going crazy

a picture from our trip to mexico
back in march
kind of wishing i was back there today
i have created some projects for myself
i put myself out there
and people have responded
and now i have so much work to do
and i am just staring at my computer
hoping it will tell me what to do next

interns are starting in two weeks
this is great
but i really want them to have a solid foundation
i want this learning experience to be organized and meaningful
intentional
i don't want to be flying by the seat of my pants
so i am working
hard
to create order
i am not so great with order

i also have some really amazing commisioned projects
due in july
more on that later
pretty weird that this is all happening at once

timely

(sitting in the basement of kelly jackson . . . getting ready to mapquest directions to my cousin's house . . . because even though i have been to kansas city countless times since i was a newborn babe . . . i have NO idea how to navigate this town!)

i have been full of new creativity lately.
little baby blooms
waiting for me to let them burst
into something
colorful and
loud
or soft
or whatever they want to be
whatever they need to be

and it is easy to have ideas
and before you let them out of your mouth or hands or feet
you decide what they are
what they can do
and if they are worthy.

it reminds me of the time i walked through
downtown denver
with my friend andy
(by the way, everyone needs an andy)
and i told him
after my first date with herb
why it would never work
why he would not like what he saw
why my homebody ways and my inability to
remain awake past 10 pm would chase him away
why it was not going to work.
why herb was going to decide it would not work.

and then andy did what all true andy's do well
he stood on a city street bench,
hovering above me
and he told me i was not aloud to decide
for herb
what herb
would decide to think about me.

scary, huh?

yep.

but i did it.
i let me be me.
and i let herb decide what he thought.

turns out he likes me.

so come to me
little ideas
little baby ideas
clever baby ideas
colors and sounds and feelings and dreams
come decide what you will
come say what you will
i won't decide for you.


The real reason i started this entry today . . .
to share this quote i found . . .
at kelly's house.
on her desk.
the one i sat down at 15 minutes ago to mapquest directions to my cousin's house . . .

"each person is created to see a different facet of god's beauty - something no one else can see in quite the same way - and then to bless all worshipers through all eternity with an aspect of god they could not otherwise see."

thanks for that, mr. c.s. lewis

love,
cara

me. today.

drinking: water

reading: "girl in the mirror" and "queen bees & wannabes"

learning: why are ALL of my adolescent female clients trying to hurt themselves?

wondering: am i going to be ready when my internship team starts in june? do i have what it takes to teach them how to be good therapists?

listening: the weepies

wearing: dark jeans and a "librarian-sexy" see through blouse with poofy sleeves and a tie around the neck. black mary janes.

temperature: chilly but nice fresh air coming through the window

location: my tiny little office in the city - love it!!!!

outlook: hopeful

excited about & grateful for:
* new car to replace our leased car that we are turning in next week -
she is deep red-ish orange and i named her daphne because she is sleek and svelt . . . like a 40's pin-up girl.

* going to visit my lovely sister and girlfriends in kansas city next week! i get to follow kelly around while she shoots a wedding! so so so excited to learn from her magical ways!

* nothing ever stays the same. in the case of marriage, this is proving to be a very delightful truth!

* i ordered my mothers day gift two weeks ago! it will be arriving at her home sometime next week! yes! i love it when i am organized!

* my gran gosney is coming to stay with us for 4 or 5 days next month!

* summer in denver is amazing! can't wait for the farmer's markets, outdoor movies, hiking, and more and more and more!

* i turn 30 in 2 months and one week! . . . starting to wrap my head around that a little bit! unlike my 25th (which was seriously traumatic for me), i am actually pretty excited and feeling good about it all!

* i have been scrapping and making art without feeling guilty about all of the "wasted" time that i am not cleaning the house or doing "real" work!

* going to a wedding tomorrow night! delighted to be a small part of their story of love and redemption!

* making new friends in denver! lots of quality women are popping up in my world these days!)

