“Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.”
                                            -Mother Teresa

One of my classmates passed away recently and it hit me harder than I would have expected. I wouldn’t say I was close to him but I knew him. Well, I knew him in a way that someone from a small town knows someone else. I admit that I could have gotten to know him better, but we were different, ran in different circles. See, he was a genuinely good guy. Good grades, good behavior, community service, involved in sports, strong in his faith…the works. He was nice to everyone, and no one could ever say a bad thing about him. And the one thing I remember most was his smile. He had a smile for everyone and it was warm, innocent, and most of all, sincere.

I, on the other hand, was not such a good girl. I didn’t feel like I belonged, so I misbehaved in protest. But I’ve already told you about that.

What I wanted to say is that this guy didn’t look down his nose at me. He didn’t treat me any differently. He was nice to me, and he never withheld his smile from me. That was the type of person he was. He had a good heart and a good soul. And it saddens me that such a good person had to be taken so young. He deserved to live a long, happy life.

But I thank the higher power that the world was blessed with his presence, even if for a short time. I thank the higher power that there are people like him in this world. People who keep their minds and hearts open. People who give of themselves without a second thought. People who don’t feel the need to place judgment on everyone they know. People who talk to you and listen to you and are genuinely interested in what you have to say. People who smile. I don’t think people realize how much power a smile can hold. What if we all smiled at each other instead of scowling and screaming and fighting and pointing fingers? What if we just took the time to smile at the people we see at work, at school, at the grocery store, wherever, whenever?

I believe that we are here to know love. We are here to give love, to receive love, to be hurt by love, to be healed by love. And I’m not speaking solely of romantic love. I’m speaking of all kinds, including love of your fellow human being. I think my dearly departed classmate, who gave his life for his country, knew this love.

I wish there were more people like him in this world. Then maybe this world would be a better place.

I know I am an idealist. I know the grumps and cynics will tell me to take my kumbaya nonsense and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I wish they could see that is what is wrong with the world. That people don’t smile or connect with others. That people judge and hate. That people don’t believe in the power of love and kindness.  And as long as people don’t believe in love and kindness, as long as people build walls around their hearts, around their souls, around their homes and cities and countries, then there will not be peace and joy for all. I know it sounds simplistic, but what is wrong with that? Maybe we have over complicated everything anyway. Maybe it’s possible that tearing down the walls we have built to keep each other out will make all our lives better. Maybe it’s possible that opening our hearts and minds to each other will allow us to see the beauty and wonder we have been blind to. Maybe it’s possible that love is all we need.

And maybe it’s possible that a smile, in some small way, can change the world.

This post is dedicated to all the men and women who serve this country, and to those who have given their lives to ensure our freedom. Until we can tear down those walls and greet each each other with a smile instead of with fear, they will be there to protect us.

Have a safe and happy Fourth!

Walk a Mile

I often wonder about humans. And everyday something happens that makes me wonder even more.

I was driving home from school and was tired and brain fried. The street I was on is often busy and not engineered for efficiency.  It passes in front of a church and private school. On this day, traffic was getting bunched up, but it began to move slowly so I went slowly with it. Well, of course, it stopped and I had to stop. My timing and location were not ideal. I was right in front of one of the exits from the church parking lot. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except that there was a ‘gentleman’ trying to leave the parking lot and he was none pleased that I stopped where I did.

He stared at me as though I had just insulted his mother. If looks could kill, I would have been slaughtered! Had he not had his wife and child in the vehicle, he might have jumped out and taken a bat to my windshield.

Fortunately, after staring at me for a minute or so, he decided to squeeze through the space just wide enough for him to pull out in front of me. Being the lady that I am, I waved him on through instead of returning his dirty looks.

Traffic moved about then and he sped away like a bat out of hell.

I saw this as a microcosm of human behavior. Admittedly, I was not entirely present and had I been, I might have stopped further back. And I think that many of us, much of the time, are not entirely present. We are preoccupied with often negative thoughts; the economy sucks, the bills are due, we hate our jobs. We are also busy; we have to get to work, pick up the kids, go to the grocery store.

