With Empathy (Brynnsight) - I probably should have cut this into two parts.

I’m not even sure where to begin here. Usually by the time I sit down to write a blog I already have paragraphs written out in my head, in order, before I even sit down with my pen or keyboard. I do know what I want to say, but the order is still screwed up. I would have waited until it was all ready, but it would appear that I have to write it now – the thoughts pushed against the front of my head so much that I was alerted (read: woken up) 3 hours before my alarm with an inability to ignore them. I’ve written before about how much I enjoy learning these little quirks of mine that validate my urge to write. I’ve even bragged about how little time it takes me to write something (because things percolate in my head first) – and I feel like I’m eating those words now! Whatever; I have to listen to the voices.

I’m also unable to control the length of this in my head – there is a measure of necessary backstory.

(Mom, you may as well stop reading now. This could be long.)

Let me start off by saying this: I do not take credit for my children in any way – blame or praise.

Children don’t ‘turn into’ creations we’ve molded them to be.  Think about this: we all have had those special moments of clarity when we realize what a unique spirit each of us truly is. In that moment – whether we manage to retain the thought or not – do we once feel that we were the product of our parents? No. What we feel is our own individuality – a feeling that we understand to be solely a part of our individual selves, separate from and above any one thing we have ever been taught and any one we have ever known. Is that sense of spirit something we ‘grew’? No. It is something we are, and are born with – and it is who we are, no matter our upbringing.

This is the basis of all stories involving children who grew up to become something other than what was expected of them, good and bad.

Understand, too, that there is more than one way to teach anyone anything. What is learned/accepted/absorbed depends on how a person learns and that person’s level of motivation to learn (for whatever reason, be it the threat of backlash, the desire for praise, or something in between).

Children do not learn solely what they are told, either. They’ve shown us in many hilarious ways that they are great mimics, too. Familial dynamics and birth order included, if you really think about it, anything we feel we’ve taught or imprinted on them is as relevant as residue. As they begin to feel their unique spirit on their own, they make choices about what they will accept from us based on what they resonate with. If they don’t like it, they can just brush it off.

We’ve all made that choice knowingly, in many ways. Did you always get along with your parents? When you started making your own decisions, who did or do you listen to first – or ultimately?

This is not an attempt at absolution of blame. First of all, there is no blame. Each and every one of us acts and reacts solely on the unique mixture of our own experiences, thoughts, and emotions; secondly, the idea of blame is the denial of self-power.

You made me do it. No. My reasons for doing it may have involved some consideration of you, but I made the choice to do it. The understanding of that comes down to the personal level self-awareness – remember, choices can be made unconsciously and by default, but they are still choices.

Whether or not my children do ‘well’ is entirely up to them. My job – my responsibility to them – first involves physical nurturing (food, clothing, housing, and clean diapers) and basic guidance (“look both ways before crossing the street”). Since they first learn what they see, I need to show them how to honor their own unique spirit by honoring my own, from that place of love.

Taking credit for them is also wrong. Credit and blame are two sides of the same coin. My children will understand that the power is theirs; I will not take it away from them by accepting credit for their accomplishments.

They are not going to grow into unique individuals; they are unique individuals. Each of my daughters’ being is and always was, and has very little to do with me. I’m a gateway, not a way.

In the same respect that the teacher is the student, I as the parent am also the child. There have been many occasions where my daughters have said or done something surprising – something I cannot trace back to anything about me or their lineage/surroundings. Those experiences have shown and continuously prove the idea of unique spirit. I have been made aware of it, and I’ll be damned if I attempt to thwart it.

If I really believed that my daughters were my creation, then I would have to believe that my real children were switched at birth with someone better's kids, and that I should start looking for their natural birth mothers.

I tell them they are weird. It is the highest compliment I can give them, because it supports the idea for them that they don’t have to be anything other than themselves.

My girls have taught me so much in so many ways, and I am constantly in awe of both of them.

THAT BEING SAID, here’s the prologue:

(It’s Brynn’s fault this time!) :)

Brynn is eleven years old, and she is more adult than I am. She has a sense of the ‘bigger picture’ far better than I do, an immediate grasp of situations, and a talent for being able to put things in words succinctly. As of this morning (because it just occurred to me), I will now be calling this quality, ‘Brynnsight’.

Two specific examples (before last night) stand out:

Her father and I split up when she was almost six. Like all parents before us in the same situation, we ‘sat her down’ to give her the bad news. After we told her – making sure to tell her what we were supposed to - that this had nothing to do with her and that we still both loved her very much and respected each other, she got very quiet in a considering sort of way. She asked who she was going to live with and we told her she would live with me. Then she got off my lap and said, “I’ll be right back.” She left the room for a minute and came back with a tiny little clay animal that she had made and handed it to her father, saying calmly, “Here, Daddy. I made this for you in case this happened.”

WHOA!

