Seasons of Change

It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.
~ Alan Cohen

This morning, I woke up to Canadian Geese taking off on their flight south. They were the first geese this season, at least that I’ve consciously noted. The sound was a vivid and poignant reminder that our lives are moving on; it’s another season of change.

Geese live their lives in a normal state of flux. Twice a year, they uproot themselves from everything they know, fly over all kinds of dangerous and unknown territory, and arrive in a new (and yet familiar) home. The geese remind me of how important it is to remain alive and vibrant by embracing change in my own life.

This morning, in one of those strange synoptic hiccups that brings together two seemingly unrelated trivial facts, I started to think about changes in my life, and how we weather those changes. Somehow, in that weird and wonderful synoptic path that I created in my mysterious brain, I related it to our hunter-gatherer ancient ancestors. We all had them, no matter how ancient a culture we hail from. Somewhere, far back in time, we all were hunter-gatherers. Which means that in our cells somewhere is the ancient knowledge of how to live life in a constant state of change.

We humans even thrived in a constant state of change, as sociological studies of most recent hunter gatherer societies have shown. Hunter gatherer societies have more time for play, spend less time working, and have more carefree and joyous lives. (The Other Side of Eden, Hugh Brody)

What happened to us human beings? How did we become so afraid of change? Why is it so difficult for us to embrace new ideas, new situations, think about change? When did that happen to us as a society?

I have been struggling with those questions for the past few months, as I learned to deal simultaneously with divorce, job loss, career change, and identity crisis. At times, it seemed it would be much easier to issue a blanket apology to everyone in my life and go back to the old and familiar, no matter how miserable I was. That security blanket of the known would sometimes looked so irresistibly safe and warm and comfortable that I would almost long for life to go back to the way it was.

And then I would remember how sad and lonely and miserable I was, before.

I learned to breathe through the discomfort of change. I learned to embrace the changes that did arrive in my life, because they were always a positive step forward. I became vibrantly alive because of the changes that entered my life, looked for or not. I woke up!

My journey of the past few years has been agonizingly painful at times. Other times, it has been joyful, alive, powerful, transformative. On the whole, I have learned to prefer the change, for with the change comes power in the form of emotions, trust, engagement, and feeling more alive than I have in years.

Hearing the geese this morning has reminded me of how far I’ve traveled in this thrilling journey of life. They reminded me of my patient friends along the way, who simply sat with me while I agonized, gave me or sent me hugs and a shoulder to cry on when I needed it, always responded with love and caring. The geese reminded me to be thankful for what I have ever present in my life – three loving and lovely daughters, excited to be on this grand new adventure with me, throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the adventure of living with very limited resources while I go back to school. I am grateful to have found a way to go back to school, one stepping stone into a new career that I hope will be enriching and rewarding.

As we begin our journey into autumn, listening to the sounds of our itinerant friends, the Canadian Geese, remember to be thankful for the changes in our lives. Embrace change with your whole heart. Live wild and free and joyfully.

School starts!

Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it.
~ Buddha


School started tonight. I forgot how much fun it is to go to university!

Finding Clarity

In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness.
-- Mahatma Gandhi

From the utter chaos into which my life has devolved, I must inject some clarity of thought.

I found out late last night that the money I need to attend school is available. By the end of this weekend, I need to make a decision about whether to take out a massive student loan or not.

It’s a dream finally come true, and the scariest thing I’ve ever done, because I’ll be dragging my girls along this new path.

It feels right, and yet, I still worry about whether I’m making the best decision for my girls as well as myself. It would be a no-brainer, if it was just me. Of course, I wouldn’t be jobless if it weren’t for wanting to keep my girls in their amazing and wonderful school, and therefore not being able to relocate.

The longer I sit in silence, quieting my brain from its fussing and worrying, the more I believe that school is the right choice for me right now.

Finding clarity in the midst of chaos. Not such an easy thing to do.

Re-learning to Believe in Myself

When you clearly envision the outcome of victory, engrave it upon your heart, and are firmly convinced that you will attain it, your brain makes every effort to realize the mental image you have created. And then, through your unceasing efforts, that victory is finally made a reality.

-- Daisaku Ikeda

Yesterday was a day of ups and downs. I woke up early, to do some research into a non-profit. I’d submitted a resume for a job that sounded intriguing, they were calling for an initial phone interview, and I wanted to know more about this non-profit before I spoke to them.

The organization sounded good, the job sounded interesting and rewarding, I began to feel some excitement about a possibility that might open in my life. When we actually spoke, I found out the job would require almost constant overnight travel and lots of evening work, none of which would work with my life as a single mom.

The interviewer, upon hearing that I wouldn’t be interested in further pursuing this particular position, asked if he could forward my resume and information to others in the organization, in case there were positions that didn’t require quite so much travel. I told him yes, and scratched another possibility off my list. It’s nice that a 20-something year old can appreciate that I have valuable skills, now I just need a position to open up that will use those skills in a meaningful way.

