“I am losing this battle because I’m losing my patience.”

Where the headwaters of technology and rural living converge is where you’ll find the current of my life.  Incongruous?  Perhaps at first, but I find the two merge quite nicely.  I enjoy the fact that I can spend my Friday morning linked to whomever in the world I need to be, wherever they happen to be; and by late afternoon be leaning against the rails of a breaking pen watching my favorite cowboy Charlie lead in a mare who is convinced saddles, bridles, and cowboy accoutrement in general is the source of all horror in the world. 

The troubles of one mare and the cowboy charged with fixing them could prove to be a pleasant distraction from my own workaday issues.  No ringing phones, incoming emails, or inter-office drama.  Simply, one horse and one guy that doesn’t particularly care for said horse to buck the next person that gets up on her over the fence and into a cactus.  And so they begin.  Charlie saddles up the mare and, sensing what’s about to occur, she gives a pretty violent display of her bucking and lunging abilities.  Not wanting to fight that fight quite yet, our cowboy decides to let his charge blow off a little steam, snaps her on the hind end and sets her off at a pretty good pace around the pen.  This leaves Charlie in the middle, doing very little other than leaning back on his spurs and watching his issue circle him over and over and over.  Every ten minutes or so, she slows up a little, Charlie steps towards her, she snorts or stomps or snaps and the whole process of circling begins anew.  This goes on.  And on.  And on a little longer.   

Progress, however imperceptible, is being made.  Each time the mare is approached she is a little more weary of the process, a little less wary of Charlie.  She is, however, nowhere near what he wants the end product to be and Charlie is occasionally not a patient man.  “Lets move this along,” he announces, pulls his hat down, and hops aboard.  What happened next was not good – twenty minutes of bucking, kicking, and occasional bouts of swearing (by Charlie, not the horse).  Ten minutes of exertion and excitement.  Nearly an hour of prior progress lost.

Sitting in the dirt, Charlie looks at me, looks at the mare, considers the situation.  Dusting himself off, he announces, “I am losing this battle because I’m losing my patience.”  And then Charlie starts over.  Back to the very beginning, he repeats each stage in the process one more time until he is back to where he had been an hour ago and then he keeps going.  As the sun goes down, the cowby and the problem horse have a working relationship.  Problems still exist, but they are being tackled in manageable increments.

So now I’m back in my office, back in the professional eddy of the current and glad that the personal side of my life flows into these waters with such relevance.  Office drama or 850 lb horses, it makes no difference, the results are the same when you hop on a problem without being prepared for how hard it’s going to kick back.  If you don’t have the patience to do it right, I can’t imagine you’ve got the time to start all over.

But The River Is Wide, And It’s Too Hard To Cross?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I write often on courage or fear, truth or lies, and on choice or indecision.  First and foremost I touch on these topics because I want to know what I have to say in regards to them – my point of view comes into much better focus when I force my consciousness to take the form and responsibility of the written word.  As a happy side effect, I have the priveledge of feedback from friends and readers.  The feedback and resulting conversations run the full spectrum of human perspective and experience, and frankly throw definitive truths right out the window on more than one or two occasions.  We all see each other and ourselves through unique eyes.

I have taken from this observation, my own particular way of learning people.  I try not to shape my opinion based soley on my own perspectives, but I try to look at what the person across the table or counter or airport terminal etc. is basing their opinion of me on.  I put some thought into what I do and say and I think and I know the “why?” questions of my life pretty well, so how does someone else’s perspective differ on my truths?  What does that tell me about theirs?

I have an ability to make people feel comfortable, to feel wanted and to feel like they can be around me without fear. As I try to remind myself often, the hardest and the best thing is to live without fear, to live in the moment. I hate being afraid, and I hate feeling weak and unwanted, and I do everything in my power to help other people from feeling those emotions as well. I like being a guide and a lighthouse for other people’s emotions, I like helping them find their way. I’m very good at it.

At least, that’s what I think.  I’ve had it pointed out to me that that part of my personality is also very frightening, very surface level.  Fear, I’ve been told, weakness and vulnerability may be painful but, “at least they’re real.”  Fear cannot be faked, but strength can.  You know the people that think like this, they do not trust you and will never be safe around you until they can break you, take you apart to see what is really there when all of your stregth and good has been stripped away.  People like this need to see you as you are without choice and the power of deduction, everything cleared away save for instinct.