The other time was just three years ago, when she was eight. Her sister Deren (who is older by eleven years) was nearing the end of a not-so-positive three-year relationship. Another … big upset had occurred, and it was becoming very clear to Deren that this may not be something she wanted. It was a case of the usual ‘how many times does something bad have to happen before I realize this may not be working?’ situation. The three of us were in the room together, and Brynn had her arm around Deren in sympathy. Deren was very upset, understandably. Brynn let her talk for a while and then said to her, comfortingly, “At least this wasn’t a surprise.”

(-- I don’t know who was more shocked when she said that!)

NOW ONTO THE SPECIFICS OF WHAT SET ME OFF ON THIS TANGENT:

Like any parent who is tired of watching the same stupid children’s movies over and over and over again, I’ve begun exposing Brynn to a lot of older movies, movies I grew up with. I did the same with Deren. I tell them I’m exposing them to pop culture, but in reality I’m ensuring that the same stupid children’s movies we watch over and over and over again are the stupid children’s movies that I like. I admit it.

At this point I have to interject a little about myself – not to prove that Brynn is like me, but to show my basis for understanding her own uniqueness.

During my many therapy sessions – or conversations with my girlfriends over drinks (tomato, tomahto), I’ve begun to understand my own sense and depth of empathy. My best doctor/friend, Donna, was the one who helped me understand it the best. We were discussing connections, a very strong life-theme of mine, and I was venting my anger at my inability to understand why I can feel empathy to such a level that it incapacitates me. I can’t read or watch the news; when I hear of something bad happening to someone, I have a sense of feeling everything I can imagine they are feeling. I won’t go into detail, but what I experience is enough to paralyze me indefinitely. I wanted to know what the purpose of it was – I thought I’d be able to deal with it better if I understood why, or if I thought there was some cosmic benefit to it.

I can’t watch movies where children are being hurt, tormented, or portrayed as evil. Violence in movies actually makes me sick. I got into a full-on fight with my first ex because he didn’t change the television channel in time for me to avoid seeing something I didn’t want to see (something I still remember and feel to this day, nineteen years later).

I understand empathy to be a part of our connectedness, however I was questioning the whys of it. Donna gave me the kick in the ass I needed, by telling me in no uncertain terms that it was not my place to know why – that I don’t and can’t control everything. She also helped me understand that on some level, my taking on of those feelings was more of a Universal way of easing the load of the collective.  That I was able to understand, because I believe anything done to or for one is done for all.

So, anyway, now I’m introducing older movies to Brynn (mostly 80’s classics). I’ve been trying to guess her taste by what she showed interest in. I was very surprised that she loved “Forrest Gump”. Honestly, I thought that because she didn’t know most of the history of it that she would have no interest. She has stated openly that she now realizes she likes romantic comedies – but not all. She loves “You’ve Got Mail” but hated “Sleepless in Seattle” (except the ending).  She hated “Sixteen Candles”! What? She wouldn’t even watch the whole thing! All she kept saying was, “Why didn’t she tell her parents they forgot her birthday?!”

I did tell her it ended happy, but it wasn’t enough for her to endure what she called ‘torture’.  It was after this that I realized we share a similar quirk of … something, regarding what we can or cannot expose ourselves to (she knows I only repeatedly watch the endings of “The Shawshank Redemption” and “The Pursuit of Happyness” because I cannot endure the pain of them). Okay. Noted.

Then, we tried “Moulin Rouge”. After it ended, she looked at me and burst into tears – partly in anger at me that I made her watch a sad movie. Apparently, she and I are not alike in our taste of ‘reflective’ sorts of movies.

I told you she was weird, right? She’s a rule-follower. To the letter. She takes pride in that, too. Doesn’t use bad words, or even words she considers bad. Totally not me.

She is also very – very – expressive in her happiness. If she is enjoying something, she will stop and just announce, “I LOVE THIS!” I love her constant expressions of appreciation.

As her mother, and knowing her life, I would not say she’s had the best childhood – at least nothing to brag about. Her parents are not together, she’s never lived in a house, she has gone without more than with. And she is happy, oddly enough.

The first time I had to reprimand her – actually, reprimand her – was four years ago. She broke down in tears to the point of hyperventilating. I then had to explain to her that there will be some times she will be yelled at, and that not everything is perfect. Her answer? Between crying hiccups she stammered, “But … it … always … has … been!” That blew me away.

Last night (I know, FINALLY!), I suggested “Edward Scissorhands”. She knows who Johnny Depp is and Tim Burton (even though she thinks he’s creepy), and appreciates Danny Elfman’s music (“The Nightmare Before Christmas” soundtrack is a favorite).

BAD DECISION.

I was working, so she was watching it alone. She came into my room after about 45 minutes or so with an odd look on her face and burst out crying (they had turned on him).

She told me (I can’t remember her exact wording here) that as she is getting older, she is being exposed to more things (not just movies) that upset her and “she can’t do anything!” – which hit me hard, with my own understanding of painful things paralyzing me.

