Stardust n' stuff

I recently read a quote… on facebook… so what if it was on facebook?  I read important things too!…  ANYWAY it was this:

Okay… go ahead and blow my mind, Mr. Twain.

Some things hit you and I’ve come to realize when something resonates right through me that it’s with good reason.  So now I find myself a tad bit obsessed with this idea.  And I'm curious...

Why were you born?  What is your unique purpose?  What makes you you and what is all this beautiful, amazing YOUNESS meant to do while you're here?

Let's pretend you're here right now, sitting across from me on a...bean bag chair... because I like my friends to be comfy while engaging in serious conversation.

So here we are, all relaxed and chillin' like we do, glowing in each other's presence when I hit you with the question:

Why were you born?

You pause, mid-glow, and shift a bit atop all those beans.  Your mouth opens slightly, draws breath.  The words, the truth, your truth, is building.  You're gathering it to you, grabbing hold, molding it, looking for a way to form it into human words that will express what is resonating deep down at your core.  I anxiously await.  I just love truth.

I feel like there are three potential answers to this very big question and I'm wondering which is yours.

1- You could quote Kilgore Trout:  "All persons, living and dead, are purely coincidental."  Hmmm… very well… I can neither prove, nor disprove, your theory because the knowledge that we are divinely designed simply can't be manufactured.  It comes from within.  Call it faith, call it the Universe, call it delusion - I like to think of it as a gut or connectedness.  Gut tells us what to believe and what to dismiss.  It helps to instruct our choices, fuels our actions, pulls us in one direction instead of another and manifests truth or falsehood to our souls as we encounter the many philosophies of life.  Gut is all we've really got to go on and mine says that we (you, I, everyone) are no happy accident.  We are made of stardust and born with a purpose.  I believe we are who we are and where we are for a reason.  I haven't always believed this.  I didn’t believe it even 5 years ago, but, I’ve learned a lot since then.  So if you don't feel this, I deeply understand.  I love you for being skeptical and logical and distrustful and strong.  A little yoga here, but the light in me honors the light in you and I hope that you find joy and meaning, no matter your path.  I would love to hear more.  Teach me.

2-You might choose to plainly answer this big question with, "To be tested, grow and progress, and eventually go back to God or become part of the universe or be reincarnated or whatnot."  And I'm with you there too. I am.  That's it in a nutshell, isn't it?  But then I wonder...why is my test different from yours?  Why is my path different from yours? What happens if I don't progress as much as someone else?  And why do we all seem to be at different stages in spiritual progression to begin with?  Why would we be made so very uniquely and placed here in such unequal circumstances?  Are there specific things that I, me only, am supposed to learn and if so, why?

Aaaand now your head hurts.  I've dragged you down the rabbit hole without permission.  You're curled up tight on your bean bag chair - furrowed brows, crossed arms, not looking the slightest bit comfortable.  I apologize.  And yet... I'd just love to hear your thoughts on these questions.  

3 - You stay silent for a long time before speaking.  When you do, a million lovely words pour forth - words full of passion and purpose - words that describe a road unlike any other.  Maybe you know where it leads, maybe you're unsure, but it belongs to you and only you and you're bravely striking out on it.  Sometimes you're even cutting the path - clearing debris laid by others, cleaning up self-made messes, leaving markers as reminders of where you've been and how far you've come.  Some areas slope upward - a trail of drawn blood and spilled tears speckling the way to the summit.  Some areas slope down - an easy route at first but may prove difficult to abandon if your speed gets out of control.  Along its cracks and bends you've found love, loss, growth, pain, healing and so much more.  You've found you.

No matter what your path looks like, it is supremely unique and belongs only to you.  And it has a purpose. 

 

Why were you born?  Why were you given your talents, your challenges, your stories, your path?  What are you meant to be and to do while you're here?

We sit in our bean bags and ponder in silence.  These big questions have big answers that dare us to dream big, fall short, be courageous, vulnerable, and strong.  They demand that we make the most of our days and help others do the same.  They thrust us forward into uncharted territory.  They change and challenge us.  They are that which we are meant for.

