The opposite of a badass

As Brene Brown uses the word, a badass is someone who stands fully in his or her own truth, who might fall down doing something that matters, but gets back up with fresh determination to return to the arena of action.  

Someone like Mom, circa 2000.  After a lifetime of turning a blind eye & deaf ear, she finally - by her own efforts & egging - came to stand in her own truth.  

Something happened on Sunday that got me wondering, what is the opposite of that definition of badass, what is its antonym?  According to the Urban Dictionary, that would be douchebag.   

Yesterday, I woke up after a night of fitful sleep, my dreams beset with fretful images of uncertainty, of feelings that were masked & coded.  It occurred to me they were rooted in my confusion over feelings about my older brother.  

It is easy to tell myself that my feelings are neutral, that I've come to a place where how he does or doesn't act can do no harm.  I can accept his actions in the present moment & be okay with that.  

Except that was NOT standing fully in my truth; it was bogus.  It felt true, but a voice inside me screamed, "That's so NOT your really feelings."  

I don't know my real feelings.  I doubt they'll ever be clear, there's so much stuff from such young years wrapped around & threaded through them. I've neither the time nor the energy to fret it out.  But when Peter spent my Valentine's Day phone call NOT basking in the joy of telling me about his first visit in over three years with his daughter & her family who've been on the other side of the world for all that time, but instead focused on himself, railing about not getting whatever sort of Christmas presents he felt were better than what he had... Well, it dawned on me - whatever my feelings may be, my opinion of Peter is clear:  he's a douchebag. 

Another Urban Dictionary (UD) antonym for badass is poser.  Which, for who knows what reason, my oldest brother most certainly is.  And it would seem totally without cause.  Peter was born with wonderful gifts & preppy looks in a time they really mattered, opportunities & support that his little sister envied, the love & devotion of parents who always seemed to stand by him.

Per the UD, a poser is someone who tries to be something he isn't.  I could never figure out just what Peter wanted, but even as a little kid it was clearly not what he had.  That can be a great spur to action & success, but it didn't play out that way with Peter.  I never knew what he wanted, what sidetracked him from the accomplished life he seemed destined to have.  But Mom could, although that didn't become clear until after she died.

Mom loved Rosamunde Pilcher.  A copy of September was in Mom's library, one of the many books I sorted through after Mom died.  Most went to the library for the book sale, some were kept as special treasures, others because they were written in.  September had page numbers noted on the very first page.  Had I been a Rosamunde Pilcher fan when Mom was alive, had read September, it would have clear just how well she knew her first born.

Page 355 (talking of a man's mother):
Noel ~ From time to time, we had the most stupendous rows.  Usually about money.
Violet ~ That's what most family rows are about.  And I don't imagine that she (his mother, artist Penelope Keeling) suffered from materialism.
Noel ~ The very opposite. She had her own philosophy for living, and a selection of homespun truisms which she would come out with in times of stress, or in the middle of some really important acrimonious argument.  One of them was that happiness is making the most of what you have & riches in making the most of what you've got.  It sounded plausible, but I never quite worked out the logic.
Violet ~ Perhaps you needed more than words.

Noel ~ Yes, I needed more.  I needed not to feel an outsider.  I wanted to be part of a different sort of life, to have a different background.  The Establishment.  Old houses, old families, old manners, old money.  We were brought up to believe that money didn't matter, but I knew that it only didn't matter provided you had plenty of it.


Mom got that Peter was a poser, and I think she felt guilty, felt that she was somehow responsible for his longing to have not merely money & success, which he could have earned, but to have a whole different history, which he could only fabricate.  

One of the most AH HA! moments of my family life happened in 2000, when Pam & Peter announced Whitney's engagement.  Mom found out about it after it happened.  When it dawned on her that it was possible her beloved granddaughter was engaged & no one had told her, let alone invited her to the announcement party, she called to ask Peter, believing in her heart of hearts it could not be so.  

Peter's response was illuminating, to Mom as well as myself.  He was furious at her, yelling so loudly that I could hear him, although by the bedroom door.  A guest, sitting down in the living room, could hear the racket.  "How dare you be so presumptuous as to think you would be invited to the party!  I bet that Elsa (me) put you up to this.  Well, you can tell her that Mim & me & the f---ing world are sick & her tired of her trying to control us."

Mom, in a sterling moment of rising strong, didn't flinch or turn pale or shrink into herself.  Instead, she looked straight at me, held the phone away from her ear, did a talking gesture with her left hand, as she said, "I'm sorry you feel that way Peter.  We'll talk later." & hung up.

