La Vie En Rose (Edith Piaf)

DailyOm

July 7, 2009

Opportunity for Reflection

Hard Days

We all have days that seem endlessly difficult and hard. On these days, it is as if the odds are stacked against us and we just can’t get a break as one challenging situation follows another. We may feel like we’re standing in the ocean getting hit by wave after wave, never able to get a full breath. Sometimes it’s necessary or worth it to stay in the fray and work our way through. Other times, the best idea is to go home and take the breath we need in order to carry on.

If the only choice is to get through it, a hard day can be a great teacher. It will eventually end and we can look back on it, taking pride in the stamina, courage, and ingenuity it took to hold our ground. We may also look back and see how we could have done things differently. This knowledge will be valuable when we face hard days in the future. Trust your gut as you’re deciding whether to work through it, and know that sometimes a timely retreat is the best way to ensure a positive outcome. Getting space can remind us that external circumstances are not the whole picture. Once we catch our breath and re-center ourselves, we will be able to determine our next move. With a little perspective, we may even find the inner resources to change our attitude about what’s happening. We may begin to see that what we saw as hardships are actually opportunities. As our attitude changes for the better, our actions and the circumstances will follow suit.

Sometimes all that’s needed is a good night’s sleep. No one is immune to having a hard day and these are usually the times we can learn the most. If we can find it in our hearts to examine the day, and maybe make one small change in perception, we can ease our pain and greet the next day that much wiser.

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Rob Brezsny's Astrology Newsletter

July 8, 2009

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): At the farmer's market, an escape artist performed in the middle of the street. As a crowd gawked, he had two big strong men tie him up tight in a straitjacket and 50 feet of chain. For the next 20 minutes he shimmied and contorted and bent over backwards. His face grew red and sweaty. There were no Houdini-like magic tricks. There were no puffs of smoke or magic boxes or mirrors or distracting assistants. He rarely spoke as the ordeal progressed, but in the end, after the last of the chains slipped off and he wrestled his way out of the straitjacket, he said simply, "Now I invite all of you to go home and use what I just did as a metaphor for your life." It was a supremely sexy performance, and I realized maybe it would help you with your current situation.

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I told a friend the other day that I need to work harder at being softer - I find myself back in that frustrated frame of mind...

As a few of you (who know my backstory) surmise, there is so much going on here emotionally with my mother, especially given our past history - we've always had a power-and-control tug-of-war relationship... mostly with her pulling and me pulling back in self-defense, trying not to get sucked in to that big mudpuddle in the middle!

Interesting to note that now, in the last few months of her life, she's still doing it - I know how powerless she must feel, unable to have much, if any, control over her life at this point... and of course she's going to try to find ways to dig in her heels, just on principle alone. I know she's grateful that I came, that I continue to stay and that I have sacrificed being with family and friends in order to facilitate her health plan - I am truly trying to do this selflessly, and with great love and respect...

It remains difficult... not just the day-to-day tasks but the emotional toll - caregiving is a thankless job, no matter how much anyone verbalizes their gratitude. My younger sister has stepped up in an *amazing* way and, if it weren't for her coming over three mornings a week so I could go to exercise class, and giving me a few nights a week respite at her house while she stays with mom, I'd have long since crossed over into exhaustion and insanity - I am beyond appreciative of her support, especially since she's juggling around a full-time job...

However, I told her the other day it sometimes feels unfairly like joint custody - she's the one who takes mom to Six Flags and orders in from the local seafood restaurant... and I'm the one who makes mom get up for school and eat her vegetables. Then I realized... that's always been our loop - I'm the responsible one (oldest) and Mari's the fun one (youngest). None of us can help the birth order nor the roles we've always played - I can waste time fretting and fuming... or I can just accept the fact that neither is better or worse... and that we actually need both for a balanced lifestyle for mom (I can be fun with my friends and Mari can be responsible with her daughter... :-)

I am at Mari's now, spending last night and tonight (can't believe how rejuvenating two nights in a row is) - since arriving late afternoon yesterday, I have: napped, eaten yummy crabcakes Mari left for me, watched Jeopardy, drunk half a glass of wine, watched a few hours of mindless TV (including Top Chef Masters), started a new-to-me Alice Hoffman novel, gotten a good night's sleep, walked 45 minutes in her neighborhood... and composed and uploaded this blog!

For my remaining time, I plan to: sun/read on the deck, do some much-needed work for my concert series on the computer, make a Target run, take a nap, watch more mindless TV, drink more wine, enjoy a jacuzzi/bath soak, get another good night's sleep... and head directly to exercise class in the morning... after which I'll return to mom's and re-grasp the baton so Mari can revel in a lovely weekend however she chooses...

Thanks, baby sister... for the opportunity to allow me to continue to learn, grow and give - we make a *great* team and I remain in awe of your maturity as well as your fun-loving spirit!