I asked her if she understood the ideas of sympathy and empathy, and explained to her the general definitions of sympathy being the idea of feeling sorry for someone and of empathy being the idea of feeling the same feelings as another.

I told her that I understood her feeling that way, mentioning my own quirks about what I feel the need to inundate myself with or avoid.

I also told her that I was trying to understand her point of view. She liked “Notting Hill” – and Hugh Grant is miserable during a lot of it. She liked “Forrest Gump” even though his mother and Jenny died. I knew from “Moulin Rouge” that she didn’t like sad movies, but I couldn’t put my finger on what separated one partially sad movie with a happy or inspiring ending from another with her.

This is where she sat me back on my heels, both in her explanation and in her ability to understand her own feelings enough to vocalize them clearly:

“I feel that sense of …

(ready for this?)

… abuse.”

How the hell did she come up with such right, clear, concise, and understandable words? How does she understand herself so well at her age? The understanding she has of herself is truly amazing. I have to get a better grasp of that before I really piss her off.

Thank you, Brynn, for giving me an explanation even I understand. Thank you for proving more clearly to me each person’s own unique spirit. Thank you for teaching me more perspective.

Thank you, too, for waking me up too early and causing me to start my day later than I wanted to.

Creating the Life I am Living (The Birthday Blog)

In the ‘birthdays are a time of reflection’ category:

I’m 49 today! Big deal, right?

Right. It is a big deal. To me. And that’s all that matters.

(I may or may not be sticking my tongue out at you right now. The odds are good on the former.)

Anyway, maybe this particular blog as a ‘summation of what I’ve learned thus far’, so to speak, should have waited until next year on my ‘milestone 50^th’ birthday, especially since I’m often spouting about how we change all the time and I could change my mind on these things by next year; however, my opinions on what I’m writing about now haven’t changed, and - wait ‘til next year? Puh-leeze. If you’ve learned anything about me here it’s that: patience is not my strong suit and I almost never do what I should do.

Then again, I could still change my mind in exactly one year and completely recant everything I’m saying today. I might even do that. Just for the sport of it.

But for now, as a new 49-year-old, right now:

I. LOVE. MY. AGE.

I love being older.

When we were younger –

- I say ‘younger’ instead of ‘kids’ because I still feel like a kid –

 we couldn’t wait to grow up because then we ‘could do whatever we wanted to do’.

(For the record, I haven’t grown up yet. At this exact moment there are still no plans to.)

Do you realize how true that is? We can do whatever we want to do.

I’ll say it again: We can do whatever we want to do.

I can hear the argument that starts with the discussion of all the things we have to do because of our ‘responsibilities’: we have to work to support our kids, our homes, our lives.  We feel we have no choice here; but we do. I can choose to work or choose not to work. And then the argument goes: you have to work or you will lose what you have.

Think about that. Consequences or repercussions do not imply lack of choice, they merely change the parameters of what we are choosing between. If I choose not to work, I will suffer the consequences, right?

Then I am making a choice between working and not getting paid, and not between working or not working. The ‘consequence’ of the choice is the actual choice. Ergo, I still have the ability to make a choice, and there is no have to.

See what I did there?

What I have learned is that it really depends on how we think (and, of course, if we think). We truly do create our own realities.

When we are younger, our beliefs are quite expansive. We have no knowledge of how to limit ourselves. That comes with age. And later with more aging, we learn how limited we've allowed ourselves to become.

We then make another choice: live with the limits we learned or take a deep breath and let them go.  

As we get older we begin to see that so many of the rules we live by are learned and not natural. What we knew as children before we were shown the ideas of expectations and judgment was natural … and right. We learned to worry about what other people thought of us, and were taught to behave under specific standards of conformity – and these differed geographically.

How can so many different groups of race, ethnicity, gender and religion not see that if they’d simply been born somewhere else their whole learned-belief-scope would be different? And if they see that, how can they assume their learned-belief-scope is the one and true way? Doesn’t that simple fact prove unequivocally how much of what any one of us believes now is learned and not known?

There is a difference between belief and knowing. Belief implies a base hope; knowing just is.

We were born out of love, and love was our first experience. As babies, we looked around at the world around us with awe and appreciation at how different everything was - but then grew up to be taught that only some differences are acceptable.

I have limited myself continuously out of concern of judgment from everyone around me; my parents, my school, my churches, teachers, the ‘popular’ kids, the rich kids, the boys, the girls, the men, the women, society, magazines, politics, my kids, my kids’ teachers, other parents, boyfriends, husbands, siblings … and that guy on the corner.  Their expectations and the threat of judgment from them played a big part in how I acted, spoke, dressed, worked, played, taught, learned … and even thought. Yes, in some cases I did choose the path of rebellion and did things to spite them – but it still proves that my life was limited or controlled by others’ thinking (even in reverse). And I chose that, because I was still stuck in my learned conformity.

