The Gumball Analogy: Chewing on it!

Growing up, I remember having a quarter at just the right time.  That magical moment when we are walking past the gumball machine and asking for a gumball, hopeful that permission would be granted by my parents.  In the face of disapproval from my parents, I would convince them that I would not play with it and that I had the money to secure my own gumball without imposing on their wallet. With probable regret my parents would acquiesce and I would feel the exhilaration of ownership for the world best gumball that surely awaited me magically in that gumball machine.
I would put my quarter in the machine and hope that my hands were strong enough to turn the knob to release the behemoth of a gumball.  I can hear my mother saying, "That is just too much gum for any one person, let alone a kid!".  I didn't care! I wanted it, badly. I wanted to be able to chew endlessly and blow bubbles while thinking how cool I was. All the cool kids at school had gum on a daily basis.  My upbringing usually didn't provide for bubble gum.  My mom was a Wrigley's or Juicyfruit kind of mom.  Every kid knows that those brands don't make for good bubble blowing, especially with one paltry stick that was typically doled out with wisdom.  Mom would say, "Don't smack your gum!" or "You are chewing your gum like a cow chews their cud!".  That would take all of the revelry out of chewing gum.  This is what led to the closet chewing, smacking and bubble blowing.
When we came back to the United States from my Father's southeast Asian tour of duty, the bubblegum rage had hit it's all time peak for kids!  The debut of  "BubbleYum" was God's gift to all kids privileged to live in America!  Soft, sweet and packed with sugar! Softeners and sugar, what a recipe for addiction!  It was packaged in blocks, big enough to strangle an elephant. We didn't care, the thrill of smuggling it into class and being talented enough to keep it under our tongue during school was the ultimate mission impossible. In this season of the upcoming Hallow's Eve, this was the epiphany of all of my greatest hopes...free gum! Not realizing that nothing was free in the world at that time, I felt the pay off of free gum was well worth the drudgery of bracing myself against the cold, rainy even snowing night to acquire the gift of the season, myriads of gum potential!  Being able to make it last was the champion mindset, don't share it or trade it with your siblings!  Covert chewing and perseverating became the ultimate in skill sets and the gateway drug to adult OCD.

We know that chewing during an interview is bad form, chewing gum while taking photographs is also taboo, but even more invaluable, avoiding swallowing your gum if you are trying to eat while chewing gum. Mastery of walking, talking and chewing gum was the greatest second only to the runway walk as a young teen upon seeing Brooke Shields take New York and Calvin Klein hostage with her moxy! How does this transfer into adulthood? Well, honestly I haven't quite been able to wrap my mind around the complete understanding but will share some insights I have gleaned in the past few days of chewing on it!
Thinking about the things I chew on now is rather enlightening to me. Much like chewing on gum, I have been chewing on the recordings in my head as an adult that secretively kept me in my closet of doubt, fear and insecurities. Thinking if I just roll it over in my mind, picking a pace of mindful mastication would some how get me to that juiciful flavor of enlightenment.  I surely would be able to understand it better, get to that morsel of truth or untruth that was hidden deep inside among the softeners of years and colorings that the life experiences have provided.
I realized at my recent thirtieth high school reunion that I was not chewing on the important parts of my memories but the perceived memories and implanted insecurities that I have carried with me in a suitcase full of gum, ABC gum...Already Been Chewed!  There I said it, confessing to myself that I have hung on to these pieces of my past and their faulty beliefs that have kept me in the same line for far too long, the line of customs and hoping to gain something from the past that I have missed and longed for.  I would venture to guess that if there was a line for gum customs in the universe, we would all be holding onto some of the very same old pieces of our past.  Those recordings of doubt and insecurities, our friends, ex, or parent's voice, chiding us to do better, be better and especially to pay attention.  Being on alert, sniper alert has made us the proverbial pack rat of inner recordings and dialogues in reflection what could of, would of, or should of happened.  So if it is that piece of Samsonite or even a duffel bag that houses your cares, open it up.  Look at it for what it is, just pieces of your past.

