The sky gets me. The sky is me.

 

 

“The sky is always there for me as my life has been going through many, many changes. When I look up at the sky, it gives me a nice feeling, like looking at an old friend.”   ~ Yoko Ono

 

Yoko gets it. This sky you speak of? It is mine too. It is yours too, whomever you are taking in the words of this blog. Some things in life we can rely on to remain. Sure as the sun rises each day the enormous presence of the sky will stay. 

When all else fails me, when I have no idea what to expect, when the things I expect fail to follow through I always look up. My eyes go up, my head falls back and my lungs expand. One two three, like a process that has become like second nature to me. This sky of mine, it is the one constant that I know gets me. It is my peace, my hope, my push and my cure. It is the guardian of my memories and the keeper of my secrets. The witness to my greatest joys and the silent companion during my deepest sorrows. The one I look up to to remind me that it will all be ok. Sometimes that “being ok” took far longer than expected, but the sky stayed with me every day of the journey. It remained. 

Every answer we need to know can be found within the clouds. If only for allowing our mind to settle, melt into the zone of a meditative state to open up our mind so that the answers can fall into place. The answers are always up there in that big expansive universe.

The sky casts no judgment upon me, even though I have looked up and cursed it as much as I have thanked it. It stays with me through it all. We are one of the same after all. Sometimes a roller coaster of emotions, sometimes a soft steady whisper. Hot and cold, calm and fierce, the sky gets me because it is me.

The sky is my friend just as Yoko says. The sky lets me know it’s ok to release emotion, blow up like a storm, roar like the thunder, be dark and stormy, brazen and careless, and still it remains. I remain. I stay steady. I return. I can be shiny and gloomy, calm or moody. I am an ever-changing wind and just like the weather, at times I am unpredictable. It’s ok though. The sky gets me, the sky is me.

Through the pitter patter of rain on my rooftop and the glare of sunshine through my sunroof, it follows me everywhere, by my side this sky of mine. It doesn’t give up, it keeps on keeping on because doing anything other than giving it all you got every day is not an option. I like that inspiration. That’s gumption, bravery, and stamina all in one. That’s me. Me, myself and the sky.

Just Be

As I look out the window and see the rain sliding down the window glass and the gray skies hang low over my rooftop I can’t help but think about the difference in time, in weather, in overall emotion that transcends from one state to another. The leaves on the trees are actually shivering by the way. Shaking. The wind is ripping through them with an abusive type of fury that gives me goose bumps just by watching them.

I have my sweat pants on, a hot coffee casting a sweet little steam over my computer screen, and if it weren’t for this epic sun burn splayed across my chest I’d be wrapped up in my heated blanket as I work away.

Arizona does something to me. It opens my soul and relaxes my mind. It makes me ponder everything. Maybe that’s why when I got back last year I decided I was going to quit my job. Sometimes you don’t know you’re stressed until you’re not and it was an eye opening realization that I was holding onto something heavy that once it lifted I couldn’t put that back on my shoulders. I have felt lighter ever since. But now I feel lighter still and I am thinking even more about what the future holds.

When you wake up to the sound of owls and birds and an open blue sky with a sunrise that seems to glow right through me, it affects you. Breathing in air that is warm right down to my belly and having birds walk right up to your hand connects you. I feel like the lines between humanity and nature combine and become one in Scottsdale Arizona. Relaxation comes when there is no fear, no worry, and no time to care. The bunnies aren’t even scared out there. They just hop along with their fuzzy tails as if to say “this sidewalk is as much mine as it is yours.” I found myself smiling without realizing that I was. Happiness is effortless. Zen is all around you.

And then there’s the spa. The Well & Being spa at the Scottsdale Princess embodies total and utter relaxation and spending the day there made me decompress even more. They don’t allow any cell phones or electronic devices. It was magical. I turned off the cell phone and slipped on the plush robe and just sat with my thoughts for hours. The rooftop pool had trickling waterfalls, tall palms,  and chirping birds. The sunshine on my body and the soothing sounds that enveloped me was all I needed for hours on end. I stared at the palm trees and sat in the exotic garden and just let my mind exist with its thoughts. That kind of mediation is golden.  I got massaged with a sugar scrub, sat in a eucalyptus inhalation room while sipping on prickly pear lemonade and let my thoughts melt. I’m a deep thinker and find that the best answers are brought to me in the moments when I don’t have to think.

