Reflections

Perfection

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

Perfection sucks. Plain and simple.

This is not to say we shouldn’t strive for the highest standards or do the very best we can do, but striving to always be perfect is a useless and demoralizing task. Yet it’s how many of us live and  how many of us were raised. Things had to be perfect … we had to be perfect.

When you aim for perfection, you discover it’s a moving target.  ~George Fisher

Growing up, many of us had parents and teachers that believed in perfection, and who were no doubt raised the same way. Every little thing had to be just so. No messes, no mistakes. It’s hard for a parent to teach a child that not being perfect is really OK when the opposite message was enforced in them. And so the manacles of impossible perfection get passed on from parent to child.

Have no fear of perfection – you’ll never reach it.  ~Salvador Dali

Even knowing this, we get caught up on this search for perfection again and again. Like a piece of cloth catching on a rusty nail as we walk by, we lament the tiny new bubble of thread in the fabric instead of seeing how beautiful the whole still remains.

You see, when weaving a blanket, an Indian woman leaves a flaw in the weaving of that blanket to let the soul out.  ~Martha Graham

We feel compelled towards perfection in our need for immaculately clean homes, spotless clothing, the perfect score in golf, the car without the tiniest of marks in the finish. We must have perfect grades, the best performance in our jobs, in sports and other accomplishments, berating ourselves ruthlessly when we “fail.” We are so horribly unfair to ourselves, is it any wonder so many people have difficulty reaching goals and dreams, having allowed so many stumbling blocks to remain in our path?

Always live up to your standards – by lowering them, if necessary.  ~Mignon McLaughlin

I was once given an assignment. I was told to put a deliberate flaw in every drawing I did as a way of getting past my fear of the drawing being less than perfect. It still is a challenge that I cringe before, and if I do it, I can’t let it stay for long. Perfection takes away the enjoyment of the moment, of whatever we’ve worked on and completed, and … the enjoyment of others, too. For those of us who were raised this way, it’s a lifelong challenge, but let it go.

Let perfection go. Pick it up in your hand and blow it away like the tiny fluffs of a spent dandelion. Because here’s the truth. In the deepest sense of the word, we are already perfect. And we never need to try so hard.

Sometimes… when you hold out for everything, you walk away with nothing.  ~From the television show Ally McBeal

Last Time You Danced?

/ still a dreamer

When was the last time you danced?
A question put to the sick by a Native American medicine man

This headed up the June 24th post by Mark Nepo in his The Book of Awakening. And I had to stop. When was the last time I danced? When was the last time I sang? Or really laughed hard? And the answer I came up with was that whenever it was, it was too, too long ago. And that got me pretty bummed. I love to dance.

There are periods in our lives when dancing is just so low on the agenda that we forget all about it. Although I vaguely remember dancing about the kitchen, holding one of my cats when she was really not doing well. I thought a loving waltz might help. I’m guessing it did, I’m sure as much for me as her.

Dancing is wonderful and I’ve been dancing for as long as I can remember. Lately? Not so much. With all that’s been going on I’ve barely listened to music or read a whole book. Yesterday, with a number of stressful situations at least partially resolved, I decided to change all that. I looked through my CD’s and put on a favorite that I haven’t listened to in a long time, p.s. A Toad Retrospective from Toad the Wet Sprocket. I  came across them in the early 90’s and  have several of their albums; I love their sound and this compilation is their best.

I hit “Play” and grabbed my book, Skinny Dip, something cool to drink, and sat down on the sofa and read. And read. And read `til I finished the book. (Yes, I did make dinner for all those who were hungry and then continued reading.)

OK, I didn’t dance.  But I listened to music I love and allowed myself something I rarely do … to simply relax and enjoy. I admit I am still feeling a wee bit guilty, but all the things I didn’t do are still right here waiting for me, and today is another day. Dance? That might happen at any time.

So you might ask yourself … when was the last time you danced? sang? laughed so hard you couldn’t stop? I’m certainly no medicine man, but if the answer is anything like mine was … maybe you, too, need to carve out a little “you” time. Put on the music and see what happens.

Home, Sweet Home

/ still a dreamer / 7 Comments

This may not look much like Home, Sweet Home, but to this tired kitty it most surely is.

In what amounted to two sleepless nights and endless stress for mama, it was what looked like a near brush with death for Gypsy Rose. In the morning, she started staggering, falling over and had no focus whatsoever. She was not in control of any of her movements. But by the time I left for the vet, Gypsy was sitting, looking at me as if nothing had happened.  Despite a thorough exam, there’s not much to diagnose if everything checks out normal. Perhaps a petit mal seizure, considering Gypsy had experienced similar neurological issues about 9 months ago.

