This morning I was thinking about a Navajo woman I met last week with the last name of "Mike". What the heck? Wanting to learn more about the background of her very common name, I asked about her background. Come to learn it was common practice for the U.S. Calvary to bequeath their first names such as Mike, Henry, George-whatever as surnames to individuals in her Navajo nation. I was embarrassed and a bit outraged of yet another humiliation inflicted by the "white man" while attempting to strip these Native Americans of their national pride and heritage. I suppose it could be seen as a way to pledge allegiance to a new nation and create a new identity, but Mike...come on- what kind of heritage is that? It just seems like your name should reflect where you came from and where you want to go, or more importantly, what you want to be. We want to honor our names, respect our heritage and continue the legacy.
I treasure my last name O'Malley. I love my dad. I'm grateful for my genetics-the good characteristics, even some of the bad traits tie me to him and help me remember him. While doing family history I give preferential treatment to my ancestors bearing that surname or at least I seem to have more fervor learning about my Irish roots. I don't have to be Native American to identify with the concept of "my people." Summertime is a great season for family reunions and I continue to feel the power of gathering together with my people and feeling the strength and support stemming from family identity.
Today we conclude our celebration of Pioneer Day here in Utah. It's a big deal. People in Utah have all sorts of reasons to break out the fireworks. The celebration is prolonged when it falls on a Sunday, making it "necessary" to celebrate the day before and after the Sabbath. As part of this celebration I'm participating in a 5K Temple to Temple Run/Walk. It's only fitting that we do some time of trek to honor our pioneers. The little running bib says, "Today is dedicated to the memory of ...." I wrote the name of my aunt who recently passed away after having her leg amputated. A couple of years ago, she expressed a desire for the temple work to be completed for her father even though she was not a member of the church. I honor her today. She is a modern day pioneer and I'm sure she's trekking with 2 good legs now.
Yesterday I had our choir "trek" around the picnic tables in the pavilion as we practiced our little pioneer song we're singing next week. The lyrics are worth memorizing and internalizing.
"We left our home, to come to earth, we're working to pass the test. We're learning of our true worth, with faith we'll do our best. When Satan's winds will rattle, we will overcome. We're trekking through life's battles and we won't stop till we've won. We will endure to the end. Our Heavenly Father will protect and blessing he will send, until we conquer this trek."
As I learn of my true worth, I rely on my Heavenly heritage. No one can strip me of my true identity-where I came from-who I am. It may be hidden but the genetic material is still there-waiting to be uncovered. Pres. Uchtdorf stated in April conference:
"The fundamental divinity of our nature remains. And the moment we choose to incline our heart to our beloved Savior, and set foot upon the path of discipleship, something miraculous happens. The love of God fills our heart, the light of truth fills our minds, and we start to lose the desire to sin, and we do not want to walk any longer in darkness. We come to see obedience not as a punishment but as a liberating path of our divine destiny. And gradually, the corruption, dust, and limitations of this earth begin to fall away. Eventually, the priceless, eternal spirit of the heavenly being within us is revealed, and the radiance of goodness become our nature. "
I'm grateful for the opportunity to take upon the name of Christ every week. I'm grateful for covenant names associated with temple worship. These names are fitting of our heritage-much more glorious than any kind of "Mike" surname.
Monday, July 25, 2016
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Spa Robe Coverage
This morning I was thinking about spa robes and being covered. During my 2 days of being stranded at LAX last week, my airline put us up for a night's stay in a pretty fancy hotel. For me, a hotel is "fancy" when everything appears to be brand new, ultra modern and there is a white Egyptian Cotton spa rope hanging up in the closet. Feeling a little beat up from the airport, I was all over that action. I took an insanely long hot shower with the massage shower head, used every drop of the free toiletries, tenderly put lotion all over my tired body, covered up in the white robe and slippers and plopped on the bed. Wrapping up in a clean, white, spa robe makes me feel special and that I deserve a great big hug. This is luxury. It stood in stark contrast to flying on the cheapo airline that doesn't even serve water or peanuts, makes you pay to use the overhead bins, and can't seem to replace or repair a plane to carry us back to Provo. Happens the original plane had some type of malfunction due to a bird flying into the engine. Go figure. Utah Lake IS one of the best places for bird watching in the state of Utah-perhaps not the best place for an airport. Nevertheless when we finally landed at 3:30 a.m. Saturday morning, the flight attended reminded us that even though it had taken them longer than expected, (2 days versus 1 hour) the airline had flown us safely to our destination. I admit, I felt relief when the plane's wheels finally touched down at our rinky dink airport. Besides our fancy hotel, the company fed us expensive airport food for 2 days and gave us 200$ worth of airline credit All these perks including the spa robe reminded me even though we were at their mercy and had no control over the situation, they made an effort to take care of their passengers-or at least they tried to. They had us covered.
If I'm not covered, then I'm exposed, naked, vulnerable, unprotected, unsafe; it's flying by the seat of my pants. Stiff penalties are levied against those who drive without insurance coverage. As a society-we demand it. We know accidents happen-all the time. Bad things happen- all the time. The sky is falling-all the time. We want to know when those bad things happen, someone's going to swoop in and fix it-make it all better, or at least for the other guy we accidentally hit and maimed. That's the law. Coverage isn't luxury, it's necessity. Who wants to drive a dented up piece a junk all through high school? My then 15 yr old son wished my insurance covered his mishaps when taking my car in the dead of night while I slept. With my income, I couldn't afford to make it all better one my own and my insurance surely wouldn't cover that situation.
