"Men and Women...Women and Men"

 

     Let's begin with a quote by Bertrand Russell, the British philosopher and Nobel Laureate. "Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives."  As King and I celebrate a sixteenth New Year together, I know full well Russell was correct.  Most of us get married to escape loneliness and perhaps ourselves.  But there is no better mirror of ourselves than our partner.  When we marry, we are agreeing to the image that is witnessed by our partner. We need to remember that men and women see things very differently.  What matters to one, will never totally matter to the other.  The television remote is the finest example of this.

     There are a billion reasons why we marry but the key reasons are private only to those making the commitment.  We look at some married couples in awe of their compatibility and their partnership. Are we sure of that?  The on-line dating phenomena makes the lonely-hearts establish a sense of "taking action."  We should know by now, that forcing a life changing situation to happen, spells disaster.  The organic nature of how a relationship happens is it's true manifestation.  We are "called."  So here in my universe is what men should know about women:

• When a woman mentions that she wants something done, don't make her wait. She wants it done because it is important.  Don't question it.  Don't ignore it. Just do it.
• Kindness will always guarantee marital whoopee.  Kindness is the fossil fuel of love.  
• Relationships transition based on what both people have grown up with as children.  This is true.  We marry what we know.  Ponder this for a second or maybe two.  We find familiarity in our love of another.  There always needs to be common denominators for two people to be attracted.  The question is can these denominators withstand a life time of unity? 
• If one or the other is doing housework, that's a clue that the one NOT doing the housework should offer to help. Clutter, is NEVER appreciated.  It breeds anxiety.  It breeds frustration.  UNLESS, both parties don't give "a hoot."   Be mindful of what is important to the other.  Here's a tip: Boxers do NOT belong on the floor. The Keurig Coffee Maker should always be full.  Never, never underestimate a wonderful home cooked meal.  Either party should know how to cook.  Waaaaay important.
• Men see things differently than women do.  Ask a man to find his keys and the whole house turns upside down.  Women keep their keys in their Dooney and Bourke handbag attached to the clip that's provided. Never, NEVER underestimate the power of fashion. Man eyes are not like female eyes.  Women see the emotional value.  Men want to fix things but when they can't, they let us fix it ourselves.  It's probably better that way. 
• I read recently where couples who argue regularly, have a better chance of staying together.  I was at first perplexed by that until I realized that those who don't argue, lose their voice.  It's very easy to lose one's voice in a marriage. It's a long way back to finding it again but it is possible through love.
• Men speak differently than women do.  Men are direct.  Men demand.  That's the simple truth.  Men are not afraid to ask for what they want. Women have found that they will go much further when they are direct, when they demand.  The balance of how and when is the secret...at least for women. However, the worst thing thing a man and women can do is ignore each other's voice.
• Most men can not multi-task.  A woman can do three loads of laundry, completely vacuum the entire house, clean the bathrooms and read their horoscope WHILE  preparing their work for the next day. We do indeed know how to manage our time. Men who can build, fix, and repair are so incredibly wonderful but they can never handle more than one thing at the same time. This is where women have to be patient.  Here's a tip...We are NEVER patient. It's our cross to bare. Love us anyway. 

     Men and women don't have to weighed down by oppressive relationships.  This is why men are so confused these days.  The playing field has leveled.  The only reason to marry is for love. If that is not in the equation, don't. Now sometimes things dramatically change.  Two people wake up look at each and say, "What the hell?"  Feelings get hurt.  The lawyers make a mint.  Families are forever changed and it takes forever and day to realize that they were better off. Or were they?  Only the couple knows for sure.  No one else are suited to make that judgement.    

      Love is a double-edged sword.  Men and women need each other but not for the reasons we traditionally think.  We need each other because well, it just feels right and it makes sense. The best relationships are not one-sided. There are constant negotiations. It's very much like the United Nations.  Organically, we see that light that connects one heart to another.  We feel it.  We know it makes sense.  We must be prepared for best and the worst. The best type of love occurs organically. I think that's a safe assumption for any relationship. 

         

"The Year That Almost Wasn't"

     When King and I rang in New Year's 2018, we had a lovely, and fairly healthy dinner together.  We clinked glasses of Pinot Grigio and Stella Artois and looked at each other hopefully.  We wished for an uneventful year.  Three weeks later, I was battling a lung condition, nicotine withdrawal and missed ten days of school.  I had never missed that many days of work in my entire life. Truth. Luckily, I was able to push the "reset button" and as I learned to do that, it paved the way to handle more challenges for those I love. 

     I have watched so many loved ones this year go through so much.  It was a revolving door of bad news hitting each of us in the posterior.  2018 be gone!  As always, when I begin to worry and experienced what was happening in my personal circle , I watched how others handled their challenges.  I watched and I learned...I learned that the when someone is suffering, we don't turn our backs.  We rally around them.  We contribute and get in their faces with assistance.  We let them know they are not and will not be alone in their strife.  We extended ourselves.  Even though the suffering could not be rectified, we showed how our selflessness produced hope.  Even though the pain was real and the fear was real, in front of the suffering was hope.  Within the pain, I witnessed action.  I witnessed love first hand and it was at the point where I realized that therein was the answer.  Action and love; love and action.  This is all anyone can do.  These are the single ingredients to handling any pain. 

