Social Networking, Social Media. Just another source of mutual masturbation for those who want their egos stroked, and those who love to do the stroking. For others it is a wasteland of rejection, snubbing, rumor mongering, and invisibility. It is one more place to feel unpopular and go unnoticed. Just another place to feel like a quiet voice lost in a crowd.
It is an interesting place for a voyeur Outsider to watch the interplay, misunderstandings and obvious boot-licking that goes on in all social groups no matter the age, education or social status. But it is also another reason for an Outsider to feel even more the social pariah by viewing these interactions and having to fight the desire to flee from the human race in all its sticky glory.
Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy the social networks as a way to keep connected with friends and family, and to keep my finger on the pulse of the world around me. But at the same time I find myself feeling the same hurt and invisibility of the social fringy that I was in high school. Funny how humans need social interaction and acceptance, even when they shun society as a whole. Shun and shunned, all in one untidy package.
Oddly, and maybe inappropriately, I am minded of overcrowded chickens; one will be selected at random to be the pariah, to be slowly pecked to death by the other chickens. A social sacrifice. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It is random and subjective. I do know this is an exaggeration, an over dramatic viewpoint based on my own feelings of being the social pariah. It is an attempt to understand the subjective nature of popularity.
Why do some people draw a fawning crowd of sycophants, while others seem to be invisible to the populace? I used to think it was based largely on sex appeal, attractiveness, or in some cases wealth and notoriety. Actually, I still believe this to a degree, but there is something else at work. And I can't quite put my finger on it. Do some put off a pheromone that draws in those inclined to fawn and coo? And do others put off the opposing pheromone that keeps everyone at a polite distance, avoiding eye contact and interactions? It is more curiosity than finger pointing. I know there are those that seek out the crowds, parties, vigorously seek attention and acclaim. And others, like myself, who tend to avoid crowds, lurk in the shadowy fringes, make unpopular observations about the dark messiness of society, and generally make others uncomfortable about their own humanity and desires for acceptance.
This is a double edged sword. As one who lurks on the fringe, I feel the angst of being the Outcast and social pariah, but know that it is self inflicted. Self inflicted in the sense that I fight against any urges to do the "acceptable thing," to jump through social hoops, to bend my personality to fit into that weirdly subjective standard of popularity. If anything I perversely turn away from doing what I know could raise my standings in the eyes of others, those that seem to "count" in the popularity contest. And yet, I find myself hurt by the feelings of invisibility and nonacceptance. I know I can't have it both ways. And so I continue to choose the solitary path, despite the loneliness and feelings of rejection.
Maybe as a writer I feel I have to suffer for my art? Maybe I am just an expert at self-flagellation? Maybe I am too empathic and allow myself to see too deeply into the hearts of others? I see and understand what goes on all around me, sometimes feeling as if I am prying up the masks and seeing the true faces beneath. Unhappy faces. Bestial faces. This is frightening and does little to encourage me to seek out my fellow humanity. No, not everyone hides beneath a mask. There are those who are open natured, good and kind. But there are those who are self-centered, self-obsessed, crass, harsh and uncaring, hiding behind masks of joviality.
It is not a gift to be able to see with unscaled eyes, it is a curse. It makes it near impossible to fit into regular society without also creating a mask, a mask of the calm, rational, "normal" human. So we all work to fit into society in one way, shape or form. For some, it is just to slip past unnoticed, thought of as "normal," blend in with chameleon-like skill, be the fly-on-the-wall to observe and take note of the strange interactions of the species Homo sapien.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Real Homer
I have a kitten, found alone and cold, tiny and helpless, just a few feet from the cemetary where I walk my dogs. Of course I took the baby, snuggled him into my sweatshirt, picked up kitten formula at my local feed store and took him home to join my hairy tribe. At first I jokingly said, "Hugo (my beloved Pit-mix) thinks I should name him Snack." And so that was his name for the first week or two while I waited for a more appropriate name to present itself. The name should have been obvious, "Homer," after my great-grandfather who is buried in that cemetary, and who I have always thought has kept an eye on the family over the years. Homer the kitten is adorable, as are all kittens. He is black as coal, green-eyed and a bundle of hilarity with a zest for life and fun.
