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One Word With Mixed Meaning For 2012: My Daily Five

For the last few years I have chosen a word at the beginning of January designed to keep me honest and on track with my goals. I’m honest by nature so that wasn’t very challenging on it’s own and when it comes to accomplishing certain goals, I’m not sure they worked as well as I’d hoped.

So I’ve decided for 2012 that I need to get more specific and slightly boring about it.

I need a workhorse of a word to slog through the details that I hate. I need a better plan, one with more details and end dates otherwise I drift a bit too much in whatever direction I want to go for the day. Too many projects and nothing gets completed so I need a way to break it down.

Being naturally tangential can be great for ‘big picture’ people like me, but bad if you don’t have a team to share the detail work with. It’s all up to me what happens this year and I’d like to get a few more things done.

There’s nothing glamorous about this year’s word. It’s fairly boring like brushing your teeth or paying your bills on time … two areas that can’t be neglected without some obvious consequences.

The word I’ve chosen for 2012 is : DAILY – occurring, made, or acted upon every day

Because I tend to use mnemonic devices to remember things, I thought of a way to make my word ‘Daily’ even more useful to me. By breaking it down into the five letters that make up the word, I can assign a letter to each digit on my hand.

Here’s an example of why I need a little more help staying focused. When I looked at my hands and counted out D-A-I-L-Y, I was reminded of how rough my hands look most days. Due to loads of hand washing, (I’m germ conscious, but not obsessed) and not enough hand lotion use, I’ve always thought that my age was more obvious on the backs of my hands than on my face.

That belief may be changing soon as my face seems to be catching up, but I’m okay with that. I’ve got more important things to focus on than worrying about getting older, something that I’ve considered a privilege since my early 30s and even more so now as I see more people my age and younger dying too soon.

See what I mean about my tangential thinking needing help to focused … I started with a simple task assignment beginning with my thumb and the letter D and the next thing you know, my mind has moved on to aging and early death. That’s how it happens for me, one minute I’m here and the next I’m on to something else.

Which leads me to the DAILY five.

Here’s the short version.

D – Diet: My daily diet needs to be better, less sugar and more fruit & veg.

A – Appreciate: This one’s not usually an issue for me, but I want to be sure others in my
life feel it by being less distracted when I’m with them.

I – Imagine: I want to keep dreaming the big dreams. I love living with possibility.

L – Listen:  I have got to get better with this. I still talk way too much sometimes.

Y – Yield: The return on my investment of time, energy, and emotion, and is it worth it?

I’m keeping it simple to stay focused and hopefully it will be as easy as a DAILY wave of my hand.

How about you … any words or links to words of your own for 2012?

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Up In Smoke – Hopeful Thoughts For 2012

Photo by Christina Romero-Cross

I went to my friends Tina and Henry’s home on Christmas Eve for a mince-pie and a glass of mulled wine and left having satisfied more than my appetite for sweets.

Tina’s an artist and she had two ceramic vessels that she’d made sitting in a featured place with small slips of paper layered around them and several ink pens nearby. She spoke briefly about her intention for them when I arrived, but after being swept up in conversation almost as soon as she finished, I only remembered her plan for them as I was putting my coat on to leave.

We were encouraged to write a burden we wished to be rid of in 2012 on a slip of paper and drop it into the vessel on the right and if there a secret something we hoped for in the new year to write it on another paper and put it into the left container.

I did not hesitate with my hopeful wish or my relentless burden and after a quick scritch-scratch on the paper, I was done. The next morning I felt lighter already as if the act of writing both down had lifted a weight from me overnight. I know that sounds silly and too simple, but it’s true.

The vessels and the papers inside are destined for a big beach bonfire on New Year’s Day. The ceramic containers are made to withstand the fire while the papers inside are baked to ash.

I like that.

I like the idea of my dreams and doubts going up in a puff, while sausages and marshmallows roast on sticks over the same fire. I imagine Tina and Henry’s twins will be dancing and twirling around the beach while things crackle into dust and it seems right that children should be playing nearby.