     In a time when anger and rudeness seem to be fashionable and in fact, fashion political success, I think about where I was at the beginning of 2018 and where I am now at the end of 2018.  I didn't see any light at the end of the tunnel six months ago.  I struggled with my health, my loved ones' health, politics, my employment.  There are no "take backs."  We walk the talk.  We find comfort in knowing what we can accept in our personal sphere and what we cannot. If the lines become blurred then we need to take a step back and reevaluate what we need to do to feel better about our situation.  We made tough decisions but hopefully the decisions are made from love and kindness, not out of anger.  We made the tough decisions because anger was the infection.  Love is the antidote.  

     2019 makes no promises to us. We need to keep our motivations in check.  We need to look out for those who can not look out for themselves. There is only our gut intuition and our support from those we love that make any year a joy or a challenge.  Family and friendship comfort us.  Community action raises us to a higher level of strength.  Happy New Year!  Goodbye 2018.  The lessons have been learned.  May peace be within our grasp.   

P.S.  Thanks to all of you who have read my columns.  I am sure there will be much to write about come January!

Yuletide and You

"The holiest of holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart."  - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

     I am watching the gray sky with a hint of pink brushing over King's mountain. A full moon looms tonight. All are signs of peace this holiday season...Peace...We all have our own definitions of that word.  Lately, for myself, peace means a hot bath and a People magazine.  A glass of Pinot Grigio  usually makes my world even more peaceful but I digress...So with my mind wandering, I thought of the following...

    My husband just returned from his last minute Christmas shopping and commented on how ridiculously rude people were.  In the stores, driving through parking lots, created an exhaustion like no other.  He is now soaking in the tub. In our present environment, anger, rudeness and a severe lack of patience seem to be the new trend and how sad for our "modern society."  We are supposed to be better.  We are supposed to care.  What happened?  What happened to civility?

     I have given this a lot of thought, as I'm wrapping gifts  (Terribly I might add...) and looking at our lovely tree with ornaments that have such sentimental value that I tear up. I am remembering.  It suddenly occurred to me that the reason behind the continual irrational behavior is, that it is been latent and festering for a very long time.  Everything has a cycle to it and realistically, we are in a very negative phase.  But it's a phase...not forever.  

     Right in time for Christmas, the government is shut down and I wonder how many us will really care about that.  We should care.  If we walked out of our jobs, took ourselves out of the equation for all the responsibilities we are supposed to care for, we would inevitably lose our jobs.  I doubt our government will lose theirs.  I was raised to understand that we don't walk away from our problems, we face them.  We face them with grace and with purpose. Yuletide carols, sung by a choir...not just at Christmas but all year round.

     I was five and bunking with my sisters on the eve of Christmas.  I was too excited to sleep and my sister Jenny, in her calm and poise took me to the window and asked me to look up at the sky which was crystal clear. "See that Claude," she said softly.  "That's the star of Bethlehem.  That's the north star."  I looked and I looked and in the instant of that moment, I realized that I was indeed part of something greater than myself.  I've never forgotten that. In those days when I am self-absorbed and self-centered I remember that moment.  We are not separate entities.  We are connected.  

     As my husband faced the angry horns of those impatient drivers, cars and trucks filled with their idea of what giving is, I not only felt grateful that he came home in one piece, I felt grateful we try very hard never to behave that way and when we do, we honk at each other to keep the balance.  Balance.  The line of right versus forgiveness.  The line of right versus peace.  2019 is swiftly coming toward us.  How lucky we are to have all of the comforts that are not afforded by many.  The government can shut down but it cannot make anyone forget that least most of its people have their priorities straight and for those who don't...they will understand soon enough that with a new year, comes new opportunity.  The opportunity for change...the power of change keeps the balance.  Our peace depends on how willing we are not to only see the other side but to accept the other side as well.

     Keep the yuletide bright.  Walk in someone else's shoes...be civil.  You are never alone.

"Eddie Spaghetti With The Meatball Eyes..."

     "Eddie Spaghetti with the meatball eyes!" I would chant this and run to my father as he came home from work.  Oh how I hugged him too.  My father never got tired of hugs, even when I didn't think he wanted one.  I was his "boss."  He took me everywhere, including his Hopewell Junction haunts.  He would have a beer and I would have a ginger ale with a cherry.  My father, a veteran of WWII, successful business man, "townie."  I was his mascot. Pop loved his Pall Mall cigarettes, his Pabst Blue Ribbon and good food and a good game of pool. He was a great poker player.  He loved the competition.   His only prized possession was the used olive green Mercedes that he bought many years after we were through college.  He wasn't into "things." 

     Since Christmas is almost here, I have been thinking about "Pop" lately.  He lived his life exactly the way he wanted to live it.  He had a very dry sense of humor and one Christmas Eve, I understood why humor was so important...

