tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54092241993699124842024-02-07T16:10:49.789-06:00just this one little thingSometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think there are no little things.
~Bruce Bartonterrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-61643117862866864092013-08-24T12:33:00.008-05:002013-08-26T14:04:52.903-05:00circles<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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passing through circles <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of weddings and aging and death<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i can’t tell where this one ends and <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
this one begins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i see my son, my baby<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
reaching out to his lovely one<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and grasping a hand that is not mine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and i decide that i love her too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i see my mother<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
reaching out to memory<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and grasping things from long ago<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and i decide that she’s wiser than me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i see my brother<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
reaching out to god<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and grasping for something beyond this world<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and i decide to someday ask the way<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and follow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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these circles cross paths <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in ways i cannot comprehend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i reach out for something less dizzying<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and grasp for something more linear<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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then decide to walk the intersections<o:p></o:p></div>
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as best I can.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-32998285112134673742013-08-23T20:03:00.002-05:002013-08-23T20:24:08.438-05:00just before jimmy diedjust before jimmy died<br />
his breathing was only<br />
a habit-<br />
his last addiction.<br />
<br />
i whispered into his ear<br />
"it's ok"<br />
and i think i believed it.<br />
<br />
i gasped in air with him<br />
until the air stood still.<br />
<br />
the moon that night was full and generous-<br />
a quiet friend to keep us company<br />
as we remembered.<br />
<br />
i'm remembering now:<br />
the heat rising from his body-<br />
the way the color slipped away with his life-<br />
the way he listened to my voice<br />
from somewhere far away.<br />
<br />
i told him where to turn<br />
and he did not hesitate.<br />
<br />
i wonder who will draw a map for me<br />
to lead me away from my last breath?<br />
<br />
i hope they know more than me.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-57362168651028846722013-04-21T21:40:00.000-05:002013-04-21T21:40:10.901-05:00waking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWgz1nOm13oMOyqzBYT3sH-h1h8QJDkxaQVQG9GGLIJR3F_QFL4EUjihLMY7kMalxK_zygweJEsLGHB7v-ZsB0i5JDjlpL0hvCUfWEGkvYDPS1iEzYMKQQ_VYB_AOQPvSEJN-4UpTqfc/s1600/IMG_2139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWgz1nOm13oMOyqzBYT3sH-h1h8QJDkxaQVQG9GGLIJR3F_QFL4EUjihLMY7kMalxK_zygweJEsLGHB7v-ZsB0i5JDjlpL0hvCUfWEGkvYDPS1iEzYMKQQ_VYB_AOQPvSEJN-4UpTqfc/s400/IMG_2139.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A couple of weeks ago I started dipping my toes into art and it's a feverish need in me now. It's a rampage in my lungs and a shouting in my whole body. It's seeping out of my pores and dancing out of my fingertips. The silence and waiting have given way to a riot of color and form and words like a flood washing away my old life. All my secrets are playing with the instrument of my heart.<br />
<br />
I don't have time to wash my hands before the next image begins to force it's way into the light.<br />
<br />
What did I do with my life before now? I can't remember the time when fear left my paint and brushes sitting quietly collecting dust and regret.<br />
<br />
This is good.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-77127476657616344432013-04-13T15:42:00.001-05:002013-04-22T13:31:19.651-05:00of snow and guests and art <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The birds are chattering outside. I think I heard one of them say, "What the hell? What's with all the snow?" Poor darlings. I can relate.<br />
<br />
Although I'm not nearly as bitter and angry as I would normally be after a snow storm in April. I've had a string of house guests from all over the country lately. First <a href="http://sarahwinfrey.com/" target="_blank">Sarah</a> came for a visit from Colorado. Then <a href="http://jessicakelley.com/" target="_blank">Jess</a> came from Georgia. And this week I've shared my space with <a href="http://www.stillforming.com/" target="_blank">Christianne</a> from Florida. They shared their shining hearts with me and I'm feeling all glowy and warm. How lucky am I?<br />
<br />
It's the great irony in my life that I've connected so deeply with people over the internet, which I generally regard as one of the shallowest mediums ever created. How is it possible to find sisters and kindred spirits via electronic signals? Weird. But I'm very grateful. I'll say this once and you'll just have to trust me that it's real. I thank God for the internet.<br />
<br />
I'm art journaling these days, and I composed this poem out of cut-out phrases from a magazine. When I'm surrounded by art supplies I feel like the world is all well and good. Or maybe the world isn't well and good but I'm well and good tucked inside of it. Anything is possible. Beauty is waiting to bust out of my fingers. God's breath is tickling the back of my neck. I'm listening to the sounds of my heart.<br />
<br />
Spring is coming even when all I see is the whiteness of a winter that refuses to let go. This is true.<br />
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<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-12417166454088176772013-03-07T17:40:00.000-06:002013-03-07T17:40:08.626-06:00where the story leads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I know I've been absent lately. So absent. If it makes you feel any better, I've been ignoring me and especially ignoring God too. So you're in good company.<br />
