Living and Learning

We learn far more from our mistakes than our successes, in which case I should be very wise indeed, given that I've had a lot more misses than hits in my life.  But I figure on the acquired wisdom and knowledge scale, I'm just about where I should be.  So I'll just keep breathing and walking through it all and see what comes up to upgrade my status.  Maybe nothing ever will.  Maybe I'll never have that pivotal moment, that flash of deep insight where everything comes together and I'll finally "get it."  Such revelations usually come only when one spends their whole life dedicated to finding peace and enlightenment, a state of consciousness Buddhists refer to as samadhi.  I guess I'll have to settle for the lay-person's version of wisdom.

I keep this online journal of mine to check in on myself every once in a while, to see how I'm doing.  Sharing my thoughts forces me to be very aware of what I'm saying.  I have to think twice before I write something down for all the world to read.  (That's a relative notion, of course.)
I write about my own world to create more "successes" in my life - to accomplish something, small though it may be.  Just finishing one little blurb is a small achievement for me.  It doesn't give me fame, or glory, or riches.  All I get is a little satisfaction for briefly and lightly expressing myself, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, someone out there will hear me.  If not, at least I can come back here, weeks or months or even years later, and read how I was doing, and what mattered to me at this time in my life.  (I just hope nothing will embarrass me the way some of the entries in my old-fashioned paper-bound journals do.  Oh well, there's always "delete.")
In the vast scheme of things, my little web is inconsequential, and I don't really care, because I don't aspire to changing the world, or making a difference.  My schemes and dreams aren't that grand.  In fact, if I could leave things at least the way I found them, with as little evidence that I came by this way, I'd be fine with that.  But it's too late.  I'm taking up space, consuming, and polluting, all the time, just by the mere fact that I'm alive.  So I'm trying to do less of those things these days, too.  I'm doing my best to rid my life of excess, both physically and psychologically.  The less I consume and acquire, the less space I take up, and the less I pollute.  But I fail on a daily basis, and most of the time for the most selfish reasons.  But geez, sometimes a cold beer on a hot day is a great way to celebrate something, or just plain chill out.  And as long as I do it consciously and gratefully, I like to think that I'm still part of the solution, and not part of the problem.
Most of the time conscious living is as simple as making the right choice.  Granted, making the right choice may be a simple solution, but it's not always easy.  Choices aren't always just black or white; life includes many shades of grey, too.  (And I don't mean that dreadful, smutty book that's getting so much undeserved attention these days.)
I'm not an activist, nor am I a true contemplative.  But I can actively live out my beliefs and values, which are, I hope, aligned with the greater good.  Every day I'm more aware of the consequences of my actions.  That's a full-time, life-long practise.  Following that path doesn't have to be onerous; in fact, it can be a joyous pursuit, and like any discipline, it gets easier to achieve the more one practises. 
Every moment I feel well and enjoy the simple act of breathing and being alive is a "success."   I've come to realise those moments are happening more and more for me. That's when I'm not dwelling on my past, or mired in memories of all the mistakes I've made, or worrying that I'm not making a difference.  All I have to do to feel good about who I am is to pay attention, to listen to other people and to myself, i.e. my body, and then attend to what I hear and see.  I'm no good to anyone else if I'm not good to myself.  No doubt I'll keep making mistakes, but as long as I keep learning from them, I'll be a wiser woman.  There's nothing wrong with that. 
- G.P.

Beautiful Beltane

It's May Day - the first day of May and the rest of my life.  (Pardon the cliche, but I suspect there will be a few more before I finish this particular blurb.)  Anyway, I'm writing in my online journal to set the tone for the rest of my life - as today goes, so goes the month, year, etc...  So I have to get some writing in today.
Come to think of it, that's an awful lot of pressure to put on this silly, insignificant little piece of wordsmithery.  But I just can't shake the magical thinking habit.  I've been thinking that way as long as I can remember, so I know only too well how it can lead one down the path of disappointment and delusion.  I shouldn't be writing with any expectation or hope that indulging in such superstitious activities will have an effect on an unknown future.  I guess I'll just have to settle for enjoying how the words seem to magically appear on the screen as I move my fingers over the keyboard.  That's awesome enough as it is.  No really.  I'm having fun.  And when I finish writing this bit of nonsense and find the perfect picture to illustrate it, and then hit "publish" on the dashboard to view the finished entry, it'll be even more awesome. 

