Worthiness

"When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible." ~ Brene Brown


Lately, I have been having dreams with the same theme. In each dream, I am someone who is not as highly regarded as someone else in the dream. I might be a servant or a socialite, but no matter the role, I am given the message that I am not as good as I think I am. 

I grew up privileged. My parents provided me with a comfortable home. We lived in the best area of town. We were members of the country club. I loved my life. Neither of my parents had come from the life they were providing for me. My grandfathers were both working class, one a baker, the other a truck driver. My mother grew up literally dirt poor, her father a tenant farmer before he became a truck driver. Dirt was her enemy, but I'll reserve that for another story. 

A few times in my life I have been told I am a snob, but there were many more times when people who might have the right to say that have told me I was not, that I was friendly with everyone. I rested in this definition of myself for many years. But to keep that definition as the gospel truth would not be living the truth. 

I was a snob, a virtuous snob. I never mistreated others because they had less than I did, but I did look down on others to make myself feel better about myself. Of course, I didn't know I was doing this at the time, but with a degree of introspection, I came to realize this truth. Once I recognized  my habit, I had the annoying responsibility to "see" it in myself every time it popped up, or as I more accurately describe it, "raised its ugly head".  I cannot say it never shows up anymore because it does, usually when I am feeling vulnerable or weak. 

Looking back, I recall a particular conversation with my mother, and it may have been several conversations over time, but if that is true, in my mind they have morphed into one indelible impression. My first love was my best friend's brother. We were both in high school at the time; he was one grade ahead of me. One day after school, he and I sat on the wooded lot beside his house, kissing and talking. I felt close to him, and I had reason to believe he felt close to me. It was a precious and innocent moment that we both shared. 

Walking the short distance to my house, I floated, my mind in the clouds, so to speak. As soon as I got in the door, my mom said the phone was for me. It was him. He wanted to come over to talk to me, and he asked me to meet him at the end of the driveway. Happily I ran out to meet him, and in a few minutes he appeared on his bike. He was acting strange. He told me that we could be boyfriend and girlfriend at home, in the neighborhood, but not at school. The news hit me hard. My excitement to see him turned to anger. I curtly told him that we couldn't be either. 

My mother had a way of spying on me, watching through the curtains in the living room. She knew something was wrong, and when I went inside, I told her what had happened. Immediately she said, "They don't think we are as good as they are. Your dad is not a doctor." Until my mother said these words, I had never considered that I was not "as good as they were". In my adolescent brain, I didn't understand enough about status and money to think that way. I brushed my mother's comment off and went to my room to have a good cry. 

My mother's comment planted a seed in my brain. That seed took root. Though I never admitted it even to myself, I was suddenly not good enough for someone I loved. I began to notice things, what I would call evidence that my mother was right. If the people I called friends didn't think I was good enough, then I didn't want their friendship. I began to pull away from the world I had known. I became classless in my choice of friends. I wanted to be everyone's friend. The boy I loved moved on to other girlfriends, and I watched, heartbroken. 

Thus, over the years, that spot in my psyche sometimes still raises its ugly head, as it has lately in my dreams. True to form, it happens when I am feeling particularly vulnerable or dealing with feelings of fear. But what I have now to counter those feelings is something powerful. It is truth. 

No one person is better than another person. How do I know this? I know because we are all gifted with life. Life flows through us, each of us. What we own or do can never negate that the beauty of the universe is flowing through us every second of every day. We may be in darkness at times, not aware of this divinity, this gift, and we may do things that cut us off from our own magnificence, but all the while, we are living and breathing life. If I am alive, I matter. I am here. I have a place. I have a purpose. 

So when I wake up to one of these dreams, I take a deep breath and remind myself of these truths. I, also, have a little talk with myself about being afraid or vulnerable. It's okay. I am worthy because I am. No other reason is needed. That is for all of us. I wish my mom would have known this. She was loved by so many, but underneath she felt less than. I am happy for us both that I know that could never be true, about her or anybody else. 

Just think what the world would be like if we all knew how precious we are just because we exist. 

What a beautiful world that would be. 

Letting in the Sunshine with Gratitude

The struggle ends when the gratitude begins. ~Neale Donald Walsch

In my life I have experienced some dark times, mostly self-imposed, and almost all created in my mind. This blog is my way of sharing what I have learned, and perhaps helping someone, who is suffering as I was, to see the beauty in life. 

