Top 10 Things the RV Will Include

10.  Table tennis

 9.   Bouncy house

 8.   Bowling alley

 7.    Four TVs

 6.    Guest room

 5.    Four bunk beds

 4.    Couch with built-in refrigerator

 3.    Swimming pool

 2.    Creek running by

 1.    Pawn shop

On a Lighter Note

Top 10 Nice Things that Happened Today

10. Called SSI, and the person I was calling was in, and answered the phone!

 9.  Was told, "You are right, we were wrong. Go ahead and shred that." (So many things right about that.)

 8. Wil went to the dentist and has, miraculously, no cavities.

 7. I sat in the waiting room and read bad (by bad, I mean great) magazines.

 6. To celebrate, Wil and I went out for an early dinner - so early, we were still in time for the lunch special.

 5. At dinner Wil told me all about his plan to buy a three-story motor home, and move into it, in our backyard.

 4. He said, and I quote, "I'm thinking way outside the box here, Care." His RV will be multi-colored, multi-level, and will require his permission before entering. I'm to live in my own house, and leave him alone.

 3. The pass code to his new digs will be F-A-R-T.

 2. When we got home from "linner" (lunch/dinner), I found a lovely card and flowers from a secret admirer.

 1. Now I'm on my way over to Nancy's to watch more bad (and by bad, I mean great) TV and have a few (laughs).

The Inspection

Had a dream last night that my cousin, Emily, and I, each had received mysterious notes telling us to arrive the following morning at some designated location, and that there would be an "inspection."

Now, I am many things, almost first among them, is punctual. In the dream, I was dragging my feet, purposely stalling, intentionally not making it in time for the "inspection." I found Emily, she needed to use the bathroom before we could leave. I was happy for the extra time that took up. On and on the dream went, until we eventually got to the mysterious site - very late.

All kinds of people were there that we both knew (including her mother and two sisters). First thing said to me was the event went until 8:30 PM. 8:30 PM was news to me, and I wasn't having it. I proceeded to spend the next while doing more stalling, hovering around the perimeter of the gathering, watching from afar, all under the pretext of having to make arrangements to stay that late, as I hadn't arranged for anyone to be with Wil that long.

I never did join in.

I never even found out what the point of the gathering was, and what the attendees were actually doing.

I successfully avoided the inspection.

I'm certain that was not the point.

As Within, So Without

Not only have I been on a purging-the-house-and-garage kick for a couple months now, I've been simultaneously trying to figure out what I'm eating and/or drinking, that has been causing me horrible reflux for months, and purging that from my diet.

It's been a much more daunting task than cleaning the house from what I don't need. I appear to be somewhat of a mystery. What seemed to be your run-of-the-mill GERD has not responded to treatment. It's not responded to me eliminating most of the things I love: coffee, chocolate, alcohol, tomatoes (actually, tomato sauce), onions, citrus, garlic, cheese, nuts, avocado. It's not responded to aggressive antacid treatment. It's not responded to buying and sleeping on a ridiculous wedge to keep me nearly bolt upright at night.

It's not responded.

It's shaping up to be food allergies that are causing the problem.

And stress.

Removing the causes of both seem impossible.

Saw an interview with Christiane Northrup, MD last night, when I couldn't sleep. She said that what we believe, is more important than our genetics. She quoted all kinds of fascinating studies of people proved what we tell ourselves about ourselves, what we accept from what our culture tells us about ourselves, and what we focus on, can dramatically change our health.

"Health is contagious," she said. "Everyone talks about disease being contagious, but health is contagious." She said that if one person quits smoking, the ripples go as far as four degrees of separation.

Last Wednesday evening I was just minding my own business, when I suddenly got "that" feeling that I might throw up. I'll fast forward to the end of the story: 10 violent hours later, I finally got into bed to rest, and stayed there three days.

When what you're doing isn't working, it's time to do something different. For me, for now, it's about eliminating what isn't working: junk in my house that bogs me down, foods and drinks that burn my body, stress that can be avoided, or at least better managed.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Exhale slowly.