I realized that sad fact a long time ago. At first, I spent a number of years being angry at everyone else for doing that to me; then a few more years angry at myself for letting them. Then I realized I was wasting time and decided to take matters into my own hands. I decided to change – secretly, of course.  Secretly, because if I told anyone what I was planning to do – who I was planning to be, whose rules I was planning to follow - there would be enough opposition to make me cower back in my corner and conform.

It took even longer to get up the courage to act on my newer way of thinking.

Now, I’m more committed to doing what I want more than ever – to being who I am.  No matter what anyone else thinks or says. That’s the beauty of it. The freedom in being myself – being true to what I know­ – is incredible. Do I still use bad judgment? DUH. Sometimes I’m even aware of it at the time and choose it anyway. Does it still hurt if someone judges me, or is disappointed in me? Of course; but not as much, and definitely not as often.

I am so much happier this way.

The flip side (because it’s never this OR that – it’s always this AND that) is actually even better. The more I release myself of outside expectations and judgments, the less I expect and judge others.

I am creating my own reality – even your part in it is somewhat of my own creation. What I choose to 'get' from you is what I want to see. As co-creators together, this is the most and bestest support I can give you, as long as what I choose to see in you is positive. Without judgment or expectation, I am learning to love you as the love you were when you were born. I can be happy loving you, because love is always positive. If I feel I’m being hurt by that, then I need to change my expectations of you and allow you the same freedoms of choice that I am learning to allow myself.

No, I still don’t quite have the hang of it yet – but I’m getting there.

Back to the ‘flip side’. This AND that. It is always this AND that. The other side of the coin – both sides at the same time – because without both sides there is no coin. There will always be something positive in what we perceive to be negative, and always something negative in what we perceive to be positive. Polarity is necessary for perspective. The person who is born blind will never know what darkness is if he’s never seen light. Polarity is necessary for choice of preference. So-called ‘bad’ choices are helpful for the same reason.

If I remain aware of my freedom of choice in my thoughts and make sure to find my positive in everything, then I – and only I – control my actions. Actions are the results of emotions which are the results of thoughts. This is how we create our reality.

This is how I’m creating mine. It took me 49 years to get here, but with the focus on the right perspective I can say it’s been a great time. (Don’t ask me about that on a bad day – I have occasionally been known to choose self-pity.)

I control my life. I love the power and freedom in knowing that. No matter what I do; right or wrong, good or bad, stupid or stupid-er. There is no blame on others, and can be no blame on myself because I make choices based on my knowledge at the moment.

You can think whatever you want of me. That’s pretty great for you, isn’t it? And whatever you think is fine – good even, because it has no effect on me unless I want it to, or if I decide to teach myself a lesson and choose for it to.

 (I’m hoping to grow out of that.)

My reality, my choice; your reality, yours. How fun is that? We each get our own piece of paper and our own crayons!

We were told as kids that we need to learn to grow. I feel like I’m still a kid, but lately I find I’m growing more by un-learning. Still more of this and that. I love synchronicity.

I can hear the Universe shouting to me, “Happy Birthday, Susie!” but it sounds like, “It’s about time!”

Yes, it is. 49 years' worth. 

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today I Feel ...

Weird. Not just today; this odd feeling has been around for a couple of weeks now. It’s a good kind of weird – however, it is weird that it’s good.

Do you remember when you were a kid (this is not to imply that I’m a grownup or that I’m old) and something would happen that would just make you giddy? You’d ride that little high for a while.

I feel like that now. For no reason. Seriously; no reason. And I feel silly – I mean I feel like being silly.

What’s weird is that nothing has happened to cause this. I didn’t win the lottery. The man of my dreams hasn’t shown up on my doorstep offering to ‘take me away from all this’ (I don’t even have Calgon). I’m not drunk. I didn’t get laid.  I’m overtired from the extra craziness at my main job and the extra hours at my second – extra time that is only helping me maintain, not get ahead. I had a migraine over the weekend with a fever and I actually felt sick – and I don’t usually get sick.

(I should probably stop there before I jinx myself.)

Yet something is making me happy. Grateful, even.

- No. Not grateful. Gratitude implies a feeling of … humility? I’m not feeling humbled. Appreciative. That’s a better word, because you can hear the smile in it. Little things keep crossing my mind that just make me smile; things that I have, things that I have done, things that I enjoy(ed). By rights, with the way things are going right now I should be (and usually am) a tad bitchy – but I’m not. Everything around me is making me happy – or isn’t making me unhappy.

While it might be nice to know what is causing this so that I can make sure it continues, I’m not questioning it. I’m acknowledging my awareness of it. Thank you. It feels pretty good. I feel pretty good – despite the fact that I’m overtired, achy, can't quite rid myself of this headache, and I haven't had steak in over two weeks.

  --- and what if something good happens?

That’s pretty cool, don’tcha think?

I’ll take it.

