Category: Finding Peace

Head of the Vole Parole Board

Me and my catch of the day.

The boys were playing nicely in the basement with a couple of their friends, battling each other on the Skylanders Wii game. I was enjoying a few chaos-free moments alone. Suddenly, I heard Luke’s footsteps running up the stairs. You can always tell Luke’s steps because the kid hasn’t walked a day in his life. His first steps were at a run. I do not joke. I knew my peace and quiet were short-lived.

“Mom…you gotta come quick,” he panted, out of breath from his breakneck speed of life.

“Why?” I responded. I wasn’t ready to give up my stillness for just any old reason.

“There’s a mouse,” Luke replied.

That got my attention. In the ten years we’ve lived here, we’ve had no evidence of mice or voles in our actual domicile. I know many people in our neighborhood who’ve had rodent issues, but we haven’t. (Yes. I am knocking on wood right now.) I assume we’ve had no indoor rodent encounters because our dogs, left outside most of the time during the warm months, scare them off or…in the case of our last dog, Buddy…catch and eat them.

“A live mouse?”

“Yes. In the basement.”

“In the storage room?” I wondered out loud.

“No. Come quick. I’ll show you.”

Before I go any further, I must tell you that I am fairly rodent friendly. I’m not afraid of them. I’ve set a few traps in the garage when in winter I’ve noticed they’ve moved in, but for the most part the furry little critters and I exist somewhat well on a strict “if-I-don’t-see-you-then-you’re-not-a-problem” policy.

I got downstairs and could tell all four boys were staring out the window into the window well where, indeed, a fat, brown vole was hunkered down near the base of the corrugated metal that surrounds the area. I breathed a sigh of relief that I would not be setting traps indoors. A vole, for those of you who have not encountered one, is a field mouse with a short, stubby tail, partially hidden ears, and a stout body. Several times a year, a hapless, sight-impaired vole falls into one of our window wells. Most survive the fall. Some do not. Either way, it’s my job as Chief Rodent Officer to remove them.

I kicked off my flip-flops, put on closed-toe shoes, and grabbed my work gloves. I lifted the window well grate and climbed down the ladder five feet into the well. The little vole was trying desperately to appear invisible. Alas. He was not. I caught him on my first try but when I opened the gloves a fraction to show the boys that I had him, he slipped the noose and jumped behind me. I swung around and chased him back to where he was originally and recaptured him. I grasped him tightly in my hands so he would not escape this time and held him up to show hubby. Examining him carefully, I realized with amusement that he had his mouth wrapped around the thumb of my glove, presumably hoping to inflict pain on his captor. Silly mouse. Still, I felt for the little bugger so I made sure the dog was out of range and then I released him onto the river rock in our backyard. He promptly scampered under a nearby bush.

The voles, the dog, and I have a weird relationship that reminds me of the criminal justice system. Ruby, our border collie, is the law. Like border patrol, she chases the voles who are illegals in her jurisdiction. The voles, running from the law, careen in the direction of the house and fall into the window well. After time served in solitary, the parole board (aka me) releases them on their promise that they are rehabilitated and will not return. I like to imagine they run off with plans to at last escape the system and live on in peace. Yet, this cycle persists. Perhaps the voles, like many criminals, have become enmeshed in the system and feel comfortable there, which is why rather than leaving when they are freed they rush right back into familiar territory? Perhaps this explains their recidivism rate? Maybe there’s some sort of vole gang dynamics whereby they taunt each other into drawing the dog out in some sort of hazing ritual? I’m not sure. The only thing I know is that as long as a live vole is in my window well, I will forgive him his crime and set him free. I believe in second chances, even if Ruby does not.

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Let It Be

This is, for me, one of the faces of inner peace.

“We are not animals. We are not a product of what has happened to us in our past. We have the power of choice.”  ~Stephen Covey

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on what a shame it is when people can’t bring themselves to let go of unpleasantness in their past. Often, those memories from yesterday prevent them from enjoying a more productive and healthy present. I know people who are living daily with the negative reverberations of actions that happened decades ago. When I think about the brief time we have on this planet, I can’t fathom why anyone would willingly choose to waste a second of life stuck on past slights. Perhaps these people fail to grasp the downward, miserable spiral that is perpetuated when you let your past seep into your present? When you spend today reliving the pain of your past, you’re merely making today into a continuation of the very thing that is vexing you, which then means that your future will reflect more of the same misery, disappointment, and pain. Why would anyone make that choice?