Repeat.

CTSD

Through a wild small world and no accidents kind of thing, I recently had a conversation with a woman that had read my book, and shared it with a bunch of people at work. I then learned that she is a mental health professional, specializing in PTSD.

I came home from the encounter and was telling STM about it, and mentioned I would consider going to her, as I'm sure I have PTSD. "PTSD? That implies the trauma is in the past, that it's over. I have CTSD!"

"Chronic?" I asked.

"Current," he said. "I want PTSD for my birthday!"

Then we, of course, belly laughed, because what else are you going to do?

Wil was listening, and nothing makes him belly laugh harder than hearing others belly laugh (or watching them get injured, but that's another post).

"Well, I have ETSD," he quickly added, "Elmo traumatic stress disorder!"

By the looks of Elmo, I would say he's the one with the trauma.

Grounded

"Keep your eyes on the stars, and 

your feet on the ground."

- Theodore Roosevelt

When we say someone is "grounded," we mean they are sensible, practical, balanced, down-to-earth, low-maintenance, realistic, without pretenses or illusions.

To feel grounded, to be grounding, to ground someone -  all good things.

Even when a child acts out and a parent grounds them, it can be a good thing. A time when distractions and privileges are removed, and one is forced to stay and be "home."

Most of us are in need of more grounding.

Recently, someone I greatly respect and admire, who happens to have English as his second language, said, "Wil puts me on the ground."

And while there are moments/hours/days that he puts me in the ground, for the most part, he is my biggest grounding influence.

It's very difficult to be high-maintenance, full of pretense and illusions when you've got someone forcing you to keep it real all the time. If you think, for one minute, that it's all about you, or even a little bit about you, then you're welcome to borrow any number of special needs "children" I know, to get you over that, fast.

Have a friend who recently had abdominal surgery. From the time she was told she needed the surgery, to the time she had it, was a short period - not enough, probably, for her special-needs son to get used to the idea. Shocker: her surgery and recovery were not about her. Her son had one heck of a time with "her" recovery, the changes and disruptions to the status quo.

If you believe that you co-create your life with whatever/whomever you call your higher power, that you signed up for these exact challenges and opportunities to evolve your soul and learn whatever it was you came here to learn, then you have to accept that getting over yourself is part of it.

It's not about "you."

I believe that's because there is no "you," there is only "us," and "you" are not separate from the collective Us, You are  Us.

We are one.

An Echo in Innocent Souls

I have a meeting today to discuss one of my many hot buttons. The "button" is the way in which many people view those with intellectual/developmental disabilities, and the various slang, attitudes, even gestures and facial expressions used when casually throwing around words like "idiot," "stupid," "dumb," or the forbidden r-word. It's pervasive and to a large degree, acceptable. I just heard someone say, "The man developed a horrible disease which left him unable to speak, and he was not able to share his brilliant mind with anyone. Nobody could see how wonderful he was." One does not need to be "brilliant" to be "wonderful."  Because there are no accidents, one of my favorite daily e-mails today spoke on this issue,  Piro-o-Murshid Inayat Khan in the daily e-mail called Bowl of Saki: "The great personalities who have descended on earth from time to time to awaken in man that love, which is his divine inheritance, have always found an echo in innocent souls rather than in great intellects. Man often confuses wisdom with cleverness, but a man can be clever and not wise, and by cleverness a person may strive and strive, and yet not reach God. It is a stream, the stream of love, which leads towards God." We've worked so hard to bring awareness and equality to the marginalized, the oppressed, the minorities of this country. Let us not forget to include those with intellectual/developmental disabilities in our streams of love.

Things We Know Are True, But Still Don't Believe

There are no accidents.

Worrying doesn't solve anything.

Most of the things we worry about, never come to fruition.

It's the little things.

The qualities in others that bug us, are the qualities in ourselves we need to examine.

We are one.

What we resist, persists.

We can't change others, we can only change ourselves.

There is no scarcity.

Cooperation does not involve a fight for power.

Honesty is the best policy.

