Garbage In, Garbage Out

"Fear is a terrible sensation, one we never, ever want to feel. How lucky we are to live in a time and a place where it's so often possible to avoid the things that scare us most: violence, disease, natural disasters, dangerous animals, and, at least until the very end, death. Instead, we get to sit around on our widening behinds watching television shows....about violence, disease, natural disasters, dangerous animals, and death."*


Photo: Botanical Gardens, Boothbay Harbor, ME


*Beck, Martha. "Be afraid....Be Very Afraid." O, The Oprah Magazine October 2011: 67.

Sixteen

I was washing some large pasta pots when, out of the blue, Frank said, " Do you remember when we bathed the kids in the sink?"

Where did that come from?

Yes, I did remember. Like yesterday.

I loved bathing the kids in sinks. They were so wobbly, not yet able to sit up. Their perfect skin was soapy and slippery and perfectly white without a freckle or blemish. They laughed and stared deeply into my eyes. They loved warm water drizzled onto their bellies. They lifted their feet in the air, wiggling their toes. Rubber duckie, bubbles, plastic sail boats floated with them.

Yes, I remembered.

Frank said this the first week of fall when my older son was entering junior year of college, now with some lines of experience on his face, and my younger son was entering junior year of high school, standing over six feet tall.

My younger son is sixteen and this summer, with all its glorious weather and joyfulness, was best for me in just seeing him bloom. I will always remember the summer of 2011 as "his" summer. He got his driver's license, first time out, and I got another gray hair. He got his wisdom teeth out. Last summer marked a lot of questions and changes. This summer marked a lot of becoming who he is. He blossomed. He became comfortable with who he is; he laughs; he is totally "himself" with his friends. From day one, he began driving to school this year, programmed the music stations he wanted, got an iPod adapter. He wrote a first paper on what he thought about walking into high school the first day as a junior. He said he was grown up now. He said, as he walked into high school this year, he was thinking he was half way through high school, of college, life thereafter, and jobs. Wow. Really? I would never have known. Great assignment, English teacher!

With his friends, they discussed how many freshmen there are this year. My God, it's like they're zombies, multiplying. It's like "zombie armageddon!" He mentioned that in high school, the central stair case becomes a mob scene between classes, a "crush." As he was routinely pushing his way through during that first week, he actually heard a freshman shout out, "I'm scared!"

But he's sixteen. Such a pivotal age. He is no longer afraid of the crush at the staircase; onward and upward. I need to get on this ride, buckle my seat belt, and get ready for the roller coaster of this important year in his life!

Worn Paths

"Maybe if I look at the paths I've worn, over and over again, I'll see that purpose show itself, the way cornfields create patterns I see only when I'm flying over them. Perhaps it takes some distance to see that path. At the very least, it requires a different vantage point."


Many people change their tastes as they age. They seek a new look for themselves or their surroundings; they change jobs; they yearn to travel and see new places; they leap into the unknown and try new challenges. But there are certain traits, skills, and attractions we have that seem to be inherent - built into our DNA. These have been present in us our entire lives. Although we may change something on the surface, the underlying trait or way of being is still present - that is the inherent quality that is the base from which all else flows and which is unique to us.

I am an introvert. I never learned of that word or what it meant until I was an adult. However, as I look back, I see the qualities and needs of introversion were present my entire life and I took certain paths to meet the needs I had not really knowing why I was doing them. For instance, I walked a lot, alone, when I was young. I studied alone, made decisions alone, shopped alone, exercised alone. I lived most happily in my own head. I wasn't a dorm-girl or go-away-to-overnight camp type. I was the kid who walked around the periphery alone to explore quietly. I could certainly participate and have fun with groups of kids; I just see now that those times had to be flanked by times alone to build the stamina to be able to function that way.

I grew up in a small home that was too crowded for my type....so I walked, far and long, in all sorts of weather since it was a daily need. I have always craved and enjoyed wide open spaces. I have always been a reader. Reading allowed me to be quiet and alone.

I am also a writer and have been as far back as I remember. I love the exercise and process of working things out in my head and then on paper. I love words. I analyze, instruct, question and come to my own conclusions through writing. I turned my back on my writing for half my life, but again, what happens with these inherent traits is that they don't leave you; they keep poking back out in various ways in your life seeing if you'll accept them and go with your inherent flow at some point. Paths I continued to take kept bringing me to the same center.

For you, it might be an inherent drive to help people, teach, paint, create or play music, or explore new things. If you think back on things you've done that have brought you joy or peace or felt so right to you, if you look at those paths and seek to see some similarity to them, you might discover your passion. You might discover your inherent ways of being. Just like wearing my hair to "go with" my cowlick, no longer trying to fight against it, is the right thing to do....so, too, is going with, not fighting, your true nature.

To help you find your purpose, look back from a high vantage point, and ask: What are my worn paths?



