Life Coach: Spirit, Body and Mind » Christmas

Musings: The Discomfort of Personal Growth

Margo — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 16:49:58 +0000

I actually started writing the following three paragraphs in the middle of the last posting that I wrote. However, I quickly realized that they did not belong there so, rather than delete them, I saved them as a draft. I figured that if the words had manifest themselves on the page they were important to come back to. Here are the three paragraphs as I wrote them.

As I have been sitting here, stopping from time time to just breath in deeply, I have been checking the news on my info page. I guess the biggest item that has rocked the world in different ways is still the news coming out of Haiti. I have followed this story, as I’m sure many millions of other people have, and have come to realize how difficult it is to take in the reality of such a situation.

No matter how many photos they print, and there have been hundreds, even though they depict the grim reality of the circumstances it is hard to make it a reality in my own life. Story after story carries an underlying sadness, pain, and desperation. It is heartbreaking to think of the level of suffering and helplessness that overwhelms the surviving Haitian population in the aftermath of the earthquake.

Yet even as I understand the meaning behind the words in these stories, and even as I can see clearly what is depicted in all the photos, there is a part of me that is unable to truly comprehend the magnitude of this tragedy. I went through something similar after the tsunami out in Thailand and Indonesia at Christmas a couple of years ago.

So now I will try to pick up the thread of my thought process a week after writing this. As I said, at the time I was sitting outside in my lanai on the first really warm day after much freezing cold weather had not allowed me to take my lap-top outside and work. I have just reread the three paragraphs and remember now sitting out there in the warmth and sunshine, catching up on world-wide news and feeling so strangely detached from the horrors taking place in Haiti.

I am not sure why this is so. I try to practice compassion in a very real way on a daily basis. I am a Christian person who “loves his neighbor”. I am also an intelligent person, so it’s not that I don’t have the brains or the smarts to grasp what is going on over there in Haiti. Neither am I afflicted by learning disabilities that slow my thought processes or skew them somehow.

I have read on numerous occasions that we, the human race, have been so saturated with violence in today’s world that events such as those taking place in Haiti don’t reach down into our hearts, our guts, or they only get halfway there. Modern media thinks nothing of throwing blood, gore, and downright evil at us in the name of “action movies” and the like, and as a result we become inured to the real life stuff.

As I said above, I see the pictures, I read the stories, the facts, but I have a hard time bringing it all into my own perception of reality. I’m not sure where I want to go with all this, or if I need to go anywhere in particular. Of one thing I am sure, the words presented themselves on the page out of my mind so they must have some specific significance.

I know that I do not feel very happy or comfortable about this posting. It has come out in fits and starts, between one interruption and another. Half way through I found myself thinking, “maybe I should just delete it and start a totally new posting”. But there is a part of me that knows the words need to stay on the page.

Perhaps the discomfort that I am feeling is because this article makes me look at a part of me that is not so nice. That part that wants me to just stay in my comfort zone and get on with my ordinary life. After all, don’t I deal with enough of my own pain without taking on the pain of others? But I know that I cannot do that. If I do, I will experience even more discomfort.

So the words stay, the article stands as is, and I battle on through the stuff that maybe I would prefer to ignore. I ask God to help me find the growth that this is leading me to. Hopefully there will be a quantum leap in my spiritual growth, in my prayer practice. Maybe a little more honesty, another small slice of humility, and just a smidgen more courage to keep me on track.

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Musings: Prisoner of the Cold

Margo — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 01:19:18 +0000

The thermometer that is incorporated into the clock located on the wall in my lanai has not registered higher than 44 degrees Fahrenheit at about 7.30am for the past week. This morning it indicated 34 degrees Fahrenheit at 8.35am. It has not climbed above 58 degrees Fahrenheit in the past seven days at any time of the day!

The corner of the lanai where the clock is located is the most sheltered and the warmest spot in my garden. It is protected from wind chill and receives sun for the better part of the day. Now that the lanai has been built it is even more protected from the elements. And it is “bloody cold out there” as my true Brit self would say. And I know that it is even colder out in the open, more exposed garden.