Then it occurred to me…these people don’t realize they have a choice. They are so cut off and unaware of their response to their world, so convinced that all that is wrong in their life is the direct result of other people’s actions and not their own thoughts and behavior, that they are unable to comprehend the power they have to change their lives. Of all the human conditions, the lack of awareness regarding personal power is the saddest one I can imagine. Some people spend dozens of years convinced that their entire unhappy life is the result of what has happened to them. There is no acknowledgment that the only power we have in this life is over our reactions to the situations we encounter. The easiest way to perpetuate personal misery is to believe you are a victim, to live from that paradigm, and to refuse steadfastly to move beyond it. Indeed, some unfortunate things will befall you, but you choose whether those heartbreaks will break you or whether you will move forward unabated.

A while back I read A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. It was a life-changing book for me because it pointed out truths I long knew in my heart but was refusing to acknowledge in my mind. One of the most powerful messages I got from the book came from a quote by J. Krishnamurti, and Indian philosopher and spiritual teacher, who offered up his secret for contentment. He stated simply this: “I don’t mind what happens.” How powerful that statement is. When you don’t mind what happens, when you let it wash over you and accept it for what it is, when you remove your emotion from it, there is stillness and peace and the room to let it go. It certainly is not easy achieve, but it’s worth the effort to keep it in mind.

I wish I could impart to those people in my life who can’t let go of the past the beauty of not minding what happens. Of acknowledging it, accepting it, and not owning it as anything more than another event in a hopefully long life. When I was a child, my mother and father owned The Beatles’ Let It Be album. I played that record (yes…record) until I thought I would wear it out. The lyrics from the title track have stuck with me. And when my children were infants and I would rock them in the middle of the night when they could not sleep and needed comfort, those are the words I would sing because they brought me peace in that moment when I was exhausted and too was seeking rest. So, as you go through the remainder of this week, my hope is that at least once you will stop reacting when something unexpected and unwelcome is happening and let it wash over you and see what peace comes from letting it be and not minding what happens. I promise to try it if you will too.

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Life In My Turtle Shell

“Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.”              ~Siddhartha Gautama

I don’t understand people. I really don’t. For a while, trying to puzzle them out was a source of some amusement for my overactive mind. But, the more I started to figure them out, the more cynical I became about them and the less interesting they became to me. Nowadays, I go out of my way not to become involved with trying to understand them or wondering about them at all. I prefer to remain ignorant because the truth about them is, more often than not, more than I can bear. True story.

A friend asked me tonight about our HOA. The vast majority of homes in Denver are in neighborhoods controlled by Homeowner’s Associations. While I understand the purpose of them and why they can be helpful, I also know they can be an incredibly expensive nuisance. We have a Facebook page for our HOA, and I’m able to access conversations between folks in our neighborhood. I used to receive updates when people posted there, but I had to opt of that because I was getting depressed reading the commentary. The pettiness, whining, and finger pointing, while perhaps amusing to some, became abhorrent to me. I swear I lost IQ points reading some of the conversations there.

I had to go back onto our HOA page tonight to look up something for a friend, and I was immediately reminded of why I stopped visiting that page. I used to volunteer in our neighborhood. Yes. Volunteer. As in work for free. I did this on both the Communications Committee (ie…newsletter) and the Social Committee (think Easter Egg Hunt for the kiddos). After three years of volunteering and working for free for my neighbors, I finally reached my tolerance level and quit. The people drove me crazy.

Perhaps that is partially the reason I’ve become something of an isolationist. I prefer to live in my own little world. I hardly watch the news (preferring, instead, to read it from different sources) because I can’t stand the sensationalism. I stopped following politics because it seemed to be the same story with different faces. And, now I’ve stopped paying attention within the confines of our neighborhood because I despise the conversations. In my case, ignorance truly is bliss. I’m a much happier person when I don’t think about the things that I see are wrong with the world. If I focus instead on myself and my family and making our small space better, my attitude improves greatly.

Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for unplugging and for not being more involved with things around me. I’m a smart woman, and it’s honestly sad that I would prefer to remain ignorant to maintain a positive attitude and a sense of peace about my surroundings. Still, part of finding zen is understanding which things to let go and which things never to take on in the first place. If peace comes from within, then I might be on the right track.

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The Hitch

My sister did not want me posting any wedding photos to my Facebook page, so you get to settle for a photo of their wedding rings instead.

My sister, Kathy, became Mrs. Smith today. This morning we were all rushing around before the ceremony and Kathy, being a typical nervous bride, was stressing over every last detail. Were the place cards set out? Were they playing music for the guests? Were the favors for the guests at each place setting? Frankly, she was starting to stress me out with all the minute instructions, worries, and questions.

Hubby and I will celebrate our seventeenth wedding anniversary in about two months. It’s hard to fathom that we’ve been married that long because it has truly gone by in a blink. One thing that nearly seventeen years has taught us, though, is that while it’s pretty much second nature to get bunged up by little things, it’s not worth the energy. This is not to say that we don’t occasionally sweat the small stuff (because we do) but we’re much better about letting things go more quickly than we used to. Maybe it’s because we’ve figured out that in the end things usually seem to work themselves out, leaving behind a slightly more interesting story than we had planned on having. Maybe it’s because marriage has taught us that life is messy when multiple people are involved. Or, maybe it’s because seventeen years have passed and now we’re too old and tired to summon the energy to stress.

This morning, as Kathy was worrying about the fine details, I reminded her that the purpose of a wedding day is to end the day married. So, if at the end of the day she found herself married to Chris, then everything would be just as it should be. It doesn’t matter if the chocolate wedding favors melted in the 95 degree heat or if the sand ceremony was nearly thwarted by a broken glass container. Vows were spoken, rings were exchanged, and a husband and wife pronouncement was made. Kathy and Chris are married. I have a new brother-in-law, the kids have a new uncle, and Steve finally has another man in the family to help balance out the abundance of estrogen. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. The day went off with only one real hitch, and it was the one we all showed up for in the first place.

 

 

 

 

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Stormy Weather Ain’t All Bad….Except For The Hail And That Kind Of Sucks

Best kind of light show

Went to dinner with my buddy, Heather, tonight in honor of her birthday tomorrow. She’ll be 25ish. Anyway, as we were sitting at dinner we were discussing how summer in Colorado is the greatest thing ever. It really is. I know other people think their locale has the best summers, but they’re wrong. Colorado is incredibly beautiful year round but during our summers, which are normally warm and dry, we get the most amazing storms.

As if on command, the Universe summoned for our separate drives home an astounding light display. It was non-stop cloud lightning with the occasional cloud-t0-ground strike. Unbelievable. It was so constant that despite the darkness after 10 p.m. I was able to get several photos with my iPhone.

All I can think when I see storms like this is how awesome life is on this planet. The good. The bad. The ugly. All of it. Life on this planet is powerful and interesting. I feel badly for the people who miss that truth, who don’t take the time to stop and appreciate and marvel at it. Life is a gift. Any amount of time we’re allowed to exist here is a blessing. When you feel like things in your life are too much, sit and watch a storm and remember how small you are. And, instead of being depressed by that knowledge, revel in it because it’s freeing. No matter how big your troubles seem, they are insignificant in the grand scheme of life on earth. Just like the storm, they will pass.

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Surrender Isn’t Always A Bad Thing

Heading up Mesa Trail near Boulder

“Yielding means inner acceptance of what is. You are open to life. When you yield internally, when you surrender, a new dimension of consciousness opens up.”        ~ Eckhart Tolle

Yesterday, Steve and I decided it would be a great day for a family hike. So, we loaded up the car and headed up to Boulder. I found a 4+ mile hike just outside of Boulder near Eldorado Canyon on Trails.com that looked promising, so we went for it. Because we got a late start on the day, it was already 82 degrees when we pulled into the South Mesa Trail parking lot around noon. I knew the boys would whine about the heat, but we were there and Steve and I were bound and determined to get the exercise.

