MoxieLife

30 Day Poetry Challenge

For my 40th birthday I set out to do a 40/40 challenge and one of those things was to write a poem every Tuesday as suggested by my friend Lynn. Well, I flaked out, but I am not willing to give up totally.

So, I am embarking on a 30 Day Poetry Challenge. In the month of September I will read a poem and write a poem every day. They will probably be crap, not the ones I read, but the ones I write. That isn't the point. The point is to write, write write.

I would LOVE it if you would want to take this challenge with me. If you want to you can either post it on your poem on your blog and leave a link each day you do it on my blog or you can email me your poem and I'll post it on my blog goodwolve at gmail dot com.

This starts tomorrow, the first, but you can come play any time. Get ready for a whole lot of bad haiku folks!

Photo Credit: Flickr user SurrealMuse

Puritans Versus Bohemian

This weekend my husband and I were talking about the Puritan Work Ethic. I don't have it. Not how it is meant, anyway.

From Wikipedia: "It is based upon the notion that the Calvinist emphasis on the necessity for hard work as a component of a person's calling and worldly success and as a sign of personal salvation."

My husband has it, but it backfires. What happens is that if he isn't doing something productive he runs tapes in his head telling him that he isn't good enough. That he is a loser, and that stops him from doing anything. It is a terrible cycle of self hate and guilt.

Now, I was raised by wolves (not really, just self absorbed bohemians) who never told me to do anything, never set expectations, and had no goals for me. So, whatever little thing I do I am so proud of myself. Proud like, give me a gold sticker, proud.

Granted, I don't work in the same diligent, trudging, sense of obligation way that I see many people doing. I am in the world of, if it doesn't make me happy (see the self absorption rubbed off a little) I am not going to do it. I might do things that aren't fun or pleasant if I see the greater reward at the end. Such as, I will clean the kitchen because I love to have a clean kitchen. If I didn't care, I probably wouldn't do it. Goodness, that does seem self absorbed.

But on the whole, I am happier. I look to re-frame situations to find the benefit. I am always trying to find a creative fun way to play in my work and I genuinely see it all as one big game of life. A happy life. (Yes, I know we have talked about my Pollyanna ways before.)

But really, who is better off? Me who can see the world as one big present waiting for me to unwrap it or someone (my husband) who feels compelled, obligated, and guilted into being productive.

Hands down, me.

Sure we all have to do crappy stuff, but if you don't have the voice of your mother or father telling you that you aren't doing it well enough, fast enough, or enough enough you can find pleasure in the most mundane tasks. I don't HAVE to do anything. I do it because I WANT to. Everything from working to brushing my teeth.

I know I don't work in a factory or stand on the highway with a stop sign, but if I had/wanted to I would find a way to see the value in that for myself. No inner voice would be slapping me upside the head telling me I wasn't holding the sign the right way or worse that holding the sign wasn't a good enough job. I set my own rules and if I wanted to hold a sign then that is what I would do.

Now, I have been with my husband 20 years and this was the first time we really talked about this in this way and now I know why he often feels like shit. I wouldn't want my parents nagging me in my head telling me I wasn't good enough or doing enough.

Not only that, but they put on the extra burden that having fun is a waste of time. You won't go to heaven if you have fun. You should feel guilty if you are having fun. You should feel bad. No cards, no dancing, no fun.

What a mess.

I may have been raised by wolves, but I know how find joy in my life. Amen.

Photo: My daughter and I working at an event in our downtown.

Open Home Open Heart

Last Thursday night I did something that I have been nervous about for 6 years. I hosted our Laughing Ladies Book Club at my house. Now I wonder why I was so self conscious about it and hadn't done it in the past!

We rotate our book club from member to member each month and in the past 6 years we have gone to almost everyone elses home except a few of us. And these homes are stunning! We have three that were built by the owners and reflect the taste and care of handcrafted work, one that was built by another members family, a beautiful cabin in the woods, another who just bought the nicest foreclosed home, and others who just have a great sense of style.

I felt house intimidated. I felt life intimidated.

My home is very small (under 800 sq. ft.) and is over 100 years old. It was a cottage in the woods built by an Ozark man - rustic is putting it mildly. We have not had the money to do all of the work and have to do it in very small pieces, $100 - $300 here and there.

I love our home, don't get me wrong. It's quirky, patchwork, loved self is part of who I am - not perfect, but charming.

Sharing it with others though is much harder. I keep thinking that they will judge me, think I haven't accomplished enough, don't have enough, aren't wealthy enough - that I am less in some way.

