The Art of Letting go - Part II - new beginnings

There I was, 40-something, standing in the middle of my new one bedroom apartment when it finally occurred to me...

For the first time in my life, I was about to live alone.

I felt my eyes brimming over with tears as I took a walk down memory lane and the last 25 years. I was overtaken with emotion.

No more kids to clean up after, no more vats of food to make, or fights to mediate, or tears to wipe or homework to check, (well that's not true - occasionally they still send their essays for feedback), but mostly...

NO MORE BATHROOM TO SHARE.

And you know what that means...

I could finally pee with the door OPEN.

Wahoo!!!

Silly as it sounds, anyone who hasn't tried this yet has no idea how liberating it is. Combined with an exercise that entails walking through your home completely naked serves up an effective recipe designed to remind one what life was like before restrictions. Frakkin' awesome.

Welcome to your potty training mental state.

Yesiree. The perks of living alone were starting to overshadow the awkward silence I was feeling in a space that was for once, COMPLETELY mine.

I had taken living with (and caring) for others so much for granted that I realized it was going to take some time for all of this 'freedom' to sink in.

But as always old habits die hard.

I was still buying food in bulk and making vats of it, just in case any of the boys or their girlfriends dropped by. (And there was always a chance, since everyone lived but a block away).

But that's not the point. I simply wasn't used to it.

It hadn't really dawned on me how foreign this concept of living alone was until I went to bed for the first time. I turned the TV off and there it was...

Silence

No more residual noises leftover from kids socializing until the wee hours of the morning, no more video games playing softly in another room, and no more wondering who will waltz in late from a night out on the town.

It was absolute, total, unequivocal silence.

How the hell am I suppose to sleep in this? I thought.

I know... like this - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

And just like that, I did.

However, life alone was not all daisies and daffodils.

As I settled into the new life changes I was experiencing, I realized that the trough-sized portions of food I was constantly cooking were less of an altruistic desire to feed my family and perhaps more honestly, a reflection of my own need to keep some semblance of my old life intact (and my other self).

After all, who was I if I wasn't needed?

I wanted to be needed. I wanted to matter.

Most of all, I wanted to count.

And if I didn't do something for someone, then what need would exist for them to come over?

It was such a large part of my modus operandi that I'm not sure I knew who I was without it.

So I cooked. But as the weeks and months passed, I stopped cooking for those other reaons (that I needed to be prepared just in case someone dropped by). I did it because it relaxed me, as it always had after a hectic day at work.

Cooking became its own reward. Especially soup.

So I became The Soupmaker.

Whether someone came by to enjoy the fruits of my loving labors became irrelevant to me. (Even though someone usually did). What was relevant was the feeling I got from doing it.

It always comes down to feelings.

If it feels good, you're doing it for the right reasons (whatever it is you're doing). And if it doesn't feel good, you stop.

It's as simple as that.

As the months wore on, something else occurred to me that shifted my life into new beginnings, changing my perspective once again...

I no longer had a nuclear family.

That realization became one of the turning points in my life. For this one however, I had to learn the art of really letting go.

While I am privileged to receive a phone call from at least one of the boys on a daily basis, for the most part, I was now on the outskirts of their lives.

And I'll never forget when it dawned on me either.

I had just gotten off the phone with one of them, and was told they had all made plans with each other (and girlfriends) over the holidays - dinner at one of their apartments, complete with wine and dessert. Always a big success.

Always?

"It's a tradition we started years ago Mom".

And I was not in the mix.

Oh my GOD, I thought, I'M EXTENDED FAMILY.

All the pieces were starting to fit together.

I realized I was also not the first responder in a crisis. Not that I didn't want to be, I just wasn't necessarily the first one they called when they had a problem - sometimes I was, but often they called each other first.

As it should be.

The shock wore off quickly enough. But as I hung up the phone, I remained standing, hands on my hips, looking at the ground expecting it to open up and an invisible home theatre to slowly emerge as the trailer of "My Life as a Mother" would start playing, melodramatic music n' all, to an audience of one - me.

And the same words rolled around in my head like a broken record...

I'm extended family now. Me. Holy crap. What does that mean?

It meant, it was time to let go.

A strange calm came over me then. I knew that whatever happened, they were going to be alright.

