Finding Fabulous at Fifty

146

I turn 50 at 11:47pm tonight. I thought somehow I'd feel different. But I don't. I still got up this morning, had breakfast (they forgot my bacon!) and went to work. I had lovely presents on my car from a friend, and presents at school from friends and from my sister. Oh and I got a 'join us' card from AARP. Am I old enough for AARP?????

My life is really good right now. I'm just riding the wave of two teenagers who can't decide on much and keep shifting around what and who they want to be. I'm learning to just smile and let it go, even when it hurts my feelings, stabs at my heart, or when I get attached to something that is gone the next day. Pretty typical life with kids. I wonder sometimes, how my mom and dad did it. How anyone does it... I mean, how do any of us survive parenting?

I realize, however, that something has changed in me - my tolerance for being around people who are unhealthy. My tolerance for misery and melancholy. We all go through struggles. I have gone through crying myself to sleep every night for months. But in terms of having people in my life that are chronically negative, or tear down the things that bring me joy - I'm not able to navigate it anymore. I can deal with depression and I can hold someone's space through trauma. But when it is pretty much a chronic state, when I find I start to feel bad about who I am because of someone else's unhappiness... well, I realize I need to step away.  I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not a good thing. Does it mean I have lost my patience? Or that I have lost my compassion? Or that I am a bad friend for walking away? I honestly don't know.

What I do know is that I still love fiercely. And I am still kind. And I will have your back at the drop of a hat if you need me. But I'm far from perfect. After all, my cup says "almost" perfect (thanks, Rachel!)

The next half of my life is going to be focused on being happy. On finding my joy. On being with people who bring me joy - I couldn't even begin to list them all here. Today, two friends from my past showed up on facebook! How wonderful! It's a joy that people I love and have loved for a long time are still in my life, showing up, being present and sharing their sorrows and their excitement about their adventures. Maybe I'm finally realizing at fifty, no one is going to make me happy. I can share my happiness with others, but I have to make my own joy. This next part of my journey I am going to pursue finding those qualities - even if finding those qualities in my life means great change and moving out of what makes me comfortable. I'm going to pursue connection and community, and I get excited even contemplating what that means.

Don't misunderstand, I don't actually know what pursuing love, pursuing happiness, pursuing joy and pursuing connection is going to look like or what it is going to mean, but I am excited to see where my newfound determination leads. 

Maybe the biggest gift I am giving myself this year, is that I am going to stop pursuing perfection. And I am going to stop pursuing the search for all the answers and feeling like I have to be in control to feel safe. Because sometimes, I think maybe I am asking the wrong questions anyhow. And maybe, just maybe, this year I'll learn to be a little kinder to myself. I'll learn my own value and maybe, I'll start to listen when people I love tell me my value... maybe I'll believe them - instead of doubting them and their honesty.

Thank you all for loving me. For being kind. For being patient while I move into who I am all the while continuing to stumble while I learn. We of the Meyer line live a long time. So I'm looking forward to at least another 45 years of life on this planet <3.

Peace and love this holiday season,

MaryKate

Complacency vs Courage

116

You know that old story about having two wolves inside - one good and one evil? And the grandfather tells his grandson that the two wolves fight all the time? In the myth, the grandson asks which one wins. And the grandfather says, 'the one you feed'. The myth is supposed to be Native American but is actually a story Billy Graham told to promote good vs. evil. Well, that story is in my head today.

Moving beyond the murky and very questionable origins of the story and the concept of good vs. evil, I'm struggling with the concepts of choice today and the profound implications of making changes in my life.

I saw this quote today:


Everything in your life is a reflection of a choice you have made. If you want a different result, make a different choice.


I don't know who to attribute that quote to, but it resonates with where my life is at the moment.


I am trying to make choices in a more mindful way. I am constantly amazed at how difficult that can be. How scary it is at times to choose something out of my comfort zone. For me, my two wolves aren't evil and good, that is too black and white. For me, my two wolves are complacency and courage.
Making a choice to listen to my heart takes courage. It takes courage to eat the healthy dinner not the comfortable one. Those two wolves fight inside of me all the time. It is easy to 'rest' in anger, or be complacent in habits that only give the illusion of comfort.

