D is for DUH…

Gotta love that word—DUH.  It says so much!  It emotes!  Sarcasm—fun—disdain—anything a person wants!  What an absolutely GREAT word!

I love seeing the word in comments on Facebook and Twitter.  I love seeing the facial expressions that come with the word in one-on-one and personal conversations.  They can be hilarious or completely devastating, depending on the conversation and those involved.  The body language is obvious with the utterance of that one little word—duh.

A few personal examples are in order here to see how this small word  operates on both the one using it and the recipient of same.  Just today, I was learning the lingo necessary to manipulate my computer to make it work for me and not have me ready to destroy it violently.  My mentor was trying to explain the different avenues of using the computer with mastery rather than me being its slave and suddenly, I realized it was computer language I did not grasp.  Well, duh!  My embarrassment at my ignorance was much easier to tolerate with a “duh” than even a shake of the head at me and it became a point to enjoy with laughter and camaraderie.  With the dawning or breaking of light into my density with a “duh” I could move on.  And laugh and enjoy it.

Another instance that struck me as the perfect insertion of “duh” was when I read a post on Facebook where people were beginning to realize that the new federal budget wasn’t really benefitting them but rather the upper wealthy and elite corporations.  “Duh!”  You could hear the sarcasm in that tiny written word as a comment.

I have heard and seen that word say so much.  Two kids are arguing over who gets “the bigger half” of the candy bar while a third tells them if they split it in half, both pieces are equal and then proceeds to divide it in half.    The two arguing examine the pieces and say, “Wow!  The pieces are the same size!”  The third simply looks at them and says, “Duh.”  Uh-oh.  Ouch that hurt!

Want to end a debate?  Have someone make their point as you realize you didn’t do all your research nor have all the facts and hear that awful—duh—as you have to concede to being outdone.  Hmmm.  Again, ouch.

Or on a much more serious note, it has been one rough day, week, month.  Nothing has gone right, no one cares, you are so far in your own darkness you can’t even find shadows of light, but a friend says, “I still care no matter what,” and sits there, just loving you without reason, or explanation needed.  You say no one cares or loves you.  You look at them and to yourself, you say—duh.  Here beside you is love and caring in that true friend.

DUH is a teaching word.  Hearing it, you take away what you need to learn.  It can embarrass you into acknowledgment.  It can push you into seeing things unseen before.  It can offer warmth and acceptance.  And most importantly, it can foster both enlightenment and love.  Use your duhs wisely.  Remember, it is a powerful little word.  

Got that?  Duh…

C is for COURAGE

Courage is a word that stirs up many thoughts in a person.  If you ask a six year old to describe courage, for instance, you may hear a tale of a Jedi going into battle to conquer the evil ones out there in the universe.  They will describe light saber battles and hand to hand combat and give you a blow by blow of the courage of her/his hero.  If you ask a thirteen year old about courage, you may hear how someone faced off against someone else at school, or in the park, stood their ground and beat the enemy to a pulp.  Naturally the hero of the day.  Ask a teen just out of high school about courage and it may be that a little drag race on a back road for pink slips shows real courage and the winner holds the title to a new car.  Then life slips in with its realities.

A college student will sometimes describe courage as the ability to get up before the class and do a presentation or give a speech.  Or to take a class that is particularly hard for them and pass it.  By the same token, another will find it courageous to interview for a prospective employer that they feel could make or break their future.  Or maybe they are deciding whether or not to get married and make a commitment to another being.  

COURAGE DEPENDS ON WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU FACE.

To me, courage definitely comes from within.  It is not bravery and should not be misconstrued as the same thing.  “Courage” is a very wonderful friend I have who faces pain from cancer ravaging her body everyday and still feeds the feral cats dumped off on her street, calls to see how others are doing, and smiles with sincere pleasure at seeing her friends and being with them.  Yes, that is COURAGE.