* i am learning to CHOOSE joy and happiness everyday!

Reduse, Reuse, Recycle

Here is a post I found while looking back into my archives today.
I really like it so I will post it again here today.

"What Do Your Signs Say?"
Originally published on 3/25/2006

I found these signs during my snowshoe hike yesterday.
I have signs like these . . .
ironically placed in just the right spots to keep people (or even myself) from acessing and enjoying the most beautiful, stunning parts of my heart.
I have signs like these . . . destructively keeping me from entering real life.
Real beauty.
Real freedom.
Signs that cause me to stop short of running into the arms of my Savior.
Signs that cause me to look at Him and Life through binoculars.
Wondering, dreaming.
My faith and my salvation have given me abundance. Yet, I stay seated at the perimeter . . .
obeying these signs that keep me from diving in.
Looking at beauty from a distance but believing the signs that are there to keep me out.
Looking at beauty in the face and feeling forbiden to touch it.
Who taught us to erect these signs?
Whose idea was it to take us right up to the edge of real life and then say, "Don't touch!"
Our mothers?
The media?

Or perhaps it lies deeper within.
As if the result of Eve's "apple gone wrong" fiasco altered our very DNA.
As if from the moment we are born, we are inclined to engage life right up to the fences of the wild and the uncharted.
We will live and engage and play and explore . . .
as long as it is safe, and known, and guarenteed.

I don't want to look at pictures of beauty in magazines.
I don't want to read postcards about peace.

I want to run past the signs and the orange cones.

Don't give me decaf or splenda or reality TV.

I want the real thing
and I want to stand right in the bossom of it all
with head tilted high
and righteous fists raised
and glory dripping from my wide hips and oversized teeth
and say to the spinner of all lies . . .
the one who loves war and death and fashion from the 80's:

"This is mine! This is where I belong! My God sees me and knows me and likes me and loves me and He wants me right here! This is MY time and MY place and I will have peace and I will shout "NO!" to anxiety and I will shout "NO!" to being a whiny victim and I will no longer be a whore to depression & self-hatred and I will find kindness between the cobwebs of my cold, dank heart and then splash that stuff all over the place!
I will sing and dance and weep and shout
and write and cook and breast feed when the time comes
and wear pigtails & the color pink
and I will french kiss in public and talk to strangers if I want to
and go to the little kid's waterpark to ride the Lazy River beacause it brings me joy
and I will love my neighbors
and make love to my husband
and be made love to . . .
and don't you dare try to keep me out again, ass hole!"

Inspire This!

For the past year or so, I have been mopey.
Getting used to marriage has been a toughie for this girl!
The year before that, I was panicked.
Turns out, falling in love was kind of scary too!
Plus, it turned out that working with adolescent males full time was a little too much for my heart to handle.
And i wilted a bit.
So, there's that.

When you are mopey and panicky, you don't tend to be very creative.
But I am noticing that when you are not very creative, you tend to be mopey and panicky.
And then . . . you get weird.
(As if mopey and panicky were not enough!)
Bummer.

On top of that, I do have some of the traits of a typical first born kiddo (which i am).
I am a perfectionist.
But just to murky the waters, I am also creative and I am a bit cynical and pessimistic.
So, a cynical perfectionist knows that you can WANT to do something perfect . . .
but perfection just isn't possible.

The result?

Stagnation.

Why do anything at all if you can't do it perfectly?

This is the mantra of the First Born/Middle Child Hybrid.

In case you are confused, let me give you some background information.
I am convinced that the egg from my mom that was meant for me was accidentally matched with the sperm from my dad that was intended to go with mom's egg that was reserved for my younger sister Amy.

Does that clear things up?

While this theory is about as plausible as herb's theory about his conception and birth
. . . it just is what it is.

This is me.
Weird, first born-ish perfectionist-ish.

The point?

I have needed some inspiration.
A reason to be creative.
A reason to try, even if trying might mean mediocrity or *gasp* failure.