But who is The Real Homer? Homer Clyde Lemons, father of my dear grandma Pearl. Grampa raised sheep, dairy cattle and hops. He lived in a farmhouse several miles from town, with an oak grove, creek and pond full of tadpoles, and a giant barn with a rope swing in the hay loft. I remember summer days at Grampa's, chasing lambs, catching frogs and tadpoles, swinging into stickery mounds of hay, trying to catch the skittish barn kittens, eating blackberries warm from the sun, and having Grampa feed us farmhand sized meals replete with vast quantities of milk (he was a dairy man after all).
Homer Lemons loved children and babies. He was just about the perfect Grampa, with a goofy sense of humor and plenty of time to explain things to his grandkids. One of my few regrets is that I did not stop by to see him the last time I was in his neck of the woods a few months before he died. That was 33 years ago, and I still regret it.
Homer did cool things in his younger days; broke horses, traveled the country working, in Idaho he met and eloped with the "spinster schoolmarm," my Grandma Sadie (who died when I was only 2, so sadly she is just a sweet face in old photos). In the 30's, during the depths of the Great Depression, Homer brought his family out to the Willamette Valley, to the small farming community of Canby. He had his eye on a farm, one that wasn't available, yet. So Homer moved his family into a building nearby that had in essence been a chicken coop at one point. This is one of the staples of our Family Lore: Grampa and the Chicken Coop. It wasn't an ideal home for a family of five, but it kept the weather off while Homer and Sadie worked to buy the dream farm. And they did. A beautiful piece of fertile land on the Gribble prairie with the aforementioned house, barn, creek and oak grove. He grew hops, hiring itinerant workers during the harvest, housing them in an outbuilding, and Grandma cooked meals over a woodstove set out in the yard. The Hop House blew off of it's foundation during the Columbus Day Storm of 1960, and slowly settled into the earth so that by the time I was old enough to go exploring, the doorway was only about three feet high, which made the vast building seem mysterious and extra spooky.
In his later years, Homer led an active life, being a favorite dance partner at the monthy Grange Hall dances, and had several "lady friends" over the years (long after Grandma died, of course). It was only in his last few years that he seemed to slow down, finally dying peacefully at the respectable age of 90.
I hadn't known where Grampa was buried until just a few months ago, and coincidently, it is the very same cemetary that I have been walking my dogs in for the last 8 months or so. I had passed his gravestone hundreds of times before my Mom and I searched and found it back in September. Since then, I have stopped and talked to Grampa on a pretty regular basis. Especially since the last three months have been excessively stressful for me. In a short period of time I have ended a decade long relationship, been passed over for several jobs I was sure I was going to get (after protracted interview and hiring procedures), and I've decided to buy a house (though I can barely afford my rent, my job security is non-existant, and flying solo is a struggle at best). So, needless to say, my stressload has been a bit overbearing at times (okay, most of the time).
I have found that stopping and talking with Grampa is soothing, and helps me leave my burdens behind for a brief interlude. And one real beauty of a cemetary is that if someone were to see me kneeling at Grampa's grave, brushing leaves from his headstone, sobbing uncontrollably and and rambling incoherently about my troubles, fears, lonliness and feelings of failure, no one would dare interfere. A cemetary is a place that welcomes grief, accepts lonliness, honors tears, and politely looks the other way when faced with hysterics and sobbing.
I admit, this behavior has become more frequent and common as the days march by towards winter and I feel I am not much closer to my dreams, or even peace. This week, I was on my knees in the near-frozen, damp turf pretending to brush away fallen leaves, so if anyone were to see they would not take a second look (granted the only living presence in the cemetary were me and my two dogs). I sobbed so hard I could barely catch my breath as I told Grampa of my failures and struggles, feelings of persecution and rejection, and a near desperate lonliness born of too many burdens and no one to share the load. Yes it was self pity, but somewhat justified. Grampa listened quietly (if he had done anything else, I'm sure the shock and terror would have banished any self pity), and I was reminded of Grampa and The Chicken Coop. I told myself that if he had the patience to live in a former chicken domicile while awaiting his dream, I could wait in the relative comfort and solitude of my current situation. Granted, Grampa had his sweet Sadie at his side, but those were uncertain times and they were going way out on a limb to make their dream a reality. So, as I inch further and further out onto the limb that is my current life, waiting to hear the creaking of it preparing to snap under my weight, I will keep reminding myself that I could be living in a Chicken Coop.