     Pop was 70. They found cancer in his mouth. Had he taken care to go to a dentist all those years, they would have found it earlier, removed it and he would have been fine.  A lesson for all of us...I suppose. After his diagnosis, he was scheduled for a rather horrid operation where they would remove the cancer and reconstruct his jaw. And so they did...Pop couldn't wait to get out of the hospital but it was a long frustrating stay.  Finally, the day before Christmas Eve they let Pop come home and boy was I happy.  Mom diligently and expertly decided to cook the annual rib roast.  How we all looked forward to that too.  It was almost a religious experience.  She prepared the roast but my father, would not be able to chew it.  He would never be able to eat anything properly ever again.  So, Mom did the only reasonable thing...she pureed Pop's portion of the rib roast including the gravy.  There was no way he wasn't going to have that rib roast.

     It was a tense moment though.  We all sat down and the dinner looked fabulous as usual.  A joyous, tense moment.  Mom served the beautiful vegetables and sliced the rib roast. We looked at Pop. He had everything he needed even if it was well, pureed.  Our eyes were fixated on Pop wondering what he would say.  He spooned his rib roast, ate it and said, "Jeez Mickey, the roast is tender!" We all lost it...right there and then...laughing, crying all at the same time.  I remember that moment to this day.  My father had found humor.  He embraced his circumstances and was thankful and graceful.  Christmas would ensue and we would be grateful, if not relieved.  I didn't realize it at the time but Pop had given us the greatest gift we would have ever received...laughter.  

     Four years later, he lost his battle.  The surgery had bought him four years and my mother made sure that each and every day he was eating something extraordinary.  She took all the necessary steps she knew to take.  The weekend before he died, he told me to go "raise hell" at a community theater celebration.  I didn't want to go but he told me to go.  I did raise hell and I had a very, VERY memorable time.  The next day, I went to the hospital and told him so. The blue eyes I knew so well sparkled, and the grin that always reassured me, appeared.  He was at peace.

     Humor is something we have clearly forgotten to have in our relationships, in our day to day dealings with the world. Lately, my world has been too serious and I had indeed lost my sense of direction. Today, as Christmas approaches,  Pop reminded me that when the world gets too serious, find the humor.  Find the joy. The intensity and the seriousness always finds us.  We are not immune. We will never be immune.  "Eddie Spaghetti," who by no means materialistic, or needy left me and my sisters  the secret.  Find the humor, even when the bathroom was crowded at six a.m. with your daughters,..Even when work was challenging...even when you're confronted with the passage from this world to the next.  Find the humor...raise some hell.

      

"Boundaries"

     Since my time on this earth, nothing has caused me more pain and more anxiety than being afraid to set boundaries.  When I have sat down and reflected on why this has been so incredibly difficult, it has boiled down to this one simple fear...disappointing those I love and well, anyone else in my life.  Full blown anxiety stemmed from wanting everyone in my life to not think of me with any conflict or ill will.  At this stage of my life, it has become clear to me and my well-being that setting boundaries and putting my own personal limits on what is acceptable and what is not, matters, and thus, it should matter to each and every one of us.

     There is a lot of discourse in our society these days.  As a teacher, I see the real danger of our refusal to teach our young the importance of boundaries and how to respect the space of others.  But here's the problem...they don't see this in the adults they have in their life and if they do, they are taught that they can deflate that respect if they yell loud enough. Sadly,many moms and dads are too burnt out and too tired to enforce acceptable behavior and the limitations or restrictions do not last.  Their exposure to social media and it's access 24/7 has also encouraged the behavior of "Everything I say or do is acceptable. "  My sisters and I were afraid of our parents disappointment.  Being the youngest, I was afraid of disappointing any of the adults in my family. There were always repercussions.  Always.  So when is rebellion acceptable?

     Rebellion is acceptable when we witness the bullying and the pain of others and do something about it  Then, THEN rebellion is not only acceptable but necessary.  Hatred is not acceptable or if it is part of our experience, temporarily, then we need to fill that experience with more love.  That's the simple fact.  That is the only thing historically that works and just when modern society appears to have that figured out, we get lazy and the hate below the surface, surfaces and catches us by surprise.  We are shocked, saddened and overwhelmed.  Time passes, we heal and forget to keep our ear to the ground and listen for the dangerous tremors underground.  Being assertive, setting our boundaries is necessary for survival.  Self-help author, Henry Cloud has said, "We get what we tolerate." We have grown to tolerate too much.  We need to take the blinders off.  Social media gives everyone a voice which is healthy and yet, dangerous. The boundaries disappear. This is when the innocent get hurt.  There  has to be a balance between what is sensible and what is simply down right disgraceful.

     Those who have had no boundaries and then develop the skills to enforce theirs, often shock those around them. Changes occurred and now, those who are on the receiving end of those changes are left to regroup.  Do not worry.  They will. Love transcends the change and if it doesn't, the relationships were not meant to endure.  We find the courage to move forward and away.  Every discussion revolving depression, anxiety, suicide, and unfortunately, random acts of violence are the result of our lack of boundaries and the hurt perpetuated by more hurt.  The sensationalism and political rhetoric do not help either.  The hope lies in what love and the unified activism can do politically.  We see that and we see the hope.