Then I received a phone call from the University of Phoenix, with information about their online course of study, for a Masters of Art in Teaching program. It sounds intriguing, and is cheaper than Fairleigh Dickinson, where I have already been accepted, but it’s studying alone at home, no chance to interact in real life with people. I already feel isolated; I’m not sure that would be a good decision for me. The possibility remains, and I won’t throw it away.

A little while later, I picked up the mail, and found the financial aid letter from FDU. Almost no money offered. I was only going to qualify for loans, and was already agonizing over whether I should throw myself into that much debt at 49 years old. But now it seems pretty nearly impossible to make this dream happen. I have no income, I’m a single mom with three dependents, how could they offer me less than half the tuition needs for a semester? Where do they possibly think I can get this tuition money? Alchemy from my blood?

I was looking into scholarship and grant money when I ran into U of Phoenix. It seems that summer is not a great time to look for grants, when you are expecting to start school in the fall. One more possibility scratched off my list. I could possibly qualify for awards for next fall, in case I don’t manage school this year, so I won’t delete all the information that came up while I was browsing websites that help find scholarships, but the likelihood of school is looking less and less possible.

While running errands this morning, I finally heard back from the Creative Group placement people about the possibility of finding some writing or editing work. They would like to see some of my writing, and will make an appointment for an intake interview, so they can decide whether to represent me or not. I can look for freelance and permanent work. Another possibility opening for me?

In the afternoon, the girls and I went shopping for some school clothing. Salvation Army was a great hit, especially when the girls realized that the blue tags were at 50% sale on the already wonderful prices. I could even afford to buy Sarah an exquisite black velvet dress, which she can use for winter holidays and a school dance, when they have one this year. eek. Is my middle daughter really old enough to start going to school dances???!!!???

Alanna is happy. She found lots of clothing for very little money, and other than having to try it all on behind a sheet that Sarah and I held up for her in a corner (they tore down the fitting rooms because people were stealing too much), found the experience fun and rewarding. Shopping is usually torturous with her. And Marlena and Sarah were each able to stretch their $20 they were allowed to spend quite far. (They already have plenty of hand-me-downs, so spending was just for the fun of something new.)

The day ended on a positive note, with my three girls and I sorting through our purchases and trying everything on again. I am grateful for finding a way to bring some joy into our lives, and proud that my girls not only aren’t embarrassed to buy in Salvation Army, but consider it the right thing to do, in living their sustainable lifestyles. And I’m happy to make less expensive purchases for better quality clothing than I could afford on my unemployment benefits. Ann Taylor beats Walmart any day of the week.

I’m pondering this morning what yesterday’s multiple messages mean for my life. I found some nice clothing for little money for the girls, and knew I could do it, knew where to do it, knew how to do it. I believed in the possibility, and found a way to make it happen.

I did not find a way to work yet, did not find a way to go to school yet. In fact, the possibility of school seems even more remote, in spite of searching even further afield to find ways to make this dream happen. Is that because I don’t believe hard enough yet? Have I not firmly convinced myself that this is the right thing to do? Do I have a niggling doubt that I will enjoy and succeed at teaching? Are my doubts and my fears still getting in the way of making this dream a reality?

Will I believe strongly enough in the possibility of finding writing work to make that a possibility?

How does one engrave a dream upon one’s heart? Can it happen by simply living in the joy of the moment, whenever and wherever we can find it?

Karmic Opening

People get into a heavy-duty sin and guilt trip, feeling that if things are going wrong, that means that they did something bad and they are being punished. That’s not the idea at all. The idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings that you need to open your heart. To the degree that you didn’t understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you’re given this gift of teachings in the form of your life, to give you everything you need to open further.
-- Pema Chodron

In the current session of my covenant group, we are talking about being at home with ourselves. The opening reading, by Mary Feagan, is a poem about how we can embrace our whole selves, be at home with our essential nature.

I’m finding this session particularly challenging, because I’m not at home with myself right now. It’s all part of a big package of transitions: transitions in marriage, transitions in career, transitions in lifestyle, transitions in identity.

Pema Chodron’s quote about karma is perhaps what I need to hear. Is my life lesson that I need to open fully and completely? Is that fact that I’m being thrown challenge after challenge, to the point where I’m brought to my knees, because I am not fully open?

Something to ponder.

Living with Nature

Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty.
-- Albert Einstein

This morning, I came down to the kitchen to be greeted with the sight of a brand new bag of cat food, chewed open; a brand new bunch of organic bananas, dragged into a corner and chewed and shredded and demolished; a tray of croissants, opened and chewed; and papers from my kitchen island strewn across the room. And a cat inside who hadn’t been in when I went to bed last night.

It was a little freaky, to say the least.