There is something to be said about allowing yourself to “just be.” This is when the magic happens. Maybe the sun and the birds and the smells of my vacation aren’t that far away, and even though I’m looking out onto a cold day with muddy grass and the sounds of my keyboard tapping away again I still have that feeling inside of me and I can tap into it anytime I want. I need to unplug the technology and reconnect the ME. I need to rediscover who I am and what I want and when I close my eyes and feel the sunshine inside of me and take my heart back to where it felt most vibrant, the answers will keep coming.

A Resolution in Time

I love all the optimism that comes with the New Year don’t you? Everybody seems to be in this “out with the old, in with the new” hyped up eagerness with a “ta hell with 2016, 2017 is going to be sooooo much better” attitude. The treadmills are all taken at the gym, and everyone has a fierce determination to improve something one way or another. Let’s better ourselves! YaY!

 It’s the same thing, every year. But can one year ever truly top the next? It’s the same with age. Every year you think you’ve finally reached this pivotal point of, “Aha, now I get it. Now my life is in order!” and then 5 years later you think, “wow, I can’t believe I thought I knew it all back then. What the hell was I thinking?”

Time changes things. Time changes us. A change of a date is one micro millisecond in time. It doesn’t matter much, yet its impact is monumental in force once the last numbers change on that 365 day countdown. It is a page turned, a page burned. A start of a new calendar and a shredding of another. It is hope. It is relief. Sometimes it’s a raise of the middle finger to the past and a popping of a champagne bottle to the future. A hallelujah to a big ol’ “here we go again.”

It is a breath of fresh air. But only if you want it to be.  Akin to everything else in life it is what you, and only YOU make it out to be. Why can’t every day be a new start for us? If we want to make a change, then make it. I once thought resolutions were back-up plans for those people who couldn’t accomplish goals. The only obligation being to yourself and if you fail mid-way through, oh-well you gave it nice shot. You know how many times I tried to give up sugar? I’d announce it to all my co-workers and refuse their gifts of chocolate stating, “I don’t do that anymore.” Then a week or two later they’d be confused as to why I was digging my hand into the toffee popcorn as if it was totally normal.

Instead I take baby steps to improvement. I shop less and give more. I spend less time critiquing and more time complementing. I try to replace every bad thought with two good ones (try it!Ok I kind of suck at that one) When I do good I feel good and life is sporadic and curve-balls are unplanned so one cannot say what they will or won’t want to do at any given day in any given moment because time changes. We change with it.

I try to exist only in the present. I spend a ton of time just thinking because the most valuable thing in my life right now, the thing I appreciate the most and that I never knew could feel so enjoyable is “time.” I embrace it more than I knew was possible.

I went through an actual phase of guilt for being able to enjoy the time that has now been available to me since I quit my full time position 8 months ago. I felt guilty for being able to not set an alarm clock. Guilty for not having to give 110% of myself in exchange for a paycheck. Guilty for being able to do what I want when I want. You know when they say “time is money.” It is. You can look at it in so many ways but the way I see it being able to have time in exchange for a paycheck makes me wealthy in spirit instead of dollar bills and to me that’s what matters more. I am rich in spirit. Money is nice, but it’s a good lesson for the soul to learn how easily you can adapt to having less of it. You feel more connected to who you are and what you want. You are your true self because you don’t have to be anybody else to appease the expectations of others. Time has taught me this.

So forget the resolutions. Make a constant vow, a forever affirmation that you will become one with time. It is always on your side so embrace it. Roll with it. Change with it. And always, no matter good day or bad toast to it. Cheers to time.

Christmas Trees and Memories

The holidays = emotional times. All levels. All ages. All ways.

It just is. Whether it's the heightened anticipation of seeing loved ones that only come around this time of year or the heavy ache that weighs you down because of those you'll never see again. Emotions seem to rush into high gear before the first fallen snow and then they settle in until it all melts away. Whether it feels like a block of ice that is lodged in your chest or a soft ember of thankfulness, 'tis the season for feelings. And they hit us from all angles.