     There are many cliches I could include here, but that would be boring.  Boundaries are the emotional choices we must make to grow and move forward with our own personal. goals and passions. It is perfectly all right to say "NO."  It is perfectly all right to say, "I won't allow this in my life."  Once we are able to do that, we come stronger.  We become secure.  We feel safe.

     Finally, I can't help but think of my students when it comes to boundaries. They know what "wrong" is.  They do.  BUT, they need reminders and the adults in their lives need to remind them. I find that I must discuss boundaries with them all the time until they get it. Now, more than ever, we need to show them how to set healthy boundaries and more importantly, we need to encourage and show them how to do so first at home, and then monitor their progress each day when they return home.  The most important boundaries are not physical ones, but emotional ones. 

     

"What The Heart Knows..."

“When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.” - 

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

     There's a chill in the air today.  As I gaze out my bedroom window, I'm looking at the mixture of colors in the trees here on "King's Mountain."  Gold, orange, yellow, red, all of the colors of fall, all of the colors that remind me that soon we will experience the frost and  the cold, waiting to feel warm again.  Life will become quiet.  The cold will make us huddle closer to those we love, grateful for their warmth and their company.  This is our annual, regularly scheduled experience with loss. 

     Since the beginning of September, I have been questioning, as others have, our purpose, my purpose.  Life has become routine, predictable and with each passing day, I have become more complacent.  I am strangely, picking and choosing my battles because well, there are just too many to choose from the day to day.  The thought of fall means Thanksgiving and then Christmas.  The two seasons where we are supposed to be counting our blessings.  The loss of color is superseded by love and the spirit of giving.  We are also conscious of loss.  We are forced to wait for winter to end and soon the colors return.

     My heart is grateful and fearful at the same time.  I do not like what I see in the news.  I do not like what I see at the supermarket, at the mall, at the gas station or on the roads.  I see anger in my students.  I see their complacency and acceptance the idea that it is acceptable to hurt each other physically and emotionally.  These things always existed but not in such a continual and consistent way.  Meanness is indeed fashionable and part of our day to day communication.  My heart grieves.  It also knows that in my grief, there has to be a change of seasons...so to speak.  Nothing everything stays the same.  It all changes whether we want it to or not.  My grief stems from the fear of where all of the aggressiveness and meanness is heading.  We are of course in a "fall/winter" in our history and spring and summer can NOT come soon enough.   

     When did violence and hatred become so fashionable and marketable? When did this officially happen? Historically, in our grief we needed answers. The violence in front of us has left us helpless. Numb. We respond for the sake of our sanity and safety.  Over the last decade we saw that we could evolve and that the lines had finally been blurred with respect to honoring the diversity of our society. But underlying all of that change, we didn't see how vulnerable we still were.  With every violent act and incident, we are reminded that perception is everything. We can't live in denial forever though.  For the heart, civility and civil rights are more important now than they ever were and we have been too complacent.  We got spoiled by the progress.  We forgot that human beings are capable of hate as much as they are capable of love.  The two go hand in hand.  We love.  We hate. Somewhere in the middle lies sanity and common sense and societal peace.

     The heart knows what it knows.  The heart leads us to the correct answers.  How I wish we would follow what our heart tells us rather than following the herd of indifference.  The older I get, the less indifferent I am becoming.  I care more now than I ever have about the freedom, to vote, to live. I care about our youth and their misconceptions and their feelings of entitlements. I care that our young become more educated and empathetic. I care about nature.   I care more about staying healthy and my loved ones being ABLE to stay healthy.  I care about the dignity of our elderly.  I care about our safety and our well-being.  Let's make love more fashionable than hate.  Let's extend our hearts to what is fair and just. Let's not accept indifference, violence and chaos.  We are better than that.  Our hearts, my heart believes this to be true.  My heart has to believe it is true.  Everything else spells danger.  Everything else clouds our truth. My heart knows what it knows.  My mind knows too.
  
     

     

"My Life is a Flea Market."

"So many roads. So many detours. So many choices. So many mistakes." 

 - Sarah Jessica Parker

     The husband and I decided to go a well-known outdoor flea market this weekend.  We try to go a couple of times each year because not only do we collect "stuff" (that never gets used) but we love to be outside, poking around the booths hoping to find that magical treasure that will transcend our home.  There's a magic in holding hands, finding joy in the insignificant and not so insignificant booths of socks, antiques, furniture, toys missing their paint, old record albums, tapes and foods. So many unwanted items waiting for a second chance or a revival. As we walked around on that relatively chilly fall afternoon, I thought about how much my life represented a giant flea market.

    For many reasons, I have been feeling defeated by a number of incidents lately. Flea markets make me conscious of how much time has passed as the husband and I saw so many reminders of our youth.  When we're young, we had the  energy and the time to venture from booth to booth and everything looked so appealing.  We wanted it all.  We felt so free to wander.  The young can preoccupied with a multitude of things and never tire of searching.  My attention was drawn to anything and everything.  I was free to pick up, touch, smell, talk.  There was no timetable.  Wandering meant freedom.  My attention was free to go anywhere I wanted it to go. 

