Category: Being Present

It’s A Wonderful Life

It’s been a really great day for me, so I thought I would share a bits from this day in my life.

And the award goes to....Luke!

The day started with us taking the boys to school before we headed out for our family trip. The impetus for stopping by school was a surprise for Luke. I’ve known for a few days now that Luke was selected as Student of the Month at Hope Christian Academy. This is a big deal because I know Luke has been working really hard. He didn’t expect it, but I knew the surprise would mean the world to him. When the principal slowly narrowed the winner down…a boy…in second grade…his name is Luke…I could see him about to burst. And, when she asked Luke to come up to the front of the room, he ran up the aisle like a crazy contestant on The Price Is Right. We were pleased that he was good enough to hug her and say thank you. On his way back to our seats, he was passing out high fives to other students. It was the cutest. Luke rode home with the plaque in his lap, telling us where he would like us to mount it to the wall in his room. Sometimes, it’s the smallest things that make the biggest difference to people. When we got home Luke told us, “This has been the best way to start a weekend.” I had to agree.

Mike...we salute your plucky determination

We finally got on the road for our trip around 10:30, several hours after I had hoped we would leave. Still, it was vacation so we were going to act that way. Schedules be damned. We’d get to Moab eventually. We cruised west on I-70, stopping briefly to picnic in Eagle before heading to Fruita where Steve had heard of a coffee store we had to visit. (Personal note: No matter where we go, there is always a local coffee shop we have to visit. We’re doing it to protect the American Dream by buying from independent coffee shops as much as we’re doing it to satisfy our caffeine addictions. Or so we tell ourselves.) We get to Aspen Street Coffee and, lo and behold, there in front of the store is a sculpture of Mike the Headless Chicken. How cool is that? Mike, the story goes, was a rooster whose head was severed by a farmer in 1945 and yet he still survived for 18 months after his decapitation. Mike is a legend. There is a festival in his honor each year in Fruita, a town on the western slope of Colorado known for its agriculture, its mountain biking, and one bad-ass headless chicken.

Sunset hike...check.

We did finally get to Utah. As we drove down the scenic byway toward Moab, Joe waxed rhapsodic about how he felt at home here. The kid was seriously ready to pack his bags and move in along the banks of the Colorado River among the towering red rocks. We told him we’d have to think about it. We decided that a sunset hike to Delicate Arch would be an awesome way to cap off our day, so we headed into Arches National Park at 6:45 p.m. It’s a “strenuous” 1.5 mile hike from the parking lot to the arch, so we hauled it to make sure we’d catch the 8:06 sunset. The boys, who are unbelievable hikers, ran ahead as I tried valiantly to keep up, glad I had started taking those antibiotics yesterday. I hadn’t seen Delicate Arch since a trip with an ex-boyfriend in the summer of 1991. That was another lifetime ago when I was a different person. Today, the weather was a perfect 60 degrees, the sky was flawless, and we arrived at the arch at 7:40 to view the sunset. We sat there with a crowd of photographers and watched the sunset light up the arch. It just doesn’t get better than that.

Some days, you’re given the opportunity to remember how wonderful life is. Today was one of those days. I’m the luckiest gal in the world.

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The Kind Of Reminder I Hate

Clouds and balloons over Boulder

“Dream as if you’ll live forever; live as if you’ll die today.” ~ James Dean

This past weekend I hosted a bridal shower for my sister. One of my sister’s long-time friends from UNC was there. Her friend told me when she called to RSVP that she was tentatively offering a “yes” response because she needed to have back surgery a couple days after the shower to improve a nerve situation that was causing one entire leg to be numb all the way down through her foot. She has had difficulty walking because she is basically dragging her unwilling limb around. She wasn’t sure if she’d feel up to a party. Knowing this gal and her upbeat, fun-loving way, I knew she would find a way to make an appearance for my sister, and she did. She’s that kind of person. At the shower, she had everyone laughing about the time she dressed as Androgynous Pat from Saturday Night Live for Halloween and nearly got kicked out of a bar for using the men’s restroom. She kept telling the bouncer, “I’m a person.”

