The Journey

The More Things Change the More they Stay the Same

My whole focus on what's going on with my journey has taken yet another turn--several, in fact.  Here's the Readers' Digest version:

• I'm not moving to Seattle in the very near future.  I'm still moving there but not, perhaps, until I retire and can move into senior housing that's actually in the Market.
• I'm become addicted to photography and can't seem to get enough of it.
• I've discovered I actually do have a passion.
• I'm in complete transition and it's just fine with me.

For years I've been hearing, "follow your bliss," "do what you love and the money will follow," "take the Passion Test so you can do what is your heart's desire."  All well and good but I didn't feel like I had a passion.  Sure, I love to write but it's something I enjoy, not a passion.  The same is true for knitting, quilting, being a Virtual Assistant, spiritual growth, cooking, well, pretty much everything in my life. 

It was actually pretty depressing to have all these people telling me I needed to discover my passion and go after that when I couldn't seem to find it.

Lynne, my coach, said that some people don't have a single passion, that they simply have a passion for living life to its fullest (my apologies to you, Lynne, if that wasn't quite what you said).  That was nice--an easy out--but not exactly what I wanted to hear.  I wanted to know what I was passionate about so I could do all those wonderful things people kept talking about.

I found it!  It's photography!  Imagine that!  Here's the interesting part.  A friend got me interested.  I had no idea this was something I'd even like let alone love.

In fact, if you go back to my blog of September 29th, you'll see where I said photography wasn't a passion.  Well, back then it wasn't.

Isn't this all so very exciting?  I don't think it really changes anything all that much--it may in the future but for now I think things are pretty much the same except that I live for the days I can go out and take more photos and then get them developed so I can see the beauty of what I photographed live on in my work.  It's a very special feeling.

That's it for now.

Until next time...

Flying First Class

A while back I promised I would tell you more about flying first class.  As I prepare for my coach flight o Minnesota I find myself reflecting back on that experience so here it is.

If you haven't done it before, you really should give it a try if you ever have the opportunity.  I was totally pampered for the whole flight.  Before we even took off the flight attendant was taking drink orders--oh, and there was no big clanky cart for us--no, the flight attendant (her name was Joan) took our orders and went up to the galley, prepared them, and brought them back on a little tray.  No little alcohol bottles for us--our drinks were made for us and served in glass glasses, not plastic. 

As soon as it was safe for the flight attendants to be out of their seats they were taking drink orders again.  I have to confess I didn't order a drink the first time around because I wasn't sure of the protacol and my seat partner (who REALLY didn't want to talk) wasn't ordering anything so I just waited and watched.  No money was changing hands so I decided there must not be a charge.  I wouldn't have minded paying for a drink but my money was in my briefcase and I didn't want to have to be digging for it.  Anyway, I finally ordered something to drink as Joan came around asking if we would like mixed nuts.  She had a stack of little ceramic bowls with perfectly straight sides so they would stack comfortably.  I said I would like some and she put the little bowl on my tray and it was hot--so were the nuts!  They were wonderful!  Oh, and there wasn't a peanut to be found in those mixed nuts.  No, just cashews, hazelnuts, and pistachios--how lovely.  Then it got better.  She came back around with little hot towels to wipe our greasy little fingers on.  How cool is that?

As Joan came around to pick up our little towels, she told us our choices for dinner.  I opted for the croissant with ham and cheese.  It came on a tray with a tiny tablecloth on it.  The sandwich was on a glass plate with a salad that had an artichoke heart, Greek olive, and a lovely Greek dressing.  There was real silverware and a tiny, little wine glass which Joan was more than happy to refill as often as we wanted with the wine she carried in napkin-wrapped bottles. 

Oh, and the seats were butter-soft leather, wide enough to be comfortable and far enough apart to be able to have at least six inches between my knees and the seat in front of me.  That meant the seats could actually recline quite a ways without interfering with the person behind.  It was more like I remember airplanes being when I first flew 30 years ago.  No, the seats weren't leather but they were five across where they are now six across and there was leg room so the seats could recline enough to notice the difference.

The final luxury was a plate of chocolate chip cookies still hot from the oven.  I don't think they were reheated because they were still soft and gooey in the middle but even if that was the case, they tasted freshly made and that really is all that counts, isn't it? 

After such a lovely meal and a couple of Baileys, I leaned back and napped for the last half of the trip.  It was quiet and.....I don't know how to say this but it had to do with not feeling surrounded by people.  There was enough "breathing room" that I didn't feel I couldn't move. 

I may never be content to fly coach again and the good news is that I know I will have enough money to fly first class whenever I really want to.  It's only money, after all, right?  If you ever get the chance, take advantage of it.