     My life has been a flea market.  My thoughts, my behavior have taken so many detours to observe, try, accept and reject the tangible and the intangible.  Memories are alive and well at the flea market.  Some of those memories I long to sell and unload to someone more equipped to handle them. Others I will never let go of because I love the clutter.  I hold on to them because they comfort me.  I am also reminded of how much I have changed.  I have unloaded an endless number to intangibles that have indeed held me back only to be replaced by more advanced truths.  The most significant truth being that nothing lasts forever unless we maintain it and cherish it the way those precious mementos and memories are meant to be.  

     My life has been a flea market.  I may not spend as much time, energy or money as I once did, but taking that much needed trip back in time, I am no longer torn in so many directions causing me to feel lost and sometimes alone. I realized that some things will never change and some things most definitely do...all for the right reasons.  We can go back in time at a flea market but it will cost you.  

"See you in September..."

“I’ve come to a frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in the classroom. It’s my personal approach that creates the climate. It’s my daily mood that makes the weather. As a teacher, I possess a tremendous power to make a child’s life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated and a child humanized or dehumanized." - Haim G. Ginott

     The summer's over and a teacher's anxiety begins in real time.  It's not just nervous anticipation about the classroom that is felt.  Turn on the news, and witness all of the changes taking place throughout the country with respect to public education and you will witness genuinely serious concerns.  The cultures of schools are changing with necessary vengeance.  The blinders are off. 

     There's a great deal we could say about our experiences in public education.  As a young person, it was never my intention to become a teacher.  All I wanted do to was to help people, to be of service or work with the public in some capacity.  I wanted to be a pastor,  writer, an actor, a baker, a butcher, a candle stick maker.  I wanted to do everything and anything.  Who needed focus when there was so much ahead in "adult-land?" I could do anything I wanted to do when I turned 18 and I did. The beauty and the stupidity of youth was never wasted on me.

     At 57, in my thirteenth year of teaching, every summer that has gone by there has been the personal ritual of licking my wounds from the school year and regrouping from the exhaustion from all of the middle school interaction. (Five performances a day folks. Don't forget to tip your waitress.").  As years go by, It would appear that the older I get, the less important it is to be "right."  Being kind, seems to have taken precedent and as September looms, it's that emphasis that has me fixated on making sure I am above all, teaching from the heart. 

     For any teacher, September means starting with a fresh outlook, and hopefully fresh ideas as well.  Creativity becomes our greatest motivator.  The slate is clean.  We will be observed and critiqued and observed again and let's not forget about tested.  Our students get tested and we will be tested. In those moments, individuality and personal care goes out the window.  Scores become the indicator.  Did we in fact do our jobs or not?  My physical exhaustion in June, tells me all I need to know about how hard I worked. That unfortunately is not an acceptable measurement of teacher effectiveness. 

     Teaching is a political adventure. In September, we begin not only answering to our students, but their parents, their guardians, our colleagues, our administrators, our school boards and the public at large.  We answer to local, state and federal decision-making.  When a student fails, we all fail. Parents, teachers, administrators, society at large. It will be up to the one who failed to reestablish personal priorities and figure out how to regroup.  This has happened time and time again.  We feel we are the ones who failed when a student fails. I am not speaking for my colleagues, but I know how are hard it is to watch a student sabotage themselves and turn their backs on the help that is readily made available to them, each and every day.  I think most of my colleagues would agree. We show our concern each and every school day. We're not perfect by any means. We lick our wounds.  We move forward because we are committed to do so. 

With September looming,  I hope for nothing more than a year filled with success and joy for all of us.  Let us not forget to laugh.  For our kids, their families, our colleagues, support staff, our administration and everyone else who has a part to play in the well-being and safety of a public school, my respect and my heart knows the value you give without asking for anything in return. This may sound dramatic but we all answered the "calling" to work with the young.  It is a "calling."  September looms...we are again called to perform the multitude of responsibilities to protect and educate those kids in our charge.  So I'll be there in September with my colleagues and when the bell rings, we will all be ready with all of the survival skills we've accumulated and some, some that remain to be learned...

"What Are the "Shoulds" in LIfe?"

"The human brain has 100 billion neurons, each neuron connected to 10 thousand other neurons. Sitting on your shoulders is the most complicated object in the known universe." - Michio_Kaku

     When I was a kid, Mom insisted that that I go to confirmation classes at our church so I would fully understand and appreciate the Presbyterian religion.  She was confident  that I would learn all of the "shoulds" and "should nots" of life.  Altruistic as it may have been, the "shoulds" and "should nots" are not realized in bible school but in our day to day interactions.    

