taking chances – I'm too old for this …

discovery, inspiration, life lessons, realization, taking chances

fear of french and other imperfections

December 6, 2018 8 Comments

Parfait

Are you picturing the heavenly concoction made with creamy layers of luscious ice cream, stacked high in a fancy glass with a dollop of whipped cream and a cherry on top? Don’t. I am not referring to that yummy dessert, but the French word for perfect. Damn, was I still craving perfection? I thought I had kicked the habit along with sugar and wheat. Guess not, for there it is, tempting me again like a guilty pleasure.

I’ve always wanted to speak French and my daughter-in-law Parisienne generates additional aspiration. Taking classes in high school led me to try various taped programs over the years…stacks of cassettes, primers, and dictionaries leaving me with considerable understanding, but not enough to communicate with anyone. Which, after all, is the purpose of language, isn’t it?

Fluency requires a comprehensive program, yet each time I contemplated taking class, I was struck dumb. I couldn’t think, my brain scrambled then went blank, and every word that I ever learned in French disappeared entirely. Frightened to death, I was unable to open my mouth to say anything. So, why would an otherwise intelligent adult be seized by fear of a foreign language?

La Juge

Diving deep into my DNA and psyche, I remember that for me, being an intelligent woman was always conditional. I’m supposed to be perfect—both visually and cognitively. If looking good is paramount and I open my mouth and sound stupid, it makes me look bad. Therefore I can’t even try to do anything that may cast aspersions, so instead, I do what I’m good at. There’s no fear when you’re assured a favorable outcome.

If you excel at many things, you tend to lose perspective and forget that you’re limiting yourself. You may not even be aware that you’re afraid of a faux pas. How many of us are like that? I can’t be the only one halting life experiences dead in their tracks, refusing to try in avoidance of my inner critic. Because, let’s face it, very few of us actually get ridiculed by anyone other than ourselves anymore.

Once attaining a certain amount of confidence or enlightenment, we leave many of our naysayers behind. However, that inner judge received its’ training from the major influencers in our lives. Parents, siblings, spouses, teachers, or friends planted seeds in our brains that have flowered and propagated, becoming louder and stronger than any words ever spoken from their lips.

Some are beautiful, others horribly ugly, but they run our lives nonetheless. That is, until we have an awareness of them. Only then can we shut them up.

“I’ve made a vow to do things that scare me…take me out of my comfort zone…aren’t expected from me…to strip away pretense and embrace authenticity. Really, it’s time to live my life without restrictions and insecurities—self or otherwise imposed. I’m too old for that!”

That quote, from my very first blog post in April 2016, evokes my mission toward personal growth, taking chances no matter how much it scares me. And I have been, but was obviously unaware of my original default programming still running in the background. I need to close the window and update the operating system. C’est possible?

Nouveau et different

Reminding myself that the reason I wasn’t skilled at French was because I hadn’t learned it yet, seemed obvious, but not to my brain. The limbic system had shifted to high alert—particularly the amygdala, or emotion center, and the hippocampus, which forms new memories about past experiences.

What does that mean? I’m no scientist, but after reading explanations from a few of them, here’s my take on it.

We know that memories and emotions are stored in your body, which includes your brain. Any new experience will remind you of an old one; whether good, bad, or indifferent. That spark of recognition causes you to respond in a similar fashion to the last time you had it.

In order to push past an old emotion, you must create a new memory involving your current experience. When you notice an old negative response coming up, break the pattern by doing something different this time.

So as your stomach turns and the heat rises through your body until your ears burn and colors your face to match a Spanish onion, move forward anyway. Jump up and down, scream, laugh, call a friend…whatever it takes to thaw your pre-conditioned, frozen state of mind.

Then, take action toward your desire.

By doing so, you’ll change the synapse in your brain and whatever caused that fearful feeling will never be quite so painful again. The worst is over. You’ve proven to yourself that you are brave.

Many are so terrified of their feelings that they don’t get out of bed in the morning. Don’t let that be you. Focus on your goal, or how much worse you’d feel if you never even tried to achieve it, and forget about the terror. I’ve discovered that it gets easier each time. Really.