With my beat up life, I can't afford to fix it on my own. I metaphorically drive around with a huge dent in my door, the convertible top is busted and won't retract, the headlights are busted, rearview mirror is swinging, the vinyl is ripped. It doesn't even come close to having the new car smell it use to have. We kept driving that car and tried to make the best of it. Recently someone noted how with my first marriage, I had been trying to make the best of a bad situation but how I could have made different choices to influence my children for the better. Just because my "relationship car" still had workable, good features-it didn't make it a keeper. Focusing on the good part doesn't make the whole good. It's lost it's inherent value-the Kelley Blue Book buyback price. No one could swoop in and fix it and restore it to factory condition. Since the premium of covenant keeping wasn't paid, I didn't have coverage.
I want to be covered. I want to be protected. I want the embrace. More luxurious than any spa robe or superwow comprehensive car insurance is the coverage offered through the Savior's grace.
Russell M. Nelson states, " In Hebrew, the basic word for atonement is kahar, a verb that means "to cover" or "to forgive." Closely related is the Aramaic and Arabic word kafat, meaning "a close embrace"-no doubt related to the Egyptian ritual embrace. References to that embrace are evident in the Book of Mormon. One states that "the Lord hath redeemed my soul...; I have beheld his glory, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.Another proffers the glorious hope of our being “clasped in the arms of Jesus." I weep for joy when I contemplate the significance of it all. To be redeemed is to be atoned—received in the close embrace of God with an expression not only of His forgiveness, but of our oneness of heart and mind. What a privilege! "
Jesus Christ swoops in and makes it all better-my very own hold harmless clause. Through his grace I am justified. Jesus Christ also enables me to be a changed person as I continue to repent. Through his grace I am sanctified. Through his continuous atonement and my continual conversion, He is able to separate out my evil and my desire for evil and lift it out of me- remove it, burn and purify, make holy, so the whole is good. Though I beat myself up for past choices, I had faith in the atonement then, and I still do. His incomparable grace wraps me up helping me to feel I am being cared for-even pampered at times. "...These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." (Revelation 7:14) I join my voice to Nephi as he pleads, "O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness." Now that's coverage!
If I'm not covered, then I'm exposed, naked, vulnerable, unprotected, unsafe; it's flying by the seat of my pants. Stiff penalties are levied against those who drive without insurance coverage. As a society-we demand it. We know accidents happen-all the time. Bad things happen- all the time. The sky is falling-all the time. We want to know when those bad things happen, someone's going to swoop in and fix it-make it all better, or at least for the other guy we accidentally hit and maimed. That's the law. Coverage isn't luxury, it's necessity. Who wants to drive a dented up piece a junk all through high school? My then 15 yr old son wished my insurance covered his mishaps when taking my car in the dead of night while I slept. With my income, I couldn't afford to make it all better one my own and my insurance surely wouldn't cover that situation.
With my beat up life, I can't afford to fix it on my own. I metaphorically drive around with a huge dent in my door, the convertible top is busted and won't retract, the headlights are busted, rearview mirror is swinging, the vinyl is ripped. It doesn't even come close to having the new car smell it use to have. We kept driving that car and tried to make the best of it. Recently someone noted how with my first marriage, I had been trying to make the best of a bad situation but how I could have made different choices to influence my children for the better. Just because my "relationship car" still had workable, good features-it didn't make it a keeper. Focusing on the good part doesn't make the whole good. It's lost it's inherent value-the Kelley Blue Book buyback price. No one could swoop in and fix it and restore it to factory condition. Since the premium of covenant keeping wasn't paid, I didn't have coverage.
I want to be covered. I want to be protected. I want the embrace. More luxurious than any spa robe or superwow comprehensive car insurance is the coverage offered through the Savior's grace.
Russell M. Nelson states, " In Hebrew, the basic word for atonement is kahar, a verb that means "to cover" or "to forgive." Closely related is the Aramaic and Arabic word kafat, meaning "a close embrace"-no doubt related to the Egyptian ritual embrace. References to that embrace are evident in the Book of Mormon. One states that "the Lord hath redeemed my soul...; I have beheld his glory, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.Another proffers the glorious hope of our being “clasped in the arms of Jesus." I weep for joy when I contemplate the significance of it all. To be redeemed is to be atoned—received in the close embrace of God with an expression not only of His forgiveness, but of our oneness of heart and mind. What a privilege! "
Jesus Christ swoops in and makes it all better-my very own hold harmless clause. Through his grace I am justified. Jesus Christ also enables me to be a changed person as I continue to repent. Through his grace I am sanctified. Through his continuous atonement and my continual conversion, He is able to separate out my evil and my desire for evil and lift it out of me- remove it, burn and purify, make holy, so the whole is good. Though I beat myself up for past choices, I had faith in the atonement then, and I still do. His incomparable grace wraps me up helping me to feel I am being cared for-even pampered at times. "...These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." (Revelation 7:14) I join my voice to Nephi as he pleads, "O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness." Now that's coverage!
Friday, July 8, 2016
Getting Naked
This morning I was thinking about getting naked-stripping off layers-standing there totally exposed-vulnerable-and unprotected. I don't consider myself a physically loose person. In terms of experience and exposure-I've had little. I don’t know what it would be like to get drunk, wake up in some random’s bed, gather my clothes and sheepishly make my way out the back door. Yet emotionally, I think I did that recently. At least I know what it felt like to have impaired judgement, let loose, freely express myself, lose control, share intimate details about my life, stand there emotionally naked, be judged according to my various flaws and performance, and then proceed to get dressed-put the layers back on, retrace my steps and leave, not as friends, but as mere acquaintances. It’s got me scratching me head asking, “What the hell was that?” That was me being loose topped off with a pinch of stupid. What was I thinking?