Courage is another very dear friend we have who is empathic and takes on the pain of others and tries to emit positive energy as well as kind words and deeds to help anyone who hurts.  The other night I thanked her for sending positive healing energy and she said, “I felt many needed rest so I just sent it out everywhere to everyone.”  Courage to feel with others, that is special.  To share your love without reservation to help those around you who need some kindness without hesitating—that’s COURAGE.

Let me share an example of courage I often see and admire.  A group of friends, co-workers, or people simply congregating will start talking about someone else, or see someone who is “different” in some way and make a snide remark or degrading comment about the person.  Courage is not joining in.  Not laughing at a cruel joke, not adding to the degradation of another, refusing to be mean so you don’t become the one that’s different—that’s COURAGE.  I have seen peers, the kind-hearted, sages, people you would never consider brave or courageous, refuse to taunt or tease another being, holding true to what they feel to be right.  Their refusal to participate takes courage since they may be turned on at any moment simply from not joining in.

Courage is stopping and seeing those in need and supporting them.  Courage is sharing whatever you have to relieve the pain for others in some small way.  Courage is stopping to pick up a stray animal from a roadside when the others in the car are asking, “Are you crazy?”  Courage is holding the hand of someone who is terrified to fly in a plane sitting next to you.  Courage.

The list could go on and on—letting the tears fall unashamedly when someone you love hurts or a human or animal is the victim of abuse.  Standing by a friend when no one else will.  Fighting to get past your own pain to help another.  Asking for forgiveness when you know you’ve done wrong.  Asking for help when you know pride is all that is holding you back.  Saying, “I am here for you,” and meaning it.  Saying, “I love you” and showing it.

Courage is standing up for your values, your beliefs, your dreams—whether they are popular or not.  And for those you care for, whether they are popular or not.  Look at the courage displayed through the #me too movement.  Look at the people uniting against hate with courage.  Look around.  Courage abounds even as threats are made and consequences are seen for those such as the DREAMERS.

Courage comes from within.  Courage does not come from sheep who follow blindly, unthinkingly.  Courage comes from within your soul, your convictions, your utmost self.  We each have it,  we just need to recognize it.  Then we use it for good—for love—for peace.

DARE TO BE COURAGEOUS

B for Bonnie

B is for Bonnie

Bonnie—ah, Bonnie!  Let me tell you about my dear Bonnie!

Bonnie is a wonderful, caring person of 16 years of age with the wisdom of the ages in mothering, nurturing, compassion and caring for everyone.  At her tender age, she has helped more children, teens, and adults than just about anyone I know.  And she always, always does it with love.  Allow me to relate some examples of her tender spirit.

Bonnie at one time was in charge of some precocious children that no one else wanted to have anything to do with.  One little boy, about age 6, was particularly trying to even her gentle soul.  He would listen to older ones around him and mimic them, but not in a very acceptable way for a six year old.  For instance, the older kids would swear and without realizing what he was saying, but knowing it got a reaction, he would swear like they would.  Bonnie tried to show him that he was saying words he didn’t even know the meaning of but it seemed to only foster his saying them more to show her he could.  He truly didn't seem to care what the words meant, only that they received an instantaneous reaction when he said them—and especially around her.  Now Bonnie worked on this for quite awhile, to no avail, and then went to the older kids and asked them not to use such language around the little boy and they agreed, but, as often happens, they quickly reverted back to their habit of swearing and so did the little boy.  She then tried “time outs” and stopping him from being around them so much and that maneuver also failed.  Finally, when she and the little boy had reached what seemed a true impasse, he asked her, “Why can they say what they want and I can’t?”  Her exasperated response was, “Because they are older!”  She had long ago given up on reasoning with him.  He in turn demanded, “Then how old do I have to be to say shit!”  Quickly, she said, “Twelve!  You have to be twelve!”  They stood facing off, then he said, “Honest truth?  I can say shit and all the rest like—“ and Bonnie reached out and covered his mouth, saying “Yes.  Honest truth.  You can say whatever you want when you are twelve.”  He grinned from ear to ear and said, “Okay.  Got it.  Thanks!” and so ended one little boy’s foul mouthed language.  He would stop, catch himself, and did not swear again.  When she told me, I laughed and laughed and so did she as she said, “Who would have believed it could be so easy!  Now all I have to do is figure out what I’ll say when he’s twelve!” and she kept laughing.  I asked her, “Didn’t you want to just pop him one once in awhile?  I mean, really?”

