Regular Guys

I can appreciate guys who lift weights and try to stay fit. But I wanted to take a moment to say something about regular guys.

I like regular guys. A few extra pounds or a bit on the skinny side, doesn't matter.

I like regular guys who dress in a t-shirt or sweater and jeans. You don't have to dress up for me. Ever.

I appreciate a regular guy, pleasant in appearance and hygiene, but just...normal. I don't need super dooper muscles or crazy great fitness. I don't need movie star looks. Some chemistry between us is a must. But come as you are, regular guy, and we're good.

How do you define racism?

I would say it's any negative expression about someone's race. At it's simplest.

Does that include white people? Because I'm reading a lot of blogs about the "vanilla privileged white" people that casts quite the negative light on white people. Isn't that racist?

I believe that I am privileged. I'm certain that I'm white. I'm grateful for everything I've been given and for everything I've earned in this life. I consider myself tremendously blessed with wonderful and diverse friendships.

I consider giving to be an important aspect of my life's purpose. Whether it's donating money, giving healing work or spiritual counseling to someone in need who is unable to pay, sweeping the snow off my neighbor's SUV while waiting for my car to warm up...these are some of the things I try to give to others. It's not much, I know. I wish it could be more.

I'm not trying to say that every person of every race is good or bad. I'm not trying to say that I'm better than anyone else. Or worse. I'm equal.

The word equal, to me, means of equal value. It doesn't necessarily mean "all the same". While I believe we all have some things in common, I don't presume to say that we're all the same. But we are all of equal worth.

And every day I read disparaging essays about white people and in particular, white women. I read about how racist we are. I find that interesting.

Haiti...and other tragedies

I've heard people comment (including myself) that while it's a great thing that people are contributing to the earthquake victims in Haiti, some are wondering what we're doing here at home to help people. I think it's a valid question.

I don't mean to minimize the need for help in Haiti. I have contributed. I watched a telethon on 14 channels to aid Haitian victims. It's a good thing.

But I wonder, where was the telethon for the Hurricane Katrina victims? I know people, including myself, contributed as much as they could. I know that celebrities contributed heavily. I also know that it took FIMA five days just to get water to the Super Dome. So, really, how are we doing? What does our grade card look like with regard to taking care of each other here at home?

I'm not saying that American needs are more important than anyone else's needs. What I'm saying is that the American people's needs are AS important as anyone else's needs.

And if there was a time that Americans responded with this kind of equipment, money, and supplies for other Americans...I missed it.

I continue to pray for the victims and families affected by the earthquake in Haiti.

Valentine's Day

I just walked into a midtown drugstore and was immediately struck by a multitude of heart shaped boxes of candy, pink flowers, red teddy bears, cards of every shape and shade of pink--it looked like the entire store was hosed down with Pepto Bismol.

As you may have guessed, I have no one to be my Valentine.

I'm going to donate what I would have spent on Valentine's Day to Haiti earthquake relief.

Even when I'm pouting, I have priorities. :)

Dragons

Don't know where I heard or read this quip, but it goes something like this:

"A Zen Master told his student, 'There are always two dragons fighting inside me. One good. One evil.' To which the student replied, 'Which one wins?'

"The one I feed."

I am taking a closer look at the things I intentionally feed in my life. Are they positive things? Or am I feeding the part of myself that criticizes me and holds a negative self-image.

It's a toss up right now. Kind of feeding both equally.

It's time to change that.

I have a journal I receive for Christmas from my beautiful niece. (Hi Christy!) I'm filling it with affirmations.

Affirmations are an odd bird. When I say them out loud, I feel silly. "I love myself. I approve of myself. I love my body." Blah, blah, blah, whatever...because I don't really feel that I love or approve of myself. Not for many of my waking hours. And saying it feels weird. Foolish. Kind of happy to be alone when I'm spouting out all this drivel. :) I've always been sardonic at my best. But positive? Like some goofball fluffy bunny skipping through the room tossing petals from a basket over her shoulder? Not so much. Thank you, drive through.

However,after saying the affirmations consistently over a few weeks, I've noticed a slight change. The good dragon has gained some ground.

It's still a struggle. I have to say in all honesty that a positive mental outlook is completely foreign to me.

A positive attitude is a practice. It's a journey. It's something I do every day and when I find myself straying from my practice, I correct my course.

If you'll excuse me, I have some course correction to do right about now. :)

Forgiveness

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having a better past." --Lily Tomlin

I find it hard to forgive for two reasons. One is that I often associate forgiveness with condoning someone's behavior toward me.

The second is there is some part of me that believes if I let go of an event, that somehow I will develop amnesia about it and find myself in a similar situation at a later date. Like I will somehow lose the lesson if I let go of the event.

Multiply this times 45 years and you get a bunch of friggin baggage.

It's time to unpack.

I find myself wandering back to the stories I tell myself (previous post). And the resulting beliefs from those stories. Such as if I forgive, I'm condoning the act and if I forget, I will repeat my mistake and find myself in another emotional jackpot. These are beliefs that are direct results of the stories I tell myself.

I've come to realize that forgiveness is an essential part of self care.

I've come to realize I teach others how to treat me.

Therefore, if I'm honoring my true self (as opposed to my ego self), I will attract more positive events and relationships into my life.

I'll let you know how it goes. :)

My Story

My story is I'm learning how not to have stories.

My stories tell a tale of dysfunction, abuse and neglect on the part of others and general repeated stupidity on my part. The more I tell these stories, the worse I feel about myself, my life, and the world in general. And I've told them for decades.

Most who know me know that my relationship of seven years ended in September, 2009. Since the breakup, I have been trying to heal the pain of the separation and abandonment but at the same time, telling the story (again and again) of hurt and betrayal was keeping the pain fresh. Reliving every little nuance and detail. The conversations with him in my mind that kept me in an agitated state but (the conversations) were imaginary and never actually happened. I was constantly agitated over...something that hadn't happened! Doesn't get much crazier than that.

And the desperate need to know WHY! If you want to drive a Virgo insane, break up with her and don't give her a logical reason! The reason was left to my imagination. And my imagination took me to some awful places.

As it turned out, the "reason" accompanied him to his family's Christmas dinner in December. Which added to the story and took me to all sort of OTHER awful imaginary places. How long had this been going on? He's known her for years. I've sat right next to him on the couch when he's taken her calls. I've asked how she's doing. Blah, blah, blah...

The only way through the pain was to let go but rehashing and modifying the "story" kept me holding on.

It still hurts like hell. As much as I would love to cast him in the part of "bad guy", as a grown up, I realize that the truth of all this pain is that I loved him and he didn't choose me. As I write this, my eyes filling with tears, it only serves as proof that not all of our "stories" are worthy of sharing again and again. They're just stories. And these stories lead to a path of bitterness and distrust. I've navigated that path all my life and I know where it leads. This time, I'm headed a in a different direction.

I'm exchanging bitterness and distrust for discernment. I'm keeping compassion and empathy for others. And for myself. I'm adding self care and balance in all things. A beautiful home that serves as a temple for my Spirit. Serenity. Peace. And I will never give up on love.