Recently I bumped into what my daughter refers to as a "cuddle whore". I found myself cuddling with a stranger then following it up with some emotional intimacy. Cuddling is it’s own drug. Complete with the release of oxytocin, it’s pretty easy to feel bonded to someone after cuddling. It’s super dangerous, even if it’s labeled as harmless, meaningless cuddling or pretend bonding. I think it’s actually more potent than kissing. Cuddling makes me feel like I’m with someone I can trust; Cuddling creates an environment where I feel safe and protected-like no matter what has happened in the past, or whatever storm is currently brewing- it will all be okay…Trust me.
I don’t have a lot of experience with cuddling either. Primarily, I cuddled with my first husband. It was the cement holding our marriage together-making me feel safe in an unsafe relationship for 23 years.. So when I had the opportunity to cuddle after all these years, I must admit it was warm and wonderful. Even though it stressed me out enough to get the mother lode of all cold sores the next day- it was worth it…I think.
Perhaps if I would have just called it quits after joining this guy’s cuddle harem and being another notch in his belt, I wouldn’t have felt that "morning after" sensation-like I just had sex with a stranger. If I would have kept it casual- friendly-but on the surface. I should have followed suit when he gave me a fake name and profession. Why share any truth and risk exposing myself? Instead of being irritated, I should have admired his flippant response to my honest inquiry. Who wants people to just throw up all over them? Keep your insides to yourself-thank you very much! Why do you have to dig so deep Erin? No, it was the cuddling in conjunction with the next couple days of personal disclosure; after all-this guy could only ever be a friend-he was not interested in a relationship with me. He was only a consultant. A teacher. A potential safe friend. The all-wise Yoda Cuddle Master.
Because I didn’t feel like I had to impress this guy at all, I could totally relax and say whatever. I stripped away all pretense. I felt I was genuinely sharing what was going on in my fractured mind. I sought greater clarity. I was ready and willing to learn. I didn’t mind being called out on all my crap. I could take responsibility for my actions and own my past decisions. I could try to examine my past dysfunctional patterns I tend to perpetuate. I could be confronted and accept objective feedback from a person who did not know me, love me, or admire me. I could just stand there naked and not be afraid. Or at least I thought I could.
Maybe I like a little flattery every once in a while. Or how about a sincere compliment. Or heck, maybe even a little positive focus-what’s good about me or even praiseworthy. Sometimes even a little lie can help build confidence when it comes to my naked appearance in the bedroom. I loved that about both of my husbands. I knew the truth about my bodily imperfections, but they made me feel like I didn’t have any. There was less judgement and more acceptance-even unconditional love. Whatever. That’s okay. I’m not a victim or a saint. I could have made different decisions in regards to my family relationships. I can still make different decisions. I shouldn’t mind honest feedback of being messed up.
What I did know, was it was time to put my clothes back on. It was time to detach and pull away. I had enough info. I wasn’t thirsting for more analysis or knowledge. Whatever it was-it was coming to an end. My takeaway is learning from my experience. I have some great information (Of course I just lost my red notebook containing that information while being stranded in the airport for the last 6 hours, but hey, I remember some things). I have some additional insights. I want to change for the better. I have increased awareness, including a little more empathy of being intimate with strangers…or lets just say, what NOT to do. It’s embarrassing. Perhaps I can be more modest with the sharing of personal details. I can proceed with caution instead of being so gullible and trusting. According to my “Yoda” on the hill, when you’re not healthy enough for a intimate relationship, you shouldn’t remain sequestered in your room watching Netflix all the time-you need to get out and interact, but you need to have consistent and firm boundaries. That’s why he sticks to cuddling. I think it applies to emotional boundaries as well when deciding how much to reveal to another person and vice versa. The “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” can be a recipe for disaster. Maybe he had it right all along when the only thing I knew about him was that he was Fernando the Drug Dealer. So who I am? Hmmmm- Let’s see…Well, I’m Shaniqua the street walker getting naked with strangers.
Recently I bumped into what my daughter refers to as a "cuddle whore". I found myself cuddling with a stranger then following it up with some emotional intimacy. Cuddling is it’s own drug. Complete with the release of oxytocin, it’s pretty easy to feel bonded to someone after cuddling. It’s super dangerous, even if it’s labeled as harmless, meaningless cuddling or pretend bonding. I think it’s actually more potent than kissing. Cuddling makes me feel like I’m with someone I can trust; Cuddling creates an environment where I feel safe and protected-like no matter what has happened in the past, or whatever storm is currently brewing- it will all be okay…Trust me.
I don’t have a lot of experience with cuddling either. Primarily, I cuddled with my first husband. It was the cement holding our marriage together-making me feel safe in an unsafe relationship for 23 years.. So when I had the opportunity to cuddle after all these years, I must admit it was warm and wonderful. Even though it stressed me out enough to get the mother lode of all cold sores the next day- it was worth it…I think.