Now I have a little, black cat named after a good man. A little, black cat that I am seeing as my lucky charm for reminding me every day of my truely great Grampa. Thank you Grampa Homer, for your kind and gentle nature, your good humor, love of life, and for passing along strong genes and a mental fortitude that will save me. And thanks for The Chicken Coop
But who is The Real Homer? Homer Clyde Lemons, father of my dear grandma Pearl. Grampa raised sheep, dairy cattle and hops. He lived in a farmhouse several miles from town, with an oak grove, creek and pond full of tadpoles, and a giant barn with a rope swing in the hay loft. I remember summer days at Grampa's, chasing lambs, catching frogs and tadpoles, swinging into stickery mounds of hay, trying to catch the skittish barn kittens, eating blackberries warm from the sun, and having Grampa feed us farmhand sized meals replete with vast quantities of milk (he was a dairy man after all).
Homer Lemons loved children and babies. He was just about the perfect Grampa, with a goofy sense of humor and plenty of time to explain things to his grandkids. One of my few regrets is that I did not stop by to see him the last time I was in his neck of the woods a few months before he died. That was 33 years ago, and I still regret it.
Homer did cool things in his younger days; broke horses, traveled the country working, in Idaho he met and eloped with the "spinster schoolmarm," my Grandma Sadie (who died when I was only 2, so sadly she is just a sweet face in old photos). In the 30's, during the depths of the Great Depression, Homer brought his family out to the Willamette Valley, to the small farming community of Canby. He had his eye on a farm, one that wasn't available, yet. So Homer moved his family into a building nearby that had in essence been a chicken coop at one point. This is one of the staples of our Family Lore: Grampa and the Chicken Coop. It wasn't an ideal home for a family of five, but it kept the weather off while Homer and Sadie worked to buy the dream farm. And they did. A beautiful piece of fertile land on the Gribble prairie with the aforementioned house, barn, creek and oak grove. He grew hops, hiring itinerant workers during the harvest, housing them in an outbuilding, and Grandma cooked meals over a woodstove set out in the yard. The Hop House blew off of it's foundation during the Columbus Day Storm of 1960, and slowly settled into the earth so that by the time I was old enough to go exploring, the doorway was only about three feet high, which made the vast building seem mysterious and extra spooky.
In his later years, Homer led an active life, being a favorite dance partner at the monthy Grange Hall dances, and had several "lady friends" over the years (long after Grandma died, of course). It was only in his last few years that he seemed to slow down, finally dying peacefully at the respectable age of 90.
I hadn't known where Grampa was buried until just a few months ago, and coincidently, it is the very same cemetary that I have been walking my dogs in for the last 8 months or so. I had passed his gravestone hundreds of times before my Mom and I searched and found it back in September. Since then, I have stopped and talked to Grampa on a pretty regular basis. Especially since the last three months have been excessively stressful for me. In a short period of time I have ended a decade long relationship, been passed over for several jobs I was sure I was going to get (after protracted interview and hiring procedures), and I've decided to buy a house (though I can barely afford my rent, my job security is non-existant, and flying solo is a struggle at best). So, needless to say, my stressload has been a bit overbearing at times (okay, most of the time).
I have found that stopping and talking with Grampa is soothing, and helps me leave my burdens behind for a brief interlude. And one real beauty of a cemetary is that if someone were to see me kneeling at Grampa's grave, brushing leaves from his headstone, sobbing uncontrollably and and rambling incoherently about my troubles, fears, lonliness and feelings of failure, no one would dare interfere. A cemetary is a place that welcomes grief, accepts lonliness, honors tears, and politely looks the other way when faced with hysterics and sobbing.
I admit, this behavior has become more frequent and common as the days march by towards winter and I feel I am not much closer to my dreams, or even peace. This week, I was on my knees in the near-frozen, damp turf pretending to brush away fallen leaves, so if anyone were to see they would not take a second look (granted the only living presence in the cemetary were me and my two dogs). I sobbed so hard I could barely catch my breath as I told Grampa of my failures and struggles, feelings of persecution and rejection, and a near desperate lonliness born of too many burdens and no one to share the load. Yes it was self pity, but somewhat justified. Grampa listened quietly (if he had done anything else, I'm sure the shock and terror would have banished any self pity), and I was reminded of Grampa and The Chicken Coop. I told myself that if he had the patience to live in a former chicken domicile while awaiting his dream, I could wait in the relative comfort and solitude of my current situation. Granted, Grampa had his sweet Sadie at his side, but those were uncertain times and they were going way out on a limb to make their dream a reality. So, as I inch further and further out onto the limb that is my current life, waiting to hear the creaking of it preparing to snap under my weight, I will keep reminding myself that I could be living in a Chicken Coop.