The first person to say, "I'm sorry," wins.

All we have is the present moment.

Love is all there is.

Purging and Pondering

Life, we know, is cyclical. Some cycles follow the moon, others, the seasons. I find myself very effected by the light/dark rotation, the days-of-the-week, the patterns, rhythms, and circles of nature, and of life.

It's been over seven years since I gave this house a good purging. I was 44 and in a definite period of Then-and-Now. I'm 52 and in an altogether different space and place in my body, in my thinking and in my soul.

I've got something going on now that has probably crossed over into OCD, but I don't care. There is an urgency, a deep need, a craving for "space." With my children about to be 21 and 19, there is more than ever, a clarity about what was in the past, what is in the present, and a making room for What is to Come.

I don't need my high school cap and gown.

I don't need my children's baby teeth.

I don't need the shoes I wore for my wedding.

I don't need every card or letter ever written to me - regardless of how sweet and lovely they may be.

I don't need the old crib and matching bedding, complete with bumper.

I don't need the photo albums containing all the pictures of students I taught over 20 years ago.

I don't need all the old Barbies and trucks, and any attachment to what my theoretical grandchildren will want to play with.

There is a lot of things I'm able to identify as being Not What I Need Now, as I clear and make way, empty and leave open the drawers and spaces made clean.

I recently heard that it's important to remember that acceptance is not the same as resignation. Resignation will take you down. Acceptance will lift you up. 

There is nothing more concrete than going through your earthly possessions and physically holding them in your hand, and being lifted up by the understanding that you aren't the same person that first beheld it.

As Easter was about to roll around again, Wil started talking about Devohn, the Easter Bunny. Some of you will remember that Wil has had a long infatuation with the Easter Bunny, and came up with the unlikely name of Devohn many years ago. 

Wil and I were asked to lead a small group of kids preparing for baptism at Easter. We enjoyed the experience very much, and were excited to stay up late on Holy Saturday, and welcome them into the waters at the Easter Vigil. We went to Bi-Mart and made up little gift bags to give "our" kids: a chocolate Cross, Easter candy, and a toy Devohn for each one. "I need to have a Devohn, too," Wil said. So, of course, instead of four Devohns, we bought five.

Wil came home and wrote this note, taping it to the mantle in the living room, just as he does his yearly Santa note (Go to my room top of stairs and say hi to me, Love, Wilson):

I sent a text to Devohn's helper, and reminded him that we were expecting him to reappear outside our house, as he had graciously done the year before. I prayed Devohn was still in existence, and easily accessible, as we'd not communicated about this beforehand. Devohn did not disappoint.

Now, each morning, Little Devohn wakes up, goes downstairs, and gets ready for his day while his "dad" is at school. Wil gently prepares a few snacks and some entertainment. "Now, you stay there, Devohn, and wait for me. I'll be back later. Be good."

And Devohn is good.

And that is where I "am." I am home with Devohn while he plays with his toy and eats his carrots. I am purging and pondering. I am coming face-to-face with the past, and being in the present. Every empty drawer and inch of extra space on a shelf a reminder that if we don't make room for things, they can't find their way in.

Backseat Driver

Last night I dreamed I was in a car with my friend, Kim. I knew that it was Kim's car, even though it didn't look like Kim's car. Thing is, we were both in the backseat, I in the middle, she on the right-hand side, by the window. I looked up and saw that indeed, no one was in the driver's seat. I turned to Kim and asked, "Are you driving?"

She said, "Yes, my mom bought me a special car, I can steer from this little panel on the door. She knew I would need a second way of steering when she saw the children I have."

"As great as that is, I'd feel so much better having you up there, in the driver's seat, making more precise and controlled driving decisions."

As can happen only in a dream, she was instantly transported, and safely behind the steering wheel, bringing me much relief.

Let's part-of-me this dream, shall we?

What part of me is in the backseat of my life, trying to steer from there?

What part of me has children that require a second/different/unusual, perhaps, way of "steering" them?

What part of me is more comfortable having someone else drive?