Whitney explained it was Pam's fault, because she'd made up the guest list.  Peter said the same.  Only my nephew, Reynolds, had the guts to stand in & speak the truth, "Dad would not have been comfortable if Gocky had been there."  Which was spot on.

It seems reasonable that Peter, who presented himself as something he wasn't, couldn't bear to have people around who knew him as anything other than what he cared to show.  

Writing about it still tears me up, because my brother could have been so much, blessed with a combination of solid intelligence, savvy social skills, an upbringing that transcended his family's humble finances, looks that immediately gave him entry into well-born & bred Philadelphia society.  While he could have found a welcomed place among them, he could never BE them, which seemed his true heart's desire.  

How can I know my feelings toward my oldest brother when they are so wrapped around my sense of heartbreak over the messed-up life for which he set himself up?  Will content myself with the sorry realization that he's a douchebag.  It's accurate, it's easier, it's infinitely less heartbreaking.

Credits:
strippedchic.com (quote from Jen Sincero)
urbandictionary.com
sportscards4all.com
candytaveras.wordpress.com

"You called your mother a BADASS?!"

There are people who look at me in horror when I describe Mom as evolving, in her final years, into an utter badass.  "How can you think of your dear, sweet mother that way!"   

And I immediately know they've never read Brene Brown's description, or else they'd know that Katharine Reynolds Lockhart was a total badass.

How can a term that sounds so raw describe a sweet little old lady in her late 80s, early 90s, who was famed far & wide for her kindness, generousity & caring?  I leave it to Brene:
Badassery - when people stand fully in their truth, or when someone falls down, gets back up and says, "Damn, That really hurt, but this is important to me and I'm going in again' - that's a badass. (from The Stiletto Dialogue)

Oh, yeah - Mom was the total badass, from Day 1.  Stuff happened along the way that made her deny deny deny, but it was always in there, waiting for her extreme later years to fully emerge. 

My favorite description of a badass is found in the Urban Dictionary, submitted by runawaytrain...

Unspoken Rules of Being Badass
1. First rule of being a badass. A badass does not talk about being a badass. Period.

2. Second rule of being a badass, a badass does not try to be a badass or look tough. A badass simply is a badass.

3. A badass stays true to themselves, always. This means being themselves for themselves, and not being fake to impress others.

4. A badass does not give up. Badasses will always push themselves for the better, no matter how hard it gets.

5. A badass is not a jerk. A badass does not prey on the weak, and shows kindness in return to those who are kind.

6. A badass knows his/her limits. Don't be stupid, you're not Superman, you'll die if you jump off a building.

7. A badass does not make enemies or go looking for fights. They do not fights that aren't worth fighting either. 

 

Mom was a total badass when Mim & I asked her to come down with us to an Apollo moon launch & she insisted that she would only go if she could pay her own way, if it didn't require a penny of Dad's money - which seemed whacked-out to the rest of us, since she brought in zip income.  

She was a total BA on her seven trips to Australia between the ages of 65 & 85.

Total BA when she dressed in an evening gown to go out after midnight with Mim et moi to a diner for pie & coffee.  (In bed in her room, she heard us making plans for the foodie foray, wanted to go without the bother on pulling on a girdle & hitching  up stockings).

Portrait of a BA as we trekked to & from DisneyWorld via coastal & mountain routes, when she was a lass of 87.

Countless times of badassery, with her BA high point being when - at 88 - she picked up the phone to call a psychologist to say, "I haven't a clue about who I am.  I need your help finding out." 

For many years, Mom joked that she wanted her tombstone to read, "She tried."  No way - should read "Katharine Reynolds Lockhart - beloved wife, devoted mother, adored sister, treasured friend & total BADASS." 

 

The adventure continues

Not as in "and now the adventure continues" or "once again, the adventure continues" - no how, no way.  As in "it's ALL an adventure, from first whatever to last."  

I say "whatever," because who knows when the jostling & joy begins - my guess is from the moment of conception, because what could be a more awesome part of our forever adventure than all that happens getting to, staying in, and moving out of the womb?"  Seriously - what a WILD beginning to all that follows!

Have taken the plunge writing a book ~ Badass Grandma ~  inspired by & about my mother, Katharine Reynolds Lockhart.  Tackling the first bit had me struggling to describe just what I mean by badass & why, in my mind & heart, Mom epitomized one.  

First heard the term used as praise by Brene Brown in Rising Strong.  That made me notice Jen Sincero's You Are A Badass, which took me deeper into appreciating how Mom nailed it.  Especially at the end, but with glimmers & outbursts throughout her life - the little girl who rescued a peach sapling that was headed for the trash bin, in spite of adults insisting, "Kay, it will die" - was a total badass.  