***Winged Victory***
**The Louvre Museum, Paris**

Courage

I finally submit my test to the Alliance, speak with the placement advisor, and register for classes that begin the following Tuesday. Stumbling through a few French words when requesting my course manuals made me flush (yep, Spanish-onion-red) and my heart pound, but I survived.

The first class and homework gave me vertigo, nausea, and a headache. My classmates also expressed anxiety, which, despite our distress, made me feel better somehow. By the third class, we could laugh at our errors and actually had petites victoires to rejoice in. I’m still overwhelmed, and expect to be for a long time to come, but have enrolled in the next semester and will continue on until I reach some level of proficiency.

Refusing to let my feelings of insecurity determine my actions, I’m focusing on my desire, approaching those irregular verb, gender, and conjugation obstacles with both confidence and doubt. Acknowledging my fear of imperfection and charging ahead in spite of it, seems to be an effective way to overcome it and heal.

La Fin Parfaite

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discovery, inspiration, life lessons, realization, relationships, taking chances

let go and move on

November 7, 2017 2 Comments

5 Lessons I Learned During My Life’s Most Difficult Situation

I had to let go of my husband. Not because he was cheating or lying, but because his illness and attitude changed him into a totally different guy, one who was unbearable to live with if I wanted to maintain my health and sanity. The two years of our separation have taken us through hell, but we are finally on good terms. As his health is worsening, it’s hard not to be pulled back into old patterns, but I know I must keep letting go and moving forward.

That’s difficult for me to report here, because once this posts, Robert will be reading it. I tried a million different ways to sugarcoat my words in fear of his disapproval or retaliation, but I got stuck every time. The words wouldn’t flow until they were honest and direct. I don’t want to jeopardize the recent truce we have negotiated, but I need to take the chance and let that go. If I’m not fully committed to telling my truth, how can I inspire you to tell yours?

Moving On

Well over a year after our separation, I left Chicago to get a new perspective on my life, driving cross-country to stay with my daughter and her wife in California. After a terrific summer with them, the voice of the Universe told me to go to Chicago to “clear things” and to stay “until it’s done.” I took that as a cue to return and empty the apartment in preparation for sale, but as it turned out, I was able to clear and let go of much more than my possessions. One of which was the animosity between Robert and I. Could be why the whole process took far longer than anticipated!

After three months of packing and purging in Chicago, I was headed back to meet the truck with my furniture and boxes in California. A week before my scheduled flight, Robert was informed that his leukemia had reached a level where chemotherapy was required and he was admitted to the hospital. My mind raced back to all those previous hospital stays — what had transpired during, between, and after them. I was distressed for him, but couldn’t help seeing it as a roadblock in my path to departure.

Make the Leap

Have you heard the story of the frog in boiling water? If you place her into a pot that’s already boiling, the frog will jump right out, immediately aware of the danger.

However, if you place her into a pot of cool water and then set it on the stove to boil, she won’t notice the water slowly getting warmer, it’ll feel natural and comfortable while the life is being cooked right out of her.

I had been living in a very warm pot. After Robert’s near death a few years ago, he returned home changed, “my guy” was gone. In his place was an angry man in a wheelchair that kinda looked like him. If he communicated with me at all, it was with harsh words. Nothing I said or did made it any better or led him to seek help. He was miserable and depressed and eventually, so was I. I knew I had to jump out of this, but my guilt immobilized me. How do you leave a man in a wheelchair?

I tried every form of counseling imaginable — traditional or otherwise. Each one helped me get clear on what needed to happen, but it was a tarot card reading that forced me to take the leap. Sometimes inspiration finds you in the most mysterious way.

Althea asked, “What is Laura’s present situation?” As the card was revealed, I could feel a blade pierce my heart and I burst into tears. I was that brunette in the red dress; bound, gagged, and blindfolded; living in a cage of swords. When faced with the image, I could no longer ignore what was happening to me.

Maybe you’re in a situation that’s “heating up” right now. Think about it — at home? at work? Conditions are less than ideal and instead of dealing with the problem now, you’re content to let it boil inside of you. What are you tolerating just to keep the peace or deny your feelings of guilt? Are you clinging to something you should let go of?