An Exchange of Power

Yesterday I went to a party. I talked to a girl I didn’t know for a long time about a painful situation she was going through - a situation I did know about. She was probably in her early 20’s - about the same age as my oldest daughter.

Before I left, I gave her the necklace I was wearing - something small in the grand scheme of things, but very significant to me; something that has given me immeasurable comfort that was passed on to me by a very special lady. It was a large and very old moonstone. A rainbow moonstone. My ‘power stone’, as I called it.

It is nothing new for me to give something like that away; I was on the receiving end of a similar transaction almost twenty years ago that impacted me in such a profound way that I had to keep it going (backstory).

But this was my ‘power stone’. I didn’t have it for very long, and it was something I had an awareness of at all times; its weight around my neck felt as new as the first day I put it on, and I had not taken it off since that day. I would constantly reach up to my neck and cup the stone in my hand. It grounded me. My power stone.

During our conversation, something inside me told me to give it to her. I didn’t know if she’d take it – or even if she’d like it – but I’ve learned to hear and listen to that inner voice. That’s how it works for me.

I’ll be honest: I never thought I’d part with it, and if I ever did I did not expect it to be for a long while because I was so … aware of my awareness of it.

I’ll be honest again: when I heard that inner urging, I questioned it with, “Really?” I was immediately answered that I didn’t need it anymore. Like Dumbo and his feather (I’m giggling at that thought as it just popped into my head. Dumbo. [snicker]);  he didn’t need it to fly, but since he couldn’t trust in his own ability, he needed something tangible to hold onto – to believe in, until he learned to believe in himself.

 -- Damn! Lonestar and the ring of the Schwartz – from Spaceballs! Why couldn’t that have been the example that popped into my head first? I’m talking about jewelry, too! Dumbo. Ha! Dumbass. I guess I still need to be able to laugh at myself a little more.

When I reached up to take it off I knew I was doing the right thing, and when I gave it to her that feeling grew into more certainty. It felt like a transfer of power, in a sense. Her reaction to the gift was the same as mine that day twenty years ago when it started for me. If I had any questions at all whether or not I’d done the right thing – that this would be taken as significantly as I’d meant – they were erased later when I saw her mingling with other party guests and caught sight of her a few times reaching up to her neck and cupping the stone in her hand as I did so many times these past few months.

It wasn’t until I was in my car for the hour-long drive home that I realized the enormity of that event for me. There was one smaller detail that I hadn’t considered: the chain, the chain the stone was hanging on (the stone pendant had been given to me without a chain, and I used my own). Even the chain was special to me (for reasons I don’t need to explain here) – and I never once thought of it when I took it off. Not once. That blew my mind when I realized what else I’d let go of. Without any awareness or thought of it. And I was okay. No, I was more than okay. I think I smiled like an idiot for the entire drive – I felt so good.

I realized more about all of that, too; I was mistaken in my thought of it as a transfer of power. It was not a transfer; it was an exchange. In talking with her (someone unfamiliar to me) about something I’d already experienced, I heard in my own voice how much I’d grown since then. Right from the horse’s mouth. Even though I would have told anyone that I still haven’t been able to get past it. Even though I believed I was still stuck, I heard from my own mouth that I wasn’t – at least not like I’d thought. Whoa!

As a firm believer in the connectedness of all of us, I believe that one of the implications of that is that if you harm another, you are doing harm to yourself; which means the reverse is also true: if you do a service to another, you are also serving yourself. This and that. Both sides of the same coin. When you lift up another, you are lifting up everyone else. Even Jesus said that what you do for someone else you do for him.

This means that if I was able to give her any comfort at all, I was also comforting the part of me that had felt the same way she did, as well as every other person in the same situation – in the realm of the collective consciousness, the spirit connection of all of us.

In that vein, too, I was able to comfort my own daughter in a small way – the words I said to this girl would not have been received so well by my daughter, simply because of the bias most children have towards their parents’ inability to ‘understand’. (As if I never felt that way towards my own parents!) But those words are now 'out there' and she will benefit from the collective.

I'm aware that my neck is bare, but not in the sense of a feeling of something missing. The necklace never felt like a shackle or yoke, either. I don't feel like I've been freed, but I do feel free.

If I ever see this young woman again I would thank her for what she gave to me. I gave her a simple necklace, but she gave me something in return, too.

It was definitely an exchange. Of power.

I had taken the picture of her to show to the woman who gave me the stone. The picture of the two of us was taken by someone else at the party with no plan or design to 'feature' the necklace.

A Birthday Present for Someone Passed

Today is your birthday. Happy Birthday!

You have been gone for just about four years now, yet every single day I am reminded how very present you are with me still.