Perhaps if I would have just called it quits after joining this guy’s cuddle harem and being another notch in his belt, I wouldn’t have felt that "morning after" sensation-like I just had sex with a stranger. If I would have kept it casual- friendly-but on the surface. I should have followed suit when he gave me a fake name and profession. Why share any truth and risk exposing myself? Instead of being irritated, I should have admired his flippant response to my honest inquiry. Who wants people to just throw up all over them? Keep your insides to yourself-thank you very much! Why do you have to dig so deep Erin? No, it was the cuddling in conjunction with the next couple days of personal disclosure; after all-this guy could only ever be a friend-he was not interested in a relationship with me. He was only a consultant. A teacher. A potential safe friend. The all-wise Yoda Cuddle Master.
Because I didn’t feel like I had to impress this guy at all, I could totally relax and say whatever. I stripped away all pretense. I felt I was genuinely sharing what was going on in my fractured mind. I sought greater clarity. I was ready and willing to learn. I didn’t mind being called out on all my crap. I could take responsibility for my actions and own my past decisions. I could try to examine my past dysfunctional patterns I tend to perpetuate. I could be confronted and accept objective feedback from a person who did not know me, love me, or admire me. I could just stand there naked and not be afraid. Or at least I thought I could.
Maybe I like a little flattery every once in a while. Or how about a sincere compliment. Or heck, maybe even a little positive focus-what’s good about me or even praiseworthy. Sometimes even a little lie can help build confidence when it comes to my naked appearance in the bedroom. I loved that about both of my husbands. I knew the truth about my bodily imperfections, but they made me feel like I didn’t have any. There was less judgement and more acceptance-even unconditional love. Whatever. That’s okay. I’m not a victim or a saint. I could have made different decisions in regards to my family relationships. I can still make different decisions. I shouldn’t mind honest feedback of being messed up.
What I did know, was it was time to put my clothes back on. It was time to detach and pull away. I had enough info. I wasn’t thirsting for more analysis or knowledge. Whatever it was-it was coming to an end. My takeaway is learning from my experience. I have some great information (Of course I just lost my red notebook containing that information while being stranded in the airport for the last 6 hours, but hey, I remember some things). I have some additional insights. I want to change for the better. I have increased awareness, including a little more empathy of being intimate with strangers…or lets just say, what NOT to do. It’s embarrassing. Perhaps I can be more modest with the sharing of personal details. I can proceed with caution instead of being so gullible and trusting. According to my “Yoda” on the hill, when you’re not healthy enough for a intimate relationship, you shouldn’t remain sequestered in your room watching Netflix all the time-you need to get out and interact, but you need to have consistent and firm boundaries. That’s why he sticks to cuddling. I think it applies to emotional boundaries as well when deciding how much to reveal to another person and vice versa. The “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” can be a recipe for disaster. Maybe he had it right all along when the only thing I knew about him was that he was Fernando the Drug Dealer. So who I am? Hmmmm- Let’s see…Well, I’m Shaniqua the street walker getting naked with strangers.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Clutter Chaos Creation
This morning I was thinking about clutter, chaos, and creation and their relationship with each other. Last month I dealt with other people's clutter. Motivated by a desire to help these individuals feel less overwhelmed by their messy, cluttered living spaces and having some organization skills, I found myself navigating in a sea of chaos. Most people wouldn't dare to let you in rooms of their disaster areas of their homes. It's just too personal and embarrassing. These individuals took a chance and trusted I'd help without judging, taking advantage or being disrespectful while sorting through their personal possessions. Typically, when a visitor comes, we'd rather show them our nicely decorated, clean living spaces. It's better to keep the mess hidden-it's too much to organize. However, no one wants to drown in their own stuff.
When dealing with clutter, perhaps I'm just willing to take it on-go inside the proverbial "belly of the beast" Yuck! When I'm sizing up chaos, I try to follow some basic principles. Have many containers big and small to put items that are alike. Take it slow and careful. I am not a de-junker who simply throws all the stuff quickly and randomly into boxes and gets rid of it to clear the apartment for the next tenant. No matter how tempting it is to start fresh and clean without any stuff, sometimes I must deal with it piece by piece and decide first what it is, how the person might value it and where it could possibly go. Sometimes I have to do micro-organizing with lots of little items. I scatter the pieces in a large space so I can see what I'm looking at- then gather things and synthesize. As I clear areas of shelves, drawers etc, I start to view these areas as potential spaces to put the like things I have gathered. Deciding how each area will be used requires imagination and insight into the person's values. The goal is to have easy access to the things that matter most. What's the good of organizing if you can't find anything? Once everything has a place, it becomes a maintenance task-basic household cleaning. It's the good ole' have a place for everything and put everything in it's place.
Objects represent values. Usually after a while, a pattern starts to develop of the different categories of stuff. It's not as broad as we would like to think. These areas I'm trying to repurpose must represent these values, even showcase them or protect them. By organizing a person's stuff, I can support them in what they value and hopefully give them access to do what they want to do. If you love fixing things-here's all your tools organized. If you love crafts-here's all your supplies organized-go at it. If you love flying kites-here they are-go and use them and don't just let them sit around as cool Christmas presents you gave 5 years ago. Here are your resources! Do something with your life man!
I can't multitask when organizing. I need all my wits about me. It's the gathering and synthesis that requires creative energy. It's starting with chaos and then putting things together. That's how I create. It's my big bang theory. About 20 years ago I tried to explain my creative process in a book I wrote for primary choristers. I stated, "If you were to step inside my head, you might not like what you see. For one thing, it would be a mess-much like my house. Utter chaos is what my creativity thrives on...Chaos requires tremendous flexibility of thought as I take one starting point and essentially blow it apart into many different ideas. I make the giant mess on the floor. Then I focus my attention on the task at hand and clean the mess up. These are the same steps I use in my creative process: The initial idea or starting point, the chaos of thoughts and finally the focused synthesis of ideas."