I finally found a kitchen window with part of the screen ripped off. I think that was the access point. We have raccoons that visit, and steal our cat food from the porch. We feed the cats outside, to minimize the possibility of mice, since we live in a big crooked old farmhouse. And this spring, a momma raccoon and her six babies found our supply of cat food and are now regular visitors, even though we bring the cat food in every afternoon, in a vain attempt to discourage them from visiting every night.

The babies are grown now, so we have seven very large and plump raccoons that stop by on a regular basis. They don’t worry about timing too much, and visit late in the morning, and late in the afternoon, not just at night, so our window for feeding the cats grows smaller and smaller. And they startle my daughters all the time; the girls are now afraid to run out to the car once it’s twilight, even though the car’s only 10 feet from the side door.

We’ve taken to making a great racket with pots and lids, clanging like crazy in another vain attempt to scare them off. It works for bears … why not for raccoons. They ran away the first time. The second time they scurried a bit slower. The third and fourth time, only about half ran away; the other half only went a few feet and squatted to watch and see what we’d do next. Only when I ran out in bare feet and my nightie, still clanging pot and lid, chasing them back down the hill into the woods, did they finally run.

Now they just go under the car and laugh at me, running around like a crazy woman in my nightie and bare feet, making noise and shrieking like a banshee, in case that helps. My eleven-year-old is brave enough to run out with me, and has a much better shrill banshee scream, and the other two shriek from the kitchen door. The raccoons still laugh at us. And now, evidently, they feel they can visit our kitchen and eat our food with impunity.

We’re learning to live with bats in the attic, house flies that won’t quit and laugh at the fly paper hanging all over the house, spiders galore, and a major infestation of sugar ants who laugh at the ant traps I put out. I’m headed to the store to buy borax today, to make some better homemade time-tested ant traps. The bats do keep away the mosquitoes, though, and look beautiful flying around outside in the evening. And so far, none have found their way downstairs into the house, so I don’t mind the bats.

So our challenge this summer has been to live with a new face of nature that we didn’t need to endure in our last house, which was newer, more air tight, less crooked, and crevice- and crack-free. It’s been a challenge, especially waking up to a raccoon mess in my kitchen this morning. That window is now permanently shut, and I’m thinking maybe a dog wouldn’t be a bad idea after all…

Albert Einstein probably didn’t have to live with pests.


Here's a link for good homemade ant traps:
http://www.grinningplanet.com/2004/04-27/ant-control-ant-killer-article.htm

Blossoming

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anais Nin

I think about blossoming all the time, because I am the mother of three daughters. I have one in the middle of adolescence, one just ready to start, and one watching her older sisters very carefully, pushing the boundaries for what I consider appropriate behavior for an eight-year-old.

They are all blossoming. It is an amazing and beautiful thing to watch your daughters blossom. I ache for them, I am their best cheerleader, I watch over them, I support them, I love them. They blossom in spite of anything I do. They blossom at their own time, in their own way. And it is an amazing process to watch.

I find myself in forced blossoming right now, kind of like a hothouse flower, or a bulb that we force in midwinter, after keeping it in the cold and dark for a while to allow it to regenerate. savvygardener.com says, “The term forcing refers to inducing a plant to produce its shoot, leaf, and flower ahead of its natural schedule and out of its natural environment.” That would be my life, right now – out of schedule and natural environment.

Blossoming.

Merriam Webster online tells me that to blossom is to come into one’s own. Is that what the universe wants me to hear, by placing me, some with my permission and active encouragement, some without warning and very little volition on my part, in so many situations at once that have caused me to lose my equilibrium? Divorce, job loss, identity crisis, loss of calling: all happening at once. Is it time to come into my own?

For far too many years, I lived without a lover. That was a sad and lonely time in my life. That was the cold winter of my love, the time for my essential core to build its roots. When you force bulbs, the cold period is the period that allows the bulbs to develop their root system. Without that time, the bloom will come up short and distorted. Perhaps that’s why it took me so long to initiate a divorce – I was building up my root system, developing a support system of friends to see me through into my new life. My blossoming.

Job loss.

That was a shock to my system. Perhaps I need to move over to Monarch butterflies for the metaphor that makes sense in my life. Monarchs start life as eggs, and the eggs hatch into pupa. Pupa shed their skins four times over their larval stage. Am I shedding another skin? Was my first career back in the work force a job that I needed for my growth as a human?

I went through four separate and distinct stages as a religious educator. First, walking into a church for the first time in over 20 years, and finding a place that could be a religious and spiritual home. I hadn’t thought that was possible. That must have been my hatching from the egg stage, finding myself on this miraculous milkweed-like place where I could feed myself, even gorge myself on the kind of spiritual growth that I hadn’t found in my entire lifetime.

Second, working for a tiny congregation, where I learned what it meant to be a religious educator. Third, working as a youth advisor at camp, where I learned just how much growth is possible in a human in a short amount of time (for the youth and for me). Fourth, working for a larger congregation, where I learned how it might be possible to fly, where I made the contacts that are in my life right now who are helping me survive, grow and thrive. That was also the first job that gave me the financial freedom to think about leaving my marriage.