I know so little, so very, very little, but I know one thing for sure.  I was meant to ponder this. 

Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind

There I was. 

Innocently arriving at my former mother in law’s home to pick up my bundle of Finn.

No way of knowing what was about to transpire.

No way at all.

Yes this buildup is intentionally annoying.

I’m used to doing the "knock-twice-and-enter-the-premises" routine at her home.  There are two kind, sweet, salt of the earth women living there and both of them are deaf as posts (whatever that means).  And trusting.  They don’t lock the door.  Ever.  Rather than ringing the doorbell and hoping to be heard above the din of the television turned up to inconceivable volumes, I’ve become bold enough to just enter.  Social niceties be damned.  

This day no one was home.  No one except my niece (or former niece, I suppose).  She’s 17. She hasn’t had an easy life and the last few years have been exceptionally difficult for her.  I won’t go into specifics, but I’ve been filled in on the goings on in her life and I know she’s always been a sensitive girl.  She feels things very deeply, so I was never shocked to hear that she wasn’t feeling like she could cope anymore and was giving up on certain things, like school.  I tend to gravitate toward people who are sensitive or deeply empathetic.  I always liked her, but I haven’t really been in her life for the last 5 years, beyond the occasional small talk (of which I’m NOT a fan).  

Let’s move on to this day.  I bust through the door, as I’ve become accustomed to doing, and there she is… sitting on the couch… she jumps a little, startled and scared at the incoming intruder.

 

“Ahhh, hello there.  Sorry, if I scared you.  They never hear me ring the doorbell…” 

She laughs.  “Oh, that’s okay.  Grandma took him with her to get her prescription.  They should be back in a minute.”

“Okay.  Not a problem.”  I sit down on the couch as well and awkward silence commences.

I happened to notice what she was wearing.  Oversized, flannel Star Wars pajama pants and a hoodie more suitable for a woman near the end of her pregnancy.  I’m familiar with the outfit.  It’s the “I have to be out in the world, but I really just want to cocoon myself and be as invisible as possible” look.

I don’t know why.  Why on earth I decided that today was the day I was going to breach a conversation with her, but I can say that I felt it was important for me to try.  If she seemed completely shut down I wasn’t going to push it, but I just thought I should try.  I know the feeling when everyone seems to want to give you space to feel miserable, but that often just increases and exacerbates the miserable feelings by having it seem like no one actually cares that you're feeling miserable. 

“Sooo, what’s new?  Things okay?” It seemed innocent enough. 

At first she lightly laughed off the question and said she was okay.  But it seemed like she was also willing to open up with just a little eye contact and a willing ear.  I told her I was there.  She could talk to me if she would like to.  The gist of what eventually came out was that she didn’t know why.  Why must life be so hard?  And why was it that right when you just about pick yourself up off the ground and brush yourself off, you’re knocked on your ass again?!

Gulp.  

Well, yeah.  Good question.

I've formed a little theory in the last few years, related to a film we all know and felt it may be appropriate-ish here to lighten the mood, but still make a point.  So, I asked if she was a fan of Star Wars or if she just thought the pants were comfy.

Eyebrows raise, wondering why she just confided to a person asking about her pants after opening up the fact that she was not happy.  But she politely answered, “Yeah, I'm a nerd.  I love it.”

“Okay, good!  Then you’re familiar with The Empire Strikes Back?”

“Yeahhh, but that one’s not as good as the others.”

  

I noticed at one point, and it remains true to this day, that whenever I’ve asked someone what their favorite Star Wars movie is they invariably answer A New Hope or Return of the Jedi.  So, her answer came as no surprise and is typical of many trilogies.  The beginning is full of new people, new places, plots, excitement, hustle, bustle and all sorts of hijinks.  The ending, obviously, brings resolution to six-plus hours of epic struggle, villains are vanquished, heroes are heralded, cue triumphant music, celebratory merriment and the gratuitous slapping of backs.  