I have to blog at Christmas time. I can't let the season slip by without a little emotional discharge otherwise I'll find myself victim to crying episodes that spark out of nowhere (well that happens regardless) and suddenly mass order chocolates from Harry & David simply because I saw their magazine in the mailbox...and why not?

But Christmas. Back to Christmas. The whole massive thing of it. I hear people talk about how they like it or hate it and why. I try to accept the things I cannot change and Christmas my dear, is here to stay. I have loved this holiday since I was a child. I mean if you're going to have to deal with frozen toes and wearing those god-awful moon boots we may as well get a reward for it! Give me the hope for that new Barbie doll being under the tree and I was willing to put up with just about anything....

Back to Christmas. Why do I really feel so fondly about this time of year? 

It's simple. I was one of the fortunate ones. A child who was given the effortless gift of not having anyone ruin my view of it. I associated Christmas literally with "all things happy and bright" and was blessed to be brought up in a home that gave that me nothing short of joy around Christmas time. My memories are my feelings and it seems to have been locked in pretty early on that Christmas is a time of happiness. It didn't take much to be honest. My parents were who they were and did what they did without realizing the impact it would have. Their imperfectness and simple way of doing things was etching memories to be carried on through my lifetime. The greatest gift they gave was never showing me a single reason to not love Christmas. Christmas in my Mother’s eyes was beautiful and special and fun and there was no other way about it. Disliking this holiday never appeared to be an option. It was that easy.

My parents weren't so much traditional as they were routine. Every year it was similar and every year it was wonderful. A huge highlight was how we all went as a family to get a "real" Christmas tree. I don't know how on earth some of those trees made it in the house being 3 times the size of the door frame but thankfully my Dad is a determined man.  Looking back now I realize why Mom stored all the ornaments way down in the basement and we weren't to go find them until the exact moment when Dad was trying to get the tree in. No doubt there were some “naughty” words that would escape during this tree ordeal and Mom wanted us out of earshot. I do recall wondering why my Dad kept referring to our tree as a "son of a bitch" and somehow knowing that was not a type of pine...

I just wanted him to get the damn thing in the stand, determine exactly what part looked full enough to be showcased in front and then make it stay upright long enough to deem it fit for decorating. And that was the BEST part. The multi colored big bulbs, the ornaments from years past, that odd looking angel in the red dress, and oh the smells of Christmas came to life. The woodsy tree mixed with the fireplace burning... cookies in the oven... it was all heaven and I can feel it like it was yesterday.

And then there were the cookies. Every year the same. Every year it was wonderful. The sugar cookies were the most fun. We would take turnings passing around Mom's premixed bowls of colored frosting and make a complete mess (on purpose of course) so we could lick our fingers. Germs don't count at Christmas time. The smell warm sugar coming out of the oven makes my belly happy. It's the memories. The simpleness.

Back to Christmas. It was wonderful. Every year. Simply because it wasn't not wonderful. I don’t recall a single bad memory involving Christmas. No family fights. No going between homes or fighting about gifts. No worries. I was lucky that my parents were together and we were a family. I woke up in the same bed in the same brown house in the same small town every Christmas morning throughout my entire childhood. I'd go to sleep with the same anticipation and wake up with the same excitement on Christmas day for years. It was bliss, pajamas full of static and all. And as long as there were enough mashed potatoes to go around and enough cookies to take you through the new year, we had all we needed to be happy. I never knew it to be any other way and had no idea how that ordinary life was in its own way extraordinary. 

I will always reflect back on memories around the holidays. The beautiful ones take center stage. I think of my Mom constantly. Her smile. Her bright blue eyes.  I miss her in a way where the very thought of her face makes my eyes sting and my heart throb and then the tears…. As if on cue drip down my cheeks. There’s always sadness mixed with joy! Holidays = emotional times, remember?! To me she was part of the reason Christmas is so wonderful. She made it so. I will continue to look at it fondly in honor of her. Every year Christmas will come and every year it will be wonderful. I won’t have it any other way.