The boys, usually quite able bodied and semi-amenable to hiking, were in rare form from the start. Joe had consumed so much water on the drive up that he was wanting to mark his territory every half mile. Luke, a kid who hates to be either too hot or too cold, was moving slowly and in a constant state of whine about how sweaty he was. Being not the world’s most sympathetic person (understatement), I told them that if they’d stop using so much energy to complain they’d have more energy to hike faster and finish sooner. True story.

The first mile was a bit rough as the boys complained and dragged their feet, hoping we would suspend the exercise. We were annoyed but persisted in our determination to complete the hike. During the entire second mile, I was fairly certain my husband (who is one of the most patient people I have ever known) would eventually strangle Luke, who could not seem to tamp down his whining. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about children, it’s that they’re like animals; they can smell hesitancy and fear and will use your weakness against you. Luke was working it.

As Luke whimpered and cried foul, Steve went from grimacing about it to full on bitching at him while I went to my happy place. I’m not sure what it is about Boulder that makes me so dang happy, but I’m at peace there. As the war between Luke and his father began to escalate, I became increasingly calm. I took turns talking to both of them, positioning myself in between them as a buffer, and trying to resolve the situation with a positive attitude. The more they bickered, the less I seemed to care. I was able to focus on the beauty of the landscape, the pine scent rising from the trees, the cool breeze on my sun-warmed skin, and the joy of being somewhere that I love to be with the people who mean the most surrounding me. I escaped from the negativity of the situation by focusing on what I loved rather than on what I disliked. It was very zen of me, I thought.

As we got into the third mile, we hit the forest and Luke was shaded enough to stop whining a bit. Joe had at last peed himself out. Steve had nothing left to feel frustrated about. The hike became what I envisioned it would be, a fun little walk with my family somewhere new. I’m not sure if it was my attitude that diffused the negativity or the negativity that changed my own attitude, but something made the whole experience positive rather than negative and we ended the 4.5 mile hike feeling good about it overall.

How often do we tense up when things aren’t going the way we want and in our tension merely compound the situation? Sometimes, the best thing we can do when things get rough is to let go of expectation and relax. And, as we yield to the way things are rather than dreaming of the way we wanted things to be, we make peace with the present moment and life begins to look not quite as bad as we thought. Occasionally we waste too much energy on a battle when we should surrender instead. Sometimes making peace with a situation is not a defeat at all but a victory in disguise.

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When The American Dream Becomes The American Nightmare

Two little things I’m grateful for every day.

Just finished a long phone conversation with my youngest sister, the kind where you talk about life on the grand scale, where you are, who you’ve become, and why. I like to have conversations like that every once in a while, a little come-to-Jesus meeting with myself where I take a good hard look at my life and figure out where I’m at. My sister is a person for whom “bored” is a four-letter word. On some level, I think she’s unintentionally sought out drama in her life because she simply doesn’t know how to live with dull, humdrum, it-is-what-it-is life. But, that is the stuff life is made of. Life is not always parades and fireworks. Sometimes it’s leftovers and dirty diapers.

I think that we Americans truly mess ourselves up with an unrelenting focus on the fabled “American Dream.” We’ve come to believe we’re entitled to life in the highest order. We expect that we will be able to have it all. It’s a tall tale. You can’t have it all. There’s not room in life for it all. It’s like trying to cup running water in your hands; you can only hold so much and what you don’t have room for will fall away. Most people on this planet pass quietly through their lives, and their names don’t go down in history’s annals like DaVinci or Aristotle. Most people touch only the lives around them. That’s it. Somewhere along the line that stopped being good enough. It’s too bad.