A serious case of the keeping up the Jones, even though there is no way that can happen!

Then I read something that changed my heart; it isn't about entertaining it is about hospitality. I could live in a dirt floored hut and if I shared my space and my heart with my guests it wouldn't matter. Hospitality can happen anywhere and it can be lacking in some of our nations "nicest" homes.

I am still feeling very exposed by the experience of letting 13 women into my home to peruse my life, but I hope that they saw that it was presented in true love.

I'll do a little photo tour soon to share it with you too!

You Are Not in Love

Lately all of my old boyfriends, boys I kissed, dry humped (come on I am not the only girl to have done this with a boy), or slept with have been coming out of the woodwork. It must be because they are all turning 40 and it is easy to find me on Facebook. How it works is like this: they ask to be my friend on Facebook, I say yes, and then they don't talk to me and I don't talk to them. I guess they just want to be lurkers and "Facebook stalk" me. It is odd behavior, but I say yes and friend them. A part of me is flattered that even remember me - it was a long time ago. They are all married now, with kids, and busy lives and yet they want that minimal connection.

The funny thing is that I don't remember some of them until they do request to be my friend. I don't dwell much on the past and my teen years were not my best, in fact, they were notoriously bad. I was the girl you would never have wanted to bring home to meet your mother. Sleep with me, yes. Dinner, no.

There were few boys that I was in love with and even that was more charged with sex than actual love. In fact, it could have just been dopamine reactions, although that isn't very sentimental.

I don't regret any of my past, it made me who I am, but I don't live in it. I don't have any of my high school yearbooks, I don't go to reunions, I don't have any of the love letters or sentimental items given to me - it was over 25 years ago and I am in such a different place now.

Still, I am flattered that they remember.

Photo Credit: Sam Stoner

Are You Talking Clearly

I am not a big believer in horoscopes or astrology, but I like to read mine everyday - more as a reminder that I am not the center of the universe. Yes, I need that universe.

"Codependency is a trap, yet it's still easy to base your responses on how you believe someone else will react. Forget about weighing the impact of your words; just say them aloud as they enter your awareness. Your attitude is crucial now, so express yourself in a way that also conveys kindness and demonstrates flexibility. Others will be so appreciative to know how deeply you feel that they won't likely care if you agree with them or not."

What struck me is that my friend J and I were discussing a mutual friend of ours who tells it like it is, regardless of how you will feel about it. He is a brilliant mind, rational thinker, and able to make a point succinct like no other.

The piece that is missing, sometimes, is the kindness and flexibility.

I know for myself that I struggle with caring too much about what other people will think (people who know me will beg to differ and think I just say anything). I weigh each word and idea until I have concluded a way to say it that will cause the outcome to be A) what I want and B) not hurt them unless I want that too. So, it isn't only manipulative to "care too much", but it is supposing that we even know what other people are thinking or what their reaction will be.

That is a lot of audacity.

So instead, what if we just said what was true. Nothing embellished, nothing weighed down with the stickiness of manipulating the situation - but with kindness. Wrap the words we say with graciousness and kindness and the understanding that our thinking has the ability to change and theirs does too.

Throw in a little, my way is my way and yours is yours and either way is ok, and we might be able to have authentic relationships with other people.

Without the idea that we are responsible for their emotions and yet trying to cause no harm. For women, and men as well, I think the idea that we could speak clearly and without worrying about how, what, and when we say it would be freeing.

I am not advocating just telling everyone everything you think - that would be a nightmare - and, really, you and I don't want to know.

Figuring out a way to speak with integrity, clarity, honesty, and simple language without all of the codependent baggage would free up time, energy and a whole lot of responsibility. I know that when I couch my words in a way to soften them because I am worried that someone will take it the wrong way I feel unreal. There is an icky feeling deep in my stomach that knows that I am not speaking from a place of clarity - this makes all of it worse then it needs to.

So, give up the everyone else's baggage and practice clear communication with kindness. This is an absolute goal for me - how are you with your words?

Photo Credit: The Shouting Baby - Alva Chien

 

Not Freaking Out

I am trying something new in my life: not freaking out. I know, what took me so long! My normal mode of operation is to vent about what is pissing me off, but I started to think that might be fueling the anger. So instead, I am just feeling the unpleasantness.

It isn't easy. The feelings are like waves that rush through me. When I start to feel frustrated (a polite way of saying angry) I am just feeling that feeling. And just like waves they start to roll out and are gone. There may be some residual thing that nags a bit at my brain, but the overall feeling has passed.

