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minutes

There are 525,600 minutes in a year.

The average life span is still right around 70 years.

That’s 36, 792,000 minutes in a lifetime.

clock

I have heard several times in the last 4 days that 2017 has gotten off to a bad start. It is generally a minute or two that hurt and injured or scared the person. The incident last briefly. The reaction echoes in their heart and head.

There is a song about how do we count the year, “Seasons of love”. It postulates that we can count in minutes, or experiences. Those experiences can be positive or negative. We can count in tears or laughter. We can count in blessings or curses.

The reality is that I count in curses much more often then blessings. I’m not an Eeyore person and tend to think of myself as a realist and not a pessimist. It was just recently that I was reviewing my life and decision. I had focused on each of my negative outcomes. I lamented and grieved over the loss and pain I had endured. I am not belittling it or making lite of it, it was horrendous. However, I wasnt looking at the simple blessings.

I have had an opportunity to learn to trust myself to respond more often then I react. The times I havent blasted someone for not being or doing like I want have been less then a minute long. Brief encounters that I pause and consider first. The ripples have allowed me to know that I can be expected to respond appropriately. That echoes in my head.

I have learned that I can love. I can feel loved and connect with another human being. I can give of myself, and receive from another. I journey with a partner, rather than pathological entanglement. The brief moment that I say the words, “I love you,” takes seconds. The heart echoes for a lifetime.

I learned that I can admit I dont know. I can also discern truth and facts. It takes minutes at most, but I can draw conclusions. I can even conclude that I need help understanding. The ability to learn and consider rebounds in my head.

I can ache, hurt, long, and cry. In those minutes of turmoil and pain, I feel it is a lifetime. It feels like forever. The clock ticks only to mock my pain. But I can feel. I am no longer cut off from emotions. In that moment of pain, I also know I can heal. My heart grows.

heart

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Posted by on January 5, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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Ever have one of those days that things just seem off somehow? I am having one of those days. I cant really figure out what it is, so I am unsure how to fix it. I am just letting myself be off center. I went to a charity function last night. It was an auction and another silent auction. I love these kind of things. I went stag and milled around for a long time. I watched people and looked at the items. I was offered 2 tickets to this and I thought about trying to find a date or someone to go with. However, I finally decided that I would rather not have to be in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar town with an unfamiliar person. It seemed wise. I figured I would just find people to chat with anyway. I didn’t think about most of the people would be there with someone else. There were a few of us singles there. We nodded to each other in a secret gang style way. I passed by and lifted my eyebrows subtly. She flashed a knowing smile. I almost tripped on her walker. She farted as she passed as 90 year olds sometimes do. I figured I would hang with the younger singles. we laughed and giggled over the tree decorated like frozen and the Superhero one. We delighted in the tree that had three trains circling it. She also smelt of fart, until her mom changed her.

The mistake I made was drinking coffee there. I was tired, but just couldn’t sleep well. I got up at my usual time and went to a Sat am meeting. It was a good one. It is raining here and a little cold. I went to the weekly car auction and then came home. I watched the end of a romantic comedy. I put on my jammies and did some housekeeping. Still, I felt off. I just wasn’t all here. I organized my CDs and some books. I wrote a letter to my estranged daughters and cried. I figured out what was wrong. I miss my girls. I am so mad at myself for making the mistake that led to the divorce. I am so mad at their mother who kept irritating the wound until it festered and injured and scarred. I am mad at them for rejecting me so dramatically. But all that anger is just a protective coating for the hurt I feel.

I am not sure how to link the farting ladies of the night and missing my daughters, but they are both rattling around in my head. I don’t know, maybe both smell like poop.

Think I will go to another meeting. You know what? It has been a real mellow and good day. I got to sleep in, move some of the poop tainted air out of my life, tend to some tasks, and hang out with myself and process my emotions. I am warm, I am safe, I am loved.

 
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Posted by on November 22, 2014 in journey, life

 

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icon spins

And the icon spins in my brain.