Now I have a little, black cat named after a good man. A little, black cat that I am seeing as my lucky charm for reminding me every day of my truely great Grampa. Thank you Grampa Homer, for your kind and gentle nature, your good humor, love of life, and for passing along strong genes and a mental fortitude that will save me. And thanks for The Chicken Coop
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Mist in the Gloaming
Sunset Fuschia, fading to Lavender, finally to Ashes of Roses.
Tangerine Moon rising in the east, Autumn Ripe, Luminous Halo.
The light fades as the mist rises in the gloaming.
The cemetary is tranquil.
The still air is Autumn brisk, filling my lungs with the spice of fallen leaves and flowers gone to seed.
My dogs trot faithful at my side, brief strain of the leashes at the glimpse of a cottontail in the dusk.
They resist nature's urge for the chase, and stay by my side.
Such Glory revives my Spirit.
I regain my Strength, Energy and Balance.
I feel my Power surge, pushing out self-doubt and debilitating fears.
I chant the Tenets of my Chosen Path: Harmony, Health, Love, Happiness, Peace, Abundance, Protection.
I wrap my renewed Energy around my Spirit like Armor.
Again I talk myself off the ledge. Renew promises to myself.
I feel the Dream within my Reach.
I must not doubt Myself.
I will not doubt Myself.
I do not doubt Myself.
Tangerine Moon rising in the east, Autumn Ripe, Luminous Halo.
The light fades as the mist rises in the gloaming.
The cemetary is tranquil.
The still air is Autumn brisk, filling my lungs with the spice of fallen leaves and flowers gone to seed.
My dogs trot faithful at my side, brief strain of the leashes at the glimpse of a cottontail in the dusk.
They resist nature's urge for the chase, and stay by my side.
Such Glory revives my Spirit.
I regain my Strength, Energy and Balance.
I feel my Power surge, pushing out self-doubt and debilitating fears.
I chant the Tenets of my Chosen Path: Harmony, Health, Love, Happiness, Peace, Abundance, Protection.
I wrap my renewed Energy around my Spirit like Armor.
Again I talk myself off the ledge. Renew promises to myself.
I feel the Dream within my Reach.
I must not doubt Myself.
I will not doubt Myself.
I do not doubt Myself.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Dark, Light and Balance
Last night I randomly opened my copy of "Way of the Green Witch" and, as magic tends to happen, I was on the page I needed to see. I read the priorities of a Green Witch (or Hedgewitch, as I label myself): The Earth, Humanity, Self. I am far better at understanding the needs and intricacies of The Earth and Humanity, than I am of understanding and caring for Self.
The book told me what I needed to hear: that discovering one's true Self is a complicated, rigorous, and often life-long journey. The we (meaning me) often hide our darkest selves deep within our psyche, so deep we may not even be aware of their existence. That often we (meaning me) become so adept at lying to ourselves about our state of happiness and well being that we don't even hear the lies, or know them for what they are. I know I do this, I know I tell myself what I want to be the Truth instead of recognizing my reality for what it is. I have spent so much of my life as an illusion of Smoke and Mirrors. I create the Illusion for myself as much as for others. The book reminded me that we all have a Dark side that we often hide so deep within that we aren't even aware of its existence. But we need Dark to Balance the Light. We need to understand the Dark part of our Nature in order to fully understand ourself, be our true Self and find Balance.
Dark is not Bad. It is not Evil. It is not Wrong. I feel that often we (meaning me) supress the parts of our Nature that we deem unacceptable to the masses, the white-bread populace, Corporate Amercia, Primetime TV. We hide the Dark so we can slip through the mass of humanity unnoticed, instead of feeling isolated and alone. I admit that I am often on the fringe of society and a loner by choice, this is one aspect that makes me a Hedgewitch. But I need to discover the Dark inside and reconcile it with the Light in order to find my true Self, true Balance, and inner Peace.
We must have Dark to Balance the Light. By finding those corners of shadowed psyche we can achieve Strength, Balance and Power. True Balance is a powerful energy in and of itself. Just as physical Balance is imperative to physical strength and power, so is mental Balance imperative to mental strength and power. True Balance will prevent Life's vagaries from wreaking havoc and mayhem. Balance will help me better weather the storms that are on the horizon.