Enjoy!

Clothing, Size, and Me

When I was at the EMP in Seattle there was a woman who was there to see the exhibits who was considerably larger than me and she was wearing shorts and a sleeveless tank top.  She seemed completely at ease with her body and her attire.  I am not a small woman and even when I was a size 18 I wouldn't have worn a sleeveless blouse let alone shorts!  I don't think I've worn either since well before I graduated high school!

What has this to do with anything, you ask?  Simply that I'm not certain where I stand on the whole body image/clothing appropriate for body shape issue.  Is it a good thing to feel comfortable enough with my body that I can wear a sleeveless blouse when I have flabby arms?  Am I better off feeling that people probably don't want to see my flabby upper arms exposed to the sun?  Do I wear the clothing I wear to be sensitive to they sensibilities of others or because it's what I'm comfortable wearing?  Do I even want to wear something different than what I wear?  Do I not want to because I'm ashamed of my body?

Well, that's a whole crapload of questions I have no answers to!  Here's what I DO know.  I know I am not comfortable with my body size or shape.  I am not comfortable having people see me in clothing they might consider inappropriate for someone my size.  I am not comfortable wearing clothing I consider inappropriate for someone my size.

Not too sure where this is going.  I think I would like to be able to be comfortable wearing whatever I want to wear.  I know I want to totally not care what anyone else wears!  It's a worthy goal ^_^

Enjoy!

Moving Update

I was over in Seattle last week.  I was running the registration for an event I had planned for one of my clients.  I felt so alive there--it was absolutely amazing!  It made me remember just how important it is for me to get over there.

I had been losing a little of my excitement about the move.  I wasn't sure what it was but then I figured it out.  I wasn't reading my motivational books and I was letting my fibromyalgia kick my butt and I was tired--just plain tired.  I started thinking about the money I was spending on my trip to Chicago and the money I'd be spending this month on my trip to Minnesota, and how I have to have about $5000 to move (first & last plus security deposit, an extra month of rent at the old apartment, movers, and incidentals) and how long it would take to save that much if I keep spending it on trips.

I was allowing those thoughts to bring me down.  I wasn't thinking about the limitless possibilities any more--I was now thinking about the limiting "realities."

I'm so glad I had the chance to go over to Seattle when I did.  I really needed that little boost to my attitude and that gave it to me.

Now I'm back on track, saving my money to come up with the moving amount.  When I went over this time I drove so I looked at apartment buildings both on my way to the Seattle Center and back.  I saw several buildings I might want to live in.  I'm thinking I'll go back over there as soon as I get back from my trip to Minnesota and start looking--see which apartment I actually want so I can more easily visualize living in it.

Enjoy!

Renoir and Color

I recently wrote about my trip to Chicago.  It was, indeed, very fabulous, but I made it kind of a travelogue rather than talking about what touched my soul.

Here's what made the whole trip worthwhile on a soul level:  Renoir's Two Sisters.  There is no way I can possibly describe the brilliance of the colors in that painting!  They were luminescent!  They were alive!  They were indescribable in words of any kind.  The moment I walked into the room in which this painting hung (with a few Monets and a couple of Van Goughs), it grabbed me by the lapels, dragged me over to it, and held on to me for a very long time.  There was a museum employee sitting at at table in that room and when I walked in I know I gasped because she looked up at me and smiled. 

When I looked at the red that shone so brightly I suspect I could have seen it in the dark, I felt joy--I felt passion--I felt completely removed from the world.  What I didn't feel was any negative physical or emotional feeling.  I was moved nearly to tears by the brilliance of that painting. 

I smiled for the entire rest of the day just living on the memory of that painting. 

I saw hundreds of paintings and sculptures that morning but they pale in comparison.  It's pretty sad when Cezanne, Monet, Picasso, and Van Gough just don't quite capture your attention.  OK, that's not accurate.  I was very moved by those paintings and very impressed with the skill with which they executed those works.  I loved seeing how each artist had their own subtle (and not-so-subtle in some cases) choices for colors and feelings.  The paintings I had seen only in photographic reproductions in the past were right there, on the walls, just waiting for me to stand and admire them.  I was able to get inches away from all of them.  It isn't allowed, but I could have reached out and actually touched them. 

When I was telling someone about this she said, "Oh, haven't you been to Europe?"  No, not only have I not been to Europe, the only museum of any repute I had ever visited before that was the Minneapolis Institute of Art and, while they have a lovely collection, there was simply nothing to compare to the beauty of that one Renoir!  I understand that this is my personal feeling about that one painting and other people may have it about something totally different and that's just fine--this is my shining, joyful painting that, had I been alive when it was first painted, would have sold many of my belongings to have owned.

