Our house is still on the market. We had a buyer after the first open house in early June. She backed out after nearly a month. Nothing is wrong with our house; she didn't get an offer on hers after just 2 weeks and panicked. She felt overextended and pulled her house off the market.
I've been working very hard to let go of my anger, resentment, and negative energy over this. Part of me felt that offer was too good to be true, but I still trusted that buyer. She said she loved the house and really did want it. But her actions have screwed us over. Out of consideration for her and her offer, we did not aggressively market the house for that month. Once she pulled out, we needed to launch back into action. And now I worry that our house has the inaccurate reputation of "well, it's been on the market for 48 days so something must be wrong with it."
Because I basically suck at not being able to control a situation, I've been searching for anything to help me feel as if I am helping the process along. We continue to do the minor repairs and touch-ups that don't really make or break the sale of a house, but make us feel as if we've left nothing to chance. We've buried Saint Joseph upsidedown next to the "For Sale" sign and I've searched for blessings that are meant to attract buyers and/or inspire a quick sale of a property.
While all the blessings and props vary, they share a recurrent theme of clearing the house of the existing energy, letting go of the house and the fear of the sale, and allowing the house to seek and accept new energies/occupants. There's nothing in the blessings about buyers; it's all about the current owners letting go. So I'm wondering if my stress about the process and my annoyance toward that first buyer is getting in the way of an offer. I don't mean a direct link, but maybe the energy of this house is disrupted by my negativity and instead is directing itself toward caring for me and my family, as it's done for 11 years.
I was a talking to a friend yesterday about how we search for direction and action in times of despair or confusion. The conversation turned to the idea of appealing to the energies of the Universe, prayers and spirituality, psychic power, and vision boards. She told me that once, years ago, she had a cat who was very anti-social, mean, and destructive. Nothing seemed to help this cat; not a change in diet, full veterinarian exams, or catnip. Even for a cat this one seemed particularly "unhappy" with life. After about a year of trying to connect with the cat, my friend was referred to a pet psychic (she was living in San Francisco at the time). She called the psychic, who apparently didn't need to visit or meet the cat, but over the phone could sense the problem. According to the psychic, it wasn't the cat's issue, it was my friend. The pet psychic advised my friend to let go of negative energies and be more open and welcoming to affection. She claimed my friend subconsciously did not want to own a cat and had thus inadvertently disrupted the natural flow of energy.
My friend thought this was a bit odd, but admitted that she likely wasn't very appealing to the cat now since she really didn't like the cat anymore. She chose to give the cat away, and has had better success with other cats since.
This friend tells this story as "proof" that the psychic was just a step away from scam. After all, it's impossible to prove the psychic was wrong. But to me it is the essence of cognitive behavioral therapy--by changing our thinking we can change our behavior and vice versa. And that if we seek change in others we must first change ourselves, because we ultimately can't change another person. They might change in response to us, but true change is internal.
All this leads me back to seeking blessings to attract a buyer. While some of my external behavior indicates the change is in process (we close on the new house in 9 days and are scheduling movers), maybe I haven't really let go of this house.
I am encouraged this weekend, though. I've done some of the blessings, have a smudging ceremony planned for tomorrow morning before the open house, and will burn candles and incense aimed at attracting peace, harmony, and creativity. And here I publicly forgive that buyer, Ms. J.W at 19 S. St. I'm sorry it didn't work out. The house and I forgive you, and are ready to transfer our energies to a new buyer.
Oh, and we're in a waxing moon phase, which is the recommended time for attracting new energies.
A buyer is out there, and I have faith the Universe will direct them to our house this weekend.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I guess we live here now.
I've lived in my current city since 1994. The first 5 years I rented apartments as a tenant-at-will. The very idea I could give 30 days notice and go somewhere else helped me delay any decisions about where I really might want to live. When my husband and I bought our first house, we said it was for "5-7" years. We had vague plans to not live here--based mostly on assumption and stereotype about the city and urban living. We saw ourselves in the suburbs, as if that guaranteed a better life for us.
And then we had babies and I started graduate school. It made no sense to move out of the area during that time, especially since school and work were each 5-10 minutes away. And then husband's perfect job emerged--also 5-10 minutes from the house. For years we kept saying "next year we'll move." And then we looked closely at the details of where we lived and realized it's actually an amazing city. (And one in which, despite the economic downturn, has continued to prioritize schools and family services.) The city still has an underdog reputation, and has some undeniably shady history, but the past 15 years has seen a revitalization and emphasis on community that we have generally under-appreciated.
Our lifestyles emerged around urban conveniences. Delivery at any hour of any type of cuisine. A short commute to some of the most famous cultural, medical, and educational venues in the country. The fact our children have friends from around the world and are growing up with an inherent acceptance and appreciation for difference. And while this is something we'd teach them, I do love the fact we can "walk the walk" every single day. It wasn't until college that I knew anybody who wasn't almost exactly like me. Giving up the idea of a huge yard, distance from neighbors, and a two car garage was easier than we thought it would be. Our lives are busy--we don't have time for yard work anyway. We like our neighbors so it's not a problem that we can see into their windows and know what they are having for dinner if they forget to pull the blinds. And though we still dream of a garage, we're gaining off-street parking in our new house and that is progress enough. Plus, you gotta have dreams, right?
Our quality of life here is undeniable. My husband's job often requires him to return to work in the evenings, even if just for an hour or so. Living where we do means he can still be involved with after school pick up, dinner, and bedtime, and get back to work. Now that our older child is in second grade, her class takes field trips all over the city to museums, green spaces, free concerts, and the occasional movie at a local independent movie house, at minimal expense and maximum ease. And my husband and I can chaperon because it only means a couple of hours away from work, not a full day. It really is a good balance for our family and we are happy with it.
But for years we have also accepted the distance from some of the people whom we consider our primary tribe because of the promise of someday being their neighbors. These are people we've known for 20 years that I consider extensions of my heart and soul. The hardest part about admitting we aren't moving out of the city is admitting we won't be living 5 minutes from them. I've ignored that for the better part of 5 years. Buying a new house in our current city has forced me to admit we really live here now, and are here to stay.
In practice, nothing will change. We will make the 45 minute drive for parties and important events. They will come to us, we will go to them. But for so long I believed they would also be the "let's meet for coffee in an hour" or "my car died can you pick up my kids" friends. I had looked forward to the day when getting together involved less advance planning and coordination. To fully admit that this won't be the case has created an unexpected mourning period, which makes me feel silly. After all, by not moving an hour away I'm staying close to some of the other members of the same tribe. But I still feel like for years I said one thing and am now doing the opposite. A little part of me is fighting social insecurity, as if the revocation of the promise to live down the road will be held against me.
And then we had babies and I started graduate school. It made no sense to move out of the area during that time, especially since school and work were each 5-10 minutes away. And then husband's perfect job emerged--also 5-10 minutes from the house. For years we kept saying "next year we'll move." And then we looked closely at the details of where we lived and realized it's actually an amazing city. (And one in which, despite the economic downturn, has continued to prioritize schools and family services.) The city still has an underdog reputation, and has some undeniably shady history, but the past 15 years has seen a revitalization and emphasis on community that we have generally under-appreciated.
Our lifestyles emerged around urban conveniences. Delivery at any hour of any type of cuisine. A short commute to some of the most famous cultural, medical, and educational venues in the country. The fact our children have friends from around the world and are growing up with an inherent acceptance and appreciation for difference. And while this is something we'd teach them, I do love the fact we can "walk the walk" every single day. It wasn't until college that I knew anybody who wasn't almost exactly like me. Giving up the idea of a huge yard, distance from neighbors, and a two car garage was easier than we thought it would be. Our lives are busy--we don't have time for yard work anyway. We like our neighbors so it's not a problem that we can see into their windows and know what they are having for dinner if they forget to pull the blinds. And though we still dream of a garage, we're gaining off-street parking in our new house and that is progress enough. Plus, you gotta have dreams, right?