     Over the course of those weeks, I suppose I learned how to behave, how to "be" a better person.  What I did not learn was to how to cope with those who refused to learn those lessons as well.  That, I had to fretfully learn through the decades.  "Should I walk over to that mother screaming and shaking her three year old "to behave?""  "Should I confront the person I know is blantantly lying to me?"  "Should I lie to not hurt a person's feelings?"  Or, "Is truth always the way to freeing oneself from inevitable personal hurt?" When we feel compelled to use our "shoulds," we should be careful that the those on the receiving end appreciate the sacrifices.  To further explore this, I'd like to incorporate a few "should nots" into the mix for a small piece of sanity.  They are the following:

• We should NOT hide our weaknesses but instead wear them like a badge of honor.  This makes us less vulnerable believe it or not.
• We should NOT turn away from those who offer help.  We should NOT turn our backs to those who need OUR help.
• We should NOT be critical if we in fact can't accept criticism in return. 
• We should NOT betray a person's trust. 
• We should NOT forget to be grateful.
• We should NOT ignore or forget those who have and do love us even when our most important relationships are challenged.  We should NOT forget those who have supported our efforts without asking for anything in return.
• We should NOT love money more than ourselves or our loved ones.
• Finally, at the risk of being over-zealous, we should NOT respect others more than we respect ourselves.  Peace of mind, health come first. 

     These may sound like the roots of those old bible study days but literally, within the very fiber of our being, we know what the right thing is.  We know when we are treading on the thin ice of morality.  The trick is, is to face it and stop ourselves before any damage is done.

   

"Through the Looking Glass..."

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you." -  Rumi

     If you need to seek the truth about a personal issue or problem, look in the mirror.  There are moments when I am sitting in front of a mirror, putting on my makeup or fixing my hair and I look and marvel at what my face is showing me.  You can run but you can't hide from what your face, and in particular your eyes are telling you.

     If we are paying close attention, we are shown a great deal.  Through the years, I have to admit that I wasn't paying that close attention.  Now I do.  I see each and every worry line and wrinkle.  The ones I developed leaving home for good and renting my first apartment. On the day I got married, I remember after my hair and makeup were done, I looked in the mirror and hardly recognized myself.  Who was this risk-taker? 

     Your face shows every success, every painful event, every milestone.  The eyes are the truth-sayers.  They never lie.  As I am forced to look in the mirror, I see all the fears, the tears and the adventures that I have had the privilege to have and the ones I long to take before it's too late. It is our face that tells us what we need to do when we are faced with a problem or at a crossroads and know full well that change is eminent.  If we look closely, we see visibly what we need to do. The face in the mirror, has lost and won. Grieved and screamed with laughter.   

     Our eyes show perspective.  When we are not healthy, they show us that too.  Try as we might, we can't ignore what we see in the mirror.  The wounds, inside and out, like the joy are visible.  If we have the courage, and let go of the pain, we see a new light come into the eyes.  

     And it's funny or maybe not, when you run into someone you haven't seen a loved one in quite a while and the first thing that happnes is you get the verbal report..."You look great!" or "You look tired. Are you all right?"  The face, the eyes tell all and I believe that if we paid more attention to a loved one's face, we would know all that we need to know and haven't been told.

     

"The Fears That Bind..."

"You always have two choices: your commitment versus your fear." - Sammy Davis Jr.

Dramatic irony.  When an audience or reader knows something that the character in a movie or book does not. We all live with an element of dramatic irony.  None of us knows when a legitimate fear may come towards us and if that's true, knowing how to handle those fears becomes next to impossible.  Oh how it be so much easier if we could be warned. 

I can think of many times throughout my life when I was incredibly fearful of someone or a situation.  As a kid, I was definitely afraid of my parents.  I was afraid of this kid who bullied me on the school bus.  I was afraid of my math teacher in seventh grade.  He was a very, VERY tall man. I saw him reprimand a kid in the hallway and boy, I wouldn't have wanted to be that kid for all the tea in China.  I was afraid of not understanding what I was being taught.  The harder something was for me to learn, the more fearful I became.

I've been afraid of how others perceive my intentions.  First impressions, the first day of a new job, a first date, first kiss, a last date, fear permeates all of those instances.  We survive.  We even grow to appreciate them and look back on those firsts with fondness and yes, even love.

Marriage is scary.  I don't care what anyone thinks. Vows exchanged mean a partnership has to ensue. There will undoubtedly be "better or worse."  The upside to this is with the right partner, you witness loyalty, vulnerability, and trust that no one else that came along was going to provide.

I've been fearful of change.  The first day of college was terribly fearful.  The day I graduated from college, terrifying.  Graduating,  meant I had to move forward and find a job. The first time we experience the death of a loved one perpetuates so much change.  We understand that we are not invincible. Loss can make us refocus and jump into the world with both feet. But it's the fear above all that catapults us to change.  We will not live forever and that we had better make damn sure we approach each day with a gratitude that we have another day.  

Then there are the "What ifs..." of fear.  We overthink.  We don't want to disappoint those we love or ourselves by a failure so that fear alone prevents us from a necessary movement. If we can manage to make a change and ignore the "What ifs," we often find out that although the move or change is extremely difficult, we come out having learned a great deal.  When we come out the other side, we have more to offer not only to ourselves but to others. 

If we think about each and every time we've been fearful, we realize that we are no different than the person sitting next to us.  We find, if given the opportunity, that the very people we argue with or have a problem with, are just as fearful as we are.  Perhaps if we focused more on accepting the idea that humans by their very nature experiene fear (or the fight or flight behaviors) and admitting them, we would be willing to accept the differences in others, and find the common ground. We would in fact be less quick to judge and have a more accepting society.  I find myself thinking about this each and every time I find myself disliking someone or I find myself getting angry with someone's behavior.  They have fears. I have fears. I then walk away and find my peace.