I am not a happy camper. I feel like a prisoner to the cold. Today especially the sun was shining and it looked glorious outside. The sky was blue and everything was in clear and sharp focus – including the frost that sparkled like diamonds on the house immediately across the street from mine!!

I have waited patiently for the number to go higher. I have waited patiently not to feel the immediate chill when I slide open the lanai door. It feels just like standing in front of an open freezer door. I have waited patiently to be able to go out to my sanctuary, lap top in hand, to invite the Muse out to play.

I can wait no longer. So I have dragged a small table over and placed it right in front of the sliding door that looks into my lanai and I have set up the lap top so that I can at least see out into the garden via the lanai. It’s not quite the same; the fresh air, the usual Florida warmth, and the songs of the birds are missing. I don’t feel the usual joy in my heart, but it’s better than succumbing any longer to this sense of total imprisonment.

It’s not that I cannot or have not been outside the house this week. I am not a wimp and I do carry some memory in my bones of dealing with a cold English winter. In fact a few days ago I received an email from an old school chum who reminded me of the previous “worst English winter” that we all experienced as students returning to our various colleges and universities in January 1963.

The college that I attended, Coloma Teacher Training College, was set in a very rural area (read “out in the sticks”, or perhaps here in America you say “out in the boon docks”), south of London. It was located a couple of miles outside a very small village called West Wycombe. We were so isolated that the local villagers thought we were a college full of unwed mothers or mentally handicapped women. Being typical college students, we made sure our behaviour did nothing to change their minds. Many was the evening that, bolstered by a drink or two and with pillows stuffed under our coats, we would carousel through the village singing slightly “naughty” songs.

Other evenings would find us trudging down to the village store with the hoods of our duffel coats up over our heads. Like most female (and male) students in those days we all had long long hair and we would comb it forward over our faces. We limped along, one foot in the gutter, the other on the curb, muttering indecipherable words and stopping suddenly to peer through our hair at people we passed. We thought we were being very risque’ and very avant garde. (It was cool to think in French phrases in those days.)

But that winter was quite spectacular. I remember returning after the Christmas holidays, getting off the bus (I lived outside the college with a college-picked family), walking through the village and thinking how picturesque it all seemed with the flurries of snow swirling all around me. I walked out the other end of the village and turned the corner to cross the recreation fields that separated the village from the college.

I clearly remember stopping in my tracks, jaw dropped, and not sure quite what to think. It suddenly seemed as though I was at the North Pole as a vast expanse of pure white opened up in front of me. The falling snow was thick enough that I couldn’t see to the other side of the field. There was not another soul in sight.

I stood there for a few moments just taking in the whole God-beauty of the scene. I was well dressed for the weather and had on a pair of knee high boots. When I took my first step out into the field I sank into soft snow so deep it came over, and into, the top of my boots. I think I took maybe three or four more steps before I realized this was not a very wise thing to do, and jumped back quickly onto the pavement, all the time aware of the icy cold that was surrounding my feet.

I tramped back a hundred yards to a small cafe and sat down to empty out the snow from my boots. My feet were soaking and freezing cold. I looked up at the woman who owned the cafe and to whom we had been very risque and avant garde on several occasions. I guess she overlooked my past transgressions and took pity on me because she handed me a dry tea towel.

These were not the days of cell phones. She allowed me to use the telephone in the cafe to call the college, and I found out that they had not been able to telephone all the out-students in time to warn them not to attempt to come into college. Grimly I made my way home with very cold feet.

The snow lasted well into March that year. We were all sick and tired of it by the time the last little mounds had disappeared from the sides of the road. I spoke to my sister in London two days ago and she too remembered that winter. She confirmed that the snow at the moment is very reminiscent of back then. Let’s hope for their sake that it doesn’t last so long.

Well, I have beaten the cold and done my writing. The Muse was fairly happy at playing indoors because she could at least see the outdoors. But I will be much happier when the temperatures rise a little and I don’t feel so hunched up in my body and my soul. Warmth has a liberating effect in both areas.