OF COURSE PEOPLE LIKE IT.

I’ll admit I wasn’t always a Star Wars fan.  Growing up, I didn’t fully appreciate or understand what was being accomplished with those movies.  It wasn’t until Finn became fascinated with the movies around 2 years old to the present time that I went from a cringing, begrudging viewing to one of admiration, respect and understanding.  

  

But the true genius and vital key to the success of the entire Star Wars industry, in fact, lies very humbly hidden in the middle.  The real reason we love Luke and Leia, Han and Chewy, Obi Wan, Yoda, Boba Fett, and even Jabba, is the all-so-important yet wildly under-appreciated

Empire Strikes Back.  Because it is there, in the in-between-ness, that the magic happens.  In the mist and muck of Dagobah, on the disturbingly rickety catwalks of a Cloud City air shaft, and hanging out in the middle of nowhere with a bleeding arm stump, THERE is where Luke endures the soul-stretching trials that will transform him from whiney teenager to Jedi. Je-di.  Freaking Jedi. 

  All those heart-warming triumphs in Return Of The Jedi  would be impossible without The Empire Strikes Back. Could Luke have resisted the temptation of the dark side without first facing his worst fears in that freakish cave Yoda sent him into?  Hell no.  Would he have had the courage to march into Jabba's palace and make all those ballsy threats if he hadn't fought Vader, lost, flung himself down that airshaft and lived to tell about it?  Again--hell no!  Would Luke possess the compassion to save his father, the worst guy in the known universe (who blew up entire planets just to watch Leia break a sweat), if he hadn't gone through the character building process of accepting who he truly was and contemplating the profound power of the force?  Hellllllll no!

 Watch A New Hope and try to say that Luke simply woke up one morning and was like "I think I'll stop throwing tantrums about power converters and save the galaxy, as well as my evil father's soul, cuzzzz I'm feeling quite a bit more noble than I was yesterday."  Nope.  That's not how it works.  Luke had to endure blood, sweat, and tears, have a hand chopped off, cling to an antenna for dear life and carry a muppet around on his back while stomping through swamps and levitating shit.   He had to come to terms with the fact that he'd kissed his sister and his dad was trying to kill him.  He had to slog through all of that and a whole lot more before he got his due.  The resolution, the joyous, badass, high-fiving resolution to it all came only because he slogged first.  It is the slogging that made the finish line both possible and a true triumph.  It's the gut-wrenching awful middle that made the ending so damn good!

"And so," I say to the sweet girl next to me "you are in the middle.  The slogging.  The hard work.  The cave. The trials. The character building.  The muppet on your back.  The soul-searching.  You’re in The Empire Strikes Back right now."

"You’re Luke!  And you've got all this amazingness inside you just dying to come forth.  You know it and I know it.  It’s just not going to start oozing from your pores while you binge watch TV in your pajamas.   Or consume massive amounts of ice cream.  You have to go through your own Empire Strikes Back first.  Blood, sweat, tears.  You have to lose your hand—your freaking hand!—and maybe even your mind for a bit.  You have to suffer."

"Your Return of The Jedi is on it's way, no doubt about it.” 

"You are Luke…buuut you're in Empire Strikes Back, and nobody likes the middle as much as they like the beginning or the ending.  That's human nature.  But the middle is what brings about the really good stuff so you need to hang in.  Fight.  Dig deep.  You know...use the force."

Thus ended my strange talk with her.  This is why I love the Star Wars movies.  They’re so oddly relatable.  And I wish I could sit at Yoda’s feet and learn from him.  Alas… I cannot, but at least I have learned a lesson from these movies.  And I guess I offer the lesson freely:   

The. Empire. Strikes. Back.  Most of us are Luke in one of the movies.  We long to be in Return of the Jedi.  Don't write yourself off yet.  You are Jedi.  Hang in.