What part of me gives to my children a special "vehicle?"

What part of me is a backseat driver to others?

Unknowing

Got another download from Mary last night: "You don't know."

I knew right away what it was I didn't know, I don't know what's best for other people.

What a relief.

It's exhausting playing the If-She/He/They-Would-Only ___________ game.

If you believe we all come "here" to learn a pre-determined set of lessons, and I do, then who am I to say how one goes about learning them? I'm probably interrupting the process with all my good ideas. Anne Lamott calls this the disease of Good Ideas for Other People.

The good news is, this disease does not have to be chronic, and one doesn't even need to see a doctor or alternative health care provider to cure it. One only needs to know that they don't know.

Witness, rather than suggest.

Love, rather than judge.

Let go, rather than control.

Easier said than done.

Awaken into Action

Not enough can be made about Terry Whitaker's latest endeavor. She has partnered with two like-minded people, Beth Banning and Laura Pedro, to create a 6-week virtual event like no other. Awaken into Action has some of the world's most inspiring thought leaders: Gary Zukav, Maya Angelou, Bob Thurman, Michael Beckwith, Barbara Marx Hubbard, the list goes on and on (and on).

Do yourself a favor, click over to Awaken into Action and take a look. The teachings are all available online at no cost, for up to 72 hours after they air. If, however, life does not allow for you to catch them during that time, there are two different options available for purchasing the event, to watch and/or listen to, at your convenience.

It's a new year.

It could be a new you.

Awaken, into ACTION!

Seeing

The older I get, the harder it is to sleep well through the night. One thing I've found that helps, is to wear a sleep mask. Mine came from WinnCo and set me back $1.67.  I love it and everything about it. I love the texture against my skin. I love that the light from the clock does not shine in my eyes. I love that it mutes the world and separates me from it. I love that when I put it on, it signals my body that I am done, it's time to rest, I'm off duty.

Last night, I woke up and realized it was not on my face. I couldn't find it anywhere. My hand reached around and it was in none of its usual hiding places. I finally turned on the light, and wouldn't you know it? It was in my other hand. I was holding it the whole time.

It was a ruby slipper moment. The power, the magic, what I was looking for, was with me the whole time.

I am loving my word-of-the-year, all five days of it: Observe. My friend, Val, asked me, "What is the difference between witnessing and observing?" I've been mulling that over ever since. Finally, I did what any normal person would do - I Googled it. Found this article. I've now changed my word to "Witness." Observe is to strengthen the ego. No, thank you, mine is plenty strong. "The scientist observes, the mystic witnesses."

It's not easy see what's right in front of us, what we're "holding." It's hard enough to observe it, a greater challenge to witness it. But worth the effort.

Word-of-the-Year

It's been quite the week. Wil had two wisdom teeth removed on Monday morning. Fortunately, he only had two wisdom teeth. Fortunately, they were both on the top. Fortunately, those are supposed to be easier to remove/recover from. He's done very well. Bleeding was at a minimal, swelling isn't great, but not terrible, pain is gone, and was easily controlled from the beginning.

It was quite a year. 2014 kicked our butts in ways that are not bloggable. Let me leave you with this advice: Never say to the Universe, "I can't handle one more thing," as you will be sure to get "one" more "thing." It is not up to us to decide what we can and cannot handle. You would have thought I would have learned that one a long time ago, but apparently, I needed a refresher course.

It has been quite a 23-year marriage. Yesterday, STM and I celebrated our anniversary. We left Wisdom Teeth Boy with my mom and drove up to the mountain to have lunch and marvel at nature. The day was perfect, the weather ideal, the nearness, yet distance, from home, just what we needed.

We sat by the window, looked at Mt. Hood, watched the skiers come down, and lifted our glasses. "To us," we said, clinking and sitting back into our chairs to relax, relish, and reflect.

I am occasionally visited by Mary in my dreams, I don't see her, but I hear her voice, loudly and clearly, and there is a deep knowing in me when this occurs. In the wee hours of New Year's Eve, I heard, "Observe." Just that. One little word, but I "knew" what she meant.