When my three sons were young, I was depressed, but I didn't know I was depressed. I just thought that everyone struggled to get out of bed everyday, struggled to put on a happy face, and dreaded to go to sleep at night because the struggle would begin again all over the next morning. I had a quote by John Milton on the window sill above the kitchen sink. 

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." 

Somehow this quote spoke to me. I knew that my mind was my own, and I was creating this self-imposed hell, but I did not know how to  make the heaven part work. The acknowledgement of the truth of Milton's words did not make my heaven appear. 

The closet of my mind was full. It was full of complaints, negativity, and self-pity. The problem with this kind of clutter is that it multiplies and fills up all available space. There is no room for anything else. I looked to others to make me feel better, which worked for me at times, but it never lasted for long.

Much has been written in recent years about gratitude. As a young adult my own experience with gratitude had been reciting a mandatory prayer at dinner and responding to "What do you say?" when someone gave me something in front of my parents with a forced "Thank you." I did have bouts of gratitude, usually when receiving gifts at Christmas, but daily gratitude was not a habit of mine. 

Ultimately, I learned that my negative thoughts, not necessarily based upon reality, had to be replaced with authentic gratitude for the many blessings in my life, or I was doomed to the torrents and tempests of my own mind. Switching over from my habits of thought was not an easy task. I equate it to a couch potato beginning an exercise routine that includes lifting weights and running. 

Like the couch potato turned fitness seeker, mushy gratitude muscles soon developed, and I was feeling much better. Like a muscle, gratitude must be exercised daily or it will become weak.  Film producer and writer Rhonda Byrne challenges us in her book The Power  to make a list of 100 things we are grateful for every day until we embody a true feeling of gratitude. 

I suppose with enough practice gratitude will become a way of being, but I admit I am not there yet. It is my goal, however, because I know how much better my life has been since practicing gratitude so far. So give it a try. Make that list. Force your mind to find all of the blessings in your life right now. It might take a while, and your mind may give you quite a bit of resistance at first, but I can guarantee it will be worth the effort. Let me know how it goes. I would love to hear your stories. 

One proviso, being grateful for the people in our lives can provide for deep feelings of gratitude, but other people are not in charge of our happiness, so look deeply for everything in your life to be grateful for, including but not limited to the people. I leave you with one of my favorite gratitude videos. Perhaps watching this each morning would be a great way to start your day of gratitude.

The Joy of a Smile

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy. ~Thích Nhất Hạnh

When we were young, it was so easy to smile. Our smiles came from the inside. Even if life was difficult, a smile was just a breath away. But with time, our hearts got broken, just one too many times, and if we even smile at all, it can be forced. 

This happened to me. I used to smile so easily. Then one day, I couldn't muster a smile at all, not even a fake one. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I had lost my ability to smile. When I tried to smile, it looked more like a wince. 

Looking back, I can see what happened. I had given in to negativity, and it had a grip on me. I had let a relationship that was unhealthy represent all relationships for me. I didn't see a way out of my self-imposed tunnel. Truthfully, I didn't fully understand Thich Nhat Hanh's approach to smiling. 

What could make me smile again? I had to find out. I had to make a change. The joy in my heart had always gotten me through, but it seemed that was gone, too. Then one day, in a round about way, I realized where my smile had gone. 

I had rushed into a second marriage with an old friend. Before I realized it, I was conforming to his every wish, believing that if I made him happy, I would be happy. After several years of this, I had given and given, many times reluctantly because what he wanted was not what I wanted. Then one day he said to me, "I don't have anything to look forward to." That declaration burst the bubble I had been living in, and I realized something. I cannot make another person happy. But what came next was even deeper....

NO ONE ELSE is in charge of my happiness!

Happiness is an inside job. Looking for others to fill my unhappy heart was the problem. The solution was to take responsibility for my own happiness. The marriage didn't last but a few months more, but that was the beginning of my journey to happiness and to regaining my smile. 

First I took Norman Cousin's approach in Anatomy of an Illness, and decided to learn to laugh again. Reruns of I Love Lucy did the trick. Soon I was making jokes with my daughter, sometimes being silly and giddy. I still have a ways to go, but I feel a lightness in my heart that was not there before. 

Taking responsibility for our smile is a great adventure. No one can travel it for us, but the journey is worth it. 