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Musings: Giving Joy To My Inner Child

Margo — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 13:00:00 +0000

I am not in the least bit embarrassed to admit that I acknowledge my inner child and frequently allow her to come out and play!! I love blowing bubbles and reading fairy stories. I often watch the movies The Secret Garden, The Chronicles of Narnia, Fairy Tale – A True Story, and The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns.

When I watched the first Harry Potter movie I fell in love with the scene where the character Hagrid takes Harry to buy his first magic supplies. As they walked through that brick wall into Diagon Alley, I SO wanted to be able to go there, or at least someplace like it. I want to own a bag of fairy dust, and it takes all my willpower not to get in line to go into Santa land in the Mall at Christmas:-).

So last night as we prepared to say goodbye to 2009 I found myself with my husband in St. Augustine, Florida. To be more precise we were on Anastasia Island. (Just the name Anastasia gets me tingling with excitement as I remember the Disney movie of that name. Uh-ho, did I mention Disney……….!!) I walked with childlike anticipation to the pier where they were holding a New Year event.

Christmas lights lit up the whole area and I had to push my hands deep in my pockets because I so wanted to clap in delight and do pirouettes. There were lots of food stalls, but there were also various stalls that sold all those magical flashing light things that kids so love. I desperately wanted a pair of pink and violet flashing bunny ears and at least two or three of those tubular necklaces with the running flashing lights inside them!

I managed to contain myself by watching all the kids have fun with their “stuff” and living my childlike dreams vicariously through them. After walking around some, Rich and I went over to the boardwalk and staked out our spot for the firework display. As if to add to the magic of the evening a “blue moon” tried hard to show itself from behind a dense cloud cover.

As 8.30pm rolled around I could feel the butterflies in my stomach just dancing all over the place. Suddenly the big lights were dimmed and almost immediately with a flash and a bang the show began. Nothing and no one stopped me from clapping in delight now. The sky lit up with golden rain, purple, pink, and green flashes, rockets racing high up into the sky and exploding into huge, bright orbs of multi colors.

I know my eyes were wide, my mouth was open. I was caught up in the sheer magic of the moment. It was as though the hand of some gigantic goddess was splashing glittering paint across the sky and I was mesmerized! In some day-bright moments the sea could be seen roiling on the rocks below us, and we heard the sizzling of the foam as the waves crashed over each other creating an orchestrated accompaniment to the dazzling show above.

All too soon it was over. The sky turned dark once more and the sea was just a murky movement below us. The crowds dispersed and all that was left of the glorious light display was the acrid smell of sulfur that hung in the air. But my little girl went home very, very happy. And if I want to relive the moment I can always watch the great video that Richard made of the whole show!

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Musings: A Christmas Story

Margo — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 21:26:39 +0000

I could begin this posting with an explanation of why I have not written in a while. I could easily say that it’s because I have been so busy with all the Christmas activities that we tend to get ourselves involved in at this time of the year. But I have specifically worked at not getting too tangled up in the “Christmas crazies”.

I have learned not to leave gift shopping to the last minute. I actually “Christmas shop” throughout the year. As I visit different places I try to find interesting items for special friends or family members. Sometimes I’ll see something really unusual and I’ll grab it knowing that it will make a wonderful gift for someone, whether it be Christmas or Birthday.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the sights and sounds of Christmas around the shopping areas. I love Christmas – the lights, the songs, and those special smells that seem to surround this particular season. But I’m not frantically running around looking for that perfect gift for everyone on a long list. I do still have one or two items that I want to get but, in one case, I know exactly what to get and where to get it, and in the other case, I know the right thing will pop up when it’s ready to reveal itself.

I haven’t been to a slew of parties nor do I have a bunch to go to between now and Christmas Day. I’m not stressing out about the Christmas dinner. I know we will do a “traditional” meal, turkey with all the trimmings, although it will be a little bit different because we love to deep fry the turkey. (For those of you who have never tried it, believe me it is delicious and not in the least bit greasy!!)

One Christmas project that does take up a lot of my time and energy is “my Christmas card list”. In my previous posting The Muse Has Been Gone – Again!, I mentioned that I have many people in my address book, family and friends that I have made over twenty five years of being attached to the military life.