This week I should have been embarrassed as I showed someone my cluttered, chaotic mind. It was a mess, or as he called it"nutzo" and "scatterbrain." Talk about a mess of wires of neural activity! Yet, I don't want to de-junk and yank out all my tangled wiring and throw it in a pile. I can become a master organizer to de-clutter and create. I can use that scatterbrain quality to blow things apart in my inner space and start to gather and synthesize concepts-get down to the nuts and bolts of my "nutzo" mind. That's hardware my friend and can ultimately help hold things together-to make important neural connections. I can group similar concepts, sort things according to my highest values, establish a place for them so I can ultimately find and access these resources and utilize them fully. As I examine ideas, I need to first figure out what they are, decide their value, and then create a place for them and access them-put ideas into action. I'm certain there will be ideas to discard. I don't have to keep everything. But there is all sorts of good stuff I will find as I organize my cluttered mind. I too, will be able to use my resources and can go about the business of living life in a creative yet organized manner. I can do something with my life!
When dealing with clutter, perhaps I'm just willing to take it on-go inside the proverbial "belly of the beast" Yuck! When I'm sizing up chaos, I try to follow some basic principles. Have many containers big and small to put items that are alike. Take it slow and careful. I am not a de-junker who simply throws all the stuff quickly and randomly into boxes and gets rid of it to clear the apartment for the next tenant. No matter how tempting it is to start fresh and clean without any stuff, sometimes I must deal with it piece by piece and decide first what it is, how the person might value it and where it could possibly go. Sometimes I have to do micro-organizing with lots of little items. I scatter the pieces in a large space so I can see what I'm looking at- then gather things and synthesize. As I clear areas of shelves, drawers etc, I start to view these areas as potential spaces to put the like things I have gathered. Deciding how each area will be used requires imagination and insight into the person's values. The goal is to have easy access to the things that matter most. What's the good of organizing if you can't find anything? Once everything has a place, it becomes a maintenance task-basic household cleaning. It's the good ole' have a place for everything and put everything in it's place.
Objects represent values. Usually after a while, a pattern starts to develop of the different categories of stuff. It's not as broad as we would like to think. These areas I'm trying to repurpose must represent these values, even showcase them or protect them. By organizing a person's stuff, I can support them in what they value and hopefully give them access to do what they want to do. If you love fixing things-here's all your tools organized. If you love crafts-here's all your supplies organized-go at it. If you love flying kites-here they are-go and use them and don't just let them sit around as cool Christmas presents you gave 5 years ago. Here are your resources! Do something with your life man!
I can't multitask when organizing. I need all my wits about me. It's the gathering and synthesis that requires creative energy. It's starting with chaos and then putting things together. That's how I create. It's my big bang theory. About 20 years ago I tried to explain my creative process in a book I wrote for primary choristers. I stated, "If you were to step inside my head, you might not like what you see. For one thing, it would be a mess-much like my house. Utter chaos is what my creativity thrives on...Chaos requires tremendous flexibility of thought as I take one starting point and essentially blow it apart into many different ideas. I make the giant mess on the floor. Then I focus my attention on the task at hand and clean the mess up. These are the same steps I use in my creative process: The initial idea or starting point, the chaos of thoughts and finally the focused synthesis of ideas."
This week I should have been embarrassed as I showed someone my cluttered, chaotic mind. It was a mess, or as he called it"nutzo" and "scatterbrain." Talk about a mess of wires of neural activity! Yet, I don't want to de-junk and yank out all my tangled wiring and throw it in a pile. I can become a master organizer to de-clutter and create. I can use that scatterbrain quality to blow things apart in my inner space and start to gather and synthesize concepts-get down to the nuts and bolts of my "nutzo" mind. That's hardware my friend and can ultimately help hold things together-to make important neural connections. I can group similar concepts, sort things according to my highest values, establish a place for them so I can ultimately find and access these resources and utilize them fully. As I examine ideas, I need to first figure out what they are, decide their value, and then create a place for them and access them-put ideas into action. I'm certain there will be ideas to discard. I don't have to keep everything. But there is all sorts of good stuff I will find as I organize my cluttered mind. I too, will be able to use my resources and can go about the business of living life in a creative yet organized manner. I can do something with my life!
Monday, June 27, 2016
Polka Dance Partner
This morning I was thinking about partner dancing and my polka dance days. Dancing is a great way of connecting and trying to move together as partners. I had a wonderful dancing friend, Michael Gilmore all through high school. We actually made up a routine consisting of random musical theatre dance moves, disco, swing, and even a little polka. When doing the polka, we needed a lot of space, especially if we were going to circumvent the entire dance floor. Though I'm sure it didn't always get attention in a good way, I didn't care. It was more like a roller derby- trying weave and bob and not run over anyone. We both supplied the power with our feet but Michael navigated. He would choose the direction, taking the lead as I tried to stay in step. After a couple times around the dance floor, I would get so dizzy and out of breath, Michael would have to steady me so I didn't collapse and fall over. Maybe he didn't get as dizzy because he had more control over where we were going. Regardless, it was more than dancing-it was an adventure! We loved the journey.
The men I married had distinct ways of partner dancing indicative of our journeys together. My first husband had the capability of being the most fabulous dancer ever; I knew he could confidently lead me around if he wanted to- but he didn't want to. It was like he was waiting for me to make a move and then he would match and mirror it. He astutely observed my every move then joined in like he was saying, "look we're the same." He established rapport, then paced and led. Ultimately he would be the one in control, but he didn't give that impression at first. It was more subtle. Instead of feeling in sync, I remember feeling frustrated because our movements lacked purpose, seemed disorganized and weren't cohesive.
