Family is more than a happenstance of genetic slap and tickle. Two teens in the backseat of moms car on the aqueduct one summer night in the 60's and wham bam, you've got a bundle of baby joy. Instant family. Family is not about who put whose peter in whose who-ha and made an oopsey. Those are genetics. Blood ties....yes; family by the neo traditional sense...sure; but family is not about the petri dish.
When you think of family it should not inspire anxiety, tension, anger, depression, resentment, irritation, a cold detached feeling, or an otherwise need to either arm ones self with battle armour or plan ones own death to disappear and live life on the lamb. Images of a torture chamber are not appropriate either figuratively or literally.
If the idea of spending Easter Sunday with a family member makes you heave uncontrollably and curl up in the corner in the fetal position, then perhaps its time to rethink the concept and perception of family and how we interpret its meaning in the greater context of our lives.
In adulthood, when we find our partners, and marry or commit to them in other non traditional ways, we chose to make them family. Family is a choice therefore that we can make. It's not blood, or chromosomes. It's heart, and mind, and body, and soul. Our family is who we chose it to be. It can be your siblings, or not. It can be your friends, your neighbors, or whomever you chose. And the beauty is they chose you back.
With this concept, our families can be as big or as small as we make them. They can grow and shrink and grow again. They are ever changing, ever evolving, to fill the needs of our lives as each year goes by. Family in this form is uplifting, reaffirming, inspirational, and full of love and hope. We are never alone unless we chose to be.
My family is larger now than it has ever been, and I am blessed and loved and ever so grateful. To all of my sisters and brothers and cousins and moms and daughters and sons, to each of you friends above all else, blood ties or not, you are my family by Choice and I have impeccable taste.
About Me
- Lisa
- I always wanted to write a book but could never focus long enough to make it happen. Maybe this blog will inspire me. Or maybe it can be an outlet for my jumbled thoughts and opinions. You may not always agree with me, but that's o.k. I would love to hear your thoughts anyway.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Difficult for the Sake of Being Difficult
We all know them. We all have them in our lives. Personal, professional, mildly transcendentally connected twice removed. But they are there. Those individuals who simply are not content unless they are discontent and makings others lives chaotic. It's an absurdity that happiness can come from unhappiness, but for these odd fellows, that is exactly where they thrive. Its what wakes them every day, motivates them forward, and lets them sleep like the dead at night.
The idea of derailing something magnificent is invigorating and awe inspiring to the muckrakers. They sow seeds of distrust and doubt wherever they go and hope to see them grow. They are fire starters, running around like little devils lighting embers hoping something catches and creates a cataclysmic event. Mostly, those of us who are sane, just see them as maniacal lunatics. Trouble makers. Obstructionists. Willing to stand in the way of progress simply for the sake of standing still.
It's likely due to a bevvy of character flaws, not the least of which is a need to feel power and control over something. So... they grab it in the most destructive way they can. Killing them with kindness only makes them more paranoid and suspicious. Ignoring them, ignites vengeance.
Tell them the sky is blue and they will debate the spectrum of light with you simply to prove themselves superior. Go to a restaurant and they will place inane requests and demands followed by inexcusable rudeness to the staff. They are knowledgeable on every topic, but masters of none, though they will insist quite the opposite and debate it until you simply concede just to shut them up.
The difficult for the sake of being difficult come in all sizes and shapes, all ages, all walks of life. They may be loved ones, coworkers, distant relatives, neighbors, or passing acquaintances, but they are all around us. They simply aren't comfortable being content and happy like the rest of us. Instead, their calm comes from chaos. Stirring the pot, and watching as the rest of the world reacts to what they have created. For us, it creates challenge, keeps us on our toes, but we manage and somehow always seem to smile. For them, each challenge that doesn't break us simply makes them crazier. Eventually they move from one cause to another, sometimes circling back. But...since failure is difficult to accept, they simply ignore it and find another cause to focus their negative energy on.