All this busyness and preoccupation keeps us from giving the current situation our full attention and so we make mistakes. Here’s the other problem. People often take those mistakes as personal transgressions. And they flip the bird or yell at you or threaten you. Sometimes the only mistake you made was being anywhere near them while they were in a bad mood. There are a lot of angry people in the world. And I don’t always blame them. Life is unfair, life is tough, and it takes a lot to keep your patience and compassion. And the more you deal with people who cut you off in traffic, the easier it is to become jaded about the human race.

Now, I have vowed to work on keeping a positive attitude and I like to think that most humans are good by nature. So, I don’t want to bad mouth that man. Maybe he is actually really nice. Maybe he had to rush home to a sick child. Maybe he had been cut off in traffic multiple times that day. I don’t know. But part of becoming a better human being is putting yourself in the other person’s place. Try to understand what the other person is thinking or feeling. Patience, forgiveness, empathy. Maybe that man could have spared a little patience for me. I’m not always inconsiderate. In fact, most of the time, I let people get in front of me or pull out of a parking lot.

I guess in the end, the fact remains that we humans are selfish creatures. We find it difficult to think of other people or how our behavior might affect them. We make mistakes but find it difficult to forgive others of their mistakes. All that matters is what we want or need, where we have to go and what we have to do.

While I wonder what the world would be like if we were all endlessly patient and deeply compassionate, I know that there are lots of good people in the world doing good things for others. There are plenty of big hearts and open minds to balance out the cold souls. People who love and forgive and always smile at other people, even those who are rude and mean. People who refrain from judging or taking their anger out on others. There are people who offer a helping hand and never expect anything in return. People who take the time, who have the awareness to think about walking a mile in someone else's shoes before they react.

I wonder how they do it.

Of Humans and Mutants

Sometimes I look in the mirror and am not happy with the person looking back at me. I’m not speaking literally. I mean, sometimes I’m not happy with myself physically, but right now I’m speaking figuratively. Sometimes I look at that person and I ask “What is your deal?!?”

I guess we all have our bad habits, our idiosyncrasies, and our less than good behavior. We are only human after all. But part of being human is that we have the capacity to think about what we do and how we can improve ourselves. They say acknowledging the bad within you is the first step on the road to becoming a better person. Well, I have acknowledged that about me which I want to change. I have acknowledged and battled. I find that I am better for a while and then somehow I fall back into my bad habits. Most of these bad habits stem from my ‘too much’ problem. Too much thinking, too much feeling, too much passion, too much consuming. And each time I say or do something that I wish I hadn’t, I promise to myself that I will not be that person again. But inevitably, I’ll make the same mistake.

Perhaps the war between good and evil rages within us, not around us. Perhaps God and Satan (if that is what you believe) reside within us, not above and below us. Perhaps, as humans, we are constantly striving to find the balance between our light and dark sides, the yin and yang.

Perhaps the problem is that we try to yank out that undesirable part of us, deny it, and hide it in a basement like some kind of hideous mutant. We don’t want to look at it and we don’t want others to see it. Sometimes we try to kill it, bury it.

We find it easy to judge others for their bad habits, but find it difficult to look within. Everyone is busy pretending there are no monsters hiding in anyone’s basement or buried in the backyard. As long as no one ventures down there, or digs, we’ll all be ok. We’ll have our dinner parties and ignore the strange noises from downstairs and the mounds in the yard.

But maybe we should all venture down there, into the dark. We should all turn on the lights and look at our mutant selves. We should look and say “You are a part of me and I accept you. I accept you and I will bring you into the light and acknowledge your existence.” We should dig up what we can never truly kill and bury for good. We should embrace that mutant within. And then forgive it. And let it go. It is not about defeating, but rather overcoming.

I cannot change the fact that I am human and not perfect in any shape or form. I confess to each of the seven deadly sins:  lust, greed, sloth, pride, wrath, envy, gluttony.

That doesn’t mean that I feel absolved of my sins. No, confession clears the conscience, but not the soul. As a human, I will for the rest of my life work on balancing my dark and light sides. And maybe I won’t continue to make the same mistakes if I look that mutant in the eyes and know it for what it is. If I don’t hide it away in the dark, then it can’t sneak up on me. If I don't try to kill and bury it, then it can't haunt me. I can’t be afraid of it, of others seeing it and shunning me. I can’t deny its existence as I can’t deny myself. No, I have to face it. In the end, if I hide it or bury it, I'm only hiding myself, only burying myself, and will become the mutant in full.