I could’ve, maybe even should’ve, stayed with Robert while the pot continued to boil, but chose to save myself and jump out. Taking the leap brought me closer to my true self and it could do the same for you.

Live Your Beliefs No Matter What

Living contrary to your beliefs can make you sick, whether you’re aware of it or not. If it seems right but isn’t right for you, then it’s wrong.

When a loved one affects you negatively, you’re in a difficult situation and certain to have conflicting feelings. After all, you love them. Doesn’t that mean you’d do anything for them? If they’re ill or going through a difficult time, don’t you put your needs on hold to guide them through it? You don’t want to make them feel worse than they already are, do you? You tend to remain silent, feeling guilty for even thinking about yourself and not putting them first. But do you want to wind up in the same condition as they are?

The internal conflict existed inside me for years. My life force was being drained, my health deteriorating, and my stress levels were to the moon. Robert’s bad attitude toward me and everything else caused me to examine the relationship and ultimately realize that even before he became ill, our mutual experiences were limited to those he was comfortable with. They were such great experiences, and I loved every moment, but my desire for a little more spice and adventure was never fulfilled. He wasn’t up for it then and now they could never happen.

I could surrender solely to his needs and limitations or make the difficult decision to live my truth. I chose the latter.

You can’t live a full and happy life with your truth silenced. If there’s a situation in your life where you’re silencing your true self to make someone else or society happy, it’s time for a deep internal dialogue with yourself to determine your next move.

Don’t Fall Prey to The Gratitude Trap

Being grateful for having something in your life doesn’t mean you can’t desire something else. Have you made gratitude a limiting belief? You can be grateful for your home, but still want a new one; grateful for your successful career, but still want a different profession; or grateful that your partner didn’t die, but still want to be more than a caregiver.

Robert and I had good years, we had bad ones. I wanted more good years but didn’t see how we could have them together. My speaking up included a great deal of yelling and crying, but has managed to “clear” much of our anger and resentment toward each other. Our relationship has shifted to one where we are separate, yet connected. I am grateful that I had the courage to act in my best interest. It will benefit both of us.

Are you happy or settling? If you’re not sure of the answer, it’s probably the latter. You have one life to live and it is too short to use gratitude as a guise to silence your ambition or wanting for more. Don’t settle for less — express thanks for what you have — then go get what you want!

You Know You Have To Go.

As difficult as it was to leave Robert lying in a hospital bed last month, I felt I had to get on my flight the next morning. I just knew that he would go through hell and then he would miraculously pull out of it. I had witnessed it oh-so-many times before and couldn’t watch it happen again. I was certain that it would kill my spirit and break my heart. So I left.

I checked in with him everyday, but one morning, a call came from the doctor. Robert had a bad reaction to chemo and ended up in ICU. I fought the urge to jump on a plane — to be there as I always had been before — for him. But at the same time knowing I had to stay right where I was — for me. I imagined nails hammered through my feet to ground me to the place I was standing and waited for the outcome.

Trust Your Voice — Always

Which, of course, was fine. As I knew it would be. I had listened to “the voice”. You know the one because you hear it too. It simultaneously tells you the things you want to hear and the truths you try to hide from. I have heard it many times before and have learned to trust it.

It is always difficult to let go of guilt, fears, resentment, anger, need for approval…and all of that conditioning we think we should do and feel, but it gets easier each time.

I will keep listening for direction and doing the things that are best for me and hope you will too. When you are coming from a place of truth, it’s also what’s best for everyone else…even if it doesn’t seem so at the time.

Get Your Free Guide — Letting Go — The Manifesto

Do you feel like you’re just going through the motions?

Feeling stuck without knowing why or the next step?

Join me and others on our path to discovering our true selves.

discovery, taking chances, travel adventures

test drive

April 19, 2017 20 Comments

My dad was letting me borrow the car so my girlfriends and I could go to a concert, a very big deal when you’re in high school. I had never driven downtown before and was beyond anxious with thoughts of pending disaster on the Dan Ryan Expressway and lower Wacker Drive.