I know I can be difficult, but it is isolated, and with intent, and it has purpose. A beginning and an end. I am not difficult for the sake of being difficult. I much prefer to focus on the positive.
The idea of derailing something magnificent is invigorating and awe inspiring to the muckrakers. They sow seeds of distrust and doubt wherever they go and hope to see them grow. They are fire starters, running around like little devils lighting embers hoping something catches and creates a cataclysmic event. Mostly, those of us who are sane, just see them as maniacal lunatics. Trouble makers. Obstructionists. Willing to stand in the way of progress simply for the sake of standing still.
It's likely due to a bevvy of character flaws, not the least of which is a need to feel power and control over something. So... they grab it in the most destructive way they can. Killing them with kindness only makes them more paranoid and suspicious. Ignoring them, ignites vengeance.
Tell them the sky is blue and they will debate the spectrum of light with you simply to prove themselves superior. Go to a restaurant and they will place inane requests and demands followed by inexcusable rudeness to the staff. They are knowledgeable on every topic, but masters of none, though they will insist quite the opposite and debate it until you simply concede just to shut them up.
The difficult for the sake of being difficult come in all sizes and shapes, all ages, all walks of life. They may be loved ones, coworkers, distant relatives, neighbors, or passing acquaintances, but they are all around us. They simply aren't comfortable being content and happy like the rest of us. Instead, their calm comes from chaos. Stirring the pot, and watching as the rest of the world reacts to what they have created. For us, it creates challenge, keeps us on our toes, but we manage and somehow always seem to smile. For them, each challenge that doesn't break us simply makes them crazier. Eventually they move from one cause to another, sometimes circling back. But...since failure is difficult to accept, they simply ignore it and find another cause to focus their negative energy on.
I know I can be difficult, but it is isolated, and with intent, and it has purpose. A beginning and an end. I am not difficult for the sake of being difficult. I much prefer to focus on the positive.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Cantankerous, Cranky, Crabby Pants
Not Me! Never Me! It might however be genetic? Maybe? I think they get it from their father. I've never been that nasty in the morning........well at least not without provocation.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed doesn't even begin to describe it. Granted I was waking him two hours prior to his necessary waking time to ensure he had set his alarm to wake up on time. I know it sounds a bit absurd, but it is a necessary evil. You see if I don't go through this morning ritual, and sometimes even when I do, he oversleeps and is tardy for school. I can't be there to wake him up when he really needs it because I myself need to be at work. So I wake him earlier, taking him from his deep slumber to a morning light sleep, as he lazily waits til the last minute to bustle about only to arrive on campus with mere seconds before the bell rings.
And what do I get for my loving and gentle prodding efforts each day? That's right...cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants. "Get out of my room". "Are you just going to stand there?" (usually in response following a "no" to the the question of "Did you set your alarm?", and the instruct of "Well you better set it now"). I rarely, actually..... never receive a "Thanks mom". Though I think one is in order since I am assisting to ensure detention is avoided.
It could simply be the fact that he's 17, or that he has a severe case of senioritas (no that is isn't the female form in Spanish it's the medical term for sick of school in his senior year).
As for me, I only experience mild cases of Cantankerous, Cranky, and Crabby Pants and mine can occur anytime during the day, however seem to be more isolated to the evening hours following a long day at work upon arriving home to a disheveled house whereupon the previous mentioned 17 year old has failed to pick up after himself. It usually passes quickly after I take a few deep breaths and relax for approximately 30 minutes following the initial pick up phase.
It might also be noteworthy to mention that I experience mild cases following periods of sleep in which I have irritating dreams and people (specifically said 17 year old or Jeff) do really stupid things that require me to respond in a cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants way.