<br />
A while back a friend of mine did the bravest thing I've ever witnessed. She sat down with her closest friends and pulled out pictures and stories and documents to share her life story with us. It was astounding. Although I'm a counselor, I don't know if I've ever seen someone share her life with such naked honesty and vulnerability. She was responding to something God was calling her to do, and I was among a very few who was called to bear witness. It undid me.<br />
<br />
Her story touched a nerve somewhere deep in me, in places I don't like to visit. There was something familiar there. Something terrible and frightening. Something that made me feel angry and knife-edged scared. I knew she was going to share with us and I made a commitment to myself to be present while the words and images flowed over me. I stayed with her story even when it caught in my throat and made me feel like I was drowning. I listened even when something in me screamed to run away.<br />
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I'm still listening. I can't get the sounds out of my head.<br />
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And I feel grateful.<br />
<br />
I'm not angry or resentful that I'm carrying her story around with me now. I love her for trusting me with it. It's something I take very seriously, this bearing witness business. But it's not a passive thing. It takes strength and courage and a willingness to go where the story leads you. I haven't done that very well. I've been afraid to go where this story is leading me.<br />
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I traveled far away to the cabin where I get my best work and thinking done. I'm here alone listening to the sounds that are pounding away in my head. I don't expect to get very far. I'm not naive about these things anymore. My story has been unraveling for many years, and it never unfurls easily. It's like a flag that was rolled up wet and thrown out in the snow. If you try to to open the folds before it's thawed, it will only damage the fabric. So I've come to a bitterly cold place on a frozen lake to thaw out a bit. God knows a thing or two about irony.<br />
<br />
The breath of the Spirit is so warm. I can feel the droplets of grief pooling around my heart.<br />
<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-21280461981746409642013-02-06T16:36:00.002-06:002013-02-06T16:36:51.878-06:00snoozing in warm arms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's as though some bored demon came upon my post last week and said, "Oh yeah? Let's see how that whole contentment thing works out for her when I really begin messing with her!" Virtually the day after my post my car pooped out and then Dave's truck took a nose dive. Our dogs started to have problems and we needed to take them both to the vet and the groomer (hefty bill). It cost me some cash to have my phone replaced. All of this resulted in a giant money drain at a time when our income is not exactly what it used to be.<br />
<br />
You don't have to feel sorry for me though.<br />
<br />
Normally you could reliably cue a feeling of panic in me and my complaining reflex would kick in with a vengeance. But that's not what has happened (thumbing my nose at aforementioned demon). It's not that I don't care that we've had to spend all of this money or that I've been inconvenienced with the whole car situation. It's just that I can't really bring myself to feel all that terrible or even give it a whole lot of space in my head. I keep noticing how great I have it. I recognize that I am overwhelmingly privileged that I have so many great things in my life and the cash to maintain them and people around me to support us if we fall. Even if all of these material things went away I'm still richer and luckier than most of the world. Even when things get ridiculously messed up, it's OK. I feel a little like Wyatt in that picture above. Just kind of snoozing in warm arms. It's good.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-71681764195695253352013-01-27T17:30:00.001-06:002013-01-27T18:17:33.239-06:00beneath the surface<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">spotted eagle ray off the pier</td></tr>
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I returned last night from a week on a little island off the coast of Belize. It's snowing outside, blanketing the world in white. I'm wrapped in layers, and my sunburned back and insect-ravaged legs are tormenting me with itching that nothing seems to relieve. But it's OK. It's more than OK.<br />
<br />
I'm content.<br />
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But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you a story of beginnings and endings and new beginnings.<br />
<br />
Living in Minnesota has bred a deep love in me for complaining. It's always too cold in the winter or too wet in the spring or too hot in the summer or too windy in the fall. I'm well-trained by the whispers of my ancestors to guard my heart and hope for little and expect the worst. It's quite a safe way to live, and it's a habit of perception that mostly goes unnoticed. This is my beginning, my place of comfort, my warm cocoon of a normal life.<br />
<br />
When I left for Belize I was flooded with little disappointments and frustrations: a missing phone, a delayed flight, a later missed flight, alternative hotel accommodations. They all invited me in the first 24 hours to settle into a self-absorbed state of disturbance. But for some reason, I had no interest in that. I spent about an hour obsessing about my lost phone, and then I made a decision that is still impacting me today: I would not waste another moment worrying over something that I could not change. I declared an end to discontent. I let it all go and invited gratitude to make a home in me.<br />
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The island was colder and windier and rainier and cloudier than we were expecting. The sun stiffed us the entire time. When you looked out at the water it was mostly a reflection of the grey sky. I didn't care one bit. I grabbed a snorkel and dove off the peer and from here on out my words are going to be weak and thready compared to the reality they are pointing to. Beneath the surface of the water was a riot of color and movement and life that is still astounding me, and probably will until the day I die.<br />
