No Regrets

Today I received a survey from my undergraduate alma mater. It asked questions about the foundations taught there and whether they helped me in life today. At first, I thought that was so long ago, I have no idea; but, to my surprise I remember a lot. My experience had been great and challenging. I remember my professors and classmates. Indeed I learned a lot that I still use today. I learned how to do research, write nonfiction essays and public speaking. I also learned other skills such as keeping a budget and utilizing my time wisely. There was so much more to my college experience than academics. The final survey question was: “Would you choose this college again, if you had the choice today?” I answered absolutely. I have no regrets. I would recommend that my college to anyone. (The Master’s University in California)

Wouldn’t it be great if we could say we don’t have any regrets at all? Unfortunately, regret seems to be a part of life. Whether it’s due to difficulties in relationships, poor career choices, personal habits, or failure to move when the opportunity presented itself, we all have some regret. The bigger question is, what have we learned? Have we grown, remained the same, or degenerated. I certainly hope I’ve grown; I try to live with no regrets.

As some of you know, I have been a care provider for many years. It began with my grandchildren and eventually included my grandmother and my mother-in-law. My husband and I have been a part of “The Sandwich Generation.” That’s when you are sandwiched between generations as a care provider. We had our grandchildren and our parents to take care of on a daily basis making us the middle of the sandwich. While everyday was not an easy day, we tried to make sure everyone felt loved and seen. We worked hard to offer the best quality of life that was possible for our infirmed elders and for our growing adolescents. We never let wheelchairs or highchairs stop us from laughing with or loving our family. The blessing in that is now we can look back with no regrets.

I have shared things about my relationship with my mom in the past. Eventually, the whole story will come out. (lol) Today, I just want to share one incident. When I was in my late twenty’s my mother came to visit me in Arizona. It was the first time we spent time together in a number of years. She still lived in Ohio. At any rate, as we were standing in the airport for her departure, I heard a voice clearly say, “You need to make amends because you will have to take care of her someday.” Well, to some degree that seemed obvious, after all I am an only child, but for some reason this message seemed to hold a deeper meaning. I cried, I prayed, and I tried to define the kind of care my mother would need so I could be prepared. As you well know, there are some things you just can plan for. Since I don’t want to get off track from the topic at hand, I’ll just bullet point some live events:

  • Mom’s dad, my grandfather, had a paralyzing stroke
  • Her mom, my grandmother, was losing her sight to glaucoma
  • Mom experienced a double home invasion
  • We moved all of them to Georgia (my mom, grandmother and grandfather)
  • My grandfather died in a nursing home
  • My grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease

The day came when I knew my mom was in over her head. The stress of driving twenty miles to see my grandfather in his nursing home and taking care of my grandmother who was oppositional was taking its toll on her health. I realized if I didn’t step in, I was going to lose my mother too. My grandfather and grandmother were lost to me because Alzheimer’s had taken them away. I couldn’t stand by and let stress and exhaustion take my mother away. I needed to take care of her. The simplest way was to move her and my grandmother in with us. So, we sold our house (the house I loved) and she sold her house (the house she loved), and we bought the monstrosity we now live in. The grandchildren brought new life to my mom. She loved taking care of the baby while I dealt with my grandmother,

Maybe I’ll tell the rest of this story in the future. The point is, my mom and I have no regrets. We each took care of our loved ones to the best of our ability. We made decisions with their best interest in mine. The sacrifices we made allowed all of us to have a better quality of life. Now we live with the satisfaction that nothing was left undone or unsaid. There is no “wish I would have”, or “we should have”, or “if we could do that over” drama in our lives. We capitalized on giving everyone what they needed and some of what they wanted while giving ourselves permission to human. We ate cake, took vacations, celebrated holidays and holy days, ran a business, and nurtured our souls. It wasn’t easy, but it was living with laughter and love. I can honestly answer the survey question; I would do it all again.

The times I’ve had with my mom as an adult outweigh the hard times of my childhood. We’ve had so many wonderful trips and taking so many great pictures together, but more importantly we have survived many hardships together. At ninety-three she is slowing down. Dementia is knocking at the door. Mobility was modified by a stoke this past December. Still we’re taking a trip in July and looking forward to making more fond memories. We’re still too busy living to have regrets. I can tell you, I’m so thankful for that voice telling me I would have to take care of my mom. The reality is we take care of each other.

While I was working on this blog, I dreamed about death one night. I woke up thinking how regrets torment people when a loved one dies, and death can come at any time. Things left unsaid, unresolved conflict, or a wish that things had been different lead to regret. We have a chance to change all that while everyone is alive and breathing. Express love, forgive, find closure, do a good deed, extinguish your pride and live without remorse. That’s one less burden you have to carry. It’s just another game of “Show and Tell.” “Live, Love, Laugh” can be done, it’s a personal choice.