They had each other. And I smiled.

Not only did they have each other, but soon they would develop working relationships with people in their chosen fields and become intangibly connected with some of them as well. (Just as close as family).

I believe that every time you get to know yourself better, (ie; everytime you grow - academically, through a crisis, or creatively), you become better acquainted with who you are and begin to draw from within the circle of your experiences more people with whom you resonate energetically than ever before.

And those are the closest relationships you will ever have. As close as family. They include girlfriends, siblings, lifers, and co-workers.

I have some like that. Now it was their turn.

This was the curve in the road I had never anticipated.

It also became the perfect opportunity for me to do some of the discovering I had put on the backburner all those years ago when raising a family and staying alive had become the only two priorities in my life.

(Self-awareness held a distant fourth, after number three which was trying to pick God's brain in an effort to understand the nature of suffering).

But I smiled that day.

A quiet smile that no one, save me, was privy to. It was a smile that came with a knowing that I was once again presented with a golden opportunity to work on myself and learn some of the things I had always wanted to learn and do - like write a book, go on a trip with friends and learn how to be a Princess.

Maybe even, fall in love. With the right guy this time.

And so once again, the quest began...

The Art of Letting Go - PART I - hindsight is so yesterday.

I should have written more this week but I find myself completely distracted by the Olympic games.

It happens every time they come on. I can't help it. They move me.

And I revisit how I would have loved to compete in my younger days. (Not now of course, unless I could convince the olympic committee to incorporate something like shuffleboard as an event. Then I might be convinced to train feverishly amid regular breaks of beer and nachos).

Not that I was anywhere near athletic perfection back then mind you - even in my prime (which was probably around fourteen). I wasn't even terribly athletic for that matter. And I could be oh so uncoordinated when attempting new activities.

Unfortunately, I was also fearless to the point of stupidity. (A characteristic my parents dutifully ignored because they figured I would eventually grow out of it.)

Little did they know this stubborness would simply transfer into other aspects of my life. But that is neither here, nor there. (Whatever that means).

But I digress...

In any case, when I was a young lass, a brash restlessness to test the boundaries of my limits overtook my more logical senses on a regular basis, resulting in a few injuries, all sustained before the age of 13; like crushing a couple of vertebrae together in my neck because I fell off a horse going over a fence I wasn't ready for, or flying off a mogul without any clue as to form and getting the tip of one ski practically stuck in my skull.

And of course, I ignored each and every injury, the extent of which I was blissfully ignorant upon receving, and repeated the exercise so as not to end the day on a negative note.

The Gods must have been on my side while no doubt shaking their heads at my complete indifference to the life they gave me. Good thing they had a sense of humour.

I'm still convinced I could have done it all back then.

If only... I had had a little focus.

But at the ripe young age of forty-something, I now know that hindsight is not only 20/20, but it's also so yesterday.

Interestingly enough, I have few regrets. As one athlete quipped earlier today, "everyone has their path, this was mine", (or something to that effect).

Being an olympic athlete was simply not part of mine.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Dreamers beware.

Shoulda, woulda coulda are three dirty little words, that when accompanied by the infamous 'if only' become a sour recipe for regret and its ensuing disease hindsightitis.

These are our worst enemies in the art of letting go. They hold us back from truly experiencing the wonders of life in the here and now.

I had other things to conquer in life, things to beat on a personal nature that can't be timed on a clock or gauged by a medal. As do most people.

And I still have many things to do that are as exciting to me as practicing for the olympics would be for a world-class athlete.

It's all relative.

Life is relative.

It's all about being good with where you are and what you're doing.

Accpeting the choices you've made (or forgiving yourself for some) as well accepting things for which you had no control but that affected your life anyway - whether you agreed to them or not... whether you like them or not...

And then there are choices you embark upon to make the necessary changes in your life that take you out of the comfort zone you've been used to - sometimes for the last twenty-five years.

But don't worry, Darwin was right. We're pretty good at evolving to accomodate our newer circumstances - bigger and better than ever.

Accepting, letting go, changing, living for the moment, and looking to the future with an open heart and mind.

That's the key.

These are all things you must do to keep from contracting 'hindsightitis' or 'regrettaphobia' and other unnamed diseases of the heart and mind that prevent you from living fully and enjoying every stage of your life for what it offers you in the form of love and learning.

