M = Move

I took a class on writing from Annis at Art and Spirituality and she gave all of us in the class a one word prompt to write on with a time limit.  The prompt word was “move.”  I wrote about the many literal moves I have made and others were less literal and wrote about transitions, abstract concepts of moving, and it was extremely interesting to hear their takes on the word “Move.”  We so love and cherish differences and the input they offer our little mind!  The word move has been presented to us again, this time from a neighbor above us that wants us to literally move.  He left a note with the one word at our door.  We laughed.  What else can you do?  So this word has been on our mind a lot.

In a literal sense, to move is to put one foot in front of the other, or be subjected to the body’s involuntary propulsion constituting “moving.”  It is also to pick up your belongings, and transport them and yourself to another location.  This body moves constantly.  So does yours.  You breathe, don’t you?  Air in.  Air out.  Movement.  Your heart beats—movement.  And you better hope it keeps moving!  And then there are the kids and adults who have to keep the leg jiggling, that hand tapping, that constant movement that actually soothes them into inner quietness.

There is also that packing of belongings, taking yourself and all you own to a new place—new to you, anyway.  So you transport yourself and your belongings—you move.  But it is more than physical in the sense that when you move from one physical environment to another, you inwardly move also.  What you had on one wall in your former abode, you now have to place strategically on another wall in another place.  It’s importance and significance may also shift/move in your perception.  New ideas and decorations shift into the new place as you move.  You understand and accept these kinds of movement as natural affects and consequences in life.

Then there is another way to move.  I love to think of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., when I think of the movement he challenged us all to make.  He referred to inner movement towards higher thinking, acceptance, equality, and so many values that need to be a part of our daily lives.  We need to move toward open mindedness, which also includes allowing each person to move as rapidly—or as slowly—as they need to.  But he adds, they must keep moving.  

Movement is advancement.  It can be positive or negative.  It is within our power to choose and act.  Movement is powerful, either way.  We see it in our current world and the people who make decisions that affect us all.  We see it in the way we move toward one thing or another.

We are going to move.  That is a fact.  It is indisputable.  WE decide how fast, how slow, toward what and who, which ideas to advance or try to bury.  Thank you, Annis.  What a word!  Now what will we MOVE toward and to in our hearts and minds?

L = Like

“Like” can take different twists and turns when we say it.  For instance, I like to go to the ocean and listen to and watch the waves.  Or you can be a “valley girl,” and like you know, like to go to the, like you know, the ocean.  There is also the word like when you refer to something being like something else.  No wonder the English language is one of the most difficult to learn for non-English native speakers!  So let’s have some fun…

Jane had always hated brussel sprouts, but at one point, she forced herself to eat them to impress a certain person who liked them.  She stated, “I like brussel sprouts now because my tastes have matured.”  (gag!  choke…)  When those who know Jane, really like KNOW her, question her further, she admits it is a lie and she does NOT like brussel sprouts.  So one of the people that know her, like really know her, says, “I don’t understand why you don’t like brussel sprouts!  Really Jane! Like they taste so good!  Like I would have them every day of the week, you know?”  Jane whirls on the speaker and says through clenched teeth, “They taste like baby cabbages and I hate baby cabbages, grown cabbages, like all cabbage!”  The speaker backs away from Jane’s verbal attack, like way, way back.

Get it?  Like do you see how like can be used like for anything you like want to say?  It’s as blah a word as “nice,” and you don’t want me to get started on that, because I could like go on forever about “nice” and “like” and drive you, the reader up the walls and like—well, you know, like me, too!  And you would not like that, nor would I!

To end on a positive note, though, I do like:

puppy breath

sunrises

concertos

peace songs

reading

nature like the ocean and the forests

And why?  Because these things are like a natural high to me that wash over me, into me and make me feel like life is good when I am surrounded with—well, like, you know…

k = “k?”

Have you ever noticed how lazy we are in speech?  We cut the endings off words, the beginnings off words, and rarely does anyone seem to notice.  We literally teach our kids to abbreviate words.  No one says, “Pardon me?” anymore when they need to hear something again or need further explanation—it’s simply, “huh?”  And since my letter for the night is “k”, I decided to expound on how it plays in our everyday speech.