Back home. About 5 hours later, imagine that episode times 5. Unable to stand, nystagmus (rapid back and forth eye movement), and head shaking, Gypsy no longer recognized me. Panicked, with my vet no longer available, I called a friend who suggested her own vet. My friend, bless her heart, came and got Gypsy and badly shaken me and took us there. Gypsy Rose was admitted with no sure diagnosis. A brain tumor or cancer could not be ruled out.

Unable to sleep, I ran the gamut of possibilities – from finding Gypsy passed over in the night at the vet’s to her showing improvement. I was/am totally unprepared to lose another cat after having lost two in the last 5 months. But I couldn’t know if it was her time to go or not. I prayed for Gypsy’s highest and best and that I would know what to do for her.

This morning, two days later, I was told Gypsy was wobbly, but walking, the nystagmus had stopped, and she had begun to eat and drink on her own. I brought her home with her medications. As to what is really going on with her only an $1800 MRI will definitively diagnose. The vets and I have opted for symptomatic treatment.

Gypsy can’t be left alone too long right now. She walks a bit like a drunken sailor, but made a beeline to the water bowl in the kitchen and drank a good long time. She wanted to go upstairs and be under the daybed. I brought my coffee and the book I’ve been wanting to read for days.

So now, with a soft westerly breeze coming in the window, sunshine and blue sky, I lie about 2′ away from her on the floor, reading. Gypsy Rose has closed her eyes and is purring in her sleep. It’s the music I’ve been needing to hear, and in this moment, all is blissfully well.

Losing a loved animal is to lose a part of one’s heart. She and I have been blessed with another chance.

Letter to Yourself

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

In a recent issue of O magazine, there was an article in which O asked 17 accomplished women and men what advice they’d give the 25 year-olds they used to be.  Some of them were really terrific. Whoopi Goldberg advised her younger self to stay out of her own way. Shirley Maclaine told herself that “regardless of how outrageous it may seem, ask for guidance from your higher self and follow it.” And to eat less sugar. Candy Crowley, CNN anchor and chief political correspondent, would have told her 25 year-old self to “be brave; that most times the answer to What’s the worst that can happen? is Nothing you can’t handle.”

I admit I liked Shirley Maclaine’s the best of all of them, but it did get me to thinking. What would I write to my 25 year-old self? Oh, there’s so much I would say to her. But then I thought some more. What would I write to my 5 or 6 year-old self? And that just brought tears to my eyes. I would just cuddle up that kid whose blonde curls were starting to straighten out and let her know how alright everything was always going to be, no matter what. I would want to tell her that she is fine and will always be fine.

After I post this, I am going to sit down and think some more about what I’d like to write to myself at 5 or 6. Something about that age appeals to me. Think about it – what would you write to you when you were 25? What would the little boy or girl of 5 or 6 years old have benefited from knowing back then? I suspect your answers, your advice to younger you, might be a good thing for you to know.

I’d leave the computer and get your pen on paper. Dear ….

Moving through The Flame

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

I believe it was the Christmas before last that a dear friend gave me The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo. Nepo is a poet who writes a daily (prose) offering of guidance for the reader, drawn from his own experiences, from others who struggle with their own humanness as well as the wisdom of the great traditions and teachers. Every day is a different subject and a beautifully written piece.

When I first got the book, I diligently followed along every day, enjoying the wisdom offered for the entire year. Now I dip in when I feel the call to do so which almost always assures me of a nugget of truth which is exactly what I need to hear at that time. I opened the book this morning to where my bookmark sat, May 25th, Through the Wall of Flame. The first paragraph reads:

Living long enough, we each find ourselves surrounded by an old way of being, thinking, or loving that is going up in flames. In that unexpected moment, we usually find ourselves full of fear, feeling trapped by an old way of life coming in on us. But this is the passage of rebirth that we must move through if our lives are to unfold. It is the momentary and painful crossing from what is old into what is new.

Nepo goes on to say how understandable it is to stall at this wall of flame, not wanting to go through, but that old ways can burn forever, and we can waste years in the waiting for the flames to go out. And they often never do.

I find there are times in life where things seem to be going smoothly, where we are moving easily forward in positive ways, where our goals and dreams are clearly in view. And then there are other times when they are obscured by Nepo’s described wall of flames … time to learn another lesson to help us grow. Oftentimes, the lessons are the same ones we have been learning and struggling with all along, but now at a new level, a new depth, with a greater challenge and … with a greater reward for pushing through. Even though we may occasionally lose sight of it in the trying.

Over the years, I have been told to be thankful for these challenges as they are opportunities to grow and to grow closer to my dreams. It’s not always easy to cross through the flames, and, while our hands are burning hot, to be grateful as well. The choice, however, is to stay safe at a far greater cost. What I have learned to do when it seems there are flames all about me is to just put one foot in front of the other and believe. Believe that I am always loved, believe that I will always survive the jump through, and believe that what is on the other side is richer than what I ever imagined.

In front of a wall of flames? Let’s all of us take a breath. Ready? Jump!