In times of stress, it’s important to maintain our balance, and keep as much love flowing as possible. It’s not always easy, but here are a few things I do to stay steady. I’m sure they would help you, too.
Journaling …
I have been writing like a madwoman in the mornings. In part, to clear my head, but also to sort out dreams, and make plans about where I’m headed with important aspects of my life. If you don’t journal, I highly recommend it.
Taking pictures …
Photography lifts me up. I love taking pictures, and I know that expressing ourselves in whatever form of creativity we love is always a bonus. Think about making a little time for your own creative endeavors. It doesn’t need to have a purpose.
Baking/Cooking …
I don’t have a lot of time to bake (or sometimes, even cook), but whenever I do, it’s always so rewarding. Taking the time to nourish ourselves properly and well is important. Isn’t there something you want to make?
Creating for others …
I enjoy creating memes and sharing poetry and music on social media. It is always my hope that I can put a smile on someone’s face, or inspire them in some little way. I’m sure you have ways of doing the same. Do it!
Pulling back from the news …
I have found, for my well-being, I need to seriously cut back on how much news I’m exposed to. The sheer negativity of what is transpiring right now is soul-crushing. We can rarely change what’s going on, but we can change how we react. We are entitled to some peace in our lives, and one way to find that is to limit fear, especially in overwhelming doses. Prioritize your peace.
Look at that little guy … a young praying mantis, sitting next to Pumpkin (R.I.P.), one of the most fearless animals I have ever known.
How is the mantis so brave? Is this innate to his species, or an individual who takes risks or is just naive and inexperienced?
Looking at ourselves, if we aren’t fearless like the mantis, how did we get this way? Perhaps the bigger question is can we become more brave?
I believe there are two core emotions – fear and love, the opposite of one another. To become fearless, or start heading in that direction, we need to love ourselves more, to tip the scales. We need to let go of things we were told that we were. These often had nothing to do with us, but more to do with the individuals that told us. Think about it.
Many of our behaviors that make us unhappy today were once developed as children because we needed them in order to cope or survive, whether to make others happy or comfortable or just to leave us alone. But we can look at ourselves now, at our fears, our outer coats of beliefs that no longer work in our lives, and release them.
It was Socrates who said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Looking and seeing who we are underneath those once-needed layers, we can love and accept ourselves for what we find, forgive ourselves for behaving in ways we have not understood. And we can change. It takes time, and it’s not always easy, but we are capable of change.
We are always braver than we believe.
p.s. As for the yet-unnoticed, young praying mantis … I called Pumpkin over to my back door for a snack, and the little one, apparently having made his point (to me), quickly disappeared.
Growing up in a house with a very anxious mother wasn’t easy. It affected everything and everybody. While I understand as an adult why things were the way they were, it was difficult as a child living with someone who needed to control just about everything. I didn’t consciously know it then, but I longed for someone in the house I could just `be’ with … without intrusion, always accepting, always comforting, and who’d never give up a secret. And my dog became that someone.
When I was 5, my brother 9, our parents decided we were old enough to have a dog, so at Christmas they gave us a beautiful Boxer puppy. I don’t think either of us quite `got’ the concept of having a dog at Christmas when there were still so many other exciting presents to open and play with. But Tinkerbell, as she was named, was not to stay with us very long. Within a few months she developed epilepsy. I don’t remember seeing the seizures my mother described Tink having on the kitchen floor, with blood and foam spewed all over the room. Perhaps I willed myself to forget. There were no cures for epilepsy back then, and Tinkerbell’s only option was to be returned to spirit. I was so young, and hadn’t become very attached to her yet, I don’t think I completely understood what had happened.
Then our parents got another dog. She was sold to them as a Boxer, 6 months old. I recall my mother being so happy that she didn’t drool like other Boxers whose faces were pushed in. There was a reason for that … she wasn’t really a Boxer. At best, she was a Boxer/pit bull terrier mix. My obedience trainer, when he looked at my childhood photos of her, told me that she was pure, and that was how they bred American Pit Bull Terriers back then. It didn’t matter … she quickly became the best friend and confidante I longed for. Her name was Dutchess. My mom had `officially’ named her Dutchess Von Wiggles because she had a butt that was constantly in happy motion.
Dutch couldn’t sleep with me as she wasn’t allowed on the second floor, so I slept with her whenever I could downstairs. We watched TV together, me resting my head gently on her side; and we curled up in sleep on the living room floor. Dutchess learned all the tricks a dog learns, and loved to go for walks or play outside in the yard. I can honestly say, in a way that only a dog or animal lover would understand, she was everything to me … she was my best friend. I did have a human best friend – happily, I always had friends — and I had my big brother to play with and taunt, but Dutchess was different. She was just what I needed – another soul in the house that simply loved me straight out, no matter what. And I adored her for that.
When I was little, my parents would cover her eyes and ears and I would hide. Then they’d let her go … “Find Jeanne!!” And Dutchess would search every nook and cranny downstairs to see where I was hiding, just bursting into wiggling, wagging joy when she found me. What child doesn’t live for those moments? She made me feel safe in a childhood where feeling emotionally safe wasn’t easy. Dutch was the heart, soul, and embodiment of unconditional love. She was both my rock and my wings, my compass and stars; she was my comfort and confidante. She was one little girl’s very best friend.
* This story was originally posted in 2007, and has been edited and updated.
One of my small daily pleasures each morning once I’ve fed Charlie and made my coffee is to sit by the living room window and do two things – a perusal of Instagram, a gathering if you will, of positive words, thoughts and images (occasionally my own work), and then sharing them in my Stories. Then I journal to clear out the cobwebs, sort out my challenges, put to paper my joys and angst … whatever the day calls for.
While on IG, I always hope that whoever stops by gains some benefit from what I post. We know, vaguely, how the algorithms work; you get more of what you like (almost a corollary of karma, right?), and therefore, I find vast amounts of insight, positivity, and beauty. Some mornings, when I open the app, I am greeted with exactly what I need to know for that day. Because I do believe the Universe works that way.
Sometimes I share things like this, courtesy of @spiritualgoal –
But mostly, I’m sharing insights, inspiration, and the beauty of life.
Inevitably, while I scroll, I come across other things, often in Threads, about our current political circumstances. And sometimes, I drop in and read, because most of what’s really happening is on social nowadays, not the mainstream media. I find life – mental and emotional life – is a balancing act of trying to remain informed and at the same time, keeping my sanity.
It’s why the positivity is so important. Knowing, remembering, how important we are in the larger scheme of things. Even just being centered and loving in this world is a huge contribution. Holding the place of love.
And sometimes I create my own memes. This one’s for you. Just keep holding that light up high.
It’s the end of April and the end of National Poetry Month. I felt we were overdue for a love poem.
PERMANENTLY
One day the Nouns were clustered in the street. An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty. The Nouns were struck, moved, changed. The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.
Each Sentence says one thing – for example, “Although it was a dark, rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure and sweet expression on her face until the day I perish from the green, effective earth.”
Or, “Will you please close the window, Andrew?”
Or, for example, “Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the heat from the boiler factory which exists nearby.”
In the springtime, the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass. A lonely conjunction here and there would call, “And! But!” But the Adjective did not emerge.
As the adjective is lost in the sentence, So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat – You have enchanted me with a single kiss Which can never be undone Until the destruction of language.
Still A Dreamer 