Regardless, I am certain that he has inherited his from his father. Though Jeff also has shown signs of the same disorder in its most extreme form on occasion. Perhaps it's a viral strain. Something airborne? Should we panic. Is it more widespread than just our home? Maybe I should investigate a little more.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed doesn't even begin to describe it. Granted I was waking him two hours prior to his necessary waking time to ensure he had set his alarm to wake up on time. I know it sounds a bit absurd, but it is a necessary evil. You see if I don't go through this morning ritual, and sometimes even when I do, he oversleeps and is tardy for school. I can't be there to wake him up when he really needs it because I myself need to be at work. So I wake him earlier, taking him from his deep slumber to a morning light sleep, as he lazily waits til the last minute to bustle about only to arrive on campus with mere seconds before the bell rings.
And what do I get for my loving and gentle prodding efforts each day? That's right...cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants. "Get out of my room". "Are you just going to stand there?" (usually in response following a "no" to the the question of "Did you set your alarm?", and the instruct of "Well you better set it now"). I rarely, actually..... never receive a "Thanks mom". Though I think one is in order since I am assisting to ensure detention is avoided.
It could simply be the fact that he's 17, or that he has a severe case of senioritas (no that is isn't the female form in Spanish it's the medical term for sick of school in his senior year).
As for me, I only experience mild cases of Cantankerous, Cranky, and Crabby Pants and mine can occur anytime during the day, however seem to be more isolated to the evening hours following a long day at work upon arriving home to a disheveled house whereupon the previous mentioned 17 year old has failed to pick up after himself. It usually passes quickly after I take a few deep breaths and relax for approximately 30 minutes following the initial pick up phase.
It might also be noteworthy to mention that I experience mild cases following periods of sleep in which I have irritating dreams and people (specifically said 17 year old or Jeff) do really stupid things that require me to respond in a cantankerous, cranky, and crabby pants way.
Regardless, I am certain that he has inherited his from his father. Though Jeff also has shown signs of the same disorder in its most extreme form on occasion. Perhaps it's a viral strain. Something airborne? Should we panic. Is it more widespread than just our home? Maybe I should investigate a little more.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Practicality and Love - The Perfect Pair
When you're young, love is all about the butterflies in your stomach and the flush in your cheeks. It's about lust, and tingles, and desire. Love is about dreams of the future and a life yet to come and building something together.
Young love is sweet and pure. It is untainted by life's tragedies, and betrayals, it is kind and forgiving. You trust it will endure whatever challenges lay ahead and that it can survive and strengthen over time.
For many, sadly, young love... first love, doesn't last. Only the few are fortunate enough to endure through the ages, but the majority are trial and error. And as we age, so does the love we seek and find.
Love for me is still sweet and thoughtful, but its also about practicality. I am a logical thinker, so like most things in my life, this decision too must be logical. Warm and fuzzy only gets you so far at our age. Like a bed slipper, it wears out fast in the cold of winter. It's time to think with our heads, and let our hearts take a break. They have worked long and hard.
I love Jeff, but gone are the days of my early 20 when I lived for the man in my life and my thoughts and needs took a back seat. Love this time around is a partnership. Its about give and take. If there are inequalities in one area they are balanced in another. We are equally responsible to be there for each other emotionally and physically. To help through illness and recovery. To watch each others dietary needs and exercise. We clean house together, chores are separated by skill. Its more practical for him to clean the bathroom so that I can avoid the extreme retch factor I have developed over the years since my boys out grew diapers. He does the vacuuming and I do the detail work. I put things in their place, and dust, and clean, while he does the big ticket heavy duty items.
We both wear clothes so the practical thing to do is to share the job. He washes and dries. I fold and put away. Its all about big picture and finishing details.
Kitchen clean up. He's everyday dishes, I'm counters and fine china.
Love is still sweet, like when he takes my shoes off at night for me, or ties them in the morning, or when holds my hand as I take the stairs and gives me his arm as I rise from a booth in the restaurant. Its still charming and full of comfort when he cuddles up to say goodnight or stands at the door to wave to me each morning as I leave for work. But it's practical and logical too.
It thinks about social security, life insurance, advance directives, living wills, burial plots and plans. Love these days isn't afraid to venture to topics and places where young love never thinks to go. It is practical and logical.......it has to be.
