The time is upon us where the nights will gradually become longer, and the daylight will thumb its nose at the preposterous notion of "savings time"...and it's time for our annual Winter Solstice celebration. This tradition began as a way to include all of our friends, several of whom are Jewish, Muslim, or simply non-Christian. Everybody can be happy about longer days, right?
And then I got the email about the family Christmas gathering from my mom.
"It is not just a winter holiday or the winter solstice as the politically correct people seem to think. How sad for the misguided, misled liberal thinkers. How I pray that the Holy Spirit would pop a light bulb of truth in their brains."
I love my family. I adore my mother. I don't agree with some of the religious or political viewpoints that my family holds, but we're still blood. So, Thanks, Mom! I really appreciate the prayers!
And, we can all appreciate the fact that we'll be able to enjoy more sunlight, minute by each precious minute. Happy Holidays, y'all!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Buddha Light
I just returned from a wonderful weekend conference at Harvard with His Holiness GrandMaster Lin Yun , leader of the 4th Stage of the Black Hat Sect of Tantric Buddhism. He is also the person responsible for bringing the more spiritual, less dogmatic type of Feng Shui that I practice to the U.S. I arrived in Boston expecting to learn a lot about "The Most Secretive of the Secretive Cures" and other arcane Feng Shui knowledge.
I left with a new respect for Buddhism in general.
Sure, I received many new tips and techniques to use on my Feng Shui appointments, but the tapestry that was woven around the lessons was rich and varied. I'm not one who is easily impressed by outward displays of reverence or flash. In fact, many of the participants turned me off by their sycophantic words of praise and adulation for Professor Lin. And even when I met him, it wasn't like there was a flash of light, angels surrounding him, or even any loud gongs sounding. It wasn't until the next day, when he gave us a glimpse of the sense of humor that lies buried in the intricacies of his native Mandarin, and his graciousness about allowing photos to be taken with him that I began to see why people are so fond of him.
I had been approaching him as a mere teacher, not the mentor that they were.
Many of the participants shed tears as the weekend drew to a close. I guess if I had been following someone around the world for 15-20 years, and now that time was nearing the end, I would be sad, too. I guess I still don't understand the devotion that comes with that type of dedication. Bands have their groupies...why not a spiritual teacher?
Some of the knowledge imparted still doesn't seem practical, but once my Western mind wraps itself around it, I'm sure I'll be able to adapt it properly to my clients' needs. All I can say is, if anyone has a really old Chinese cooking wok with a black bottom, please don't throw it away! Let me know and I'll tell you how it can serve you, all for the price of 9 red envelopes!
I took part in a special ceremony at the end of the weekend, too. While they called it "Refuge", and many actually prostrated themselved in front of Professor Lin, I perceived it as a type of blessing ceremony. The Buddhist nature of it was fascinating...so accepting of others and their belief systems...they actually stressed that they did NOT want anyone to convert to Buddhism, that the participants should keep their current belief systems. Wow! What a change to the standard Christian practice of Convert & Conquer...
I got a Chi Infusion from him, which left me energetically charged for days, too. That man has great energy! And eventually, I'll get a small golden Buddha statue, which will contain the energy of both Professor Lin and Crystal Chu, his successor.
Her Holiness Khadro Crystal Chu Rinpoche will take over teaching these Feng Shui seminars, as well as continue her work as a teacher of Buddhist philosophies around the world, once the 78-yr-old Professor chooses to retire. The fact that a woman was chosen to fill his shoes is huge...historically, women weren't even allowed to know anything about Feng Shui, let alone be the leader of a world-wide organization! She is a lovely and gracious individual, and I look forward to seeing what she will offer in her time.
I realized, too, that many of the meditations and prayers that I already say are not dissimilar to the ones presented during the weekend. The biggest difference was the vocabulary surrounding the invitation to allow the Universal Light into your heart. They simply used "Buddha Light"...but it's all Love. God's Love. Buddha's Love. Allah's Love. Sweet Spirit.
And it's all Good!
I left with a new respect for Buddhism in general.
Sure, I received many new tips and techniques to use on my Feng Shui appointments, but the tapestry that was woven around the lessons was rich and varied. I'm not one who is easily impressed by outward displays of reverence or flash. In fact, many of the participants turned me off by their sycophantic words of praise and adulation for Professor Lin. And even when I met him, it wasn't like there was a flash of light, angels surrounding him, or even any loud gongs sounding. It wasn't until the next day, when he gave us a glimpse of the sense of humor that lies buried in the intricacies of his native Mandarin, and his graciousness about allowing photos to be taken with him that I began to see why people are so fond of him.