Sorry if this one is a bit heavy. I can be that way sometimes. It’s a part of who I am.

I’m going to go full circle today. In my very first post, I spoke of a song by one of my current favorite bands, Mumford and Sons. Well, it took me a while (music purchases are a luxury for me), but I eventually purchased the cd. I have not been able to take it out of my cd player ever since! It is rare that I love every song on a cd, but this cd is a rare piece of art indeed. Every song touches me, wraps in emotions, and I never tire of the poetry in the lyrics. Sigh No More is the name of the cd and I highly recommend it. But, I’m not here to sell records. I wanted to talk about another song. The title is “White Blank Page”.  Here are the first few lines:

“Can you lie next to her

  And give her your heart

         Your heart, as well as your body

         And can you lie next to her

           

         And confess your love

         Your love, as well as your folly…”

Tell me you didn’t get goose bumps. Ok, perhaps you are not as emotional and romantic as I, but the power in those lines pulls me in. And while lyrics have their own meaning for each individual, this to me is what love is. True love allows you to give all of yourself to someone, body and soul. You open yourself up, strip away all pretenses, and fall to your knees. Have you ever experienced this? Do you feel it now?

“But tell me now, where was my fault

         In loving you with my whole heart…”

 Have you ever asked that? Have you wondered why sometimes love isn’t enough? Why you can offer your heart to someone and they can turn and walk away? Why you were wrong to love them in the first place? Love can be so brutal. It can give you wings, but it can clip them as well. It can call you to the light or shut you in the dark.

          “A white blank page and a swelling rage

           You did not think when you sent me to the brink

           You desired my attention but denied my 

           

           affections..."         

 A white blank page…What does that mean to you? I see it as all the things you want, you need, you mean to say but can’t.  It’s the pain that tears through you that you have no words for.  And a swelling rage. That is the anger, the fire that love can sometimes ignite. It burns you up, sears your soul. The anger of love unrequited, love denied, love betrayed.

People don’t always think about what they do and the hurt it can cause. And it is the people we love who will hurt us the most. Because they are the ones with the power to do so. They may not realize what they are capable of, how they can push you to the edge, to the point of breaking.  They may not even mean to do it, but they can and they do.

Have you ever given of yourself, only to realize it is not you they want? Have you ever looked into someone’s eyes and seen that faraway look that tells you they are thinking of someone else? Have you stayed by someone’s side, given them everything they need, loved them, only to be denied entrance to their heart? I have. But I have also been on the other side. I imagine we have all had the miserable experience of not being loved and not being able to love.

Now, I will not pretend to understand exactly what Mumford and Sons mean to say. And as I said before, songs touch different people in different ways, and they take on their own meaning in each soul. All I can do is tell you what the song means to me.

Please, listen, and find your own meaning.

Just A Girl?

I am woman, hear me roar!

Today is International Women’s Day and I would like to say that I am proud to be a woman and proud to honor all the beautiful women I know and love. I am not a feminist, though I may sometimes act/think/speak as though I am. In fact, I have to admit that I have often struggled with my feminine side. For a long time I thought I had either been a male in my past life or that I should have been born a boy. As a young girl, I was very much a tomboy. I wore boy’s clothes, owned a skateboard, and climbed trees. I enjoyed playing outside and riding my bike. I tore the straps off my shiny dress shoes. I wanted to be the son my daddy didn’t have.

Eventually, I entered a more girly phase. I even became a cheerleader. I also became interested in boys as something more than buddies. I yo-yoed back to being more of a tomboy when I got into my rocker stage. I wore my Doc Martins to a school dance. Good thing my date didn’t mind (he had long hair).

I think I finally started plucking my eyebrows and wearing makeup regularly in my sophomore year of high school. I did wear skirts but often times with knee high stockings and my Docs. Everyone seems to remember the black and white striped stockings for some reason. I guess they were kind of funny. Perfect with my blue hair.

I did have boyfriends but I also had boy friends, buddies. I always enjoyed hanging out with guys. They were funny and crazy and did cool things. It’s difficult to have male best friends, though. Everyone swears there is something going on, and sometimes my buddies wanted something to go on, even though I didn’t. And other girls sometimes judge you for hanging out with boys. I was called every name in the book and it broke my heart.