Every time I try to create lately, I seem to get stuck. Somehow I stopped creating for me and started holding myself to certain standards. That special, free, floaty feeling that i used to have when i created disappeared.

And remember, if you can't do it just right . . .
all together now:
"WHY DO IT AT ALL?"

Very good.

Right.
Why do it at all?

But lately, i have had a few people inspire me to do it - whatever IT might be!
even if you can't give it all of the time you want.
even if you can't do it "just right".
do it.
do something.
do it now.
don't wait.

there is a catchy little tune that has been stuck in my head for a few weeks.
and while it the chorus has the f-word, i believe truth can be found just about anywhere . . . even if it was not intentional on the part of the human who created it.
i have found myself humming it.
and after a while, i found myself believing it.
why not just do it?
do anything?

so, thanks, zefrank!

(if you are not too worried about hearing the f-work word, go right here for this hysterical little ditty.)


otherwise, this will give you the gist. this is part of zefrank's intro to a little song called "Where the "F" do ideas come from?":

"I run out of ideas every day! Each day I live in mortal fear that I've used up the last idea that'll ever come to me. If you don't wanna run out of ideas the best thing to do is not to execute them. You can tell yourself that you don't have the time or resources to do 'em right. Then they stay around in your head like brain crack. No matter how bad things get, at least you have those good ideas that you'll get to later.
Some people get addicted to that brain crack. And the longer they wait, the more they convince themselves of how perfectly that idea should be executed. And they imagine it on a beautiful platter with glitter and rose petals. And everyone's clapping for them. But the, but the, but the, but the bummer is most ideas kinda suck when you do 'em. And no matter how much you plan you still have to do something for the first time. And you're almost guaranteed the first time you do something it'll blow. But somebody who does something bad three times still has three times the experience of that other person who's still dreaming of all the applause. When I get an idea, even a bad one, I try to get it out into the world as fast as possible, 'cause I certainly don't want to be addicted to brain crack."

Funny AND true.
How's that for a double-mac-attack!?!?!
Love it!

And then there is my friend Kelly.
A few years ago, Kelly decided to become a photographer.
So she taught herself.
Then she opened her own studio.
And now she is an artist with a thriving business in Kansas City, MO!

The beautiful thing is that kelly (who i have known now for about 13 year - did the math in the shower this morning, kel!!!) sees more potential in me than i see in myself. And for the past year, we have made a habit of talking every few days or so. Recently, we have been chatting about once a day. And while I know we both benefit from our morning chats, I am beginning to realize that kelly is out to encourage me into greatness. Part of her approach to this is to invite me into the creativity that she has been splashing about for the past few years. So, she subtly slips opportunities my way - sort of disguised as bartering or favors . . . but in reality, she is pushing me to just get out there and do something with my talents! ANYTHING!

It is kind of like she taught herself how to build a roller coaster from scratch and i just walked over and said, "oh, i like roller coasters! can i have a ride?"

The pictures above are of a 12 x 12 canvas I made this week.
Thanks to kelly, i am going to make a handful of these and display them in her studio as an option people can choose when deciding how they want to display the pictures she takes of them and their family! This is my first attempt . . . mostly playing around with paint and adhesive techniques.

and zefrank is right - i know now more than i did three days ago!!!

thanks zefrank for asking the question, "where the f*** do ideas come from?" - even if you are a major potty mouth!
and thanks kel, for inviting me onto your roller coaster!

Disgruntled Rant

In the midst of being sick, I have somehow perserved my ability to think (at least somewhat) clearly and continue to maintain my ability to organize and keep track of information. As I wade through a sea of paperwork and out-of-network bills from multiple doctors and labortories, I feel empathy for those who face this daily, for years, and do not have the stamina or support to make sense of these papers. I feel sick to my stomach as I imagine 90 year old women trying to make sense of the Explanation of Benefits for her husband's healthcare. I could vomit if I think too long about her on the phone with a customer service agent, trying to understand why she has not seen any correspondance regarding her claim that she sent in four months ago.

