Sometimes

Sometimes the sun doesn't break through the thundering clouds.
Sometimes the cavalry doesn't arrive in the nick of time.
Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you lose.

God knows I've been there. At times, it's felt like I've lived there. Maybe I still am. Maybe when you've been defeated so many times, you start looking at defeats as the norm. It's the way of the world, you tell yourself. You adopt an ironic attitude with a drenching of fatalism and a sprinkling of desert dry wit. And what you dream...those are dreams for your next life.

I understand this. I know how easy it is to give up and how hard it is to go on when you've learned your dreams are too big and life is too hard. The wind breaks the butterfly's wings; the rain drowns the tiny scurrying hearts.

Still...it's not comfortable accepting defeat. You gain nothing by sitting there in your sorrows except the satisfaction of telling the world that you won't play anymore. It won't have you to kick around. You'll just withdraw. Take your toys and go home.

I guess, for some people, that's enough. The world beat them; they accept their defeat with grace and take pride in that.

But me...I'm stubborn. You're stubborn. There's nothing wrong with taking a break, catching our breath, having a bit of rest to recharge. But we have to get back out there. We have to face the wind and trek through the driving rain. Yeah, our dreams are big, but who wants small ones?

Remember, things don't happen to us; we happen to things. The world has teeth, that is true, but...friends, we got fangs.

(For CK)

Great Quote

"What if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen. ... Pick a new direction, one you wouldn’t mind ending up at, and aim for that. Shoot the moon." -- Anne Lamott

Time will tell

Had a productive day today. Very pleased with this. Checked a lot of items off my list.

Wish I could understand how this works. One day I am back in the groove, and then next day, I'm stumbling around again. Today I was in the groove and got a lot done. I would like to get several days like this in a row. That would be amazing.

In the past, I could do that. But for nearly three years, I have not. Perhaps the fact I get the groove days every now and then is a sign that I'm finally...finally...getting my mojo back. Don't want to get my hopes up...hope can kill you, you know...but the possibility is exciting. Perhaps I've finally turned the corner.

Time will tell.

And yeah, I'm hopeful, anyway. Sue me.

The sorts of success

Defining success is always a problem. It's easy to figure what the world defines as such: money, big house, fast car, party hardy, and so on. And I think, for some people, that is success for them.

It's harder when that isn't success to you. Of course, there is the non-material success where accomplishments are measured by how many yoga stances you can master and your hours of meditation and whether or not you've given everything to the poor and marched for every right that you can march for.

Between those lies a more fulfilling road. That of moderation suggested by Apostle Paul. Of having enough financial success to pay your bills and allow for an occasional luxury and having sufficient peace of mind and compassion to help those you can help and pray for the others. That middle road is, for me, the hardest, because it requires control. It requires thought. You have to behave as an adult even when you're being childish, if that makes sense.

It's a journey that I'm still just starting, looking to the horizon, and putting one foot in front of another. I'm not sure anyone arrives in this life, but the attempt, the journey, is one we should attempt if we want to leave the world better than it was when we arrived.

Cultivate your garden

I had a busy three days last week. Felt ill the first part of the week, but better on Thursday and worked around house, catching up on many chores that I was behind on. And so now I face another week that I must fill with things.

I'm going to try to fill it with writing. Chores, of course. A couple of appointments. But writing. I need to write. To define me again. To move forward. To embrace what's ahead of me and to keep the best of what's behind me.

Throwing the baby out with the bathwater has always been the mark of an immature person. To not realize the good things you have while grabbing for what you think is better.... Does this make any sense?

Hucksters abound on the Net these days. They offer to sell the tips and secrets of an abundant life, a million dollars, perfect health, a glorious life where you rule the world. Maybe they hold sacred knowledge imparted from past gurus and mysterious cabals. I don't know. I can't judge. If what they say works for you...if it makes you happier, if it helps you grow, then go forth and conquer.

But...I have this suspicion that none of that can take place until you take the first step...until you decide to move forward. And then it takes work. Work, work, work.... I've not reached the point that Voltaire did in Candide, ou l'Optimisme where work is the only thing that makes life bearable, but I have reached the point where I don't believe in the free lunch, in the lie that we are owed anything by anyone, in the fear of the unknown in favor of the known present.

As Candide said at the end, "We must cultivate our garden." Wisdom in that, don't you think?

Have a good week in your garden of life.

Great Quote

"It’s time to get serious about joy and fulfillment, work on our books, songs, dances, gardens. But perfectionism is always lurking nearby, like the demonic prowling lion in the Old Testament, waiting to pounce. It will convince you that your work-in-progress is not great, and that you may never get published. (Wait, forget the prowling satanic lion — your parents, living or dead, almost just as loudly either way, and your aunt Beth, and your passive-aggressive friends, whom we all think you should ditch, are going to ask, “Oh, you’re writing again? That’s nice. Do you have an agent?”)" -- Anne Lamott