We should have dreams and plans. We should pursue them. But, we should also accept that life is beautiful even without parades and fireworks. We’ve lost the ability to treasure the little things because we’re waiting for the next big thing. When was the last time you sat down in a forest and paused to hear the wind in the trees and to smell the pines? When was the last time you watched a ladybug in your hand and wondered at it and appreciated its small life? When was the last time you stopped thinking about what you were missing out on and honestly marveled at how much you have? I think, for most of us, it’s been far too long since we last took the opportunity to be grateful for the down times. What we’re missing in our run-around, 24/7 active lives is the peace that comes from being still and not asking anything from life, but simply existing momentarily in it without demands.

The happiest people in this world aren’t the ones who have it all. They’re the ones who are sincerely happy with what they have. When we keep looking for the next big thing, we’re missing the myriad little ones that are given to us daily…the parking spot close to the store on a snowy day, the first cup of coffee of the day that someone else pours for us, the unexpected hug. It’s only when you stop expecting big things to fulfill you that you can let the little things that have always been there fill you up.

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Facebook Is Simply Show-And-Tell For Grown Ups

One of my Facebook profile photos. What does it tell you about me?I don’t know and I don’t really care. I just like it.

I was thinking today that Facebook is the ultimate exercise in show-and-tell. Remember that from kindergarten? Stand up there, show off something you like or care about, and tell people all about it. And, I think that if you treat Facebook (or any social media) that way, it’s a fairly innocuous thing. But, if you find you’re concerned about the number of replies you get to a post or if you’re using your posts to validate your decisions or any other aspect of your life, it might be time to take a step back.

I’ve got 288 Facebook “friends.” The “friends” is in quotes for a reason. All that word means in Facebookland is that I have viewing rights to 288 other people’s lives. I joined Facebook in 2008, so I’ve had years to study the way people use it. Some use it as a soapbox. Others use it for braggadocio. Some, quite sadly, use it to pump up their self-esteem. Some use it to avoid loneliness. Everyone gets something different from it, which is why it fascinates me. But, it all comes back to the notion that we all like to talk about ourselves. With Facebook, we can do it all day and all night and our spewing about ourselves ad nauseam is never considered narcissistic or obnoxious. It’s par for the course. It’s genius, really. Everyone is the center of their Facebook universe. How appropriately human.

I’ve always liked this quote: “What other people think of you is none of your business.” I more or less live by this notion. I learned early on that I am not for everyone, which is just fine with me because there are oodles of people I can do without as well. It’s nice to be liked, but if I’m not it doesn’t affect how I feel about myself. I’m here to find my own way. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I was living someone else’s. Still, it’s easy to get sucked into caring too much what others think of you, especially when you throw yourself onto a social media site and pay too close attention to the responses you get. When you live that way, though, you’re not being authentic. I’ve seen my fair share of folks who clearly use Facebook for personal validation. I know, on occasion, I have been guilty of it too. But, what other people think of you is none of your business. It doesn’t matter. When it’s all said and done, the only person whose opinion about you should matter is your own. So, the next time you post something and no one seems to notice or care, throw yourself a dozen or so mental thumbs up Likes and move on. Facebook is show-and-tell. That’s all it is. Letting it be more than that is a waste of your precious energy on this planet.

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Destination Unknown

The boys and I last July 20th…a day when we woke up with no plans and landed at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.

I don’t often take the time to watch videos on YouTube, but when my friend Kim posted a link today to a commencement address delivered by Maria Shriver entitled The Power of the Pause, it seemed like something that might be worth 20 minutes of my time. It was. Maria, addressing the graduating class at the USC Annenberg School of Communication, spoke to the graduates not about how they could fast forward themselves into a promising and exciting career in journalism but rather about the need to press the pause button occasionally and focus on the present. Far too often in life the questions we receive are about what we will be doing next rather than where we are now and how we are doing in the moment. We miss the present while talking about and planning for the future.

Today was the last full day of school this year for my boys. This day is bittersweet for me each year. On the one hand, I’m mourning the lost of my freedom, my opportunities to have quiet time to myself or chances to meet with friends without noisy boys in tow. On the other hand, though, the last day of school means the last day of waking up early, the last day of making lunches, and the last day of being homework coach…all things I do not miss for the three months they are not part of my life. So, what do I do with all the extra time I garner with the end of school and my school year responsibilities? For years now it’s been my modus operandi to busily plan out a whole slew of events for the boys and I for their vacation. Heaven forbid we waste one moment of glorious summer.

