balancing act

It's so easy to say, "I'm not having contact with this person because s/he is toxic to my life."  But then I remember - good homeopath that I once was - that a bit of what can be toxic can actually be healing, when properly compounded with other ingredients.  

There are people who hold me at arm's length because they experience me as toxic.  That makes me sad, but it is their choice.  There are others who seek contact, but apparently only to meet their needs, not because they seem to simply seek connection.  That's a challenge.

For me, there are people with whom I'm constantly refining a personal balancing act of contact, but not so much it feels poisonous.  They are worth it.  Wish that was possible with everyone who matters in my life, but will be grateful for the ones I have.

And mega mega mega grateful that Mim & I were able, over the last few years, to partner up & create a relationship that hopefully worked as well for her as it did for me.  Interesting, realizing things like actually getting together didn't work for us, ditto even talking on the phone, but mail was a godsend.  Will always miss John coming in the door, all smiles, waving an envelope & saying, "You've got a letter from Mim!"

Between the two of us, Mim & I found a place that felt okay.  Holding this in my heart as a benchmark in balancing.  

May I find ways to duplicate - in different ways - additional relationships with folks who matter; whose presence, however distant or slight, helps make for a full, wholehearted life.

Power of stories

Interesting - wrote the title of this blog posting on 07/30/15, filed it as a draft.  That was all there was - the title.  And I have no idea WHY.  Didn't start writing daily Mim memories until 08/13 - two weeks away.  But opening up Secrets of the Home this morning, there it was - waiting for me.

Because that very easily could have been the title I came up with right now, although my thoughts were more around integration.  But it really is about the power of stories, although it hadn't occurred to me.

It's been a wild & woolly week.  A dear grannie client fainted last Wednesday & my days have been set on their ear by lending a hand when needed.  She seems fine now, but the days between seemed long & wide.  Instead of just swinging by for breakfast, now I arrive by 7:30 a.m. to help her get ready for the day.

Yesterday was my first early arrival.  Her daughter had called early early to fill me in with a late night/early morning visit to the ER because of back pain.  All seemed fine, she'd been given Motrin & that was about it.  Oh, and the oldest son's wife would probably still be there - she stayed overnight with her m-i-l as her s-i-l had earlier.  

And she was.  And once again, it came home to me how crazy generous the Universe is with me (profuse thanks!).  If it weren't for coming by to help out, would never have enjoyed the short conversation between us.  She spotted my copy of Brene Brown's Rising Strong, mentioned she was reading it, too.  She hadn't gotten far into it, but already felt that it was written for her.  

I'd barely gotten out of the introduction, so didn't have much of a detailed impression.  Hearing her description gave me pause - already it held a strong draw on my heart, the AH HA portion of my mind.  

My gosh, just the graphic that takes up the entire back cover was enough to send me shouting from rooftops!

 

Fast forward to 9:30 p.m. - my dear older friend was ready for her slumbers, John & I heading out to our own hearth & home.  Outside, as he walked off to get the car & I settled in on a bench to wait, I called out after him, "It's strange, but it DOES feel like Brene wrote this book for me."  It's one of those moments that happen to me - years from now, will remember the sense of the darkness, the cool of the bench as I sat down, the decision to share right my thoughts.  

The inside book jacket describes its heart - the importance & power of emotion & our willingness to lean into its discomfort.  Stories are key.  "When we deny our stories, they define us.  When we own our stories, we get to write the ending."

Those two sentences - yes,yes & YES!

Going back to the statement on the back cover, remembering the title waiting for me this morning, rereading "our wholeness - even our wholeheartedness - actually depends on the integration of all our experiences, including the falls.

Wow....  Goosebump time.

Just two days ago, wrote a posting about that very thing.  I hadn't - scout's honor - read more than a couple pages of Brene's book.  But maybe the graphic on the back had registered & been subliminally working its magic.  

Because our wholeness so clearly depends on knitting our experiences into a "constantly expanding integrated whole."  Honest, I'd barely cracked open the book, but it sounds - even to me - like that could be right out of its pages.  

By page xviii of the intro, read yesterday morning as my friend slumbered in the next room, had already seen the "Oh,yeah!" of the book seemingly written for ME.  Her embracing of vulnerability as a necessary part of living has me smiling.  

When I fell in love with John, one of the two warnings I gave him about me was that I had shied away from real love because of a fearing vulnerability.  That was 26 years ago.  Ten years ago, teaching biology to an intriguing group of socially at-risk high school students (9th-12th graders in each class), realized that vulnerability is to be celebrated, not feared.  A cell needs to be vulnerable in order to let things in & out.  What a wake up call!  I'd been fearing the very thing needed most.  The ability to let things in & out - that just kept resonating.  

Still does.  Still get deep chills that the Universe had me teaching science, a course for which I had a rough-edged interest but NO experience, in a creative way to a group of non-standard students that brought out unexpected angles & even whacky approaches, stirring the imagination even more than the intellect. There are no accidents. 

As Brene writes, "Hiding out, pretending, and armoring up against vulnerability are killing us;  killing our spirits, our hopes, our potential, our creativity, our ability to lead, our love, our faith & our joy...  Being brave requires us to be vulnerable."  YES!  As she points out, we need to lean into our vulnerability & uncertainty.

We can't get anywhere in tact without embracing our stories, without integrating them into the circuitry of our lives.  Okay, here comes the spooky wonderful part - how did I know that from forever?  Wasn't taught it, didn't see it modeled anywhere around me.  Yet it's something that's been part of my deepest being for all of my life.  It, along with a deeply buried but always there sense of basic self-worth, is part of my spiritual dna.  Praise be!  

When Brene's book first caught my eye, the story aspect called out to me.  Had no idea it's just as connected to the power & importance of emotions.  

When I started reading this book, it caught my full attention.  As I worked through it - am up to page 64 - realized that it does seem to be speaking to me.  But writing this - having opened up my blog to find a title waiting for me, written weeks before getting the book - am realizing an even deeper feeling is stirred reading my way through. It feels like I am coming home to me.