Today was the day  she was scheduled for surgery and, as they were preparing, she was answering some basic questions. During the course of the Q&A, she mentioned a few things that troubled the surgeon. The doctors did a brain scan and found a tumor the size of a fist. And, in a matter of seconds, she went from having back surgery (which is scary enough) to having a life-threatening tumor.

I’ve been thinking about this news all morning long. I try to remind myself daily that life is fragile and tenuous. This is part of the reason I’ve been diligently working to focus on the here and now because I don’t know what the future holds. The only joy I can be sure to find resides in this moment. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. The present is all we have and in a few minutes even that will be our past. I wish it didn’t take bad news to remind me so viscerally of this truth.

I’m holding out hope for my sister’s friend. She beat leukemia when she was 16. If anyone can pour all their positive energy into dealing with a negative situation, she is the one. I’m going to send her all the positivity I can muster as well. Maybe if a whole lot of us do that, it will lift her up and over this tumor situation. While we’re willing that to happen, I know she will be a constant reminder of how important it is to live now. She’ll have us laughing as we do it too.

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I Am A Dirty Girl

A columbine that has a new home in our yard.

Gardening is about as interesting as watching golf (which is akin to watching paint dry), which is why, I suppose, that I ended up with a half of a whiskey barrel “planter” buried in our backyard for nearly a year. I greatly disdain any sort of yard work. It’s tedious. It’s messy. It involves bugs. And, in the end, stuff you plant and pour hours of time into will just wither and leave you with a stark, white landscape in winter anyway. Bah humbug.

A thought occurred to me recently. Perhaps hubby planted that barrel in the yard to persuade me he should not be trusted with the landscaping. There are two ways to get a woman to do anything: 1) to do it the wrong way or 2) to make her think it’s what she really wants. Steve must be a genius because with that horrific barrel he convinced me that he is incapable of making wise decisions in the yard when left to his own devices and he somehow got me outside willingly working in the yard without him. Check hell because it might have frozen over.

Yesterday, I moved rock so I could find the spots where a drip system is already in place for planting. With a little investment of my time, I found five such spots. Today I drove to a locally owned nursery to begin the correction process. I perused the aisles of plants and selected ones that seemed right for their new homes. With soil, new plants, and garden gloves in hand, this afternoon I started the arduous task of giving our yard a face lift. Somewhat miraculously, I enjoyed it. I even purposely picked up a couple worms (with gloves on because they are still gross) and examined them carefully, just to prove I could do it.  I think I might understand now what people see in gardening as a hobby. There is something peaceful there. It is slow, methodical, quiet, and life-affirming. In our backyard with the meadowlark’s song trilling through the air and the smell of the grass becoming green, I was able to live in the present for a few, very zen moments. And, when it was all done, I was able to step back, see what I had accomplished, and feel truly good about giving something back to the earth in my own miniscule way.

It’s highly unlikely that today’s experience will foster a new hobby for me. I am perfectly well aware that the dreaded wolf spider makes its home in our yard, and that is enough to keep me from digging around too much. But at least my attempt at gardening taught me that on occasion it’s good to get outside and get my hands (or at least my gloves) messy. I guess I’m something of a dirty girl after all.

“I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.” ~Gerry Spence

 

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Catnap Capable

Another gorgeous Colorado sunset

“Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.”  ~ Ovid

I did something today that I very rarely do. Exhausted after a late night of fun with my sister and her friends, and with all three of my boys gone to an orienteering class with the Cub Scouts, I stretched out on a sunny spot on the sofa and drifted off to sleep. It’s not in my nature to nap. Actually, it’s not in my nature to sit still. I honestly have to work at relaxing. I’m a busy person, and I like it that way. When I’m moving, I get things done and I burn calories. I accomplish things and clear them off my to-do list and that brings me some level of peace and comfort. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I forget sometimes, though, that as good as it is for a body to be active, it’s every bit as important for it to rest. Part of my plan for the New Year was to work on being still. So, today I allowed myself 20 minutes of stillness in the middle of an otherwise packed day. In between cleaning the kitchen and planting flowers, I…the catnap challenged…became catnap capable. I discovered that 20 minutes of inactivity are enough to bring my internal battery up from 50% charge to 95% charge.