Mom and I enjoying our vacation

Don’t Just Show – Them Tell Them

All my life I’ve heard the saying, “Actions speak louder than words,” but I beg to differ. Actions only speak louder when I understand the meaning of the action. When I was a child, I thought my mom didn’t love me. I tried everything to make her love me. By the time I was a teen, I gave up on her love and began seeking love from other sources. Unfortunately, I thought love was tied to the words, “I love you.” If the person said the words, I didn’t require them to show me anything. It wasn’t until I was fully grown that I understood all the things my mother did for me was because she loved. She worked hard, often overtime, to make sure I had everything I needed and a few of my wants. She avoided relationships with men that she thought might have been harmful to me. She lived with her parents to make sure I had family support when she was away. She allowed me to participate in dance, gymnastics, basketball, and traveling choirs at an expense to the household budget, not to mention sending me South every year to keep me away from street gangs. She made and remade my clothes so that children couldn’t laugh at me. She took the time to style my hair, so I looked like an African princess. These were all the actions of her love, but I didn’t understand the actions when I needed it the most. How different my life choices would have been if I had only known she loved me. I needed the words to define the actions.

As an educator, I know that children need the words, “I love you,” to go along with the actions. Otherwise, when they hear the words, they may fall into the trap of manipulation and exploitation. Many parents today, like my mom, work hard to make sure their children have cell phones, video games, and the latest fashion. They take their kids to fancy restaurants, to movies, and concerts. Kids have tablets, TVs, and video consoles in their rooms and some of their parents think they are ungrateful. Children aren’t necessarily ungrateful, but they may feel entitled. The more we give, the more they want. All the things aren’t communicating love. It may communicate competition with the neighbors or family friends. It may communicate parents have money and means. It may communicate their rights as a child especially in today’s economy. It may even communicate, “we’re better than everybody else.” If we leave it up to the kids to define our actions, they may not define it correctly. Yet there are children who receive little or no commodities unaware of their true economic status; they seem to thrive on the hugs and expressions of love from their parents’ (and teachers) mouths.

As much as I don’t want anyone I know to call me by the “pet names” of my childhood, those names expressed love. My great grandparents had a different name for me than my grandparents. My aunts and uncles had their own nicknames for me too, but my mother called me by my birth certificate name, Patricia Ann. People always said they could tell when they were in trouble when their parents called them by their entire name. So, I guessed I was always in trouble with my mom. My relatives with the nicknames for me told me all kinds of stories, some made-up and others from their life experiences. We laughed a lot and hugged a lot. My mom read stories from books and insisted that learning to read was key to a good future. So, I learn to read, “See Jane run. Run, run, run Jane,” at the age of three. My great grandma let me sift the flour and stir her cake batter while using encouraging words even when I made a mess. My mom chased me out of the kitchen because I was in her way. I learned to cook from Betty Crocker’s cookbook and long distanced calls to my grandmother. Of course, I know these comparisons are skewed now, but as a child I didn’t know; I couldn’t understand that mom’s actions were expressing the same love as my other relatives only in a different way.

When I was in college my roommates and I would have this play argument. They were Math and Science majors, and I was an English major. The question was, “What came first math, science, or English?” I would always say, “English, because “In the beginning was the Word.” (John 1:1) “God didn’t create anything without speaking and He didn’t mention multiplication until the 3rd chapter.” (Haha!) We would laugh and continue this pretend argument whenever someone was too excited about something they learned in class. When a child is born the words generally come easily. We love every little finger and toe on our newborn. We tell them how much we love them and what dreams we have for them. We coo and we sing to them, but as they get older the words stop. Our actions may multiply; we may even get creative with our time and our money, but the words become assumptions. We assume they know we love them. We assume they know all that we are working for and working with is for them. We assume that everything is fine as long as no one is complaining or asking for anything, but the assumptions are wrong. This applies to spouses, elder members of our families, and especially our children. Love cannot be left to assumptions.

It’s time to play “Show and Tell.” When a child draws a picture for you, they want to tell you about it. When a child gives you a flower (even the top of a dandelion weed) they want you to know they picked it for you. When a child brings their favorite item to school for Show and Tell, the best part of this time together is for them to tell everyone all about what they brought. As a teacher, I can always tell when a parent gave the child something for Show and Tell because the child can show but they can’t tell us anything about the item. It may mean something to the parent, but it doesn’t have the same meaning for the child. So, we can’t just show, we have to tell. Tell your child why you work so much and so hard. Tell them why you bought them that toy or game. Tell them that you love them, but you’re just too tired to play. Offer to hold them or hug them just because you love them. Tell them stories from your childhood so they can identify with you on another level. Tell them the dreams you have for their future. Tell them you love them even when the answer is “No.” Take the time to show them how to do something and don’t forget to use your words. These kinds of Show and Tell events can make a lifetime of difference in their lives, in the choices they make, and in your future relationship with them. Don’t leave any room for misunderstandings. “Show and Tell.”

Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

Don’t Just Show Them, Tell Them. Deepen your relationship with every generation. Peace.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

The other day I was listening to an old Aretha Franklin album, and the song “Respect” really stuck in my head for some reason. (There are two versions of the song “Respect,” the original put out by Otis Redding and the revised version by Arthea.) The first thing that came to mind was that ever-popular argument about whether respect is earned or simply given and expected. Yet, I couldn’t help thinking about how much we need a little more respect in our world. Of course, Ms. Franklin was singing about getting a little more respect from her man (by the way he treated her) when he came home, and I guess that where respect should start – at home. Certainly, respect between parents and children, the elders and the young, and yes, husbands and wives are important as it relates to human dignity and regard. That means everyone deserves a little respect.

I wonder do we all agree that using foul language is disrespectful. When adults use curse words when speaking to children, they are destroying any reason for children to show them respect. Actually, they are teaching children how to be disrespectful by example. What happened to the days when adults were careful about what they said in front of children? For that matter, what happened to the days when you couldn’t hear people using foul language on television, radio, or other forms of media? Now, it’s like punctuation at the end of every sentence. Perhaps foul language is so prevalent in our society today that we all think it’s normal and appropriate. (Sad, but probably true.) Unfortunately, foul language isn’t the only problem.

My personal pet peeve is familiarity. My mom is in her nineties, and it bugs me to no end to have some customer service person call her by her first name as if they are friends and contemporaries. Worst yet, they may say “momma” as some form of respecting her apparent age. No “Miss” or “Mrs.” and no request or permission to use her first name. Even white-collar professionals such as doctors and lawyers address their perspective clients by their first names without asking permission. In my world that’s disrespectful. My children (adults now) and my grandchildren have been taught to address people by titles especially if they are older than them. Even familiar family friends are addressed as Mr. or Ms. along with their first names such as Ms. JoAnne or Mr. Robert. This is simply a matter of respect and common courtesy until a person invites you to use their first names. I know, that’s just plain old-fashioned, but how we address one another is important. I never thought I’d live in a world where it’s okay to address someone as the “B” word, or as a whore. This is prevalent with our young people and in today’s music and drama. It’s no longer just familiarity, it’s disrespectful.

Unlike Aretha Franklin’s song, I don’t demand respect from anyone. I simply treat people the way I want to be treated. I use my self-esteem to esteem others. I am mindful of the circumstances and surroundings I find myself in, and considerate of the people sharing that space. As I teach my students, formal situations call for formal language. Casual situations may allow for code switching – informal language – depending on how casual the situation is. (This can be applied to dress as well.) In business situations, I address people by title or last names unless directed by them to do otherwise. I avoid nicknames in public places. I relinquish my seat and my place in line to obvious elders with regard for their age. Even in anger, I try to maintain a level of respect for myself and others. That’s really where it all starts, respect for oneself.

During the spring my middle granddaughter broke off a relationship with a young man. She said the young man called her out of her name and even though he apologized, she was done. When I asked her why. She said I have too much respect for myself to allow someone else to degrade me. Wow! I was so proud of her in that moment. We should be respectful enough that we exude respect both for ourselves and for others. Perhaps this would lead to more respect in our world.

Hears and AI Overview –“Respect, at its core, means treating others with consideration, valuing their opinions and boundaries, and recognizing their intrinsic worth. It’s about acknowledging their individuality and accepting them, even when you disagree with them. Respect also involves showing consideration for their feelings, even when you don’t personally agree with them.”

R-E-S-P-E-C-T” I know what it means to me, but what does it mean to you? Do you think we could use just a little bit more from our governmental and educational leaders? Do you think we could use a little more in our “Beloved Community” and among our young people? What about when you get home? Let me hear from you, I’d love to know what you think.

Be safe, be vital, be at peace, show respect, enjoy the music.

National Poetry Month

Since April is National Poetry Month, I thought I would share a few original poems with you. I hope you like them. Feel free to comment.

Human Perspective

Juniper trees
Weeping Willows
Pine cone dropping
Hawks soaring
Below floating clouds
A tiny black ant
On a daffodil bud
Reflections of life
Perspectives we see
But still donโ€™t know.

Tribute to Marcus Allen

โ€œLord, I keep so busy serving my Master,
Keep so busy serving my Master,
Keep so busy serving my Master,
Ainโ€™t got time to die!โ€ *

Of course, we ainโ€™t got time to die,
Singing these songs in the junior high chorus 1
Ainโ€™t nobody thinking about dying.
We got too much living to do – graduation,
High school, college, romance, make some money,
New clothes, new shoes, a car โ€“ No time to die!
We got to show our parents and our teachers
We got a future thatโ€™s better than theirs, so we
Gonna keep so busy working for ourselves
Until Marcus gets killed on his paper route.
Stabbed multiple times for the money he collected.
Never to sing โ€œSweet Little Jesus Boyโ€ ** again. His
Beautiful soprano subtracted from our harmonies
Now filled with tears and disbelief. The songs
We sing take on new meaning.