Am not meandering away from my topic as woefully as you might think.  Writing the opening, went back to a 12/29/15 posting on my Dream Reweaver blog, about my first response to Jen's book (subtitled How To Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life), which lead me to a quote from her that totally shouts YES! to me, right here & right now:

We are so unbelievably blessed 

to have all the things we have, 

all the opportunities and ideas 

and people and tasks and interests 

and experiences and responsibilities.

Amen, sister!

 

I was talking with my oldest brother on Valentine's Day.  He'd had a visit earlier from his daughter & her family - beloveds who'd lived in Australia for the past 3+ years & he hadn't seen or regularly Skyped over all that time.  He should have still been on a legal high, having just seen his adored daughter, her terrific husband, her daughters.  Instead, he sounded disheartened, busily kicking himself for not getting them different Christmas presents than he had so carefully purchased.  

Knowing my properly raised niece, I doubt she showed any displeasure with the gifts; knowing her apples don't fall far from the maternal tree, am sure the girls didn't either.  But there was Peter, focused on what he felt he did wrong instead of babbling about the joy of seeing them all.  

According to the online Urban Dictionary, the opposite of badass is douchebag.  Sad, but true - that fits how I felt about my brother, hearing him beat himself up instead of radiating rainbows of happiness.  

Was shaken with momentary sadness. the sense he's missing the adventure, which brought home to me - hard fast true - what a waste it is for us to waste so much of a single moment in regret.  Fra Giovanni totally aced it, writing, "The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take Joy!"  

By nature & personal nurture, I am a bright & sunny soul.  No matter how bleak things might get, I know that low moments happen for a higher cause, that every moment - no matter how glorious or gory it might feel - invariably leads us to a deeper connection to our own soul, to a stronger connection with the Divine.  

Am forever grateful to my older siblings for all  the sadness & even darkness they've shown that I might have never vicariously experienced.  

 

Ian's death at 11 drove home that life's fragile, that it can never be taken for granted - a boy went out to play & never come home.  Am grateful Ian died adventuring, being with a friend, basking in the fun of making his beloved model airplanes.

My sister couldn't see life as an adventure - as described by a super close friend after her memorial tribute, Mim was terrified of everything.  When everything about it terrifies you, there's no opening up to life as adventure.  

And Peter - he got a call from his baby sister on the very day he'd finally seen his adored daughter & her family and all he could talk about was how it felt like he'd messed up on presents.  Peter - YOU were their best present!  No sense of adventure.

But there's still time for my brother to shake himself out of deficiency thinking & embrace the adventure.  It's in his bones.  His mother was a badass, his father most certainly was (he had to be to start his own business & succeed).  His brother, Mike, is a Down Under badass.  And I like to think his baby sister is following in our Mom's footsteps!  

The adventure continues, am moving with it.  Found myself a guide, setting my current itinerary for the next destination, willing to learn how to better stock provisions ~ trim my sails ~ navigate a true north course.  Then let go & let the adventure unfold, always remembering to take joy in my moments!

 

Credits:
openclipart.org 
valentineweek-2016.com
pngimg.com
thegratitudehouse.org

stylepinner.com
sarahherrin.com

demilked.com

Que sera sera

Whatever will be, will be.

Called Peter yesterday - had expected to take out a valentine & a giftie (he always loved Terry's Chocolate Orange) but the weather was too collllddddd.  Wanted to make sure he had our best wishes on The Day.

Which was how I learned that Chad & Whitney & the girls are now back in the USA, in the area.  They had been by earlier, visiting.  Don't have many details, other than Campbell now goes by her first name, Caroline.  

Peter got off the phone asap - we had interrupted a show he was watching.

 

Now that Whitney is here, he'll have someone to call.  I am glad we could be there when Mim died & he didn't have anyone to ring up.  Being there when needed is more than what I'm good at - it's what I love.  Looking forward to getting his call-back & finding out more their return from three years in Melbourne, AU!

Our V-day card shows a palmistry reader's hand.  Inside, we wrote, "We see great things ahead for you."  Whether we're in the picture or not, those words say it all!

Credits:
electronics.howstuffworks.com
thejelliedbelly.wordpress.com
palmistry.com.au

 

Child of the sixties

originally posted at Dream Reweaver...

Oh, the joy of being older!  Over the past few years - starting sometime after 60 - can see things that were once super sensitive with interest, often bemusement, rather than spirit-twisting mega emotional investment.

Will be forever grateful for my family, my community.  One of the many things learned by my experiences with both is that being different doesn't equal being wrong.  And that family & community are what WE define them as being, rather than anything set in stone.  