Here I am, day three (or maybe four) or trying to track down payments from my insurance company for treatments, doctors visits, and medications. I just got taken off of hold and spoke to the woman I will endearingly refer to as Agent B. She was checking with Karen, Agent A, who I spoke with for over 30 minutes last week. I was simply calling to follow up on the re-submittion of SEVEN claims that somehow failed to be keyed into her system when I mailed them in last December.

Okay, Agent B just got back to me.
Apparently Karen had no idea what she was talking about.
And now I am on hold again.

I have now been on the phone for 29 minutes with Anthem. The claims I discussed with Karen last week . . . the claims she said where not keyed into her system . . . but that she found the "hard copies" of . . . the claims she said she would re-send to be reviewed for out-of-network reimbursement . . . those claims, apparently do not exist anymore.
They actually were never sent in.
Imagine that.

Isn't that amazing!
Claims that existed last week . . . that were held in the hands of a disgruntled custormer service agent named Karen, just last week, actually do not exist anymore.
I had no idea they were able to back into time and erase the existance of a material object.
Wow.
They should be using their powers for a lot more than filing insurance claims.

So, now I wait to speak to "a supervisor". I look forward to this conversation.

I have now been on hold for 4 minutes, anticipating our conversation.

I read an article a few years ago in Real Simple Magazine about what really goes on behind the scenes in customer service departments.

The reaility is that while Agent B was "checking with Karen" about my paperwork (that is capable of breaking the time-space continuim), she might have more likely been taking a coffee break. And this "supervisor" I am about to speak to . . . most likely the woman that Agent B is currently shooting the breeze with over a cup of instant coffee grains and some room temp water.

The moral of the story in the Real Simple article was this: be as sweet as honey when you speak to a customer service representative.
Because your destinay lies in their hands.

After 12 minutes, I was informed that after a long, heart-felt conversation with "the supervisor" they found the claims and guess what - even the notes in my computerized file documenting that the claims HAD in fact been sent in to be processed. Amazing! Just moments ago, she read to me straight from the same file stating that the claims had not been sent in and that the case was closed.

Great.
Settled.
The claims have been sent in and are existing in a sort of paperwork purgatory for the next 30 days (does that mean 22 for me, since I am positive Karen sent them in promptly 8 days ago when we spoke!?) and that is the reason she could not track them down in her system.

Now I need to speak to somebody about my perscription reimbrusements.
No problem.

I have been transfered to Perscription Claims.
Guess who answered the phone?
Client advocacy.
Turns out Perscription Claims does not actually have a phone number that receives calls.
Nope.
She will now transfer me back to the original team who is helping me with my medical claims.
Okay.

Now I have been on hold for five minutes anticipating the reconnection with Karen and Agent B.

Guess what?
I get to give ALL of my information all over again.
This time to Agent C.
She asks for the dates of each and every medication I am inquiring about.
I list the first one.
And then I apologize in advance for my crankiness.
I really had been as sweet as honey. . .
up until this most recent transfer
and please excuse me because I have now been on the phone with your company for 50 minutes and nothing has really been resolved yet.

Silence.

I continue on, listing each perscription.

Turns out the perscription reimbursement check was distrubuted to me months ago.
Yes, I vaugely remember a check in the amount of $41 and some odd cents.
I apologize, Agent C, for wasting your time.
That was my mistake.
I must have somehow, in all of this paperwork, managed to get a little confused.

55 minutes and 46 seconds of my life.
And then we are finished.
There is silence on the other end.
None of the scripted: "thank you for choosing anthem. is there anything else I can do to help you today? have a great day!"
nope.
I thanked Agent C and wished her a great day.

All I heard from her, "You too."

Gee, thanks.