I don’t foresee this becoming a regular habit for me because I do love to cross things off my to-do list and I have two overly active boys who need me, but it’s good to know that when I need a short respite my mind is willing to allow it if I take the time simply to be still for a few moments. Now, if I could just get my boys back to the days when they took afternoon naps, if I could remind them that they too are catnip capable, that would be life changing.

 

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Digging Deep

Oh...I really had to dig deep this morning.

“You’ve got to get up every morning with determination if you’re going to go to bed with satisfaction.”             ~George Lorimer

I’ve had this rotten cold sucking the life out of me for days now. Most people hate to be sick. I know this. But, I think my hatred of being sick goes beyond that of a “normal” person’s hatred of being sick. When I feel a cold coming on, I immediately give my body a good talking to. Oh no you don’t. You are not going to get sick. You’re not. End of story. This, of course, does not work. My body does not care what I have to say. If it listened to anything I had to say, I wouldn’t have stopped growing until I was 5’9″ tall, 135 pounds, and 34C. Did. Not. Happen.

Once I succumb to illness, I go to my back up plan. Realizing that my body is not listening to me, I serve a mandatory eviction notice to the cold itself. It has just seven days to reside here. No grace period. I figure I’m being fairly generous to those foreign invaders. They have two days to set up shop and get me good and sick, two days for debauchery and mayhem, and three days to pack themselves up, clean up their mess, and get out.

In preparation for the MS150 in June, I’ve spent the past 6 weeks getting myself back into a steady cardio workout routine after a winter of doing not much. It takes a while to build the habit of working out six days a week without fail, so the arrival of this wretched cold this week was certain to derail all my hard work. Colds have always managed to mess my training up. Why? Because a cold offers me an excuse to be lazy and rest. I am free to sit on the couch watching my favorite show du jour (currently that means back episodes of Friday Night Lights because I have a massive crush on Tim Riggins). I knew I would have to dig deep this week to stay on track. I mean center of the earth deep. But, I did it. 15 miles on the trainer on Tuesday, an hour of hot yoga on Wednesday, 13 miles on the trainer yesterday, and today I somehow managed to get myself to Red Rocks to climb stairs. And, you know what? I did climb stairs. I worked it out. It took me longer than usual, but I completed my usual circuit of stair climbing there. I powered through.

I’m proud of myself. This week, for the first time ever, I fought the urge to use my cold as a free pass out of exercise. As the cold germs partied on while I was exercising, I put my fingers in my ears and sang “lalalalalalalalalala” to block out its ruckus. They may have taken temporary possession my body, but my determination ensured I won the war for my soul. I feel pretty good about that. And, I truly believe this cold will be 100% gone in three days now. It knows I mean business.

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Powering Off

My boys enjoying a peaceful morning with hot beverages.

A little after 4 this morning, I heard the tell-tale click of the air pump on our Select Comfort bed shutting off. That usually means an interruption in the power. In our ten years in this house, our power has rarely gone out. Occasionally, it flickers off and then on again within a matter of seconds. So, I waited. A few seconds later I raised my sleepy head and opened one eye to glance at the alarm clock across the room for verification. Yep. No light in the room whatsoever. We were without power. I told hubby, set my iPhone for his 5:10 alarm and then my 6:45 alarm, and fell back asleep.