My Goal, as I enter this new phase of my life, is to search every nook of my inner Self, find my hidden Dark Nature and let her out into the Light to play. To stop living by Smoke and Mirrors, find the Dark, understand myself, leave illusion behind and step into Reality. Balance my Dark and Light. Understand my True Self. Find my Balance so I can hold strong in the face of adversity, and revel in the Joy of my Life.
The book told me what I needed to hear: that discovering one's true Self is a complicated, rigorous, and often life-long journey. The we (meaning me) often hide our darkest selves deep within our psyche, so deep we may not even be aware of their existence. That often we (meaning me) become so adept at lying to ourselves about our state of happiness and well being that we don't even hear the lies, or know them for what they are. I know I do this, I know I tell myself what I want to be the Truth instead of recognizing my reality for what it is. I have spent so much of my life as an illusion of Smoke and Mirrors. I create the Illusion for myself as much as for others. The book reminded me that we all have a Dark side that we often hide so deep within that we aren't even aware of its existence. But we need Dark to Balance the Light. We need to understand the Dark part of our Nature in order to fully understand ourself, be our true Self and find Balance.
Dark is not Bad. It is not Evil. It is not Wrong. I feel that often we (meaning me) supress the parts of our Nature that we deem unacceptable to the masses, the white-bread populace, Corporate Amercia, Primetime TV. We hide the Dark so we can slip through the mass of humanity unnoticed, instead of feeling isolated and alone. I admit that I am often on the fringe of society and a loner by choice, this is one aspect that makes me a Hedgewitch. But I need to discover the Dark inside and reconcile it with the Light in order to find my true Self, true Balance, and inner Peace.
We must have Dark to Balance the Light. By finding those corners of shadowed psyche we can achieve Strength, Balance and Power. True Balance is a powerful energy in and of itself. Just as physical Balance is imperative to physical strength and power, so is mental Balance imperative to mental strength and power. True Balance will prevent Life's vagaries from wreaking havoc and mayhem. Balance will help me better weather the storms that are on the horizon.
My Goal, as I enter this new phase of my life, is to search every nook of my inner Self, find my hidden Dark Nature and let her out into the Light to play. To stop living by Smoke and Mirrors, find the Dark, understand myself, leave illusion behind and step into Reality. Balance my Dark and Light. Understand my True Self. Find my Balance so I can hold strong in the face of adversity, and revel in the Joy of my Life.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Life in Limbo
Life is making me more than just a trifle crazy lately. It seems I spend so much time waiting for results of my every effort, left in Limbo, adrift, hovering, clock watching. I want to move forward with so many aspects of Life, and I make concerted efforts to do so, but it feels as if I put my attempts out into the ether and then have to sit back and wait an eternity to see if the powers that be even noticed my endeavors.
As I wait of course I think of everything that could go wrong with every plan that I try to set into motion. I will obsessively go over transactions in my head, searching for flaws, I will re-proofread documents and applications looking for any minutiae that may act as a rock in the cogs. The problem with Limbo is it gives me far too much time to think, ponder, obsess, tweak.
I mentally rein myself in, try to force Brain to move onto a different track, change speed and direction. But inevitably, Brain will jump back onto the obsession track if I'm not riding the reins hard, watching every move, sensing underlying quivers of disobedience. Damn Brain anyway.
I do tell myself that being in Limbo about housing, job, life in general, is far less stressful than waiting to hear back on biopsy results, or news on a missing or injured family member, or... or... or... There are so many other things far worse to be waiting for than whether or not I will get to buy a house, get a better paying job, or figure out what I want to do with my life. I know that Limbo such as mine is agonizing more because it is the anticipation and knowledge that I am standing on the edge on an abyss of unknown depth, waiting to step off into a new adventure of unlimited potential.
As I wait of course I think of everything that could go wrong with every plan that I try to set into motion. I will obsessively go over transactions in my head, searching for flaws, I will re-proofread documents and applications looking for any minutiae that may act as a rock in the cogs. The problem with Limbo is it gives me far too much time to think, ponder, obsess, tweak.
I mentally rein myself in, try to force Brain to move onto a different track, change speed and direction. But inevitably, Brain will jump back onto the obsession track if I'm not riding the reins hard, watching every move, sensing underlying quivers of disobedience. Damn Brain anyway.
I do tell myself that being in Limbo about housing, job, life in general, is far less stressful than waiting to hear back on biopsy results, or news on a missing or injured family member, or... or... or... There are so many other things far worse to be waiting for than whether or not I will get to buy a house, get a better paying job, or figure out what I want to do with my life. I know that Limbo such as mine is agonizing more because it is the anticipation and knowledge that I am standing on the edge on an abyss of unknown depth, waiting to step off into a new adventure of unlimited potential.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Cause and Effect
Cause and Effect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Immoveable Object, Unstoppable Force.