Thursday Afternoon

Let's take a minute to recall the debate/conversation between a fellow government employee and I.  I'll call him Spanky, juuust, ya know, for the fun...  The good ol' IRS was kind enough to extend to it's Ogden employees one hour of leave last Thursday for Labor Recognition Day.  The idea is to encourage support for local commerce as vendors set up in a local park to showcase their business.  This seemingly innocent conversation quickly went into something more deep for me.  I also need to explain that Dearest Spanky can be quite the snarky asshole.  This is fine... he definitely entertains me at times, but if I seem a little harsh with him... he absolutely needs to get checked every now and then.  I think a lot of people are intimidated by him because of his position and his intelligence, so he's used to not being questioned or challenged too often.  

But.that's.what.I.do.

Spanky: What time are you going to the labor thing? 

Me: 2:30.  I don't want to come back after, so I'm just leaving here an hour early.

Spanky: I don't think I'm going.  Denise said it's just a bunch of vendors and I don't have any cash with me anyway.

Me: You realize that they're just giving us this hour.  It's like a little gift-wrapped package for you to take.  You're not obligated to buy anything.

Spanky: So, am I supposed to just show up there and walk around and think about how these poor saps will be out of business in a couple of years?

Me: ... says the bitterest man in the room...

Spanky: Seriously.  I don't need oils: Doterra, essential, or snake.

----------------------pause before continuing just to let it be known that this was a very direct  personal jab toward me--------------------------

Me: Good to know.

Spanky: Why go there and pay 80% more than I could elsewhere anyway?  Why support people who are ultimately going to fail?  Just so I can sneer at them?

Me: I know, right?!  Why didn't they just deaden that part inside of them that had dreams and passion and get a job at the IRS like us?

Spanky: Meh, at least I don't have to lie to people for a living.

-------didn't reply------

Spanky: "Here's this transformational product that will change your life!"

-------still him----------

Spanky: I never was any good at sales. 

Me: Yeah, to be honest, you do sound a little bitter.  I'd rather support these small businesses and people who aren't playing it safe, but are providing goods or services they probably really care about.  Good for them for following their passions.  That's what I encourage my son to do and I hope he will.

----------this is where he started to take things very personally and, although he didn't admit to it, I think it's clear that he feels unsatisfied with his own ability to follow his dreams-----------------------

Spanky: Okay, great, so just tell him it's okay for him to let his family starve while he goes out and tries to be a comedian, but guess what?  He's not funny and he sucks at stand-up, but at least he's following his passion.  I always wanted to be a comedian, but what was I supposed to do... just watch my family go hungry?

Me: I would rather see him focus on finding himself and figuring out what he wants to do and how he's going to go about it before he has the complication of worrying about providing for others.  And if you want to be a comedian, but aren't good at stand-up, then find another way to engage in the comedy world that may be a better fit.  I know there's a price to pay when you give up that part of yourself and it's much harder to get it back later in life than it is when you're young...  Regret is a bitch.  

Spanky: Why are we throwing stones at each other's glass houses?

Me: Here's a quote from Roosevelt I like.  I love Brene Brown and her books on courage and vulnerability.  She has included this quote in each of her books.  

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; ... who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

Spanky: Okay, fine, I'll go give them all gold stars.

Me: I don't know any of the people who will be at this labor thing.  For all I know, they may hate their lives and what they do.  The "arena" in the quote can be any moment or circumstances in life where you find yourself in a challenging, difficult situation where you feel like you are at risk.  Risking failure, rejection, heartbreak, uncertainty...  I appreciate when people risk something and show up for the challenge.  When people are just trying... that's enough.  So, go or don't go, but don't tear them down for trying.  

---------And we never spoke again... THE END------------until next week when we debate organic farming.  Stay tuned. 

Magic

A Gift:

My son, Finn, was born with the Gift of Making Everything Magic.  Of using his huge imagination to create unlikely stories without hesitation.  From the time he was a baby, he could entertain himself with the most simple things like a piece of paper, or a rubber ball, or his own fingers because he would see them with eyes that turned them into interesting creatures or dream up what they could be used for.  This is what I love most about him, yet some days I worry.  I know too well the world can be a harsh place for those who see things not as they are, but as what they can become. 