Attitude Check and The Best French Onion Soup Recipie Ever

Around 12:30 this afternoon, I decided to make a menu for the week, complete with grocery list. The idea was to then go to the grocery store and get my supplies for the week so that I will be prepared and perhaps even a bit more relaxed this week. Just think, when I leave the hospital at 4pm, I can be home by 4:15pm instead of stumbling around the grocery store trying to think of something to make for dinner. Lovely.

And yet, it is 3pm and I have just completed my list. It is like I can't let myself do something useful to give myself a hand up for the rest of the week. I could have been to store and back by now. I could have already done the one other task I set out to do today and be reading or doing something creative. But here I am. Still on the couch. And now I will rush around to get all my goals completed before we go to church in 2 1/2 hours.

I can still go to the store. And I can still be prepared for the week. I mean, I have a great menu planned . . . french onion soup and flank steak, fish tacos, and this yummy concoction of chicken, artichokes, mushrooms, kalamata olives covered in a yummy red pepper cream sauce - and the best part is, it is a Cooking Light recipe, so I can feel good about pouring the half and half into the food processor because the elves at CL have found ways to let me use yummy ingredients while watching out for our health at the same time! Bless 'em!

When I was single, I think I probably fantasized about Sundays like today. I would have loved to have a second person to plan meals and cook for. Going to the grocery store while he was snug on the couch with the football game as the backdrop of his dreams would have sounded like heaven to me.

But here I am. It is reality now. And while I enjoy planning meals and going to the grocery store, I don't feel all that different than I did back in my basement apartment, sitting on my hand-me-down fouton - wishing I had a partner to share life with. I still feel discontent sometimes. I still wish I was different - you know, less sensitive and more disciplined. I still get "stuck" sometimes . . . unable to do things I want to do in exchange for widdling away my time and then rushing around later.

I have been studying certain women around me lately. Some live nearby, others are friends far away . . . some are strangers whose blogs I "monitor" on a regular basis. What I am learning is that circumstances inform our experience of life much less than I would like to give them credit for. I have always thought that if circumstances are the barometer, then when I don't feel the way I want to, I can just daydream about different circumstances that might someday bring me the experience and emotions I want.

But I know better than that! I am a therapist, for goodness sakes. I knew in the back of my mind that marriage would not solve all of life's problems . . . my mom told over and over again that a man was not the answer to any pain I might have in my heart. And I replied with an indignant, "I KNOW that mom! But I still want to be married!" But she was right. I hate it when she is right. But she is right . . . a lot . . . especially when it comes to me.

I have the man now - a great man! - but my heart still feels empty sometimes . . . okay, more often than I would like to admit. So I won't.

The point is: the women I have been studying have a variety of circumstances: some are single, others have had tradgedy, some have sick children or struggle with their own health, some have awesome marriages, others struggle financially. But they all have something in common: a strong faith in Christ and a daily choice to look for the positive and enjoy what they have.

So, I will stop my pity party and my daydreaming about being a different person and go put MY shoes on. Because really, despite a few scuffs and the fact that I trip and twist my ankle when I wear them sometimes, they are good shoes. Then, I will kiss my sleeping husband on the forehead. I will go to the store. And I will be thankful.

And now, the soup!

Frech Onion Soup

1/4 cup unsalted butter
6 large onions (about 5 pounds), thinly sliced (**** I find my food processor cuts the prep time for this recipie in half!!!)
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 cup brandy
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
6 cups beef broth, homemade or canned
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 (1/2-inch thick) slices French bread, toasted
3/4 pound coarsely grated Gruyere

Heat the butter in a soup pot over moderate heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring frequently, until caramelized, about 40 minutes.
Add the garlic and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Remove the pot from the heat and add the brandy. Return the pot to the heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until almost dry. Sprinkle the onions with the flour and cook, stirring, for 3 minutes. While stirring, slowly add the broth. Bring the soup to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer, with the cover slightly ajar, about 20 minutes. Season the soup with salt and pepper.