I am also a creative person and I try to make many of my own cards. So from the beginning of November my craft room turns into a Santa Workshop with colored card stock, embellishments, ink pads galore, and stamps strewn haphazardly all over the place. (I know where everything is!) Many of the cards are simply signed “With Love and Blessings” and our names – a token sign of friendship and memories shared. But many require a longer note and a few are filled to the brim with news. So I have been writing – quite a lot – just in a different way.

However, I think I need to admit here that I have been avoiding the computer and the writing of postings. I didn’t set out purposely to do this. I am simply acknowledging right now that I think at some deep level that’s what I’ve been doing. I have also been putting a lot of energy into staying positive, and when that kind of energy is being used it’s difficult to have much left for creatively writing.

Why have I been avoiding the computer? Because when I write, my feelings come out (you may have noticed that if you read my postings regularly), and I guess I just wasn’t ready to do that because it might have been a great big “BLEAH” of stuff and I don’t like visiting that on an unsuspecting audience. So in the last few days I have had the opportunity to talk some of the feelings out and to pray about them A LOT! And here’s what I have discovered.

I am tremendously sad deep in my heart because Christmas is a time for celebrating “family style”. I’m talking about extended family. All my childhood Christmas memories are of the family coming together: aunties, uncles, and cousins. People were all over the place, and the kids ran around. Bits of wrapping paper were stuffed under chairs, music played, and there was a never-ending supply of food and drink. It was warm, and comforting and such fun.

Well, the extended family is thousands of miles away. Even my husband’s family is pretty long distance here in the States. At Christmas I always invite people to the house who are alone or who also have far-flung family and we do have good times. But it just isn’t quite the same. Perhaps it would be truer to say that it’s great and the fellowship and socializing is really good, but I still miss my family.

They always say to “leave the best for last”. In this case it is the “most difficult for last”. The biggest sadness that fills my heart right now is the estrangement from my beloved daughter. (And here come the tears; there have been many bucketfuls of late.) Because of the lifestyle she chooses to live I do not even know if we shall see her over Christmas, and this breaks my heart. She lives close by and yet it seems that an ocean divides us.

My Christmas prayer (which is my everyday prayer) is that God will bless and protect her and guide her to right choices. And this is a prayer that I offer for everyone who may need it at this time of the year.

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Musing: The Muse Has Been Gone – Again!

Margo — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 19:03:36 +0000

So I have been in a Muse-less slump again. Inspiration has not been my companion, days have passed and my fingers have not felt the urge to run eagerly across the keyboard of my computer. There has been no “de-pression” and I have not sighed deeply, mournfully, every time I walked past lap-top.

I no longer struggle with feeling inadequate or as if I “should” be writing, no matter what. I am totally comfortable with the fact that there are periods when inspiration pours down on me and through me like the waters in a continuously gushing fountain. And there are other times when I seem to be walking through an arid desert. But at least I know that the oasis is just a little way across the dunes and I have learned to be patient until it comes into sight. I refuse to accept mirages as excuses just to get on the computer.

At the moment I am on vacation with my husband in Orlando, Florida. It’s become a yearly tradition for us now during the Thanksgiving week. We have a small time-share and we come away from our “normal” routine and just relax together. But that in and of itself always brings some small rearranging within myself. It’s that “change” thing again.

I have to adjust to not having “my stuff” around me, although, not hindered by luggage restriction (we drive here), we do our best to bring whatever we want to have with us. This includes lap-tops, games (in my husband’s case), books (that’s me), and I lug everything I need to do my yearly Christmas mail drop.

I have hundreds of cards, stamps, address labels, silver and gold gel pens, purple pens, etc and while Rich plays games or does his geekie stuff on his Net-book, I attack my list of approximately two hundred friends around the world. Being in the military you either choose not to make friends because you’re constantly moving, or you make lots of friends and stay in touch. I fall into this second category.