Photo: the White Mountains, NH

*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 173
www.lifeisaverb.net
www.pattidigh.com

Holding Tight / Letting Go

"While you're tightening the straps, ponder the wacky possibility that the people you're trying to save don't need saving."*




My 20-year old son arrived at our rented lake house to join us on our vacation and within the first hour announced that in two weeks, he'd be taking a road trip with a couple friends....to Milwaukee, Wisconsin via Philadelphia, New York City, and Chicago. Whoosh - the feeling of a punch in my stomach knocked the wind out of me. The calm and joy of several days into my vacation was wiped out in an instant and the tension rose to my throat.

For over a year, he has been dying for an adventure and craving a road trip.

"Why don't you fly to Wisconsin?" I asked.

"Well....because the road trip is the point....not Wisconsin really," he replied patiently.

Mind you, he wasn't asking me to go on a road trip. At twenty, he was courteously telling me his plans, clearly charted and ready to execute solo.

My husband and I are not good car riders. We're both poor with directions; I have a problem with my depth perception and use my air break too much whenever anyone else drives; we get impatient and antsy beyond a four-hour trip. We'd never attempt driving in a big city. Aggressive drivers make me crazy. We don't even drive in Boston if we don't have to - the train or bus is our preferred method of travel there.

My son and I talked out his plans, and I blasted him with all my concerns. He held firm.

It took me a day to mull it over, look at it from all sides. At twenty-one, I spent a college semester in London and traveled around Europe at a time when young people weren't doing any such thing. It was before computers, cell phones, or any communication outside long distance calls and letter-writing. My Mom was hosting a barbecue on the day Frank was driving me to Logan Airport to embark on my own adventure. I went out to the backyard to say good-bye. "Oh, are you going?" my Mom said casually. "Well have a good time!" I was leaving for six months.

Later, she told me, of course, she was nervous, but she didn't show it and that was the kindest, most expansive, most wonderful parenting trait she could have shown towards me. I got onto that plane for the great beyond, elated, and full of positive thoughts - no fear. And....that adventure remains one of the most joyous times in my life and one I'm so thankful I took.

The final argument in my head about my own son was that he could be in Afghanistan fighting a war; he could have gone into the army at eighteen like a friend of mine's son did. Let's keep things in perspective, I told myself. Let go. Let the man, no longer a boy, take a road trip in the U.S. of A. if that's the adventure he wanted to take. So I did....

...and upon his return, all smiles, his increased confidence emanating from his being, fun photos...I told him he had been right. And now that he had done that, I truly felt he could do anything. I told him I could and would let go. The three, with their GPS and iPhones, found their way halfway across the country and visited the sites that mattered to them. They were responsible, efficient, and 110% capable.

I don't need to tighten, and will even do damage if I try. My son doesn't need saving.




Photo: hummingbird at Loon Lake, Rangeley, Maine

*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 120
www.lifeisaverb.net
www.pattidigh.com

Dogs

I was bitten by two different dogs when I was younger than 7 years old... and it still troubles me to this day. It's marked who I've become. I'm afraid of dogs - have been since then. I wish I weren't. I so understand loving dogs, man's best friend. I get it. I yearn for it. I just don't have it. And I've read how dogs can sense when a person fears them and as you could expect, it makes them more aggressive toward that person. It's the whole energy-we're-emanating thing which I so believe in, so of course, they'd feel how tense and uneasy I am, and it would put the dogs more on edge, too. It's the perfect storm when dogs and I come together. If I go into a friend's home with five other people, the dog will always come to me. He senses something not quite right and comes to investigate.

Going away to the lake every summer is a highlight of my life. But....dogs come into play because, of course, there are a lot of dogs, loose, running around camps. As they should be. They're protecting their country abodes and enjoying getting out of the city themselves.

But, I need to roam. I'm not one to sit still and need to get outside each day and move. I cannot be corralled into a tiny place.

This past week, we were fortunate enough to rent the most beautiful lake house on Loon Lake in Rangeley. One morning, Frank and I headed out for a walk down the dirt camp road which smelled of pine and was lined with the most beautiful Indian paintbrushes, lupines just getting passed, and daisies in full bloom. A half mile or so up the road, at a rustic cottage, four dogs came bounding toward us, growling. Frank, as usual, got in the middle of them, tried to calm them (to calm me) and keep them occupied so I could pass unnoticed. These four were not falling for it. The owner of the dogs was sitting on his porch and Frank asked if he'd call them back.

He said, "Are you kidding me?"

Courteously, I said I had been bitten; I was afraid of dogs, would he please call them back so I could pass? He refused and told me to stop acting weird and they'd be fine.

I attempted to move forward, past memories and fears crushing my heart with each step. One of the dogs bounded toward me and I retreated. "No," I said to Frank. "I can't do it. Let's turn around."

Frank shook his head. He didn't want to turn around. He wanted, and believed it was our right, to walk further down the public camp road. I knew if I made it past, I'd have to come back, and I wasn't willing to do it.