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Fan coral welcomed me first, its movement demure, like a geisha, strong and shy. A spotted trunkfish flapped it's tiny fins furiously, propelling his bulky shape through the current like a miracle. Thousands of silver fish flashed a living symphony all around me. Stately Grey and Queen angelfish kissed the coral sending out a tiny cloud of debris of whatever did not suit them. I saw colors that do not exist in the frozen north except in longing dreams, the dreams that we struggle to hold onto when waking intrudes. There were sting rays and moray eels and parrotfish like clowns pocking the endless reefs. I drew in a long breath and pushed all the sorrow from my lungs. I floated wherever the waves felt like carrying me. I didn't want anything else.<br />
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I didn't want anything else.<br />
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Those are strange words for me. I'm always wanting, even when what I'm wanting is peace. But for a little while on a faraway reef in a foreign country, I was completely satisfied.<br />
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And for some reason, I'm still satisfied.<br />
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I'm peeking beneath the surface of things that seem dull and grey to find the life underneath. I'm letting the current take me back to my life in new ways. I won't let myself be fooled by the color of the sky reflecting off the sea of snow. There's beauty out there, so available, just under the places I've always known. It's obscene that I've made a home on this beautiful reef in the North, and it's only just occurred to me that there's something worth seeing under the water of my normal life.<br />
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Perhaps this is me dying or perhaps this is me being born again. I can't tell. All I really know is that I'll never care as much about a lost phone or a cloudy day. None of that matters so much anymore. I'm glad to be breathing in the outrageous sea of blessing right here in this moment.<br />
<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-84563444145172271422012-12-14T15:17:00.002-06:002012-12-14T15:17:53.496-06:00silence and sorrow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't really have words for what has happened today. I can't understand or make any sense of someone <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/liveblog/wp/2012/12/14/newtown-school-shooting-sandy-hook-elementary/?897098" target="_blank">walking into an elementary school and opening fire on little kids</a>. I think of Lincoln and Wyatt and my throat starts to close up and my heart constricts. Silence. That's all I have.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-53851888893752028262012-12-13T14:33:00.001-06:002012-12-13T15:43:51.224-06:00i dare you not to smile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm on my second day of whipping my depression. It's teaching me a lot. I had Wyatt here all day, and he cracks me up on a regular basis. It's pretty much impossible to stay down when he's skipping all over the place. Even when he's sleeping he makes me smile.<br />
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I went for that walk last night and I found so much to smile about there too. My neighborhood is so gorgeous. The sun was setting and making a scene. If you bother to open your eyes it will knock you out. So I'm opening my eyes as wide as I can manage.<br />
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What is knocking you out today?<br />
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<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-84757028270415057362012-12-12T15:50:00.000-06:002012-12-12T15:51:19.182-06:00opposite to emotion action<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I started to post a really depressed rant yesterday, but lucky for you I came to my senses before I hit the "publish" button. Let's just say it was guaranteed to make you run for the phone and dial the men in white to pick me up and drag me away to a padded room. Instead, I called a friend to get me out of the house for a bit. It was a good call. I still spent most of the day thinking about what a worthless person I am, but I'm feeling a lot better today.<br />
<br />
Pretending you're not depressed when you are is very much like running to the bathroom when you're choking on your bagel in the middle of a crowded restaurant. You might be less embarrassed in the bathroom stall, but you're also much more likely to die. It's better to keep your butt glued to your chair and make choking motions around your throat. That will get you help and keep you alive. Yesterday I called my friend and made choking noises and she swooped in and rescued me. She and another friend of mine wrapped their arms around me in such a way as to dislodge my hopelessness just enough so I could breathe.<br />
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Today I'm practicing <a href="http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/print066.html" target="_blank">opposite to emotion action</a>. It's a DBT skill where you decide what your emotions are telling you to do and then you do the exact opposite. So, when I checked in with myself today my body said, "Let's just stay in bed and watch mindless TV and eat things that have no nutritional value." I said, "That makes sense. AND that probably will just make you feel worse. So how about we give Danny a ride to work and take Janelle and Lincoln to Costco and then post a <a href="http://reknew.org/" target="_blank">ReKnew blog</a> and then clean a little? Even though that all sounds like the effort will kill you, it probably won't."<br />
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So that's what I did. Later, I think I'll get out my art supplies and see what happens. I might even go for a walk.<br />
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At this very moment, I'm sitting across the room from my lovely husband typing these words and wondering what in the world I have to be depressed about. Go figure.<br />
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It's not that I fixed anything, but if I keep making gentle little choices to do what I don't really want to do, I'll leave a trail of living behind me. terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-87227125637602020602012-12-02T20:52:00.001-06:002012-12-02T23:10:21.428-06:00winter as sabbath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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About a month ago in church, someone referred to winter as the Sabbath of the seasons. The fields lay fallow and the life that is deep in the ground waits for spring to revive it. I always get depressed when winter comes around, but I liked the thought of receiving winter as a time to rest and open up to the hidden work of God. I think I could take the cold if I focus on waiting and trusting.<br />