Enough said.  I've done my occasional first-of-the-month ritual and feel better for it.  Besides, my sister's bugging me to write more, so here it is.  If writing a few words about absolutely nothing on this very fine and first day of May is all I need to make myself feel good, I guess I must be okay.  Would that every day went so well.
There I go again, worrying about what's to come when what's here and now isn't too bad at all.   But is it okay if I look forward to going for a walk as soon as I'm finished here?  Sure it is.  Anticipation is a very in-the-moment way to feel.  Looking forward to something real sweetens the present.  Wow.  I just wrote myself into a really good mood.  Goddess, I love my little web.
Thanks for dropping by, and have a beautiful, blessed, blissful day.
- G.P.

Cosmopolitanism

I'm home again.  Yes, I do think of this little web of mine as a home of sorts.  I come here to be quiet, alone, and muse.  That's a rather odd notion, considering that I share my thoughts with the wired world. How ironic.  Anyway, I haven't visited this special place of mine for a while.  It's nice to be back.
For a long time the idea of "home" was important to me.  Not so much anymore, because I've finally figured out just exactly where and what my true home is.  But for many years I wondered where I felt most at home; where I wanted my ashes to be scattered.  That's not as morbid as it seems.  Many people like to leave their remains in the place where they felt they truly belonged, or a place that was deeply a part of them.  I've discussed this topic a few times in the past with friends who knew exactly where they wanted their remains to be scattered or buried.
Places in nature, such as forests, fields, hills, mountains, rivers and streams have been favoured locations with the people I've spoken to on the topic.  I was always envious of the people who knew so well where they wanted their last resting place to be.  For some reason it was important to me to determine where mine was.  I always longed to be able to name it.
That particular issue of mine has finally been resolved.  At long last I'm able to name my true home.  It's not that I haven't loved or appreciated where I grew up, or the various places I've spent happy times throughout my life.  I have revelled in a number of beautiful, natural settings, and think of them fondly.  The woods I played in as a child meant much to me, and it still matters to me that they remain preserved for generations to come.  But that was a long time ago, and putting myself to rest there doesn't work for me anymore.  My world has expanded since then.  And that's exactly what I've come to realise - that the whole world is my home.
Planet Earth is my true home.  Even pictures of places I've never been move me deeply, and remind me of how much I revere Nature.  That is why Earth is also my religion, and my temple.  So whenever I take my leave of this beautiful home in the stars, I don't have to worry about where my remains will remain.  Not that I ever really worried about it.  After all, dead is dead, and I won't be fretting about it then.  Nevertheless, the search for home has certainly engaged my imagination.
I'm rather pleased with my realization.  I've often fancied myself a "worldly" person, even when I wasn't going anywhere for long stretches at a time.  In fact, I like to think of myself as cosmopolitan, in the true sense of the word.  And now that I've identified my true home as planet Earth, I figure cosmopolitan is an apt description after all.  Earth is part of the cosmos, a part of this great Universe, and what's more, she harbours Life.  It makes me proud and glad to know that I'm a part of all creation.  So maybe I am cosmopolitan.
Long live Mother Earth, my home and native world.
- G. P.

Tuned In and Turned On

I was so wired I was buzzing. I had just started an opening shift at the bookstore where I work, and feeling hyper-charged with supressed emotion. Although keeping my feelings to myself was hard, I thought I was doing a good job of it until things started messing up.
We have high-end, touch screen kiosks in our store, and the two that are in the Kids' section were being temperamental and refusing to power up. It just so happens I work in Kids', and of course all the other kiosks were working just fine. Sheesh and surprise. So, technopeasant that I am, I had to call the manager to come and save me from blowing up the tools of my trade. Within minutes of arriving, my manager had both kiosks up and running. As she worked I did my best to maintain a professional demeanour and not reveal the tightly wound inner workings of my mind. But my boss isn't just smart and computer savvy, she's also an enlightened, sensitive human being. Whilst fiddling about with the kiosks, she remarked that perhaps there was something about my energy that was affecting the systems. It was as if she were reading my mind, or at least feeling the great surges of my barely contained frustration. How cool is that? Here's a boss who talks my language in the foreign land of retail and materialism.
Anyway, I confirmed that I was indeed feeling stretched tight and wired. "It's a good thing you don't work on cash," she joked. She also suggested that perhaps I should release my energy on the Buddha board. And what's a Buddha board you may well ask? Turns out that Buddha boards are blank slates on which you paint an image of whatever you want released, and within minutes the image dissolves and disappears. It can be a negative influence you want to get rid of, or a wish or prayer you'd like answered. Either way, whatever you want, or don't want, is released and dispersed into the ether. It's a lovely, simple gift, and appeals to my minimalist sensibilities.
The store had a demo model on display, and I knew exactly what I wanted to release and let go. I painted a picture of a tower being struck by lightning, as in the dreaded Tower card of the tarot. That was pretty much the way I felt at the time - zapped by lightning. Drawing those emotions on a blank slate was liberating and fun, and an effective, creative way to rid myself of negative energy. I managed to enjoy the rest of my shift, feeling calmer than I had in several days.
I got home that evening, tired but relieved that I'd dispersed all the tension I'd been holding. I checked my emails and was happy to see one from my sister. She informed me that she had logged unto my little web that very morning, and lo and behold it had been tagged as a "malicious" website. Yikes! Normally I would have gone berserk, but the not-so-coincidental timing of my sister trying to access my "malicious" blog while I was feeling as if I were plugged into a light socket fascinated me. I checked my dear little web right away, and fortunately all was well. Thank goddess for that, because I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it except agitate myself and everything around me even more.
Now that things have settled down, I'm left to wonder, yet again and forever, about the nature of existence and our connection to everyone and everything. I've offered this quote here before, and it bears repeating now: Mens agitat molem - the mind moves matter. The longer I live the more I believe.
- G. P.