And now, this last change I’m in the middle of? I think maybe I’m in my chrysalis stage. Butterflies shed not only their skin a fifth and final time during the chrysalis stage, they kick the entire caterpillar body off (head, eyes, antennae, stripes and legs). That’s about how I feel right now. Blind, not able to hear or see what’s coming next, wondering how I will move on in life with my legs pulled out from under me, my insides a complete mush from all that’s happened to me. Chrysalis soup, from which a miracle can climb.

The final stage of a Monarch is the butterfly stage. She climbs out wet, with wrinkled wings, and slowly fans them until they are pumped full of blood and she can fly off into her new and exciting life, totally transformed.

I’m listening to Meg Barnhouse’s song Chrysalis right now, thinking about breaking out of my chrysalis. Maybe it’s time to break through my walls. Maybe the falling apart is really just an unfurling of my wings.

I've got to tell you something important you need to know.
You're going to be fine.
They said the walls were there for protection. That used to be true.
It's time to break through.
Butterfly, you can try your bright wings. Let your colors fly.
A chrysalis really is a fine thing -- 'til it's time to take the sky.
It feels like it's all falling apart. What's happening is an unfurling.
Where do you migrate? How do you get there?
When it's time to go, you'll know.
Butterfly, you can try your bright wings. Let your colors fly.
A chrysalis really is a fine thing -- 'til it's time to take the sky.
Wishing you honey, wishing you sunlight; a little rain -- not too much pain.
And in the end, your body may break, but your spirit's due to surprise you.
Butterfly, you can try your bright wings. Let your spirit fly.
A chrysalis really is a fine thing -- 'til it's time to take the sky.
--Meg Barnhouse, Chrysalis, Mango Thoughts in a Meatloaf Town

Learning life lessons

Perhaps nothing ever really attacks us except our own confusion. Maybe the only enemy is that we don't like the way reality is NOW and therefore wish it would go away fast. But what we find as practitioners is that nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know. Even if we run a hundred miles an hour to the other side of the continent, we find the very same problem awaiting us when we arrive. It keeps returning with new names, forms, and manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us.

Where are we separating ourselves from reality? How are we pulling back instead of opening up? How are we closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter?
-- Pema Chodron, Comfortable with Uncertainty

Learning life lessons. This seems to be my year for learning lots of difficult lessons. Divorce, loss of job, questioning my identity, questioning my orientation … it’s all hitting at once, and hitting hard, with lots of questions and little understanding of where I should go next, why this is all happening to me at once, and how to best proceed with the next tiny step forward.

Perhaps my goal should be to just sit in peace and listen to what the universe is now screaming for me to hear. With trepidation for how I might jinx myself, I could say that life couldn’t get much more difficult and confusing. Of course I know it could – someone could get sick or die. Please, goddess, don’t add that to my life right now. I promise to sit still and pay attention.

I could wish for life as it currently stands for me to go away! I am tired of struggling to understand, tired of trying to figure out what to do next, tired of thinking so hard I’m making my very brain hurt. I am tired, period. I don’t sleep well, I am worried, it’s draining to live in constant uncertainty.

And yet, in my deepest core, I understand that it’s time for me to learn a life lesson. Another fucking growth experience, my friends and I call it. My life is full of them right now. How will I sit still and listen?

I started drawing tarot cards. I have friends who use tarot very successfully to guide them in their lives, help them understand the choices they are facing, understand the challenges life is giving them, help them bring their unconscious out to conscious, to ponder and explore.

I am trying to be more deliberate about prayer. I am trying to light a candle each day, and think about someone who needs help, energy, kind thoughts, light, vibes, or is in need in any way. I am also trying to remember to be conscious and deliberate about sending out my cosmic requests for a fulfilling lifework that pays enough for the girls and I to live without discomfort, and for me to find a partner in life.

I am reading, reading, reading, trying to learn about some of the changes I’m going through, how to understand why I’m going through them, how I can best survive the experiences, and how to thrive in spite of the changes.

I am talking with friends. Processing aloud or in writing helps me. Talking about my experiences helps me. Talking with others who have had similar experiences helps me. I have joined some new groups specifically for support. One is a new online covenant group with the UU Church of the Larger Fellowship, where I am able to explore the spiritual aspects of where I am in life. Another is for women who are questioning. And I continue to stay in communication with some dear local friends and long distance friends who are either going through the same things, or have been there before me and can share resources. All of these groups of people in my life are helping me process in different ways.

And finally, I have made a commitment to writing on a regular basis, as a spiritual practice. I am journaling on paper, and blogging.

So I am here, universe. I am listening. I am ready to learn my lesson.

Ministry to Others

Over the last few weeks, I entered into one of the most challenging self-reflective periods of my life. It was a required exercise, part of a structured discussion within a covenant group.