For example, I sometimes work with someone who can be cranky in email and in person. They tend to send short blasts that have cutting remarks of reprimand - like you cranky grandparent in the workplace. When I first received one of these missiles I called up a work friend and vented for at least 20 minutes. It fueled that feeling of hurt/anger/injustice and I felt empowered and justified in those feelings. The thing was though that those feelings didn't go away - they stayed right with me and fueled everyone else who I told the story to, possibly damaging relationships or at least coloring them with my version of events.

So, yesterday I got another curt reply and decided to try something else. I read it. I wrote a quick, happy email back stating the facts briefly, and wished them a good evening. Short and to the point - I even smiled while I typed knowing that the act of smiling will improve your mood.

And afterward I felt good. I didn't let the email or the person dominate my evening. I didn't let them disrupt my positive work environment. And I didn't continue the story by sharing it with someone else (well, except here as an example.)

This is a HUGE shift for me. The idea of just dealing with things as they come up, not piling on extra feelings, and not venting about every last thing.

My reasoning is that there are so many other things to get really pissed off about: contaminated eggs and the food supply caused by industrial farming, the stealing of the Barnes Foundation Art by the Philidelphia Museum of Art, the killings in Somalia, the craziness of our country over the building of a Mosque in New York, the injustice of same-sex marriages being banned, the fear of immigration... the list goes on and on (and the overall frustrating writing/opinions in the Democrat Gazette) that to waste it on every little thing is just exhausting and distracting.

So, this is new. A new practice. A new way to try living... by just doing that, letting people live. I am someone who has to ask her husband if his bad/depressed mood was caused by anything that I did (I often think that it all revolves around me) and to let that go for everyone else that I come into contact with is so freeing.

I had a Buddhist teacher tell me once that I possibly had an enlarged Amygdala (the part of the brain that stores emotional responses). I am not sure about that (it is often found to be true with children who are diagnosed with Autism and Bipolar disorder), but I am sure that the emotional response is hardwired by years of trauma as a child. And relearning behaviors that are less stressful and less fear based take continued work and practice.

I want nothing more to not be bashed around by peoples hidden agendas, missives, and rough handling of situations and one of the things that I can control about that is to just let myself feel the initial feelings that come up and then respond with kindness. I'll let you know how it goes.

Photo Credit: HeathBrandon

Watch Your Language Dear

Last week my family enjoyed the first season of Hung on DVD. For those that aren't in the know, it is an HBO show that is crafted around the idea of a divorced guy, who is slowly going down the tubes and seriously needs cash. He takes a motivational business class with this total loser of a teacher, but realizes that his only real idea and asset is his big penis. He and a classmate, a former lover who was also a poetry teacher at the school he coaches basketball at, decide to open Happiness Consultants... basically he's a gigolo. (Is that even a word anymore?)

Well, what I realized is that I am a woman who says fuck.

Yep.

I am not shy about it. It is just a word. A word that expresses some emotions like no other. When you are angry, "Fuck." When you are frustrated, "fuck." When something doesn't go right, "fuck". On and on.

There is a scene in one of the last episodes of Hung where a woman who has hired Ray says, over and over, "let's fuck." I realized watching that, feeling a little uncomfortable with my daughter and husband sitting on the couch next to me, that there is power in that. Women who are struggling with claiming their sexual side might feel a little more empowered if they said, "let's fuck" a few times.

My mother was a constant cusser. She had the mouth of a sailor and had no trouble telling someone to piss off. Her abrasiveness was often looked at with scorn, but she didn't suffer fools easily. I believe inheriting that trait was an obvious one for all the women in our family. My daughter certainly understands the well used placement of a "bad" word or two.

We also watch Entourage who has Ari, a character based on Rom Emanuel's brother, both of who are notorious potty mouths. Ari has such vivid language skills that he takes cursing to another level - one of pure bliss. I love watching him yell another epitaph, curse out a lame receptionist, or scream at his nemesis of the moment. There is such fun in his language - one that allows all words to exist simultaneously.

So, sure, in my provincial small town a woman who says fuck might be offensive to some, but I don't care - I am proud of my vocabulary- and it isn't the only word I know how to use.

Photo Credit: Marco C.

Advice Please

You would think that after 40 years I might know how to be, but you must remember that I was raised by wolves. If you have seen Running with Scissors that is basically my life in a nutshell. In fact, I thought that the author had snuck in and read my Hello Kitty journal, but I guess there can be two of us who lived living nightmares.