So for part of each day I have been writing inside cards, addressing envelopes, attaching stamps and applying Christmas stickers. The weather has not been wonderful so I have only been to the pool twice in four days. But because I have to be outside, my Christmas card project takes place on the balcony overlooking the pool.

When I’m not card writing, I bring my current book out and read with the noise of the pool’s waterfall in the background. The resort is full at the moment and is hosting quite a few families so I am grateful that the overall peacefulness is not broken by shouts and screams and general noise created by many people gathered within a restricted area. I am mostly just grateful to God that we are able to do something like this given today’s economic climate.

Today must have been “breakthrough” day, although I think it started yesterday evening but we had plans to go out. When I got up this morning, I knew I was going to write: wasn’t sure quite what about, but that is often the case. The subject matter was not fully formed in my mind but there was a bubbling sensation in my heart and soul and I knew I needed to sit at my lap-top.

I think that God must have arranged the weather to accommodate this plan too. We had actually thought of going to the Holy Land exhibit today but, upon seeing the steady rain and the general all-over grayness of the day, we changed our minds and chose to “stay home”. I have to admit there was an internal, silent sigh of gratitude and my eyes went straight to my lap-top.

So here I am, words running from my brain, through my fingers, over the keyboard, and onto the screen. It just never ceases to amaze me watching and reading the end result of this process. I hope you, the reader, can share and appreciate the joy that my writing brings to me. Already there are thoughts running around in my head about the great murder mystery dinner theater we enjoyed on Monday evening. Then last night we got to experience the incredible Blue Man Group and I have so much to say about that.

We have been to see the awesome actress Sandra Bullock putting in the performance of a lifetime in Blind Side, and we also visited the quaintly interesting and somewhat Europeanized town of Winter Park. Even our weekly attendance at Mass on Sunday was in the very beautiful and unique “shrine church” of Mary, Queen of the Universe. But these will all be inspiration for other postings. The Muse has been most generous in her gifts again!

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Musings: Time – Flying Or Not?

Margo — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 23:45:15 +0000

For the trillionth time in the past few years I heard someone say, “Oh my God, time is just flying by”. And I mentally concurred as I noted the date on the calendar. It’s November 2009, almost Thanksgiving with Christmas knocking on the door. And, as usual, I found myself internally asking, “Where does the time go?”

Well, it goes by doesn’t it? I mean it doesn’t go for a walk, or to the movies, nor does it go to bed or on vacation!! It simply goes by, tick-tocking the seconds one by one. It never stops, nor does it go back on itself. It keeps on marching and no one can stop it or change it.

Sometimes when I think about the inexorable passing of time I get in a bit of a panic. I suspect that’s the very human part of me that recognizes underneath it all that with the passing of time my life span gets shorter by the second. However, there are other moments when I feel quite OK with the passage of time and I’m sure that’s when I’m more spiritually fit, when I’m more God-centered rather then me-centered.

I actually have a personal theory as to why time seems to be flying by. I’m very sure that the closer my soul feels to home, the more it seemingly accelerates time. It wants to get there, no delay!! I am of course speaking from a Christian perspective. I do believe in an after-life and I think that the closer I get to my transition date from this earth, then my soul is just in a hurry to get there.

Then I find myself thinking about heaven and what that might be like. When I was younger I used to imagine thousands of us, all glowing white and gold, surrounded by angels with long golden trumpets, just kind of bobbing around in this shiny nebulous place – rather like bobbers on a fishing line all massed together and smiling beatifically at each other.

Today my idea of heaven is greatly changed. Seeing as it’s my goal to get there I’ve given it quite a lot of thought. I’m very sure there will be activity rather than just sitting or standing around “bobbing” and beaming at the other souls. I really imagine some of it will allow me to sit on a seashore or a riverbank with Jesus and Buddha, Gandhi and Gibran, Richard Bach and Og Mandino, Marianne Williamson and Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Princess Di and Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II and Wayne Dyer.

There will be time to talk with them, collectively and individually. Unlimited time to ask them questions and have long discussions with them. I am sure I will meet the spiritual beings that were my family members and friends and that we will be able to connect in ways that were impossible here on earth because of the lessons we were learning, or teaching, here.