Passing up exits, getting lost, or any mishap that would result in missing the concert altogether would incur wrath and disapproval from my friends. That just wouldn’t do. I wanted to be the hero and save the day.

I thought that if I could practice and get the lay of the land somehow, it would build up my confidence and abilities. GPS systems were only for aircraft and submarines in those days, but what I did have access to was a boyfriend with a car. I convinced him to navigate, letting me drive his car to and from the concert venue on the evening before the event.

An unusual date, perhaps, but off we went. Just to be sure I had the route down cold–knowing when to change lanes so I wouldn’t miss a turn and noting landmarks along the way–we drove it twice. The next night I aced it, of course, because

I already knew where I was going.

I’ll be on the road again at the end of April. The 28^th is D-day and I’m taking a brand new route to a familiar destination, inhabiting it as never before because eventually (drum roll here) I am moving to California.

Wow.

I’ve said it aloud, but never seen it in print before and this makes it very real, if not immediate. My apartment hasn’t sold yet, so there’s a lot to be done in Chicago before my final exodus, but I can’t pack boxes until it’s under contract and the anticipation is, to say the least, annoying.

Having paid attention to the nagging message from the Universe to “let it all go, Laura” I’ve been systematically and subconsciously doing just that. Now I’m sitting in the void waiting for…exactly what, I do not know.

The future was all planned.

I was on the road with a clear destination ahead. Familiar landmarks and signposts stretched out before me. I was happily married, had a successful business, and a great daughter, Danielle, who lives in California. Robert and I were going to move out there after retirement, so we bought a little house in Palm Desert for vacations in the meantime. She came down to meet us there for holidays.

Life was good, and then it wasn’t.

I had to let go of life the way I thought it was going to be. It was sad, it was painful, it was frightening, but it was necessary to my survival. However, once past the initial stages of grief, it became extraordinarily liberating and joyful. The way I’m doing things has changed as much as what I’m actually doing and everything is up for consideration or review.

Our house in the desert sold in February. I went to clear out personal items, art, and a few pieces of furniture, rented a truck and drove them up to Danielle’s home in Oakland. Road trip! Yes, that’s me in the U-Haul—a sight to behold and one I never thought I’d experience.

I not only made it, I had fun doing it!

The truck was surprisingly easy to manage and the daylong drive gave me plenty of time to be alone and think. Sometimes it’s very clear where you’re headed. Other times you won’t have an address to program into the GPS and you just have to drive around until you find a good place to stop for a while. Which is different than driving around for a while looking for a place to stop.

Life has an impermanence that I’ve only recently been able to appreciate. I don’t want to stop discovering new things everyday—about the world, humanity, or myself. Not even if it means that occasionally, comfort and familiarity need to be left behind in order to do so.

Ultimately, I’m not really sure what’s next. Chicago? California? Parts unknown? For right now, I’m gratefully accepting the invitation from Danielle and Anne to inhabit the suite at the end of the hall in their wonderful home on the hill. It is a safe haven and full of love.

When the condo finally does sell, it will take a concerted effort to empty it, which means an extended presence in Chicago to get that accomplished. Until then and even afterward, I will regularly fly back and forth to Chicago to see friends, family, and work with clients.

So I’m off!

With a trunk the size of a glove compartment and no backseat, I can’t take much along with me, but I’m packing up my little convertible with the essentials. I have the power adapter in order to plug-in my devices and I’m strapping in the cooler filled with organic food and water to ride shotgun. Files and business documents can fit into the trunk and other than an overnight bag, a few cartons of clothes are shipping UPS.

Headed west through the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and beyond, I haven’t planned the other stops. I’m open to discovery–along the highway, in my head, and in my heart; exploring all the possibilities.

Unlike my first drive downtown, I can’t try out life the night before. I have to experience it as I go along–speed bumps, crazy drivers, off ramps, missed turns, and all. Nothing guarantees that I’ll arrive at my destination on time or in one piece. If I don’t like it once I get there, I can choose another place to go. The important thing is: not to settle for anything less than happiness.

Life is a test drive.