Anyway, as I was saying, you would think I would know these things, but I am looking for some advice to the following questions - feel free to comment or ring me up with your answers.

What do you do when you are talking to someone and they are openly talking about how much they hate someone, but you either have no opinion, like them, or just don't want to talk about other people? What is the best way to not belittle the person who is talking and still extradite yourself from the conversation?

What do you do when someone gripes about the same problems all of the time? They don't seem to be doing anything about it, but you don't want to continue to give your inspired (yet unsolicited) advice?

What do you do when someone is obviously trying to needle you? They are pushing the same buttons, telling the same stories, and trying to undermine what you are doing? This is usually a work thing where someone has a gripe with you and is passively trying to unsettle you - how do you handle that?

Any advice appreciated - I seem to run in with all three all of the time and have tried various things and always end up feeling awful after the conversation, like I need to take a shower. Help.

Photo Credit: Gabriella Camerotti

Goodbye Expectations

In my family we have the tradition of going out and having everything goes wrong. This is such a tradition that we call it the Goodman Wolven's Step Out. I don't know why, after 20 years, I would expect anything different. I shouldn't even blink or succumb to disappointment. It is how it is for us.

Like the one time we went to the 4th of July fireworks in San Francisco at Crissy Field and after they were all done there were no busses to get home. Which was ok, except that we lived completely across town and had a small child with us who was exhausted from a day at the park. We started hiking it home (and with the hills it is hiking). When we stopped at a bus stop after walking for over an hour the sprinklers turned on and soaked us and when the bus finally came we only had a $20 and no one would give us change. My husband swears that these are funny stories now. Not funny at the time, but funny now.

Last night, on our last night with our daughter before she goes back to college, we decided to swim at the house that we are house sitting at, go get burritos, and then go hear a band play in town. An evening plan that seems ok and not filled with potholes - also something totally uncharacteristic of the hermits we have become.

We decided to bring our dog to the house to play with their dogs and then sit next to the pool with us. When we arrived they were all excited to sniff and smell one another, as dogs do. We let them into the foyer of the house to take off the collars of their dogs and get their food when our dog proceeds to pee in the foyer and then in the kitchen. Not just regular pee, but that yellow sticky "here is my smell" pee. I clean that up, feed the dogs, send my dog out with our daughter, and go out to water. All is going well; our dog is outside, theirs are inside, dad and daughter are in the pool, I'm watering, and then I discover that our dog crapped on the porch. I swear, he was overwhelmed with desire to leave a bit of himself at their home. Clean that up...

Dinner was easy and delicious. A giant Garcia Burrito was just what we wanted.

Off to hear the Sideshow Tramps who were in town at a restaurant that has excellent waffle fries. We didn't need waffle fries, but we didn't want to take a table and just order water. That seems a bit rude. So, off to the cafe 10 minutes before the band was supposed to start. An hour and a half later they start their set. At the same time we had nursed our root beer, water, and iced tea all we could. The place had started to fill up and I started to feel guilty for taking a prime table in this tiny patio. So, a song and a half later we gave up our space to a group waiting on the edge.

So it goes. Dogs do what dogs do, bands show up late, and I am - after 20 years - learning to let go of expectations. We'll see how I do the next time we step out.

Plastic Trays, Muslims, and KidLit

Some things I just learned or realized (yep, sometimes I am slow):

I have never eaten food off of a plastic tray. Which means I have never experienced that feeling of having a cafeteria worker slop mac and cheese right on a plastic compartment. I don't think at 40 I would be comfortable with this way of eating and yet we have millions of people eating of trays. Really, plates, people. Plates.

The only difference (ok there may be more) between the Shiite and Sunni are that they disagree on who came after Mohammad. Was it his brother in law or not. There is no scriptural difference, just who was next in line. And since Muslim's believe that Mohammad was the last profit why does that matter at all. Nothing like boiling down centuries of conflict into one little nugget.

There are other adults who are into Young Adult lit. I just read an article in the Dem Gaz about a group of women who meet to discuss kid lit and they are not just talking Harry Potter. Nice to know there are other fans out there.

There is a mosque right next to the Stupa where Buddha found enlightenment. Which seems like a pretty holy place - if you are into that kind of thing. If a mosque can be there can't there be one blocks from "Ground Zero". Muslims and Buddhists fought centuries ago and yet now seem to live peacefully next to one another. I think our perspective is small, perhaps time will heal that wound.

That's all for today - I am sure I will learn new stuff soon!

Photo Credit: TeeJayHanton