Ever feel like your brain and heart and soul are asked to spin like the waiting icon? Like there is just something loading up in the database of that part of your psyche? I have become conditioned to that icon and feel like time moves double quick. Every second stretches out into 2, it feels like hours when seconds have passed. I see the icon and I immediately become frustrated and impatient. My brain goes into thinking it is a race car at a starting line with a sluggish green light. I struggle to not worry about the future and dwell on the mistakes of the past. My brain creates stories and lies. My brain fantasizes about a better and worse past. It creates a slew of outcomes, both glorious and tragic. It creates stories that contradict. In the seconds that it spins, I am confused, lost, almost desperate for reality. My brain stumbles to regain balance.

And the icon spins in my heart.

My heart leaps at the feeling of intimacy and love. It craves to be recognized. It longs to be met with another heart. My heart wants to be held, and danced with, and loved. Not even the romantic love, but the love that endures. The love that disagrees and compromises. The love that can grow and learn, change and adapt. When I feel empty or lost, my heart longs even more. I seem unable to feel that from myself and God. It struggles to recognize self worth. It takes the small, insignificant events and exaggerates them. My heart takes the spinning icon to feel bad about its inability to fly free.

And the icon spins in my soul.

MY soul longs to be a child of God. I remind myself of platitudes through the day. I pray and meditate. I speak of the power and love of God. There have been times, I felt as though my soul strolled with God in the garden of my mind and heart. I could feel the nurturing and love. I have felt blessed, cared for, and in contact. There are also times that I cannot see or feel God at work. I search for Him, and end up doubting He exists. My soul aches to feel it again. It pauses. In the time it takes for the icon to spin, the clouds move in and it darkens.

And the icon stops.

I begin the process of restructuring my brain, heart, and soul. I have followed the steps illuminated from the darkness. I have talked to counselors, moved states, began a new career, made tough choices to love despite the pain. I have faced my insecurities and condemning self talk. I have stood back up and declared that I am in the minute, a child of Love, and a child of God. I have taken the next step in faith, stepping from the darkness into the darkness, knowing it would be light soon.

The icon will return, but I get better and better at understanding it is not evil, but inevitable. The icon is the time that life takes, and I can live in those moments as well. Waiting is not waste, but life. In those moments, I can stop the voices. I have begun to know that I am present, loved, and that I fly.

 
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Posted by on September 27, 2014 in faith, journey

 

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fighters

The fighters had met before. The are often at odds. They know they need each other, but just cant seem to agree on much. One fighter is clad in all gray. He is older and has wrinkles that seem to plunge into the depths. He is logical, calculating, predictable. However, he has no intuition, no emotion. He is antisocial and really is as likely to fight as run away.
The other fighter is dressed in loose red garments. The wind rustles the clothes and they seem to pulsate. His cheeks are always flushed. He is angry, or excited, or impassioned–no one really knows. When asked why he is flushed, he rarely has an answer. He is young and impulsive.
The fighters circle. The stare at each other. They remember the alternating times of partnership and adversaries. The smile at each other. They begin the battle. They fight, they push and shove, they bite and claw. They want nothing more than to be independent of each other. The battle wages for days. They collapse into each other, panting. They know they can never be totally separate and have come to realize they are never fully alive and real without each other. The one benefits the other. Together they are a whole.
The fighters were my head and heart. I have repeatedly tried to separate them. I tried to live by rational thought alone. I tried to protect my heart with logical and predictable thought. And while there is safety in knowledge, there is no passion. I also have tried to follow my heart, to feel the wide range of emotions. The risk is a broken heart. The flushing of pain.
I arranged the arena. I went to referee and let my head and heart battle. I want to be whole. I want to live connected with myself, my God, and my life. To do that, I need head and heart. My retreat had a secret agenda. I would let them fight to see the strengths of the other. I would let one explore the others’ being. I would let them grow to appreciate the fellowship of the other.
The fighters left: arm in arm.
2/21/12

 
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Posted by on January 3, 2014 in journey

 

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