Children are naturally hopeful and isn’t hope a part of why so many of us think a wish or resolution has a chance for success even if we make the same one every New Year.

Please feel free to share any of your rituals for the new year in a comment below or leave a link if you’ve written your own post for 2012.

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Ghosts Of Christmas Past – Feeling Connected

Baby's First Christmas 1960

Harper Family Christmas - 1960 - Gene, Elizabeth, & Judy

I’ve always been someone who asked a lot of questions so much so that sometimes when I say,”John …” from another room he will answer with, ” Let me ask you something ” repeating words he’s heard me say many times before.

It’s disconcerting for some people, they think I’m being nosy or too intense, but all I really want to know is who they are and what matters most to them.

Years ago, someone said that he wished he could talk to his girlfriend the way he could me. He added that he felt connected to me in a way he wished he could have with her. I told him that I thought questions were important when it came to feeling connected and the reason he felt connected to me was because I’d encouraged him to share who he was by asking the right question.

I said that he needed to ask his girlfriend a few questions that mattered to him and then listen. Ask and listen … don’t think, plan your next question, or worry about having to fix anything, just ask your question and pay attention to the response. I heard later that they got married and from what I see on Facebook, they still look very happy together.

I wish I knew more of what my mother and father dreamed of for their own lives growing up and what kind of life they imagined for me that first Christmas. I wished I’d asked more questions when my father was living and my mother still speaking to me.

Sometimes we think we have forever … another year, another Christmas, another chance to connect and we put off important questions until it’s too late. People die or leave us in some way and the things that need saying are lost or never asked.

Don’t wait until it’s too late.

Think of the one question you wish you could ask and then consider what’s stopping you and move past it.

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Shaming, Blaming, & Silence – How Sexual Harassment Changed The Direction Of My Life

I try really hard to stay away from politics on my blog and I’ve bitten my tongue for the last few days over the reported sexual harassment allegations about U.S. Presidential hopeful, Herman Cain.

After yesterday’s press conference, I need to have my say.

When I was eighteen, I joined the Army. I was hopeful going in about the changes I expected to go through and when my enlistment came to an end, I felt I’d met most of the goals I set for myself when I’d held up my hand four years earlier promising to protect and defend.

Protect and Defend

I never expected that I would be required to protect and defend myself from some the soldiers I served with. I enlisted in the late 70s when the military didn’t like to admit to any problem that might affect combat readiness, and sexual harassment was a huge topic that no one wanted to acknowledge as an issue.

I made it through a coed Basic Training and AIT with a sense of camaraderie and connectedness that would not last when I arrived at my first permanent duty assignment. The idea that we were all just soldiers in Uncle Sam’s employ disappeared fairly rapidly when I had to fight for respect over and over from the men in my unit and others on the male dominated military post.

I want to clarify that it wasn’t all the men I met, just enough to make it extremely uncomfortable walking on post or working alone with some people I saw everyday.

It wasn’t just the things that were said. It was the implied threats by groups of men as I was passing by, men who said things that were so overtly sexual and disrespectful that the idea they felt free enough to say them made me feel afraid that given an opportunity, they might act on them. This type of thing happened every day during and after work. No public place felt safe and even my work area felt stressful and uncomfortable.

It didn’t only happen where men were gathered in groups, some would follow me around the PX saying suggestive things in a lowered voice even as I pretended to ignore them.

When my section sergeant, a man in direct position of authority, grabbed me by the lapels of my fatigue jacket and banged me repeatedly in the metal awning of the motor pool door because I refused to ‘date’ him, I took the incident up my chain of command.

It was a difficult process as I was forced to repeat my complaint over and over while enduring the mocking response of men I was supposed to look to for leadership. I went through person after person (all male) until I finally reached the office of my commanding officer who told me that I wiggled too much when I walked, and that I wore too much makeup.