โ€œCouldnโ€™t hear nobody pray,
Couldnโ€™t hear nobody pray,
O Way down yonder by myself
And I couldnโ€™t hear nobody pray!โ€ ***


*Negro Spiritual by Francis Hall Johnson
**Christmas Song by Robert MacGimsey, 1934
***Negro Spiritual by J. W. Work, 1940

Adoption Party

He ran right up to me
Bright eyes, crooked little teeth.
Tapped me on the leg and said,
โ€œCome and see!โ€
Before I could answer,
Off he ran, leaving my heart
To wonder, โ€œIs this my son?โ€
So many children running all around.
All ages, all sizes, filled with energy.
Yet, I could still hear him
Above every sound.
Balloons popping, children screaming,
Workers trying to get everyone to
Settle down.

โ€œWe have to find him!โ€ is all that I said
We wandered in search
Of this four-year-oldโ€™s head
He had stolen my heart
To my husbandโ€™s surprise
We had found the one child
One face, one smile,
Amid so many, he walked right up to us,
A toy truck in hand, pulling my husbandโ€™s pant leg.
โ€œWhatโ€™s your name?โ€ I managed to say
He simply replied, โ€œCan you please play?โ€
He sat right down at our feet, spinning the wheels
And we joined him there. This is where a new life
With our son began.

More poems by Patricia Boyd-Wilson

Before Hindsight

In our family someone always says, “Hindsight is 20/20,” meaning you can see things more clearly after the fact. While you are in the middle of certain situations and circumstances you may not be able to analyze the value or the significance of an event. This is especially true when emotions are high. Hindsight can help us to see and potentially understand all components of the event as well as the players and their contributions. Usually, it’s during hindsight when we gain real knowledge and potential explanations that aids our character and earns our acceptance.

Death of a loved one is often one of those hindsight conundrums. My grandfather held my hand and called me by my childhood nickname the last time I saw him at the nursing home. I realized later he was telling me goodbye. At the time I thought it was unusual, and I wondered what made him use that nickname. It had been years since I heard it and never once in my adult life. Also, it was odd for him to reach for and hold my hand. We (my mom and I) attributed to some weird sense of sentimentality, but looking back I’m sure he was expressing his love for me and saying goodbye. How I wished I had comprehended that in the moment. I would have hugged him and told him I loved him too. I had missed an opportunity because he died two days later.

This event and several others got me to wondering if I could prompt hindsight to happen sooner, better yet to have insight to happen so I wouldn’t have to wait for hindsight in any form. Would it be possible to take a step back and understand the significance of an experience within the timing of the event? Can we stop multitasking in our minds long enough to be truly present in every situation?

Our level of being plugged-in all day every day is causing a disconnection in our relationships and experiences. We check our text messages while holding a conversation with a friend or coworker. We listen to a podcast while driving through the school zone. We type emails or watch news reels while sharing lunch with a colleague or a family member. We mentally review our to-do lists while attending a staff meeting or a social event. We are rarely truly present anywhere or during large parts of our day. We aren’t even able to draw insight from hindsight because we can’t fully recollect a single encounter. Everything is muddled and it’s hard to recall the who, what, when, where, and how of a past event. Like that day with my grandfather, there is no telling what I was thinking about at the time. I’m not sure I didn’t have my phone in my other hand. I have no idea what was said just before that moment. I can’t tell you if nurses, orderlies or other patients were present. All I really remember is him eating the coconut cake we brought him and at some point, he took my hand and called me Squeaky. Why wasn’t I fully present? I do not know.

Now I find myself asking what’s going on here; what’s happening here. I try to take the time and the initiative to look people in the eye when they are speaking. I make an effort to put my phone on mute and away during meals and social gatherings. I check my emotions as well. It’s important to know how I’m feeling’ what am I bringing to the situation emotionally. For example, if I’m already angry about something it may not be a good idea to have a serious discussion about my current project. The anger may flow over into a new situation that has nothing to do with the current topic of discussion. Sometimes I have to make a concerted effort to put other matters on the shelf for a later time.

There’s a little praise song we used to teach the children, it says: “I command my hands to praise the Lord, I command my feet, to praise the Lord, I command my mind to praise the Lord . . .” Being present is like that. I have to call myself to be present by commanding my ears to hear and listen, my eyes to notice and observe, my mind to stay focus on the now. Chock this one up to my writer’s weirdness, but I like to call my senses to participate as well. You know how a smell can carry you back to an occasion or a person, our senses come into play when we are fully present. There was a time when these things could be taken for granted, but not today. Today we must be more intentional – more mindful and more attentive.