Growing up, being so different from what felt like the norm could be daunting.  The community structure seemed structured, clannish & cliquish - neither my nature nor my nurtured.  And my family might as well have come from a different planet, the differences were so profound.  

As I grow deeper into my sixties - turned 64 a few days ago - am increasingly aware of the advantages, on all sides, to those differences.  It's not that my family & community have become more in sync with me, as that I've gotten more open to letting my image of both be open, become less "sure" that how I've viewed them through the ages has the slightest semblance to reality.  

 

Over the past years, have become more willing to let go of comforting but confining labels & reassuring (even if totally off base) expectations.  I know the way my family, my community once came across to me, but that doesn't mean it's still that way.  Youch confession - it doesn't mean it was EVER that way.  

There are great things in store for crafting astonishing connections to & within my community, my family. Can't happen - not a bit of it - if I hold onto old images.  

Christ warned about storing new wine into old casks, or skins.  My limited & limiting concepts of community & family are OLD; what calls to be done is NEW.  If I try bringing fresh ideas to old images of family & community, it's going to be a bust.  

It's hard to describe, the way it feels to let things be, rather than making them into something that makes sense to ME.  As a child of the '60s, I never hooked onto that psychedelic reality. As a child of the sixties, it's all come together.  Lovin' getting older!

 

Credits:
mwp4.me 
codepoetics.com
youtube.com

Pondering paradox

Am rereading Martha Beck's life-upending Finding Your Way in a Wild New World, loving it even more than my first time, over a year ago.  

Just finished up the chapter on Wordlessness.  Martha believes that tapping into Wordlessness (accessing the intelligence of our nonverbal mind) is "like logging on to some sort of Energy Internet, a connection that gives access not only to (our) own entire intelligence but to something much bigger," the collective unconscious, what Jung described as consisting of pre-existing forms, archetypes.  Or, as Martha likes to describe it, using a term translated from Australian Aborigonal tribes, the EVERYWHEN.

 

Would the concept of Wordlessness, of the Everywhen, have hit so deeply in my younger years, or am I more open to it because of being being at the deep end of middle age?  What I know for sure is that the first time I read Martha's book, my entire body responded with a resounding YES!

Loving all over again how she regards truth.  I grew up in a faith that taught the importance of a written revelation, while using as source material teachings that shouted to the rooftops the power of the unspoken, the importance of the experienced, the impotence of words to express felt sensed known reality.  If that's not a strange paradox, I sure don't know what is! 

We're told "the truth can set us free," but words don't constitute truth.  Words are rigid; truth flows.  Martha points out that Western minds see TRUTH as a mental or verbal story, a construct of facts laid out end to end.  An explanation of truth, but NOT truth itself.  

Eastern thought is more open & understanding of words as tools for describing what's experienced as truth, not not THE truth.  No one confuses a map of Manhattan for walking through the actual Big Apple.

"Truth is something you live, you think."  TALKING about truth - or anything - can become a barrier to seeing experiencing understanding what IT actually is. They can lead us to believe we know something really & truly when reality is that we only know it verbally.  As Martha says in illustration, we can read about honey, we can even write extensively about it, but that is not the same as tasting it.  

I found the final part of the chapter, on paradox, almost supernaturally gripping.  

Paradox is helpful in becoming open to Wordlessness.  Even before Martha brought it up, found myself thinking about the koans used by Buddhist masters, that twist the mind inside out, making it more receptive to the sort of nonverbal experiencing.  

Which got me into flipping a lifelong sadness into a potential paradox.

For what feels like forever, my one & only, considerably older sister made a point of letting me know my UNness in her eyes, which naturally led me to (verbally) thinking that she disliked, even despised me.  Yet, even from my youngest years, in the back of my mind there was always an unspoken yet present,  "But maybe not..."

What if Mim DID like me, even love me?  What if instead of feeling she wanted to emotionally abuse me, she felt a deep sense of protectiveness toward me?  

Imagine the fear, the utter terror that could be inspired in a deeply protective heart by the personal knowledge that even the best parents in the world aren't always able to protect they young from unspeakable horrors, so that subsequent actions could come out screwed around.  

It could explain why, in our family's weirdly perverse way, how she might have treated me as she did, IF she knew from her own experience the damage that can be done to an innocent child, beyond a parent's knowledge or help.  Better that SHE be the one to inflict abuse rather than leave me vulnerable to whatever it was she seemed to have suffered from more brutal hands.  

That is every bit as plausible a story as the ones I've come up with over the years.  A paradox, it's true, but one that could make sense to a damaged mind heart spirit.  

Credits:
azquotes.com
uws.edu.au
cheesyengineer.wordpress.com
hub.salford.ac.uk