There's a place I like to go...

There’s a place I like to go

Where the sun is always setting

And the sky forever glows

Orange diamonds shimmer and play

Across blue waters

the spark melts me away

Soft white sand hugs my gentle toes

Heart is open

Legs toasty, the energy flows

No hurt no worry no hands of time

No matter the day

No need to rewind

The world is hushed, thoughts cease to exist

Just me and myself

Alone. That’s it.

The only sound is water and waves

An open breeze

Seagulls calling their praise

The sky is vibrant and soft like a dream

Blistering pink, Baby blue

Lilac dusted with cream

This place I go can’t be found by you

It has no map

No roads no rules

It lives behind the lid of my eye

In my heart it awakens

In my mind it lies

It appears at will, one blink and I’m there

Gives me hope, lifts me up

Fills my lungs with new air.

In and out the waves roll on

Quieting the mind

Through this endless song

I come and go from this magical place

Warming my soul

Giving the mind new space.

Blink away life and sail away

Release what doesn't matter

Let energy lead the way

There’s a place I like to go

A place that no one knows

It is a secret just for me

That can only exist…..

When my own eyes dream.

39 and feelin' fine

Even though there is a 10 year difference between 29 and 39 I still feel like I should be part of the latter. When I hit 30 I couldn’t believe I was actually THIRTY, it sounded ancient. 

I was so naïve.

I will always feel like I’m in my late 20’s energy-wise. I don’t think I look 39 but then again, what the hell does 39 look like. We are all of different genetics and lifestyles so who can predict what an appearance should be at a particular age?

I’m cool. Cool doesn’t age.

I will always be a sucker a new pair of shoes, never slow to adorning the hottest trends to rock the runway. I’m a fashion magnet. Your body is your temple right? So we should decorate it and give it the respect it deserves. Whether that comes in the form of healthy food for our bones or 5" heels for our toes.

I feel perpetually youthful. I don’t feel 39. Not that 39 is old, it just feels uncertain. Not solid. Teetering. Tip toeing up to some sort of last hurrah but peeking back over the shoulder of nostalgia.

But 39 it is and I shall own it like I own everything else in life beyond my control. Throwing my hands up, head tilted to the side, wide eyed and optimistic. It is what it is so lets roll with it.

That being said, this is not a whiny blog, nor is it an I can’t beeee-lieeeeeve I’m so oooooold blog. No no no.  This is just me, up at 6 a.m. on my birthday, sipping coffee from my new BUNN coffee pot (b-day gift #1 from my mother-in-law) awaiting my flood of birthday wishes to wash over me via facebook and enjoying the gloomy after-affects of last nights storm. 39 came in with bang guys, lightning, thunder, the works. Or perhaps 38 wouldn’t leave without a fight? Hung on to every tree branch with both fists until the wind finally beat the hell out of it and left a tattered mess of tipped over lawn chairs and flowers without petals. Either way, my hands are up, head tilted…owning it optimistically. 39. So far so good.

What is this blog about? Is there a point? Does there have to be a point to a blog? There isn’t a point to age either so goes the cliché that “age is just a number.” Do we keep track just so we have something legit to carve onto a headstone? Is old age a goal? I always felt the wisdom one gains on their life journey held more adoration than “so and so is now 103 years old…” Well, what have they learned? What did they offer to the world? Those are the things that matter. Not the birthdays you tally up but the lessons you’ve learned along the way. I could blog about the top lessons I learned in the past year but it’s been a “record year” for me and this blog would be a novel in no time.

Instead why don’t I just sit back and be thankful the day is mine to do with what I please. It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in a very long time. I am comfortable. I have made some big changes during my 38^th year of life that will alter my future in a way where the age 39 is almost guaranteed to be my most memorable age to date. It’s all uphill from here. This I know for sure.

So here I am. 39 and feeling fine. Isn’t there some song about “put your hands in the air and wave ‘em like ya just don’t care….”

That’s where I’m at. With rings on my fingers and bells on my toes. Where she goes….no one knows. 

I'm 39 and feelin' fine. This is my year and now is my time.

The Fly Swatter debacle

A fly-swatter.