You might be perfectly happy and then something shifts, so that life as you know it no longer exists. Time to get on the road again–recalibrate, change lanes, and take a different route.

I can do that.

I am the hero—and the heroine.

I am saving myself.

discovery, taking chances

speak out

October 4, 2016 14 Comments

My three weeks in Peru had been brilliant, intense…enlightening. I wrote about it prior to my departure (summer vacation) and after my return (lighten up), but many friends have asked for comprehensive details. It’s been easy to communicate the wonders of Machu Picchu or travails of traveling alone by bus, taxi, train, plane or llama to various towns and archeological sites–for even though adventurous, trips to these places are still somewhat conventional. Ten days at a shamanic retreat, however, is not.

Just as I was trying to figure out how to put everything into words, I received an email with a link to a YouTube video. I knew the woman pictured, so clicked on the link to hear what she had to say. When the page opened up, I noticed another familiar face in the queue below—mine. Startled to see myself looking back at me from the screen, I immediately chose that one instead. Watching and listening, I realized that I had figured out how to put it into words, but now that I heard them, was I ready to share them?

What’s it all about?

When I was very young, my outspoken, curious way of being was celebrated and enjoyed. Then it wasn’t. There’s no way that I could know that it had nothing to do with me, I was too young and unaware, but the affects were overwhelming. Most of the time I felt like a bother or just plain stupid. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, it never made a difference, so I figured I really was worthless and just gave up–making myself small, hoping parents and teachers wouldn’t notice I was alive and make me feel worse than I already did.

Being sure that you don’t know what you’re talking about makes you somewhat reticent to speak up, especially when your point of view is different than everyone else. When I dared to open my mouth to present another opinion, I was mocked and teased, so I learned to just shut up. “If they all think that is right, I must be wrong!” How could my thinking be so different? Perhaps I had been switched at birth—sent home from the hospital with the wrong family, or deposited on earth from another planet? Forget that I looked just like these people, I prayed that my real family would find me and take me home.

A seventh grade teacher shocked me out of my stupor by being wonderful to the good students and scaring the hell out of those who weren’t. I wanted some of that wonderful. Yes, she embarrassed me into consciousness. I discovered that I wasn’t stupid, just had to apply myself. After figuring out how, I made a concerted effort to do everything I could think of to fit in and get approval. Which is better than wanting to disappear, but created a new paradigm. Fitting in to gain approval didn’t always represent my point of view, but my conditioning told me that my views were wrong, so I conformed.

“Do whatever it takes”…

…Became my mantra and it has served me well. I have an incredible work ethic that I’m proud of, but it’s not enough. I’ve been on a quest for most of my adult life, slowly unmasking the perceptions and inner knowing that I stuffed down and buried inside of me–taking back my power and finding my voice. It has not been easy, it has not always been fun, but it has been rewarding. With each treasure that is unearthed, it confirms that I’m pretty terrific and have a lot to offer the world. My self-awareness has expanded and shifted. Serving humanity and me in a big way has become my priority and I’ve asked the Universe to help me figure out how to do that. I’m ready to step up, step out, and step off the precipice, fingers crossed. At least I think I am.

Back in April, I started writing my blog not quite knowing why, but knowing I just had to get the words out. Not just any words, but the words I’ve been unable to say, the ones that divulged more about me than I’ve been able to reveal; the words that express the part of me that has been locked away or denied because I was afraid of disapproval or rejection. I’m too old for that now.

And so…

I have decided to share the words filmed on the last day of our retreat. No more hiding. I’m ready to be seen without the mask of perfection, be it the way I look or the words I speak. After all, if I’m a champion for authenticity, don’t I have to exemplify it? In the video below I am without benefit of hair, make up and wardrobe, au naturel in more ways than one. Nothing written or rehearsed and all on the first take. I’m answering questions posed by the retreat leader, the delightful Carolina. So enough writing, it’s time that I speak for myself….