At 6:40 the kids burst into our room to announce the exciting news that we were without power, just in case I was unaware. I was not. I’d heard hubby fumbling around in pitch black getting ready for work at 5:30. I wondered briefly if he’d managed to walk out of here wearing clothes that matched, then told my children who were all a-twitter that it was no big deal. I shuffled them into the shower and made a mental note of all the things I would not be doing this morning…making my usual latte, listening to Phineas and Ferb on the television, drying my hair, using the garage door opener.

When we arrived downstairs, the house was cold. I had Luke flip on the gas fireplace. Ooooh….it’s like camping, they said. The joy wore off when Joe realized that his Eggo waffles would remain frozen this morning. I suggested cereal and told them I would make some hot chocolate. They looked at me like I was crazy. How could I use the stove when there was no power? I walked over, flipped on the gas, and lit the burner by hand. You would have thought I had invented fire. They were in the presence of pure genius. When I lifted the garage door, I might as well have been Hercules. I couldn’t decide if I was happy that my kids finally understood how much I am capable of or I was depressed that apparently under normal circumstances they barely think I’m capable of a thing.

I feel sorry for my kids. They’ve had it so easy for so long that they have no clue what they could live without if they had to. Based on their utter amazement that life was even possible without electronics this morning, I made a unilateral decision. This Friday night we’re unplugging for an entire evening. Starting at 5 p.m., there will be no television, computers, iPads, iPhones, lights, appliances, Nintendo games, iPods, nothing with an on/off switch for any of us. We’re going to spend the evening playing cards or games, reading books by candlelight, and just spending time together without distractions. I envision one of two things happening during this grand experiment: 1) someone will have to be restrained to control their gadget-withdrawal-trembling hands or 2) we will have bored each other to sleep by 8:30. I sure hope it’s the latter because I could really use a good night’s sleep.

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The Dream Police

The end of an era

“Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go.” ~Hermann Hesse

Last night I had a bad dream. I hesitate to call it a nightmare because, although it did wake me up and stay with me all day, it wasn’t the most horrific dream I’ve ever had. In my dream, I was in a very crowded mall with my sons. My youngest needed to go to the bathroom. So, we walked down the mall together to the bathroom where I asked his brother to take him in while I waited outside. This is the usual routine. While I was within viewing distance of the restroom where my boys were, I kept on shopping around. After what seemed like a while, I noticed Joe standing outside the restroom door alone playing games on his iPhone. I asked him where his brother was. He told me he’d left him inside. I sent Joe back in to get Luke and that was when we realized he was missing. I felt immediate and intense panic. I am not a worrier, but I was worried. I knew something was wrong. The rest of the dream was a blur of running around, calling Luke’s name, asking people if they had seen him, and wondering how I could have been so stupid to leave him in his brother’s care when the mall was overly crowded.

I’m not ashamed to admit that the dream shook me. When Luke came into my room a few minutes after I had awoken, I called him over and gave him a huge hug. I was near tears. The feelings from my dream were still palpable. I was angry at myself for letting him go. I held onto him this morning until he began to writhe from my grasp.

I thought a lot today about that dream. Because I’m not a worrier and I haven’t thought twice about letting the boys go alone into the men’s room since they were roughly 7 and 5, I know that the dream was not about stranger danger. It was my way of working through the fact that my baby is gone. He’s almost 9. I know it’s foolish to be sad about this thing that I cannot change (nor would I want to because I am truly excited to see where life takes my ambitious, creative, and determined son), but it’s painfully clear that I am sad. Maybe I haven’t wanted to admit it, but apparently while my conscious mind is telling me that denial really is just a river in Egypt my subconscious is trying to help me resolve my issues…against my will, whether I like it or not.

I know that my mind wants me to wake up and appreciate my present with my boys before it becomes my past with my boys. It’s reminding me to make the most of this moment because this moment is the only one I’m guaranteed. Sometimes, though, I wish the dream police would pull out the billy club and beat my subconscious back into a state of quiet submission so I could enjoy a few more moments in LaLa Land, where my boys are not moving away from me faster than the speed of light. Watching your children grow up is tough, but what makes it tougher is knowing that as they’re getting older you are too.