If I been more practical and logical all along life would have been very different. But then again, I wouldn't have experienced the adventures or garnered the wisdom I now claim as my own. Love comes at different stages and it morphs along the way. If we are lucky we are with the same person our entire lives as it grows and changes, but if luck is not on our side....we see each stage anew in each relationship we have as we grow and learn.
Chhese and wine, Chocolate and peanut butter, Practicality and Love, Logic and Partnership, Jeff & Lisa - these are perfect pairs.
Young love is sweet and pure. It is untainted by life's tragedies, and betrayals, it is kind and forgiving. You trust it will endure whatever challenges lay ahead and that it can survive and strengthen over time.
For many, sadly, young love... first love, doesn't last. Only the few are fortunate enough to endure through the ages, but the majority are trial and error. And as we age, so does the love we seek and find.
Love for me is still sweet and thoughtful, but its also about practicality. I am a logical thinker, so like most things in my life, this decision too must be logical. Warm and fuzzy only gets you so far at our age. Like a bed slipper, it wears out fast in the cold of winter. It's time to think with our heads, and let our hearts take a break. They have worked long and hard.
I love Jeff, but gone are the days of my early 20 when I lived for the man in my life and my thoughts and needs took a back seat. Love this time around is a partnership. Its about give and take. If there are inequalities in one area they are balanced in another. We are equally responsible to be there for each other emotionally and physically. To help through illness and recovery. To watch each others dietary needs and exercise. We clean house together, chores are separated by skill. Its more practical for him to clean the bathroom so that I can avoid the extreme retch factor I have developed over the years since my boys out grew diapers. He does the vacuuming and I do the detail work. I put things in their place, and dust, and clean, while he does the big ticket heavy duty items.
We both wear clothes so the practical thing to do is to share the job. He washes and dries. I fold and put away. Its all about big picture and finishing details.
Kitchen clean up. He's everyday dishes, I'm counters and fine china.
Love is still sweet, like when he takes my shoes off at night for me, or ties them in the morning, or when holds my hand as I take the stairs and gives me his arm as I rise from a booth in the restaurant. Its still charming and full of comfort when he cuddles up to say goodnight or stands at the door to wave to me each morning as I leave for work. But it's practical and logical too.
It thinks about social security, life insurance, advance directives, living wills, burial plots and plans. Love these days isn't afraid to venture to topics and places where young love never thinks to go. It is practical and logical.......it has to be.
If I been more practical and logical all along life would have been very different. But then again, I wouldn't have experienced the adventures or garnered the wisdom I now claim as my own. Love comes at different stages and it morphs along the way. If we are lucky we are with the same person our entire lives as it grows and changes, but if luck is not on our side....we see each stage anew in each relationship we have as we grow and learn.
Chhese and wine, Chocolate and peanut butter, Practicality and Love, Logic and Partnership, Jeff & Lisa - these are perfect pairs.
Just Breathe
Breathing. Its a simple reflexive movement. We do it without ever thinking. It just happens. From the moment we are born until the moment we die, breathing is life.
We hold our breath when we smell a pungent odor, or swim under water. We hold it when enter a public restroom, or pass by a landfill, or a chicken farm. Sometimes it's a matter of popping our ears on an airplane, or getting an x-ray done in the lab of our doctors office. Whateverthe reason, holding our breath is uncomfortable, stifling, and it offers a brief passing second of what it would be like NOT to be able to breathe.
For the most part we spend our days breathing normally, slow easy breaths that take no thought, no effort (at least for most of us). Our breathing increases with exercise and slows at rest. We take 10 deep breaths when we are angry, or anxious. It's a way to calm ourselves and find our center again. Breathing is soothing and the oxygen in our brain and muscles and blood as we visualize it brings us tranquility and calm.
We take it for granted that it will always be there.........until its not.