We were asked to look at our ministry to others: how we live our values, how we affect others. I found that the exercise had a profound impact on me.

What a surprise, at the onset, to find how difficult it was for me to even ask for feedback from friends. I was to ask someone(s) I trusted how I had affected their lives, how they saw me living my values. I was nervous about making that request. What if they didn’t see me living any values? What if I hadn’t had an effect on their lives, what if I hadn’t made any difference at all?

It’s funny. Making a difference in the world has been of primary importance in my life, from some of my earliest memories. I can think all the way back to Kindergarten, as a four-year-old, just starting school. I walked into a situation where several classmates were teasing one other, mocking him for looking like a chimpanzee. Now I admit that the poor child had the most prominent ears that I’ve ever seen, before or since. But that still was not a reason to tease him about his unfortunate ear shape, especially not in such a cruel way. And tears in a child are always a sign that teasing has gone too far and should be stopped immediately. Even a four-year-old knows that.

I can’t remember what, if anything, I did to help in the immediate situation. I do remember coming home to cry with my mother about how unfair it was. I can remember resolving to not let it happen again. And that was a start to a resolve to fight injustice in the world that continues to this day.

Asking those questions, “How have I affected your life? How do you see me living out my values?” was a stretch for me. It took me a week to work up enough nerve, first to figure out who I could even ask that would understand the question, and then later, to actually pose the question in an email and click on the send button.

One friend who responded reminded me that direct positive feedback was one of the most effective ways of modeling desired behavior that we know. We had both worked as communication skills instructors, teaching volunteers the skills to ask questions, improve their helping techniques, and resolve conflict. She also admitted that it was something she feared herself, too. “What if they give me feedback about things I want to deny about myself?” This friend then went on to give me some beautiful and direct answers to my questions, as did many others.

The responses left me weeping. Sometimes a small word or gesture has a transformative effect on another, and we have no idea. To be given the opportunity to hear and read that I have made specific and positive differences in the lives of others was a humbling and healing event for me. I recently lost a contract for a job that was ministry to me, a ministry that I believed I was called to do. Losing that contract was a severe blow to my self-confidence, my belief that I could make a difference in someone’s life. Receiving specific feedback from others about how I have made a difference in their lives has helped me recover some of that basic trust in self that I need to survive in this world.

What still remains for me is to find a new way to minister to others. How can I share my passion for righting the wrongs of the world? How can I issue a call to action? How will I now make a difference in the world?

Missing You

Lips, tender and sweet.
The curve of your cheek
soft and smooth under my lips.
Long silky hair that brushes my body
as you trail your lips along my side.
Soft sighs.
Smiles touching your eyes,
losing me deep in your soul.
Arms, hands, and fingers reaching,
stroking,
teasing.
Deep moist throbbing.
Catch of the breath.
Soft beautiful noises
with my fingers deep inside you.
Quivering.
Melting into sleep,
legs entwined.
I miss you.

Motivation

Motivation has been especially difficult for me lately. Perhaps it’s because I don’t seem to be doing much of anything right in my life. I’ve had so many hopes dashed lately; it becomes more and more difficult to try the next option.

How does one keep motivated?

I was reflecting to some friends yesterday that I found it almost impossible to keep up with the demands of family, job search, house, food; I am allowing my friendships to fall by the wayside. In part, it’s because I don’t see many friends on a daily basis, at drop-off or pick-up at school. So it requires more effort to pick up a phone or send an email to check in with friends. And they aren’t checking in with me, either. Are they equally as busy, and also taking a needed break from the incredible demands placed on working mothers during the school year?

We become so overloaded during that September to June time frame, juggling family and work, making time to volunteer in school, see the class play or attend the party, find time to cook, clean, wash the laundry, cart children to classes and play dates, help with homework, sleep (what’s that??? I forget!). The blessed relief from school pressures – no homework, no extra demands – perhaps that’s made us all hole up in our homes, relishing the relative reduction in responsibilities. Are we all in the same boat?

Well, that might be one explanation for one small lack of motivation in my life. I know another small concern of mine (ok, not so small concern) is that I will be a burden on my friends. It’s harder to be cheerful and positive with no immediate hopes in my future. I don’t want to be a wet blanket. So I struggle with how I can allow myself to be with friends when I need their support, and fear overloading them with my lack of confidence and neediness right now.

Then there’s the plain and simple fear of making the wrong decision. I need to get over that one, and can’t put it any plainer or simpler to myself. No sense being paralyzed with indecision because I fear making the wrong decision. If it doesn’t work, then I can try something different. I have nothing to lose but a small amount of time. I am cursed with the personality trait of needing to be ready before I leap. And that might be a good trait to have when I am anticipating jumping out of an airplane with only a small parachute to carry me safely to the ground, but it’s not such a great trait when I need to decide what to do with my life. Especially when I’m running out of time and options for further education, and aware that unemployment will run out in too few short months.