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It's been warm here for late November/ early December but the cold is just around the bend. I've heard that it will be another mild winter, but I can never allow myself to believe that. I have to prepare myself for the darkness and the air that sends ice needles into my lungs. What is God up to when nothing is blooming? What does he want from me when life is so deep under the hardness of the earth?<br />
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I think he wants me to remember that he is present, even when the all of the warmth of the world seems so far away. I think he wants me to rest and dream of resurrection, and continue to hope in the dark. So I'm hoping here against all of my old instincts. I'm listening to the absence of sound as the snow comes and my stiff fingers search for the keys that call to mind his love. I'm resting and tending to the life that is still and motionless in this season. I'm trusting that spring will be here before I know it, and that even things that seem dead can produce a riot of beauty when finally the sun comes close.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-19844624113050039122012-12-01T13:52:00.001-06:002012-12-01T13:52:23.792-06:00the opportunity of suffering<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I just remembered this poem by John O'Donohue today and thought I'd share it with you here. <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://download.publicradio.org/podcast/being/poetry/johnodonohue_a_blessing_for_a_friend.mp3?_kip_ipx=1123100305-1354391439" target="_blank">A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness</a></span> is one of my favorite poems of his because it so beautifully reveals the opportunity that suffering presents. Here, where I'm feeling ever so slightly stuck and down, it helps me to realize the fertility of this ground. Make sure you click on the link and listen to the author recite this poem because his Irish brogue is delicious. Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now is the time of dark invitation</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">beyond a frontier that you did not expect.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Abruptly your old life seems distant.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You barely noticed how each day opened</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a path through fields never questioned</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">yet expected deep down to hold treasure.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now your time on earth becomes full of threat.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before your eyes your future shrinks.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You lived absorbed in the day to day so continuous</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with everything around you that you could forget</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you were separate.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now this dark companion has come between you.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Distances have opened in your eyes.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You feel that against your will</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A stranger has married your heart. </span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing before has made you feel so isolated</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and lost.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the reverberations of shock subside in you,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">may grace come to restore you to balance.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May it shape a new space in your heart</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to embrace this illness as a teacher</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">who has come to open your life to new worlds.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May you find in yourself a courageous hospitality</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">towards what is difficult, painful and unknown.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May you use this illness as a lantern</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to illuminate the new qualities that will emerge in you.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May your fragile harvesting of this slow light help you</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">release whatever has become false in you.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May you trust this light to clear a path</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">through all the fog of old unease and anxiety</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">until you feel a rising within you,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a tranquility profound enough to call the storm to stillness.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May you find the wisdom to listen to your illness, </span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ask it why it came,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">why it chose your friendship,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">where it wants to take you,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">what it wants you to know,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">what quality of space it wants to create in you,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">what you need to learn to become more fully yourself,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that your presence may shine in the world.</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May you keep faith with your body,</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">learning to see it as a holy sanctuary</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">which can bring this night wound</span><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">gradually towards the healing and freedom of dawn.</span>terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-80960531418901354322012-11-27T14:39:00.001-06:002012-11-27T14:42:41.511-06:00on disappearing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As you might have noticed, I've disappeared lately. I've come to think of it as a hazard of my particular way of being in the world that I periodically have a difficult time sorting out my thoughts enough to write them down. I have been writing a little on a private blog regarding my time in Haiti and you can be added to the list to get notifications for that if you're interested. Just email haiti@kotakot.org if you'd like to get in on it. (We have to guard the information we give to people in order to keep our ministry and our friends in Haiti safe.) Writing for this private blog is about all I've been able to grind out these days.<br />