So as I watch the olympic games and feel the adrenaline pound in my chest for every athlete whose hard work, heart ache, sacrifice and last minute injuries add to the drama and celebration of my own life, I am grateful, not regretful.

Grateful they exist to remind me of the joy of following your passion. Grateful to share in their experience and energy, because their courage only adds to my own.

Next - Part II...

"The Art of Being a Princess"

There it was, sitting at our table, beckoning...

... a plastic gold tiara, glistening beneath the dimmed fluorescent lights of another cheaply decorated ballroom of black balloons, silver stars, tacky tablecloths and cheap champagne served in plastic flute glasses.

It was New Year's Eve in the 'Peg.

And I was busy absolving myself of any lingering guilt associated with dragging my friends to this single senior's ball with promises of midnight kisses with smoldering hot, single guys.

In all honesty, the coordinator of these festivities did not lie to me about the age range: "about 25 to 75", he said.

What he failed to mention was that 90% of them were retired.

But none of that mattered now. My friends were drinking and having fun dancing with every geriatric well enough to ask them, while I sat and contemplated the theme of my coming year.

Every new year simply must have a theme.

And it has to be worded in such a way that you remember it.

Not a list of resolutions made to be broken within a month, but rather one, catchy phrase preceded by the starter statement:

This is the year that I... (fill in the blank).

Some examples might be:

"Get fit"
"Heal old wounds"
"Get laid"

or in my case...

"Become a Princess!"

However, given that manifesting principles dictate that all statements must be placed in the here and now to be effective, (as there is nothing other than the present moment), the catch phrase:

I Am a Princess

... was born.

Earlier that evening, my Columbian friend L, had chosen a different theme. This year, she was going to "surrender to da Universe".

"I have faith dat Got knows best", she said with the solemn determination of a newly ordained priest.

(When I looked at her I thought I detected a faint halo, but it was probably hair product). "Say what?" I said, distracted by the glow around her head.

"Yes", she responded with dignity, tempered with a sexy Spanish accent a la Salma Hayek and a fiery beauty to match;

"Dis year, I ham going to surrender to da universe and embrace de unfolding of life."

She looked at me and smiled serenely, at peace with herself and all that is, was, and ever will be. All this, coming from a woman forced to escape her country of birth after a life-threatening stint as a prosecuting attorney sent her packing.

I admired her without reservation. But I couldn't compete with her resoution.

"What about you?" she asked.

I hesitated, knowing I was about as far removed from a similar answer as a Pygmy tribe in Africa was to having Inuit relatives in the Arctic tundra.

But she knew me. And she never, ever judged. So I was safe.

"This year I'm gonna spoil myself to the point of no return." I said with my arms crossed daring some invisible audience - the Gods maybe - to convince me otherwise.

Just let 'em try, I thought, L wasn't the only one who attended law school.

"Good for you!" she said, without missing a beat, "you deserve it!"

Ya gotta love the sisterhood.

So there we were a few hours later, in a ballroom setting capable of putting all redneck family reunion decorations to shame, and I was faced with the TIARA. It was my moment of truth.

I pulled my hair back and put it on.

It had a strange power over me, this tiara. As the plastic teeth gripped the sides of my carefully coiffed hair, I suddenly felt my back straighten just a little and my chin tilt up just a tad - enough to give me an air of royal dignity and scare anyone away unworthy of my attentions.

Either that or it was my attitude.

But no matter! I had embraced my inner princess and God help anyone who tried to take the title away from me! I was no longer the runner-up in this game called life! I was a winner!

-----
As the weeks passed and I returned to my life substitute teaching, evidence of this theme cropped up randomly as reminders of my aspirations this year.

One day I subbed in a kindergarten class and the teacher had left specific instructions to make TIARAS with the children who were having a TEA PARTY on Friday in celebration of the letter "T".

How perfect.

I donned the sample Tiara, told the children they could either call me Ms. A or Queen A but that "I preferred the latter".

I wore it all morning and was forced to repeat the exercise with the afternoon class.

By the time we were done, I had my own Tiara with more gold and silver sprinkles than there were stars in the desert night sky.