I have a bad habit of concentrating too hard on the one immediate project. I get so caught up in the latest idea or possibility that it becomes nearly impossible to think about other options. That needs to stop, too. I can be working on several job leads at once, and don’t need to wait to go onto the next one only after the current option falls through. Having several options open at the same time might be the confidence booster I need to succeed in an interview … knowing I don’t need this job might be just the attitude that will help me get the job!

I’m also wondering why it has been so difficult to network for myself in the way that I can so easily network for a cause or my children or a friend? Why is it so difficult for me to ask for help? Am I afraid of showing my weaknesses? Am I afraid of looking like a failure? Am I afraid of not looking self-sufficient? Am I afraid of showing my vulnerability?

Ironically, I know the answer to all of those questions. Yes, I am afraid of all of those things, especially the vulnerability issue. I am working really hard on that one, helped by a friend who took me over the edge of my security and back again in an amazing way. It’s not been easy, learning how frightened I am of appearing vulnerable, how difficult it is to show my vulnerability to my friends. I’m afraid I’m really walking around naked, in my emperor’s new clothes.

Little baby steps are taking me along the path of showing my vulnerability. I can open up to one friend at a time, and the rewards are immeasurable, rich beyond belief. To be afraid to show a part of myself that feels vulnerable, to give that piece openly to another, with trust in my heart, and to receive back love and support in return. That reward might very well be worth any number of rejections that I might possibly receive.

So I keep trying. One baby step at a time, I put myself out there, in all my glorious vulnerability and fear and uncertainty, with trust and love, and the universe seems to answer with a return that gives back so much more. I get back acceptance, love, more trust, and it builds my self-confidence.

Why then, does it continue to be the very hardest thing in the world, to trust a person with my vulnerability?

Keeping Faith

What an extraordinary thing faith is. When everything is going your way, when you feel on top of the world, it’s easy to keep faith. But what do you do when your world comes crashing down around you? How do you keep faith as you watch the fabric of your life unravel?

For me, faith is my trust in the rightness of the world. Trust that people will act with good intention. Trust that in the end, life will work out in the best possible way, even when I’m not understanding why I’m facing the challenges I currently have. Trust that when a door closes, a window will open somewhere else. Trust that life will be good again.

Today, finding that trust is especially challenging for me … I trusted a bureaucrat to know what he was talking about (mistake #1). I made the mistake of not verifying all the details myself. Now that a deal has fallen through that I was counting on, I am feeling bereft. I am struggling to regain the trust, the faith, which will carry me through another tough period of uncertainty and worry as I watch the unraveling of my life.

I have had one friend write to me that she is praying for the knitting up of my unraveling sleeve of life. Another friend wrote that I was just building a new pattern of stitches, and yet another that I would have a beautiful new quilt to comfort me when I am done. I struggle once again to regain my already shaken equilibrium, wrack my rattled and severely bruised brain to think about how I can recover from one more deep disappointment and still stay sane for my daughters. It would be much easier to dissolve into a puddle of tears, crawl into bed, and not come out for a few weeks.

That question of faith is especially on my mind this week, because I think I may have lost it all. It’s frightening to watch my slow descent into the pits of despair. I don’t like it here, I don’t like the feeling of not knowing whether I can succeed in life, I don’t like the shaken self-confidence I’m experiencing, and I’m not certain how to pull myself out this time.

At the same time, I am painfully aware that I am a single mom, that I have three beautiful daughters depending on me, and I can’t just give up. I have to find a way to crawl out of this pit, and rebuild a life for myself. There must surely be the right job out there for me; there must surely be someone who is willing to take a risk on me, even without relevant experience. There must surely be a place where I can share my gifts, and find healing in the capability to help others.

I find, when it comes right down to the broken fingernails and dirt- and tear-streaked face, as I claw my way out of my pit, that my faith has to come from within. I must remember my faith in myself – I am strong, I am creative, I am an amazing person, I am worthy. And when I can remember that faith in myself, I will once again be able to trust in the world as an essentially good place. I will be able to find the good in others, I will be able to forgive the humanity, complete with failures and incompetencies and foibles, of the people who have let me down. I will be able to give back to the greater good in humanity, to share of myself in the essential ways that make me who I am. I will find wholeness again.

A friend asked me, a few weeks ago, whether I sent out my cosmic request. I had to stop and think about it, and realized, perhaps not. I’m so uncertain about how to proceed, with my life falling down around me, that I’m paralyzed with indecision, fraught with fear of making the wrong choice, bested by my deteriorating self-confidence. I thought long and hard about what it was that I wanted next from life. Do I want a new challenge that will fill me with joie de vivre? Do I want to settle for enough money and time to be a good parent to my girls? Do I want to hold out for a combination of both?

My answer, after hours and days of deliberating, was my cosmic request. Here it is, pay attention universe. I’m expecting delivery, as soon as possible!