Mad about March

Happy first day of March! I made it. February is over, and the month that holds the first day of spring is here at last. And I managed to mark it with this little blurb in this little web of mine. If you've been keeping up to speed with the mundane little details of my life, you're probably aware that I've been in a bit of a funk lately, which is also why I haven't done my traditional first day of the month or year blurb for the last two months. But all that's coming to an end now, and a new cycle begins, which includes this little tribute to a month that holds so much promise.
I'm 22,022 days old today. That's special to me because I'm very fond of the number 22. It's stable and balanced, something I'd like to be. So naturally I'm not going to ignore the fact that today, on the Kalends of March, I'm 22,022 days old. Talk about stability and symmetry. It's a good foundation from which to build the rest of my life.
That's all I have to say for now. I just wanted to check in on my little web on this very special day, setting the tone for the month, and the rest of my life. So far so good.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the yellow roses. They were my mother's favourite flower.
- G.P.

Saving Grace

I've had the wobblies lately. That's why I haven't made many appearances on my little web. It was bound to happen, because until just over a couple of months ago I was on a real high. It was a fabulous year. But life and nature are all about cycles. All things pass, both good times and bad. There is an ebb and flow, and I've been experiencing a bit of an ebb lately.
I've had a bunch of little "accidents," have lost or misplaced things almost daily, and suffered a number of disappointments that just piled one on top of the other, with barely time enough to recover from one before I was assaulted by another. The long nights and dreary, grey days of winter haven't helped, either.
But I'm better now, because I have a plan - a plan for pulling myself out of the doldrums. It's a totally practical and practicable course of action, even though my little dose of depression has left me fatigued and uninspired. The string of rejections I've been through lately is certainly one of the more salient reasons for my recent funk. My self-esteem has taken a real beating. But my wise, compassionate friend and spiritual counsellor, Barbara, pointed out to me that I've got to start giving to others what I'd like to get for myself, things like acknowledgment and appreciation. Suddenly, when Barbara spoke those words - words and ideas that I write about all the time in this little web of mine, and chant to myself like a mantra - the light of reason came back on.
I frequently and consciously practise appreciation of others. I make a point of routinely complimenting friends or colleagues, especially if they seem to need some cheering-up. People like to be noticed for something they've done well. It's human nature. So now that I find myself feeling rejected and ignored, it's clear I've got to start paying a little more attention to the people around me.
The problem with even the mildest melancholia is that it can render a person very self-absorbed, which is why I'd lost sight of one of my more beneficial habits. But my eyes have been opened again and I'll resume taking just a tiny moment every now and then to notice something good or attractive in the world and people around me, and verbally acknowledge it. The ball's in my court and it's up to me to get it rolling. (Sorry for the mixed metaphor.) My sagacious friend Barbara had to remind me of what I'm always going on about - karma - the old what-goes-around-comes-around thing. So I'm going to make an honest effort to redress the recent imbalance in my life, which is why I'm making a vow right here and now for my legion of followers to witness - Every time I suffer another disappointment or rejection, I shall pull myself together at least long enough to express appreciation for someone else.
Concurrent with my recent spate of the wobblies has been my fixation on grace. I've been googling and reading about grace a lot these days, and my research has brought up numerous articles and books on breathing and the breath. What's the connection, you may ask? 
It's your spirit, your soul.
Breath and breathing are at the core of almost every belief system on the planet. It is the basis of meditation, where one can find grace, if just for a moment. The literal meaning for feeling inspired is being filled with breath. (Spiritus is the Latin word for breath). And wouldn't you know it, breathing happens to be one of my absolute most favourite pastimes! So I'm breathing deeper and longer than ever lately, and making room for grace to enter into my life. (It's no coincidence that Barbara is also a big fan of deep breathing.) Conscious breathing helps speed up the healing process, both physically and psychologically. Maybe that's why this most recent bout of ennui hasn't been as long or intense as usual.
Breathing has helped sustain my flickering faith. My faith has been truly tested recently, but I'm strong enough now to go out into the world and practise what I preach. I'm going to breathe deeply and make someone smile every day. I truly believe that if I continue to make this a constant, daily practise, sooner or later I will be rewarded for my efforts. That is my faith, and yes it's been shaken, but not destroyed. So I guess I must be stronger.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention noticing some sort of sign in the wake of my recent garden-variety depression. So here it is... A few days ago, after cutting up and disposing of my two tarot decks (I told you my faith was really shaken), and thumbing through an old journal before it made its way into the same place as the tarot cards, I noticed an abandoned Chinese fortune I'd found on a sidewalk somewhere. At the time, I remember thinking it was quite a boring message, but in keeping with my everything-happens-for-a-reason philosophy, I decided to keep it and taped it into my journal. Finding it again just a couple of days ago meant a lot more to me than it did the first time. The message read: Being kind to others will bring rewards. Is that a sign or what? Anyway, now I know the reason I kept that silly piece of paper. It came back to me just exactly when I needed my faith restored.
I'm on the rise now, like a phoenix rising out of her own ashes, reborn and renewed. Another cycle of life has begun. I'm ready for it, and grateful, too.
To my loyal followers, thank you. You rock, each and every one of you, whoever and wherever you may be. Just thought you should know.
- G.P.