I am often overanalytical about how my actions affect the world around me. There are times when I become nearly paralyzed with the knowledge of how my every action and deed can have a ripple affect, changing the world around me, even if only by an infinitesimal mote. Plastic bags, recycling, chemical cleaners, oil spills, garbage, excessive packaging. How my behaviors, emotions, reactions, words can influence those around me either for good or ill. A misunderstood phrase, a snatch of conversation taken out of context, a squint mistaken for a scowl, short temper, anxiety caused over-reactions. All the little minutiae of life that add up to who I am, what I do, how I am perceived.
Lately, as I ponder how I am often overconcerned at how my behavior affects those around me, I am stymied at how often others are completely unaware at just how much their actions affect those around them. So many people are willing to point fingers at the misbehavior of those in their life without pondering just how their own actions, words and deeds may have created or caused the behavior. They move through life oblivious, unconcerned. They cannot see the ripples, or just choose to ignore them. Cause and Effect. Action, Reaction.
We are influenced by the events around us, just as the events around us are influenced by our Actions and Reactions. Cause and Effect. I see this as a giant spider web; touch any part of the web and the vibration will be felt throughout, the spider reacts, deciding if it is food or threat, then acts accordingly. Flee or Feed.
I know how my actions can influence those around me. Whether it is just a smile and courtesy to the overworked gas station attendant, or a short tempered reaction to another inane question from an annoying telemarketer. I also know how my words and actions can affect those that I care about. And this is where caution must be taken. The closer you are to someone, the deeper your affect on them.
On the flip side of this, I am having to force myself to be less concerned at how my actions affect others, and instead focus on how my actions affect ME. Too many times in my life I have been untrue to myself, to my nature, to my very essence, all because I have been concerned with action and reaction. How I am perceived, how I am judged, how I measure up. Every time it has happened, I see what I have done, analyze my behavior, see the reasons behind my actions and vow to never do it again. And yet, I fall into the same pattern again. It is a self-sabotaging behavior. I know it for what it is. I can even see myself doing it again, and will justify it because I tell myself I am merely adjusting to a relationship, making a few compromises as we all must to make a relationship work, being easy-going, mellow. And to some degree, this is true. But I often find myself agreeing to things I don't want to do, modifying my behavior to fit an acceptable role.
Because of this, I feel like in the public eye I am often playing a role in life. Just a walk on actor, a stand in, a body double, the understudy. I know I do this because I feel as if I were to be completely myself, no holds barred, unguarded, that I would find myself even more an outcast than I already feel. I know all my friends would argue this, tell me they love me for who I am, would accept me no matter what. And of a few of them, I would believe this. I know my close family would love me no matter what, because that is what we do (just as I would love them, protect them and cherish them no matter what).
But to the world in general, only a fraction of me is for public viewing. The rest is shielded by caution. As for my relationships, sometimes I think that those I have been closest to may know me the least, for it is for them that I have altered myself the most. This is a tragedy.
As I read over these words, they are rambling and raw. Incoherence caused by fatigue, stress, and inner confusion. I am at an odd crossroads in my life. I am presented with paths that will alter the world as I know it, change my life completely and irrevocably. I have paths before me that must be taken despite the pain, anguish, stress, loneliness, discomfort and fear that are with me now and will be my companions for some time to come. It is because of choices I have made, am making and have yet to make that I am grappling with Cause and Effect. I know I need to be true to myself, find my own way, keep moving forward despite the ripples that spread out from every step I take. I am struggling to take complete ownership of my life, my fate, my destiny. I accept the consequences of my actions, and refuse to justify my reactions. I know I can do this by Myself, for Myself.
I will become the Immovable Object and the Unstoppable Force.
I am often overanalytical about how my actions affect the world around me. There are times when I become nearly paralyzed with the knowledge of how my every action and deed can have a ripple affect, changing the world around me, even if only by an infinitesimal mote. Plastic bags, recycling, chemical cleaners, oil spills, garbage, excessive packaging. How my behaviors, emotions, reactions, words can influence those around me either for good or ill. A misunderstood phrase, a snatch of conversation taken out of context, a squint mistaken for a scowl, short temper, anxiety caused over-reactions. All the little minutiae of life that add up to who I am, what I do, how I am perceived.