My request is for life work that will complete me, for a relationship that will be healthy and loving, and for financial security, while I’m at it, just in case the work that completes my soul pays shit.

Family sacrifices

What is it about family that makes us so crazy? Why is it that family can make us sacrifice more than any other single being in our lives, and why does it drive us so insane to make those sacrifices?

This weekend, I'm taking Praxis exams. I just finished them, actually. My brain is fried. I dredged stuff back up that I'd happily forgotten for the last 20 or 30 or more years. I wrote pages on ideas that I didn't understand, expostulated on theories that I pulled out of my imagination, made best guesses after ruling out the obviously incorrect choices. In short, I relived high school all over again, in six long and grueling hours.

And I'll be darned - I came back to my mom's, looked up one of the answers that I took a wild stab at answering, and wow! I actually answered it fairly well. Essays, of course, are subjective evaluations, so it remains to be seen if my answers were literate enough and included enough reasoning to get the points I need. But the basic facts were there, amazingly enough, in spite of rather wild guessing. Well, ok, given the US history I do know and the recent cramming to squeeze more facts into my poor tired old brain, perhaps it wasn’t quite wild guessing, but reasoned hypothesizing with a good dose of luck and some decent writing skill thrown in.

Here's where the family stuff comes in. Upon returning to my car, when I could turn my cell phone back on (they are outlawed while testing, understandably so), I found frantic messages from my mom, letting me know that dinner had been changed, it was now two hours later, and one hour further distant. So I could relax and not break all speed barriers trying to get back for dinner. (We're taking my aunt out to dinner.)

Now, instead of dinner at 3, only an hour and a half from home, we're having dinner at 5:30, two and a half hours from my home. We're driving home tonight because we have a friend from Vancouver visiting us for about 18 hours, stopping overnight on her way from Boston to Florida. My mom did know this at one point, because we originally scheduled the dinner for Saturday so my girls and I could attend, squeezing in our time between the testing schedule and the visiting friend schedule.

To further complicate the matter, instead of a restaurant where I know all three of my picky-eater daughters will find at least one dish that they could enjoy, we're now headed to the middle of nowhere to eat in a restaurant where none of us like the food, and probably pay a lot more for the privilege of not enjoying our dinner, on a non-existent income, anticipating being a pathetically poor single mom full-time student.

I’ve been up since 5 am, left the house at 6 am, and spent an intense day testing. My mom knows this, too, because she got up with me this morning to make coffee, and said a prayer this morning for me to have success in testing, since so much of my future rides on the results. I had a two-hour round trip drive to the test, and spent 6 hours at the testing center. She knew all of this, too, because we were calculating whether I’d make it back in time to drive my girls to the original dinner place/time, since my mom can’t fit all three of my girls, my aunt, my sister and herself all in her tiny car.

So what would possess my mom to make her change the dinner to a much later time, adding an hour onto my drive, on top of an exhausting day? I’m not sure.

And the thing is, we’ll go. And I won’t say a word about it, because it’s too late to change back at this point, so what good will it do to complain? It will just make everyone else miserable. I’ll suck up and eat a lousy dinner, spending too much to do so. I’ll endure the whining of my teenaged daughter, who will be upset at how late we’re getting home tonight because she’s tired, too, and needs the weekends to catch up on her sleep and doesn’t have much time to sleep this weekend. And my mom will never know, unless she happens upon this blog, how much chaos she’s added into an already chaotic life. And I’ll never tell her, because what good will it do to tell a 73 year old woman, trying to pacify her 81 year old sister, that she’s made her daughter’s life worse?

It’s funny. It doesn’t feel good to make this self-sacrifice, the way it would make me feel good to help a friend get to the doctor with a broken foot, or to give up Thanksgiving Dinner in order to work in the homeless shelter, or to bypass the chocolate cake for the sake of the dress I want to wear to the conference next month. Is that because I’m equally taking for granted my parent, thinking she should just know that she’s made my life more difficult? Or that she should at least have hesitated before making the change, maybe tried harder to reach me first, or even ask my 15-year-old if she thought I’d care? At least my daughter would have reminded her that we had company coming on Sunday. And had she recognized the restaurant name, she might have remembered that none of us liked it very much when we were there before.

I wouldn’t resent a friend calling me to ask if I’d take her to the ER because she thought she’d broken a bone in her foot. I do resent having to spend all the extra time and money on an already overloaded weekend, without even being asked. Maybe it’s the asking. Or rather, the not asking, the being taken for granted. Perhaps there’s a lesson I can take away from this.

Perhaps, the next time I force my daughters to make a difficult choice between attending the last day of camp and attending their cousin’s birthday party, I can be more sympathetic. And maybe I should remind them, while I’m at it, that at least I’ve allowed them to make their own difficult choice, rather than present them with the ultimatum of a done deal that is all around bad for them, without even thinking of consulting them first.