There is a tendency to react. To respond. To repeat patterns and behavior either because it's worked, or because it's habit, but mostly, because it relieves our own anxiety, to do so. Not, because it is helpful.

The word-of-the-year, for me, is observe. The word feels passive to me, almost like a cop-out. But, indeed, it is far harder and requires more self-awareness, than "action," which is generally reaction.

Here's to 2015, a year to put a beat in between what "happens" and what we "do" about what happens. A year to challenge our patterns, beliefs, habits, reactions and relationships.

A year to observe.

Succession of Moments

Every year I think to myself, that I'm going to come up with some super neat winter solstice "thing" to do, possibly involving a group of friends, possibly involving a day of silence, possibly a lot of things.

And then I do none of them.

This year is no exception. The day came and went and I did not mark the shortest day-of-the-year in any significant way. I did just what I do most Sundays, with one exception: I went for an early morning walk with Kathleen. I went to church. Wil, Nancy and I went for lunch at Burgerville. Nancy and I went for an afternoon walk. I took a nap. I made dinner.

Last night, however, my mom and I went to a Christmas concert at our church. It was lovely. The music, the greenery, the people gathered round, all of it. It was a perfect way to be surrounded by every kind of light, on the darkest day-of-the-year.

Perhaps one does not have to mark big days, in big ways. Perhaps, as my hero, Corita Kent says, "Life is a succession of moments, to live each one is to succeed."

As we move into a week of "big days," let us "succeed" in each moment. Living. Breathing. Being.

Amen.

The Sacrament of the Present Moment

I am a part of a women's spirituality group. We meet once-a-month, as a group, for a Saturday retreat, and once-a-week, privately, with a spiritual director. It's a nine-month commitment, which began in September, and will conclude in June. I felt the timing was right for me, and these nine months were already going to be a time of deep discernment, and I might as well have some community and structure around that.

Last Saturday, we were studying a body of work, talking about how to enter the world with action. All good, right? I had no trouble with the transcendental precepts of Be attentive; Be reasonable; Be responsible; Be authentic. I struggled mightily, with Be intelligent.

What, then, does it mean to "enter" the world with "action?" I would argue that spiritual purity, does not come from a place of intellect.

Do those people that may never be launched, that need others to help them even be in the world, let alone "enter" it in any splashy way, not take "action?"

Must one ask, "How?" Must one ask, "Why?" Must one "understand" or march through a formal thought process of any kind, to be in union with "God?"

Richard Rohr (if you're not already receiving his daily e-mails, click the link and sign up immediately) says,  "I am convinced that the purest form of spirituality is the ability to accept the 'sacrament of the present moment' and to find God in what is right in front of me."

Some people are able to find God in an Orange Crush-flavored candy cane.  


There is "intelligence" to that that supersedes conventional intelligence, to which far too many people worship, if you ask me.

Yoga Money

I made the commitment to get back into yoga this fall. I'd give myself a solid C for effort. Some weeks I make it there twice, others once, and some (many), not at all. There are a number of reasons why I'm not able to attend, and many of them are very valid. In fact, many of the obstacles are beyond my control. And sometimes, when the day is packed, and yoga feels like "one more thing" squeezed in, I opt not to go, in favor of a more relaxed pace to the rest of the day. I choose to look at this as self-care.

I love my yoga class and all of the women in it. The instructor is idea (hi, Anne Marie!). Every time I'm there, I'm glad I am. I get all the benefits of a good yoga practice: greater strength, flexibility, balance, relaxation and community.

The cost of the class is nominal, and most of us pay in cash, each time. I've taken to keeping an envelope in a drawer, marked "Yoga Money." When I break a $20, I put some aside for yoga.

What's happened, is I have way more money in that envelope, than I have yoga sessions. I've decided that that money will now go towards anything that gives me the benefits of a good yoga practice: greater strength, flexibility, balance, relaxation and community.

Happy hour, anyone?