But the courage it takes to make those harder choices is sometimes out of my reach.

I want to honor myself. I want to honor the emotional, physical and spiritual core of who I am. And each choice I make allows me to feed one of my two wolves - courage or complacency.

Someone I love told me about the 4 levels of competence.

As an example, in my childhood I learned that love was earned. It was not freely given, it was something I only deserved if I worked for it. If I just did enough, if I just gave enough, if I just tried hard enough, I would earn it. If I was struggling - I just needed to give MORE. That would fix it. In a very unconscious way, I meandered through life - consistently disappointed I could not do enough to earn love. In general, I didn't get angry or blame others when things didn't work out, I got angry at myself, but didn't see the pattern in my choices. When I met Candace, she taught me that in friendship, love wasn't earned - it was shared. It was freely given - even when it hurt, even when it seemed too hard, it wasn't taken away when things got difficult. It didn't depend on me being 'good enough'. Love was love. I moved from unconscious incompetence to unconscious competence over time - weeding out friendships and people in my life that demanded more from me than I was capable of giving. It was a slow process, but over time I realized what friendship meant. Candace taught me and for that I will be forever grateful.

But the reality is, that simply because I know how to make different choices in ONE piece of my life, doesn't mean it applies to others. Without realizing it, that pattern of trying to earn love continued in my life. Not in my friendships, but in other areas.

I find myself having to relearn that lesson all over again. That is how powerful complacency is. Change is hard work. It is continual. And it is easy to feed complacency. Complacency gives me a sense of comfort - even as its corruption eats away at my foundation.

Letting go of anger, letting go of fear, letting go of childhood patterns is hard. Those patterns were developed for a reason. They protected the heart.

I took a risk this week to shift a pattern in my life. I stepped out of complacency. It was scary. It was incredibly hard. I tried to do it with courage and grace, but I'm not sure I managed that. And I do not know what the outcome will be. Because when you make a change, you are not the only one involved in it. Patterns developed with others also have to evolve. Sometimes you come to a whole new level of connectedness. And sometimes that isn't possible.

So I'm tackling moving from complacency to change. I am making the choice to live my life in a more mindful way.

I am working hard to feed the wolf of change.

I'm working to choose courage.

One bite at a time.

MaryKate

Replenishing the spirit

Nuts!
114

I decided to start 2014 by attending a retreat offered by Joanna Powell Colbert. I was positive I knew why I was going. I was positively wrong. I guess the best lessons in life are the ones we recognize while we are busy thinking something else is important.

The one day retreat was created to explore a personal goal in 2014. We used the Gaian Tarot for clarity and to create action steps to bring that goal to fruition.  I haven't felt called to attend any retreat or workshop in a long time, nor have I picked up my cards. But when I read the post about the day, I felt it was time to re-engage with both.

My mom bought me my first Rider-Waite deck when I was 13. I have gone through many phases and decks over the years. However, I resonate with the Gaian deck in a way I haven't connected with the cards in a long time. From the sidelines, over the last eight years or so, I have followed Joanna's progress as she posted new cards on her website. I was thrilled with her completed deck. When I got my own copy, it quickly became my goto deck when I had a question or wanted some insight. In general, I see less 'oracle' and more 'story' when I use the tarot. For me, tarot cards are representations of universal concepts; they are symbols that tell a mythic story. My interaction with them is not to seek absolute answers, but to listen to the story I hear. Joanna's deck does a fantastic job showing the mythic, and it was because of it and her that I decided to attend on Saturday. I was excited to hold space with a woman who lives her life in such integrity and creativity.

With my goal of 'Being healthy, happy and whole' in hand, my friend Mary and I headed to Bellingham. I was ready to enjoy sharing the day with others and deepening my own mythic story. I immersed myself in the exercises. I had an amazing and healthy lunch. I walked outside and looked at the Puget Sound.