All My Fault

He basically told me that it was my fault as he went over a list that was all about me and not the offenders. When I asked him how he’d feel if it was his wife or daughter, he said I was soldier as if this made it okay.

I remember clearly telling him that I had a right to the same basic respect as anyone and it was not okay with me. I’m still surprised I was brave enough to speak my opinion so freely as he had me ‘standing at ease’ in front of his desk while he sat behind it. Can you imagine what it felt like to fight all the way to his office expecting a different outcome than the one I received? I expected better from people I was supposed to follow into battle.

As to his assertion that I was somehow responsible, I had already worked hard to walk as if I were invisible, protected my ‘reputation’ by dating only one man during the time I was stationed in Germany, and as for makeup, I wore even less then than I wear now.

That I’m even explaining all this now irritates me beyond belief. Why should I still feel obligated to explain how I did nothing to encourage the unwanted attention of the men I worked with.

Taking Me Out Of My Job

Their solution to ‘my problem’ was to take me out of my job and put me somewhere else, not discipline the man who laid hands on me or the men who intimidated me with their near constant sexual chatter about what they’d like to ‘do to me.’

There was a fair amount of finger pointing and veiled threats when it got around that I had complained about some of the words and behavior of men in my unit.

I was labeled a trouble maker for speaking up and you know what happens to women like that … if you’re not sure, take a look at what’s happening to Karen Kraushaar and Sharon Bialek.

I think they are very brave.

Women who speak up about sexual harassment open themselves up to an often dangerous and unbearable amount of public scrutiny and ridicule.

That Herman Cain has gone from calling the charges a plot by Republican Rick Perry, to a Democratic attempt to smear him, tells me enough.

Given a opportunity, it will soon be all about those ‘bad women who wiggle too much when they walk and wear too much makeup.’

Once I thought I wanted a career in the military. Even after the sexual harassment I experienced and the effect on my enlisted tour, I thought it might be different if I were an officer, I thought I might be able to make things different for other women.

With that in mind, I joined the National Guard as part of a simultaneous program with the ROTC program at the university I attended.

After my commanding officer invited me to sit on his lap when we were alone in his office, I decided that a military career was not for me. I thought if it occurred in corporate America, I could always quit, but as a career officer, I’d have nowhere to go and I had no desire to be labeled or held back because of it.

It still makes me angry that I had to consider future escape routes when planning on my career due to the expectation that I might have to work with more men who could not control themselves properly.

I know there are loads of pressing topics facing Americans now and sexual harassment may seem like a non issue to a great many people who have been fortunate to have never experienced it, but this is really a bigger topic than who said or did what to whom.

It is about integrity and the ability to admit to past misdeeds having examined the behavior and changed it. It’s about acknowledging that while that may have been who you were then, it is not who you are now.

I believe Karen Kraushaar and Sharon Bialek in part because I know personally how much easier it can be to stay silent and just move on … easier for a while, but not forever.

If you’ve been affected by sexual harassment, I’d love for you to speak up here even if it’s not possible to do so at work or any other place in your life. 

It needs to stop!

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Listen To Your Heart

John and I went out for a coast path walk recently and had an interesting coincidence occur as we were walking back after stopping for lunch in a pub by the sea. I paused a few times like I always do to snap a photo or two and had to hurry to catch up. I was huffing and puffing as I ran up the hill behind him and said, “Hold on a minute, I need to catch my breath!”

I stepped past while turning to face him and taking his hand in mine, I put it over my heart and said,” Feel how fast my heart is beating,” and just as I said it, I looked to the right of where we where standing and saw the little heart you can see on the tree below.

I couldn’t decide whether it was natural or carved by a lover from long ago, but standing in the quiet woods completely alone with the man I love, I thought it was a sweet affirmation of what you can discover if you’re willing to stop and listen to your heart.