I’m still somewhat of a tomboy now. I like driving trucks, watching sports and drinking beer. I don’t wear makeup regularly, run around in jeans and flats, and don’t have manicured nails. I still like hanging out with guys, with my husband present of course (he’s my best buddy now). I don’t like chick flicks. And I can appreciate looking at a beautiful woman as much as any guy. In fact, women are just better looking, and soft, and not hairy, and they smell wonderful.

But I do like to dress up and wear makeup and curl my hair every now and then. And I love feminine clothes, especially those with a vintage flair. I like silk and lace. I like heels. I like butterflies and flowers. And I do like to read some chick lit (I’m a hopeless romantic). I can discuss makeup and clothes and shoes, just not for too long. I prefer to talk about sports, movies, music, books, and life.

Someone once called me an enigma. They said they couldn’t figure me out. I couldn’t always figure me out either. I was also called a walking contradiction. I guess I was that, too. I always had one foot in a boot and one foot in a heel. And I always felt like I had to defend this. But why? Why can’t I embrace both my masculine and feminine sides? Why can’t we all happily and comfortably embrace both and accept those who do? Why does anyone, be it man or woman, have to fit into a category, be a certain way, live a certain life? Why does society have to feminize or masculinize everything? And I shouldn’t be hypocritical. I did say chick flicks and chick lit. I described my behavior as feminine or masculine.Why do I even need to categorize?

There are conflicting views on society’s role in gender expectations. Some say it’s natural for girls to want to play with dolls and boys to play with trucks or guns. Others say it’s all due to society’s pressure to behave a certain way. I am not a scientist and that is a subject which I cannot delve into here.

What I want to say here is that I believe a woman can be whatever she wants, whether a girly girl or a tomboy or both or neither. And as women, we should love, help, inspire, and reach out to each other. We shouldn’t envy or gossip or be hypocritical.

Feminine beauty is about more than hair and makeup and clothes. It is the power, the light that comes from within. A woman’s curves fill out jeans and a tee just as well as a dress. A woman’s eyes can hypnotize whether she has eye shadow and mascara on or not. A woman’s lips can kiss away worry and fear and pain with or without lipstick. A stay at home mother is no less intelligent or classy than a career woman. Nor is a career woman any less of a wife and mother. And neither should have to defend her choice. Nor should the woman who decides not to marry or have children.

I hope that someday every woman in this world will be free to be herself and to be loved for who she is, without having to fit into some category or follow the path society deems she must take.

Happy International Women’s Day! I hope you all know how beautiful you really are.

Tragicomedy

“This world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel…”

 –Horace Walpole

I have come to the realization that my son has inherited my hyper sensitive nature. Well, actually I realized this a long time ago, but I have finally come to terms with it. I had hoped perhaps the sensitivity was a part of childhood, some phase he would go through and be done with eventually. But alas, he is as sensitive as the day is long.

Like me, he is saddened when we watch movies and someone is mean to another person and hurts them deeply, or if someone or something dies (yes, even animals or animated objects). Sometimes, he even cries, but don’t tell him I told you.

Once, we were watching a nature show, and after watching a predator catch his dinner, my son said, “I wish no animals had to die ever.” This morning I was cleaning the floor and a spider caught me unawares and I screamed “Spider!” My son then shouted at me not to kill it.

I remember he once said something that broke my heart and I began to cry. I told him it was the meanest thing he ever said to me. Then he began sobbing and apologized for being mean. He really hates to be scolded, even by other adults. It makes him so sad.

He is also sensitive about what other people say to him, especially if they are being mean or making fun of him or just teasing him. He gets his feelings hurt so easily.

Unfortunately, he is also very, very competitive and when it comes to sports, he will cry if he loses a game, even to his father. We keep reminding him the point is to have fun, not be the best at everything, but he still has a difficult time controlling his emotions.

I admit I worry that my son’s sensitivity will cause him to suffer considerable pain in his lifetime. A sensitive person myself, I dealt with a lot of heartbreak and sadness, and I don’t want my son to hurt the way I have. Life is not easy. It is full of disappointment and loss. In other words, life is a tragedy, especially to those who feel too much.

