Authenticity

Far too often have I taken cues from those around me to determine what I think, say, and do, rather than my own personal expression.

Therefore, I've been trying to figure out who I am and what I want. This is not a selfish quest any more than it's selfish for a tree to extend it's branches toward infinite sunlight and therefore provide oxygen to it's Earthly cohabitants, albeit a less than conscious effort.

How can I say to someone that I need to figure out who I am? Especially to someone who thinks they know? I've said that I want to "be me", but this implies that at times I'm not "me", which is absurd, since I'm obviously no one else but myself.

I think that my authentic self is buried under years of influence, and that all of the "issues" I'm trying to resolve in myself are just manifestations of incongruency between my authentic self and how my conscious mind, under consideration of external influence, has directed me. So, when I say I want to "be me", I'm saying that I want to shed the extra layers of expectation, fear, and self-judgment and doubt that strip me of my confidence that I'm thinking, doing, and saying what is true.

Perhaps then I will have something as purposeful as oxygen to offer those in my life.

Ungrounded

Post assertions of lofty positive promises from Impetus, I have been uncomfortably ungrounded. In the beginning, it wasn't too bad. I was just disconnected, left with what little inertia remained from tentatively thrusting myself into feeling again. I tried to embrace the period of not being on a path, to be open to my spirit's true expression. However, after a bit of time, the cloudy veil started to lift, and I realized I was definitely not where I wanted to be. I imploded under the instant bombardment of questions. What does this mean? What do I do? Should I change? What should I change? How do I change? What are my options? What do I want? All of which had the same answer: I don't know.

My overarching sense was one of nakedness. Vulnerability. Many a blog post were started during this time, but none survived the collapse of aimlessness that seemed to permeate my every moment of existence. Thankfully, I wasn't (and am still not) hopeless, partly because I know that there is a process to re-evaluating and changing direction, and I've been working on my patience with myself. Also, I've been actively addressing some things that I knew needed attention, so haven't been completely without purpose.

I'm starting to consciously let go of my doubt and discomfort so that I can can receive the answers to my questions. Similar to the philosophy that you will only find what you're looking for once you stop looking. Mind you, this is all easier said than done. Instead of a graceful transition onto a more enlightened path, my natural tendency to rely on external forces results in anguish as I struggle between what I know and what I let myself believe. I have to contend with extreme characteristics from both ends of my personality to find the balance between my faith and my fear. Internal and external. Self and others.

Mantid

A couple of weeks ago, one of my cats (Tiki), brought a praying mantis inside to play with. Fortunately, I noticed before any real harm came to the mantis, and was able to return him to the outdoors.

I believe the one pictured here is male, but that's only based on a childhood memory I have of reading that they were all green when young (nymphs), and as they matured, only the males would turn brown. However, since there are many species and therefore many colors of mantids, I'm not sure how accurate that bit of information is.

This visitor reminded me of my fondness for mantids. It reminded me about how excited I was to find them when I was young. I think they appealed to me mainly because they are relatively large and can move their heads (one of the few insects that can) so there is a connection as they follow your movement with their heads and eyes. Sometimes, I trapped them and provided houseflies so I could observe them prey on live insects. The speed at which they grab their victims and eat them is fascinating to watch. I also remember enjoying how they mimic leaves in a breeze as they sway back and forth on a branch.

After admiring this one, I carried it outside to one of my plants, and it kept flying onto me while I was trying to photograph it, but with some coaxing, it sat still enough for me to grab a couple of shots.

Felinity

I feel great compassion for all animals, and don't like being labeled specifically like "cat person" or "dog person" because those types of labels connote a dislike of the rest as opposed to an increased appreciation of the one. That being said, this post is a tribute to the things I appreciate about cats, specifically those currently in my family and those who have passed. I had to take Majik to the animal hospital this morning for a urinary blockage; so far he is doing well, but I miss him already, and want to acknowledge what I appreciate about him and his kind.

I love falling victim to the "second- or third-kitty" syndrome as I end up napping after cuddling up to sleeping cat(s) in the middle of the day. I love the there's-no-place-I'd-rather-be look they make with their eyes. I love how soft they feel. I love their safe and tranquil purr.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting on our sofa next to my husband with Majik in my lap. We were both petting him, and he was returning our love in the form of trust, purrs, relaxation, and peace. While sitting there, I said "people who don't like cats have never experienced moments like this."

Trust

I've always thought of myself as a trustworthy person, but pretty much took it for granted when people opened up to me. That was in college. I felt like the dorm counselor because so many people came to me for my perspective on things. Since then, being eschewed from the safe confines of educationland, I see how little people trust others. Granted, there are those who have an easier time at it, and I still fall into the end of the spectrum where I trust too easily.

My point is, as you wouldn't have been able to guess from the above paragraph, that being trusted is a gift. Especially from those at the more conservative end of the trusting spectrum. So, this post is a reminder of how feeling accepted, valued, and trusted shouldn't be taken for granted.

Pressure

I was transported back into grade school Saturday when some friends came over to play tennis. I began to carry the level of confidence that comes with being one of those pathetic "last ones picked." I will always blame inability to physically perform under pressure for being picked last. (When there's no pressure, I'm often quite impressed with what I'm able to do.) And, despite how much I got yelled at by teachers and classmates when I missed a catch, kick, or throw, I believe the greatest pressure came from within myself.

