. He's doing more chores, being more flexible about what he eats, helping to walk the dog, which is giving him exercise he was lacking. He's not complaining of being bored, or going stir-crazy. He's rolling with it. I'd go so far as to say he's finding joy in the new normal. He loves the games we are playing as a family. He's been extra-funny, making us all laugh until we cry. 

I didn't see any of that coming. 

I have a rule: When something has been recommended to me one time, I consider it, when it happens a second time, I look into it seriously, and when for a third time it comes up, I jump. That's what happened with Brené Brown's new podcast, "Unlocking Us." Yesterday, I listened to two, FFTs and Comparative Suffering. I highly recommend you listen to both, ASAP. I'm finding it really hard to settle down and read a book, but I can listen to a podcast with my head phones on, and do laundry, cook, or very satisfying chores such as deep cleaning the stove top. 

I don't have 20/20 vision about what I'm seeing right now. To gain 20/20 vision, you have to be 20 feet away. We are in it. We aren't "away." It could be a while before we are "away," but we can squint, and look for clues from those around us. We can take our cues from others we trust to help lead us through. 

Dueling Banjos

This last Christmas, Wil asked Santa for $45,000 to be applied to his debit card. "Do you want $45,000, too? I can ask him for $90,000," he told me, certain it was as simple as that. "I also asked him for two banjos, one for me and one for Stan--we can play 'Dueling Banjos.'"

This desire to play "Dueling Banjos" was repeated numerous times. Santa wasn't sure what to do about it, or the $45,000 x 2. Despite Wil's reiterating of the wants, both to us and Santa (via email) in the end, he received $45 in cash, with a note that said, "I don't work with banks, but here is $45." Santa tried to track down two reasonably priced banjos. He went to used instrument stores and looked online, but the cheapest he could find at the time, were over $200/each. Santa got creative and gave him two $35 ukuleles with a note saying, "Banjos are hard to learn, please practice with a ukulele and then we can talk about a banjo."

Despite the fact that he got a purple ukulele (his favorite color) and Stan got a red one (his favorite color), Wil was not pleased, to say the least. He tried to be gracious, but his disappointment was obvious, and you could see the wheels turning--he was looking for a work-around. "I already know how to play a banjo, Uncle Jack taught me, I've known for a long time how to play a banjo. Santa must have forgotten that Uncle Jack used to take lessons, and he taught me everything he knew."

Yes, Uncle Jack did take banjo lessons. No, while Jack was alive, he never taught Wil.

But the veil is extra-thin these days, and it's totally possible that Wil and Jack have been having banjo lessons in the astral plane. While that might sound a little out there to a lot of people, I am believing such things more and more these days, and more and more, it gives me great hope. 

A few days ago Stan, Wil and I were in the car, and he casually mentioned that Devohn (the Easter Bunny--you remember him, right?) would be bringing him two banjos for Easter. It had been confirmed via email, and he was counting the days. 

"I didn't know the Easter Bunny brought gifts," Stan commented, "he doesn't usually, does he?" 

"He's going to this year," Wil answered with total confidence. Stan and I looked at each other with a knowing that yes, with everything that's been cancelled for Wil, indefinitely, including his favorite three-day celebration of Easter in the Church, Devohn would be finding a way to get the boy two banjos. "He's going to bring us each a pick, too."

It occurred to Devohn's helper that eBay might be a good source, and one that had not been previously considered. Devohn's helper doesn't know one single thing about banjos, not even what type of "pick" is used, but Google proved helpful and orders were placed. 

Wil is not concerned with the details--those are all up to Santa, and if he doesn't pull it off, he goes to the next source on his list. He has utter belief that his desires are heard and will come to fruition. 

Believe in magic.

Subject to Change

I had a phone reading with Denise Correll, The Grateful Messenger and half of the Enlightened Empaths, what feels like a million years ago. It was, in fact, three weeks ago. 

At the end of her reading she said, "This is all subject to change and free will." 

I understood.

I didn't understand.

Not to the degree things have changed since then. My free will is working overtime to adjust to the rapidly changing developments in my world, and the greater world. 

I'm trying to hold on. What I'm being called to do is let go. 

I'm seeing lots of posts on how people are "trying to stay busy." I get that. I am by nature a busy bee. I can create work for myself like no other. If ever there were a time, however, to stop being "busy," it is now. We are quite literally, being called into life within a hermitage.

The re-set button has been pushed. We've been given lots of requests to do so, but most of us have not heeded those first subtle, then more imploring signs. That's my humble opinion. 

When I'm not playing Millennial Monopoly, Scattergories, Uno or our new favorite game, Just One, I'm sneaking out with Honey for walks, alone, to listen to my go-tos: Eckhart Tolle* and Richard Rohr** They are both responding to these times we're living in, with their deep wisdom, intellect and heart.

There are lessons galore in all this, and tremendous opportunity for change, creation, innovation, pulling together. Something new will emerge, it's the New Earth Eckhart has been talking about for years, and Richard Rohr calls the Universal Christ (a.k.a Another Name for Everything). 