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I've been sick since I returned from Haiti, and that might have a little to do with my writing issues, but if I'm honest I'd have to say that it started long before this trip. (Incidentally, did you know that they call the stomach flu <a href="http://www.cdc.gov/norovirus/about/overview.html" target="_blank">Norovirus</a> these days? Also, did you know that an intestinal parasite can masquerade as Norovirus and that the only way to tell the difference is through a stool sample? You're welcome.) Anyway, I could blame my disappearance on illness or on being busy, but that's not really what's going on here.<br />
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I think I'm depressed.<br />
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I used to think I needed a really good excuse for saying that I'm depressed, but I've learned that depression doesn't wait for an excuse to come strolling into my house. It just invites itself in and rearranges all the furniture whether I like it or not. It usually takes me quite a few weeks or even months of tripping over the mess before I notice my unwelcome visitor. (I'm not that bright when it comes to these things.) It's a little embarrassing since I'm a counselor and also teach others to counsel. I should be way beyond this (or so I tell myself). It doesn't help that the first symptom of depression for me seems to be extreme fatigue and an annoying fogginess of mind. It's hard to muster the energy required to even notice what's going on, let alone do something about it. That's the demonic strand of depression. It's hard to care.<br />
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I basically just wake up one day and realize that I've become a zombie. (I won't eat your flesh, but I do look a little like an extra from <i><a href="http://www.amctv.com/shows/the-walking-dead" target="_blank">The Walking Dead</a></i>.) As you might imagine, this is quite concerning.<br />
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Today was that day for me.<br />
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So I'm gathering all of the little bit of energy in me in order to have a cup of coffee with my untidy houseguest to find out what it wants. It's no use trying to evict it. It just gets all pissy and whiny and stubborn when I've tried that in the past. It's best to just get quiet and listen and try a little gentleness and encouragement. So I'm listening in the nicest possible way. And I'm writing down what I hear.<br />
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This is me writing it down.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-81010399629939157172012-11-12T04:53:00.000-06:002012-11-12T04:53:00.853-06:00descending into haitiI'm sitting in the Fort Lauderdale airport with the rest of the team, waiting to board the flight to Haiti. Our travel plans didn't quite work out, so it's taken us a day to get to this point. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm tired already. We've been up since 3am, and the schedule craziness has me confused about what day it is. But I'm glad to be on our way, at last.<br />
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I always think of this process as descending into Haiti. As I travel there, my body is decompressing, bracing itself for the heat and chaos, the assault on the senses. The woman behind me is speaking creole and I get the gist of about a fourth of what she's saying. She's chattering about her breakfast and about how tired she is. I can relate.<br />
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I haven't been back to Haiti since the summer after the earthquake. I only saw Port au Prince briefly from an airplane before I flew to the South to see the girls. This trip we'll be spending a couple of days in Port. I've heard it's very different now. I'm a little anxious about that. I wonder if I'll recognize it with so many of the familiar landmarks destroyed or altered. I've heard the palace has been demolished and I'm dreading seeing the ruins of the cathedral first hand.<br />
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You might be thinking I'm not looking forward to this, and I can understand that from the way I'm talking, but I'm actually eager to get there and begin. For all my fears and sadness, I feel at home in Haiti in a way I never do in America. Especially in the South, the pace suits me. People have a warm way of greeting one another and they always ask about your family and your health and how you slept. They do this because they actually care. The heat has a way of slowing you down. The language is like a musical refrain.<br />
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And so we begin.<br />
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<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-89317172969425972062012-11-09T13:57:00.002-06:002012-11-09T14:48:25.643-06:00as i leave for haiti<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm leaving for Haiti early Sunday morning. Every time I make this trip I struggle with anxiety mixed with anticipation. It's like these two emotions are arm wrestling for who's going to take up residence in my chest. Haiti is such a strange place. I love it and hate it. Everyone who has ever spent any length of time there feels the same way (or at least everyone I've ever known). Sometimes I can't stand the pain I feel or the weight of helplessness that envelopes me. I want to wave a magic wand and make it all good, but it is light years from good. And trying to do something worthwhile there is like trying to dig a hole on a beach where the surf keeps crashing in and filling your pathetic efforts.<br />
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And still, I keep going back. I can't unlove the people who I have come to call my friends and mentors. I can't say no to the things that God has asked me to participate in. I can't disentangle my heart from this tiny piece of land that has seen more suffering than anyone can fathom. I don't keep going back because I'm so good and righteous. I keep going back because I don't really have a choice. My family lives there. They ask me to come, so I come. I don't pretend to know about any grand solutions. Smarter people than me have been gnawing on that bone for a very long time. I just go and try to stay focused on the little piece that God has placed in our laps. That's all.<br />
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I go because I love Olkine and Francianne and Mina and Loudana and Marianna and Aurore. I go because Madame L. is tired and needs us to encourage her. I go because Pastor P. is ill and says he's thirsty for our company. I go because my friends in Port au Prince are discouraged and need someone to laugh with. I go to introduce some of my friends from America to the people I love so they can understand the words that flow out of me like water.<br />