Pray, Coffee, Repeat

My morning coffee and prayer time, is, by far, my favorite time of the day. I actually love that Flicka wakes me up at 5:00, ready to start her day, as that gets me into my sacred space long before I'm on duty.

I can't imagine one without the other - who doesn't savor every sip of their perfect coffee, while sitting in "prayer," however that looks? Meditation? Reading from sacred books? Journaling? Chanting? Holding a mala or rosary, and reciting prayers? On the very rare days that life does not allow for at least a little bit of this time, I feel off-centered, ungrounded, lop-sided.

A couple of days ago, I got a text from my friend, Laurie, saying she was throwing a very spontaneous happy hour at her house, and could Nancy and I come? She said another mutual friend of ours, Jen, would be there, and that Jen had a present for me. Nancy and I cleared our very busy social calendars, and walked up to Laurie's.

When Jen arrived, she had a darling gift bag with her, and she started to hand it to me. "It's not anti-fungal cream, is it?" I asked. I couldn't imagine what Jen would be giving me as a gift, and thought, perhaps, it would be an inside-blog-reader joke.

It was not anti-fungal cream, or a joke of any kind. It was the perfect gift: a mug, with the perfect words, Pray, Coffee, Repeat.

Perfect.

As this season heats up for so many of us, adding additional obligations, duties, and commitments to already-full lives of obligations, duties and commitments, may you find your "coffee," and your "prayer," whatever that may be, and however that may look, wherever you can find them.

Amen.

Slight Problem

Wil sends me a text from the living room, "We have a slight problem though I am going to go to bad at 9:15 tonight because I got a watch South Beach towing now to 915 so I will be ready for bed at 9:15 though you might have to stay up till 915 for me because these are the only nights next every Wednesday have to stay up till 915 so we suspect that please and I am going to go to bed at 9:15 tonight because I need to watch South Beach tow"

I text back, from my bedroom,  "OK, but when are you showering?"

"9:02," he responds.

This goes on for quite some time, culminating with his "need" to finish the last episode, which, apparently, is some sort of finale.

By the time all is said and done, he's not showered, with brushed teeth, etc., until 9:45. I am shot.

Nonetheless, we must still partake in the mini-Advent ceremony, 'round the ol' fake Christmas tree.

"Care, I'm going to read six sentences, and you're going to look at the candy cane we're blessing, when I do."

I dutifully follow him around the tree, as he stops, reads a line from his little book, and points to the candy cane getting the blessing.

"Right here. The blue one. 'Alleulia, alleulia. Behold, the Lord comes to save his people; blessed are those prepared to meet him. Alleluia, alleluia.'"

"Now, we're doing this one. The Orange Crush one."

We both move into position, and he continues, "Receive, O Lord, these offerings we bring you in commemoration of Stain Francis Xavier, and grant that, as he journeyed to distant lands out of longing for the salvation of souls, so we, too, bearing effective witness to the Gospel, may, with our brothers and sisters, eagerly hasten towards you. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

At 10:00 I am finally released from my duty, and can go back to watching bad TV. It's hard to care too much about whom gets kicked off "Survivor" (for the 29th season), when you know that right down the hall, someone is blessing candy canes today, bearing effective witness to the Gospel, tomorrow.

There is no slight problem.

Dear Lord,

Just read Elizabeth Aquino's blog, and decided to copy her.

You might want to, too. 'Tis the season to need extra reinforcement.

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I await the oral and topical prescriptions, to clear the all-over-my-torso-and-now-my-arms, fungal infection.

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I am forced to put on "real" clothes, instead of the near 24/7 yoga pants, sports bra, etc., that got me into this predicament.

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I learn the peppermint tea I've been drinking in the name of good health, is the culprit to my heartburn.

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I block some people from Facebook, because seeing their posts makes it difficult to remain patient and filled with lovingkindness.

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I am asked to say a special prayer for a very special candy cane, the Dr. Pepper one (see last post).

Let me remain patient and filled with lovingkindness, as I await the eggnog latte and chocolate-dipped Trader Joe's cookies to kick in.

Amen.