When I taught English composition to college students, one of my hardest tasks was to get them to write an actual formal essay without texting it to me.  Sure, it was on paper, but in the middle of the essay, I would read, “…so u no what  happened b4 and after…” as they hurried to finish the essay assigned.  I would point out that “u” should be spelled out as “you” and receive puzzled looks and complaints that I was being too picky about the writing.  I, in turn, blamed their sloppy abbreviating on the overuse of texting and emails that encouraged this type of writing, but still insisted that a future employer would not be particularly happy reading “u no” on a resume.  They, the students, would grumble and complain, but generally could understand the importance of spelling out actual words to impress.  And then we would discuss how we butcher the language we use every day.  The class would always become fun.

One example that repeatedly was used was the use of “k” for “okay,” which in turn, substitutes for “all right.”  It became fun when I would ask them to write like they speak on our classroom whiteboard.  A brave soul would come up and write, “How are you?” and usually get laughed at with comments like, “get real, sucker!”  So the brave soul would get a shrug from me and erase the original question and write, “How ya doin?” and see approval from classmates and myself and then proceed to write the answer, “k.”  We would go on with other examples, such as, “whasup?” and some of their favorite greetings.  But always, “K” was considered an appropriate answer in nearly every situation.  So I spent more time listening to them and their conversations and to others outside the classroom.

I stopped in at McDonald’s (error in judgment) and a non-English speaker was trying to order.  Seeing his frustration, and knowing very, very few words in Spanish, I tried to help.  Between the two of us, he was able to place his order and I gave him a thumbs up and a smile and his response?  A huge grin and a verbal “K!”  He didn’t know how to speak English but he knew “K” would work!  To let you know, I will tell you we stayed with him to make sure he got his order, asked him if it was “okay” and again, he nodded, grinned, and said, “K!”  

Later that same day, I got a text message from a friend asking me if I would be in her neighborhood, if I could pick up something she needed and bring it to her.  Without thinking, I texted back, “k.”  AAAAAARGH!  The very thing I was griping about I was doing!

“How are things going?”    “K.”

“Ya got it now?”  “K.”

“Can you do this?”  “K.”

“How are you feeling?”  “K.”

So do I still do this, realizing the trap of laziness I have fallen into?  Yeppers!  All the time.  I am asked a question verbally and I respond most times with “k” if the answer is in the affirmative.  Is it a lack of vocabulary on my part?  No, because when I choose to do so, I can use large words (50 cent words) at will.  But when in friendly conversation?  Lazy.  Lazy.  Lazy!  Can I grab that door to keep it from slamming into my buddy?  K.

Do I think I need to shut this laptop down now for the night and get some sleep after dragging my reader through another whimsical adventure of my making?  k.

Good night, k?

J = just

There is more than one way to say the word Just.  We hear a lot of people use the word to say that we need to be just in our actions towards others, toward moral issues, all sorts of current events.  But the one use of the word that always tends to amuse me is when people use it as an explanation or excuse.  Kids seem to be able to use it quite adeptly from a very young age.  Example—

Adult to child:  “Why did you smear mud all over your baby sister?”

Child: “ I just wanted to wipe my hands off and there she was.”

Adult to child:  “Why did you put my hair dryer in the toilet along with all the brushes and combs?”

Child:  “Because if kids in China are hungry, I just figured they needed a hair dryer and brushes and combs, too, and I’m not supposed to dig holes in the back yard to get it to them.”

Adult to child:  “Why did you hit your brother in the nose?”

Child:  “I didn’t.  I just put my fist out and he ran into it.”

I know you have numerous other examples you could offer from experience — both yours or others.  They “just” crop up like little weeds in your otherwise ideal life, right?  And we laugh, trying not to laugh in front of the young offender, and then try to undo the faulty logic.  Then we turn right around and do it ourselves on an “adult” level.

Boss to employee:  “Why did you write a 30 page proposal when a one page synopsis would have sufficed?”

Employee: “I just wanted you to be aware of every detail…”

One spouse to another: “Why did you buy such an expensive gift when you know we don’t have the money to?”

Other spouse: “I just wanted us to make a real impression, ya know?”

Adult to adult: “Why, WHY did you tell that dumb, stupid joke to___?”

Adult in response: “I just  thought it was funny at the time?”

     “AAAARGH!”

We’ve all been there, all done it, and if you haven't yet, you will.  “Just.”    “I just thought…”    “I just meant…”    “I just tried…”     But the real, honest truth killer?  “I JUST ASSUMED…”   UH-OH!  DOUBLE WHAMMY!

Yep, we are born with the ability to use “just” to cover, hide, excuse, and try to get us out of tight situations.  I find it hilarious.  Having raised kids, I really thought I had a great list of “justs.”  But I realized there are an infinite number of justs when I taught students that weren’t happy with their grades, homework load, etc.  That’s a whole ‘nother blog!  (chuckle chuckle)  

The reason for writing this one, now?  I just thought it might amuse you.  Besides, I have to admit—I just did it for fun!