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I go to share my pain and love because alone they are too much to bear.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-86128043824615571102012-10-15T12:19:00.002-05:002012-10-15T12:26:51.103-05:00my new tribeThis weekend I was on a retreat with <a href="http://www.thirdwaychurch.org/" target="_blank">Third Way</a>, a new church community that I'm calling home. It was a hard decision to leave <a href="http://whchurch.org/" target="_blank">Woodland Hills</a>, the church I have called home for the last twenty years. I love Woodland Hills and I could never say enough good things about it. In fact, I'm on staff there and I am helping to teach their lay counseling class. It's truly beautiful and a place where they're asking all the right questions.<br />
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But it became clear to me in the last couple of months that I needed to become a part of Third Way. My kids and grandkids and many our friends attend there, and it's a small community where I can both be challenged and encouraged in my faith while also using my gifts to bless others. The first service I attended convinced me that this was where I belong. So now, here I am.<br />
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I packed my laptop in my luggage for the retreat, but I never opened it once. I wanted to be there, really be there, rather than floating off into my virtual world. The worship opened me up and went straight to the places in me that have been neglected and barren for so long. The teaching was profound and challenging. The people were welcoming and kind and funny. We sat in on sessions where we learned to worship with our whole bodies and dared to be foolish together. When we took communion together on the last evening I was moved to tears. That hasn't happened in so long. Dave and I are the elders in this place, but since I only really feel like I'm 30, I felt like I fit right in. During one of the worship times, a little four year old girl ran up to the musicians and danced to the music and no one reprimanded her. I love that freedom and intimacy, the kind of invitation that a child can embrace.<br />
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Was it perfect? Did I agree with every word that was taught? Nah. Those places where things don't quite fit or where I disagree always jump out at me like ghouls in a haunted house no matter where I am, but that's just the way my brain works. It's very annoying. But where are any of us going to find that mythical place where everyone agrees with us on everything? There is no such place, and even if there was, we would probably be wise to run in the other direction. It's a spiritual discipline of the highest order to live well among people who sometimes think differently than us.<br />
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The really miraculous thing is that I have permission to disagree and to notice the places where things stick a little inside of me. Maybe those things are only there for me to wrestle with alone or maybe they will be a gift to this little community. Either way, it's nice to be in a place that's small enough where others are committed to receiving hard things and carrying them with me safely. This is a place where things are messy and real and where, in the midst of all that, we are all pointing in the same direction, our agreed upon true north.<br />
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I'm still basking in the glow of the campfire, its warmth and laughter still present in my body. I found my tribe.<br />
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<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-77615449821423886972012-10-10T17:42:00.001-05:002012-10-10T17:42:41.285-05:00come closer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I posted this photo last week as a part of my vacation "tour" but I wonder how many of you noticed the grasshopper in the picture? Here's a closer look:<br />
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This is a sensation I'm getting lately. Like there's something that was there all along that I just never noticed before. I've been living a particular kind of life for a long time, but lately I'm noticing opportunities that didn't seem to be available to me until now. I've always wanted to be a writer, to communicate what's on my heart and to allow that writing to form me and anyone else who encounters it. Suddenly, just today (although I think this has been sneaking up on me for a while) it suddenly seemed possible. Out of nowhere I saw that little grasshopper (metaphorically speaking).<br />
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I asked Dave today what he thinks I should write about if I'm thinking about writing a book (notice that I'm not actually declaring that I'm thinking about it, but I really am) and he gave me a few really good ideas. And now I'm wondering, for those of you who have been reading me for some time, what would you like to see me write about in this way? Now that I see this as a real possibility, I'm asking what I really have to offer that would be valuable to others.<br />
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So I'm inviting you to come closer and notice what you see. Share it with me here. I'm all ears.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-69441896001594129132012-10-08T14:59:00.000-05:002012-10-08T14:59:20.626-05:00lost sheep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This makes me appreciate the parable of the lost sheep so much more than I ever have before. Plus it makes me laugh which is never a bad thing.<br />
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I've been sleeping an awful lot since I finished my part of the book. Not much energy for anything else. I've decided that tomorrow I'm going to get myself together. (Can one just <i>decide</i> that? I guess we'll see.)<br />
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Right now I have to get ready for work. I teach the counseling class tonight. (Do you think they'll notice that I'm half asleep? I guess we'll see.) terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-55290315287276336692012-10-05T10:00:00.000-05:002012-10-05T11:38:27.400-05:00a tour of my get-awaySo, I've been away at a resort in Southeastern Minnesota, and I intended blogging while I was there but I was just too busy not being busy. In order to catch you up and also to make you a little jealous and entice you to move to Minnesota if you don't already live here (you know who you are) I'm going to give you a photo tour of my time off absolute bliss. Enjoy!<br />