That being said, however, I can’t imagine not feeling all the things I’ve felt in my lifetime. If I had it to do over, I would gladly have my heart broken just to feel the exhilaration of infatuation or the fullness of love. I would embrace the pain of criticism to appreciate the joy of acceptance. I would mourn losses to celebrate who and what I have.

Feeling is a part of being alive. And I want my son to be completely alive.

I also want him to realize that life is a comedy, too. That sometimes, you have to laugh at yourself, at the world, at the incongruities of life. I want my son to laugh so hard he cries and fights for breath. I want him to have a sense of humor that will get him through some of those trying times.

Thinking is a part of being alive, too. And I want my son to think just as much as he feels. I want him to continue being curious about everything. I want him to ponder the greatest questions in life. I want him to read and learn as much as he can. And perhaps this will allow him to see the sun through the clouds.

In the end, I shouldn’t worry that my son feels and thinks as much as he does. He is loving and empathetic and sensitive of other’s feelings. He asks me questions that I often can’t answer. He is witty and clever. And I love him for all that he is.

My son wrote a poem once for a class assignment. I leave you with his words and reminder to have open hearts and open minds and think and feel as much as you can.

 “I feel sorry for mean people because they have small hearts…”

Bookwormholes

You all know by now that I love movies and music. As I have said before, I appreciate all artistic endeavors, and that includes writing. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE books! If there were such an occupation as professional reader, that would be my title. I can’t get enough of books. And I like all types: fiction, non-fiction, poetry. You name it, I’ll read it. Often times, I have a stack of books on my nightstand that I’m reading, switching from one to another depending on my mood.

I just finished the book Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I should say I devoured it for I could not put it down! I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it only because I was hesitant to read it. It was suggested by a dear friend of mine but the way she spoke of it led me to believe it was about a hot and heavy love affair. And while it was about a hot and heavy love affair, it wasn’t only about a hot and heavy love affair. There was time travel and intrigue. There were kidnappings and daring rescues. There was magic and mystery. And the love affair wasn’t the stuff of sappy romance novels. The chemistry was palpable. I found myself blushing while reading!

I could go on and on about this book, but I don’t write book reviews. Suffice to say that I recommend you read this book. You may find yourself hooked as well. And like me, you may find yourself dying to get ahold of the next book in the series.

What I really wanted to talk about was the power of books. Like movies and even music, books can transport you to another time and/or place. They can yank you out of your own little world and drop you into another. It’s almost like time traveling minus the wormhole. And Outlander was about time travel, so I was really transported!

I have always wished I could time travel. I’m not interested in the future so much as the past. History was always one of my favorite subjects in school, and the books we read for class just didn’t have quite enough information for me. I am so curious about everything, the more I learn, the more I want to know. Perhaps I am alone in this, but wouldn’t it be absolutely amazing to go back in time and watch a dinosaur battle? Or find out exactly how the Egyptians build the pyramids? Wouldn’t you want to have a conversation with some of the most famous historical figures, really find out who they are? I could spend an hour or two with Van Gogh or Edgar Allen Poe or Joan of Arc.

Many believe that we read or watch movies to get away from our own reality for a little while. I would tend to agree. I know sometimes I feel like escaping the mundane tasks of the modern world where every day is not a life or death struggle. Sometimes I don’t want to think about the mortgage or the pile of laundry or my homework assignment. Sometimes I want to find myself deep in mysteries and battles and love triangles. And sometimes, it is just a way for me to escape my own often intense thoughts and emotions.

But I also think that reading opens up my mind and my world. So, rather than ‘escaping’, it’s almost as though I become connected to the universe, as though it reveals itself to me, and it’s like the sun rising over a dark valley. Suddenly, I begin to see things in a different light. I see how everything and everyone in this world is tied together.  I also begin to see myself in a different light. Sometimes, reading other’s thoughts and emotions gives me insight into my own. I can share in love and joy or anger and sorrow. I read about other humans at their best and at their worst and I think about my own actions. It’s almost as though a book can act as a mirror and show you what you did not see before.

Again, I could go on and on but this is a blog, not a dissertation. I know I jumped around a bit and my flair for the dramatic may be a bit exhausting, but I guess what I really want to say is that reading is learning, and learning is a beautiful thing.