That one day, that one moment in time when breathing suddenly can't be found. You struggle for each ounce of air, you swim between consciousness and unconsciousness. Your focus is gone. The pressure in your chest is unbearable and your hands and feet tingle as if falling asleep. You are dying with each passing second and your brain screams that you want only to live. Someone help...Please. And then you begin to surrender...to accept and let go....and as you do.....the fight for your life begins. Others begin to fight for you.
Its not until you can't breath, until it is taken from you suddenly without warning, that you realize how valuable and miraculous the gift of breathe is. The process of our body and how it functions is truly amazing. Rather it be an illness, an accident, a source of confinement....a sudden and dramatic loss of oxygen in your blood and the ability to breathe freely, can be devastating and terrifying.
If you are lucky enough to come out the other side, even as you fight to return to some semblance of your pre-trauma state, you learn to appreciate the act itself. To stop each day and regard the miracle of breathing. You vow never again to take it for granted, and then.....you don't. You know how much it means.
Each day you wake up, you swing your legs to the side of the bed, you stretch, and you begin your day with the simple act of a Deep Cleansing Breath.
We hold our breath when we smell a pungent odor, or swim under water. We hold it when enter a public restroom, or pass by a landfill, or a chicken farm. Sometimes it's a matter of popping our ears on an airplane, or getting an x-ray done in the lab of our doctors office. Whateverthe reason, holding our breath is uncomfortable, stifling, and it offers a brief passing second of what it would be like NOT to be able to breathe.
For the most part we spend our days breathing normally, slow easy breaths that take no thought, no effort (at least for most of us). Our breathing increases with exercise and slows at rest. We take 10 deep breaths when we are angry, or anxious. It's a way to calm ourselves and find our center again. Breathing is soothing and the oxygen in our brain and muscles and blood as we visualize it brings us tranquility and calm.
We take it for granted that it will always be there.........until its not.
That one day, that one moment in time when breathing suddenly can't be found. You struggle for each ounce of air, you swim between consciousness and unconsciousness. Your focus is gone. The pressure in your chest is unbearable and your hands and feet tingle as if falling asleep. You are dying with each passing second and your brain screams that you want only to live. Someone help...Please. And then you begin to surrender...to accept and let go....and as you do.....the fight for your life begins. Others begin to fight for you.
Its not until you can't breath, until it is taken from you suddenly without warning, that you realize how valuable and miraculous the gift of breathe is. The process of our body and how it functions is truly amazing. Rather it be an illness, an accident, a source of confinement....a sudden and dramatic loss of oxygen in your blood and the ability to breathe freely, can be devastating and terrifying.
If you are lucky enough to come out the other side, even as you fight to return to some semblance of your pre-trauma state, you learn to appreciate the act itself. To stop each day and regard the miracle of breathing. You vow never again to take it for granted, and then.....you don't. You know how much it means.
Each day you wake up, you swing your legs to the side of the bed, you stretch, and you begin your day with the simple act of a Deep Cleansing Breath.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Wisdom Can't be Bought
We've all heard the saying "like a fine wine", as we work feverishly to describe and convince ourselves that aging is beautiful and more majestic than youth. Some of us go kicking and screaming into middle age and then our golden years, determined to deny the inevitable. Some of us go solemnly, surrendering all power and hope, full of dread and gloom, but resolved to accept whatever it is we are destined to become. And then there are those who age gracefully without skipping a beat. We glide through each year, knowing that challenges lie ahead, just as they have in the past, but with each new challenge comes a new found enlightenment. Wisdom is our treasure and we are ever the treasure hunters seeking pirates gold.
I want to be graceful as I go. I appreciate each day I have, and I look for the pearls, and gold and diamonds all around me. But I also look for the coal, yet to be pressed and forged into that diamond. That coal is transformed through trial.
Wisdom is the only thing of worth we have which cannot be bought or sold in a retail establishment. It will never be a commodity of capital or commercial equity. We are not born with it. We do not inherit it genetically, or bequeath it in our will to those we leave behind when we die.