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<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-55763352956621204692012-09-27T11:27:00.002-05:002012-09-27T12:16:08.095-05:00whoa, this is different<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been talking a lot lately about how overwhelmed I am, and if you've followed my writing at all that will sound very familiar to you. I was sharing with some friends the other day what's been going on with me as I've been working on the book and teaching the class and managing the <a href="http://reknew.org/" target="_blank">ReKnew</a> website, and one of them noticed something that I had been sensing but didn't have words for. (Thanks Sarah!) What she noticed is that even though I'm terribly busy and still needing to figure out how to engage in this work wisely in terms of caring for myself well, it seemed like I was really enjoying what I'm doing much more than I ever have before.<br />
<br />
She's right.<br />
<br />
When I think about the times in the past when I've been overwhelmed or stressed, there's always been this element of <i>"this would be so much easier if it wasn't for this and this and this part of my work (that I kinda hate)."</i> Today, I can honestly say that <i>I</i> <i>love. every. single. thing. I'm. doing</i>. I don't know that I've ever been able to say that before. I don't experience dread or the temptation to avoid any aspects of the work I'm engaged in. I can happily work on this or that and be completely content even as I'm pushing on deadlines that are too squished together.<br />
<br />
I still experience a longing for the parts of my life that have been crowded out with the amount of work I've had. I miss my art and contemplation and the time I've had to sacrifice with my grandchildren and all of the other people I love. I'm hoping that once we finally send this book off to the publisher all of those things will be easy to come back to. But even that has changed for me. There's no feelings of resentment associated with my work. I'm happy here even as I long for the things I'm missing. I can't possibly overstate how utterly bizarre and awesome that is.<br />
<br />
I stepped outside today and noticed what a perfect day it is. The weather has cooled in the last few weeks and the leaves are showing off the way they do this time of year. Contentment washed over me in the way that a calm tide washes over pebbles on a beach, smoothing them out so that they shine.<br />
<br />
This is good.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-36900608489716175652012-09-26T01:05:00.000-05:002012-09-26T01:05:38.693-05:00writing in my pajamas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These days I've been so caught up in writing and editing that I find myself not bothering to get dressed. I spend all day in my pajamas drinking coffee and only getting up periodically when some bodily need or another (I'm hungry, I'm achy, I'm thirsty, I have to use the bathroom) forces me out of my chair. When someone speaks to me I feel like I have to climb out of a deep cave to hear the sound of their voice echoing off the walls. I'm not terribly aware of what day it is or what time it is or even where I am. This is both a gift and a big fat problem.<br />
<br />
It's a gift in that it allows me to plow through great swaths of material in a short amount of time. The cave analogy is not far off. It's very much like exploring a deep unknown cave, cut off from the world above, turning my flashlight here and there to discover the mysterious drawings on the walls. I'm free to listen to the sounds that lead me forward through the deeper and deeper arteries in the earth. It's all very exciting. Sometimes I have to feel the damp walls while I inch forward, unsure of my footing or of the creatures that might be watching me with their wide-open eyes, much more sensitive than mine in the heavy blanket of pitch black. This might sound frightening, but it takes my breath away...the curiosity of what I might find in the secret passages. If you're a writer you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you're not, I'll just ask that you relax and reconsider you're urge to have me committed.<br />
<br />
It's a big fat problem because I'm in a <i>freaking cave for crying out loud</i>. It's lonely and consuming and dark. It's easy to forget who I am because the darkness makes it difficult to see my own body. In fact, I become disembodied, a floating pair of eyes straining to see the next step with feet I cannot make out. It doesn't occur to me to eat until I'm starving. It doesn't occur to me to drink some water until I'm so thirsty my lips have started to stick together. I don't think to shift my weight or walk around until it takes a herculean effort to do so and the pain in my back is unbearable. I don't go to the bathroom until it's a bit touchy whether I'll make it there before I wet myself. God forbid someone is in the bathroom when I need it.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I glance down and see my silly pajama bottoms and think how far I've drifted from reality, how many miles away from civilization I've wandered. But I can see the light at the far end of this cave. The first thing I'm going to do when I emerge is to change out of my pajamas and do all of the things that normal people do. I can't quite remember what all of those things are, but I'm pretty sure it involves going to the bathroom more often and venturing out into the light. That's going to be good.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-39774526178468072262012-09-20T22:32:00.002-05:002012-09-20T22:32:50.250-05:00happy birthday to me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, I'm 51 today. I celebrated by spending 12 hours with my friend Greg editing the book we're working on. Yeah. I really know how to party. When I told my son, Joey, my plans for the day he said, "Ya know what I want to do for my birthday? Edit."<br />
<br />
Well, when you put it that way smarty pants...<br />
<br />
We're still not finished, but the deadline is October 1, and we're gonna be done by that date if it kills us both. I hope it doesn't though. I'm pretty sure it won't. Really, I'm relatively positive.<br />
<br />