discovery, taking chances, travel adventures

lighten up

August 24, 2016 16 Comments

Yes, yes, yes! My trip to Peru was amazing. Beyond anything I had hoped for or could have ever imagined. I’ve been home for over three weeks processing astounding visions, insights, and realizations to see how they fit into my life…and I’ve just concluded that in many ways they don’t. My experiences were outside any reality that I have ever known and introduced me to a realm of possibility that requires my letting go of life the way I’ve been living it. Scary thought. In order to embody the shift that I’m feeling inside, as well as trying to make sense of it here, I’ve taken on the epic task of examining my pages and pages and pages of notes…

so I will start at the beginning…

It was the first thing I noticed once we got onto the open road—the way the light illuminated the mountains. I had just landed in Cusco, Peru by way of Dallas and Lima, in the backseat of a taxi on my way to Pisac. I was exhausted and could barely see straight after my overnight flight from Chicago, but this was so startlingly beautiful, that the light infused me. I used that jolt of energy to grab my phone and snap a few photos before settling into the long ride to my hotel, but when I checked them out the next day, none of the magic that I remembered was visible.

Pisac is in the southern part of the country, midway between the Pacific Ocean and Brazil. Considered the Sacred Valley, it’s very near Machu Picchu and is where my adventure begins. My first night there was a blur. Not only was I tired, but my body ached all over and I was developing a headache. Altitude sickness is very common in these parts and I had a full-blown case of it. The locals recommend coca tea as a remedy, but it wasn’t having any effect on me. To make matters worse, the hotel room was freezing and aspirin or meds of any kind were off limits. I was headed to a shamanic retreat on Monday and there are dietary restrictions that include foods, medications, and supplements. Other than the tea, the only treatment available to me was hot water and a bathtub. I soaked there most of the night to get some relief, but I was miserable.

Marginally better the next morning, I was determined to get out and go to the Sunday crafts market. I’m glad I did. The sun was shining on the mountains in that same special way. I tried my hand at photos again, but still couldn’t capture what I was seeing. The pictures looked flat and lifeless by comparison, the inner light was just not there. Delete, delete, delete. I did, however, catch this alpaca (or is it a llama?) in a courtyard of a home near the market. The scene made me smile and seemed absurd at the time, but compared to the visions in store for me, it was quite ordinary, indeed.

we’re off to see the shaman…

The group met in the hotel courtyard on Monday morning. An unlikely crew, from all over the world, but I knew that at the end of ten days, the experiences we shared would forever entwine us in each other’s stories. There are twelve of us, plus the organizers, Carolina and Pedro, who met in the jungle years ago when attending ceremony there. Having made a deep connection, they later returned to Peru to marry and make a life together, she from California and he from Brisbane, Australia. They live in a small town near Pisac with their daughter. Such lovely, caring people that you happily turn yourself over to their care and never worry about a thing. You know you’re safe.

Three of the couples brought their children along for vacation. There is a great deal of downtime to share and this is the first family retreat that has been offered. I’m skeptical about having three, two-year olds along and hope there are babysitters being considered.

The bumpy bus ride brings us to a lovely retreat center near Urubamba. Thank God! I can’t imagine doing this work in the jungle where conditions are primitive, bug infested, and uncomfortable–the ceremonies are tough enough as it is. The jungle healers are coming to us instead. The opening ritual, despacho, introduces us to a Q’ero holy man and his translator. Part of our diet, dieta, is coca leaves. Ingesting the extract of these leaves promotes clarity–something I’m hot on the trail of at this point in my life. He directs us to make two stacks of leaves and posit a wish on each leaf as we do so. We hand both piles to him as he blesses our wishes and adds them to his altar along with many other sacred objects. After much ritual, the elements of his altar are brought to the campfire as an offering to seal in the blessings–our hopes and dreams carried to the universe with smoke and flames.

Our Shipibo shaman arrives the next day. Maestro Adriano started working with plant medicine when he was eight years old, and began leading ceremonies at fifteen. Now in his fifties, it is impossible for me to imagine the sights and sounds he has witnessed during all those years of healing. Conversation isn’t part of these ceremonies, as he communicates with the medicine by chanting Shipibo songs, icaros, to activate its’ healing powers. Improbable, yes, but all I know is that as he made his way around the ceremony room, maloka, every night, the closer he came to me, the more I could feel it. By the time he was seated in front of my mat, I was in another world altogether.