Wisdom cannot be stolen, because once acquired it weaves itself into the very fabric of our DNA, who we are, what we do, how we think. It becomes a part of us, Permanently! Wisdom cannot be taught in a university, through lectures, and notes and textbooks. It's not academic knowledge, facts, or figures. Wisdom is not the same as intelligence it is deeper, more intuitive, more primal. Wisdom is instinctual, it is epiphany, it is enlightenment, and it is personal and unique to each person.
Wisdom is hard earned, through blood sweat and tears. It is forged in the battle of fire and challenge, heartbreak and loneliness. Wisdom comes from great pain, and loss, but it is strength and courage and life giving. Wisdom is hard earned and deserves respect and honor and gratitude. You cannot gain wisdom without ever facing adversity.
As I age, ever so gracefully, I have earned and fought and gained wisdom along the way. I hope I never stop. I enjoy the learning, I enjoy knowing that life is ever evolving and that I haven't finished growing yet. I wear my wisdom silently under my skin, like a badge of honor, willing to share with anyone who needs or wants it.
I do age like a fine wine, or a gourmet cheese, or a masterful piece of artwork. More valuable each day. I look back from where I've come and I'm grateful. I am happy with where I am today. And I await with childlike wonderment for what tomorrow brings.
I want to be graceful as I go. I appreciate each day I have, and I look for the pearls, and gold and diamonds all around me. But I also look for the coal, yet to be pressed and forged into that diamond. That coal is transformed through trial.
Wisdom is the only thing of worth we have which cannot be bought or sold in a retail establishment. It will never be a commodity of capital or commercial equity. We are not born with it. We do not inherit it genetically, or bequeath it in our will to those we leave behind when we die.
Wisdom cannot be stolen, because once acquired it weaves itself into the very fabric of our DNA, who we are, what we do, how we think. It becomes a part of us, Permanently! Wisdom cannot be taught in a university, through lectures, and notes and textbooks. It's not academic knowledge, facts, or figures. Wisdom is not the same as intelligence it is deeper, more intuitive, more primal. Wisdom is instinctual, it is epiphany, it is enlightenment, and it is personal and unique to each person.
Wisdom is hard earned, through blood sweat and tears. It is forged in the battle of fire and challenge, heartbreak and loneliness. Wisdom comes from great pain, and loss, but it is strength and courage and life giving. Wisdom is hard earned and deserves respect and honor and gratitude. You cannot gain wisdom without ever facing adversity.
As I age, ever so gracefully, I have earned and fought and gained wisdom along the way. I hope I never stop. I enjoy the learning, I enjoy knowing that life is ever evolving and that I haven't finished growing yet. I wear my wisdom silently under my skin, like a badge of honor, willing to share with anyone who needs or wants it.
I do age like a fine wine, or a gourmet cheese, or a masterful piece of artwork. More valuable each day. I look back from where I've come and I'm grateful. I am happy with where I am today. And I await with childlike wonderment for what tomorrow brings.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Rebooting, Fresh Starts
Its been so long since I blogged, I'm not even sure where to start. I think I'll keep this one simple and say only that I missed it. I missed the freedom of writing whatever came into my head. I missed the relief of letting it all go, like a deep exhale after a long held breath. I missed laughing at myself, and wondering if others are as crazy as I know I can sometimes be. I missed the daily camaraderie and feedback of my friends and the few random followers who would pop in and out. I missed the counterpoints to my always well thought out and never wrong personal views. (lol) . I missed the enlightenment found when those brave enough to call me out did so and actually chaned my mind. I missed the therapeutic value of putting into words the feelings that would otherwise turn to tears and drown me in deep seeded depression and self pity. I missed my slightly judgemental side which I only recognize when I read it. But most of all I just missed looking back from day to day and seeing where I've been and where I'm going and knowing that life is a journey and I am ever eternally evolving.
I'm back, under a new name and with some fresh perspectives, and I think its worth another try.
I'm back, under a new name and with some fresh perspectives, and I think its worth another try.
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