Our quality of life here is undeniable. My husband's job often requires him to return to work in the evenings, even if just for an hour or so. Living where we do means he can still be involved with after school pick up, dinner, and bedtime, and get back to work. Now that our older child is in second grade, her class takes field trips all over the city to museums, green spaces, free concerts, and the occasional movie at a local independent movie house, at minimal expense and maximum ease. And my husband and I can chaperon because it only means a couple of hours away from work, not a full day. It really is a good balance for our family and we are happy with it.
But for years we have also accepted the distance from some of the people whom we consider our primary tribe because of the promise of someday being their neighbors. These are people we've known for 20 years that I consider extensions of my heart and soul. The hardest part about admitting we aren't moving out of the city is admitting we won't be living 5 minutes from them. I've ignored that for the better part of 5 years. Buying a new house in our current city has forced me to admit we really live here now, and are here to stay.
In practice, nothing will change. We will make the 45 minute drive for parties and important events. They will come to us, we will go to them. But for so long I believed they would also be the "let's meet for coffee in an hour" or "my car died can you pick up my kids" friends. I had looked forward to the day when getting together involved less advance planning and coordination. To fully admit that this won't be the case has created an unexpected mourning period, which makes me feel silly. After all, by not moving an hour away I'm staying close to some of the other members of the same tribe. But I still feel like for years I said one thing and am now doing the opposite. A little part of me is fighting social insecurity, as if the revocation of the promise to live down the road will be held against me.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Now that I've made my bed . . .
Remember how your high school English teacher would tell you "write first, title last"? That the title should come from the body of the work to reflect a key sentiment, phrase, or image? Well, I've never been able to do that. I'm type A and I do things In Order, and I could never get my left brain to accept that naming a piece was the last step. After all, it's the first thing you read. So it goes first. (I also judge books by their cover, but what can you do?)
I don't have a title for this entry, and I'm typing blind (no, not literally. geez). I wanted to write, I have some time (see what waking up unassisted at 5am can lead to?), and I have so much on my brain. Let's see what blogging does.
Our house is on the market. We've been working like crazy people for two weeks to get it ready because we have an accepted offer on another house. Not the one I originally walked by each day to ask it to help me out, but the one in the neighborhood that must have heard me and decided it wanted me because it went on the market about two weeks into my walks.
It's very odd living in a house you are trying to sell. We decluttered and cleaned (OK, we hired people to do that for us). The place looks amazing. AMAZING. I saw the listing and thought "I want to buy that house." I'm so proud of how it looks and all the work we've done over the years. Especially the care and maintenance my husband has given the home. He often drives me nuts with some of what I see as overly obsessive details, but in this case, some of that has paid off. (SOME of that. Not all. He reads this and I need him to know this is not carte blanche for the rest of what I hope will be 60+ more years together. I will still argue that some things can be ignored without any consequence.)
We had our first showing yesterday and two more scheduled for today, and our open house is this weekend. I'm excited and uneasy at the same time. Having strangers walk through and judge your most personal spaces is weird. It's just weird. And though most of what makes it personal has been removed or hidden away, I'm thinking more about how the energy here is personal. We've already shaken it up by turning our home into a show piece (we do NOT live this way, and the house knows it). I want at least one of these strangers to love the house and buy it, obviously. But I want all the people who see it to like it and appreciate it, because it is a reflection on me in some way. I hear Sally Field's Oscar speech in my head as we get ready for the showings. ("You like me! You really like me!")
I have all the expected feelings about this process. Excited for the new house. A little sad to be leaving this, our first house, and the one in which our grownup life took roots and the only home our children have ever known. This house has been very good to us, and I hope it will be OK when we aren't here to look after it.
But most of all I want the process over because I am not the type to make my bed every day just in case someone wants to come see the house while we're all at work and school.
I don't have a title for this entry, and I'm typing blind (no, not literally. geez). I wanted to write, I have some time (see what waking up unassisted at 5am can lead to?), and I have so much on my brain. Let's see what blogging does.
Our house is on the market. We've been working like crazy people for two weeks to get it ready because we have an accepted offer on another house. Not the one I originally walked by each day to ask it to help me out, but the one in the neighborhood that must have heard me and decided it wanted me because it went on the market about two weeks into my walks.
It's very odd living in a house you are trying to sell. We decluttered and cleaned (OK, we hired people to do that for us). The place looks amazing. AMAZING. I saw the listing and thought "I want to buy that house." I'm so proud of how it looks and all the work we've done over the years. Especially the care and maintenance my husband has given the home. He often drives me nuts with some of what I see as overly obsessive details, but in this case, some of that has paid off. (SOME of that. Not all. He reads this and I need him to know this is not carte blanche for the rest of what I hope will be 60+ more years together. I will still argue that some things can be ignored without any consequence.)
We had our first showing yesterday and two more scheduled for today, and our open house is this weekend. I'm excited and uneasy at the same time. Having strangers walk through and judge your most personal spaces is weird. It's just weird. And though most of what makes it personal has been removed or hidden away, I'm thinking more about how the energy here is personal. We've already shaken it up by turning our home into a show piece (we do NOT live this way, and the house knows it). I want at least one of these strangers to love the house and buy it, obviously. But I want all the people who see it to like it and appreciate it, because it is a reflection on me in some way. I hear Sally Field's Oscar speech in my head as we get ready for the showings. ("You like me! You really like me!")
I have all the expected feelings about this process. Excited for the new house. A little sad to be leaving this, our first house, and the one in which our grownup life took roots and the only home our children have ever known. This house has been very good to us, and I hope it will be OK when we aren't here to look after it.
But most of all I want the process over because I am not the type to make my bed every day just in case someone wants to come see the house while we're all at work and school.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
I knew blogging would become a form of procrastination.
I should not be sitting here. I really, really, REALLY should not be sitting here.
We are putting our house on the market in one week. We only decided to do so 5 days ago, when the offer we made on another house was accepted. We're off to the home inspection soon, and we fully expect to proceed with the purchase.
And we have eleven years worth of stuff to deal with. Those PoS from earlier posts? Those were gentle waves on a summer day. The rest of the house is a tsunami.
But I work well under pressure. Extremely well. In fact, I'm sort of addicted to the adrenaline rush of meeting a deadline. Forced choice is an amazing motivator. I do not have time to carefully sort through all the boxes in the attic that I had thought I would someday. My choice is pay movers to take it or throw it out/recycle. And since I hate to pay money for something I'm not confident I need, I'm tossing and recycling and arranging donations. (Big Brothers/Big Sisters and GotBooks both pick up at the house. I love those people. But they are going to hate me when they see the size of the donations.)
The recycling and trash collectors are going to hate me, too.
But my spirit is light and I'm determined to enter our new house bringing only what will serve us in this new phase of life. I'm letting go of the person I was 15 years ago when I had different passions, a different career, and different goals. An thus I can let go of the stuff.
It helps that I'm so freaking exhausted and feel more sleep deprived than I did in those early weeks with a newborn. Why does that help? Because I just don't give a rat's ass about pots and pans and knickknacks and old books---it's all going away. Maybe someday I'll regret not having more than 1 flower vase or 27 coffee mugs. But I am determined not to, because the desire to be free is strong enough to counter any regret.
So I really shouldn't be sitting here. Back to packing and cleaning out.
We are putting our house on the market in one week. We only decided to do so 5 days ago, when the offer we made on another house was accepted. We're off to the home inspection soon, and we fully expect to proceed with the purchase.
And we have eleven years worth of stuff to deal with. Those PoS from earlier posts? Those were gentle waves on a summer day. The rest of the house is a tsunami.