That is all I needed. One item. I am going to walk into Target,no basket or cart necessary and grab this one single fly-swatter and walk back out. That was the plan.

I walk in. Briskly. Eyes straight ahead. On a mission for a fly-swatter. But where oh where would one be placed? It's an insect, it's annoying. It needs to go away. It would be by the ant killer, mouse traps, rodent spray...yes. Where would that aisle be? Ah-ha there it is. Eyes go up and down and all around. No swatter here.

Hmmm.... guess I'll just comb a few aisles and see if I can find it.

This is where the trouble starts. Oh? Clearance items at the end of the aisle here? Well....I do need some nail polish remover. Oh? Sale? What's this buy 3 get one free over here? OK I'll just grab a little basket since they're so conveniently placed at the end of every aisle....

Fly swatter. I still need this. Would it be by camping items? People probably need a swatter in their pop-up, bet those flies are annoying in a tent right?! That's where they will be! Found the section, found no swatter in sight. Had to pass through the grocery section to get to the camping section and my basket has now turned into a cart and suddenly I'm buying a new brand of granola bar, but hey it's organic and non-GMO so what the hell. Now that I have my cart in tow I may as well text the hubby and see if he needs anything..... My cart fills up and my will power goes down.

Where is the damn fly swatters in this joint?! Is this some sort of trick? A hunting game? Are they discreetly hidden in the very back corner of the store surrounded by impulse buys and shit that's on sale but I have no need for but I'm a sucker for a deal so.... And where the hell are all the red shirted people asking me if I'm finding everything ok?! They are no where in sight! I bet they're by the fly-swatters.....

I finally see a red shirt in the distance and lightly jog over. "Hey! I have combed this store from top to bottom, please tell me you know where the fly-swatters are." He does. Score! I happily trot after him curious to see where this hidden gem could be....what aisle are you hiding in?

Kitchen supplies. Huh? I said "So the fly swatters are by the can openers and slotted spoons?" I mean, I know the fly swatter is shaped a bit like a spatula although they have entirely different purposes. Do people think flies only set up residence in the kitchen? Because my particular annoyance of the moment has been buzzing around the master bath for 3 days straight and has been playing ping pong with his head in the light fixture I'm sure of it.

He says he knows the fly swatters are here. He's in a red shirt and khakis so I trust him. Our eyes are in unison trying to find the needle in the haystack here. Colanders, forks, oven mitts, no swatter. He pulls a gadget out of his back pocket and starts punching buttons. I envision him typing in "WHERE THE F*#K ARE THE FLY SWATTERS" as that is the only thought in my head at this point and the fact that my frozen items are probably melting....

"Oh. That's why," he chimes. "We're out." Out. Out? OUT?! How can one be out of stock in flyswatters?! They should be dangling from the ceiling at this time of year! They should be hanging from those little strips at the end of every aisle. They should be by the gum at check-out and peeking out from behind boxes of tampons and bags of Cheetos. But they are not, they are stone cold out-of-stock.

Do you realize that I now have a cart full of unnecessary items and 30 minutes of invested time under my belt? A $2 purchase that should have taken 2 minutes has turned into me using an actual cart and grabbing things strategically placed to practically jump aboard the red wheeled money maker without a coupon in sight?

I think I rambled some of these thoughts out loud as he smiled kindly and backed away as a fly came out of nowhere and started flaunting a victory around his head like a halo.

A whispering bzzzzbzzzzz singing it's praises in the air. Cocky little suckers aren't they? I could only shake my head at the little fly guy and push my cart of "the plan that came undone" to check-out.

A fly-swatter. One thing. It was all I needed and yet the only thing I left without. They should have a sign at the entry that says "Check your will power at the door" and an even bigger sign out front that says "WE ARE OUT OF FLY SWATTERS"for which I then would have spun around, went back to the car and drove home. Free of frustration, no money spent and no time wasted. I would have then seen that the fly who was driving me batty had died peacefully on my bathroom counter-top. Maybe it was a brain injury from banging his head on the light-bulb. Maybe he fried himself in it. Maybe he was old. One can only speculate.

Nonetheless the swatter can wait another day....