Find your smile. Laughter is the best yoga. 

Kumar, Sivesh. "Million Dollar Smile....." Flickr. Yahoo!, 17 Mar. 2013. Web. 07 Feb. 2015.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

"A Buddhist monk asked his master how to avoid extremes of hot and cold. The master advised: 'When it is cold, be completely cold; when it is hot, be completely hot.' If circumstances are beyond your control, don't invest energy or emotion into them. Ride the reality of the moment. Be empowered by your acceptance."~from 1,001 Ways to Live in the Moment by Barbara Ann Kipfer.

Weather is a good place to start. We have absolutely no control over it, but we complain about it. It is not as if our complaining will change anything, but we still complain. Accepting the weather is a good place to start because it is one of the most obvious parts of life that is out of our control. It is only a beginning, though. Much of what happens in life is out of our control.

In fact, trying to control everything is about as insane it gets. No wonder it makes us crazy. Some people just can't let go and allow life to be what it is. I know that I couldn't, and that was where my suffering began and ended. I had erected a psychic shield that I used to resist any kind of situation that I did not want to accept, even rainy days. Imagine that. I am reminded of the 70's song Feeling Groovy, "You can't stop the rain by complaining," but that is exactly what I did, complain.

And the rain still fell. Until one day someone shared the song Listen to the Falling Rain by Jose Feliciano.

Listen to the falling rain
Listen to it fall
And with every drop of rain
You know I  love you more

Let it rain all night long
Let my love for you grow
strong
Listen to the falling rain
Listen to it fall

Now rain could mean romance and love. It could mean anything I wanted it to mean. It could, also, just be rain. The trouble with making rain mean anything is life is about change. The lover who sang the song is no more, so the rain becomes dreary, cold and lonely. Rain just is. The meaning we give it is just fiction, and that fiction can hurt us.

Acceptance of what is begins with seeing things as they are, not as we are. I used to be a hopeless romantic, and I thought if I gave up my romantic views of life then everything would just be dull, lifeless. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The melancholy that romance often brings, doesn't exist when I see the world as it is, not as I want it to be. All of the emotions that I used to feel, the roller coaster ride from down in the dumps to elation, are more subtle now. I thought I would miss them, but I don't.

Now when it rains, I let it rain. Nothing more, nothing less. Rain is a miracle that captivates me. My tiny garden soaks up the rain and grows. The droplets travel down the window pane, and I watch, mesmerized, no meaning attached. I simply observe.

Rain. Illness. Other people act and circumstances happen. Death. All the same. Life happens, and we can't control most of it. When we refuse to accept it, we suffer. In accepting, we no longer give meaning where no meaning exists. Pure acceptance, "When it is cold be completely cold. When it is hot be completely hot."

...and when it rains, it rains. Period.

Laugther is the Best Medicine......"Giggle..."

"What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul." ~Yiddish Proverb

As a child, my brother, sister and I  used to go with my mother to visit my grandmother in the country during the summer. In the evening, the children would run around the yard chasing lightning bugs while my mother, grandmother and Aunt Bessie, my grandmother's sister, would sit under the car port snapping peas and telling stories.

Sometimes, I would take a rest from all of my running around and sit down with them and listen. The stories were not familiar to me because they came from their shared experience many years before living out on that same countryside, though in much leaner times. Yet from those times shared together, as hard as they were, they were able to remember times of great fun.

Even now, as I remember them, my heart smiles and I can see them sitting there, bowls of field peas in their laps with their heads slung back in hearty laughter and tears running down their cheeks. My mother would get a stitch in her side and lean forward, still laughing, to catch her breath. Aunt Bessie, in her homemade cotton dress, gave up her usually pursed lips for laughter and a smile, and as she tried to restrain herself, made her ample figure jiggle in the process.

When I grew into my teen years, the same scene would embarrass me, and I could not understand how the same stories could send normally sane women into fits of laughter. Fortunately, those years were short, and I once again enjoyed those evenings spent together reminiscing, now including stories of which I was a part.  I don't remember any of the stories now, but I will never forget the laughter and the smiles.

Looking back now, the stories they shared were second to the laughter. The years they spoke of were from the Great Depression and World War II, when the whole country was hit hard and even harder for those already living in austerity. Finding the good was a way of easing the pain, even eradicating it.