But we are human, yes?  The phrase, “we’re only human,” has taken on the connotation of “flawed,” that we are prone to err as a species.  I know we’re not perfect, but I do so despise the word “only” in that phrase.  Fear, yes, is natural.  But a unique priveledge of being “only human” is that we have options.  In the face of fear we have the choice to stand up to it, to “act” brave even though every animal instinct of our being is telling us to run.  So we act in spite of our fear, and we find it hard to think oursleves brave because the feel of the fear runs through us like a cold river, and our bravery seems merely a bridge above the whitewater.  The river is a natural phenomenon, the bridge manufactured.  However, does that make the bridge any less real?  Anything less than reality is not going to suspend us above a river.  In fact, I think what we have made of our own will is a stronger statement to the truth of who we are than the natural phenomenons of our character.  We have seen the truth, accepted it, and modified ourselves and our lives to build above and beyond and over it.  We shape, not simply accept.  I cannot see anything more true than our actions.

I like being a guide and a lighthouse for other people’s emotions, I like helping them find their way. I’m very good at it.  And, I’ve become even better at it since I have learned to do it with more honesty. It isn’t my job to make other people feel good about themselves by accepting the instictive side of their personalities – it is my priveledge to nudge people in a direction where they can find themselves, grow, take action and to feel good about the actions they take on their own, without false pretenses.

I know I don’t always have to be strong, and act like I know what I’m doing, because I can be weak and unsure as well. However, I will refuse to let anyone tell me that I shouldn’t always strive to be a stronger person. I won’t let anyone tell me that I don’t always have to be strong just so they can see me break. I need to remember that when I look for the truth in other people, I find it in myself as well.  And when I look for the truth in myself, I’ll find the people I want to know already there by my side.

 

 

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Thank you for traveling with Charming My Life today, we hope you enjoy your flight.

No, I will not be passing out an in-flight snack.

Moving on…

Insight hides in the most mundane of places.  Pre-flight safety instructions, for example.  I admit, I rarely tune into the flight attendants’ spiel anymore.  As the speech begins, so does my in-flight nap.  Bring on the beverage cart.  I’ve spent enough time in airports and on airplanes to consider myself adequately savvy in the safety department; but as I was considering this last night it occurred to me there are more useful elements within the standard flight deck diatribe than using my seat cushion as a flotation device in the event of a water landing somewhere between Phoenix, AZ and Denver, CO.

“If you are next to a small child or someone needing assistance, secure your own mask first, then assist the passenger next to you.”

People like to be helpful.  Give us an opportunity and we’ll offer assistance.  Perhaps because we’re genuinely nice people, or perhaps because we like the pat on the back and “thank you” we tend to get as a result.  Who doesn’t like to be the hero?  Even closer to our emotional centers is the question, “who wants to be the person that lets someone else down?”  Our drive for that instantaneous personal validation is not, in and of itself, a bad thing.  However, in our rush to make sure the people around us keep breathing we forget that we too need the oxygen.  There’s a reason you put the mask on yourself first when on the airplane – the same reason you better make sure you’re emotionally belted in before you grab a hold of someone being tossed about.  The best help we can often offer is to realize we need to step back and take care of ourselves for a moment first.

The fear of watching people we care about choke triggers a panic response, a panic that we attempt to resolve by throwing resources we have and resources we only wish we had at the issue.  We feel better for a second, but what we attempt to do in that second compounds the issue as we commit to promises we can’t keep and write checks we can’t cash.  I’m here to tell you, if I’m drowning I don’t care how loudly I’m screaming for you to help me, I would much rather have you turn and walk away to grab a life preserver than have you jump right in and drown alongside of me as we struggle.  Trust me, I’ll scream for you in the moment but thank you later. 

There are good intentions in those who offer help all of the time, good results from those who take the time to know when they actually can.

Thank you for your attention, please feel free to relax and move about the blog.

  

Pride Cometh Before The Salad Course

I spent a good portion of this weekend away from the computer.  I took my new camera out and about, walked the dog, ate out by myself, and did a considerable amount of reading.  A fine weekend with plenty of time for myself.

“Alone time” frightens some people.  Rarely do I catch a single out for dinner at a nice restaurant or at a movie.  Occasionally they’re lurking in coffee shops, but inevitably barricaded behind books or laptops or PDA’s.  “Yes, I’m alone here, but I’m connecting with someone, somewhere.”  I, on the other hand, relish my “me time.”  I like my own company and I like focusing specifically on my own pursuits without having to explain to or engage anyone else as to my preferences or choices.  If my company for the evening is nothing more than a rib-eye and a plate of garlic mashed potatoes?  Color me a happy girl.