So, even though there was no "picking" involved in playing doubles, points were. So if my partner maintained a good rally only for me to ruin it, I felt like I was letting the world down. This is not just the common disappointment most feel when they don't perform the way the mind says, but the unproportional kind that further degrades my self-image. Fortunately, this was all in my head, which means it's thoretically in my capacity to do something about it. The other good thing about it is that I'm (mostly) surrounded by people who don't contribute to the pressure, if not help reduce it, which is probably why I was able to see where the pressure comes from.

How I became this way is a whole other story.

If

I recently re-read a recounting of my husband's car accident. Unlike last time, I didn't cry out with tears of rage, nor were the pangs of misplaced guilt as severe.

How can such little things have the power to change so much? A split second of time. A scoche of an inch. A two-letter word. If.

How can such a little word bring so much sorrow and pain, yet also so much hope and joy?
It partners with our choices and possibilities, and stays with us after the pieces fall.
It is what allows us, with time, to appreciate good fortune, heal from our wounds, and gain wisdom.

Before we were married, I asked him whether he would change anything in his past if he had the ability. I was upset when he said "not one thing", but eventually realized he had the wisdom to understand how such a little thing would change so much; and what would happen if he did go back and change one little thing?

Delight

Okay, maybe this title would better serve a more agreeable experience, but hey--life's short, and there are many words.

Yesterday, upon opening my car door at the end of a work day, I noticed a tiny spider suspended in the center of the space in which I would be sitting. I gently sweeped my finger several inches above the spider to pick up it's silk and transfer it to a large tree that was closeby.

It's probably worth mentioning at this point that I'm generally comfortable around insects, at least until they are found crawling on me without my permission. (And I'm wary around stinging insects because I'm very allergic.)

As I watched the spider land on the tree, I noticed how the tree's bark was so perfectly, randomly segmented into a beautiful mosaic of puff-pastry-like layers of variegated browns and mottled, lichen greens. The trunk of the tree too large to close my arms around.

Just as I was turning away, I sensed movement on the bark. Upon closer inspection, a piece of bark was moving as if something were beneath it. Nay, it a piece of bark with legs!

I picked up some loose bark on the ground to urge it into a little bag I had to take it home and
investigate.

Delight? Sure! I'd never seen or heard of an insect like it! And I'm always amazed by nature's ingenuity, and this was definitely an example! Just the night before, I saw a television program
about animals that drastically transformed themselves through their lifecycle. This insect turned out to be a brown lacewing larvae; a.k.a. "Aphid Wolf", due to its beneficially carnivorous
nature, and "Trash Bug", due to its practice of attaching debris to its back, including carcasses of insect victims, to protect it from larger predators.

I set it loose among my plants because it will find food there until it makes a cocoon, and maybe I will see an adult lacewing someday.

Giddy

I’m find that as I get older, there are fewer opportunities to feel giddy, therefore I try to truly cherish those moments. I went to an amusement park on Saturday with a friend who hasn’t been on a coaster in close to 10 years. She felt giddy after riding each of them. As a roller coaster enthusiast (meaning I ride a lot of coasters, a lot), those opportunites only come to me with a new coaster, and even then, only if it’s exciting.

Last night, I felt giddy. Tom and I went to see Monster House in digital 3D. We’ve seen digital, done well. We’ve seen 3D, done well. This was our first time with both together, done well. The initial amount of perceived space tickled me. It was done so well, that shortly into the movie, the third dimension felt natural. I leaned over and said, “there will come a time when this is no longer impressive.”

Oh, and I’m excited about getting my first real pair of dance shoes. They should arrive Wednesday, just in time for class. We’ll see if I’m still as giddy once I’m elevated 3”. :)

Patience

…is a virtue I appreciate more each day. I have traditionally been an impatient person, although because I’m self-policing, a lot of my frustration has been “safely” squelched away, internally, so as not to appear unreasonable. Yeah, right. With an audible sigh, a scowl, and eyes to the sky, how could I appear patient? And furthermore, why try to appear to be something I’m not; can’t I just learn to be patient? I wonder how many people who appear to be patient are just better at acting.

The method I have been trying to use is to consider times in my own life when I’ve not approved of my behavior or words, and considering that someone else might be dealing with something similar. Whether it’s because I’m tired, moody, hungry, in pain, confused, worried, scared, overconfident, disrespectful, inconsiderate, lazy, selfish, jealous, defensive, upset, grieving, frustrated, helpless, ill, or in some otherwise affected state, my ability to be patient is compromised. Whether these are acceptable states of being is another post. We’re taking baby steps, here.

I think I’ve gotten a lot better with patience in recent past, but there was one major component I was missing: being patient with myself. I realized I needed to be patient with myself by necessity when went through a troubling experience. Not optimal, but the silver lining is that it led me to my next lesson, which I’m currently working through.

At what point does patience shift into tolerance, and how does one decide where to draw the line between not enough tolerance and too much?

Impetus

Capture epiphanic moments of brilliance
Perpetuate positivity
Encourage self-realization
Foster inspiration
Play with words
Emerge

Yes, I'm jumping on the blog-bandwagon without knowing where it will go, but it always is about the journey, and these are some things I hope to do on the way.

Welcome to my blog.