When this book is done, it's gonna rock. And I'm going to sleep. A lot. I might eat some chocolate too. You never know about these things. I'm a party animal for sure.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-27678124120185451172012-09-19T18:32:00.000-05:002012-09-19T18:32:17.879-05:00a few sweet days of nothing much<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Well, I got through the seriously psychotic portion of my busyness. By Monday night my body was starting to whip out the f-bomb on me and sending headaches and all, but it forgives me fairly quickly and we're fast friends again. It's practically singing my praises. Yesterday I slept a lot, went to the library, and picked up some groceries. Today I got some errands done and went for a four mile walk. For a while I was feeling kind of guilty about not getting enough done, but I quickly gave myself permission to putter for a few days, and it's been lovely.<br />
<br />
If you're wondering, the class is going very well. I think I'm going to really like these students. Generally it takes several weeks for everyone to get comfortable, but these guys are already exchanging numbers and laughing together. It's going to be a good year. I'm getting together with Greg tomorrow for another intensive day of editing but we're getting very close to the finish line. That's going to feel awesome!<br />
<br />
I'm going to be spending the next several weeks trying to settle into a sane rhythm for the work I'm doing and also for the things I need to attend to in order to care for myself well. I'm not usually the kind of person who pays much attention to schedules. I'm not usually what you would call disciplined. But I have to at least have a sense of what fits where in my days and nights. I know I can count on my body to let me know how that's going. It's very generous with its feedback.terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-3183723962920197792012-09-14T16:50:00.003-05:002012-09-14T16:50:53.803-05:00here i go...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's going to be a long weekend through Monday night. But I've come to like a strenuous walk up a rough flight of stairs. You get very relaxed afterwards. Hopefully my body will hold off on that <a href="http://justthisonelittlething.blogspot.com/2012/09/notes-from-my-body.html" target="_blank">ransom note</a> until Tuesday. </div>
<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409224199369912484.post-9916256203559003332012-09-14T01:13:00.004-05:002012-09-14T01:18:53.520-05:00notes from my body<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This weekend is a big one for me. The counseling class is kicking off and I'll be teaching Friday night, Saturday during the day, and also Monday night. I've been away at the lovely writing cabin since last Monday working feverishly with my friend to get our book done (we got an extension and it's due October 1), and I've also been very busy with the ReKnew website. Oh my.<br />
<br />
This might sound a little like bragging to you (Oh, look at how busy and important I am!) but actually, I'm feeling a lot of guilt about it. I don't like being this busy, even when it's doing things that I love. I've missed my husband and grandkids. I've neglected other areas of my life. My art and my health goals have suffered. The laundry is threatening to spill out into the hallway. My house is in dire need of a good cleaning. And my spirit is hungry for stillness and rest. This is not good for me.<br />
<br />
Still, I can't complain, and this is my bed that I chose to lie in. I'm glad that I'm doing satisfying and stimulating work, and I expect that things will settle down after the book deadline. I'm making a little money for my family, and that's a relief after several years of feeling very pinched. So it's not all bad. Not at all.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing though: I need to stop before my body gets all demanding and weird on me. I have this thing where I go and go and go until one day, out of the blue, my body sends me a nice little note. It usually sounds something like this:<br />
<br />
<i>Dear Terri,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We've had a meeting and we'd like to ask you to back off a bit and pay some attention to us in here. We're feeling a little neglected and out of sorts. I know you're terribly busy, but we checked and we're fairly certain that the world will go on just fine if you take your foot off that gas pedal and slow down. Thanks for listening. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Sincerely,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Your Body</i><br />
<br />
Isn't that nice? My body is so sweet to me in the early stages of insanity. All the voices inside me speak in hushed tones, so soothing, and ask me ever so gently to pay attention.<br />
<br />
I hardly ever listen to these early notes.<br />
<br />
I say things like, <i>yes, yes, just this one thing more and then I'll sit and listen to you.</i> So I keep going and going and going, and pretty soon I get another note. This one is scribbled instead of typed and the tone is decidedly different. It goes something like this:<br />
<br />
<i>Terri,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We don't like to be ignored, especially when we asked so politely. Apparently you need some incentive. So here's the deal: We're sending some muscle tension to your neck and sucking some energy out of your limbs. We don't like to take measures like this, but we don't see another option at this point. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Now, cease and desist or it's gonna get ugly fast. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Your Body</i><br />
<br />
This note generally gets my attention much more than the first (when will I learn to pay attention to that first note?!?) but I get distracted and pretty soon I drift back into busyness. That's when the last note comes and it looks like a ransom note pasted together from old newspapers and magazines by someone wearing rubber gloves and a sinister grin. There's no negotiating now. It's too late to play nice. This is what the last note says:<br />
<br />
<i>Stupido,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We're not f***ing around anymore. We've got your head in a vice and your heart on a platter. Drop what you're doing right now, or else!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Anonymous</i><br />
<br />
I don't know why my body stops signing the notes at this point. It's perfectly obvious who sent it. I'm so sorry that my head and my heart have to suffer because I'm stubborn. At this point I have no choice but to give in to my body's demands. So I stop. And if I'm lucky, the hostages are released.<br />
<br />
My body knows how to get what it wants.<br />
<br />
I think I'll give my body a nice break after Monday. Maybe I'll take it on a walk or take it to visit some friends or maybe invite it to paint for a while. My body loves that kind of thing. And really, I've only gotten the first note at this point, so maybe I've learned enough over the years to avoid a hostage situation.<br />
<br />terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08284855262535595879noreply@blogger.com10