Just like after Halloween, the customary sorting and trading of candy and gum on the living room floor, we must take on the task of sorting and trading our memories/recordings and identifying them as necessary or unnecessary.  Surely this gigantic piece of emotional luggage is not required to finish our journey into happiness and self acceptance.  Here lies the great task, finding a safe place to sort, choosing the safe pace at which to sort and discard, finding what is really important and most assuredly an integral part of our truest, highest self.  Realizing that some of those stored recordings and messages share similar qualities like color and shape, or flavor or origin is the beginning of the inventory of our lives and thoughts.  We can choose to sort them in a generation or era of our lives.  We can choose to sort them connected to a relationship of importance.  Sometimes we don't remember how our child mind made sense of such an event or how our heart welcomed the pain in residency.  There was always room for just one more, only because we were still listening to the previous recordings of judgement.  At some point, an intervention is completely necessary for the hoarder.  Maybe it is an intervention of family or friends, or a self inflicted intervention of frustrations due to what we want in our lives. I am believing that now is my season of sorting and discarding of those old recordings and messages.  I am making room for the future of bounty and joy.  I am happy to purge that piece of Samsonite that houses the inaccurate recordings, the hurtful and untrue parts of my past that I have kept alive.  Now is the time for the greatest haul of sweets in my life..the time to sort out and keep the good stuff and eliminate that which no longer serves me or inhibits my growth and evolution! Here's to chewing on it, through it and blowing that bubble of self appreciation!
 

Why does the humming bird sing?

I found, in a very quiet moment, that I actually heard a humming bird sing.  I thought humming birds only hummed. At first I thought it was singing to call out to it's mate, its companion in the world. Then my own inner voiced chimed in and uttered the epiphany that caught me off guard. It sings because that is what they do, sing, simple.  They get this name from the sound their wings make when flying.
Who ever wants can fill in the blanks of this analogy at will.
They sing because that is their hard-wired design.  They sing because of the gratitude in their tiny bird heart that beats far faster than a human heart. Their vision and focus are acute. They are strong in storms and find shelter in trees, not bird houses.  They can fly up, down, right, left, backwards, upside down and even loop-de-loops! Amazing!
Singing is a scratchy sound when listening to the tiny creatures in isolation.  In comparision to other birds the humming bird never hums, it sings.
Learning how to sing has been one of those talents that each soul has journeyed a lifetime for. Some of those journeys are arduous and daunted by mirrors and recordings of what the rest of the species sound like and look like. Comparison has kept us all in our place of doubt.  Feeling and seeing our song as not good enough. Not trusting that our song is simply, our song.  Caged birds, free birds(yes 80's recall here), whatever our song may be it is still our song.  We choose it, we are designed to sing it for the place we are in time.   That was the magic of today.  The choice to sing the song of my heart. To replace the doubt of comparing myself to others and embrace the reality of my gift and pioneering spirit.  Being different like a humming bird is to the rest of the bird world, is also a unique gift, singing differently in comparison is not good, not bad, just different.  The humming bird doesn't try to fit in with the rest of the bird world, it does exactly what it is designed to do, just differently. They are present in their space and mindful of winds and rains.
Beauty and grace in action (Sandra), is finding that safe place of trust and confidence.  Confidence in the knowing that different is an architectural feature not a flaw.

Haven't you had enough of wondering why we are so different? Why does it matter? Who was the idiot that made us believe that different is not good?  To that inventor, I know the road less traveled is a hard one.  Pioneering spirits in this time are doing exactly what they should be doing, singing their own song, passionately and with conviction, believing that different is a good fit for them.
The world may be preparing for the winter of economical change on a daily basis, but shouldn't we be mindful of the winds of change and know that our song is the one thing we should prepare?  We don't have to memorize the words of our song, we don't have to practice it in front of the mirror with a hairbrush as a microphone.  We just have to sing it from our genetic design, from our heart and from the sticking place.   Sing without notes, without a teleprompter with lyrics. Just sing from the heart.  This is what the Universe is waiting for, what society needs to heal and what we need to grow from.  A nurturing song of acceptance and change from the heart.

Refridgerator Feng Shui

As a busy single mom and full time employee, I find it hard to clean out my fridge on a weekly basis.  Much of this is procrastination, but a good portion of it comes from my frugal lifestyle of leftovers.
I was raised by some pretty middle class parents that grew up during the depression.  Bacon was a commodity and orange juice was a luxury.  There was always a great deal of thriftiness in our household due to my parents feeding five of us kids and the multiples of friends that meandered in and out of our house at dinner time or after school.  My parents often said, "We just don't throw away food or waste it!".

I learned to cook from scratch, without a microwave.  Our idea of fun food were frozen dinners when my parents had an event or gala to attend.  Aluminum trays of precooked food that match my mom's typical menu, but had the surprise element of the food items wandering into the little comparments of the Tray once you unveiled them after cooking.  Who really wants peas or corn in their apple cobbler? I remember they were called "tv dinners" and often wondered why they had such a name!  We never were allowed to eat in front of the television growing up.  That was just so gauch!  We had a perfectly good dinning room table to eat and and should be grateful to sit and eat at it.