I still remember the last day that I saw you. It was two days shy of a month after your birthday … on my birthday. At the time, I believed that the Universe was almost adding insult to injury – we both knew what was coming, and our last day together being my birthday seemed like a cruel joke - but I now consider it a gift, because you are now forever tied to a date that I celebrate in a big way publicly, and in an even bigger way privately.  You knew how much my own birthday meant to me, and now you are permanently a part of the rest of them. Two days less than a month from today, you will be celebrating with me. Thank you. (Apologies to the Universe, too; my head was up my ass.)

I’ve written about you many times (I will be questioning you later to see if you read everything like you said you would!). The very first book I published was a coloring book, of all things, and that was solely because of you; I don’t draw, but I started to after you left - after I wrote out my grief and insanity enough to fill a few notebooks and then ran out of things to say (I know! Wow!). I remember clearly the day I picked up the Sharpie and started doodling on the back cover of the last notebook.

Your passing made me question my beliefs about life itself and life after death, and positively validated all of them – once I reached a point that I was able to start looking at things objectively and without anger.

The lessons you learned for and about yourself during the course of your illness put you in a position to show me (not tell) how to be a better person. I remember one disagreement we’d had that you’d handled so thoughtfully – despite the fact that it might have been caused by some unrealistic expectations on my end. (Maybe.) I was so taken aback by your considerate and fair handling of it that I’d questioned if you were “always like this.” You immediately answered that you were not, and that you were sad that it took the Big C to make you learn that and so many other things. I remember telling my sister about that situation and how she cried at your thoughtfulness – something she’d never experienced to that degree before, either.

My experience of that lesson (and others) of yours have made me very aware of how I react in situations of disagreement (yes, I can even see when I’m being an ass).

That awareness has carried over into many other areas of my life.

I have learned to really believe in the adage, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I used to think I believed it already, but it goes so much deeper than its first-understood meaning. That has helped me recently, in matters of acceptance over losses I experienced that I have been quite … less-than-willing to resign myself to.

The level of connection we had here is still present. Being able to see it has allowed me to be aware of more connectedness with others around me and the degrees of different connections – and to appreciate all of them.

Our conversations held very little ‘small’ talk. There was no time for that. You were put in a position that called on you to micro-analyze you and everything around you. Through you, I was able to begin to learn to see the ‘bigger picture’ in a way I could not have on my own.

These are only some of the gifts I got from you that I’m aware of. Each day shines a light on something new.

Your gift to me was your presence in my life and your ongoing influence. Thank you. I said this three years ago (A Special Birthday), and I’m saying it again: “It is in this that I find more reasons to celebrate the day of your birth than to solely mourn your passing.” Your birth presented me with so many gifts.

My gift to you is the life that you will continue to live through me.

Happy Birthday.

Does any of this mean I’m happy with all that has happened? No. I would definitely rather be able to look into your face and see the smile that even cancer couldn’t dim; but it does mean that I can find many, many positive and even happy things that would not have occurred if things had been different. I learned, also, that because I have no control over anything other than myself that I should stop wasting energy on futile attempts at control – something I hadn’t realized I did (at least not to the extent that I do).  

I’m pretending that I’m telling you this to your face instead of putting it out into the Universe this way (either way, I know you can hear me), and I can see your smile. It’s a little smug at first because you know you got through my thick skull, and then it just shines on me happily.

And I know just what you’ll say in response:

“Indeed.”

Strangers on a Plane (Friend-Working)

I have a new friend. We met a year ago today on an airplane. She was flying into Boston for work, and I was on my way home from a school reunion. We’d both dressed in our ‘plane’ clothing and had books to read, with no intention of anything other than keeping ourselves individually occupied during the flight (like most people do).

Somehow, we started talking. Then our conversation continued off the plane and into my waiting friend’s car until we dropped her off downtown. The conversation was an assortment of personal observations, interspersed with information on what to do in Boston.  If I hadn’t had to rush home that day, the three of us would have probably spent the afternoon together.  I knew nothing about her as far as the basics go (age, marital status, number of children, etc.); I just knew that we talked well together, and I enjoyed it. Before we parted, we exchanged Facebook information. I told her to take a picture of herself near a specific statue and post it for me before the day was over (which she did. Good girl!).

After that, there were the occasional comments on posts, the ‘likes’ and the random base-touching that everyone on Facebook shares.

Two days ago she was in town again. Through Facebook she let me know ahead of time in case we could get together. I picked her up from the airport and we got to spend a few short hours together in a whirlwind tour of Boston.  

How great is that?

At one point I thanked her for reaching out to me to let me know she’d be coming back, and we talked about how some people could consider it unusual to randomly take up with a stranger like we did with each other.  I think she said that even her husband was slightly surprised that she was making plans with ‘that girl she met on the plane’.

She is my friend.  I knew that almost as soon as we started talking on the flight last year. If her trips to Boston continue as annually as they seem to be starting out to be, I expect to see her each time she’s in town (I have her next two visits planned out already), and I need to start thinking about a trip to Minnesota (but not until the statue of Mary Tyler Moore is back up).

Who ever really knows what will come out of meeting or interacting with a person for the first time?