I must find more opportunities to experience this kind of joy and passion in my life if I am to live the life I was intended to live.

Enjoy!

To Chicago and Back

Sorry to have been gone so long.  Here's what I've been doing--I went to Chicago! 

It was totally fabulous!  Here's the short version of the story just in case you didn't read about this when I first started writing about it (I'll really try to make it the short version, I promise).  One of my clients had a ticket for an Internet Marketing Superconference (if, after reading this, you decide you want to attend, watch the blog for a link that will follow in a week or two--I'm going to be signing up for the affiliate program and it would be lovely if you would support me while supporting your marketing education--back to the story).  My client couldn't attend and helped pay for me to go--what a cool thing is that?  Law of Attraction in action!

Anyway, I attended the conference and it was the very best marketing conference I ever went to!  Great fun.  Here's the funniest part.  The folks who put on this conference aren't what you would call the most spiritually enlightened of people.  We've talked about Abraham and Esther & Jerry Hicks, right?  When Dan Kennedy talks about them, he says "Those are the ones who talk to dead people, right?"  So I'm at this conference and I'm listening to a lot of people talk about hard-edged marketing--no attraction marketing for these folks--but in the midst of all this I keep hearing about The Secret, the Law of Attraction, and drawing circumstances and people to us.  This was SOOOOOOO cool! 

I'm getting off track.  Anyway, I'm at this conference, staying at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare (I don't recommend staying there) and when the conference is over I took the el (that's the elevated railway) to downtown Chicago and spent the day in the Institute of Art (absolutely magnificent) and taking a tour of the city.  I have to tell you, it was the most amazing day!  The city is fabulous!  I can't wait to be able to go back and spend more time seeing the things I saw from the tour bus I was on.

I have to tell you--I was so tired I could hardly move.  That was fine, though. I had such a fabulous time it didn't even matter to me.  I was riding high on the wave of marketing information, the oil paintings of Renoir, Monet, Picasso, etc., and the sites of Chicago.  When I got to the airport and was getting my electronic boarding pass, the little machine said, "Would you like to upgrade to first class?"  Would I like to upgrade to first class?  For the first time in my life I didn't even think about how much I could buy with that money.  I said, YES, I want to upgrade to first class!  As my client says, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from!  There's a never-ending supply. 

I can't begin to tell you how liberating that was.  It was worth so much more than the cost of the upgrade!  It's a little different but somehow the same as the whole thing about moving to Seattle because it's where I want to live and being tired of settling for second best just because it costs less.

I'll tell you about the whole first class experience one of these days but right now I have work to do on my new ebook--that's the other thing that came out of the Chicago conference.  I'm going to write a book entitled, Be Your Own Virtual Assistant.  I can market the living daylights out of that, don't you think?  I'll tell you more about that later, too. 

For now, enjoy, and remember that it really is possible, whatever "it" is.

Pain is an Amazing Thing

written 3/6/06

I talked to a friend today about pain.  She was talking about this amazing stuff she’s been taking that has been a true miracle in her life.  She has a condition that was causing her to experience constant pain.  I could spend an entire post talking about the relative levels of pain—I had some interesting emotional discoveries about that while she and I were talking—but this is about something else. 

OK, so she has been taking this really cool stuff (natural, non-prescription stuff) and she is pain-free.  That’s very wonderful but the part that made me need to take a walk to think about stuff was the next part.  She said something about how she thought she would be able to do more because she is now able to start putting thoughts together.  She talked about how she has been able to work and do things but when she was trying to do it through the pain, it didn’t work the way she knows it used to.

It made perfect sense when she talked about it.  What started occurring to me after we talked about how amazing it is that she’s feeling so much better is that I’ve been kicking myself around the block because I’m not functioning as well as I do when I’m not in pain.  Good grief!  It was so clear when I talked to someone else who has been experiencing it.  I’ll be the first to say that her pain was much more intense than mine.  I have no doubt that means she had to work much harder than I do to accomplish everything she does in her life but it still means I’m working harder than I used to. 

I’m not sure why I’m having so much trouble writing this but I am.  I set this aside for a couple of hours and I think I may know what’s happening.  I hate to admit this, even to myself, but I think it’s because I feel I shouldn’t succumb to the same human frailties everyone else does.  When I write it out that sounds patently ridiculous but I recognize it from past experience.  I figure I should be able to do just about everything I attempt the first time I try it—I should be able to understand whatever I read—I should be able to….. never mind, you get it.  I expect perfection.  What I can’t quite figure out is who I think I’m trying to kid—I’m no more perfect than the rest of the world.

Yet another bit of work to be done to make this whole journey thing make a real difference in my life.