I had been approaching him as a mere teacher, not the mentor that they were.
Many of the participants shed tears as the weekend drew to a close. I guess if I had been following someone around the world for 15-20 years, and now that time was nearing the end, I would be sad, too. I guess I still don't understand the devotion that comes with that type of dedication. Bands have their groupies...why not a spiritual teacher?
Some of the knowledge imparted still doesn't seem practical, but once my Western mind wraps itself around it, I'm sure I'll be able to adapt it properly to my clients' needs. All I can say is, if anyone has a really old Chinese cooking wok with a black bottom, please don't throw it away! Let me know and I'll tell you how it can serve you, all for the price of 9 red envelopes!
I took part in a special ceremony at the end of the weekend, too. While they called it "Refuge", and many actually prostrated themselved in front of Professor Lin, I perceived it as a type of blessing ceremony. The Buddhist nature of it was fascinating...so accepting of others and their belief systems...they actually stressed that they did NOT want anyone to convert to Buddhism, that the participants should keep their current belief systems. Wow! What a change to the standard Christian practice of Convert & Conquer...
I got a Chi Infusion from him, which left me energetically charged for days, too. That man has great energy! And eventually, I'll get a small golden Buddha statue, which will contain the energy of both Professor Lin and Crystal Chu, his successor.
Her Holiness Khadro Crystal Chu Rinpoche will take over teaching these Feng Shui seminars, as well as continue her work as a teacher of Buddhist philosophies around the world, once the 78-yr-old Professor chooses to retire. The fact that a woman was chosen to fill his shoes is huge...historically, women weren't even allowed to know anything about Feng Shui, let alone be the leader of a world-wide organization! She is a lovely and gracious individual, and I look forward to seeing what she will offer in her time.
I realized, too, that many of the meditations and prayers that I already say are not dissimilar to the ones presented during the weekend. The biggest difference was the vocabulary surrounding the invitation to allow the Universal Light into your heart. They simply used "Buddha Light"...but it's all Love. God's Love. Buddha's Love. Allah's Love. Sweet Spirit.
And it's all Good!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Mum Madness
Some days, I wonder just what planet I live on, but then I realize that it's just Texas. My latest foray into the unknown culture of this place began with a late-night quest for the mythical Homecoming Mum. Of course, all of the local grocery stores and Walgreens were already depleted of their allotted beribboned adornments, so I had no choice but to wait for Hobby Lobby to open the next day.
There, I was greeted by a meager assortment of baubles and bells, as well as the bases for this traditional item. I thought I had struck the jackpot when I found a pre-made one for the low, low price of...(insert choking sound here)... $45! I beat feet to Michael's, thinking that surely they would be cheaper there.
Oh, but I would be wrong. I did find a nicer pre-made one for $50, and one that was even cooler for $99, but I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of paying someone else to glue-gun and staple loads of ribbon, crappy-do ornaments, and curled ribbons onto what can only be described as an overly festooned rosette.
In fact, the last time I had seen a rosette like that was when I won Grand Champion Swine Showperson as a Senior in my own High School back in Kansas! So, why were we now pinning these things on all of the girls on their respective Homecoming weekends?
Apparently, because the bigger the Mum, the more you are loved.
And because Texans like everything big, these things have taken on ridiculous proportions. In fact, I was given an important piece of advice...put a necklace on it so it doesn't rip the girl's clothing. Yep, they're that big.
And it's not just for the girls. The boys have their own, albeit smaller, sized mum to wear on their arms. Garter belts...on steroids. Hopefully that's the only thing that's on steroids, because, after all, this is Texas and they like their football players big.
Because I'm a crafty gal when I want to be, I plunked down my $43 and took my booty home to create what I thought would be the ugliest, most gaudy piece of fluff imaginable...in other words, perfect. A surprising thing happened while wielding this glue gun, though...I began to swear like a sailor! Granted, this isn't a side of me that I like very much, and have successfully kept it under wraps for over 20 years, but this tradition is so overtly biased that I found myself struggling to not through the entire thing in the trash.
I'm all for traditions. I just find that spending upwards of $200 on an overgrown chrysanthemum is rather egregious.