Give all to love; obey thy heart.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

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What I Wanted To Say Yesterday, But Didn’t

Yesterday I wrote a post about turning desperation into inspiration. It was actually a watered down version of what I originally wrote and then edited away thinking as I pressed delete that I had no right to sit on my comfy couch, in a home that I had little fear of losing, with plenty to eat and thanks to the NHS, no worries about my healthcare needs, and talk about what I thought people should be doing to change their thinking, and their lives.

I felt so safe compared to those who actually inspired the post that I honed it to the bone and took out all the personal references to myself and my family and sent out a shadow of what it once was to my readers.

It never felt finished and I debated back and forth as to whether I might take it down altogether until I read this piece by Caitlin Kelly.

Somehow she managed to say what I could not and it’s so much of what I was thinking that I can’t help but wonder if there’s some great cosmic thread that runs through our thoughts.

About an hour ago I received a ping back that led me to her site letting me see that she had linked to my post from yesterday. After reading her post ‘Break The Rules Already!’ I found the courage to come back and complete my own.

So much of what she said was similar to what running through my head, but I didn’t feel entitled to say. I wasn’t brave enough to put it out there because my life bears no resemblance now to those I was really writing it for.

My post was intended for the ‘We Are the 99 Percent’ folks whose faces and stories stayed with me long after seeing them posted by friends on Facebook.

I felt so bad reading about their daily desperation and lack of hope that I began to hide them … clicking them away on Facebook while feeling almost guilty as my life feels so luscious and good now.

I didn’t want to talk about the poor years, the public housing, or free government cheese that I remember as a small child.

I didn’t want to talk joining the Army so I could take care of myself or not wanting to burden my dad and step-mom with my education when they had a four-year old at home.

I didn’t want to talk about how many jobs I worked after the army to get through college or how I passed on things I would have enjoyed like football games and anything else that cost money or took hours away that needed to be spent working.

I didn’t want to mention the debt that came from an uninsured accidental pregnancy and how many years it took to pay that off while paying off student loans or the melanoma that grew because I couldn’t afford to have a suspect mole removed when was still just a suspicious spot that would later grow into cancer.

I didn’t want to talk about when my five year-old daughter and I lived in a house with a hole in the roof large enough that the rain poured in so fast it would fill a five gallon container and spill over to the floor too quickly to empty it.

I didn’t want to talk about when we lived on a $100 dollars a week.

It’s hard to say I’ve been there when you’re not anymore and someone else still is. It’s even tougher to say, ‘This is a chance to find a new way’ when all people can talk about are the old ones that no longer work.

Reading the stories of all who are struggling makes me want to shout … don’t give up, find another way, find each other, come together, rethink what you know and begin again!

When the roof let water into the only home we had and the cost to repair exceeded my ability to pay, I climbed into the attic and built a drainage system to divert the water outside before it could spill through the ceiling below. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

I had no carpentry skills and no background on drainage systems or roof repair, but I had a need and I had imagination.

That’s what I wanted to say yesterday, but didn’t.

Should This Be Addressed To You?

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Turning Desperation Into Inspiration

We all have moments of being stuck in indecision. It can be like a spinning hamster wheel in your head leaving you circling round and round never moving in any real direction and unable to decide which way to go.

Some people make long lists using a sort of Ben Franklin approach with a line down the center of a page and headings of pro and con to help when making a decision. This may work well if a yes or no answer is required, but most of life’s questions need more than a this or that kind of response.

Sometimes you need a more creative approach to sort things out and mind-mapping is one that works well for me. It offers more than just a yes or no solution and often helps clarify the question.

Internet Image from Wikipedia

Mind-mapping expands rather than limits my options and often uncovers possibilities I hadn’t considered when struggling with a problem. More importantly it takes me out of an energy sapping cycle and gets me moving in ways that are more productive.

Mine tend to look more like the one below with just words rather than the one above with the pictures too.

Mind-mapping Guidelines (Image From Wikipedia)

While there are software programs designed to help with mind-mapping, I prefer the old-fashioned way using colored pens and paper, a technique I learned at my first creative workshop around 1982. It’s been life changing and I’ll be forever grateful to my good friend Bill Merritt, for taking me along that day.