Hindsight is definitely informative at times, but we cannot discount foresight and insight. Active listening, attentiveness, and elevated senses can increase our ability to see and understand what’s happening in front of us. Our vision will not be dependent our ability to replay an event. Afterall, the nicest and best gift (present) we can give or receive is someone’s presence.

“I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing!” Try commanding yourself to be present. Start with your family and friends, then extend it to your colleagues and community. Peace.

Substitute Dad
He was my motherโ€™s father, but my daddy most of all
Whenever I went to him, he gave me his all.
Tall and strong and funny too,
In my younger years, he replaced you.

In the house, he baby-sat
And sometimes he took me to the track.
I couldnโ€™t have asked for a better dad
Even though I wasnโ€™t the only grandchild he had.

He called me โ€œSqueakyโ€ as his pet-name
And gave me things Mom thought was insane.
He embraced my dreams and gave me his time
When I cried and screamed, he didnโ€™t seem to mind.

Year after year, he was present and available
His love, his strength, his tender loving care was so dependable
I learned from him love unconditional
You see, his love was never provisional.

Yes, itโ€™s true, he spoiled me
By being the best substitute dad, he could be.

In memory of John โ€œDaddy Kirkโ€ Boyd

The Far Away Place

Have you ever found your body present in a location and yet you felt far away? I don’t just mean your thoughts are far away from the position of your body, but all of you feels at a distance from everyone and everything around you. It’s almost like you are watching yourself from another dimension. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately – far, far away. Sometimes I see myself moving from project to project or room to room without making a connection with anything around me. This could be compassion fatigue. It could be a defense mechanism or perhaps it’s depression. Maybe it is simply an emotional disconnect to protect myself from the next harsh thing, but it feels like a distant place.

While I was away, I worked on writing and finishing my latest book of short stories and poetry, Talk from the Family Tree. (It’s in the editing process now.) I also worked in the classroom with my elementary school students, my GED students, and my Life Class participants. I’m not sure how much of this was ritual and habit, and how much was innovative teaching. There were days I tried to zone out at home on video games or TV shows such as holiday cooking contests. I prepared meals for the family, petted and walked my dogs, washed clothes, and read a couple of books. Still, I felt absent and far away from every task. I was moving along the continuum of my life without truly participating in my life. I missed my blog, and I missed my friends. I also missed loving routines and conversations with my family. The only thing I was truly able to focus on was crocheting. I made a lap mat for a friend’s birthday, and a loop scarf for a holiday gift. Now I’m working on a winter scarf and hat.

Crocheting forced me to concentrate on the stitches and the number of rows needed to complete the items. It takes my mind off worrisome issues like critical health issues of family members and the death of a legacy member of our community. Crocheting is a land of double crochet, single crochet, turn begin new row. Yet, I would use up a skein without realizing it and have to pull some of my work out to add a new skein. I was always shocked that the thread ran out without warning. So, I guess I wasn’t fully there either.

Perhaps these feelings of being far away was just wishful thinking on my part. Sometimes I bring up some soothing instrumental jazz on YouTube with a warm cabin scene and a picture window to watch the rain or snow fall. There would a fireplace and a cup of coffee or hot chocolate on the table along with an overstuffed chair or couch. The fireplace and window are my favorite parts. I could easily picture myself sitting there enjoying the solitude, the scenery, and the music. These times are so peaceful I can feel myself relaxing just thinking about them. They remind me that the faraway place does exist and may be only a cabin rental away.

Some people would describe this state of away-ness as melancholy. According to the Oxford Dictionary, melancholy is “a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.” While the Free Dictionary and the Merriam Webster Dictionary describes melancholy as “a gloomy state of mind, characterized by depression of spirits and dejection.” In ancient times melancholia was treated by bloodletting baths, exercise, and diet. Attempts were made to relieve the body of too much black bile. Some even theorized that melancholy came from the supernatural realm such as ghosts and demons. In that case a hole was drilled in the person’s head to release the evil spirits. Today, melancholy fits into a broad field of mental illnesses and is treated with talk therapy and/or antidepressants. While I am not a doctor, I know that research is ongoing to fine the cure and causes of major depressive disorder. Depression can stem from biological, psychological. and socio-emotional factors. No two cases are necessarily alike. Thank God we live in a time when the stigma is dying out and therapee is more readily available.

Am I depressed, or experiencing melancholy? I don’t think so. At least this does not feel like the bouts I’ve had with depression in the past. Maybe I just need a vacation from the rat race. Or perhaps I need some respite time away from being a caregiver, a teacher, or the “go-to” person. Perhaps I need to reinvent myself again. I do miss having my own business and calling my own shots. For certain, I need my Sabbath rest; being on 24/7 is not good for anyone. We’ve allowed multitasking and being connected to technology to take over our lives eliminating our time to renew, rest, and reflect. We need to give ourselves time to just “be.” I needed time to just “be.”