That rib-eye craving prompted a stroll down to my favorite corner grille last night.  Walker’s is an upscale little downtown locale, so I took some time to fix up before I headed out.  It showed, it seemed, as the waiter who asked for my drink order prefaced his inquiry with, “would you like me to take your drink order now, or give the rest of your party a moment to arrive?”

“I’ll order now,” I replied, “I’m flying solo tonight.”

“Oh.  Okay,” he nodded with concerned chagrin.  Clearly my dark haired twenty-something server was more than a little baffled at the notion.

“Don’t worry,” I laughed, “it’s by choice.  It’s okay, really.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he recovered, “you just seem really fixed up not to be meeting someone.”  I smiled.  He blushed.  Off he went to procure my Basil Hayden.

Even when the point is only to occupy ourselves, we can’t help but to have an impact on other people – how we look, what we say, what we do.  Presentation, in life or on the dinner plate at Walker’s Bar and Grille, is everything.  Whether it be ourselves or what we do, how can we not approach our pursuits with a sense of pride and care that reflects the essence of what we engage in?

I’m going to pause for a moment to clarify a few things for the people that know me and realize that I nurture a healthy disregard for convention and for what other people think.  There’s a distinction here:  I do not care what people think if I’ve communicated what I mean in a clear and accurate way and they choose not to accept it.  I do care about the communication.  Have I given proper respect to myself and my own pursuits?  Are my actions a reflection of the pride I have for myself and my motives?

I enjoy steak, and the rib-eye at Walker’s is a fine cut of beef.  When my waiter brought mine to the table last night; it arrived accented by a cracked peppercorn sauce swirled decoratively around the rim of the plate, garlic mashed potatoes in a floret pouffe, and a spray of steamed asparagus arranged in a fancy bouquet topped with another decorative swirl of hollandaise.  It was a beautiful thing.  Now imagine the same steak coming to the table on a plate that hadn’t been washed, or by a waiter with the plate in one hand and the garbage sack from the kitchen in the other, half interested in your meal and half interested in getting the leaky Glad bag out to the back alley.  Same steak, totally different presentation and clearly a much different level of regard for the task and product at hand.  I would guarantee a much different reaction from the recipient of said steak as well.  If I hadn’t cared for my meal last night, it would have been an issue of personal preference and not for lack of trying and pride in their work by the restaurant crew.

So how do you present yourself?  How do you represent your actions, your desires, the essence of who you are day to day?  When you plate your life and send it out of the kitchen, are you proud of what you see?  Be conscious of presentation; your life is your product, give it the credit it deserves.     

 

Go Your Own Way

“Every man has his own courage, and is betrayed because he seeks in himself the courage of other persons.”

I am tempted to follow up this quote with a post that reads, simply, “just be yourself.”  Brevity, however, is not one of my strong points.  Nor is the depth of my feeling on this topic a shallow pool.  This blog came into being as a result of and as a reaction to the rampant apathy toward personal responsibility and individual character that I encounter on a day to day basis.  Occasionally, on a minute to minute basis.   When did we all become so horribly guilty to be ourselves that even the tragically unique facets of our culture have turned into a homogeneous emo glob? 

We essentially have one job in this life:  to navigate from the beginning to the end in a way that reflects the truth of the person we are.  As we go, elements beyond our control, both people and circumstances, move against us and with us in an emotional Brownian motion.  We are touched continually by these outside influences, and we learn from them, but when did it become a rule that we have to BE them?  Or that they be us?

Courage is simply a decision that what you want is more important than the fear surrounding it.  The desires of my heart and the desires of everyone else’s, if we’re all honest with ourselves, are entirely unique things.  Therefore the strength required to achieve ourselves is also entirely unique.  Achieving someone else’s standards means little if we are personally left unfulfilled.  Or for that matter, overwhelmed. 

Seek your own truth today.  Find the courage to follow it.

The Impulsive Intellect And Her Plate Of Fish Tacos.

Last Sunday night a conversation with a new friend turned to the fabulous Mahi Mahi tacos served at a seaside restaurant not far from where he lives.  Cold beer, fish tacos, the scent of saltwater wafting on the breeze…  Sounded like the perfect place to launch a long Memorial Day weekend.

Ten minutes later I was printing out my flight confirmation.