McDonald's was not a mainstay and if we were really lucky we had the opportunity to eat there on family vacations but usually ended up with road trip digestive issues because my parents wanted a sit down meal at a truck stop or a Denny's kind of place.  There was no such thing as a happy meal.  To my parents, a happy meal was when you ate everything on your plate and were grateful for it, no griping!

On the days that my Dad was away from home with the military, my Mom would indulge in a skillet full of liver and onions.  We could smell it cooking long before we stepped foot in the door.  After a few years of listening to us whine and complain about the liver and onions, my Mom would acquiesce and tell us to go make a sandwich. Oh the relief that gave us!

Mom was an excellent middle class cook.  She could cook for officer's dinner parties or feed a mass of teenagers and boy scout troops.  She taught us all to be thankful for our food and especially reminded us that there were children in third world countries that would kill for food like ours even if it meant liver and onions.  I think she was seriously delusional about them killing for liver and onions, but I never spoke that to my Mom.  She taught us how to set the table for family or for formal dinner parties.  She prided herself in having the right dinnerware for each and every event life threw at her.  She taught us to appreciate the value of a wicker paper plate basket and the luxury of paper towels and napkins.  For her it was economy, frugality and efficiency.  We are a far cry from where her generation was.  I don't think my children know how lucky they are to not have to iron dinner napkins after school and fold them just right!

Barbeques were the highlight of summer since we could eat anywhere and as much as our hearts desired.  The promise of desert was only available for a special occasion and ice cream and cake only came on birthdays.  As we all got older the idea of leftovers became a rarity.  My teen brothers would scarf anything even if it was cold.  The idea of a cold meatloaf sandwich still burns in my mind as an adult.  My brothers would eat just about any left over with a good dose of the gourmet sauces of Heinz 57 or ketchup.  My stomach hurts just thinking about scraping the cold grease off of the roof of my mouth from that venture.

So here we are in the year of 2012 and I find that the face of leftovers has changed dramatically.  We rarely have matching Tupperware.  We rarely have anything that is sealed air tight.  Much of it comes wrapped in plastic or zip-loc bags.  If there is reusable plastic it is definitely not labeled and dated.  Well at least not at my house.  Sometimes my most efficient teenager will get fed up and dive in and start pitching left overs out, including my favorite sauces and dressings.  I always come to the rescue of the exotic sauces and promise her they will be used and that they were expensive.  She usually rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head in disbelief.  Now is that anyway to treat your mother knowing where she came from?  Knowing how her upbringing was burned in her brain?  There must be a solution to manage the refrigerator and the current generation of disposables.  Surely there must be help out there somewhere?  There must be a super hero television show on the food channel that approaches this subject? Is there no help for us forty somethings still trapped in our upbringing?

I really think we should have a special kind of service provider in the realms of the science and practice of Feng Shui.  This person ideally would come into our homes on a weekly basis and organize our refrigerators by the principles of Feng Shui. Their soul intention would be to align our life with our food.  Could this be the answer to wiser shopping and spending?  Could this be a better way to look at the food we eat and the junk we keep?  I know there are plenty of concepts to virtually apply to this idea.  So let's take a look at how it might apply.