She looked shocked and said, “Do what?  No!  Never!  Why would I?  That wouldn’t have solved the problem, only made it worse!  You don’t hit a little child you love to change their behavior!  No, I never wanted to pop him!  I love him!”  That’s my Bonnie!

Another incident that shows Bonnie’s love and compassion was when I was so very angry at being accused of something I had not done and was vowing to expose the accuser as a liar and cheat to everyone.  I wanted revenge!  Bonnie listened to me rant and rave and finally, feeling spent, I stopped and looked at her and saw she was actually crying.  I felt immediate concern and asked, “Bonnie, what is wrong?  Are you all right?”  She nodded and answered, “You are so miserable and so angry!  I just hate to see you hurting so much!”  I immediately flared up again, saying angrily, “It’s the one I’m going to teach a lesson to you ought to be crying for because they are going to be sorry!  Really sorry!”  Again, she nodded and said, “I am.”  Shocked, I looked at her in disbelief.  “Bonnie!  This person deserves to have a dose of their own medicine!  Look at how she treats not just me, but everyone that gets in her way or won’t back away from her!”  Bonnie softly said, “I know.  She must be so afraid and hurt so bad to treat people like she does.  She must feel everyone hates her and be so lonely!  And if you expose her, what will she have then?  Don’t you see how sad that is?  Wouldn’t you want another chance if you were her?  Everyone deserves more than one chance, don’t you think?”  Even in my anger, I knew Bonnie was right.  I tried by countering, “But look at how many people she destroys and goes right on as if they deserve it when they have done nothing wrong except not acquiesce to her wishes!”  Bonnie looked sad and stated, “I know.  Isn’t it sad?  But do you have to be the one to destroy her, once and for all?  I wonder what would happen if someone showed her some sincere kindness?  Plus, it hurts me to see your anger hurting you so bad.  Dumb, huh?  I guess I just can’t intentionally hurt someone, even if I know something or someone should, like you say, teach them a lesson.  Do you have to do this? “  I knew Bonnie loved me enough to ask not to let the anger turn me into someone I wouldn’t like as myself.  I hugged her, sighed, and said, “You’re right.  Someone else will either take care of her or love her out of herself—impossible as it may be.  I promise, I won’t.  Thanks, dear one!”  She smiled and said softly, “No, thank you.”

One last example I would like to share has to do with Bonnie and some of her teen peers.  Some of the guys were rather self-centered and being rude toward the girls, and trying to prove they were “Men” and they would ask Bonnie to make them certain things to eat, or do things like laundry for them, etc.  It seemed they had more important things to do and obviously, to them anyway, she didn’t so they would impose on her.  Well, Bonnie has a sense of humor, too, and even though she will give chance after chance, and spreads love like butter on bread to be treasured, she will call people on stuff in rather humorous ways.  One of the guys asked if she would wash his clothes.  She said no, but she’d show him how to do it.  He said he didn’t really have time for that and she walked away.  When he realized he was left standing with dirty laundry and she was totally walking away, he followed and agreed to learn if she’d teach him.  He wasn’t as serious as he pretended to be and didn’t pay much attention.  Consequently, he later came to her, complaining about his pink underwear and socks and wanting to know why she hadn't warned him.  Bonnie smiled and said, “Did you separate the clothes like I told you before you threw them in the washer?’ He quickly nodded and said, “Of course I did!”  She went on asking questions and he had a smart reply for each until she asked, “So how many loads did you actually wash?”  Suddenly, he had no answer.  She repeated the question and the other guys around him began to snicker.  She turned to one of them and said, “Okay—how many did he do?  Two?  Three?”  They quit their snorking and looked away.  Then Bonnie laughed and said, “Gotcha!  I’m betting you only did one load and it had that new red sweatshirt in it, didn’t it?”  Suddenly it was quiet and two of the guys inched toward the door.  “Where are you going?” she demanded.  They stopped dead.  “You see, I figure that since you were all in on this, you all owe me dinner.”  Immediately they started to tell her why they could not help her out for a change but she shook her head, smiled and said, “I’d really like something different to eat this evening.  See you guys later.  About 6?”  And Bonnie got dinner at 6 that evening—from Sonic because they don’t know how to cook,  but she says she’ll teach them.