Arrange a rack about 4 inches from the broiler and preheat.

Arrange 6 ovenproof crocks or deep soup bowls on a baking sheet and ladle the hot soup into them. Arrange 2 slices of toasted bread on top of each soup and sprinkle with the cheese.

Broil the soups until the cheese is melted and bubbling. Serve immediately.

(***This soup can be made the day before - it tastes even better after it has been around for a while!)

Did You Just See That?

When I arrived at the hospital today, I began my climb through the parking garage. This process can take up to ten minutes. The aisle is narrow, there are not enough spaces, and people drive way too fast. As I crept to the fifth level, I saw something that caused my jaw to drop:

A Hummer.
Parked in Compact Cars Only parking.
A Hummer.

To the invisible person that I am convinced travels with me wherever I go and listens to all of my witty banter and "social commentary", I yelled,
"Seriously??!?!?!? Seriously?!?!?! A Hummer?"

I considered leaving a note. It would have said, "You seriously parked your HUMMER in COMPACT CARS parking????"

Then I realized that I parked my Toureg in Compact Cars parking on Monday.
Somehow I felt justified since I HAVE been driving compact cars until a few months ago.

Still, I chose not to leave the note. But really, a Hummer? It just seems a little too obvious. If your car was built to crunch the enemy on a war front, Compact Car Parking most likely was not intended for your use.

And maybe that's the point. Sometimes, the obvious completely passes us over. We are unaware of the world around us. We forget we are not the only people here.

Over and over again during my employee reviews two years ago, I was told to increase my awareness. I would have if I understood what this meant at the time. I was so unaware I was not even aware of how unaware I was. But time and time again, I make the wrong joke at the wrong time, escalate the wrong situation, take more than my fair share of time in the bathroom, take more than my fair share of time off the floor with my client, take more than my fair share of time doing paperwork, being late again and again . . . the list goes on.

Working in a treatment center, overseeing 20 adolescent boys, and functioning on a team of five people required awareness. And I had none. It was a hard year. People didn't like me very much.

Being married to another human being that has needs that are different than mine requires even more awareness. I have just a little bit. It has been a hard year.

Herb has taught be a lot about awareness. He has an incredible sense of this thing. He is able to consider others without sacrificing himself or pushing into the "People Pleasing" arena. It is amazing to me. I, on the other hand, am capable of eating up an hour of a person's day chitty chatting without considering they might have some work to do.

And the worst part? I have always written this unawareness off in the name of being a free spirit. Or I blame it on being ditzy. I weasel out of it with my "charm". I figure since I didn't intend to do the harm, I shouldn't be held responsible or accountable.

The reality? It is selfish. The reason I am not aware of others is because I am so busy being aware of me.

Marriage: A Tool For the Depraved? VOL. 8

When I worked in the treatment center, we had a young man who came from an abusive family. We're talking unimaginable amounts of trauma and damage. This boy was wounded. Deeply. To the core. He didn't weigh more than a 100 pounds, and yet he was so disruptive and destructive that we could not control him. Eventually, we got to a point where we had to hire an extra person to work the milieu so that there would always be an extra pair of hands to make sure he was taken care of. That is a big deal. In a place where the client to staff ratio was 1:4, this child had 1:1 attention during every one of his waking hours. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for him. We told him I love you. We joked around with him. He was loved. He was given choices. And second chances. And 17th chances. And three meals a day. All luxuries he had not been afforded before.

After several months of treatment, and a month of very good behavior, I got permission to take him out for a reward. We went out to a mexican restaurant. He ate fried ice cream until he could eat no more. He was accelerating in the program. Growing. Healing.

Three days later, he ran away and was brought back to the facility in handcuffs. He lost control that night and had to be physically restrained. After spending the last of my fun money that month on chimichangas and fried ice cream, I was called horrible names and even bit so hard I had a large bruise.