Another day, I subbed at a school that was having a 'hat day'. The secretary wore a fabulous tiara.

When I said to her, "I want your tiara", she replied, "You can't have it. Only special people get to wear them."

Indeed they do, I thought, and smiled coyly knowing I was destined for such an honor.

By now, the tiara syndrome had embedded its way into my brain and I no longer needed the crutch of a fake one to get me through the day.

I had learned about the tiara syndrome from another grade one class. When they had 'choice time' at the end of the day, a group of girls chose to draw.

They all drew princesses.

When I asked them, "Who is that?" they all replied, "That's ME!"

But of course! This was an A-HA moment if there ever was one.

I began to notice a pattern...

In every elementary class I taught, whenever the girls were given free time to draw, one group always chose to draw princesses. The rest did some variation of butterflies, trees or small, furry animals (while the boys did trucks and guns I might add, but that's another story).

My conclusion?

EVERY girl has an inner princess.

Now, at the age of... comfortable... I was finally finding mine.

The only difference between me and them, was that I wasn't waiting for my Prince Charming anymore. If he shows up, SUPER. And if he doesn't, that's cool too. No one's carriage is turning into a pumpkin in this story anytime soon.

With my vow to be a princess, I made myself responsible for every act that came my way. EVERY ACTION and every REACTION.

Don't kid yourself. None of these self-contracts come without a little work.

I had to work on myself. I had to feel worthy.

Every, single, day.

That was the catch. Not always easy when you've spent a lifetime thinking you have to work harder than everyone else to be loved and adored; that nothing comes for free. And then you have the kind of relationships that prove this false theory over and over again.

Not good.

But this year, I am going to treat myself the way I had always imagined it would feel like to be doted upon and adored.

As this is something I had failed to experience in my love life, I thought it was high time I set the bar myself and see what it felt like...

...in all aspects of my life.

From now on, I would buy the good cheese (even if it wasn't on sale), quality dark chocolate to keep in my freezer and nibble on when times were tough, fresh flowers for my living room, the perfect jeans (even if they cost me a day's work), and maybe even that trip to California I had been wanting to do for years.

As it turns out, that was the first thing I booked.

After all, if I don't think I'm a princess, then I will justifiably spend my sit-com life as the runner-up in my own story.

And it'll be a cold day in L.A. before I play that rerun again.

So here goes nothing :)

Good-bye to the Six Month Experiment - Hello to a few months more

Life, Love and the Art of Dreaming Big

That's the new blog title. Okay, it was. After taking a survey and getting some emails, I was reminded that one blog was probably enough. So I've decided to add to this one.

Chances are, I will take a break before writing my first post. (Which it turns out, I did)...

On Saturday, I leave for L.A. where I will be visiting my friend Jim for a week of surf n' turf. (Surfing the beaches n' boardwalks, while turfing this minus 30 degree weather).

So I may have to post from the Cal-I-for-NI-A.

How could I not have a good story or two about breakfast at the Fig Tree restaurant with some of Jim's film buddies?

I'll be positively bursting at the seams to share.

And if you haven't checked out Jim's blog, please do so - it's just been named one of the top 50 movie blogs by MovieMaker magazine.

This accolade will be officially announced at Sundance. That's quite an honor.

TRAVEL DAY is about pulling together an indie film and is filled with all kinds of behind the scenes look at making movies (mostly in Hollywood, both past and present).

Top 50.

That's not too shabby for a guy from Swan River who followed his dreams...

Speaking of which...

Here's a quick Six Month review and wrap-up before I say good-bye to this chapter.

What I accomplished and learned in the Six Month Experiment covering the main areas of focus:

1. finances, 2. career, 3. relationships: friends and family/love interests, 4. community-minded work (ie; giving back), 5. physical health, 6. personal, and 7. the 'fun factor'.

1. finances.

My income is the same. I'm a sub. And though my income is lower compared to those of my beloved colleagues with teaching contracts, in my humble opinion, (for my lifestyle), it's better.

Herein lies the relative income factor compared to absolute income. (see Tim Ferris' work).

I have no prepping, no marking, no grading, no report cards, no meetings, no politics, and no stress (unless you're one of those people who can't handle 6 am calls to sub in a school where you might want to bring ear plugs and a bodyguard).