My second husband just stood there limp and made an attempt to hold me while we went in a circle. There was little tone, little energy, and definitely no direction. He was open to learning and willing to try anything. I remember teaching him some basic concepts like-have a strong frame-hold me tight, choose a direction, move with confidence. That didn't work out so hot. He let me have complete control and do whatever I wanted. If I really wanted complete control of expression, I might as well just dance by myself, shake it, flip my hair or spin around. There are all sorts of ways to move it.
I suppose there is some of my attention seeking polka ways in my heart today. At least it rises to the surface when dancing in my foofy dress that twirls when I spin. I knew I would get good use of it during the singles conference dance with the old men last weekend, many which know how to partner dance. It's always an adventure meeting someone for the first time and trying to figure out what to do and where to go while dancing. Some people just make excuses- I don't dance or I'm too cool, or I'm too cool for YOU. Others are willing to learn and thrust you into a teacher mode. Some just expect you to mind read and then get frustrated when you're the idiot partner. Some guy's "routines" are pretty easy to figure out after a few minutes- like learning their circus tricks. Others-not so easy. Sometimes these circus tricks are their sly way of breaking boundaries and getting way too close or pretending any second they are going to go in for some romantic kiss. Or perhaps they have some roaming hands I'd prefer they'd keep to themselves. Some can be completely unpredictable and harsh while yanking around my body parts.
Then there are a few partners that just have "this way." It's hard to describe. It's this way of moving that makes me feel safe and secure. Like I'm with someone strong, confident, capable, yet responsive to me; that won't just watch me, but that will watch out for me. They have a great way of holding my hand or putting pressure on my back to increase clear communication. They make it easy for me to succeed. They lead, yet I don't feel like I'm being controlled or driven. They are taking me out for drive-hopefully somewhere interesting.
Maybe "this way" has nothing to do with the dancing at all. Maybe it's just the well placed comment, or the look in their eye, or here's a concept- WHO you are dancing with. What kind of man is he anyway. Is he a good man? Is he a smart man? Is he a caring man? Is he a leader? Will he be safe? Will he protect me? Does being a strong leader mean he will try to control me or manipulate me for his own gain? If he's driving, will there be still be true equality in the partnership?
All attempts to connect and move together seem to be a dance. There's a requirement to take action-move-be responsive. I find myself stumbling over my thoughts, my words, while trying to have a fluid conversation. I misinterpret cues. I bump into people. So if I get dizzy from a potential whirlwind tour, will my partner catch me so I won't fall down? It's always good to hope.
The men I married had distinct ways of partner dancing indicative of our journeys together. My first husband had the capability of being the most fabulous dancer ever; I knew he could confidently lead me around if he wanted to- but he didn't want to. It was like he was waiting for me to make a move and then he would match and mirror it. He astutely observed my every move then joined in like he was saying, "look we're the same." He established rapport, then paced and led. Ultimately he would be the one in control, but he didn't give that impression at first. It was more subtle. Instead of feeling in sync, I remember feeling frustrated because our movements lacked purpose, seemed disorganized and weren't cohesive.
My second husband just stood there limp and made an attempt to hold me while we went in a circle. There was little tone, little energy, and definitely no direction. He was open to learning and willing to try anything. I remember teaching him some basic concepts like-have a strong frame-hold me tight, choose a direction, move with confidence. That didn't work out so hot. He let me have complete control and do whatever I wanted. If I really wanted complete control of expression, I might as well just dance by myself, shake it, flip my hair or spin around. There are all sorts of ways to move it.
I suppose there is some of my attention seeking polka ways in my heart today. At least it rises to the surface when dancing in my foofy dress that twirls when I spin. I knew I would get good use of it during the singles conference dance with the old men last weekend, many which know how to partner dance. It's always an adventure meeting someone for the first time and trying to figure out what to do and where to go while dancing. Some people just make excuses- I don't dance or I'm too cool, or I'm too cool for YOU. Others are willing to learn and thrust you into a teacher mode. Some just expect you to mind read and then get frustrated when you're the idiot partner. Some guy's "routines" are pretty easy to figure out after a few minutes- like learning their circus tricks. Others-not so easy. Sometimes these circus tricks are their sly way of breaking boundaries and getting way too close or pretending any second they are going to go in for some romantic kiss. Or perhaps they have some roaming hands I'd prefer they'd keep to themselves. Some can be completely unpredictable and harsh while yanking around my body parts.
Then there are a few partners that just have "this way." It's hard to describe. It's this way of moving that makes me feel safe and secure. Like I'm with someone strong, confident, capable, yet responsive to me; that won't just watch me, but that will watch out for me. They have a great way of holding my hand or putting pressure on my back to increase clear communication. They make it easy for me to succeed. They lead, yet I don't feel like I'm being controlled or driven. They are taking me out for drive-hopefully somewhere interesting.
Maybe "this way" has nothing to do with the dancing at all. Maybe it's just the well placed comment, or the look in their eye, or here's a concept- WHO you are dancing with. What kind of man is he anyway. Is he a good man? Is he a smart man? Is he a caring man? Is he a leader? Will he be safe? Will he protect me? Does being a strong leader mean he will try to control me or manipulate me for his own gain? If he's driving, will there be still be true equality in the partnership?