Let's look at the refrigerator like we would look at deciphering our home in practicing our Feng Shui.   Imagine this diagram was superimposed on the face of the refrigerator as we would open the door.
If this were to be applicable and true, we would hide the wealthy or expensive(Wealth area) goodies in the back left hand corner on the upper shelf or our fridge.  Things like Cambriozola cheeses and other luxury items like bacon and cream cheese. 
Then moving left to right we would place our items that are popular(Fame area) to eat next to them  Things such as diet foods, yummy lunch box items often sought out by our family members.
In the far right corner of the top shelf of our fridge we would then keep items that everyone loved(note Partnership area), goobers peanut butter and jelly mix, Nutella and the coveted Asian food left overs! 
Moving down a shelf, we would want to keep the things that are staples to our family(Family area), the things we want them to eat but might not always be chosen so quickly.  Items such as lunch meat, sandwich fixings and the items that we buy on coupon thinking we want them badly enough but wouldn't possibly purchase them without a coupon!  Heaven knows I didn't really need the lemon flavored mayonnaise that we had a coupon for this past summer! 
The center(Center area) of the second shelf is where all the excitement happens, what we gather around and what makes us feel at home.This would be the comfort foods in our lives.  Items like, scalloped potato left overs and Thanksgiving turkey and gravy. 
Directly to the right of those comfort foods you would find the food(Offspring area) we as adults would never touch with a ten foot pole! Probably because we know what goes straight to our hips and only a teenager can handle simply due to the idea that their metabolism can handle anything, whereas our adult bodies just can't handle it and we know it!  Those would be hot pockets or some kind of microwave fast food filled with additives and preservatives and food coloring!
Finally moving down to the bottom shelves and drawers, the truest form of refrigerator Feng Shui is found!  The stuff we know is good for us.  For knowledge is power(Knowledge area).   What we have learned are the essentials in our diet and in our life to maintain the balance of humanity.  Veggies! Yes! The ever dreaded bag of carrots, onions, potatoes, tomatoes and broccoli.  There I said it.  This is the place our mothers passed down the ultimate in knowledge for eating right.  The common sense of dietary rules!  Realize of course no one family member will visit that part of the fridge without good cause and consciousness.  Really why would they when they have the wealth area or the fame area?
Directly next to the knowledge area of our fridge Feng Shui, we would find the area of career, this is where we keep the I"I am taking this to work tomorrow for lunch!" item.  Unfortunately this is the one area of items that might get neglected since we are often in a hurry and have completely forgotten that the night before we had noble intentions of taking our lunch to work to avoid going out and spending unnecessary money on lunch in a not so healthy place! That tidy plastic container with the healthy leftover Salmon and brown rice! Yep, there it sits to greet you when you arrive home the same day and stare into the abyss of the fridge to ponder what to make for the evening meal while all other family members are either harping and hungry or give you the non-committal response to the eternal question.  You know the question, it is the one that at the end of the day even you don't feel like answering or making a decision over. "What do you feel like for dinner?".  Then the responses vary from "I don't care!" to "I already ate something after school and don't feel hungry right now!". sighing we resort to revisiting the lovely leftovers in the comfort food section of our Feng Shui area of partnership or Offspring.  Comfort food left overs or Asian take out leftovers warmed up!

Finally there is the last section of the Feng Shui fridge...The Helpers section! Hooray for this in our modern time and busy world! This is the area of gallons of milk, orange juice and bagels and flour tortillas to whip up something yummy, something to tide us over till dinner time or keep us out of the Wealth area of luxury foods on the top shelf!

Yes this seems just like my fridge..well in sorts but mostly in the ideal realm of life.  Now to just make sure the foods in the Center area don't gain or grow fuzz or start to change colors! One day at a time and I can conquer this Feng Shui principle to every part of my life!  I just wish someone would do the linen closet for me!

Seeing clearer in the fog...The Very Busy Spider

It's a terribly foggy morning. I have had a night of dreams and visions.  I awoke to find a thick blanket of fog around the house.  It was almost spooky.  A great fall day for those who like to sit and enjoy the great Pacific Northwest weather.
After returning to my home from my first appointment of the day, I stepped outside onto the deck and saw for the first time the evidence of the population of spiders in my trees and yard.  On sunny days, everything seems so clear.  I rarely see them then. On foggy days the invisible is brought into focus because of the residue of moisture on everything.  The webs are intricate and beautiful.  Like lace in the trees and garden.

The understanding of the morning comes clearer. The work isn't always visible, but the product is.  How busy those spiders have been in the past few autumn days.  Their work is intricate and faceted, much like the work of teachers. Hours may go into their creation before we can really see the product.  Many of my friends and I have commented on how work goes on behind the scenes in teaching.  Hours of take home work and papers to grade, reports to write and especially the deep and long, thoughtful ponderings on reaching the unreachable student.

Like the pearls of water on a web, teachers can provide the precious jewels to unlock the student's mind and soul to learning.  Some pearls sadly are shared but the learner is not yet ready to absorb.  This does not stop the work of the teacher.  They are daunted and challenged but remain the always diligent spinners, preparing the next step and the next web. When considering the value of pearls, we must look at those around the student.  We can only hope that they can recognize the worth of this work and its impact on the individual, the family and the community. The work is long and hard and again sometimes unnoticed.  The teacher, like the spider, busily redoing yet another approach to catch the student in the web of the mystery of learning.

Recognizing the call to make the lace web, to weave the inner understandings for all students, young and old, is the calling of a teacher in all subjects of life.  Knowing that day in and day out the work must happen, noble and humble to the world.  That very busy spider goes back at it without a break.  They are keeping the web of learning in place, repairing it and making it strong to withstand the weather of life's deep storms, winds and trials.  Those winds and storms of budget, politics, religion, rage on season after season. That teacher stands strong in the duty to answer to "student-kind" for their work and calling.