But I work well under pressure. Extremely well. In fact, I'm sort of addicted to the adrenaline rush of meeting a deadline. Forced choice is an amazing motivator. I do not have time to carefully sort through all the boxes in the attic that I had thought I would someday. My choice is pay movers to take it or throw it out/recycle. And since I hate to pay money for something I'm not confident I need, I'm tossing and recycling and arranging donations. (Big Brothers/Big Sisters and GotBooks both pick up at the house. I love those people. But they are going to hate me when they see the size of the donations.)
The recycling and trash collectors are going to hate me, too.
But my spirit is light and I'm determined to enter our new house bringing only what will serve us in this new phase of life. I'm letting go of the person I was 15 years ago when I had different passions, a different career, and different goals. An thus I can let go of the stuff.
It helps that I'm so freaking exhausted and feel more sleep deprived than I did in those early weeks with a newborn. Why does that help? Because I just don't give a rat's ass about pots and pans and knickknacks and old books---it's all going away. Maybe someday I'll regret not having more than 1 flower vase or 27 coffee mugs. But I am determined not to, because the desire to be free is strong enough to counter any regret.
So I really shouldn't be sitting here. Back to packing and cleaning out.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Basket Case
A PS to yesterday's blog: The basket I put together for last night's fundraiser was the first one selected. That's right, the very first winner chose the basket I put together.
My work there is done.
PPS: The air condidtioner wasn't working. The speeches went on way too long. And the cocktail hour included Ritz crackers, which gives you an idea of the budget for the dinner. But my basket was chosen first, so it was all ok.
My work there is done.
PPS: The air condidtioner wasn't working. The speeches went on way too long. And the cocktail hour included Ritz crackers, which gives you an idea of the budget for the dinner. But my basket was chosen first, so it was all ok.
Friday, May 14, 2010
That dream, you know, where your brain says run but your feet don't move.
I have that feeling again. The one where I know I'm overworked but I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything. Where I feel full of plans but empty of action. Where my brain says run and my feet don't move but I'm not standing still.
I don't know what to do.
And the irony is, any choice I make will be FINE. I know it will. But I want more than fine. I want to be excited about the choice and feel it's meant to be. I haven't had a moment like that in a while and it's getting to me. I know I stress too much about things that don't really matter. Like today---I have to get a basket of something together to be one of the raffle prizes at a dinner dance I have to attend tonight. I have no idea what the target value is and the organizers have been no help. (Which is a post for another time, because come on, if you are in charge of the event have some freaking idea what you want when you ask people to do something!)
Last year, I had what I thought it was a kick ass basket and it was the last one chosen. Well, second to last, but the very last was a collection of wrapping paper that were obviously the samples from the fundraiser company used by that group. Mine was awesome, and valued at about $100. It was all high-end arts and crafts and stuff for kids from a la-di-da boutique in town. But clearly the attendees of the dinner dance weren't interested in stuff for kids, because it was last.
Anyway, my point is I felt like I made the wrong choice. I was so excited for this basket, and it was painful to sit through 45 minutes of a raffle of 20 or so items and watch one by one winners look over, and not choose the one I brought. Although it wasn't a reflection on me--it's not a personal donation, I felt like a loser. On one hand, I'm determined to do better tonight. But on the other hand, I don't really care. I'm tired, overworked, starting to not feel well, and have absolutely no desire to smile and mingle and chit chat with the mayor and make nice with a bunch of people who would rather take home cheese wheels and crackers than expensive art stuff. But we all know that I will. I'll be charming and gracious and agree that the new parking regulations in the city are necessary despite the general annoyance they have caused.
But it's about choices, and I hate making bad ones. Last year I thought my choice was A-1 awesome. And I was wrong. I clearly didn't know my audience, and that wasn't totally my fault. But still.
That house that I love is still on the market. But now it has competition. The house literally in it's back yard just went on the market today. We're totally going to the open house this weekend, and on paper it has some of the things we think we want that Dream House #1 doesn't have (like a home office with it's own bathroom! Private practice, here I come!). But I feel like I've pledged my allegiance to House #1--the one I walk by and have asked it to wait. And it has. What happens if we like House #2 better, and actually buy it? And then House #1 drops in price because it's so sad and we could have had it anyway?
What if we make the wrong choice? (See how I said "we" this time. I'm not taking the fall for a wrong choice alone!)
I'm exaggerating, of course. Well, a little. Maybe next time I should write about being prone to dramatics. If I can get my feet to move.
I don't know what to do.
And the irony is, any choice I make will be FINE. I know it will. But I want more than fine. I want to be excited about the choice and feel it's meant to be. I haven't had a moment like that in a while and it's getting to me. I know I stress too much about things that don't really matter. Like today---I have to get a basket of something together to be one of the raffle prizes at a dinner dance I have to attend tonight. I have no idea what the target value is and the organizers have been no help. (Which is a post for another time, because come on, if you are in charge of the event have some freaking idea what you want when you ask people to do something!)
Last year, I had what I thought it was a kick ass basket and it was the last one chosen. Well, second to last, but the very last was a collection of wrapping paper that were obviously the samples from the fundraiser company used by that group. Mine was awesome, and valued at about $100. It was all high-end arts and crafts and stuff for kids from a la-di-da boutique in town. But clearly the attendees of the dinner dance weren't interested in stuff for kids, because it was last.
Anyway, my point is I felt like I made the wrong choice. I was so excited for this basket, and it was painful to sit through 45 minutes of a raffle of 20 or so items and watch one by one winners look over, and not choose the one I brought. Although it wasn't a reflection on me--it's not a personal donation, I felt like a loser. On one hand, I'm determined to do better tonight. But on the other hand, I don't really care. I'm tired, overworked, starting to not feel well, and have absolutely no desire to smile and mingle and chit chat with the mayor and make nice with a bunch of people who would rather take home cheese wheels and crackers than expensive art stuff. But we all know that I will. I'll be charming and gracious and agree that the new parking regulations in the city are necessary despite the general annoyance they have caused.
But it's about choices, and I hate making bad ones. Last year I thought my choice was A-1 awesome. And I was wrong. I clearly didn't know my audience, and that wasn't totally my fault. But still.
That house that I love is still on the market. But now it has competition. The house literally in it's back yard just went on the market today. We're totally going to the open house this weekend, and on paper it has some of the things we think we want that Dream House #1 doesn't have (like a home office with it's own bathroom! Private practice, here I come!). But I feel like I've pledged my allegiance to House #1--the one I walk by and have asked it to wait. And it has. What happens if we like House #2 better, and actually buy it? And then House #1 drops in price because it's so sad and we could have had it anyway?
What if we make the wrong choice? (See how I said "we" this time. I'm not taking the fall for a wrong choice alone!)
I'm exaggerating, of course. Well, a little. Maybe next time I should write about being prone to dramatics. If I can get my feet to move.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
House stalking is probably not the same thing as house hunting, but it does mean exercise.
I've been trying to get back into a regular exercise routine, which means getting out of bed at 5:30-5:45am (breaking my "no alarm should ever sound before 6am" rule). Some days it takes me nearly 45 mins to get myself dressed and out the door, but I pride myself on at least getting some exercise. One point isn't four points but it's better than no points, I tell my sleepy self.
I actually really enjoy the early morning walks (perhaps, one day, to turn into runs). I like being out in the city when it's quiet, watching it wake up. I like the alone time. I like listening to various morning radio shows now that I've figured out how to switch stations on my Nano without activating the live pause feature (or whatever it's called--you know, like a DVR, when you can pause and rewind a live broadcast).
And I like exploring the city. I wander down streets I never have reason to visit any other time in my day, or in my life for that matter. I discover parks (so that's where the [name of city] Junction is!). I find neighborhoods I like and neighborhoods I put on the "rule out" list.