I learned to laugh from my mother, her mother and Aunt Bessie. I am not too delicate in my expression. My mouth opens too wide and the sound is often raucous and uncontrolled. There was once a time, not too long ago, when I thought I had lost my ability to laugh, even smile. Laughter is something that comes from deep within, as does a genuine smile, and deep down all I could feel was sadness. Thank goodness the loss was not permanent.

My laugh is back now, along with my smile. The secret is to have people around us who think laughing is good medicine, daily medicine. Lucky for me, I have just such people in my life...

......and the laughter never ends.

Choosing what to Consume

It started sometime in high school. I just had to start speaking my mind. It is a curse, I know, but since then it is just a part of being Deby. Most of all, it meant that sometimes I'm not going to be swimming with the stream. I always have a choice. I can keep my mouth shut, but that would mean being someone else.

Thus is the case now. Before I read any book, I read the summary to find out if it is a book I might be interested in reading. I chose to read books that uplift me, inform or inspire me. I, also, try to be mindful of what I put into my mind. I take the saying, "You are what you eat," to another level, "You are what you consume."

We consume through our mouths, our ears and our eyes.

The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh has this to say about mindful consumption,

When I was a child, I used to argue with my parents when I wanted to do or have something, that everyone else was doing it or having it. This was not a valid argument to them then, and it is no more valid to me now. However, don't we all like to feel connected, even if that means eating a certain way or reading a book that almost literally, "everyone else is reading?" After all, swimming against the stream can be awfully lonely sometimes. This is something I have dealt with for the past 35 years. When I chose to home school my three sons, I received many raised eyebrows and even some angry comments about cheating my children from the experience of true learning. When I asked a doctor for alternative remedies for my son's asthma, she accused me of not wanting to give my son his medicine and being a neglectful mother. I later found out that cow's milk aggravates asthma. I cut it out of my son's diet and he never needed asthma medication again.

So now when it seems that almost everyone is eating meat or reading a certain book, I consciously make the choice whether or not to eat or read. Sometimes I choose wisely and sometimes I don't. What I do know is that, without a doubt, my choices have an impact on me and oftentimes on many others. Therefore, I try to learn from my poor choices, and I pay attention when I make decisions that elevate my spirit. All of this leads to creating a more conscious life. A happier life, in my experience.

紫流. "Fat Cat." Flickr. Yahoo!, 05 Apr. 2006. Web. 22 Jan. 2015.

Being Sure

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh!" he whispered.

"Yes, Piglet?" "Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw.

"I just wanted to be sure of you." ~A.A. Milne

When do we first learn to trust? Is it when we look into our mother's eyes and know that she is our world and she will be there to feed, clothe, and hold us? And when do we lose trust? Could we look into those same eyes with the expectations and needs of a newborn, only to find that the woman we are looking at cannot meet them?

Or is it later, when we learn to love someone outside of our immediate family, those people we can trust to love us no matter what and who can push every button we have? Is it after we fall head over heals in love with someone who uses words like always and forever, and "I'll be there for you no matter what." and we find out that these were just empty promises? Our heart broken and wounded, we retreat to the corner to lick our wounds, to once again emerge ready to love, or so we think.

But the wounds have never really healed. A scar would be just fine, but this wound is open and tender. The next person we meet can't see the wound through our smiles and laughter, all disguises to cover our pain. That is not until the wound is touched..... Those words, once so precious and loving, forever and always, are mentioned again, and we go off the handle over some insignificantly small matter. Back to the corner we go, licking the wounds, leaving our new love standing in amazement not exactly sure what happened. A couple of these episodes and the relationship is history before it even sprouted wings. There are two casualties here, us and the new guy or gal.

And then one day someone comes along that we don't want to lose. The same drama is played out, but this time it is like we are looking in a mirror. What we see is painful, but true. We cannot deny its truth. We see ourselves for the very first time. Sometimes what is there is so amazingly beautiful, we are in paradise.....and then sometimes it is so haggard and ugly that we wince at the view. Then slowly, but surely, we are able to look at ourselves without looking away, without self-rejection. We are healing.

Soon, we are able to really see the person we are with, not the reflection of ourselves, our pains, but truly seeing. This person has been there through it all. We can trust again. We, like Piglet, are sure of someone.

photo credit: K, Paul. "Do You See Piglet. Look At Their Tracks!" Flickr. Yahoo!, 28 Nov. 2008. Web. 07 Feb. 2015.