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Chicken Little Syndrome

There is smoke in the air, but the sky hasn't started falling yet.

After an extremely dry March, usually Denver’s snowiest month, wildfire season appears to be officially underway. The Lower North Fork Fire has burned 4500 acres so far. From my backyard last night, I have to admit that the smoke, fanned by strong winds from the southwest, looked ominous. I took photos of it and then sat back down to watch my recorded episode of Mad Men. We slept with the windows closed last night because of the heavy smoke, but this is not the first time we’ve had to do this so it was not unusual. We slept soundly.

This morning I was pleased to note that the winds were no longer blowing the smoke in our direction, which meant my boys who are home for spring break could go out and play with friends without smoke inhalation concerns. Around noon, we went for a 4-mile hike with friends up Waterton Canyon. We saw about 35 mountain sheep and had a picnic lunch. There was the faintest scent of smoke in the air, but nothing about which to be alarmed. Tonight when I finally had a moment to hop back on Facebook, I could not believe the amount of chatter about the fire. We live 5 miles outside the evacuation zone, but from the hefty number of posts our neighborhood Facebook page received today you would think that we were in immediate danger of Armageddon.

A resident who also happens to be a firefighter tried to quell the rampant concerns. Posts flew back and forth with links to maps of the fire evacuation area and sites where you can register your cell phone for reverse 911 emergency notification. Now, I’m all for safety and for being informed of potential danger. I will admit that hubby and I have twice now discussed what I am to throw in the car if we receive an evacuation notice. We have not, however, set anything aside for immediate packing. In fact, I’m fairly certain that if I took any precautions whatsoever that would be the surest way to guarantee that an evacuation notice would never be issued for our quaint suburban oasis. If I pack it, it will not come.

I’m befuddled by the drama and chaos that ensues in these type of situations. I don’t understand why people would choose to worry about this. If the fire decides to head this way, there will be nothing that worrying will be able to do to stop it. If we are asked to evacuate, there is nothing that worrying will do to spare our homes from the fire. Unless there is some sort of camaraderie and sense of community to be gained from it, I can’t understand what could possibly make this situation worth wasting precious moments of my present on. I’m not entirely sure what encourages people into Chicken Little’s “the sky is falling” mentality. My experience has been that worry is a waste of emotion.

I have deep sympathy for the people who have already lost homes, pets, and even family members because of this fast-moving, highly dangerous fire. I can’t imagine what the people in the fire’s path have already had to endure or how difficult it will be to pick up and rebuild after losing everything. Their suffering is real, and my fingers are crossed that the fire will be contained quickly. Still, I refuse to live in fear or to spend my day discussing other people’s misery. Rather than obsessing about what might happen, I’m going to turn off my laptop tomorrow and spend my boys’ spring break going to the movies and playing games with them. What might happen is not nearly as important as what will happen if I focus on the precious present moments I have with my boys this week.

 

 

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Jockeying For A Better View

Cloudy and cool is better than windy and snowy any day.

“To live happily is an inward power of the soul.” ~Marcus Aurelius

I found this quote today and it really got to me. There are too many times when I find my happiness tangled up in things outside my control. Other people in my life seem to struggle with this too. They will become upset with me because I did not react the way they wanted me to. In those situations, I tell myself that they are crazy for pinning their happiness on me and whether or not I disappoint them. What I fail to see in those moments of criticizing others for their bad attitude is how frequently I employ that ridiculously self-defeating thought process myself.