I = Images

What do you see when you close your eyes?  First, I see brilliant colors that seem trapped beneath my closed eyelids.  Then, if I let my mind take over, I can see what I want, or sometimes don’t want.  But what I see are images—pictures without words.  Oh, what emotions those images evoke!

Media and marketing know the power of images.  If you start to notice what Images you are being exposed to, you begin to realize the power behind them.  We should think about the emotional responses we have to certain images.  Here I will share some of the images that I see that still elicit vivid responses no matter how many times I see them.

Most recently, I see the image of the young girl with the shaved head, tears rolling down her face, eyes haunted, as she stands behind a podium in total silence—mourning the loss of friends murdered by an assassin at her school.  In looking at her, my heart aches for her, for her pain, her frustration and yes, anger, that the murderer could cause such devastation to so many lives in so short a time because he was able to use a weapon of war on peaceful people.  I don’t need to read her words, the image of her is imprinted on my mind with great emotion.

I scroll through the internet social media and I see an animal slaughtered or cruelly tortured and my heart breaks.  I rail against the injustice done to one who cannot defend itself and was so hatefully abused for simply existing.  The image is one I cannot shake from my mind and I cry tears of sheer pain as I look into eyes of the animal who doesn’t understand why and is ever so afraid and beaten down.

I see a child sitting in rubble of what was once her home.  She is alone, scared, hungry, and imprinted on my mind as I fear for her and the horrors of wars that seem to never end for her.  Again, I cry from the depths of my soul for her.  But I cannot block the image of her, squatting in the rubble, from my mind.

These images remain in my mind and tear into my heart.  And the media and marketers know this.  If giving money will help, I give.  It doesn’t take away the images but it motivates me to act—however I can—to try to change the images of horror I see.  And keep seeing over and over.

But there are good images, also.  I see a friend’s genuine smile of pleasure as they relate a tale of good fortune, or love, or just the joy of being alive.  When I feel down, I think of the smile, and the beautiful person behind it.  Or their face in laughter—ah what a wonderful image!  I feel goodness and love emanating from the image of them laughing so freely!

Images are so important.  They color our day, our work, our play, our lives.  If I look at laughing children, my face will smile whether I bid it to do so or not.  My heart lifts.  If I sit at a concert and see/watch people playing instruments that are otherwise lifeless and the rapture on their faces as the instrument sings for them, under their touch, my heart soars and they and the instrument they play become alive and make my heart rise with the notes.  An image of a person seated at a piano, a drummer beating the drums with surety and love, yes love, lift me.  I can feel their passion for the music!

I can see specific images from movies I love to watch and cry, swoon, laugh, or shrink in fear.  I remember seeing an old movie with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing and the image still causes me to take a deep breath and very nearly hold it as I am amazed at their grace, their smoothness, the beauty of them dancing across a stage or floor.

Images.  Sources of pain.  Sources of light and hope.  I found that when I am terrified, I can seek an image of the ocean and it helps me become grounded again.  From the silent lapping of the waves creeping toward my feet on the sand to the vastness of it as I look toward the horizon.  From the marks left on rocks by high tide, to the waves bashing against rocks and pylons, spraying foam and water everywhere with great, fantastic force.  Others will recreate images of forests and sheltering trees to calm their spirits and become grounded.  Or maybe the vastness of the desert.  But the image they see is the one they need.

Our images can change, but I don’t believe any are ever erased or completely wiped out.  Images of love, horror, safety, terror—they are there to present themselves as needed.  Some will come as reminders and warnings.  Some will come to motivate us, inspire us to act.  Some will fill an empty grieving place in our hearts.

Images without words fill, complete, inspire, comfort us.  Some images should always be before us so we can try to change the future, correct the past, build and thrive.  Images have as much power as we give them.  Reflect on your images.  Use them.  More, though, be aware of which ones you most often notice, why, and what you think of them. 

Sweet dreams.

Does Hope = Happy?

People say they want to be happy.  They often say they hope they can be happy.  Are they saying “hope” and “happy” are synonymous?  Hmmm…I wonder.  Let’s look at a few examples.

We just got through the worst of the flu season.  The most awful truth was, does your kiddo have a bad cold or the deadly flu?  No, you are not happy as you wonder what to do.  So you visit the pediatrician, or maybe an urgent care, hoping it is just a really bad cold.  Yes, if it is, you will be ever so happy to be labeled an overprotective parent, knowing the child will recover as all kids do from a bad cold.  So you “hope” you will be “happy” with the end result.  Sort of synonymous, isn’t it?  Well, let’s go on.