But over the past two weeks a certain route has emerged. Every walk I start by visiting the house I refer to as mine, despite not making an offer to purchase (yet). It's vacant, so I figure it might be lonely. I say good morning. I promise to come back again. I quietly ask it to wait for me. I acknowledge it's loneliness and recognize it's desire to have a family again, and I assure it that I'm doing everything I can to be that family. I explain that we just can't afford it at the price the owners who moved out of state and left it alone decided to list it for, but if it can help me out and not let anyone else move in just yet, I really believe it will all work out.
I pretend to stretch out a cramp so I have an excuse to pause and linger, and sometimes I really do stretch so I have an excuse to touch the front steps. I'm still working on a way to go into the driveway so I can say hello to my backyard. I'm thinking I need to "accidentally" drop my keys. If I'm running, I could toss them and make it look like they flew out of my hands mid arm swing, right? That should get them some loft and direction.
And if for some reason my walk doesn't take me past it, I feel guilty. If more than a day or two passes, I feel like I'm letting the house down. I worry it will get disappointed and refuse to let me be it's family. But my house wouldn't hold a grudge, I think. And it would have faith that I'd keep my word and be back soon.
Part of me really believes that the house will pick me because I am (probably) the only one to visit it so much.
I just hope the neighbors don't report a sunrise stalker.
Anything to motivate the health and fitness section of my Vision Board, right?
I actually really enjoy the early morning walks (perhaps, one day, to turn into runs). I like being out in the city when it's quiet, watching it wake up. I like the alone time. I like listening to various morning radio shows now that I've figured out how to switch stations on my Nano without activating the live pause feature (or whatever it's called--you know, like a DVR, when you can pause and rewind a live broadcast).
And I like exploring the city. I wander down streets I never have reason to visit any other time in my day, or in my life for that matter. I discover parks (so that's where the [name of city] Junction is!). I find neighborhoods I like and neighborhoods I put on the "rule out" list.
But over the past two weeks a certain route has emerged. Every walk I start by visiting the house I refer to as mine, despite not making an offer to purchase (yet). It's vacant, so I figure it might be lonely. I say good morning. I promise to come back again. I quietly ask it to wait for me. I acknowledge it's loneliness and recognize it's desire to have a family again, and I assure it that I'm doing everything I can to be that family. I explain that we just can't afford it at the price the owners who moved out of state and left it alone decided to list it for, but if it can help me out and not let anyone else move in just yet, I really believe it will all work out.
I pretend to stretch out a cramp so I have an excuse to pause and linger, and sometimes I really do stretch so I have an excuse to touch the front steps. I'm still working on a way to go into the driveway so I can say hello to my backyard. I'm thinking I need to "accidentally" drop my keys. If I'm running, I could toss them and make it look like they flew out of my hands mid arm swing, right? That should get them some loft and direction.
And if for some reason my walk doesn't take me past it, I feel guilty. If more than a day or two passes, I feel like I'm letting the house down. I worry it will get disappointed and refuse to let me be it's family. But my house wouldn't hold a grudge, I think. And it would have faith that I'd keep my word and be back soon.
Part of me really believes that the house will pick me because I am (probably) the only one to visit it so much.
I just hope the neighbors don't report a sunrise stalker.
Anything to motivate the health and fitness section of my Vision Board, right?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Vision Board
Well, I did it. I actually collaged my way to a Vision Board. The process started with the task of eliminating the stacks of magazines (one of the many PoS in my life). As I flipped through a few, certain images and phrases caught my attention. And then I heard my friend's voice urging me to create a Vision Board with the dream house in mind. (Why do I keep capitalizing the "V" and the "B?")
As I gathered images and phrases I had flashbacks to the few other times I've done this in the past--all during high school. I covered a clip board, I created a locker display, I covered a Ziggy corkboard that hung in my room. I know I didn't do these projects thinking Vision Board, and I honestly can't say whether or not the Universe listened. I assume it did, though, and some of the things that found their way to those projects manifested in my life in one way or another.
I assume this because I believe in the power of connection~ the connection between people as well as the connection of our past self to our present and then future selves. And by "past self" I mean both who we were as children as well as possible past lives. Why else would some images and phrases feel right while others didn't even catch my attention? Each one somehow connects to who I am or who I want to be, and those selves were/are built on my past self/selves (there I go, again sounding like I suffer from multiple personality disorder).
I selected items for my board without strict rules~ my right brain enjoyed it and my left constantly worried whether or not I had the right items, too many or too few, and how they were all going to fit. And my left brain remembered that my friend who urged me to do this mentioned she had a book on creating Vision Boards. Since I have no book, Left Brain is worried I did it wrong and will somehow cause the Universe it's very first nervous breakdown. Or that I placed the future goals in the wrong spot (Feng Shui of Vision Board?) and the Universe will think they are past goals I'm trying to release. Right Brain tells Left Brain there couldn't possibly be one right way to do a Vision Board, and, in fact, there's no such thing as a wrong way because it is what I need and want it to be. I really hope Right Brain is correct on this one.
My categories are the house, my physical health, my educational/professional goals, and a future goal that relates to my education and profession but is big enough to need its own section.
Oh, and it's double sided because I had a few images that Right Brain wanted but Left Brain couldn't make them fit on the first side.
It's crowded and wordy, but I trust the Universe can sort it out.
As I gathered images and phrases I had flashbacks to the few other times I've done this in the past--all during high school. I covered a clip board, I created a locker display, I covered a Ziggy corkboard that hung in my room. I know I didn't do these projects thinking Vision Board, and I honestly can't say whether or not the Universe listened. I assume it did, though, and some of the things that found their way to those projects manifested in my life in one way or another.
I assume this because I believe in the power of connection~ the connection between people as well as the connection of our past self to our present and then future selves. And by "past self" I mean both who we were as children as well as possible past lives. Why else would some images and phrases feel right while others didn't even catch my attention? Each one somehow connects to who I am or who I want to be, and those selves were/are built on my past self/selves (there I go, again sounding like I suffer from multiple personality disorder).
I selected items for my board without strict rules~ my right brain enjoyed it and my left constantly worried whether or not I had the right items, too many or too few, and how they were all going to fit. And my left brain remembered that my friend who urged me to do this mentioned she had a book on creating Vision Boards. Since I have no book, Left Brain is worried I did it wrong and will somehow cause the Universe it's very first nervous breakdown. Or that I placed the future goals in the wrong spot (Feng Shui of Vision Board?) and the Universe will think they are past goals I'm trying to release. Right Brain tells Left Brain there couldn't possibly be one right way to do a Vision Board, and, in fact, there's no such thing as a wrong way because it is what I need and want it to be. I really hope Right Brain is correct on this one.
My categories are the house, my physical health, my educational/professional goals, and a future goal that relates to my education and profession but is big enough to need its own section.
Oh, and it's double sided because I had a few images that Right Brain wanted but Left Brain couldn't make them fit on the first side.
It's crowded and wordy, but I trust the Universe can sort it out.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Shrinking PoS
Just a note to officially document that many of the PoS (piles of stuff) that dominate my life are gone. The dining room table is clear. As in we-could-actually-eat-there-without-any-effort-clear (except that we eat at the kitchen table because, well, that's where the food is and it's a shorter walk).
Not that anyone cares that much about my progress towards cleaner lines, reduction of excess, and the unburdening of the self, but I wanted it known that I can make it happen. (Ha! And you thought it was just about random paperwork and the like.) The reduced PoS lifestyle is only guaranteed for 48 hours though, because I know better. Stuff will enter my life and will be put into piles. Those piles will secretly mate in the night and will take over my space again. And someday I'll have the time, energy, desire, and recycling bins to eliminate them again. And that time will occur when I'm really avoiding getting back into an exercise routine (which was the other goal for this week).