Then we returned for the second half of the day.

Do you ever have moments when you are fully invested in an activity, certain you are doing the 'right' thing and then BAM just when you think you know, you have an insight that changes everything? A moment when your breath catches a bit in your chest and then your whole body sighs because that piece of the puzzle of your life slips into place and for the tiniest moment life stands still and you 'get it'. I had that one of those rare moments.

I was participating in the exercises and going along with the goal setting and such when I drew the following card from her deck:

The four of earth.

I looked at the card and thought, "This card makes no sense." And I PUT IT BACK in the deck! I was sure I needed to draw a different card, so I did. But my mind kept coming back to the squirrel. With its nuts. And the stone cairn. I dug it back out of the deck. I read about it. My time was almost up and I hadn't written anything.

Then, BAM! I got it. The story I wasn't hearing flooded into my head. I realized everything I had done all day was important, but not as much as the story being told by this card. Apparently, the whole day was about the nuts.

The moment of insight I had was about replenishing. In December, right before break, I sort of fell apart. I was exhausted, confused, and emotionally spent. I cried for two days straight. I couldn't keep my world together. And it's okay to be in that place if that is the place you are in - and I was deeply in that place. I couldn't see out of it.

The problem I was having wasn't sorrow, or confusion, or exhaustion. Those were the symptoms - this card helped me realize that the problem was that I hadn't saved up enough nuts.

I hadn't taken care of myself. I hadn't replenished myself. I hadn't stored up enough supplies. I don't need to hoard the nuts, but I do need to make sure I set enough aside for my moments of winter.

I had made the classic mistake of giving, giving, giving and not taking the time I needed to replenish. Initially, I wanted to put this card away because I seldom put myself first. I am not a saver.

My story this year, is to make sure I save some nuts. Yes, I am going to the Y and eating more organically, and saving money, etc. But mostly, I am going to make sure I take some time each month for me. I am going to go on retreats - either by myself or with a circle of supportive people. I am going to do my best to save enough money for a trip to Hawaii over Spring Break and build a cairn on the beach. I am going to make sure I have enough nuts to get through the lean times.

And while I don't make resolutions, I honor revelations. I'm contemplating buying the print of the card to put up in my bedroom - just so I remember the 'nuts'.

I hope your 2014 is filled with an abundance of nuts and you make time for yourself to gather them :).

Peace,

MaryKate

When A Bag is more than a Bag...

Candace's Bag
109 

When Candace’s husband asked me what I wanted of Candace’s, I didn’t hesitate. I asked for the bag hanging in the garage. This bag. This large, blue and white, 15 - 20 year old Land's End bag that says "Candace" stitched in cursive.

It may seem like an odd thing to ask for a bag. I, of course, don’t see a bag. I see a trip. I see almost every trip we ever took together. Thank god this bag can’t talk. If it could, the things it would tell about our excursions might make me blush in mixed company...

Some of our earliest trips were to stay overnight at my dad’s ‘cabin’ in Marblehead, Ohio. Calling it a cabin made it sound so romantic. It was a trailer. An old trailer. A 1978 trailer. A comfortable middle class trailer with a room built on and an air-conditioner stuck in the window. My mother had chosen to cover the kitchen floor with carpet that had strawberries on it. God I wish I had a photo of that carpet. Sometimes it was just me and Candace. Sometimes? It was Randy. And sometimes it was a dating weekend with her boyfriend (later husband – Mike) and my boyfriend at the time. Sometimes it was a girl’s weekend. There was almost always skinny dipping involved. Oh yeah, we were wild women in our 20s. Later as well got to know each other that trip was ‘couples weekend’. Steve and Ellen, Mike and Candace, Hans and I. We lived like we had all the time in the world to be happy. And we were. Candace eventually married Mike, Steve and Ellen eventually married and Hans and I remained friends, even after all these years. They were good times. Some of the best times, and I am pretty sure Margaritas were almost always involved.