I’ve seen the light…

It was in Amsterdam at the Rijksmuseum. We were on a tour with the Art Institute of Chicago and our small group was able to view the collection before the museum was opened to the public. My inclination was to run right down to the other end of the gallery to inhale Rembrandt’s famous Night Watch, but was sidetracked along the way by other treasures to be discovered and absorbed. A large group huddled around a very small Vermeer and disrupted my steady progress through the aisles.

The Milkmaid, Johannes Vermeer, 1657-58 — *The Milkmaid,* Johannes Vermeer, 1657-58

All the art books, as well as my instructors, spoke so highly of his work—about his distinctive technique that no one was able to duplicate. I’d look at the photos again and again and just not get it. So what, a view of a harbor or a chubby milkmaid–what was the big deal? (see for yourself on the right) I was always partial to Botticelli myself, but as the crowd parted and I saw the tiny painting, his mastery was evident at last. I felt as if the milkmaid was living and breathing right there on the canvas, that I could reach out with my finger to splash the steady stream of milk flowing from her pitcher. Vermeer revealed the inner light of her being as well as the morning sun–you just have to be there to see it with your own eyes so you can feel its’ essence.

be here now…

I wasn’t able to capture the inner light of Peru in a photograph because to see it in all its’ splendor, I had to be here in person. The metaphor wasn’t lost on me–it made me wonder what illuminating experiences were yet to come, the ones that require I be present to incorporate them into my being. When darkness fell on the valley and we gathered in the maloka, would my true essence and inner light be revealed to me? It’s why I did this work and what I came here for. The road I’m on isn’t as recognizable as one paved with yellow brick, but I feel it’s a clear-cut path toward enlightenment just the same.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYvs9cB3qVk

taking chances

jumping in

June 3, 2016 15 Comments

continued from “ready to take the plunge?”

It wasn’t only that I was too old NOT to know how to swim, but I needed to reconnect with that gutsy ten-year old. The one that jumped off the diving board totally trusting that she would be safe. She wasn’t afraid of anything—stood up to teachers, her parents, and the school bully. The last few years have beaten me down and I missed her.

My husband was critically ill; it changed him, it changed us. Even as his health improved, I gave all of my vitality to his needs and kept nothing for myself. One by one, activities and involvements fell away. I was afraid to even dip my toe into anything for fear of disaster…disappointment…drowning. I was tormented; barely had the life force to see a few friends or family members, to work, or get a little exercise. Anything I did took every ounce of energy I had, but I hung onto those few things as I would a life preserver– and they saved me.

I know I’m a survivor. I’ve been down before, but have always healed and come back stronger. Alas, the ability to begin the upward ascent usually doesn’t begin until I just about hit bottom. Well, I was there; it was time to “…raise my arms up”, resurface, and…

…get back into the pool.

Outfitted with my brand new swimming goggles and bathing cap, I was ready for anything. I was told the cap keeps the hair off your face (it does) and the goggles keep the chlorinated water out of your eyes (they do). Then I caught myself in the mirror. I don’t know what scared me more—the deep end of the pool or my reflection.

I grew up watching old movies, so I know my expectations were skewed, but this was a far cry from “The Million Dollar Mermaid”, Esther Williams rising from the water–flawless in a sequined suit, fancy hairdo, and false eyelashes. I suppose somebody might rock a skin-tight Kelly green bathing cap (the only one large enough to fit my head), but for me, hair is a much better look.

Get over the “pretty” thing, Laura; you’re here to swim.

Getting over that was part of jumping in. How many times have I not done something because I didn’t look just right? The voice in my head keeps after me, “Is your stomach flat enough? Your thighs could be thinner. Aren’t you embarrassed to let anyone see you like this?” Each time I head for the pool, I look to the mirror, deep into my soul and say, “Thank you for sharing, but please SHUT UP!”

Ok, so I’m a not perfect. I’m old enough to live with that now. If I were 30, 40, or even 50 I would have to wrestle with that demon before facing the other monster—gasp…

…deep water!