But I'm cool with that.

Because at the end of the day when the bell rings, I go home and have no lingering obligations, no guilt, and whatever stress I might have had during the day, disappears like Houdini.

I equate more freedom - whether it's psychological or physical - as a positive example of the benefits of relative income. Besides, I work fewer hours, no weekends, and don't supervise extra-curricular activities.

When it comes right down to it, broken down to an hourly wage, I might actually make the same.

What did I learn?

That my quality of life is extremely important to me. More than money (once the basics are looked after).

And it's not something I will ever give up again for a few bucks more. (A million maybe, but not a few). And even then...

2. career.

On my transition to becoming a self-employed writer...

I wrote a book. Got an agent. It was officially sent to publishers on January 25, 2010 for consideration.

Things are looking up.

What did I learn?

Perseverance and patience.

That nobody owes you anything. And that you can't want something so much that it makes you miserable. Life is not about waiting, it's about being.

All you can do is work for what you want, pray like hell, and then let it go.

3. relationships: friends and family/love interests.

"Love interests" a.k.a. that 'significant other' potential remains an elusive proposition in spite of my being open-minded (and attempting some interesting date options).

I'm constantly swaying between hope and nope!

I am officially off Match.com and will attempt to work on myself a little more this spring - both in the daring department and allowing the possibility of something good to happen (as I was almost convinced otherwise).

For now, being single is a choice I embrace because I want to, not because I have to. There are lots of fish in the sea. (Trust me ladies, the possibilities are endless).

As for relations with friends and family? Better than ever. Partly because I have learned to establish some boundaries for personal space and address a problem more quickly when something is bothering me.

For example, I say "No" when my tank is empty and now do for others when I want to, not because it's part of my call to duty.

What did I learn?

Just because you say 'no' doesn't mean people will love you any less. Most people would rather you gave of yourself authentically than out of obligation. Matter of fact, it improves relations.

Just because you're choosing to stay single doesn't mean you're giving up on love - you're just taking a break from trying.

Just because you've been disappointed and it feels like that knife in your chest is there for good, it isn't.

That old feeling can come back in an instant.

Before you know it, you'll be necking in the front seat of a car like you did when you were sixteen and you'll thank God he built the human body with enough lust-induced intoxicating features that it makes tequila shots look like child's play.

It's all good...

4. community-minded work (ie; giving back) I can't honestly say I've done anything differently yet in this regard that I haven't always done.

I make a conscious effort to treat every individual with dignity, respect and non-judgement. As for the 'bigger picture'? I have yet to figure that out (and where) I need to extend myself when the time comes.

And it will come.

5. physical health

I went to the gym religiously. I got really sick. I stopped going. I'll be picking up where I left off after my vacation. And I forgive myself for my unpredictable hiatus.

I don't diet anymore. I'm simply changing my eating habits for life. As a result, I feel better, I'm just a little leaner, but I'm becoming happier dans ma peau (ie; in my own skin) as the author of "French Women Don't Get Fat" would say.

Which by the way, is a book I recommend to all women.

What did I learn?

You can't rush healing. And you have to honor your body in the process, not be mad at it for not fixing itself more quickly. After all, most of it is still working magically, there's just one part fighting like hell (on your behalf I might add), to get better. Respect it. How could you not?

And - being healthy is a process, not a goal.

6. personal

Well, I'm not fluent in Spanish as I had hoped, but it's still on my list.

I have however, begun to meditate (sometimes successfully and at other times, it's like a big joke). But I also finally realize the benefits I will receive if I at least attempt to do it on a regular basis.

I'm working on myself.

Whatever 'blocks' I had to my success - both personal and career-wise - bit me like a rattler when I was sick. Except there was no tail-shaking to warn me. It just showed up when I was at my weakest physically so I was forced to deal with it.

And it wasn't pretty.

What did I learn?

You can only ignore how you really feel about yourself (deep down inside) for so long. Sooner or later, it will affect you no matter how good you are at denial. (And believe me, I was the Queen of Da Nile).

So deal with it. If you don't, I guarantee your own subconscious will eventually paint you into a corner so you can.

7. the 'fun factor'.

I have had more fun with this experiment and in my social life this year, than I have had in a long time. Maybe ever.