It was like he did not know how to get better. Like he didn't want to get better. And the people who wanted to help him were his enemy.

Melanie's comment from last week about the paralytic in John 5 is beginning to make sense.

In so many ways, I am that teenage boy. I have everything I need before me for full life. And yet, I flaunt my battle wounds (small in comparison to those of other people) as an excuse to stay stuck . . . to resist change.

Last week Herb and I were joking around about scapegoat . . . "Sorry, I had a bad day, so I can run this red light." "You know, I just got in a fight with my boss, so I am going to punch you in the face." "I had a colonoscopy today, so, I just wanted to let you know I won't be paying my taxes this year . . . and I am going to put whoopie cushions on the chairs of all of the judges in the Supreme Court. But don't blame me, I had a tiny camera shoved up my buns today. It isn't my fault."

This week and last, my prayer book has been guiding my to scriptures and sacred readings about our part in the process of God's healing and forgiveness. Melanie was right . . . there is a level of responsibility in healing. At some point, we have to say:

"I want to get better."

Marriage: A Tool for the Depraved? VOL. 7

Herb posted this on the comment section of my last post this morning. But I think we should let him have his own forum to share his thoughts . . . so here's herb!

I'll have to steal Cara's blog space since I have yet to plunk down the time and energy of setting up one for myself! :)
I just wanted to share an exchange with my doctor a couple of months ago. I see him every month, so he keeps tabs on most of the goings-on in my life. He started by asked how my stress level was...

Me: Fine. Nothing to big... just relationship stuff, you know.
Dr: Oh, how's that?
Me: You know, just the roller coaster ride of marriage (being ambigious, hoping he would drop it)
Dr: (Not one to drop things) Oh... well, how big are the dips and hills on your coaster ride?
Me: Well, they've been pretty high and pretty low at times.
Dr: What are YOU doing? (He's been married 25 years or so, he will always assume I am the cause!)
Me: Well... you know we have over 50 years of combined selfishness we are trying to work through and it's been really tough at times.
Dr: {laughing} You should have that posted above your front door like McDonalds. "Over 50 years of selfishness!"
Me: {Laughing with him now} Oh, and then we just count down for every year we take off?
Dr: No, underneath that, you start counting how many years of selfLESSness you guys have together.
Me: yeah... (That's about all I can usually muster up when presented with such clear wisdom).

We'll never erase the selfishness, but we don't have to be tied to our past. Identify it and move in a new direction... together. To quote RENT, "Forget regret or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way, no day but today. There's only now, there's only here, give in to love, or live in fear."

Simple Pleasures

I am realizing how I MUST MUST live in the "right now" of it all.
I must take joy and peace and pride in what is actually happening . . . actually right now.

Today . . .
Went to the library; saw lots of kids walking and riding bikes to get there . . . some came in with their helmets on.
Ate a crepe with wonderful blue cheese inside.
Helped an old man put a watermelon in his trunk . . . and then he pointed to his groin area and explained that he just had surgery.
Bought and arranged two beautiful bouquets of flowers.
Smiled as a I pulled out a beautiful yellow bowl from my cabinet to defrost chicken in.

Simple pleasures people . . . I have forgotten how much they soothe and feed and nourish and grow and heal . . . keep your eyes open . . . they are all around . . . and my attentiveness is just begining.

Whatever you do today, look high and low . . . but open your eyes and find your folly whatever that might be.

I love "three day reads" . . . it is so indulgent and satisfying.
This book stirred a place inside that I have grown out of touch with in the past few years. Perhaps it is because my one big pleasure has distracted me from small, simple pleasures. Or perhaps my heart has forgotten what brings me joy. But this book caused me to revisit the question, "what are the small pleasures that I find joy in? that i am reminded of God's love and of the joy available in this life."

some things that give me pleasure:
slow gut-filled music, cooking, watching people, laying in the grass, grazing used cd stores . . .

if you had a year of pleasures, what would you partake in?