Lately, as I ponder how I am often overconcerned at how my behavior affects those around me, I am stymied at how often others are completely unaware at just how much their actions affect those around them. So many people are willing to point fingers at the misbehavior of those in their life without pondering just how their own actions, words and deeds may have created or caused the behavior. They move through life oblivious, unconcerned. They cannot see the ripples, or just choose to ignore them. Cause and Effect. Action, Reaction.
We are influenced by the events around us, just as the events around us are influenced by our Actions and Reactions. Cause and Effect. I see this as a giant spider web; touch any part of the web and the vibration will be felt throughout, the spider reacts, deciding if it is food or threat, then acts accordingly. Flee or Feed.
I know how my actions can influence those around me. Whether it is just a smile and courtesy to the overworked gas station attendant, or a short tempered reaction to another inane question from an annoying telemarketer. I also know how my words and actions can affect those that I care about. And this is where caution must be taken. The closer you are to someone, the deeper your affect on them.
On the flip side of this, I am having to force myself to be less concerned at how my actions affect others, and instead focus on how my actions affect ME. Too many times in my life I have been untrue to myself, to my nature, to my very essence, all because I have been concerned with action and reaction. How I am perceived, how I am judged, how I measure up. Every time it has happened, I see what I have done, analyze my behavior, see the reasons behind my actions and vow to never do it again. And yet, I fall into the same pattern again. It is a self-sabotaging behavior. I know it for what it is. I can even see myself doing it again, and will justify it because I tell myself I am merely adjusting to a relationship, making a few compromises as we all must to make a relationship work, being easy-going, mellow. And to some degree, this is true. But I often find myself agreeing to things I don't want to do, modifying my behavior to fit an acceptable role.
Because of this, I feel like in the public eye I am often playing a role in life. Just a walk on actor, a stand in, a body double, the understudy. I know I do this because I feel as if I were to be completely myself, no holds barred, unguarded, that I would find myself even more an outcast than I already feel. I know all my friends would argue this, tell me they love me for who I am, would accept me no matter what. And of a few of them, I would believe this. I know my close family would love me no matter what, because that is what we do (just as I would love them, protect them and cherish them no matter what).
But to the world in general, only a fraction of me is for public viewing. The rest is shielded by caution. As for my relationships, sometimes I think that those I have been closest to may know me the least, for it is for them that I have altered myself the most. This is a tragedy.
As I read over these words, they are rambling and raw. Incoherence caused by fatigue, stress, and inner confusion. I am at an odd crossroads in my life. I am presented with paths that will alter the world as I know it, change my life completely and irrevocably. I have paths before me that must be taken despite the pain, anguish, stress, loneliness, discomfort and fear that are with me now and will be my companions for some time to come. It is because of choices I have made, am making and have yet to make that I am grappling with Cause and Effect. I know I need to be true to myself, find my own way, keep moving forward despite the ripples that spread out from every step I take. I am struggling to take complete ownership of my life, my fate, my destiny. I accept the consequences of my actions, and refuse to justify my reactions. I know I can do this by Myself, for Myself.
I will become the Immovable Object and the Unstoppable Force.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Year of Me
So much has happened in the last 6 weeks that I have neglected my writing for a few weeks. Not that I haven't thought of writing, actually sat down to write, typed out words time and time again. But then I have deleted them because of the stress, misery and negativity that was fueling every attempt. It has been a hard few weeks for me with most of my life in shambles, and me using all my strength to crawl up from the wreckage and managing to present a calm demeanor to the world. It hasn't been easy. When I'm alone the facade tends to crack and crumble, causing restless days, sleepless nights, mental and physical pain, and emotional anguish.
I'm sure you can see from the words already leaking onto the page my reasons for having deleted every blog written the last few weeks. Even when I attempt to move onward to positivity, the carnage of my personal life rears it's head to slather my words with the gore of battle. Yes, it was a hard fought battle, and one in which I imagine I was the victor. But really, in any battle with massive casualties is there really any winner? No. All participants lose. It was not a victory, so much as a triage. Triage to try and remove parts of me so damaged they cannot be salvaged. But there is the residual "Phantom Limb" pain. I know what I have lost, what is gone, missing, but the pain cannot be denied. The pain is oh so very real. And there is no effective means of numbing the pain, I can only try to ignore it.