Dinner a few states away is certainly not a life shattering experience, nor is meeting a new friend face to face for the first time, but those events combined and the ten minutes it took to coordinate them into a vacation and a significant debit card hit caused a few raised eyebrows amongst the day to day population of this writer’s life.  ”I admire your ability not to over analyze,” one friend commented, “or to analyze at all.”

I like that I come across that way.

The truth of the matter is that it’s a good idea to know where the extinguisher is before the grease fire, a host should start the tiramisu in advance of guests arriving, a souffle is always ordered at the beginning of the meal, and it’s nothing less than essential to know who you are and what you want before you’re forced to try and sort it out amidst a situation of personal or professional chaos. 

There’s no pressing need for me to plumb my inner psyche as I’m standing in the shower each morning like there’s no point in running a couple miles today when the marathon is still a month away.   No immediate consequences for not commiting to the training, but I assure you it’s worth the ten minutes (20 if I deep condition) to go ahead and do it anyway.  The at ease analytics is simple, “what do I have to do today?  How am I going to get those things done?  How do I feel about that?  Why do I feel that way?”  An active thought process forms a mental memory the same way our bodies develop a muscle memory in response to physical exertion.  When confronted physically, the “instict” of reaction that seems so smooth and automatic is no more than a result of past training.  Same with the thoughts that bounce around inside our heads. 

I know a couple of things about myself:  I value the experiences in life more than the monetary cost of attaining them.  Friendship, or the possibility thereof, trumps fear of the unknown any day.  If the situation was not what I want it to be, I’m capable enough of navigating myself out of it and back home.  I really enjoy a good plate of fish tacos.  And, I didn’t work any of this out in the ten minutes between the invitation to fly to Puget Sound and hitting the “Enter” button on my Expedia transaction.

Impulsive?

Perhaps the specifics of the decision were, but the spirit of it was something analyzed some time ago.

 

Wit And Wisdom From The Airport Lounge.

For the depths of the human experience, language often falls well short of expressing our essence.  Don’t believe me?  Describe the first time you fell in love and make me feel it just like you did.  Uh huh, that’s what I thought.  

Nevertheless, the power of our own words to dictate our thoughts is still more significant than we may like to give credit to.  When we are careless with the materials of our thought, the architecture of our thinking tends to be built up a little crooked.

Airport lounges are great places to ponder such mysteries of the human process.  I recently had some time to kill in Denver, so I spent my layover in the company of a good friend and a bad Bloody Mary.  Over the course of the conversation he told me about an exercise in which he removes certain words from his day to day lexicon, forcing his brain to reroute his train of thought down a different side track.

Interesting.  Growth through handicap.

Thus, in the interest of growth, I have eliminated the word “why” this week.  Odd choice?  Perhaps, as ”why” is good for so many positive things.  However, it is also the root of significant thought-process-decaying evil.  “Why do I have to do this?”  “Why didn’t that happen?”  And so on and so forth.  You get the picture.  Today I am instead being forced to think along the lines of, “I am the one doing this, how can Iget it done more efficiently?”  “That didn’t happen so what can I do to readjust my strategy?”  See the trend?  This rerouted line of thinking also forces me to pause before the first thing to enter my brain comes flinging out of my face.  I have to stop and actually consider what I’m doing and saying.  Novel concept, I know.

So, challenge for the day:  pick a word, and GET RID OF IT.  Leave me a comment if you like, tell me the word you chose, and then leave another comment describing how the experiment went.  We can discuss the results over Bloody Marys.

Introduction.

I could have thought of a snappier title, but simple can sometimes be best.

I once was told I “live a charmed life.”

“Charmed life?”

This struck me as odd.  By my count, rather a significant number of bad things have been known to occur in my particular corner of time and space.  I pointed this fact out to the genleman who had offered his commentary.  “Maybe,” he agreed rather skeptically, “but it all turns out for you.” 

Pardon?

It was not simply my curiosity and/or confusion over his words that stuck with me over the years, but the manner in which he spoke them:  he came across as downright accusatory.  “What did I do?” I wondered periodically, until one day, several years and many relationships after the fact, it struck me:  I lived.  That’s what I did.  “Live.”  As a verb. 

Life is motion.  We move by choosing.  We choose by thinking.  Our thoughts are the charms we apply to our lives.  There is no mystical outside force steering us one way or the other; all of the magic that happens to us or doesn’t is self-perpetuating.  Heavy load to bear?  Consider the weight of the alternative.

In light of that I think, perhaps, that the gentleman who made that observation years ago was right.  I do live a charmed life.  I live.