SONG: La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf

BOOK: Shower of Heavenly Roses: Inspirational True Stories of Healing Guidance, and other Miracles, Atrributed to the Intercession of Therese of the Little Flower by Elizabeth Ficocelli

POEM: Rose Garden, Summer Solstice by Carolyn Miller

Everyone here believes that the roses
are blooming only for them, there where the air

by the formal beds is layered with the scent

of roses. From deep in their flushed and darkening hearts

pour odors of lemons and pepper, apricots, honey,

vanilla and myrrh and musk and semen, apples and quince,

raspberries and wine and ocean, the faint

scent of blood and the fragrance of death and the breath

of the life we are living now, in this place

where the roses are blooming for each of us, alone.

QUOTE: "There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can." ~ Alice Hoffman

Independence Day (Ferron)

From yesterday's Writer's Almanac:

Today is Independence Day. On this day in 1776, the Second Continental Congress unanimously adopted the Declaration of Independence, and the United States officially broke from the rule of England. The colonists were trying to persuade other nations of Europe to be on their side, so they included a long list of complaints about the king. The document said of the king, in part, "He is, at this Time, transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to complete the Works of Death, Desolation, and Tyranny, already begun with Circumstances of Cruelty and Perfidy, scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous Ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized Nation."

Twenty-four years later, in 1804, the explorers Lewis and Clark had the first Fourth of July celebration west of the Mississippi. They were traveling through a part of the Midwest that is now Kansas. They stopped at the mouth of a creek on July 4th, and named it Independence Creek in honor of the day. To celebrate, they fired their cannon at sunset and distributed an extra ration of whisky to the men.

There were unofficial celebrations of Independence Day from its first anniversary, but it really became a popular holiday after the War of 1812. On the frontier, it was the only time of the year when everyone in the countryside gathered together in one place. There would be parades and speeches, and the prettiest and most wholesome girl in the village would be named the Goddess of Liberty. Politicians would get up and call the king of England a skunk and challenge him to a fight. Drunk men in the streets would get into fights and call each other Englishmen. Soon, events like groundbreaking ceremonies for the Erie Canal and the Baltimore and Ohio Railroads were scheduled to coincide with July 4th festivities.

We're actually honoring the Fourth of July today rather than yesterday (although last night we did watch the PBS concert/fireworks on TV) - we bought an inexpensive grill at Home Depot and will cook out hot dogs and hamburgers, and round out the meal with corn on the cob, potato salad, fresh fruit and a patriotically-decorated chocolate cake. There will be 10 of us (immediate family, significant others and a few friends) - we'll also celebrate two (July 2) birthdays: my husband's and my brother's girlfriend's.

After clean-up time, my husband and I will head back over to my sister's to spend one last night together before he flies back to Florida Monday evening - it's going to be so hard to say goodbye (don't go there yet, Susan!)...

SONG: Independence Day by Ferron

BOOK: Summer: A Spiritual Biography Of The Season by Gary D. Schmidt, Susan M. Felch (editors), Barry Moser (illustrator)

POEM: A Warm Summer in San Francisco by Carolyn Miller

Although I watched and waited for it every day,

somehow I missed it, the moment when everything reached

the peak of ripeness. It wasn't at the solstice; that was only

the time of the longest light. It was sometime after that, when

the plants had absorbed all that sun, had taken it into themselves

for food and swelled to the height of fullness. It was in July,

in a dizzy blaze of heat and fog, when on some nights

it was too hot to sleep, and the restaurants set half their tables

on the sidewalks; outside the city, down the coast,

the Milky Way floated overhead, and shooting stars

fell from the sky over the ocean. One day the garden

was almost overwhelmed with fruition:

My sweet peas struggled out of the raised bed onto the mulch

of laurel leaves and bark and pods, their brilliantly colored

sunbonnets of rose and stippled pink, magenta and deep purple

pouring out a perfume that was almost oriental. Black-eyed Susans

stared from the flower borders, the orange cherry tomatoes

were sweet as candy, the fruit fattened in its swaths of silk,

hummingbirds spiraled by in pairs, the bees gave up

and decided to live in the lavender. At the market,

surrounded by black plums and rosy plums and sugar prunes

and white-fleshed peaches and nectarines, perfumey melons

and mangos, purple figs in green plastic baskets,

clusters of tiny Champagne grapes and piles of red-black cherries

and apricots freckled and streaked with rose, I felt tears

come into my eyes, absurdly, because I knew

that summer had peaked and was already passing

away. I felt very close then to understanding the mystery;

it seemed to me that I almost knew

what it meant to be alive, as if my life had swelled

to some high moment of response, as if I could

reach out and touch the season, as if I were inside

its body, surrounded by sweet pulp and juice,

shimmering veins and ripened skin.

QUOTE: "You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence... with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness." ~ Erma Bombeck