I strive to be one of those people who can stay organized and live in what appears to be the Ikea catalog. (Despite the inventory in that store, it appears that one must purchase the furniture and never put any stuff on it. I admire that, I really do.) But this determination fades because I get bored and annoyed by picking up the same stuff over and over. It's just easier to let it pile until it threatens a coup.
Funny, I wasn't going to write much about the PoS reduction when I started. I just wanted a time stamp to prove I had a clean house at one point. I wanted to write about the Vision Board I'm starting and the fact I've become obsessed with a house that is on the market but is overpriced. If you are ever in the car with me, I will drive you there to show you what I now call my new house. The fact that we've made no offer to purchase is a minor detail easily overlooked. The fact that it may never be in our price range (though, it should, based on all market data), or that someone else will be willing to over pay are also easily overlooked details. I have faith it will be my house someday because the Universe proved itself to me recently, via a friend. Not that I needed proof; I always felt this friend would prevail, even if it wasn't in the exact way she had planned. But it's so much fun to watch her process unfold that it has inspired me.
More on all this later. For now I'm going to sit and admire the lack of PoS.
Not that anyone cares that much about my progress towards cleaner lines, reduction of excess, and the unburdening of the self, but I wanted it known that I can make it happen. (Ha! And you thought it was just about random paperwork and the like.) The reduced PoS lifestyle is only guaranteed for 48 hours though, because I know better. Stuff will enter my life and will be put into piles. Those piles will secretly mate in the night and will take over my space again. And someday I'll have the time, energy, desire, and recycling bins to eliminate them again. And that time will occur when I'm really avoiding getting back into an exercise routine (which was the other goal for this week).
I strive to be one of those people who can stay organized and live in what appears to be the Ikea catalog. (Despite the inventory in that store, it appears that one must purchase the furniture and never put any stuff on it. I admire that, I really do.) But this determination fades because I get bored and annoyed by picking up the same stuff over and over. It's just easier to let it pile until it threatens a coup.
Funny, I wasn't going to write much about the PoS reduction when I started. I just wanted a time stamp to prove I had a clean house at one point. I wanted to write about the Vision Board I'm starting and the fact I've become obsessed with a house that is on the market but is overpriced. If you are ever in the car with me, I will drive you there to show you what I now call my new house. The fact that we've made no offer to purchase is a minor detail easily overlooked. The fact that it may never be in our price range (though, it should, based on all market data), or that someone else will be willing to over pay are also easily overlooked details. I have faith it will be my house someday because the Universe proved itself to me recently, via a friend. Not that I needed proof; I always felt this friend would prevail, even if it wasn't in the exact way she had planned. But it's so much fun to watch her process unfold that it has inspired me.
More on all this later. For now I'm going to sit and admire the lack of PoS.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Restless.
I'm feeling restless and fidgety these days. Maybe it's early spring and the eagerness to leave winter behind. Maybe it's competing priorities~ the never-ending sense that there's something that needs to be done thus making it impossible to stay in any one moment. Maybe it's procrastination and guilt.
It's school vacation week. Instead of putting the kiddos in camp and working a regular week, I took the week off from work. And remember how I said what I wished for was a week off to clean my house, but who was I kidding because if I had a week off the last thing I'd do would be to clean? Well, I spent a large part of Saturday and Sunday cleaning. But I didn't get to any of my piles of things that I desperately need to declutter. The kids' rooms look fantastic. The bathrooms sparkle. The laundry is done and the seasonal "out with the fleece, in with the short sleeves" has happened. But I am still surrounded by energy-sucking PoS (piles of stuff).
But it is school vacation week and the kids aren't interested in my issues with clutter. In part, I want to do some really fun things so we create good memories and enjoy each other (read: so they are distracted enough not to fight). I don't want to waste the week away. Then again, we're all so busy with school, after school, work, activities, etc., the rest of the year that I think it's good for them to spend days in their pjs without any concern for a schedule. Doing fun things, heck, doing anything requires effort. And if we just hang around the house, the kids can watch tv while I declutter.
Yet I know that is a fantasy. Home with both kids means every 15 mins I'm interrupted in one way or another. Someone will want a snack. Someone will need help reaching something. There'll be fights to break up and time-outs to supervise. My frustration will grow because I'm not getting my goals accomplished. I'll be annoyed and angry at the kids and their fighting, which will quickly lead to guilt that they are fighting out of boredom.
A few minutes ago I asked them what they wanted to do today and the answer was simple~ take a picnic lunch to the local playground. Excellent. I have to make them lunch anyway! We'll go for a couple of hours, come home, they'll take baths (since the bathtub sparkles! and since it's been 4 days since anything but their hands and faces have seen soap and water), and then they'll want to "rest" in front of a dvd.
Maybe then I'll get to some of my piles to organize. But if not, at least one day of school vacation wasn't spent entirely in pjs, in case their teachers ask . . .
It's school vacation week. Instead of putting the kiddos in camp and working a regular week, I took the week off from work. And remember how I said what I wished for was a week off to clean my house, but who was I kidding because if I had a week off the last thing I'd do would be to clean? Well, I spent a large part of Saturday and Sunday cleaning. But I didn't get to any of my piles of things that I desperately need to declutter. The kids' rooms look fantastic. The bathrooms sparkle. The laundry is done and the seasonal "out with the fleece, in with the short sleeves" has happened. But I am still surrounded by energy-sucking PoS (piles of stuff).
But it is school vacation week and the kids aren't interested in my issues with clutter. In part, I want to do some really fun things so we create good memories and enjoy each other (read: so they are distracted enough not to fight). I don't want to waste the week away. Then again, we're all so busy with school, after school, work, activities, etc., the rest of the year that I think it's good for them to spend days in their pjs without any concern for a schedule. Doing fun things, heck, doing anything requires effort. And if we just hang around the house, the kids can watch tv while I declutter.
Yet I know that is a fantasy. Home with both kids means every 15 mins I'm interrupted in one way or another. Someone will want a snack. Someone will need help reaching something. There'll be fights to break up and time-outs to supervise. My frustration will grow because I'm not getting my goals accomplished. I'll be annoyed and angry at the kids and their fighting, which will quickly lead to guilt that they are fighting out of boredom.
A few minutes ago I asked them what they wanted to do today and the answer was simple~ take a picnic lunch to the local playground. Excellent. I have to make them lunch anyway! We'll go for a couple of hours, come home, they'll take baths (since the bathtub sparkles! and since it's been 4 days since anything but their hands and faces have seen soap and water), and then they'll want to "rest" in front of a dvd.
Maybe then I'll get to some of my piles to organize. But if not, at least one day of school vacation wasn't spent entirely in pjs, in case their teachers ask . . .
Friday, April 16, 2010
And away we go.
I applied for a job today. It's a five week, part time, 80 hours for $2,400 job, but it feels like the start of something bigger. It's a baby leap, if there is such a thing. It won't require me to resign from the other two jobs I have. (Despite desperately wanting to run screaming from one of them, I'm not ready to leave the security it provides.)
But it's not so much the job itself that is the baby leap. It's the fact I saw the posting at 1pm and by 3:30 had written my cover letter, revised my resume, uploaded my licensure/certification info and letters of recommendation (which are two years old and I didn't bother to reread), and completed and submitted the online application. I didn't dwell. I didn't agonize. I just did. No hesitation, no weighing pros vs. cons, no tiny tug of dread at the process.
So why was this different? Two weeks ago I saw a similar posting for a permanent job in my field about 30-40 mins away, close to the town where I grew up. I had an initial jolt of excitement when I saw it, and immediately contacted a friend in the town to ask if she could help me get some info. She used some of her contacts, netting minimal info I coudn't get on my own. The deadline was today--and by that the application and supporting materials needed to arrive to the HR office by today. I still haven't applied.