I'm also very grateful that I didn't grow up with this particular tradition. As the youngest of 8 in a poor farming family, we didn't have extra money to lavish on many extras. Granted, I probably would have worked extra hours in the summer laboring in the fields to save enough to get whatever I could in order to "fit in". I did just that for many other reasons that today, seem quite trivial if I remember them at all.
It finally dawned on me that the reason for my profanity wasn't because it was hard, or because we couldn't afford it. It was because I kept thinking of all of the other girls who wouldn't be getting one. You see, I would have been one of the mum-less. I was never part of the "in crowd", which was even more exclusive in the 62-person high school of my youth.
After the contraption became a legitimate work of Texas art, I began to wonder at the stress I had just put on myself. A big part of it was because I didn't want to disappoint my son, who was really excited to give it to his girlfriend. Anytime he wants to involve me in his life, I'm there, so because this was important to him, it was important to me. The other huge piece was the sheer hypocracy of it all. After all, I constantly espouse the concept that we are all one, that what happens to a part affects the whole, and that everyone has a value that is beyond measure. Yet here I was, curling golden ribbon into ringlets so this mum would have enough bling to blind Stevie Wonder again.
I guess that goes to show you that even an enlightened individual (most of the time, anyway) gets caught up in the fever pitch of the masses, especially if it involves your children.
There, I was greeted by a meager assortment of baubles and bells, as well as the bases for this traditional item. I thought I had struck the jackpot when I found a pre-made one for the low, low price of...(insert choking sound here)... $45! I beat feet to Michael's, thinking that surely they would be cheaper there.
Oh, but I would be wrong. I did find a nicer pre-made one for $50, and one that was even cooler for $99, but I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of paying someone else to glue-gun and staple loads of ribbon, crappy-do ornaments, and curled ribbons onto what can only be described as an overly festooned rosette.
In fact, the last time I had seen a rosette like that was when I won Grand Champion Swine Showperson as a Senior in my own High School back in Kansas! So, why were we now pinning these things on all of the girls on their respective Homecoming weekends?
Apparently, because the bigger the Mum, the more you are loved.
And because Texans like everything big, these things have taken on ridiculous proportions. In fact, I was given an important piece of advice...put a necklace on it so it doesn't rip the girl's clothing. Yep, they're that big.
And it's not just for the girls. The boys have their own, albeit smaller, sized mum to wear on their arms. Garter belts...on steroids. Hopefully that's the only thing that's on steroids, because, after all, this is Texas and they like their football players big.
Because I'm a crafty gal when I want to be, I plunked down my $43 and took my booty home to create what I thought would be the ugliest, most gaudy piece of fluff imaginable...in other words, perfect. A surprising thing happened while wielding this glue gun, though...I began to swear like a sailor! Granted, this isn't a side of me that I like very much, and have successfully kept it under wraps for over 20 years, but this tradition is so overtly biased that I found myself struggling to not through the entire thing in the trash.
I'm all for traditions. I just find that spending upwards of $200 on an overgrown chrysanthemum is rather egregious.
I'm also very grateful that I didn't grow up with this particular tradition. As the youngest of 8 in a poor farming family, we didn't have extra money to lavish on many extras. Granted, I probably would have worked extra hours in the summer laboring in the fields to save enough to get whatever I could in order to "fit in". I did just that for many other reasons that today, seem quite trivial if I remember them at all.
It finally dawned on me that the reason for my profanity wasn't because it was hard, or because we couldn't afford it. It was because I kept thinking of all of the other girls who wouldn't be getting one. You see, I would have been one of the mum-less. I was never part of the "in crowd", which was even more exclusive in the 62-person high school of my youth.
After the contraption became a legitimate work of Texas art, I began to wonder at the stress I had just put on myself. A big part of it was because I didn't want to disappoint my son, who was really excited to give it to his girlfriend. Anytime he wants to involve me in his life, I'm there, so because this was important to him, it was important to me. The other huge piece was the sheer hypocracy of it all. After all, I constantly espouse the concept that we are all one, that what happens to a part affects the whole, and that everyone has a value that is beyond measure. Yet here I was, curling golden ribbon into ringlets so this mum would have enough bling to blind Stevie Wonder again.
I guess that goes to show you that even an enlightened individual (most of the time, anyway) gets caught up in the fever pitch of the masses, especially if it involves your children.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Flipping the Switch
There are some days when you think that all is well with the world, and what little there is that isn't working can simply be cured by a snooze in front of the TV. And then there are days when you wake up from that dozey state and the world just looks wrong.