But I digress into morose, stress, angst. Really, where I was going with this is that I do feel like I am gradually making my way back into the light. Getting myself on track. Pursuing personal goals that have been long sidelined, striving to make my life what I know it can be. I am facing a lot of hard work in the next year or two or ten, but I do not shy away from hard work. Through the long night I have managed to keep my Eyes on The Prize, as if it were the glowing nightlight at the end of a long, treacherous corridor. I am so close to my prize, a goal I have dreamed of for too many years. I know there are people out there who encouraged me, told me to not give up, but honestly I feel like it has been sheer tenacity that has finally led me this close to finally realizing a dream. Granted, there has been sacrifice, but every hard-won goal requires more than stamina, perseverence and planning, it also requires that pound of flesh. I have paid dearly over the years for dreams that were really only fantasies, so now to have a solid goal almost within my grasp is heady brew. A brew that is helping to rebuild my self-esteem and self-worth that were paid out in generous proportions with very little gain.
I feel like I am finally going to have the chance to replenish my coffers of personal energy and passions that have been so depleted these past few years. Depleted through my own reckless spending. I should know better, now do know better, and am striving to be more cautious with how and where I spend my energies and emotions. That isn't easy for someone with my Leap Before I Look nature. I tend to launch myself into my own ideas, plans, and schemes at a reckless, breakneck pace only to get yanked up by the short-hairs of reality. I like being able to get wildly excited, emotionally invested, and crazily ramped up over a plan/idea. The downside is the inevitable Crash and Burn of Real Life. But now, my focus can be on Me, My Life, My Plans, My Destiny. I can finally rush headlong towards dreams and goals with only my own personal limitations to be overcome. Like I said, it is a Heady Brew, this feeling of control over my own Destiny. A control that has been a long time coming, a hard won treasure, paid for with more than a pound of flesh. Yes, I expect it can and will be a difficult, lonely journey at times, but again, there is always a price to be paid.
I am coming into the Year of Me. Finally.
I'm sure you can see from the words already leaking onto the page my reasons for having deleted every blog written the last few weeks. Even when I attempt to move onward to positivity, the carnage of my personal life rears it's head to slather my words with the gore of battle. Yes, it was a hard fought battle, and one in which I imagine I was the victor. But really, in any battle with massive casualties is there really any winner? No. All participants lose. It was not a victory, so much as a triage. Triage to try and remove parts of me so damaged they cannot be salvaged. But there is the residual "Phantom Limb" pain. I know what I have lost, what is gone, missing, but the pain cannot be denied. The pain is oh so very real. And there is no effective means of numbing the pain, I can only try to ignore it.
But I digress into morose, stress, angst. Really, where I was going with this is that I do feel like I am gradually making my way back into the light. Getting myself on track. Pursuing personal goals that have been long sidelined, striving to make my life what I know it can be. I am facing a lot of hard work in the next year or two or ten, but I do not shy away from hard work. Through the long night I have managed to keep my Eyes on The Prize, as if it were the glowing nightlight at the end of a long, treacherous corridor. I am so close to my prize, a goal I have dreamed of for too many years. I know there are people out there who encouraged me, told me to not give up, but honestly I feel like it has been sheer tenacity that has finally led me this close to finally realizing a dream. Granted, there has been sacrifice, but every hard-won goal requires more than stamina, perseverence and planning, it also requires that pound of flesh. I have paid dearly over the years for dreams that were really only fantasies, so now to have a solid goal almost within my grasp is heady brew. A brew that is helping to rebuild my self-esteem and self-worth that were paid out in generous proportions with very little gain.
I feel like I am finally going to have the chance to replenish my coffers of personal energy and passions that have been so depleted these past few years. Depleted through my own reckless spending. I should know better, now do know better, and am striving to be more cautious with how and where I spend my energies and emotions. That isn't easy for someone with my Leap Before I Look nature. I tend to launch myself into my own ideas, plans, and schemes at a reckless, breakneck pace only to get yanked up by the short-hairs of reality. I like being able to get wildly excited, emotionally invested, and crazily ramped up over a plan/idea. The downside is the inevitable Crash and Burn of Real Life. But now, my focus can be on Me, My Life, My Plans, My Destiny. I can finally rush headlong towards dreams and goals with only my own personal limitations to be overcome. Like I said, it is a Heady Brew, this feeling of control over my own Destiny. A control that has been a long time coming, a hard won treasure, paid for with more than a pound of flesh. Yes, I expect it can and will be a difficult, lonely journey at times, but again, there is always a price to be paid.
I am coming into the Year of Me. Finally.
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