I am learning to allow myself to just “be.” I don’t need to over analyze my state of being, nor do I need to seek immediate changes in my lifestyle. I can simply trust my circadian rhythm to regulate the function of my mind and body. Intuitively and internally, my body and mind know when I need to rest, when I need nutrition, warmth, and natural light. Through the years I have learned how prayer and nature soothe my soul. I can rely on the Holy Scriptures to center and ground me when tests and trials challenge me. So, it’s okay to allow myself to retreat to the far away place until I’m ready to fully engage and connect to the here and now again. Afterall, I am still functioning in the present while my heart and spirit are shielded by the barrier of tranquility in a distance dimension. This is my coping mechanism nothing more, nothing less.

How do you give yourself a break from harsh realities? Do you meditate, exercise, go to a retreat center, call your parents, read poetry, cry in your bubble bath, or speed down the freeway like a race car driver leaving your troubles behind? How do you cope with unpleasant things and high demand? Do you see your therapist? Do you physically remove yourself or mentally disconnect? I would love to hear from you.

Shalom and Happy Holidays and Holy Days.

PS: Here’s a couple of titles you may enjoy reading:

Protect Your Peace

Not too long ago I was talking to my oldest granddaughter about some family matters and was suggesting she get involved. She surprised me when she said, “No thanks I have to protect my peace.” When I asked her what she meant by that she explained how certain situations and people sabotage your peace by making their issues your issues or by creating drama where there should be no drama at all. That conversation made me evaluate my boundaries. Was I protecting my peace or giving others permission to take it away.

These days peace is a precious commodity. There is so much chaos in our world. Admittedly, some of it is people creating unnecessary drama and some of it is the result of community trauma. The source of the loss of peace can be the daily news broadcast or unfounded theories and speculation about the future by religious leaders. Gossip can be a peace thief as well as worry and anxiety. General bad news about the economy, politics, the housing market, the educational system, food contamination, and automobile call-backs bombard the walls of our peace. Family or personal illness may be the culprit as well. Still, it’s really up to us to protect our peace. It’s up to us to determine what things we allow to reside in our minds and rob us of our peace. We choose the importance of an issue, and we choose the exposure we want to have to peace disrupters.

During the worst days of the Pandemic, my mom became an avid news watcher. The things she saw on TV upset her terribly. Sometimes she thought the repeated stories were new events and that made it worst. I asked her to stop watching the news so much and to watch things like cooking shows and game shows especially before bedtime. The daily local and world news was affecting her sleep, her appetite, and her general peace of mind. There seemed to be nothing but bad news. There are many people who act like the news broadcast, they are the source of bad news in our lives. Whenever you see them or talk to them, they have nothing but upsetting news to report. Their media feeds are filled with it; they have negative opinions about everything. They have the same effect that watching the news had on my mom and we must choose to turn them off.

It may be hard for you to think about cutting people off, especially family members, but healthy boundaries create healthy lives. Our minds can only take so much stress before it takes its toll physically and mentally. That’s why setting boundaries in relationships is important. We should set our expectations when interacting with others, as well as they should set their expectations for interacting with us. This will ensure our physical and emotional comfort and clarify individual responsibilities in the relationship. For example, I refuse to discuss politics with anyone because political discussions have become so divisive. This is my personal opinion and my personal choice. I do not ask others to follow my preference, I simply let them know where I stand and quietly bow out of the conversation. I cannot be prodded into joining a conversation about politics. If my boundary is not respected, I physically remove myself from the company of that person or persons.

Sometimes protecting your peace means using what you already know about a situation or an individual. If you know certain people like to keep confusion and chaos going, avoid their company. If you know someone whose pastime is arguing. Avoid group conversations with them. Avoid having to be defensive in relationships and don’t be afraid to tell people about your boundaries. You don’t have to offend them or ask them to change. It’s really about you and not about them. They are allowed to be who they want to be. You can simply say, “I would rather not have this discussion.” Or “Please excuse me I have to leave now.” Or “thanks for the invitation, but I won’t be able to come.” We can find creative ways to protect our peace.

I would be remised if I didn’t also say we should hold close those people and surroundings that bring us peace. Certain people and places make you feel comfortable and welcomed. Around them you can be your authentic self, and you know they are being authentic with you. Or perhaps there’s a place that calms your spirit and bring back that peace of mind you long for. My best friend is one of those people. We can talk or not talk when we are together, it’s comfortable and we have genuine love and respect for one another. We can enjoy many things together because we have similar likes and dislikes. I’m peaceful in her presence. Most of you know my go to place for peace is the river or the ocean, but truly any source of nature brings peace to my soul. I have my desk facing the window so I can see the trees and the birds in my backyard (and the creek waters in the rainy season). So, it’s not just about blocking boundaries, it’s also about opening boundaries to let the right things in.