Friendship is often taken for granted; the first reason is probably because most of them begin geographically – who lives closest to you, or whose desk is closest to yours in class.  Then, friendships become almost situational, circumstantial, and organization-based – who you work with, people who share the same marital or parental status, and activity/theme/church-exclusive groupings.

After we ‘grow up’ we narrow those groupings further down by cherry-picking the people we want to spend the most time with and call only those people friends. We become regular in our habits and lifestyles, and even in those isolated relationships.

For some, friendship turns into responsibility, where it becomes conditional and based on how much time is invested.  Or, it becomes compartmentalized and sorted – like everything else in our lives – in order of importance.

It’s a shame that we forget how to play when we get caught up in our own situations. Do you remember how easy it was to just jump into play with another child at a park? As grownups, we forget how easy that was – or, how actually necessary it still is. We get so bogged down with life that we even forgo outings with friends for a night inside to relax, forgetting how much more we can get out of just playing. I know there have been many times that I’d made arrangements in advance with friends, yet when the night came up I “didn’t feel like it.” The result is always one of two things: I don’t go out and later on wish I had, or I do go out and realize “I should do this more often.”

We even whittle down our groups of friends. Do our friends have to be organized? Bounded? Limited? I find it funny that even on Facebook, where friendships take so little maintenance, that people feel the need to shorten their friends list simply because they have too many and they don’t talk to all of them enough. Too many friends?

There is no such thing as too many friends. If you know that it is really true that a smile can change someone’s day, then you have to be able to see the possibility of one distant acquaintance saying the right something to you at the right moment that has a great impact on you.

We become complacent in our friendships, forgetting how necessary they are until there is some major and unfortunate upheaval in our lives (like divorce or death) – it is only then that we realize how important it is to have friends around us, when we are looking for someone to lean on, and we learn that anyone can be a true friend.

Old friendships provide ground-bases and the comfort of familiarity; new friends provide new perspectives and experiences. Keeping some of them closer than others does not de-value the possibility of impact from those in outermost circles.

There have been so many personal habits adopted as good business tactics (establishing connections, proper greetings, maintaining contact, communication and even apologies). Making the business more personal will improve the business itself. The funny twist is that now these good habits have become largely business practices only. Business journals emphasize the importance of networking, developing contacts and interacting with as many others as you can to improve your career or business, but what about friend-working? Friend-working improves your life.

I don’t believe in coincidences as random occurrences; I believe that they are meant, and that every interaction with a new person is significant. I’m fortunate to have many friends in many different circles (and I enjoy mixing them up together). I have one friend I’ve known since high school; we’ve never really hung out, but we had a random hour together at a bus station shortly after graduation that I will never forget, and she will always be very special to me (I see her only very occasionally now); I have another friend I ‘met’ through a misdirected email – two years later I met her for the first time in person at my wedding, and now 15 years later with no face-to-face contact since (and no marriage, either), we are still very close.

(Don’t get me started on my ‘regular’ friends!)

You never know who is destined to be a part of your life, whether it be solely in the memory of the encounter itself or an actual, lasting friendship (even with limited contact). Their significance lies in the connection felt between you – and, yes, this can be simply a matter of situation and timing, of different stages each are at in life at the time.

Look around you. Smile. Talk to people. Anyone can be your friend.

Everyone can be your friend.

Even a good one.

(Thank you, Jennifer.)

The Man That Got Away

I have a playlist that begins with Judy Garland singing that song, "The Man That Got Away". The next song is always “One Less Bell to Answer” by Marilyn McCoo and the Fifth Dimension; the next song is always Marty Balin’s “Hearts”.  I started this playlist back in the days of mixtapes, before I even had any type of first-hand experience with good-love-gone-bad, and it segued its way onto my first mp3 player and onto my iPod now. Those three songs in particular – the staples of the list – have always drawn me in with that relatable sadness, even without the practical knowledge.

The man … the one ... that got away.  We all have one, right? That one demon, lurking behind the scenes, the one who the mere thought of can send your mind into a tailspin. You can be the most ‘together’ act on the planet, yet within seconds of contact with this person you are Sophie Fisher in Music and Lyrics (portrayed with painfully embarrassing precision by Drew Barrymore) when she runs into her old flame – an incoherent, babbling mess.

What is it about this person we’ve held onto? And why is it that the mere thought of that person can wreak such havoc with our minds?

As much as I’ve loved those songs my whole life, I resented most of the lyrics – it’s the same resentment I have towards everyone’s favorite movie line from Jerry Maguire: “You complete me.”

That’s not how it should be!! (I feel strongly enough about that to add two exclamation points!) I concede to a point that there is a certain romance to it, in the way that if you feel very strongly for another person that you know that they return the same depth of feeling – but to think that another person is needed to feel complete is actually quite sad. 