It's a combination of maturation, stability, and being open to all possibilities.

I'm going to California. And I will plan at least one more big vacation this year, though the goal is four per year. One every season. I think that's reasonable.

What did I learn?

That the happier I am, the happier are those around me.

And although it sometimes feels that doing things for myself is a selfish act, it's quite the opposite. Because it reminds people that true love begins with the self.

Final thoughts...

Being joyful is infectious.

Having dreams fuels your life.

Working on them gives voice to your days.

Remember: Live well, love fully and always dream big.

See you on the next blog...

p.s. many thanks to my regular readers and Jim for his continued support...

as for my AP... well... sista, I could not have done it without you... xox

Bigger is not necessarily better... neither is having more

And I'm not just talking about food.

I remember my mom's reaction when my dad presented her with the idea that he was going to buy a 5,000 square foot house.

"Why? So I can spend even more time cleaning"?

I was twelve at the time and thought, 'What is she talking about'? But that wasn't fair because I was allergic to cleaning and wandered off whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself. I'll clean my room if you can find me hiding in the neighborhood. Good luck with that.

Besides, I wanted to spend as little time at home as possible. It was a toxic environment.

As for that big house my dad wanted? He got it.

But what he should have done is spent his money on a good marriage counsellor, personal therapy for both, and anti-depressants for mom.

Either that, or a good lawyer - you know, before buying shiny new things that only served to cover deeper problems that weren't going anywhere.

True to form, they divorced a few years later. And it wasn't pretty.

Having more, being more, doing more...

All these things are great but they are often things we do to get away from other things - like problems that should be addressed first - before we move on to 'bigger and better things'.

It's a must.

If you don't, sooner or later like a flock of vampires, these issues come out of the dark and puncture holes in your life and it all comes oozing out on that brand new hardwood floor you worked so hard to pay for - whether you like it or not.

And it's like that with other things.

Take love for instance.

If, when it comes to love (starting with your mom) you have experienced nothing but rejection, you may falsely associate love with being rejected.

If you have to work really hard at getting your parents to like you (ie; if you don't get straight A's in school, you're dirt), then chances are you will also associate love with having to work for it.

That's going to make being in a partnership really stressful.

Or it's going to make you choose someone who constantly rejects you as part of a stimulus-response package that you, yourself have programmed into this relationship because it's part of your subconscious programming on love.

But no matter how much you do for the other person, it will never be enough.

Because you don't understand that just being yourself is enough for true love. You're in a falsely programmed belief system.

So you revisit the unhealthy version, over and over and over again until you die. alone. in a rocking chair. beside an empty one covered with dust.

(Ahem)

Now take success. (After all, this is suppose to be about a Six Month Experiment to change my luck from bad to good).

If every time you tried to do something and it didn't work out: you ran out of money, circumstances changed that put a stop to it, ie; 'close but no cigar' every single time, sooner or later, a detrimental belief system would embed its way into your subconscious.

Whatever confidence you had about 'making it' would slowly be eaten away by a sea of maggots making their fat little way into that original, positive belief system about being worthy enough to secure the destiny for which you were born.

(Ahem)

And the only way to get them out is with tweezers.

One fat, little maggot at a time.

So while I was ill, I got in there and did some house-cleaning. (Or maggot-plucking as it were).

I examined every belief system I had about myself - true or false - and sought to eradicate the crappy ones with ones that would better serve me.

It's one thing to say positive things over and over and over again, but believing and knowing are two different things. I might believe that I'm worthy of true love and a successful life, but do I KNOW it?

And if I don't KNOW it, then no matter what I do, it won't work. Or if it does, it will only be temporary. Like my dad's shiny new house. And then it'll all come crashing down like a house of cards (with holes in it from vampires and maggots).

So the better part of my last six weeks has been spent eradicating what DOESN'T work and no longer serves me using some (I hope) effective methods.

Meditating was one of them. The rest, I will discuss another time.

Now, when I hit 'critical mass' and things start to shift in the direction I've been planning and working towards all my life, it won't all come crashing down.

And given that a good chunk of this six month experiment was spent examining and working through old, false belief systems to better prepare for this year, I think I might have to extend this experiment...

... For a Few Months More...