In my early 30s, I moved to Seattle. I told Candace I would only be out there for 5 years. - then I’d be back. I did move back later, but never again would Ohio be my permanent home. I remember the day I left. Candace took me to the airport. In the back of her van this bag sat full of summer stuff she hadn’t removed from her car yet. She hugged me, I made my empty 5 year promise and we cried. And we cried. She told me once she cried all the way home. Then cried for several days. I did the same. I knew I was leaving a part of myself behind. It wouldn't be long after that she started her family.

Candace and I talked on yahoo instant messenger almost every day. We talked on the phone, although I really don’t like talking on the phone – she loved it. Sometimes she’d call just to talk and I wouldn’t answer the phone. I feel bad about that now. I feel bad that I didn’t take the time to connect. It never bothered her and I don’t ‘regret’ it, just think today how much I’ll miss that. Even towards the end of her illness she'd call me and her voice was full of joy. I will miss that more than anything.

Candace and I made the trip across the country from Ohio to Seattle five times together. I can’t even remember the details of all the trips. She desperately wanted to make that trip one more time with the kids, but that didn’t happen. I remember on one of the trips, we decided we were going to stop at every cheesy roadside attraction. We saw the giant statue of the Jolly Green Giant, The Corn Palace (which was to become a favorite stop), the Spam museum (inside some strip mall at the time, we almost didn’t find it), Wall Drug (of course the signs lured us in) and The Badlands. One trip we affectionately named “eating across America”. It was not our finest hour, although we did learn the joy of fry bread tacos and I learned NEVER to take Candace to Dairy Queen twice in one day.

This bag went with us on our RV trip to the Grand Canyon. On that trip we filled it with pamphlets, AAA Guides, books from the library with all the places on Route 66 she wanted to find and National Park guides. (We always tried to take national park trips, but usually ended up taking photos out of our car windows.) On our Grand Canyon trip, Candace had just had her hip replaced because the cancer had eaten through her bones. She had barely recovered from the surgery and her doctors told her she shouldn’t go. Thank god she had an adventurous spirit. Because every single moment of that trip – all of them will be part of my shared history with Madalyn and Grant. I thank god I had the support of people around me – both financial and emotional to make that trip happen. Even the plague of locust in Oklahoma has made a memory that will never be forgotten.

Of course, this bag, if I look closely, still has sand from our trip to Put in Bay. Last summer we went one last time together. Madalyn, myself and Candace – she drove up to the lake and met me, I drove her back. Just the drive up to the lake exhausted her. Looking back, I realize letting her drive was nuts, but she endured. She brought this bag - only this time it wasn’t full of towels and sunblock, it was full of medicine. She needed an entire canvas bag to hold all of her medicine. Later, after our trip, when we returned to Columbus, she was so exhausted she slept for two days without waking up. She didn’t take any of her medicine. Two days of missed morphine was two too many. That was when I realized, for her, it wasn’t ‘better living through chemistry’ but simply ‘living through chemistry’. But the day we went on our trip to the island? It was sunny and beautiful. I rented a golf cart and Candace, Madalyn and I laughed, went to the winery and drove around the island over and over and over – none of us wanted to leave. We even went junking! I had rented a hotel room by the water. At the end of the day we took the ferry back from the island and went to our favorite restaurant – Phil’s Inn and ate spaghetti. During dinner, Candace got the call that her grandmother Gwen had had a massive brain bleed. Gwen was much more than Candace’s grandmother, Gwen was Candace’s mom, her joy, her love. Hearing that Gwen had a massive brain hemorrhage and likely wouldn’t recover, I asked if Candace wanted me to take her back to Columbus. She said, “No, Gram would want me here by the lake. It was our favorite place. She loved it here and would want me to be here. I can’t take all the drama there. Here, I can make peace with everything.” She cried and cried, but I have no doubt Gwen was the first one to greet her last Sunday. Gwen died the next day. Candace often said that it was the hardest day of her life. Last Sunday was the hardest of mine.