Wikipedia Image

Give it a try if you’re feeling stuck in some area of your life to see what you may discover and if you’re willing to share your results, send me a photo and I’ll post it here.

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Sending A Little Sunshine To A Heart In San Francisco

Sunflower Daydreams

I stumble across blogs like most people who read them. By taking a moment to follow a link or a comment, I sometimes end up in place I would hate to have missed.

Guilty With An Explanation is one of those places. I can’t remember how I got there, but I always look forward to reading posts written by the woman I’ve come to know as ‘Heart In San Francisco.’

There’s so much to read about in Susan’s life and she shares it with humor and empathy for others despite the sad role she is in with her husband Flip. His early onset Alzheimer’s and her search for healthcare solutions highlights what is missing for people in his condition.

Although she writes about Flip and his changing needs, her blog is not just about Alzheimer’s and I always leave with something to consider.

Susan writes so beautifully that I often feel as if I am there with her silently witnessing the moments of her life. Her post today had me sitting in the car with her watching from the front seat as she tried to elicit a smile from the man in the toll booth.

I’m sending her a few sunflower photos to say I see her even if the man in the toll booth has become immune to the smiling face of a friendly stranger.

Facing The Sun

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Angela Jardine & The Write About Love Project

Paris - 2010

Last February I announced ‘ The Write About Love Project ‘ and then promptly seemed to forget about it. I assure you that like most things that compete for my attention, TWALP has not been forgotten but only tucked away for a bit waiting for a chance to showcase the stories of someone new.

In July I received a gentle inquiry from blogger and writer Angela Jardine, or Angie as I’ve come to know her. She sent me an essay that I had overlooked and later a followup email to see if I’d received it. After getting over my embarrassment for being so slack with email, I found her essay a nice fit and hope you’ll enjoy it too.

One of the best parts of blogging is when we have an opportunity to meet people through a chance online connection. While I’m not completely sure how Angie found ‘ Gifts Of The Journey, ‘ I would guess it had something to do with Cornwall.

She and her husband live in Devon now, but will soon be moving to a village near mine. We’ll be connected by the Camel Trail and the idea of riding my bike to see her has me impatient for her to arrive.

I’ve nicked a photo of her from one of the sites where she writes http://angiejardine.hubpages.com/ and you can also read what she has to say at http://thisisangiesblog.blogspot.com/ as well.

Click here to read her essay for TWALP and find out what she loves and why.

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Risking A Fall To Get What You Want

Elizabeth Walking Her Path - 2011

That was me yesterday standing on the edge of bridge so I could get a better shot. I felt pretty safe up there especially as it wasn’t my first time. I climbed up back in May of 2008 right after I had rented my house to strangers, quit my job, turned down another job offer, and sold my car and most of the stuff I’d spent my whole life accumulating.

You see I had a plan for a new life and there was no room for excess stuff. I was traveling light which meant hanging on to only the things and people that mattered most to me.

John and I were still a new relationship back then having only met in person three months earlier, but I knew I was doing the right thing in leaving for love like I did. Having lived a pretty full life for my then 47 years, I knew that sometimes risk was necessary even if when the outcome couldn’t be predicted.

Some folks back home in Georgia thought I was crazy for selling off my stuff and essentially moving to a country where I would be considered a visitor and only allowed to stay for six months out of the year, but I believed that no matter what happened I’d be okay.

I have always believed the Helen Keller quote that, ” Life is a grand adventure or nothing at all ” so off I went … following my heart to Cornwall all wide open with the possibility that the risk involved might yield the best possible results.

And as most of you know, it did!

If however, you’d had a window into my life and events the year before I met John you might be surprised that I had ever been willing to risk a single thing for love. What happened then is an old story with a modern twist and not one you’re likely to read here, but I’m sure it will turn up in the book I’ve been working on recently. I haven’t gotten very far with it yet. Most of it exists on index cards right now as I run through my memories mining for the events that have mattered the most.