Most importantly there will be love, complete and unconditional love which will be the true source of happiness and joy. Practicing compassion will be the norm. There will be a beauty that transcends any earthly concept of beauty. And there will be no pain and no hatred. Now that’s what I call heaven.

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Musings: The Football Game

Margo — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 00:48:16 +0000

In the first place, it’s quite amazing that I, a true-born Brit raised on cricket, rugby, and English football (soccer), should be sitting here writing with enthusiasm about a typical American game. But when I married Richard, apart from marrying a military man, I also married a die-hard Cowboys fan. So it isn’t so strange that, by osmosis, I was drawn to American football and eventually became an "almost” die-hard Cowboys follower.

I say almost because I don’t quite have the depth of pure reverence that Richard has in his bones for the cowboys. I do not worry too much if for some reason we cannot watch the game on TV, whereas he will fret and do everything in his power to remedy this situation. When we do watch the game, even though I will get excited and shout along with the rest of them, I somehow lack that piece of fan-hood that gets me out of my seat in our living room, jumping up and down, ranting at a bad play or a bad call, or pacing the floor, like an expectant first time father, at crucial moments of the game.

Speaking of reverence, I will never forget that time when we drove up to Charlotte, North Carolina to watch the Cowboys play the Carolina Panthers. The game was played on Christmas Eve of 2005. Richard had arranged the hotel stay and tickets through a special group in Texas who follow the Cowboys wherever they play. We were actually staying at the same hotel as the team members.

I had never seen Richard so exited before then. He was literally like a kid in a toy store. Camera in hand, he hung around the reception area in the hopes of catching a glance, of being able to breathe the same air as one of his “Boys”. My daughter and I joined him at some point for this vigil just as a group of team members came through and graciously stopped for a few brief moments to acknowledge their fans. Richard had stars in his eyes and was totally elated at this experience.

We went out afterwards to have a meal, and on the way down in the elevator we found ourselves face to face with one of the players. I thought I was going to have to put a ball and chain on Richard’s leg to keep him anchored to the ground! As we retired for the night, I was already in bed and Richard turned off the light to come and join me. As he placed one knee on the mattress to climb into bed he hesitated a moment, raised his eyes to the ceiling, and reverently said, “The Cowboys are sleeping just above me.”

All this aside, there is nothing quite like going to a live football game, especially if it entails seeing your dedicated team. There is an energy that is quite unique, almost tangible, as you join the flow of fans from the parking lot to the stadium. There is a hum and a buzz, an expectancy in the air. The fans from the two teams usually engage in good natured bantering and teasing among themselves, yet below the surface there is an earnest seriousness to all such exchanges.

As we entered the stadium in Tampa a few weeks ago, just as we did in Charlotte back in 2005, we could feel the excitement mounting. Even I, an “osmosis fan” was ready for a good game. Cowboys fans travel well and we were surrounded by the white, blue and silver of our T-shirts and the symbolic Cowboys’ stars reined supreme. The smell of hotdogs permeated the air as groups of fans began chanting their team’s slogans in full-throated support.

Considering the amount of beer that is consumed at football games, the fans are pretty much well-behaved. Occasionally tempers, fuelled by the alcohol, spill out into semi-serious arguments. But for the most part these flare-ups are short lived. The focus is on the game and the enjoyment of being a fan and supporting your team.

The Tampa game was exciting – for us at least. The Cowboys were first to put points on the scoreboard, but then it was a back-and-forth score and both teams were fairly evenly matched. But towards the end of the third quarter and as the fourth quarter unfolded, the Boys took the upper hand and, cheered on by their faithful fans, they scored two touchdowns in quick succession and the Buccaneers’ fans began to leave the stadium in droves.

The sweet taste of a win always makes the enjoyment of the game so much greater. As we headed back to the hotel to load the bike for our ride home, we were aware of a sense of satisfaction, a joyfulness of heart, a contentment that we carried with us all the way back to Jacksonville. And our prayer of gratitude for a safe ride home also included a special thank-you to God for a good game and a Cowboys’ win!

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