I had a lot of conversations with myself about doing that application. It was on my daily to do list, I had the mail-by date circled in my planner. But even though I'm wicked persuasive, I couldn't talk myself out of watching reruns and into working on the application. So I figured I didn't really want that type of job because when I do want something, I go for it. Usually.
Maybe it was because Job #1 would have been a bigger risk because it is permanent (for a year, pending contract renewal and budgets), and would have required other bigger changes in my life. Job #2 is temporary, so even if I hate it I only have to survive for 80 hours. But deep down I have this feeling that it's more than feeling safe. It felt right, like it was meant to be. Of course there's no guarantee I'll get it or even be considered. But then just a little while ago I was reading meeting minutes and saw an announcement of a retirement. I realized part of what held me back from applying to Job #1 was the vision I have of myself doing the same work in another location--the very location a retirement has just been announced. That is the truth I haven't been accepting until I found myself applying to Job #2 without a second thought. And Job #2 could very well lead into the position vacated by the retirement.
I might just get what I really want after all.
Now to work on imagining myself in the house I want.
Away we go.
But it's not so much the job itself that is the baby leap. It's the fact I saw the posting at 1pm and by 3:30 had written my cover letter, revised my resume, uploaded my licensure/certification info and letters of recommendation (which are two years old and I didn't bother to reread), and completed and submitted the online application. I didn't dwell. I didn't agonize. I just did. No hesitation, no weighing pros vs. cons, no tiny tug of dread at the process.
So why was this different? Two weeks ago I saw a similar posting for a permanent job in my field about 30-40 mins away, close to the town where I grew up. I had an initial jolt of excitement when I saw it, and immediately contacted a friend in the town to ask if she could help me get some info. She used some of her contacts, netting minimal info I coudn't get on my own. The deadline was today--and by that the application and supporting materials needed to arrive to the HR office by today. I still haven't applied.
I had a lot of conversations with myself about doing that application. It was on my daily to do list, I had the mail-by date circled in my planner. But even though I'm wicked persuasive, I couldn't talk myself out of watching reruns and into working on the application. So I figured I didn't really want that type of job because when I do want something, I go for it. Usually.
Maybe it was because Job #1 would have been a bigger risk because it is permanent (for a year, pending contract renewal and budgets), and would have required other bigger changes in my life. Job #2 is temporary, so even if I hate it I only have to survive for 80 hours. But deep down I have this feeling that it's more than feeling safe. It felt right, like it was meant to be. Of course there's no guarantee I'll get it or even be considered. But then just a little while ago I was reading meeting minutes and saw an announcement of a retirement. I realized part of what held me back from applying to Job #1 was the vision I have of myself doing the same work in another location--the very location a retirement has just been announced. That is the truth I haven't been accepting until I found myself applying to Job #2 without a second thought. And Job #2 could very well lead into the position vacated by the retirement.
I might just get what I really want after all.
Now to work on imagining myself in the house I want.
Away we go.
Friday, April 2, 2010
A Good Day for Karma
It's Good Friday, which meant an extensive conversation with my eight year old last night about why there's no school today. I honestly don't get it, either, considering the whole separation of church and state thing. I mean, I get why Good Friday is one of the most important days in the Christian calendar. And I suppose in communities where most of the students and faculty would take it off as a religious holiday it is more cost effective to close the schools, but that's not necessarily the case where we live.
But that's not why I'm writing. Although both my spouse and I were raised Episcopalian, neither of us are church goers now (other than Christmas and Easter, out of respect for my parents, with whom we attend church). The reasons are long and complex, ranging from Sunday being on the only morning we don't have to rush out the door somewhere so we're loathe to give that up, to not being really sure of what we want out of organized religion. But again, that's a whole other post that I'm not sure I'll ever be too interested in writing.
My conversation with my child focused on why Good Friday was important to those who believed in what Good Friday meant. We talked about the Easter story, the Bible, the man known as Jesus for whom many consider a savior.
But we also talked about the idea of interconnectedness; how each living being has an energy (some call this a spirit or a soul), and how all those energies influence all the others. Some call the keeper of this energy God. Some call it the Great Spirit. Some call it Karma. Being eight, and thus deeply concerned about justice and fairness, she really liked Karma. We've talked about it before in the "don't pick on your brother because putting that sort of vibe out there only invites reciprocity" (and yes, I use words like reciprocity with my eight year old because that's how she'll learn them), but this was different. This conversation was more about spring, rebirth, renewal, and how Good Friday is a reminder that we all embody a power that should be directed into a life that seeks goodness and kindness and all the other virtues that strengthen the greater spirit that connects us all.
It helps that today is warm and sunny after a March of record rainfall and unprecedented local flooding. And it really helped to walk out of my house to see a ticket on the car parked illegally on my street for a week, in my spot, even after the owner sweetly promised he'd only be there a day and would move and understood that there was designated parking. I had all sorts of mean thoughts every time I saw that car. I wanted to let the air out of the tires. I wanted to bribe a towing service to take the car away. I wanted to get the neighbors to park bumper to bumper so that car had no hope of getting out of the spot even when it wanted to. But ultimately, that's not the kind of person I want to be in the world. So I bitched about it. I visualized the house I want to move to that has a driveway. I let it be.
And Karma took over. Good Friday, indeed.
But that's not why I'm writing. Although both my spouse and I were raised Episcopalian, neither of us are church goers now (other than Christmas and Easter, out of respect for my parents, with whom we attend church). The reasons are long and complex, ranging from Sunday being on the only morning we don't have to rush out the door somewhere so we're loathe to give that up, to not being really sure of what we want out of organized religion. But again, that's a whole other post that I'm not sure I'll ever be too interested in writing.
My conversation with my child focused on why Good Friday was important to those who believed in what Good Friday meant. We talked about the Easter story, the Bible, the man known as Jesus for whom many consider a savior.
But we also talked about the idea of interconnectedness; how each living being has an energy (some call this a spirit or a soul), and how all those energies influence all the others. Some call the keeper of this energy God. Some call it the Great Spirit. Some call it Karma. Being eight, and thus deeply concerned about justice and fairness, she really liked Karma. We've talked about it before in the "don't pick on your brother because putting that sort of vibe out there only invites reciprocity" (and yes, I use words like reciprocity with my eight year old because that's how she'll learn them), but this was different. This conversation was more about spring, rebirth, renewal, and how Good Friday is a reminder that we all embody a power that should be directed into a life that seeks goodness and kindness and all the other virtues that strengthen the greater spirit that connects us all.
It helps that today is warm and sunny after a March of record rainfall and unprecedented local flooding. And it really helped to walk out of my house to see a ticket on the car parked illegally on my street for a week, in my spot, even after the owner sweetly promised he'd only be there a day and would move and understood that there was designated parking. I had all sorts of mean thoughts every time I saw that car. I wanted to let the air out of the tires. I wanted to bribe a towing service to take the car away. I wanted to get the neighbors to park bumper to bumper so that car had no hope of getting out of the spot even when it wanted to. But ultimately, that's not the kind of person I want to be in the world. So I bitched about it. I visualized the house I want to move to that has a driveway. I let it be.
And Karma took over. Good Friday, indeed.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
In desperate need of spring cleaning
I am buried. Surrounded by stuff. I want, more than anything, a decluttered life, and yet I can’t keep ahead of the piles. Piles of papers. Piles of school work (kids’). Piles of books (mine). Piles of paperwork (mine). Piles of toys (kids). Piles of to-do’s on piles of lists (mine).
I’ve given some serious thought to just throwing everything away (or recycling) and living with the consequences. A test to see if I really needed it in the first place. But I look under the surface and immediately know why and when I’ll need it. And most of the time, the reason is legit. And then the pile that can be excused is too small to qualify as true decluttering and the whole exercise seems futile.