Last night was one of those days.
I racked my brain trying to figure out why I woke up being hyper-critical of my children's action (when they truly hadn't been doing anything wrong), and why I was still extremely moody this morning when I noticed the date at the top of the newspaper: August 20th.
7 years ago, we dropped Kathryn off at her first full day of kindergarten. Then we drove to Baylor Medical Center to start the first round of my chemotherapy.
I truly thought I had addressed these emotional connections with this date through all of my various means of mental/emotional/energy/psychological work, but here I am, tears streaming down my face, emotions on my sleeve, intestines in my throat...that same heart-pounding fear coursing through my veins as if I were going to make that drive and get The Red Devil (Adriamycin) pumped into me.
I feel like a failure for allowing this to happen. AGAIN. And yet, I know that I'm not, since I'm aware enough to make this connection. And the more I allow these emotions to flow through me, the calmer I am about knowing that they won't get stuck somewhere in my tissues. I've had a great deal of pain and discomfort in my upper back area, so much so that my left hand and fingers will occasionally tingle with that pinched-nerve feeling. I haven't made time for a massage or chiropractor, so it will have to wait until Saturday, but in the meantime, I checked out my trusty "Heal Your Body" book by Louise Hay. This connects physical ailments with the metaphysical and emotional connections to them. Here's what it says about 5-T, the vertebrae where the tightness & pain begins:
Refusing to process the emotions. Dammed-up feelings, rage.
I have to accept the fact that I'm not the one controlling anything. Yes, I have great influence on how I react to situations and events, but not on the actual events. Even my own emotions are tossed around like a toy boat in a bathtub when the turbulence of deeply buried feelings bubble up from below. I guess a dam burst last night, and it's leaking out through my eyes.
The affirmation that accompanies this is also a good one to live by:
I let life flow through me. I am willing to live. All is well.
I've lost 2 people close to my own age lately from cancer, and yesterday another dear person asked me about a pea-sized lump that seems to be attached to her ribcage. She has 3 young children, and a family history to boot. You bet that unnerved me. I don't want anyone to have to deal with what I did, but at the same time, I'm powerless to stop it.
I let life flow through me. I am willing to live. All is well.
Last night was one of those days.
I racked my brain trying to figure out why I woke up being hyper-critical of my children's action (when they truly hadn't been doing anything wrong), and why I was still extremely moody this morning when I noticed the date at the top of the newspaper: August 20th.
7 years ago, we dropped Kathryn off at her first full day of kindergarten. Then we drove to Baylor Medical Center to start the first round of my chemotherapy.
I truly thought I had addressed these emotional connections with this date through all of my various means of mental/emotional/energy/psychological work, but here I am, tears streaming down my face, emotions on my sleeve, intestines in my throat...that same heart-pounding fear coursing through my veins as if I were going to make that drive and get The Red Devil (Adriamycin) pumped into me.
I feel like a failure for allowing this to happen. AGAIN. And yet, I know that I'm not, since I'm aware enough to make this connection. And the more I allow these emotions to flow through me, the calmer I am about knowing that they won't get stuck somewhere in my tissues. I've had a great deal of pain and discomfort in my upper back area, so much so that my left hand and fingers will occasionally tingle with that pinched-nerve feeling. I haven't made time for a massage or chiropractor, so it will have to wait until Saturday, but in the meantime, I checked out my trusty "Heal Your Body" book by Louise Hay. This connects physical ailments with the metaphysical and emotional connections to them. Here's what it says about 5-T, the vertebrae where the tightness & pain begins:
Refusing to process the emotions. Dammed-up feelings, rage.
I have to accept the fact that I'm not the one controlling anything. Yes, I have great influence on how I react to situations and events, but not on the actual events. Even my own emotions are tossed around like a toy boat in a bathtub when the turbulence of deeply buried feelings bubble up from below. I guess a dam burst last night, and it's leaking out through my eyes.
The affirmation that accompanies this is also a good one to live by:
I let life flow through me. I am willing to live. All is well.
I've lost 2 people close to my own age lately from cancer, and yesterday another dear person asked me about a pea-sized lump that seems to be attached to her ribcage. She has 3 young children, and a family history to boot. You bet that unnerved me. I don't want anyone to have to deal with what I did, but at the same time, I'm powerless to stop it.
I let life flow through me. I am willing to live. All is well.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Time for Tomatoes!