"Why Teachers Lose Their Faith..."

"Calm mind brings inner strength and self-confidence, so that's very important for good health." - Dali Lama

"How do I keep my faith?" "How do I stay positive?" For twelve years of my teaching career, I've asked these same questions with no definitive answer or methodology except for this...The success I've had has been directly related to giving my students, my kids, a purpose.  Without purpose, no one moves a muscle to go further in their growth or in their happiness. I have witnessed and experienced a great deal of heartache as a teacher of junior high students.  At the same time, I have witnessed and experienced a happiness and a joy beyond anything I could have imagined and that almost was not a possibility.  Giving kids a purpose, energizes them and makes them eager to learn.  That's what I've been doing these past years and now I understand that purpose and gratitude creates the mobility we need to see in our young people.

In my twenties, I was told many times over that I wouldn't make it as a teacher. Being just shy of 4'11" in height,  I was told I wasn't physically able to manage a classroom of high school students. (True story.)   That was told to me at the age of 26 by a professor at college. I was told this by principals and teachers early on in my career who lacked innovation, creativity and yet, were as negative and deplorable as one can be. This was back in 1987. Teaching jobs were at a premium then. Today, I look at my past career path and realize that as ugly as it was, I took the next twenty years and went into the business world and grew up and licked my wounds. I had managers and  supervisors who allowed me to grow without fear, without provocation, and thankfully, respectfully my strength and my confidence grew.  That's what we need to do with our teachers.  We need to encourage them to find and then keep their joy and let them be comfortable in their own skin.

Why do teachers lose faith?  The answer is because it's still too easy to crush their enthusiasm by not empowering them and accepting their individuality to grow as a teacher.  We are shocked and disgusted when this happens to our kids. We should not be doing this to our new teachers either. More and more students are becoming "reluctant learners."  At the same time, teacher shortages are being predicted.   Apparently, fewer and fewer people are seeing the positives to a teaching career.  Education is going by the wayside and the smart phone and iPhone are replacing our ability to focus on the fundamentals of communication, learning and even more importantly, manners.  If a student can't learn with any kind of immediate gratification, then learning has no value.

The cell phone has replaced any need for patience.  The cell phone surrounds us with twenty-four hour narcissism and this is hurting the teaching profession and it's hurting our kids, who, by the way are my kids for forty-two minutes, five periods a day.  

We all love our phones.  But in the hands of those without a fully developed hypothalamus, they are deadly.  We have plenty of proof of this too and should make all of us pause.  There has to be a shift in how we look at education.  Some of the good old-fashioned fundamentals really are healthy fundamentals that build a strong society with a sense of purpose. 

A couple of days before school let out for the summer, we were told to pack up our classrooms so they could be cleaned properly.  Before I knew it, I had students in my room, who weren't motivated to even bring a pencil to class, come and not only help me but redecorate my classroom for September.  They needed purpose and so I let them claim one for themselves.  As the last day before summer ended, I looked around my room and thought,  all that work, and not one of them looked at their phone.  Purpose.  We all need a purpose. Perhaps that is way we gain our faith when we need it most.

"Pushing The Reset Button"

"Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change." - Thomas Hardy

    85 days ago, I made a severely, difficult change.  I quit smoking...for good.  I had returned from my sixth appointment with an acupuncturist (to quit smoking by the way) and as I was driving home, I became feverish.  In short, I became severely ill with a bronchial illness I wouldn't wish on anyone.  As the days went by, I got sicker and let me just say that what was surfacing from my lungs scared my husband, and it scared me.  After five days, I sucked it up and went to the doctor and began my journey. I began my change.  It didn't take a genius to figure out that I very desperately needed to save myself, from myself.

     For as long as I remember, I had challenges.  I was overweight most of my life.  I had a few years of living a healthier track but along with that I smoked.  I smoked with my friends who smoked.  We connected. We smoked and we connected some more.  I foolishly thought those connections would never, ever hurt me.  I never went to the doctor for a yearly physical.  I was untouchable.  I could...in fact, handle anything. The 40's changed all of that.

I got married.  I got my master's and became a teacher.  I ate whatever made me feel good. I smoked to release the continual anxiety of a new career.  The "teacher" in me was cultivating the "care-taker" in me but I was not taking care of myself.  My husband saw this, noticed this. I ignored it.  I was taking care of everyone but myself.  This becomes an all too familiar trap for many.  We become last.  We accept being last. 

     Four years, ago, still smoking, the untouchable me got touched.  I lost partial vision in my right eye due to a spike in sugar.  A blood vessel burst behind my retina.  The attribution, sugar.  That again began the push of the reset button.  My husband, with health concerns of his own and I decided to change.  We filled the fridge with vegetarian chili, no gluten, no sugar, a carbohydrate once a day. We gave up dairy.  We gave up everything we thought was causing us problems. There are vegetables, proteins from many sources but very little if any beef. No pizza.  No ice cream.  No Snickers. No bagels. All gone.  No wine...although a glass once in a while now is acceptable. No pasta, unless it was gluten free or believe it or not, there is a fabulous pasta made from chic peas. There are supplements I take routinely and without fail. My body changed.  The weight that I could never, ever take off for any length of time, came off.  Everyone noticed.  I marched back into my world changed.  Or so I thought I had changed.  See I was still smoking.  My doctor would tell me that things were better but I was still attached to tobacco.