All attempts to connect and move together seem to be a dance. There's a requirement to take action-move-be responsive. I find myself stumbling over my thoughts, my words, while trying to have a fluid conversation. I misinterpret cues. I bump into people. So if I get dizzy from a potential whirlwind tour, will my partner catch me so I won't fall down? It's always good to hope.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Ahhhhhh...Freak Out!
This morning I was thinking about freaking out and being able to move on. Last week when beginning our uphill hike to Timapanogos Cave, one of our very physically capable students became extremely anxious about walking on the nicely paved trail. As she cried, screamed, shook, and plopped on the ground she cried, 'I'm going to die. I'm afraid of heights. I don't trust myself. I don't trust you. I'm going back" It wasn't like we were standing over a dangerous precipice but the sheer size of the mountain and the distance to reach the cave made her visibly upset. It was overwhelming for her. As I tried to comfort her, listen to her concerns and assuage her fears, it looked like this was going to be a "no go". I gave the tour tickets to another therapist and stayed back to help, knowing it was much safer for the group to stick together instead of splitting supervision. There was no going back, at least, I sure didn't want to. No matter how many times I assured her I would help keep her safe- she could hold my hand and I would guide her- I've made this trip several times with no mishaps-look the toddlers are doing it-you can too...she just wailed. I was at a loss.
As the group went on, I noticed she was concerned about where her peers were and had some competitive urge to catch up with them. I could work with that. I encouraged her to look directly in front of her feet at the trail and not look around at the view, stay close to the mountain side rather than the edge, and hold my hand to "find the group". Besides I told her we needed to give one of the students their inhaler. Motivated by purpose we took off though she continued to cry and whine. Once we reached her peers, it occurred to me that she might feel more in control of her situation if I placed her in the front of the group and made her in charge of when and where we stopped for our breaks and how fast we walked. This seemed to work even better. I continued to look down to model the head position I wanted her to assume and tried to keep up with her. She went pretty fast. Over time, her cries subsided. Another peer did the "I'm so scared" routine, so I had her join us in the front. The first student had a chance to comfort another peer and give her suggestions of what was working for her.
Miraculously (at least considering her freak out at the beginning) she made it to the cave. She enjoyed taking pictures of the view. She appeared fascinated by it, and had to be coaxed to take a seat and get away from the edge. She was literally facing her fear and desensitizing herself to it. It wasn't that scary, she didn't die. She made it! On the way down, she didn't complain at all or express any fear but this time the freak out came from another student about to lose control of her bladder. Once again, I put her in front-giving her needed control. As she cried and wailed and said she couldn't go on-we kept pressing forward counting down the markers until we reached the bathroom successfully. Hey two miracles in one day! Though I barely saw or appreciated the glory and wonder of the Timp Caves due to our rushed tour of hyperactive, impulsive students, I was more impressed with the wonder of these 2 students and their success in handling their freak outs.
I'm thinking about my own freak outs. On the outside, they are surely not as dramatic but if someone were to film my inner dialogue and emotional reactions, perhaps they would be just as ridiculous, random and irrational. Instead, I try to keep up with my peers. At times I keep my head down and look right in front of my feet-just a few steps deciding what to do in the moment. Having a defined purpose propels me forward. I set my own pace. I look for ways to help others and share what has worked for me. I try not to lose control mentally and emotionally and just go to the bathroom all over myself. In a world full of daunting challenges, it's easy to feel overwhelmed. It's easy to feel not only uncomfortable but to double over in pain and squeeze my knees together. "Let it Go" is not always the best plan of action. At times, I wish I could go back to the car or magically be transported to the restrooms But I can't. I have to use my muscles-contract them and hold the position in order to build strength. Like these students, I try to face my fear-get comfortable with the view and be OK with it. I also have to "hold it" until I reach my goal. Control is key-especially when moving forward. Sometimes the goal IS to just move. Movement is life, especially goal oriented movement or exercising faith unto repentance.
Freaking out and waving my hands randomly in the air can be reserved for retro disco dances.
As the group went on, I noticed she was concerned about where her peers were and had some competitive urge to catch up with them. I could work with that. I encouraged her to look directly in front of her feet at the trail and not look around at the view, stay close to the mountain side rather than the edge, and hold my hand to "find the group". Besides I told her we needed to give one of the students their inhaler. Motivated by purpose we took off though she continued to cry and whine. Once we reached her peers, it occurred to me that she might feel more in control of her situation if I placed her in the front of the group and made her in charge of when and where we stopped for our breaks and how fast we walked. This seemed to work even better. I continued to look down to model the head position I wanted her to assume and tried to keep up with her. She went pretty fast. Over time, her cries subsided. Another peer did the "I'm so scared" routine, so I had her join us in the front. The first student had a chance to comfort another peer and give her suggestions of what was working for her.
Miraculously (at least considering her freak out at the beginning) she made it to the cave. She enjoyed taking pictures of the view. She appeared fascinated by it, and had to be coaxed to take a seat and get away from the edge. She was literally facing her fear and desensitizing herself to it. It wasn't that scary, she didn't die. She made it! On the way down, she didn't complain at all or express any fear but this time the freak out came from another student about to lose control of her bladder. Once again, I put her in front-giving her needed control. As she cried and wailed and said she couldn't go on-we kept pressing forward counting down the markers until we reached the bathroom successfully. Hey two miracles in one day! Though I barely saw or appreciated the glory and wonder of the Timp Caves due to our rushed tour of hyperactive, impulsive students, I was more impressed with the wonder of these 2 students and their success in handling their freak outs.