Let's remain in our cocoons, socially-distant, like true hermits, so that when we emerge, we've been transformed into butterflies.

* Richard Rohr re: pandemic

** A Message from Eckhart re: pandemic

TAG

I haven't taught TAG (Talented and Gifted) students for over 20 years. Didn't like the name then, don't like it now, but did love the job. It was part-time and I had so much autonomy. I came in, did my job, and left. I loved my students and my funky boiler-room-turned-classroom.

A recurring dream of mine has been that I've forgotten I have the job, and have simply not shown up at work for weeks, possibly months. One day it dawns on me, Oops! I have not done my job! Then panic sets in and I don't even know where to start. Do I even actually have the job? Maybe I got fired! Would it be weird if I were to show up now? 

Had that dream again last night, but it had a coronavirus twist. There was no school being held, but I was still supposed to do my job--from home. The students were going to come to my house, so I was scrambling to prepare with what I had at home. I went through files and pulled out activities I thought they would enjoy, and I could teach from my dining room. 

Woke up before the students arrived, but not before I'd successfully prepared.

That's really all any of us can do--successfully prepare and wait. We are the students. We are the teachers. We are the lessons. We are talented, and we are gifted. We got this.

Be Hoppy

I walked around Sisters yesterday afternoon with Honey. The 60 degree day and the clear view of the mountains were discordant with the closed shops, handmade signs on the doors, the mail piled up on the sidewalk.

Honey knows something is going on. She can't settle down. She's picking up on the collective anxiety. She's an empath--most dogs are. 

If ever there were a time to practice presence, it's now. Things are changing so quickly, and there's only so much we can "do." After following all the rules and guidelines to B SAFE, it's time to B HOPEFUL BE HELPFUL & B HOPPY.

We Had a System

I have just come back from a self-created errand. Did I ever think I’d be doing this? Looking for a reason to run around town?

That was before the coronavirus. Less than two weeks ago I  felt on track. Since then, Wil’s volunteer work at the Catholic schools is on hold for at least six more weeks. The Archdiocese of Portland has cancelled all Catholic Masses for at least another month. His Monday class with Timmy at PHAME was cancelled for the rest of this term, and just yesterday, we got notice they will not be having classes in the spring.  It’s quite possible Portland will be one of the next “shelter-in-place” cities, forcing us to stay inside our homes except to go out for essential groceries. 

Every single thing on my calendar has been cancelled: appointments, time with friends, gatherings with my Sacred Circle. It was Chris’s idea to set us all up on Zoom and do a virtual gathering. While it will not have the same palpable energy in the room when we’re all together, it will be nice to connect. 

The last time we gathered was at my house. After we blew out all the white candles in tall glass jars—the ones Anne decorated with bits of twine and green ribbon she’d gotten from a trip to New Orleans—I let the wax harden before putting them in a box. It was my intent to bring them to the next gathering and leave them with that host. We had a system. 

After finally arriving on the second and fourth Thursdays of every month as our meeting time, the next gathering turned out to be Spring Break. I would not be in town. I’ll just drop off the candles to Cindy’s before I leave town, I thought. Then after they moved their meeting to Zoom, I realized I could “attend,” and maybe I would want my own candle to light while gathering. Maybe everyone would want theirs, too. We might all want to have our individual light join with our Circle’s both through the Internet and in ways that stretch far beyond. 

I texted the group before heading out the door. I was going to take the whole box to Cindy’s so she could light them all when we met online, or I was going to drive all over town and drop off each one separately. Regardless, I was leaving my house, alone. I would put on a podcast and look at the trees blossoming all around me. I would see signs of spring despite the fact the circumstances felt like the dead of winter. “I’m on my way to Cindy’s to drop off the candles, but I was wondering if you’d rather each have your own back? I am happy, (thrilled) to deliver them each to your front porches. Just let me know your preference.” They quickly responded that yes, they could use the light, they’d be grateful to have a part of a greater whole.

To plan my route I consulted Stan. To say I am directionally challenged is an understatement. I could plug in each address into my phone and rely on GPS, but I knew I’d be zig-zagging around in an inefficient way, and I also knew this was the kind of task he’d light up about. I gave him the addresses, he put them on a Post-It then numbered them for me. “You’re going to want to start with the one on NE 9^th. That’s right where Jeff and Jill used to live. You know that area.” 

Yes, I know that area. Our marriage began in a house right up the street from there. I got the candles and my list in the car, plugged in Enlightened Empaths, and set out. There were so few cars on the road it felt eerie, and I felt guilty. I was still practicing “social-distancing,” no one would see me or be anywhere near me. The six-foot-apart rule would not be broken. 

I headed over to drop off Number One, and within a few blocks I could feel the tension leave my shoulders. This felt good: having a purpose and being away. When the first candle had been delivered, I readjusted my GPS to find Number Two and quickly realized I’d be driving right by our old house. It looked good—better than when we’d sold it almost 24 years ago. The people were standing on the front porch, and there was a For Sale sign in the lawn. 

As I made my way through town dropping off candles, I picked up memories. First house. First child. First death of a parent. That house held all those and so many more. I turned off the podcast and cracked the windows. The sounds of birds chirping was mixed with the sounds of families walking and talking, riding bikes, being outside together on a day and a time they would not ordinarily be.