     When I got sick, it was the first time I have ever really been terrified.   I thought about everything I had done in my life.  I had had tunnel vision. After the doctor sent me to a pulmonary specialist, I was told that as long as I never touched another cigarette, I would dodge the proverbial bullet.  I had quit smoking for good. 

     I cried constantly. The withdrawal, the havoc on my body was truly the only hell I have ever known.  It is true, that we create our  own personal hell.  It's called being human.  I recently went back to the doctor. He told me my lungs were clear and then he told me, "Claudia, not everyone gets the chance to hit the reset button."  I cried all the way home from his office knowing full well he was right.  Now I had to heal and forgive myself...for being so incredibly blind.

     Fear is of course the great motivator.  Many have asked me, "How do I reset myself?" The answer is different for each of us.  What I will say is that it usually takes a scare, a face to face with loss that motivates change.  Am I happier? Probably not.  We all like to be free to eat whatever we want and do whatever we want without consequence.  That's naive. The truth is when we finally make a change, we get more peace of mind...eventually.  We become stronger. Suddenly, no one can make us feel inadequate because we have fought battles that no one will ever understand.  That's the secret folks.  Overcoming  what was familiar and routine gives us the courage to come out from hiding and show who we really are. 

     If it makes anyone feel better, an occasional cookie, a glass of wine, is always a good idea.  It keeps me sane.  Hitting the reset button at this stage in my life has been the most painful, challenging and most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. Try it. Change one thing. One single thing.  Before you know it, it opens other doors.  People notice without my having said a word, that I don't play the game the way I used to play it. When you take your health seriously, people take you seriously.  Everything is much more real now and I like it that way.

     So for those who wanted to know, now you know. If I can help even one person by writing this testimonial, then good. I'm paying my good fortune forward to another who perhaps isn't sure how to get unstuck.  I've learned that out of fear, comes education, a greater love of self. What a wonderful, joyful feeling that is!

"Puff, Puff, There Is No Magic Dragon..."

"Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it thousands of times." - Mark Twain

I am very, or was, very good at lying to myself.  I was very good, VERY good at lying to others too only they knew the truth but loved me enough to simply let me lie.  What was I lying to myself about for over 30 years?  Smoking...addiction, smoking.  Sometimes a half a pack a day.  Sometimes more.  I smoked when I was celebrating.  I smoked when I was grieving or under a lot of pressure to perform.  I smoked to be social.

I was in college.  My theater buddies, my writing buddies all smoked.  There were a few exceptions but mostly, we smoked together, laughed together, worked together.  We had a camaraderie that I will never forget.  How I loved the socialization and the connections with those people.  My father smoked.  My dearest aunts, two of them, smoked.  For me, it just seemed normal. However, what appears normal is often the most harmful and the most dangerous for any of us.   I broke the hearts of those who love me by lying to myself. This is probably the hardest pill I have had to swallow on my journey. 

When college ended, I quit.  I never smoked around my family.  It wasn't until I officially moved out of the house, that I smoked habitually.  I was free.  I was on my own and I had the freedom to do whatever I pleased...or so I thought.  At 56, nearly 57, I was not free at all but chained to anxiety, negativity and a huge lack of confidence.  The people who care for me, and there are many, would tell me over and over again how much they wished I would quit.  I was unable to because, I was disconnected from the warning signs.  I was disconnected from the truth.  I was hurting myself and I was hurting the people who loved me.  It's not that I was educated.  It's not that I did not know how bad smoking is for your health.  I was living in a bubble. I was in denial and I was perfectly fine with that.

A few weeks back I became ill.  It was bronchitis and it was viral and it wreaked havoc on my body for over three weeks.  I couldn't smoke. My body hurled into a massive detoxification.  I was sent to a pulmonary specialist as a precaution.  I am one of the lucky people who was told to quit and that if I did,  I would stop any damage.  That was 26 days ago.  My body is healthier but exhausted.  I feel freer than I have ever felt.  I must have tried to stop smoking a million times.  I thought of myself as weak.  I clung to my fears like my favorite pair of jeans.  

To those who criticize others who are addicted, I say, "Be careful."  We all have weaknesses. We all hide the truth from others at some point.  We project one image to the outside world, and another when we are in our own personal solitude. My salvation is in being more transparent.  But transparency is only possible when we love ourselves.  It is possible to put ourselves first and keep love in our life.  We must elicit boundaries.  We must protect ourselves by listening to our bodies.  Our imperfections are the things that make us stronger.  We can't change because others beg us to change.  We change because we finally put a value on living our personal truth and we find the gratitude for what we have and who we share our lives with each day.  We don't have to lie.  We don't have to hide.  We don't have to feel guilty.  I appreciate my weaknesses.  I defy anyone to make me feel otherwise.  

It's not a one day at a time mantra for me.  The mantra is, "You have absolutely no choice...so don't even think it."    I am free.