We were at the lake with another family. Their boat was a little offshore and somebody yelled for everyone to “come on!” so I dutifully followed instructions. I didn’t realize that the water was deeper than I was tall, and as my feet slipped out from under me, I began bobbing up and down. Everyone already onboard was dealing with my mother—who didn’t swim either (to this day, by the way). She was kicking and squealing as they teased about throwing her into the lake. Nobody was paying any attention to the four-year old me.

After swallowing what seemed like fifty gallons of water, I was pulled into the boat and that was that. Before I’d ever had a lesson, I was branded a non-swimmer, and accepted my fate unconditionally. After all, my mother was a non-swimmer so it must be all right—maybe even desirable. Amazing what the subconscious mind of a child will validate. It’s a miracle that I jumped into that pool six years later, or ever again.

Fast forward…

I’ve overcome the fear of my green bathing cap and the deep end of the pool. It wasn’t easy, but my teachers are kind, patient, and encouraging. The first time I swam a full length, we started in the deep end and I didn’t have the security of my feet on the ground. It took me forever to let go of the edge and push off, but I finally did it. I wouldn’t have felt more triumphant had I been Diana Nyad on her successful swim from Havana to Key West!

Learning to swim has given me the confidence to try other new things. The most significant being the things I’ve decided not to do anymore–things that I thought were important, things that I thought were me, things that I thought I had to do; all are re-evaluated on a daily basis. Not that I was living a lie, I really, really, really did things that I wanted to do. It’s just that by conquering certain fears and limitations; what I want to do has changed. Everyday is a surprise!

There is at least one constant though; I do wish I had that Esther Williams’ style…!

taking chances

ready to to take the plunge?

May 19, 2016 18 Comments

“Go ahead and jump, we’ll save you!”

There I was on the end of the diving board at Ridge Park Field House. It was a Brownie event, or maybe a birthday party and I was about ten years old. All my girlfriends were there and I wasn’t going to let a little thing like not being able to swim keep me from celebrating with the rest of them, despite my fear of the water.

I looked down to see Joan and Judy, treading water below the board waving and shouting at me, “Just put your arms up after you hit the water!” I looked around to see everyone nodding in encouragement, or maybe it was impatience, since I was holding up the line as I contemplated my fate. It was now or never. Do it or be forever teased, tortured, and branded a big chicken…

I’d rather drown.

What the heck–I held my nose, took a running jump, and cannonballed with a big splash–immediately sinking to the bottom of the pool. What had I done? Oh…dear…God! Just as I was beginning to panic, I remembered to raise my arms overhead and felt a push from beneath me. It was Judy, giving me a boost to the surface where Joan was waiting to help me to the side of the pool and safety. girl in pool image

Hoots and hollers from all the girls reverberated off the tile surfaces in appreciation of this miraculous feat. The chaperones were not at all pleased when they found out I couldn’t swim, and pulled me out of the pool as I sputtered and coughed up all the water I had swallowed.

I was elated. I had encountered fear; forged ahead anyway, and emerged victorious (translation: still breathing). I had trusted my friends and they came through for me. As I look back, I realize they did something even more important—they didn’t make me feel bad about not being able to swim, but cared enough about me to figure out a way to get me off the sidelines and include me in the festivities. So Very Nice. I will always hold a place for them in my heart.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the same warm feelings for the swimming pool.

Over the years I’ve had ambivalent bouts with swimming. I loved the water, but it still scared me to death. I went snorkeling in St. Croix wearing a life vest to keep me afloat, but couldn’t relax and trust it. I was so petrified that I didn’t see one fish or coral formation, just kept my eyes glued to the guide at the end of my line so I wouldn’t get lost.

I’ve tried “noodles” in the swimming pool. You know, those long foam tubes you can wrap around and tuck under your arms? Using one of those, I can paddle around with my head out of the water, but I feel like a toddler with water wings.

Finally, last fall I decided to do something about it. Enough with going through contortions, trying every device or technique to stay afloat and breath. I wanted to function under my own power, facing the fear, forging ahead, and emerging victorious once again.

Oh, and I would learn how to swim, too.

follow the continuing saga on my next post…