The next day, I attempted to run 3 miles within the perimeter of our 1-acre property. Can you imagine how many loops you have to make to get 3 miles running around 1 acre?

I asked Frank about what mace would do to dogs - I never carried it for people or animals before and knew in my heart that wasn't the answer. After a day, I thought I had it all backward. I should carry dog treats, not mace. Be nice, not mean. (I'm not mean.) "Then they'd follow you," Frank said. Oh. Bad idea, then.

I relented. I tried to look from the camp owner's perspective wanting to let his dogs run loose in the country as they should be allowed to do. I pulled back. No hard feelings. It was my issue, and I seemed to be in the minority. I would find my own ways to roam, in a smaller fashion when in the country in unknown territory.

A couple days later, Frank was walking by the man's rustic camp. (He was out for a 6-mile run, but knew he needed to walk past the man's camp so the dogs wouldn't get all rowled up. It inconvenienced Frank, too.)

The man was again on his porch and shouted out to Frank. "Was that your friend the other day who didn't dare pass the dogs?

"That was my wife," Frank replied. "She's been bitten. Twice."

"Please tell her I'm sorry. I'll tell her myself if I see her, but I handled that very poorly. I was insensitive. I shouldn't have reacted that way."

I was so impressed. Both the dogs' owner and I, upon reflection, thought of the other and tried to view the situation from the other's viewpoint. I didn't pass the camp again on foot during our week, but I was comforted in how both he and I had learned something and were more civil and understanding of the other's perspective.

What a wonderful thing to reflect and be broad minded. I'm still afraid...but I can remain a believer in the goodness of man when he looks at issues from all sides.

Play

"The opposite of play is not work. It's depression." -- Brian Sutton-Smith


It is the season of play in Maine. For residents of other states, they may not understand that there is truly a season for play, a time for it, a time that it is a must. For people living in climates that are perpetually bright and sunny, there may be no distinction. It may be all play time...or no play time at all depending on the person, not the environment.

But, I think for people living in climates so dictated by dark/light and the weather, like us in New England, there is certainly a time for introversion and a time for extroversion. There is a time for work and a time for play. There is a time to hunker down and pull inward and then a time to throw your arms open wide and dance.

I find I get a little greedy in the summer, especially as I age, because I refuse to be inside on a sunny day. I will not be brought down or waste this precious time of light and warmth in places or with people that don't suit the karma of it. The sun seems to awaken and make some part of my DNA tingle inside and the river of my blood flowing through me seems to ramp up like white water, not the calm tidal pools that I experience in winter. My even keeled self becomes giddy.

And the most important thing I can do is go with it.

Happy summer! May you feel the rush of white water within you and connect with friends at get togethers, swim in the icy ocean, run soaked in sweat on a hot morning, smell the flowers, eat the fresh berries, and dance whenever you feel the urge!



*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 29
www.lifeisaverb.net
www.pattidigh.com

Everything is a Miracle

"There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle. The
other is as though everything is a miracle."
-- Albert Einstein*

I realize now that I've been blessed in that I didn't grow up and don't live my life with an abundance of money or "stuff." As a result, from an early age, I knew I needed to find happiness with simple things - going to parks instead of on extravagant trips, visiting sites I could drive to versus flying in airplanes, reading books to take to me to faraway places and to meet new people, finding beauty in the nature around me not at gorgeous man-made resorts. I've been blessed because it's brought me to nature. My free time is spent in nature exercising or just sitting and being, and as a result of being there, I notice.

We've brought friends to camps with us or on rides who talk and talk and never turn their heads to look out the car windows or at the mountains or the lake when they sit at the lake shore. They don't even seem to notice the nature. To them, possibly, nothing is a miracle; they don't notice.

Anyone who spends time in nature regularly looks at the world more as a miracle than not. When in nature, how can you not? An author has written a book of late about the "e-generation," our kids, and his concerns about how they'll turn out. He says that due to two things kids are being deprived - the myriad of electronics that are overtaking our lives and frightened parents that don't let children just be kids and be on their own but instead keep them inside where they're safe, controlled, nearby. He says that not spending time in nature depletes human beings in every way - physically, emotionally, spiritually, creatively. All the things that make up the totality of a person are being starved by not going to nature regularly. How will this generation be lacking due to this critical life force being hidden from them?

Those who see everything as a miracle notice; they make an effort to truly see the details. If you truly look at the intricate patterns within flowers or in spider webs, and they're all different, how can you not pause and see the miracle? How fortunate we are to be able to see all the vivid colors in nature. How can it not make you pause and wonder?

The way to see all things as miracles is to get into nature, look at the details, pause, get quiet and observe, just be. Turn off your electronics from time to time. Don't rush and be preoccupied with the busyness of daily life - get away to the greens, the blues, pinks, purples, oranges and the earth tones of the nature all around us. Notice. Breathe it in.




*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 176
www.lifeisaverb.net
www.pattidigh.com

Photo: Scarborough Beach