Feeling that way means that you will spend your life searching - for your own personal puppet master.  Life is about having experiences, and not waiting for ‘the right person’ to come along and give them to you. What if you never find that ‘right’ person? Will you settle for someone who’s almost right? How is it that we are made to believe that the quality of our lives is dependent on other people? In the name of love?

People grow and change on a daily basis (then again, some don’t); how is it that we feel the right to put upon someone else the responsibility of making us happy? Wouldn’t that restrict their own evolution?

The personal changes we go through that come about through experience can also directly affect a romantic entanglement, if the two aren’t moving at the same pace. Some relationships are only meant to be temporary.

I can hear many people arguing with me now that “if two people want to stay together, they will work at it.” While that statement isn’t totally wrong, it’s not totally right, either; not in the way that most people mean.

Love of any kind is effortless. You know that, because it happens that way. Can you really be specific in answering the question, “Why do you love - ?” Your answer is always a curious combination of reasons; however, if you took stock of the people around you that you care about you will find that you have pretty much the same reasons for caring about them – just in different amounts, but the person you ‘love’ always has one little element that you can’t quite explain, something that puts them in higher regard than the others. Did you have to work at that? No, it came naturally.

The ‘work’ a relationship needs is simple consideration for your partner - and that is how you need to look at the other: as a partner. Neither is 'in charge'. Whoever takes the reins in some instances cedes them in others, playing off of each other's individual strengths and still allowing the other to be his or her own individual. We are only able to provide this consideration for another if we have the same consideration for ourselves. This is why we must each be complete on our own. This is the element that makes relationships effortless. You can’t pour from an empty cup – that is work, and that is the ‘work’ people are really referring to regarding relationships, whether they know it or not. If you are not whole on your own, it is hard to be what makes someone else whole. Whether you desire to do that for them or they expect that from you, it is a heavy responsibility.

Have you ever known someone who changes like a chameleon with every new relationship he or she is in? That person is denying individuality and sense of self in sacrifice to 'the relationship'. That is also a measure of work, and eventually the effort it takes will become too much.

Happiness is a choice. It is for everything else; it is also a choice in a relationship – and that choice can only be made by each party in the relationship. You can’t sell anyone something they don’t want to buy; you can’t convince anyone of anything unless they already believe it on some level. If someone doesn’t want to be happy, they won’t be, no matter what anyone else does for them.

So, here I am. I know what I just said, and I believe every word of it. And there is still that … nudge of occasional melancholy when I think about that one. Am I unhappy? No. Am I lonely? No.  So, why, then?

I was talking to a new friend, one who doesn’t know me as well as others do and who does not know him. She said, “It’s because you’re human.”

You know what? That is not an answer I can accept. First of all, I’d already accepted my ‘human-ness’ when I admitted to being hurt by the end of the relationship (and, boy, was that a hard pill to swallow!); secondly, it’s really not an answer, because it still perpetuates the idea that it should be 'normal' for us to want to give our power away.

I believe that we are here to experience life, and that includes its polarity. I definitely got both sides of the experience! Doesn’t dwelling negatively on the past imply regret? I don’t regret the relationship. I learned a lot about myself then – and even more afterward. I can even honestly say that I enjoy what I’ve gained since then (even if the lesson hurt at the time).

I have this crazy, flip-side way of thinking occasionally, that questions whether or not my fascination with the ‘man that got away’ music could have actually drawn the experience into my life in some strange, cosmic way – I can picture my higher consciousness laughing at me, “Well, you asked for it!” 

(Although I have to admit that when it did happen, I was at an age beyond when I thought it would have! I guess I expected myself to know better when I was older.)

I do realize, too, that (because I am human) the lower, negatively-charged thoughts can spring up when I’m overtired, stressed, or hormonally challenged. Spiraling downward on a bad day or during tough circumstances is normal – another reason we need to keep ourselves happy all on our own to prevent the downslide from going too far down.    

My friend asked me if he knew I thought of him that way. I had two simultaneous thoughts: He has to know; I’ve made it painfully obvious and Does it matter? This is not about him; it’s about me!

I did give that question further thought, though; more from the perspective of whether or not I would want to know if someone felt that way about me.

Honestly, I don’t think I want to know. It would make me feel bad – or worse, it could make me feel pity.

That last thought was a slap in the face – I do not want to be pitied! Yes, my ego is standing straight up at that thought. I don’t deserve anyone’s pity – for anything. Especially not something that my ultimate happiness, my existence, doesn’t depend on.

If I am responsible for my own happiness, then it is not the thought of him that gets me down occasionally; it is something in me. If it is some kind of lack I am feeling, it is up to me to fill it, because it’s no one else’s job to do that for me. I do realize the freedom in knowing that, too.  

I’m actually more complete now. So, then, what did I lose?

“But fools will be fools…”

-- shut up, Judy.

We are not here to ‘catch’ other people.

And that means that no one 'gets away.'

So, I’m good.

(I still love those songs, though.)

(You should hear me sing them!)

hbr