I'm thinking about my own freak outs. On the outside, they are surely not as dramatic but if someone were to film my inner dialogue and emotional reactions, perhaps they would be just as ridiculous, random and irrational. Instead, I try to keep up with my peers. At times I keep my head down and look right in front of my feet-just a few steps deciding what to do in the moment. Having a defined purpose propels me forward. I set my own pace. I look for ways to help others and share what has worked for me. I try not to lose control mentally and emotionally and just go to the bathroom all over myself. In a world full of daunting challenges, it's easy to feel overwhelmed. It's easy to feel not only uncomfortable but to double over in pain and squeeze my knees together. "Let it Go" is not always the best plan of action. At times, I wish I could go back to the car or magically be transported to the restrooms But I can't. I have to use my muscles-contract them and hold the position in order to build strength. Like these students, I try to face my fear-get comfortable with the view and be OK with it. I also have to "hold it" until I reach my goal. Control is key-especially when moving forward. Sometimes the goal IS to just move. Movement is life, especially goal oriented movement or exercising faith unto repentance.
"And thus he shall bring salvation
to all those who shall believe on his name; this being the intent of
this last sacrifice, to bring about the bowels of mercy, which
overpowereth justice, and bringeth about means unto men that they may
have faith unto repentance. And thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice,
and encircles them in the arms of safety, while he that exercises no
faith unto repentance is exposed to the whole law of the demands of justice; therefore only unto him that has faith unto repentance is brought about the great and eternal plan of redemption." Alma 34:15-16
Freaking out and waving my hands randomly in the air can be reserved for retro disco dances.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Random Hugs
This morning I was thinking about receiving random hugs and the meaning behind them. While seated on the back row of the church, a little girl about age 3 or 4 came up and stood around waiting to give me a hug. She smiled and looked at me like I was a Disney princess, celebrity or at least someone she already knew. I gathered her in and gave her a big hug. I was touched by the pure love, generosity, and innocence of this small child and her willingness to reach out to me. When the meeting was over, another child, this time a toddler boy did the same thing. Perhaps he was mimicking his sister. I don't know if they belonged to the same family or if the mother sent them over because they thought I needed a hug. I don't know. It has just never happened to me before. And the more I think about it, the more I realize we all could use some random hugs from people we don't know, especially children.
Later we gathered for ward conference to talk about ministering to one another. I felt prompted to share the experience I had earlier in the morning. The thought, "And a child shall lead them" came to my mind as I thought of these sweet children. They were showing me how to reach out and share the love of the Lord with everyone I see. They were not afraid to approach me. They were not concerned about what I would think of them-or if they would be rejected. Their gesture was so natural and sincere, it makes me want to follow their example of showing love. They were teaching me-leading me.
I was reminded of the scene in the Bible when Jesus said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, for such is the kingdom of God." I usually focus on how the children must have felt, being so close to the Savior and feeling his love. But today, I thought of how wonderful it must have been for the Savior to receive hugs from sweet little children. Maybe they were also random kids. It would be a great lifelong goal to have the love and light of the Savior fill my countenance-so much that others would want to be near me and I could draw them in to love and comfort them. Through the example of the Savior, I learn that a simple touch can heal.
I love giving side hugs and fist bumps with the children at work. It's some of the best work I do. Some severely traumatized students cannot tolerate touch at all. I give them space, respect their boundaries, and give them love and attention in other ways. Sometimes I can give a mental hug with a sincere compliment, thoughtfully listening, giving special consideration, letting them lead, or spending individual time with them. My new work schedule (T-S 11-7) provides an opportunity to do just that.
It's been a real adjustment staying later in the evening and working on Saturdays but it is needed, and I can see the need firsthand. It feels right to reach out to the children-to play with them-to be with them. Perhaps these little hugs I received this morning were to help me accept my new work schedule and not resent the change. Kids need hugs and so do we, no matter how random they may appear. I can embrace it!
Later we gathered for ward conference to talk about ministering to one another. I felt prompted to share the experience I had earlier in the morning. The thought, "And a child shall lead them" came to my mind as I thought of these sweet children. They were showing me how to reach out and share the love of the Lord with everyone I see. They were not afraid to approach me. They were not concerned about what I would think of them-or if they would be rejected. Their gesture was so natural and sincere, it makes me want to follow their example of showing love. They were teaching me-leading me.
I was reminded of the scene in the Bible when Jesus said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, for such is the kingdom of God." I usually focus on how the children must have felt, being so close to the Savior and feeling his love. But today, I thought of how wonderful it must have been for the Savior to receive hugs from sweet little children. Maybe they were also random kids. It would be a great lifelong goal to have the love and light of the Savior fill my countenance-so much that others would want to be near me and I could draw them in to love and comfort them. Through the example of the Savior, I learn that a simple touch can heal.
I love giving side hugs and fist bumps with the children at work. It's some of the best work I do. Some severely traumatized students cannot tolerate touch at all. I give them space, respect their boundaries, and give them love and attention in other ways. Sometimes I can give a mental hug with a sincere compliment, thoughtfully listening, giving special consideration, letting them lead, or spending individual time with them. My new work schedule (T-S 11-7) provides an opportunity to do just that.
It's been a real adjustment staying later in the evening and working on Saturdays but it is needed, and I can see the need firsthand. It feels right to reach out to the children-to play with them-to be with them. Perhaps these little hugs I received this morning were to help me accept my new work schedule and not resent the change. Kids need hugs and so do we, no matter how random they may appear. I can embrace it!
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