Do you have peace in your life? Are you the source of confusion and chaos or is it another person or group? Is your peace important to you? Do you savor peaceful moments? Do you know how to protect your peace? I would love to hear your perspective on this topic. In the meantime, may peace abound in your life more and more,

Be Safe. Be Kind. Be peaceful.

Sunset Over the Ocean

Community = Common Unity

“Community” is on the lips of every local politician and every civic organization. Whether schools, churches, or mosques we all want to see stronger communities; but what do we mean by community. When we say community where are the boundaries and borders? Is it a one block radius around my house, or the whole area of the housing development? Is it the designated name of an area used by voting districts or property taxes, or is it the area used for postal services by zip code? In smaller towns is it the whole town or just the city limits? Perhaps it is time define or redefine community for everyone.

If you study the etymology of the word community you will find its origins in Latin, and Old French. In Latin it is the word “communis” meaning the same and “communitas.” meaning common, public, shared by all or many. Our English word community is an adaptation of these words from the Old French word “communaute” which refers to public spirit or commonality. Outside of the fact that I love studying the historic context of words it always interests me that most words we consider to be “American” are actually borrowed words from other languages. Needless to say, over time words seem to take on new meanings and lose their intended and original definition. So, allow me to simplify the meaning of community for this blog post as derived from this background: Community equals Common Unity,

Several weeks ago, a huge oak tree fell in my front yard. We were lucky that it fell at an angle, so it didn’t hit our home or the homes of our neighbors. It did fall across the street and left limbs and debris in our neighbors’ yards as well as blocked the entire street. A young man came over from the end house and offered to help my husband clean up the debris and cut and remove the tree. It turned out that he owned a tree cutting and removal business. Another neighbor from the cul-de-sac came with power saw in hand to help with the cleanup too. The young business owner finished the job of removing the fallen tree and proceeded to cut bad limbs on other trees in our yard. He also pruned my crepe myrtles and inspected other trees on our property. When my neighbor to my left came home there was no evidence that our tree had left limbs and leaves all over her yard. It turned out that this young businessman who was relatively new to the neighborhood has helped people all over the neighborhood. When asked what was really in it for him, he said, “This is my community it’s our job to help one another.” Imagine that. This young man saw our entire development as his community.

That fact is disaster has a tendency to draw a community together. Floods, hurricanes, fires, all these things bring families and neighbors together because they are experiencing “communitas.” Trauma, grief, upheaval, and lost is the commonality that brings everyone together. Differences are put aside. Unity of purpose is understood in terms of survival and rebuilding. This is commendable, but also temporary. I am always amazed how people come together from all over the country to help individuals in these disastrous situations. Yet, why should it take catastrophe to remind us that we are one community.

Before calamity happens, we have a common unity. Every parent wants a good education and a safe environment for their children. Every bread winner wants to make enough money to take care of their families. Renters want to become owners. Owners want to maintain their property values. Everyone wants to have nourishment and clean water to drink. All people need clothes appropriate for the weather and affordable housing. Healthcare and retirement income are all common needs amidst the aging. Everyone sheds tears at the loss of a loved one. Everyone is pursuing happiness – the so-called American dream. These are not political talking points; these are community needs. These are the things we have in common with our neighbors and others who live in our region. These are reasons for us to relate to one another and to help one another. If you really think about it, we have more in common than we have as differences. Pain, fear, hope, dreams, struggle, thriving are all part of our common experiences.

Rather than allowing politics, racism, sexism, classism, and other social economic circumstances to polarize us why can’t our commonalities unify us? We breathe the same air. We walk or drive the same streets. We have the same desires for our families. This is not rhetoric; look around our world. Here’s the reality and if we are not careful, we will create more disasters to draw us into unnatural communities. Let’s remember our common unity before things around us get worst. We should build our community to make it stronger by stepping in to help in any way that we can. Like the young businessman I mentioned above, we can use our expertise to make our communities better. Like the neighbors that came to help us, we can use our collective efforts to fix and clean up our shared space.

It’s time to unify. It’s time to be a real community. It’s time to capitalize on our common unity. PEACE!

Photo by Kaique Rocha on Pexels.com

Dream-ability!

Where do dreams come from? Are they purely an ability to imagine and propel our thoughts into different scenarios or are they produced from our subconscious desires? Are they embedded impressions stored in our brain from past experiences or conversations, or do they come from nebulous subliminal messages through the multi-media airways? Perhaps they come from another realm of existence such as angels, ancient ancestors, or the supreme divine source. I’m sure there are many explanations, but one thing is certain – people of all ages dream.