Everyone that knows Bonnie loves her and she loves everyone she knows and even people she doesn’t know.  She is compassion and chances to show compassion personified.  Someday maybe you’ll meet her.  I promise, you will feel love and acceptance when you do.  Bonnie. Ah, Bonnie!

A is for Age

A is for AGE

Age is referred to in so many different ways.  There is a chronological age, a mental age, an emotional age, a spiritual age…and the list can go on and on depending on who decides to set it up and for what purpose.

I remember being seven years old and hating it.  I was not old enough to play with the big kids and was too old to play with what I considered the babies—aged 6 and younger.  So as I progressed from age seven to eight, when asked how old I was I would reply that I was 7 and 1/4 years old, or later 7 and 1/2 years old.  Then I became 7 years and 7 months old and so on until I reached the glorious age of 8 years old and found out the ones I so wanted to hang out with had also gotten a year older and still didn’t want me following them around or joining them.  Ah, the pain…

Then life moved from being measured less on chronological age and into mental age and prowess.  By fifth grade, I was reading on a high school sophomore level—at least 15 years old.  That made me mature.  Really?  What else is a loner going to do besides escape in the beautiful world of reading where there are friends and adventures and the universe to be a part of?  So mentally, I was much older than my chronological age.  Whoopee!  Now I was a real loner!

My emotional age was less because my “people circle” was limited.  I was deemed emotionally underaged because I couldn’t seem to get past the beliefs I held in magic, a kinder and more loving world, and the fairness that would be had by all, regardless of skin color, education, sex, economic status, and such things as that.  I also hadn’t matured past seeing things in black and white, right and wrong, fair and unfair.  I delusionally held to the ideas of equality and goodness of hearts.  I thought bad should be punished and good rewarded.  Yes, definitely emotionally immature for my chronological age.  I don’t think I’ve gotten over that hurdle yet, honest truth.  I still believe in goodness, kind hearts, magical miracles such as a night passing and the sun rising to bring a whole new day of possibilities.  I feel animals’ souls, human souls, a desire to right wrongs and anger at injustice and intolerance toward other hearts.  I’ve been told to “Grow up!” and I guess I’m still stuck.  I have to admit, looking around, I’ll take being  immature enough to live my way.

By spiritual standards, I have been called “an old soul.”  I haven’t figured out why I would be called “an old soul” and thus older spiritually anymore than why I am deemed emotionally immature.  Is it because I feel connected to everything around me?  What I deem a sort of magic?  I feel others’ pain, joy, frustration, fears.  Deeply and emphatically.  I see what could be for the person, myself, and I strive to make it a reality.  My soul reaches out to other souls.  Does empathy make one spiritually older?  Who knows?  I don’t.

My inner workings have no age of any kind.  The body is in its 60s.  The inside essence is whatever age fits the situation.  I can observe an ant moving around for a long, long time.  I can watch the waves roll in, crash, creep silently onto the sand and pull back and feel every bit of it with my whole being.  The ocean speaks to me, the sand comforts my physical body, and my heart opens agelessly and with hope as my little dog licks my face in love.

Age.  How old are you?  But more, by whose standards are you a specific age defined?  Do others tell you to “grow up” or chide you as not being “realistic” about things?  Age doesn’t mean growing up.  Age doesn't require cynicism.  Age is imposed on us, all of us.  Maybe we should all be like Peter Pan—and say, “I won’t grow up!”  Just think of the fun ahead! 

BE AGELESS