Nah, probably won’t do any good. After all, I’m their mom …

Curiosity

What is it that drives humans to learn? Why are we curious? What causes some people to continue to question and drive themselves further and further along the path of knowledge, while others are content to receive an explanation from a figure of authority, and hold that explanation as the final truth, never to be questioned.

Learning theories have been front and center in my mind, as I cram several decades of book learning back into my brain, at least temporarily, so that I can spew it out on a standardized test that I must pass in order to change careers and become a teacher. I wonder, will I be doomed to force my students into the same path, or will I be able to find another way to encourage joy in learning, so that they willingly embrace questions, actively and continuously seek answers, and thirst for new knowledge?

I’m pleased to admit that I remember more than I have forgotten. And sad to admit that very little of that came from school learning, and much more came from the relearning that I accomplished with my children during the years we homeschooled together. It was those years of homeschooling that returned my joy in learning to me. I don’t think it went away altogether; I still continued to take classes, either for professional development or for enrichment and my own enjoyment, before I had children. But it wasn’t until I threw myself into Ancient Egyptian history for several years, delving ever deeper into the mysteries of hieroglyphics and how mummies are created (complete with a model using an orange) and how those pyramids really were built, that I understood how learning can be sheer joy.

As I continue to cram into my poor tired old brain unrelated facts and theories like “What is onomatopoeia again?” and “How do I use the Pythagorean formula?” and “Why is the Monroe Doctrine important to our country?”, I ponder how I will be able to relay these ideas to children, in a way that becomes meaningful and fun.

Where I begin a new life...

This summer, I managed to lose a large part of my life's work, my ministry to the world. It's been a summer of ups and downs, magnificent life-changing highs, lows that kept me in bed with raging headaches all day. This week, the future is looking positive again, and while I'm walking around a bit dazed by my recent spate of good news, I am feeling better about myself, my ability to care for my three beautiful daughters as a single mom, and the understanding that life really does present us with opportunities, when we have enough wit to recognize those opportunities as they peek around a blind corner at us.

I lost my job at the beginning of the summer. It was a difficult life lesson. I thought I had a calling as a religious educator for a Unitarian Universalist congregation, but I wasn't what my last congregation wanted. It was a demoralizing experience. It removed just about every shred of my self-confidence, at a time when I needed to hang onto every shred that I could. I'm also in the middle of a divorce of an 18-year marriage, and have three beautiful daughters in my care.

Just to make sure that I learned my lesson well, the universe decided to not give me anything easily. The two amazing jobs that I thought would be perfect for me were not offered to me. In both situations, there were other people more qualified than me. How could that be? I'm 49 years old, I've worked hard all my life, I have some good solid skills and lots of knowledge under my belt, I'm good at sharing my passions and interests with others and helping them see how they can help make the world a little better for us all. Why wouldn't anyone just jump at the chance to offer me a job? How much more demoralizing can life be?

To further complicate things, I couldn't find any work in religious education within commuting distance, and didn't know what else I would be qualified to do. At 49, I was having to think, again, about what I wanted to do when I grew up. I couldn't go back to my original career in information systems - I had been home raising children and working in another field for 11 years, I had no viable skills left and would have to start over in that field, which I couldn't afford. I thought I had enough skills to teach, but didn't have the credentials to get a teaching job in my state, and missed deadlines to take any of the alternate routes to teaching, because I didn't know I was losing my job in time. I like to write, and even have editing experience, but how to break into that field without actual job experience?

While trying to do a realistic evaluation of my skills and interests and abilities, I realized that the parts of my last job as religious educator that brought me the most satisfaction were the times when I was actually able to work with children and youth. I was most engaged when working with children about how to live in right relations in our world, how to work toward making our world better, for us, for others, for the planet itself. Somehow, I needed to be able to continue to work with children, to engage their curiosity, to encourage them in their efforts to become incredible human beings. Teaching seemed a natural choice, but I didn't have the right paperwork qualifications to get a job. What next?

Well, the message I am taking, in the end, from this summer of panic and loss is that I need to learn more. And so the universe has provided, in an opportunity that has taken my breathe away, left me stunned and reeling in amazement at my good fortune. I am offered an opportunity to attend university, on vouchers that will cover my entire tuition, at graduate school level. I will be able to keep my unemployment benefits, as part of a retraining package. Next May, I will walk away with teaching credentials, highly qualified, and be 2/3 of the way through a Master of Arts in Teaching degree. I can't quite wrap my mind around my good fortune.

So I'm starting this blog to take you, dear reader, through this amazing journey with me, as I go back to graduate school after more than 20 years. As a single mom, too. With a heavy load of 11 credits each semester, plus the need to substitute teach or do some freelance writing for extra income, because in New Jersey, unemployment benefits are barely going to cover rent, utilities, and food. And I'm thinking about how high fuel prices are already, and the draft old farmhouse that we're renting, and how much I'll have to pay for heating this coming winter. eek.