Unfinished Business

I'm living out the rest of my life for two people, me and my mother. Ma died almost 13 years ago, but I can't help thinking that her spiritual journey while on this earth wasn't quite finished when she passed. I'm not talking about her journey in the next life, if there is one; I'm talking about me, her daughter. I'm part of her journey. I'm a little bit of what she left behind, and I'm going to do my best to leave this world having played my role in my mother's story as best I can.
When my mother died I wasn't exactly the sort of daughter my mother could brag about. I was broke, unemployed, and depressed. I know it was very painful for my mother to reply to questions from well-meaning people who asked about me and how I was doing. It's not that she was embarrassed or ashamed of me. Not at all. She was worried about me, and hated to see me hurting. She was my mother and wanted the best for me. But by the time she died, six months after being diagnosed with cancer, she was too sick to fret about me and my future. But that's how I was when my mother passed.
I'm a lot better now. If Ma were alive today she wouldn't worry about me as much. (I'm feeling so good these days partly due to a small inheritance left to my sister and me after Dad died over a year ago. I still have to earn a living, but lately things have been a lot easier for me, thanks to my parents' estate.) So yes, I might still be struggling financially if Ma were still alive, but I'm pretty sure I'd be dealing with difficult circumstances a whole lot better. I've changed because I've deliberately worked at it. I took responsibility for my life and took steps to change what needed changing. Now I'm in better physical, emotional, and spiritual shape than ever.
When Ma gave birth to me she started something. She started me. She begat a new life. No mother wants to leave her children until they know they're happy and well and able to take care of themselves. That wasn't the case with me. Fortunately, my sister was doing well. When Ma passed my sister had a beautiful young girl who is now a beautiful young woman, preparing to study medicine. So at least some of what Ma left behind was clearly good and right, and I'm sure she knew that. Not so much with me.
My sister and my niece are continuing part of Ma's journey, and they're doing a really fine job of it, too. However, I don't have any children. My part of Ma's legacy ends with me. That's not sad; it just is what it is. It was my choice and I have no regrets. But I'm still, and shall be for the rest of my life, an important chapter in the story of Ma's life, and I'll be damned if I don't give it a happy ending. I missed my chance to fulfill that role when she died, but I'm not making that mistake again.
Sometimes I feel my mother moving through me. I don't know how else to describe it. Maybe it's just memories of her surfacing when my emotions are most keenly felt. The deeper my feelings, about almost anything, the more likely I am to think of Ma. When I've accomplished something that makes me proud, I always talk to my mother about it. "Are you happy now, Ma? Are you proud of me?" My questions are typical of a child seeking approval from her mother, but that's not what motivates me. I just want to finish my chapter of Ma's life with grace and peace. Sometimes living a good life purely for my own sake isn't enough. Sometimes I need to make something or someone better. I'm not suggesting I'm making my mother better; after all, she's dead. Besides, she might be absolutely perfect wherever and in whatever state she is - if she's anywhere or anything at all. But I know I can make my part in Ma's story better. I am a living legacy, as all children are. So to honour the memory of my mother, and to fulfill my role in her legacy, I am living for both of us.
Blessed be, Ma. I love you still.
- G. P.