These are not ordinary times.

We had a system.

Now, we are charged with keeping our light going, and joining it with others’. 

A Simple Prayer

We have lost a beloved member of our community, Dottie. Not long ago she learned she had Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Now, she is gone. Dottie and Wil had a special bond. She was a neighbor, parishioner, cool grandma-like person to him. They made each other laugh. Several times she and her husband had Wil over to hang out--once, I was invited too. The four of us sat around the table and had snacks and drinks and yucked it up.

She is deeply missed.

When Wil learned of her death, he suggested he write sympathy cards to Dottie's husband and niece--a family friend of ours. In the card for Dottie's husband he wrote, "SORRY BOUT YOUR WIFE WE HAD GREAT PIANO MEMORIES AND IPAD AND TV" In the card for our friend and her family, he wrote, "SORRY FOR A HUGE LOSS YOUR PRAYERS ARE WITHIN US" then he put a big smiley face. 

He may have meant, "Our prayers are with you," but who knows? I prefer "Your prayers are within us," anyway. I'm switching over. 

In kindergarten both my children learned a simple, yet profound prayer: "We pray for all those who are sad, afraid, hurt or alone." For all of you who are sad, afraid, hurt or alone, your prayers are within us.

Amen. 

Crossing to Safety

Had a dream I was trying to cross a bog, but the water was deep. The only way to get across was to hang onto the reeds. While in the midst, grabbing first one clump of reeds and then reaching for the next clump, slowly making my way to the land, I kept calling out to the people on the other side, "Which way am I going?" I was confused and disoriented, couldn't see or make out where I was in relation to where I needed to be to be safe. No one on the other side would answer me. It was all up to me. 

When I finally made it safely to land, I saw someone I recognized, someone I trusted. She had not offered one bit of help. "How would you have felt if it were your family you were trying to get back to?" I yelled. She had no answer.

I'm guessing the dream is coronavirus-related. Going to Trader Joe's yesterday felt very every-man-for-himself-y. 

Let's help each other cross safely to the other side of this--shall we?

Appointment with Peace

To say these are dicey times, is an understatement. I think we're all feeling it--some are tapping into the collective angst and adding it to their own, and, well, it's a lot.

Times like these accentuate our need to "do" something. It can feel counter-intuitive to stop, go within, and get still.

If you are looking for a helpful tool to use to quiet and focus the mind, I highly recommend this oracle deck by Sonja Choquette, Trust Your Vibes. Today, I drew the card, "Meditate." There is a guidebook that goes with the cards, that has short, helpful summaries of the cards. The guidebook ends the description of the "Meditate" card with the words, "It's your appointment with peace."

Book your appointment today.

Are You an Empath?

Took me 56 years to get the proper "diagnosis." Only after listening to the podcast, Enlightened Empaths, did I come to understand this has been what's "wrong" with me all these years. It's more than being "over-sensitive," it's actually picking up the feelings, energies, pain and suffering of others, and soaking it all up like a sponge. 

It explains the intense need to be alone. The tendency to get over-stimulated. The sensory system feeling bombarded and wanting to shut it all down. Things are too loud, too bright, too chaotic, too much input--enough to blow the fuses.

"Empaths filter their world through their intuition, and have a difficult time intellectualizing their feelings," says Dr. Judith Orloff, a renowned expert on empaths.

Here is a self-test to help you determine whether you, or someone you know, is an empath.

Regardless of whether you are or are not an empath, do yourself a favor and check out the podcast, Enlightened Empaths, available on all streaming platforms. You will love the hosts, Samantha Fey and Denise Correll. They are fun and easy to listen to, and have amazing guests and discussions. 

The Hole

I wake from a dream and it takes several moments before I realize it was a dream—it felt so real. I was driving my car to an old house I had once lived in. I had a lampshade that matched one we’d left there, and I wanted the new owners to have it.

In the middle of the wide street, is a gigantic hole in the road, big enough for a truck to fall into. There are no cones, blockades, caution tape, nothing at all to keep someone from falling right into certain death. That’s interesting, I think to myself, that wasn’t there when we lived there.

The new owners haven’t moved in, there is some construction work going on. The contractor is there but he’s watching TV and eating a snack instead of working. I go into the house and explain why I’m there, I have, as it turns out, not only a lampshade but a box of this-and-that: small wooden angels, bits of lace, it’s a box of heirlooms from my own life—things I was given or collected from my mom and grandmothers. 

As I sort through the box with the kindly contractor, we agree the new owners aren’t really going to want any of these things. Before heading back I sit and watch TV with the contractor, then look at my watch and remember I have to meet my family soon, I better be on my way. 

I drive carefully around the hole with my box of things in the backseat. Should I just toss them in the hole? That feels wasteful. I will take them to the antique mall and donate them. Perhaps there are things in there that the dealers will want, items they believe their customers are looking for. 

I know that I am done with the box, tired of lugging it around. I don’t need things to keep me connected to my ancestors—what they have left me is within.