When Candace died on Sunday, there was no funeral. She wanted to be cremated and there were no showing hours. I was with Grant and Madalyn when she died. When I told them, Madalyn asked me to take her to Put-In-Bay. I called the ferry and it was running but the lady at the ferry told me that nothing was open there this time of year. Everything is closed. No golf cart rental, no lobster bisque, nothing. When I told Madalyn, I promised her I would take her this summer. She and Grant and I will go to Put-In-Bay together and rent a golf cart and drive around. Sometime before this summer, her husband Mike and the family are planning a “Celebration of Life” party where everyone can come and share their stories of her. I hope I can make it.

I’ll make sure to bring the bag. I’d hate for it to miss anything.

Once Upon a Time
92/100

Once upon a time, I was pretty sure I knew everything. I was pretty sure I had it all figured out.

Recently, I learned of another young person passing from the world. I wasn't close to her, but I have memories of loving her very much when she was younger. I particularly remember one day we walked together and talked about how hard it was to be 'different'. I don't know if she had any memory of that walk, but I do. I think of it from time to time. Her mother was a woman I respected and admired a great deal (I still do but present tense didn't quite fit the paragraph *smile*) and I felt lucky and honored to have known both her and her daughter. I am sure this isn't an easy time for their family.

J, a longtime friend of mine, asked me my thoughts on death. She asked if I thought the Creator gave all of us a certain 'amount' of time on this planet and when our time was up? Our time was up. Fifteen years ago? I would have had an answer. Now? I have a vague 'knowing' that is nothing even remotely like an 'Answer' with a capital A.

Here are my thoughts J, and these are only that... just my thoughts. But oddly, to tell them, I have to talk about my favorite Deep Space 9 character. The character's name is Odo and his species is called "Changling". Essentially, he can be any creature he wants, or a tree or any object he chooses to impersonate. He thinks he is alone in the universe, only to find out his species thrives and has sent him to learn all he can about the universe. Eventually he hears an internal 'program' and he returns 'home'. There he 'melts' into the liquid pool of his people and all that he is becomes all that they are. All that they are, become all that he is. Every time I watch the episode where he returns 'home', I cry. I cry because it calls to me. And something about it? Speaks truth.

That liquid pool of community? Well, I sort of see death as a returning of each of our spirits to the 'all there is'. How long we reside in this human experience with the notion that we are outside that pool of 'all there is'? Isn't nearly as important as the joy and sorrow, the success and falters, the passion and the apathy wrapped in all our experiences we bring with us and share of the time we are apart.

Do we all have a certain number of days all metered out that we get to use up until there is nothing left? I don't think so. I don't think it works like that. I think, perhaps, what we do here, what lives we touch and what moments touch our lives is much more important than how long we get to do it. Whether we die young or old, we hold a unique set of experiences that we will eventually share with 'all there is'. God is defined for *me*, not apart from us, but existing in the collective 'all' of us.

Quite a few years ago, I came home to Ohio during a particularly difficult time in my life. I felt lost; I felt my identity had disappeared with the end of a relationship. I had no idea who I was anymore. One day, while I was up at the Lake, I went swimming. It was evening, and I was the only one around. I stepped into the Lake and for a moment I was overwhelmed with memories of my past. As I walked deeper and deeper into the water, more and more memories of my childhood and life spent in connection with the Lake surfaced in me. I had the distinct feeling that the Lake had been holding my memories for just such a moment. A moment when I would come and ask to be reconnected to myself. Without getting too esoteric?  I felt the Lake reach out to me to comfort me. I heard many of the whispered prayers I had, over my life, imparted to the Lake. I felt the Lake giving back to me what it had been holding. As if it had been waiting all along for me to return.

Do we have a certain amount of time on this planet? I do not know. Do we have an arrangement with God before we get here about what we will do and who we will do it with? I do not know. What I do know? Is that all things we do are sacred. All things we do matter. Because all things we do connect us. There was no judgment in the memories the Lake held for me. To me? There is no judgement from God when we return to the 'all there is'. There is only love for us when it is our time to return home.

It is those of us left behind, believing we are apart from those we love, that weep.

Peace,

MaryKate