There’s all kinds fear in writing memoir such as who might read it and get upset, who might remember it differently, and the really big one, what if revealing the past affects your present in ways you can’t control and ways you don’t like.

Having heard my stories since we first met, John has encouraged to me write them down. By stories I mean my true life stories, not the fiction ones which may have a thread of truth through them, but come mostly from my imagination.

During my recent summer of  ” Lost and Found ” a few other people echoed the same message to me. Some of them were only repeating what they’d said before encouraging me once again to put my real life into words more permanent the occasional musings over coffee or a shared meal.

My longtime friend Patrice, and newer friend Greta Jaeger are two of the people I’m referring to. Both of them not only gave me ” the talk ” about writing my story, but they paid for dinner too. Greta works as a life coach and did such a good job over appetizers that I jokingly said I felt as if I should write her a check for a session as she left me with so much to consider.

My friend Carla Johnson did the final wrap up a few months later when she asked me some pointed questions about writing and my goals. Carla can cut to the heart of something with the skill of a surgeon and after years of working with medically fragile people, she knows how to help expose the truth without leaving you bleeding.

This post finds inspiration from many people, but the biggest push came from reading the revealing email below that I received from Marianne Elliot this morning.

I subscribe to more than I can read these days so most things like this go into the trash pretty quickly. This one caught my eye because I was interested to read about an event she had to cancel, one that for whatever reason did not work out and how she choose to see it as an opportunity to try a new way rather than an excuse to dwell in the negative messages that most of us tell ourselves when we feel afraid or overwhelmed by circumstance.

I’ll leave you with her email (along with another photo of me from 2008 ) and hope you find some encouragement if you need a little today.

Marianne Elliot’s email,  Subject: Ever fallen flat on your face? I just did. And here’s how I’m dusting myself off.

” You know the Creative Flow workshop in Berkeley I’ve been telling you about for the past couple of months?

Well, it just didn’t take. 
Maybe it was the wrong workshop. Maybe it was just the wrong time. Maybe I’m terrible at marketing. Maybe no-one likes me (I know, I know. Lots of people like me. But I did wonder that for a moment. I am human after all.)
Whatever the reason, we just didn’t get the sign-ups and had to cancel. I felt like I had really put myself out there for the first time in the US by offering up an in-person workshop, and had fallen flat on my face. In front of all of you. And all my creative friends. 
I felt a bit like I used to in school when I would try a new trick with my skipping rope and end up tripping myself up, landing on my ass. Face flushed. Heart racing. Ashamed. 
But I’m not a little girl any more. Thank goodness. These days I can recognise my own shame and fear, and I know that we all share those experiences. I also know that sometimes things just don’t work out and even though you might have something to learn from it, it doesn’t mean that you are a failure. 
It might just mean that you should try it a different way. 
So I’m trying this a different way. Instead of the weekend workshop I’m teaching a 90 minute Creative Flow yoga class at 10am this Saturday at the Teahouse Studio, 1250 Addison St, Ste 20, Berkeley.
I understand that an entire weekend was a lot of time, and $380 was a lot of money, to commit right now. So instead lets practice together for 90 minutes. You just need to bring $25, a yoga mat and a journal and pen. We are going to do a little bit of writing to explore how opening the creative flow in our bodies can support our creative work. But you don’t need to consider yourself a ‘writer’ to do this. I promise!
If you’d like to come do a 90 minute class with me this Saturday please RSVP to teahousestudio@gmail.com
On the other hand, we’ve had great sign-ups for the Off the Mat, Yoga in Action workshop atYoga Pearl in Portland next Wednesday. There are a few places left though, so if you were thinking of coming and just hadn’t registered yet, you do still have time. That one runs for three hours (from 5.30-8.30pm on Weds 17th) and costs $50. You can learn more about it here and register here.
And thank you – for being here to witness me as I learn these lessons and for being so encouraging along the way. 
Love, 
Marianne “

Elizabeth On The Edge - May 2008