I know, because I was born with this Gift too.   

........

Another Side of Me:  

As a young girl, I was an optimist.  I remember feeling happy almost all of the time.  I loved easily, sang and danced my way through my days.  I was surrounded by friends, lost myself inside of a book, laughed a lot, and lived in my imagination.  I believed the world was full of Good and Beauty, and I believed I was going to become someone amazing when I grew up.  

Little by little, I began to change.  Vividly traumatic moments, cruel words, lies, hypocrisy, anger, and volatile tempers taught me to bury this Gift, replacing it with Fear into my world. I tried to hold on and trust in the Good, but with each passing year, as the circumstances remained and continually broke pieces of my optimistic heart, this became more and more difficult.  

I became an anxious, insecure, and wary version of myself, but kept these things hidden.  I could no longer sing or dance in front of others on my own, I had to have the safety of a group.  I hated the spotlight being on me, I was too insecure to stand in it.  The friends I had I believed deserved better than me, so I worked to become someone who could make them laugh, so at least I could contribute something and distract them. 

My anxiety and low self-worth exhibited itself as not setting goals I felt I was not good enough to achieve.  I felt comfortable in allowing myself to sit in the path of least resistance when it came to academics, dating, jobs, and plans for college.  I no longer dreamed big dreams for myself.

I longed for affection, but was taught and grew to believe that anyone who showed me attention only did because they wanted something from me, and would take advantage of my easily trusting heart. So, I trained myself to stop searching for love built from respect, and allowed myself to fit this role, to be used for another's purposes. 

I formed an outer shell called “Prepare for the Worst.”  This became my protection from pain, contention, and the Dark parts of the world I had come to understand too closely.  This shell served as the way I separated from the Darkness and did not allow it to drown me.  If I was prepared for it, it could not hurt, or disappoint me.  This is what I told myself.

Then, I met someone. 

I met him during a time when I really needed to believe in something.  I was searching.  We were both searching.  For ourselves, for something real.  I was searching for some way to be who I had been born to be--who I had protected inside for so long with the Shells created to survive.  

It’s taken time and a lot of awakening circumstances, but eventually my “Prepare for the Worst” shell began to crack.  I've found that Light can not only survive Darkness, it can overcome, and shine through it.  

So, I have worked to find myself again.  Habits are hard to break though, and I have stumbled and fallen backwards in my climb.  But I have found my footing, and not stopped climbing.  

It has been tricky at times.  The shell that once protected me was no longer needed, but I knew there was no going back to my naive childhood.  I had to find a balance of a thicker skin while keeping a soft heart, of seeing through the broken pieces of others, while still being wise to not let their broken pieces take me down with them.  And lately I've been really working on a balance of using common sense and knowledge of the World and its Dark and Ugly, combined with an adult-sized Faith and optimism that regardless of any circumstances, I trust things will be okay.  

As a mother and individual, I am still working.  Right now I really want that optimism back, that Gift I pushed down and buried so long ago in order to protect it.  

I've been thinking about this, as I've been accepting changes in my life. I feel like, emotionally that protective shell is trying to return, out of fear.  New situations always add a piece of overwhelming for me.

Protect, protect, protect. 

Some form of protection is good, healthy, and necessary.  But I want to be my best self.  My best real, vulnerable self.  

I may never be the carefree child I used to be, but I still have that Gift--I still believe in the Magic.  I'm surrounded by it every day, when I'm out of my shell and looking for it, I always find it.

And so, I’m documenting the times I see the Magic.  Even on the hard or overwhelming days--especially on those.  I don't want the time that I have to go to waste in the land of fear, guilt, stressing, and insecurity.  I've given too many of my good years over to those anyway, they don't deserve any more.

I do believe life is beautiful. 

Here's to Finding the Magic.