At long last, I have a garden! A real one, with actual soil, not the clay stuff that came with the house. Raised beds, lovingly built by my adorable husband and filled with the black gold by the same sweet man and my increasingly buff son.
And then it sat.
And sat.
And sat.
The soil's organic matter decomposed, leaving the beds only half full. Grass began to peek around the edges of the 2x8x10 boards and tickled my feet when I walked on the pavestones placed in between the 2 large beds. My men began to fear that all of their hard work was for naught.
However, today I finally did something with them. 6 more bags of topsoil and 22 plants later, I have some green stuff sprouting from them! Because of the late date, I focused one bed on strictly ornamental flowering plants - annuals, since next spring that bed will be providing all sorts of yummy veggies. The other bed had 4 tomato plants that the greenhouse assured me would have time to produce some fruit. I also planted more basil, parsley, dill, sage, and a couple of interesting-looking pepper plants. I've never tried a fall garden, so am really looking forward to seeing how things grow. Now the next step is to get something in the corner of the yard that is also very barren. I've relocated our former patio table and chairs there, and soon will have some color to surround it. Let's just hope it won't be next year!
And then it sat.
And sat.
And sat.
The soil's organic matter decomposed, leaving the beds only half full. Grass began to peek around the edges of the 2x8x10 boards and tickled my feet when I walked on the pavestones placed in between the 2 large beds. My men began to fear that all of their hard work was for naught.
However, today I finally did something with them. 6 more bags of topsoil and 22 plants later, I have some green stuff sprouting from them! Because of the late date, I focused one bed on strictly ornamental flowering plants - annuals, since next spring that bed will be providing all sorts of yummy veggies. The other bed had 4 tomato plants that the greenhouse assured me would have time to produce some fruit. I also planted more basil, parsley, dill, sage, and a couple of interesting-looking pepper plants. I've never tried a fall garden, so am really looking forward to seeing how things grow. Now the next step is to get something in the corner of the yard that is also very barren. I've relocated our former patio table and chairs there, and soon will have some color to surround it. Let's just hope it won't be next year!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
I feel LUCKY!!!
No, not the type of Dirty Harry "Do you feel lucky, punk?" lucky...the kind of lucky that makes one buy a lottery ticket. Even if the winning numbers are on someone else's piece of paper, it was the kind of day that made me realize what joy is out there in the world.
3 Yatzees in a single game. A 45-minute commute to downtown Dallas during morning rush hour. A shopping trip without a single argument.
Yep. It just doesn't get any better than that. Gotta love days like this! Never mind what tomorrow has in store, either. I'm embracing this feeling and lovin' every minute of it!
3 Yatzees in a single game. A 45-minute commute to downtown Dallas during morning rush hour. A shopping trip without a single argument.
Yep. It just doesn't get any better than that. Gotta love days like this! Never mind what tomorrow has in store, either. I'm embracing this feeling and lovin' every minute of it!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Backpack, be gone!
I threw away my son's backpack today. It was a nice backpack at one point in time, ready to carry the trappings of higher learning that all 8th graders need, as well as special pockets for Mp3 players, cell phones, and water bottles. However, when it finally hit the bottom of the trash can with a resounding whimper, it bore no resemblance to anything that had been loved. The shoulder harnesses had been brutally ripped from the body, merely hanging on by the proverbial thread, holes had been unceremoniously cut/gouged from the sides, taking on the anger/boredom from the 14 year old owner. Creative designs from pens and Sharpies were the only indication that it had at one point been something other than a simple receptacle, something that was valued beyond its practical use.
However, as time went on and the lessons became tediously difficult, the bag took on a new role. It was weapon, harness, pillow, stepstool, lunchbox, and secret-storer. It took everything it had to survive that last year of middle school, much like it had taken everything my son had in him to get to that last bell.
It's done. He's done, and now they can both rest easy with the knowledge that middle school is a thing of the past. High school will bring new challenges, but the new attitude will be accompanied by a brand new backpack.
However, as time went on and the lessons became tediously difficult, the bag took on a new role. It was weapon, harness, pillow, stepstool, lunchbox, and secret-storer. It took everything it had to survive that last year of middle school, much like it had taken everything my son had in him to get to that last bell.
It's done. He's done, and now they can both rest easy with the knowledge that middle school is a thing of the past. High school will bring new challenges, but the new attitude will be accompanied by a brand new backpack.
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