Knowing that there is little thanks for the spinner of the web.  Facing the daily challenges of catching the student in learning is the just reward.  Relishing that teachable moment when the student of life has that "Ah ha" experience is the thanks that gives the teacher each day.  Knowing by design the teacher is the ultimate architect, creating intelligent living monuments that make humanity so supreme in the Universe.  Finding the right weave and angle is not found in a recipe but found in the heart of the spinner.
"The world is like an enormous spider web and if you touch it, however lightly, at any point, the vibration ripples to the remotest perimeter and the drowsy spider feels the tingle."(R. Warren).
 I can hope that this tingle helps the teachers in the world and in the Universe continue to weave and work, despite all the trials and pressures of the season and society.  As a student of life, I am grateful, and as a teacher I am inspired. 

Weathering the perfect storm of change.

I thought I was a great and powerful survivor in storms.  Now I am weathering out the most incredible storm of my existence.  The storm of finding my inner self.  I had watched the stars and horizon for this perfect storm but fell into distraction of busy work and preparing my mind for durability. Exercising my strength in my mind to feel strong and tenacious in every way.  Keeping my guard and secrets from the world and myself. They were serving the purpose they were designed for, helping me be strong and survive.  Where did the secrets and hard shell come from? I can't remember. I have locked that so deep inside me that even I can't find the why and when it was created.

I am shedding and molting.  This struggle is immense.  Continually pulling at my soul and heart to tear away the layers of hardness and roughness.  I was numb to the hardness until the storm put me in between a rock and a hard place.
Like most crabs being between a rock and a hard place is not one of unfamiliarity.  We cling to the rocks and manage to be tenacious in the surf.  Not allowing anything except the tides move us.  Now looking at the storm and crawling into the crevices of rocks and tide pools of my heart, I am wedging my shell against my soul.  Prying my hard exterior against the strength of the earth and Universal influences.  The rocks immovable and anchored are my hope to survive. Rocking myself back and forth in rhythm to the surge of the storm.  Each movement helps me shed and pull against my own tough shell and skin.  Rocking as I sob and pull and tear.  Feeling the tingle and sear of the salt on my tender soul as it escapes the hard exterior I have come to know as this life's persona.

The powerful surge of wind and waves rocks my heart and soul.  Some anxiety fills my mind and soul. I must breathe, breathe the sea mist and know I am exactly as I should be, in the right place at the exact time, perfectly designed for my experience in the Universe.  I can feel the tenderness and roughness and hear the waves roar and bark at my soul.  I fight the inner judgement and doubt that arise with every pull.  Keeping my eyes on the rock.  Holding fast and tight.  Singing out to those others in the surf.  Singing a sad and powerful cry of longing and struggle.  For, with the song comes the powerful inner dialogue of pain, confusion and fear.  Will I be strong enough?  Am I able to know just the right moments to step aside and let the Universal storm shape me?  It is the now of the push, the now of the moment that frees my eyes and brain to knowing and feeling.  Swaying in the current, clinging to what I know and what I am destined to be.  I can not see that destiny but truly trust it in the hopes of survival for my soul and mankind.

Nurturing myself with the particles of light and love that the rock I cling to provides.  It is all I can manage.  In the storm, nourishment is small and found in the rhythm of the surge.  My lungs are filled with conscious breaths and long exhales from my heart.  That space at the bottom of my heart to the back of my heart that sends those waves of emotional vibration into the frequency of the Universe.  I am present. Calm and strong. Slowly knowing this is my prescribed storm just as I had asked for in the place of evolution.  Coming into the sea of evolution and growth.  This time I will get it right.  This is my time to gain the understanding and power to do more, be better and shine with my new skin. I am calling to the storm, mindful of its power and caressing my tender change within and without.

I can feel the rhythm and rocking of the storm changing, becoming more manageable.  I can see my new exterior now, the hardness of me lies next to me, empty and drifting on the sea floor.  Its color has changed, once filled with blue and brown, it now seems gray and dark.   I have much to do but, long to see the new me. I long to know how I will shine and vibrate to the level of my destiny.  There is no mirror on the sea floor. I must ride this out till the storm passes.  It is then I will climb to the top and bask in the sunshine after the storm.  I feel the slowing rhythm coming.  I hear the sounds of sonic waves and their vibrations from the storm.  Soothing and slowing. Not judging but encouraging me to breathe. Just breathe. Deeply and with trust. Gaining a radiance of hope and confidence.  I can see my feet and hands in my view, grounded and strong with a new color.  A tender golden glow to them.  It is passing. I must listen to the timing of my soul and the Universal sea.  The message is there in the storm and in its wake. Taking note in my mind, heart and soul. Ready to know and be filled with the sunlight of the radiant knowledge after this storm is gone. Swaying in the tide. Grateful and mindful.