For the past two weeks I have been working to retrain myself or at least to gain back some of the control over happiness in my life. When my attitude goes downhill, I stop to look at the situation again for a positive. If I can’t find one in that particular situation, then I go outside of it and look at my life as a whole because I know that on the whole my life has more reasons to be grateful than to be grumpy. This morning we’d planned to go on a long ride with friends because the weather was supposed to be perfect…unseasonably warm and sunny. At 8:30 a.m., however, as we were getting ready to leave it was still 43 degrees outside and overcast. I hate to ride in the cold and was annoyed about the change in the forecast. Exactly who told Mother Nature she could screw with my weather for ride day? Instead of being cranky about it, though, I decided that even without perfect weather there were plenty of reasons to be happy about this ride: great people to ride with, the freedom to leave our kids for a few hours and get out, the beautiful lack of snow, health that allows me to ride 36 miles without pain, and the fitness to get up a short but steep 10% incline without much suffering.

It’s easy to be negative. The world around us provides ample amounts of bad news. It takes real determination to be happy and to live with gratitude. Happiness is always a choice. If things don’t look right to me from one point of view, I jockey myself around until things look a little better. Sometimes all you need for a an attitude adjustment is a little wiggle room.

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Every Life Comes With A Death Sentence

Netflix is my best friend. It is.

About six weeks ago I started watching the AMC show Breaking Bad on Netflix. I did so on the recommendation of my college roommate, Michelle, who told me that if I like Mad Men I would probably like this as well. I didn’t know much about the show before her recommendation, other than the fact that its lead actor, Bryan Cranston, has won three consecutive Emmy Awards for his part in this show that very few people seem to know about. So, about the time I decided to get on my bike trainer again, I decided to check it out. I need something to watch while I’m stuck on the bike indoors. The show has gotten me through 250 miles so far. I am impressed.

If you’re like most people I know who have not heard of the show, let me fill you in. The lead character, Walter White, is diagnosed with lung cancer and receives an unfavorable prognosis. He is a high school chemistry teacher who also works part-time at a car wash to support his family. He realizes that he’s running out of time and he has nothing to leave to his family, which includes a pregnant wife and a teenage son with cerebral palsy. Through a series of convoluted circumstances, it occurs to him that as a chemist he could make a boat load of cash quickly by manufacturing methamphetamine. I know. It’s a crazy premise for a show, but that’s what makes it so interesting. Walt’s transformation from mousy cancer victim to drug criminal is profound.

The episode I watched yesterday while on the bike trainer showed Walt at yet another doctor’s appointment awaiting a scan. In the waiting room, a newly diagnosed cancer patient strikes up a conversation with him.

“It’s like they say. You make plans and God laughs,” the guy tells Walt.

“That is such bullshit,” Walt replies. “Never give up control. Live life on your own terms.”

How easily we all give up when an impediment blocks our way.  Oh well. I guess I’m supposed to do this now. What else can I do? I’m sure in the face of a cancer diagnosis, the first reaction is to feel bad about the hand we’ve been dealt. The man is saying as much to Walt. Cancer is cancer. What are you going to do? Blah, blah, blah. Then, Walt says this:

“To hell with your cancer. I’ve been living with cancer for the better part of a year. Right from the start it’s a death sentence. That’s what they keep telling me. Well, guess what? Every life comes with a death sentence…but until then I’m in charge. That’s how I live my life.”

Wow. I had to stop the show, back it up, and watch that part again. It was brilliant. It’s got shades of The Shawshank Redemption‘s “Get busy living or get busy dying” in it but it’s definitely a more in-your-face message. Every life comes with a death sentence…but until then I’m in charge. Walt’s cancer wasn’t a death sentence for him but a life sentence. He’d been going along in his daily routine not thinking a thing about it, not truly being present in his life, until the cancer gave him a wake-up call he desperately needed. When you stop to confront your death, you might see your life differently. The cancer took Walt out of his comfortable life. He became less fearful. After all, what did he have to lose?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Walt’s little speech. It’s good to be reminded that we’re only here a short time. We’re not in charge of everything that happens in our lives, but we are in charge of how we react to it. We won’t live forever, but we can live on our own terms.

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