But it needs to go. It’s in my way. It’s a physical and mental block. I’ve read that 15 minutes a day can lead to clutter free life, but I don’t do anything in 15 minutes. I’m thorough. I like to jump in the deep end and work until I, or the project, is exhausted. I dream of having a whole week off from work, alone, to methodically go through the whole house. Since that’s not likely to happen (because I mean, really, if I had a whole week off to myself would I really spend it cleaning?). I need to break it down. But there’s always something else to do. Something that either is more important or that I convince myself to be as important (see earlier posts about how persuasive I am). Plus, 15 minutes a day doesn’t put enough of a dent in the grand total. New piles sprout in, like, 12 minutes. I haven’t timed it, but I’m pretty sure the Universe seeks balance by replacing one clean surface with a deeper pile somewhere else in my house.
How do people do it? How do people let go of the stuff and not think back “gee, I wish I still had that?” Or, if they do have those wistful thoughts of longing for past crap, how do they get over it instead of kicking themselves for letting go of it in the first place? I don’t want it. I want the space more than I want the stuff. But I fear wishing I had it still. I fear making a mistake and tossing something that later proves to have been an instrumental part of my past that I’ll forever regret removing from my life. I know it sounds dramatic, but it’s my truth. I need to find a way to have the memories without the stuff (and if you say make a scrapbook, I will find you and throw my piles of scrapbook stuff at you).
I’ve given some serious thought to just throwing everything away (or recycling) and living with the consequences. A test to see if I really needed it in the first place. But I look under the surface and immediately know why and when I’ll need it. And most of the time, the reason is legit. And then the pile that can be excused is too small to qualify as true decluttering and the whole exercise seems futile.
But it needs to go. It’s in my way. It’s a physical and mental block. I’ve read that 15 minutes a day can lead to clutter free life, but I don’t do anything in 15 minutes. I’m thorough. I like to jump in the deep end and work until I, or the project, is exhausted. I dream of having a whole week off from work, alone, to methodically go through the whole house. Since that’s not likely to happen (because I mean, really, if I had a whole week off to myself would I really spend it cleaning?). I need to break it down. But there’s always something else to do. Something that either is more important or that I convince myself to be as important (see earlier posts about how persuasive I am). Plus, 15 minutes a day doesn’t put enough of a dent in the grand total. New piles sprout in, like, 12 minutes. I haven’t timed it, but I’m pretty sure the Universe seeks balance by replacing one clean surface with a deeper pile somewhere else in my house.
How do people do it? How do people let go of the stuff and not think back “gee, I wish I still had that?” Or, if they do have those wistful thoughts of longing for past crap, how do they get over it instead of kicking themselves for letting go of it in the first place? I don’t want it. I want the space more than I want the stuff. But I fear wishing I had it still. I fear making a mistake and tossing something that later proves to have been an instrumental part of my past that I’ll forever regret removing from my life. I know it sounds dramatic, but it’s my truth. I need to find a way to have the memories without the stuff (and if you say make a scrapbook, I will find you and throw my piles of scrapbook stuff at you).
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Come out, come out, wherever you are: A call to Passion.
I wonder how many other people walk around with a sense they are supposed to accomplish something bigger and better than what they are currently doing.
Because I do. And yet I know it’s all relative. I do a lot. I accomplish a lot. And thinking I always need to top myself is a challenge, but one that I adore (usually). The times it’s too much pressure I list of all I have done up to this point and I feel better.
So many people seem content, or at least clear about what drives them forward. These people talk about finding their passion. These people proclaim that when do you do what you love, it doesn’t seem like work. I am fascinated by these people and want to ask them how they and their passion met. Did they always know? Was it happenstance? Was it truly something they couldn’t turn away from, or was it a series of conveniences they decided to accept as passion?
Are these the same people that believe in love at first sight?
Because I don’t. I believe in attraction at first sight, or interest at first sight. I believe there can be an instant connection with another person. But true love, for me, lives in the intersection of right time, right place, and right person. A true love ménage a trios, in the spiritual sense.
And true love takes work to keep it true and to keep it love. It doesn’t just happen. This brings me back to passion. The nature of passion seems to be that all-consuming, sweep-you-off-your-feet, make-it-impossible-to-consider-any-alternative, type of experience. Passion announces itself. That idea of passion feels like “love at first sight.” If I don’t believe in love at first sight, can I believe in a passion that doesn’t appear as something I automatically know to be “the one?” Can passion be quiet and unassuming and gently push you forward, step by step? Or is it something other than passion if that’s what it is?
Does passion declare itself to me, or do I declare something to be my passion? And if it is the latter, how do I choose? I can talk myself into being passionate about the idea du jour. But I get bored easily, which makes me feel like it was faux passion.
I am completely ready to follow my passion and accomplish great things; I just need help figuring out which of my thoughts, ideas, and interests is my true passion. I know once I do there’ll be no stopping me. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice because the ideas not taken might feel left out and seek revenge.
Monday, March 8, 2010
What do I want to be when I grow up?
Yay, I have followers! Feel free to tell your friends.
When I was a senior in high school, my English class was part American Literature and part “let’s explore who we are in the world.” I’m sure there was an official curricular title to that, but all I remember is choreographing a modern dance routine with a friend (she danced, I advised), and giving a presentation on right brain vs. left brain thinking. I went to a competitive high school and by that point in the year we’d all been accepted to college so it was probably a way to give us a break. Or maybe it was to torture our privileged selves so that we’d have something angst-ish to write about. Heeeeyy---lookie here! I am writing about it now, 21 years later . . . I guess this means they win.
Off and on I’ve looked for the level of truth in that to help me figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. I was not ready then to explore who I was in the world. Which is the whole point of high school, isn’t it? Back then I could just Be. But that class put the idea into my head that I was supposed to Be Something In the World. It just didn’t tell me how or what or where to look. Or how I would know when I found it.
I blame my resentment on the right brain vs. left brain theories. Every time I take any of those learning or work style tests (traditional right brain/left brain, Myers Briggs, etc.), I always test exactly in the middle. If there’s an axis, I’m as close to the cross point as the standard deviation allows. I think this means I am creative within clearly understood boundaries or I organize with a flourish. It means I can’t leave anything behind. Instead of not committing to anything, I want to do everything. And that gets tiring.
It also means I'm a highly competitive person tempered with enough insecurity to avoid outright competition with anyone but my own brain. I feel the tug of right brain creativity and left brain analysis on a regular basis. When I try to be free-flowing or follow my passion, I get lost (because free-flowing means no clear direction) or mired in the technicalities (because I whatever I do, I have to do it the right way). But when I make the smart, practical, left-brained decisions, I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Up until now I feel like I’ve just been lucky—my life is good despite my lack of commitment to any one direction. I wonder just how amazing could I be if I just picked something to focus all my attention upon? (And the other side of that is “but what if I pick the wrong thing and I’m still great [of course], but I could have been even better if I picked the other thing.”)
I went to graduate school for 5 years (and I feel the need to add “part-time while working full-time, raising a toddler, and I had another baby in there, too” to make it clear that it took 5 years because I was ALSO doing, not ONLY doing). All along I was telling everyone what I would be when I grew up because that was the point of going to school in the first place. Two years out, I see job postings for that career and pray there’s something about it that makes it clearly the Wrong Job for Me. I just can’t admit I don’t want to be that anymore. I try to see it as another step on the journey. And I try to be ok with that now because years ago a friend helped me be ok with a different focus shift by pointing out if I was miserable on the journey, maybe the destination was wrong.
I mostly enjoy the journey, but I envy people who enjoy the journey, get to their stated destination, and stay there long enough to see what else can happen.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Because I feel like someone could be waiting . . .
It's a bit ridiculous, really, since I've only told 4 people about this blog. But I hate waiting too long between entries on blogs I read, so I'm feeling guilty that I've done nothing since that first day.