Chicago Update

I find I'm still nervous about going to Chicago.  I have three jackets to make so I can look "nicer" than "normal" and I haven't even started them yet.  I haven't even pre-washed the fabric.  This is an old pattern--if I ignore it, maybe it will go away.  It never does.

I just decided!  Rather than writing any more right now, I'm going to go to the store and get the last bit of fabric and notions I need and come home and perhaps even cut one of the jackets out!  We'll see.  It might even be fun!

Anxiety

Before I start posting all those old posts I've been writing and saving up I decided I wanted to tell you what's been going on with my anxiety level. 

A couple of weeks ago I had work that needed to be done by Monday.  On Friday I was unable to work more than a couple of hours because I kept having serious feelings of anxiety.  Every time I tried to work on something I would get this awful feeling in my stomach that radiated out to my fingertips and toes.  That was just the physical manifestation, though.  The worst of it was my inability to do any work.  I honestly couldn't focus on any work.  The same thing happened all weekend long. 

By Monday morning I was able to perform a reasonable amount of work but certainly not as much as I wanted to.  This has been happening far more often than I am comfortable with.  Yeah, I know, once is more than I'm comfortable with but I could have handled once much easier than half a dozen times.  Anyway, I'm sure that's part of the reason I haven't been posting. 

Why tell you this?  I'm not really sure but I think it has to do with the fact that it's part of my journey.  I've been talking with my coach about the anxiety.  It might be a reaction to reducing a medication I was taking.  Actually, it doesn't matter WHY I'm feeling that way nearly as much as what I can do about it.

Well, that didn't say much, did it?  This may just be here to let you know that I've been experiencing the anxiety and perhaps I'll have an opportunity to write more about it later--hopefully with some kind of insight into how I overcame it.

More to follow.

I'm Always the Last to Know

written 2/24/07

This will either make perfect sense to you or you'll wonder what the heck I could possibly be thinking--I don't suspect there will be a lot of in between thinking about this whole thing.  OK, here goes.

I keep rediscovering that I'm smart.  Does that make any sense?  If it does, you'll understand the rest of this easily.  If it doesn't, well, it might not be quite as clear but I'd encourage you to give it a try because it might be helpful to know this to be supportive to other people in your life.

This starts back when I was in the 8th or 9th grade.  I had a guidance counselor who told me I wasn't bright enough to go to college so I should take practical classes that would help me earn a living after I graduated from high school.  Why would he say that if I was smart?  Well, like so many children, it was a combination of depression, boredom, and being distracted by big stuff like my parents' divorce and being sexually molested.  Anyway, paying attention in class really wasn't high on my list of priorities.  I've always envied people who could face adversity with strength and determination but it took me a while to get the hang of it--about 25 or so years (well, that's from the time the depression set in).  Now that I've figured it out, though, I'm much better at it.  Anyway, I was quite willing to accept what he said at face value and obediently took secretarial courses so I could support myself when I graduated from high school.  Add to that a family who assumed I wouldn't go to college and the myth began

That sets the stage for why I continued to think I wasn't very bright.  I surrounded myself with people who reinforced that belief.  I married a man who wanted me to believe it so he could control me.  When he allowed me to work (yes, I really did say that!) I worked for people who encouraged me to believe that.  My friends weren't the kind of people who went around trying to lift others up.  It went on and on. 

[I started this several weeks ago--then I got the flu and didn't do much for quite a while.  I saw this in here this morning and decided to finish it up and post it.  So it was begun 2/24 and finished 3/17.]

Then there was the physical part of depression.  I was so exhausted all the time I took to heart every time my father told me how lazy I was.  I'll freely admit I'm frequently self-indulgent but I've NEVER been lazy. 

Fast forward to a time in my life when I took a psychological evaluation.  No one told me a part of that would be intelligence testing but it was.  When the psychologist did the follow-up consultation to explain everything to me she said my IQ was 138.  I know, I know, Stanford Binet Intelligence Quotient tests have come under scrutiny for their inaccuracy but they are generally in the ball park.  What I knew from reading was that 135 was considered genius!  Good grief.  How could a test be so wrong?  See?  I still wasn't thinking "smart."  I was thinking that I wasn't smart so the test must be flawed.

That was 20 years ago and I've spent a lot of time on personal growth and development and I still have to remind myself that I'm smart.  It gets easier every day but there are still times when it sneaks up on me and surprises the living daylights out of me.

I suspect I had a point when I started writing but, as with most journals, I get to rambling and then it just because whatever it becomes.  This will hopefully become a just another reminder, possibly made stronger by virtue of writing it down rather than just thinking it.

Be happy today!