Listening to Maria’s speech today, though, as I was compiling yet another list of activities and was focused again on future events, I pressed the pause button and stopped to reflect. I spend an awful lot of time in my house each summer planning out excursions for the boys and myself when I could simply go with the flow and live in the moment. Instead of concocting outings days or weeks in advance, I could just wake up, grab some gear, tell the boys to get in the car, and see where we end up. It might be a refreshing change if instead of rushing off to one thing or another we just decided on a moment by moment basis how to make the best use of our summer. My parents used to do this with my sisters and I when we were kids. They would throw us in the car and when we’d ask where we were going they would tell us, “Wherever the spirit leads us.” Sometimes we would end up nowhere but back in our driveway. Sometimes we’d end up having ice cream in a park. We never knew the ending until it was over. There’s something so freeing in that.

I know it’s unrealistic to think that I would ever be able to get out of my head entirely. I’m a thinker, and certain things must be planned because this is modern life and modern life includes schedules and appointments. But, I like this idea of pressing the pause button occasionally to make sure you’re not messing up the present by worrying too much about what comes next. Maybe it would do the boys and I some good to be human beings this summer rather than human doings? I don’t know. I guess we’ll see. I’m going to leave a lot of blank days on our calendar so the boys and I can see where the spirit leads us. Summer starts tomorrow and, for once, our destination is unknown.

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I’ve Discovered Blogger’s Hell

My husband is a part-time photographer. He’s been taking photos for 25 years. It’s his creative outlet. Our home is littered with cameras, both functional and antique. What I love best about my husband’s hobby is that he will photograph anyone or anything because he enjoys his craft that much. He’ll take wedding photos, landscape and nature photos, senior class portraits, cityscapes, wildlife and pet photos, as well as commercial photos. His photos are as open minded and easy going as he is. Right now, the whole family is with him on a photo shoot at a wilderness ranch that is under new management and is revamping their marketing strategy.

We’re up in stunning and peaceful North Park, Colorado, on a 4500 acre parcel of land, staying in a beautiful log cabin with two master suites, satellite television, and a hot tub. It’s gorgeous. It’s restful. It’s private. That’s why people come here. They come for the horseback rides through aspen forests dotted with elk and moose. They come for trophy fishing in isolated, fully stocked trout ponds. They come to give their children a taste of nature while sleeping out in teepees under a sky so dark you can clearly see the spiral arms of the Milky Way galaxy. The ranch offers an old west stagecoach ride experience in the summer and cross-country skiing and snowshoeing opportunities in the winter. The wind through the pines whispers, “Relax,” while the yips of the coyotes encourage, “Let go.” It’s a step closer to heaven here.

I can think of only one person who could find flaw with this place. That person is an Internet blogger who realized with chagrin when she arrived that this idyllic place has neither phone service nor Wifi. That person nearly stroked out when she acknowledged she would have to tap out a 500+ word blog post on her iPhone and then drive 30 miles to tiny Walden, Colorado and pray she would either find 3G or a private, unsecured Wifi connection somewhere in town to publish on this cool, breezy Saturday. That person would be more disturbed by the idea of not publishing her 159th consecutive post than she would be by noticing the large, muddy bear paw print on the French door she when she arrived at the lodge. That person, of course, would be me.

It’s not that I can’t rough it. I can. I’ve backpacked and tent camped. I’ve gone days without running water, heat, and showers. I’ve gone to sleep on the hard, cold ground, damp and dirty, and slept soundly after hours of hiking only to awake with pine needles stuck to my face. Born with thick, dry hair, I can go days without a shower and still look mostly presentable. Unlike many women, I’ll neatly pee in the woods without complaint and be proud of it. Come to find out, though, that if you take my Internet away I become a big, thumb-sucking baby.

It’s only because I blog now that this lack of Wifi is tantamount to torture. If I gave up blogging, I could go back to roughing it. No problem. But for now I’m a writer, and this average person’s heaven is my blogger’s hell.

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