There are daydreams and dreams that come when we sleep. There are dreams (goals, plans, hopes, wishes) for a happier more prosperous future as well as dreams to change the past. There are dreams that are filled with fantasy and magic, and there are dreams that need strategic planning. There are dreaded dreams like nightmares filled with doom and gloom, and night terrors filled with danger and life-threatening disasters. Some people dream with perfect recall, while others barely remember any details at all. Dreams can be ethereal and almost impossible to capture the necessary details. Dreams can seem like an additional sense providing intuition and premonitions about the living and or the dying. Dreams seem to exist on many plains and levels of consciousness both tangible and intangible. Dreaming does not have fixed boundaries; everyone has the capacity to dream.

Doctors (MD’s and Psychologists) seem to believe vivid or intense dreams happen during REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep. (Mind you this is from my cursory reading on the subject.) They say this is when our brain is most actively engaged in the same way it is when we are awake and involved in some stimulating activity. On the other hand, daydreams happen when we allow our minds to drift and lack external stimulation, more likely when our attention is focused on feelings or imaginative thoughts – a sort of wishful thinking. In reality, information about one’s dream-ability is speculative. Doctors cannot see the dreamers’ dreams to examine them. They are dependent on the dreamer’s ability to recall and interpret the dream accurately which means even the recall and the interpretation is subject to human error. Most dreamers add commentary to explain their dreams. So, doctors look for patterns and listen to complaints when dreams cause mental anguish or peculiar behavior such as sleepwalking and insomnia. In this discussion mental illness is not our point of reference. By all means if your dreams disturb your life, see a physician. I am talking more about how we interpret the dreams that we have from time to time without trauma or external stimulation from drugs or alcohol. In other words, what do your dreams mean to you.

When I was a little girl, I remember our landlord always asking me what I dreamed. She had a dream book, and she would tell me what the dream meant according to her book. It seemed a little goofy to me, but she was quite serious about it. Eventually, my mom made her stop asking me about my dreams; she said the landlord was using my dreams to play the numbers. I had no idea what that meant until I was much older and read a book entitled Daddy was a Number Runner by Louise Meriweather. Not only did I have very vivid dreams when I slept, but I could stare out the window and dream an entire episode of travel and adventure. At any rate, I stopped telling anyone my dreams except my journal.

As I got older, I dreamed about my ancestors. In my dreams they seem to have messages for me. Sometimes they were people I had actually known, and other times they were people who had died before I was born. I shared these dreams with my grandmother who would try to figure out who the people in my dreams were. One person, my grandfather’s mother would appear in my dreams often. I felt like she came to protect me from danger. One time I described her hat to my grandmother, and it seemed to spook her. My grandmother pulled a big hat box from the top of her closet and showed me the hat I had described to her. It was a gift from her mother-in-law given to her before I was born. After that my grandmother believed me when I told her dreams about my great-grandmother, her mother-in-law who died when I was two years old. As I grew older, I learned not to share my dreams with adults because of their strange reactions to them, and sometimes to me as well. Apparently, a vivid imagination was not good for a young girl and foreknowledge, or foresight was too eerie or mysterious.

To this day, I keep a dream journal. Some dreams I chalk up to too much cabbage and cornbread or horror movies. (There is a theory that when you eat too much it can give you crazy dreams like watching too many scary movies.) Sometimes I wait to see if the dream is repetitive. At other times I try to decipher a message from them. Either way, I don’t dwell on them, because they are what they are – just dreams – until they prove otherwise. I don’t dream all the time, at least not that I can remember or recall, but on the occasion that I do I jot down what I can remember without commentary. If it leaves a particular impression, I write that down as well. I have learned to use discretion in sharing my dreams; however, I do have some friends and family members who have similar experiences with dreaming. I am certain that some of my creativity comes from my dream-ability. Writing stories can be like an awake dream of characters, places, and scenes. It’s like a preternatural gift that allows me to see more and feel more in addition to my five senses.

Whether dreams are a series of images produced by the brain unintentionally, or a self-indulging product of our own desires and thoughts, dreams can be useful tools for creativity and healthy imagination. I venture to say that all art forms: music, poetry, prose, lyrics, graphics, design, dance, etc. comes from one’s ability to see something outside the range of normal vision. Inspiration and even aspiration can come from a lingering daydream. Worlds can exist outside of our normal range of reality because of a person’s dream-ability. Foresight, insight, perspective, and stimulation can arise from one’s ability to dream. Whatever you attribute dream-ability to it sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We are able to hope, to set goals, to implement wishes, and accomplish bucket lists because we can dream. We follow intuition and premonitions based on our ability to imagine outcomes in our mind’s eye, a form of dreaming. The visual aspect of our dream-ability helps us create the faith we need to open and close doors in our daily life’s journey. How you interpret your dreams makes all the difference. Are they possibilities or impossibilities? Are they precursors to invention or forewarnings for potential failings? Are they comical reliefs for a stressful existence or serious roadmaps for a thriving future? How do you use your dream-ability?

Dreams may demand interpretation, but the interpretation starts with you. Take a little time to dream!.