You have a trip to make from Bakersfield to say, San Jose.  The car has been making a funny sound off and on, nothing you can identify, so you “hope” it will make the miles needed so you can be “happy” with the results and enjoy your trip.  But—is “hope” going to get you there?  Shouldn’t you check it out before you leave?  Should you just “hope” you get there without incident or know what the problem is?  If you are traveling alone, you should probably check it out first, right?  Okay.  Inner argument over, you get the car checked out, find out what needs to be done or doesn’t, and you leave for San Jose—“happy.”

On a lighter note, let me give you an example of a friend who could be happy, truly happy, from buying a lottery ticket on Thursday morning and hoping her numbers would be a winner during the weekend drawing.  Oh, how she hoped to win the lottery!  Her spirits would lift, she would smile, she had positive words for everyone—one happy camper!  It was fun to be around her and if you needed a lift in spirit, she was your go-to person—after she bought the lottery ticket Thursday morning.  Then they would draw the winning numbers on the weekend.  She would sit glued to the televised drawing, nearly salivating with anticipation.  It was HER MOMENT OF HOPE AND HAPPY!  If the first couple of numbers matched hers, the room was literally filled with the energy of hope and happy.  But every time, there would be a number pulled that meant she hadn't won.  Then the room would have the positive energy sucked out of it, her smile would fade, her eyes become dull, and the ticket bent to the shape of her fingers as she clutched it would silently drop to the floor, landing soundlessly.  I would make inane remarks like, “Wow!  That was close!  You were so close!  How exciting!  Maybe next time, huh?  Say, how about we go grab some tacos or whatever?”  I would watch her get up like a zombie, hear her mumble she was tired and going to bed, and watch her shuffle, literally, toward her bedroom.  And I would quietly let myself out her back door, making sure the door was locked behind me.

It never did become something that didn’t cause me to hope with her and for her, but her happiness depended on the numbers on a piece of paper.  And her hope was that they would make her happy.  I think I hoped she would win so she would be happy more than Thursday through the lottery draw on the weekend.  Ah—the tenuousness of hope linked with happy.

So is it hope that makes us happy?  Or is it hope that keeps us going until we reach happy?  Or again, are they synonymous?  I, personally, do not think they are synonymous but I think as long as we maintain some hold on hope, our chances are better to find happy.  Another question I have to ask is do I want to be happy?  I don’t think so.  To me, happy is a fleeting feeling, here now, gone now.  But peace, calm, self assurance, a love for others and empathy—those last day and night. Weeks.  Months.  Years.  Yes, they will vary in degrees of attainment, but they are not dependent on what numbers are read, what outside events occur.  They are there after a crisis, a sudden success, a day at work, a loving hug. 

No, I do not hope for happy.  I hope for the love, peace, calm, compassion I can share and receive.  Ironically, that makes me happy.  How about you?

G = Good Grief!

Ever feel like Charlie Brown?  No matter how hard you try, there’s a Lucy to remind you of your shortcomings?  Someone you try to talk to that charges you a nickel, again Lucy, to listen to you and tell you you might as well accept you’re a loser?  We smile at poor Charlie Brown and wince when Lucy snatches away the football as he is ready to really kick it this time—surprised—again.  Well, after a while, we echo Lucy in saying, “Good Grief!” as we commiserate with poor Charlie Brown.  Or is it Charlie Brown who wails out “Good Grief!” time and time again?  No matter.  This blog is written simply to list sayings that can help counter the Good Grief syndrome.  Here are our favorites:

“If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.”  David Carradine

“Forever is composed of nows.”  Emily Dickinson

“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.  For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it.  For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.”  Ivan Panin

“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”  Pericles

“Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“We do not see nature with our eyes, but with our understandings and our hearts.”  William Hazlitt

“There are many paths to enlightenment.  Be sure to take one with a heart.”  Lao Tzu

“We cannot hold a torch to light another’s path without brightening our own.”  Ben Sweatband

“Be an explorer.  The universe is filled with wonder and magical things.”  Flavia

“Act as if what you do makes a difference.  It does.”  William James

“Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.”  Dorothy Thompson

“What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?”  George Eliot

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”  Anais Nin

 Like those?  We do.  They often keep us going.  But we will conclude with our favorite and the one we turn to most often by Carl Jung—

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart.”

Think about it… good night.  Sweet dreams.