And maybe those 4 people have told friends who told their friends and I'm an overnight Internet sensation and don't even know it. Yeah, you're right. Not likely. (Though a tiny little bit of me, the same tiny bit that is always convinced I'll win the lottery when I buy a ticket, thinks maybe it could be true. I guess that's the delusional bit. Oh well, we all need one. And some of us count on it existing in order to make a living.)
I have been thinking a lot about levels of truth. I'm pretty sure it's another way of saying balance. (See, I told you I was smart.) The Universe seeks balance, and this is why change is so hard. It's not that the Universe fights us, it's that sometimes it takes a while for the Universe to figure out how to replace what we've given up. I'm definitely out of balance these days. I'm overtired and continually sabotage my own health and well-being. I choose chocolate over carrots, stay up for Letterman even though I fall asleep while reading to my kids at bedtime, and watch crap TV reruns instead of reading any of the dozens of books and magazines piled by my bed. Ones that I want to read. I keep telling myself I'll give up television completely and read for 1 hour a night and go to sleep an hour earlier than usual. I like that plan. I want that plan.
But the only person stopping me is me. And damn, I'm wicked persuasive.
So my question is--which one of you is eating all the carrots and getting all the sleep so that the Universe is holding out on me? ;-)
This has been an odd week for me and it's only Wednesday. I've had 4 clients leave my practice in 3 days. In one case I worry that I the level of truth I offered was not acceptable. I was in my element: all expert-y and cited data and well thought-out plans of action. Their response? To move out of state. Literally. They're headed north and announced at our last meeting it would be our last forever. Okay, then. There we go. Lesson learned--shut up more and find another way to flex my knowledge muscles. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the right thing at the right time but their Universe didn’t know how to let it in.
I know not to take it personally, and 80% I don't. But 10% I do and feel sad that I wasn't what they needed at this time in their life. The other 10% says f*** 'em, they can't do better and they'll figure that out at some point. A good friend of mine has a close & release ritual she does at the end of every phase of working with a group of people. I always admired it, and now I think I need one. One or 2 or 3 here and there I can let them go on their own. But there's a group now, and I need to not have them be The Proof That I Might Not Be As Good As I Think I Am.
90 minutes until Letterman.
And maybe those 4 people have told friends who told their friends and I'm an overnight Internet sensation and don't even know it. Yeah, you're right. Not likely. (Though a tiny little bit of me, the same tiny bit that is always convinced I'll win the lottery when I buy a ticket, thinks maybe it could be true. I guess that's the delusional bit. Oh well, we all need one. And some of us count on it existing in order to make a living.)
I have been thinking a lot about levels of truth. I'm pretty sure it's another way of saying balance. (See, I told you I was smart.) The Universe seeks balance, and this is why change is so hard. It's not that the Universe fights us, it's that sometimes it takes a while for the Universe to figure out how to replace what we've given up. I'm definitely out of balance these days. I'm overtired and continually sabotage my own health and well-being. I choose chocolate over carrots, stay up for Letterman even though I fall asleep while reading to my kids at bedtime, and watch crap TV reruns instead of reading any of the dozens of books and magazines piled by my bed. Ones that I want to read. I keep telling myself I'll give up television completely and read for 1 hour a night and go to sleep an hour earlier than usual. I like that plan. I want that plan.
But the only person stopping me is me. And damn, I'm wicked persuasive.
So my question is--which one of you is eating all the carrots and getting all the sleep so that the Universe is holding out on me? ;-)
This has been an odd week for me and it's only Wednesday. I've had 4 clients leave my practice in 3 days. In one case I worry that I the level of truth I offered was not acceptable. I was in my element: all expert-y and cited data and well thought-out plans of action. Their response? To move out of state. Literally. They're headed north and announced at our last meeting it would be our last forever. Okay, then. There we go. Lesson learned--shut up more and find another way to flex my knowledge muscles. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the right thing at the right time but their Universe didn’t know how to let it in.
I know not to take it personally, and 80% I don't. But 10% I do and feel sad that I wasn't what they needed at this time in their life. The other 10% says f*** 'em, they can't do better and they'll figure that out at some point. A good friend of mine has a close & release ritual she does at the end of every phase of working with a group of people. I always admired it, and now I think I need one. One or 2 or 3 here and there I can let them go on their own. But there's a group now, and I need to not have them be The Proof That I Might Not Be As Good As I Think I Am.
90 minutes until Letterman.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Explanation attempt #1 (because I'm sure there will be others later).
Why "An Acceptable Level of Truth?"
For years I've resisted the blog world for all the typical reasons:
Everyone else was doing it and I don't like to be a sheep.
"Writer" has never been part of my stated identity. (Although I have my Oprah interview all planned out for when she adds my book to her list. No, there is no book and there are no real plans to write one. And yes, I know she's retiring.)
If I'm going to do something, I want to know that I'll be good at it. (And by good I mean mind-blowing awesome). Blogging is new for me, which means I'm untested and I could suck. That's just not ok with me.
What would *I* write about? While I think I'm endlessly fascinating, not blogging allows me to keep that belief. I have a strong network of friends that also think I'm fascinating and wonderful (and the feeling is mutual). I can tell them my stories and know they are heard with love and support. I do not keep a journal. If I'm going to blog, the point is to have it read by others. The Internet World can be mean. I don't like mean.
I read a fair number of blogs. Most of them I adore and so I feel there's nothing for me to add. But they are also inspiring and make me want to join them. And then some of them are not so awesome--poorly written, awkward in style, obvious attempts to model some well-known blogs. And I fear that my blog will be one of those.
I already do way too many things in any given day. If I started blogging and loved it, it would become a way to procrastinate and my pile of obligations would get even deeper. Or, I'd be one of those inconsistent bloggers and never have any followers because people would be annoyed. I get irrationally angry with bloggers who let too much time pass between entries. Maybe that's just me and the rest of the world can accept it for what it is. But the Internet is still mean and I don't like the idea of someone out there being irrationally angry with me. I don't know if I'm ready for the commitment.
Ok, so I know none of these reasons are original and I dread writing in cliché. So let me put this out there--I KNOW. But I needed to get it out of my mental space because despite the reasons, here I am.
So what changed?
Months and months and months ago I was listening to public radio. During the interview, one of the guests off-handedly used the phrase "acceptable level of truth." It stuck with me as an amazing title for something. I also realized that I live in that space--finding, giving, holding to something between 100% honesty and not saying a word. And I don't mean lying--- I mean letting the other person in the equation have or discover enough information to live his or her own life in a way that needs to happen. (Warning--self indulgence coming up.) I am very smart and well-read. I'm not saying I'm the smartest person in the whole wide world, but I am good at what I do and I know what I am talking about. I've worked hard for years to build expertise. But I often know more than is necessary to tell the other person. If I unleash all that I know I come off as arrogant and unapproachable and intimidating, which is disastrous for my work (not to mention for my other relationships).
But I struggled--if I knew something that could be helpful, shouldn't I share it? I love being buried in knowledge and conflicting theories (it's a good excuse to buy another book!). Apparently, this is not normal. In fact, it is less than normal. So, by holding back, by offering information in small pieces, I was finding the acceptable level of truth.
Finding the "good enough" and the "acceptable level of truth" makes it possible get through my day because it allows me to give less than my version of 100% in every moment. The reasons differ; in my parenting life it's about what kids really need to know vs. "because I said so." In my professional lives (yes, I have more than one and no, it's not because I think I'm two people), I'm either finding a way to get people with higher status to do what I need them to do without them knowing it was my idea or I'm working with people not able to make their own decisions just yet for various reasons. But I'm also helping these people realize it's ok to hold back sometimes, and it's ok to tell everything sometimes. It's finding An Acceptable Level of Truth that works for the person and the situation.
So that's why I'm here. I can't promise I'll be back soon, but I hope that I will.
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