Forgive, but don’t forget. That’s been my policy. It’s not that I want to hold a grudge; it is a self preservation thing. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. I don’t need a second helping of

betrayal

disappointment

embarrassment

disrespect

lies

backstabbing

exploitation

So I will remember. I will hold it to my belly, curl around it and protect myself from that sort of thng ever happening again. I will be safe, remembering that horrible thing–never forget–what was done to me. I can cherish the memory, polish and refine it with names. Those people who did me wrong, they were

alcoholic

abusive

mentally ill

and more! with these labeles, I have categories for my victimhood and have bolstered it. I have a powerful stance, an informed and logical, backed-by-science victimhood and a reason to never never never forget.

If i make sure to be careful and protect myself from these bad guys and their hurtful scary ways, I can avoid the situations and encounters that will bring me more pain.

I’ve been thinking about this; about forgiveness and broken trust and my own safety.

I remembered this book. Steve Martin the comedian writes books now, and one of them, The Pleasure of My Company, is about a man who suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder. He’s really smart, and he has locked himself into these rules.

Every day, he must overcome  extraordinary obstacles to just exist. One of his fears is of stepping off curbs–he can only leave his side of the street when a driveway provides a sloped descent into the street AND a corresponding driveway directly across the street provides an onramp. Not diagonal, only directly across.

Therefore, to get from his apartment to a local store to get necessary items, he takes a very circuitous route. It takes more than an hour to walk a few blocks to Rite Aid. He hates this, but he must abide by these rules in order for the world to be okay. He regrets how much time it takes, but his life requires it.

How much have I re-routed the natural straight line of my life by all my fears? That one over there hurt me so much once, I can never speak to him again. This one nearby has nothing noticeably questionable going on, but she doesn’t seem to know or agree that THAT one is dangerous, so they are likely in cahoots.

The one over there? Well, he reminds me of the first one, so I better avoid him jsut to be sure.

That’s a long way to walk to avoid getting hurt and being safe.

If there were a way to forgive past the part where I need to remember to protect myself, I could save a lot of time. I want to step off the curb to get where I want to go.

Thoughts I am thinking;
Who am I?
What do I want? Why do I do what I do?
What labels apply to me?
What about those labels DON’T apply to me?
What do I love?
What do I love to do?

Picture it

I have been feelling frustrated that I am not seen.

Yoo Hoo! over here!

again and again I am not taken into consideration

Then it occurred to me, if they don’t see me, I’m the one who has more information. I see me. I know who and what I am.

If “they” don’t know, I am in a superior position.

that makes me feel better.

Merciful moon
You are gentle with my flaws bathing them in softlight
You struggle too
Giving in to the overpowering shadow of other beings
We both find ourselves less then what we could be
All too often

Courageous moon
You succumb and fight on
Never ending example of my struggle in the sky

Someday I might shine like the sun
Blazing fullness always

Until then I have the soft tender moon
Solacing my waxing heart

My husband’s grandfather owned a machine shop, and my grandfather worked in one. That means machine shops were really common once upon a time. Now, the only thing to say is

What’s a machine shop?

It used to be that machines and things required a special made part when they would wear out. So recent and so forever ago, there used to be all sorts of daily-use things that would break. When they broke, they would get fixed. Often the thing that broke was a part. A part of the machine, a piece of the mechanism, needed to be replaced.

It sounds almost medieval now, because we have so standardized everything and mass produced it. To create a new part or retool an old one doesn’t happen nowadays. We buy a new one.

I am pretty sure back then, parts were made to last. I bet part of the reason machine shops were required is because things were older and had been around a long time, were expected to be around and were expected to be maintained.

This idea, like the machines needing to be maintained, is not new to me. I have heard stories about my grandfather—my dad’s dad—all my life. I am thinking about it now because I am thinking I have a worn out part in my personal mechanism.

I’m thinking about my impulse toward gratitude. I have a HUGE scroll of things that frustrate me. I am sick to my teeth of being frustrated. I am tired past bearing of waking up in the middle of the night to think “And another thing…!”

Books and entire industries are dedicated to the idea of gratitude as a happiness lifestyle. “They” say we should keep gratitude journals and in other myriad ways express gratitude. It makes our life work better.

It was my granddad we were talking about–the one who worked on machines. I work with systems and machines too. I see that my gratitude flywheel is not functioning. It needs to be replaced.

I am frustrated again (see how quick I get there?!). Why can’t I just have a durable part, a strong and load-bearing gratitude flywheel? One that doesn’t wear out.

It doesn’t work like that I guess. This one, this part, it wears out on a regular basis. It’s the sort of thing that requires constant refreshing. Some things, like that hammer chisel in Chris’s grandfather’s toolchest, will last for decades and centuries. Other parts have to be replaced every day.

I suppose it is not a part, not a flywheel. It’s more like the oil. I have to keep this heart of mine greased with gratitude or it seizes up.

I do a lot of things during the day that I’m not sure I mean. It’s like there are things I really want or impulses I am following, And my actions are not what I would have picked.

It’s like going to the grocery store hungry, You don’t make the right choices. So my choices to do that or not do that seem to be Coming from a place that is not in balance.

I can be better than that, If I could make sure not to be hungry.

But what am I hungry for?

Woke up early *thinking* again…damn my head…and in all the other thoughts were self recriminations that I had not gotten anything to celebrate my husband for our six years of marriage.

I honestly hoped I could sleep again after I got up to write out the thinking.

Nope

Then I thought…he would love a somecrust cake! He mentioned wanting cake!

Brilliant!!

So, soothe the dog to prevent barking as I leave IN MY PJs to get somecrust delights!

They aren’t open yet

15 minutes of car sitting watching the early rising senior citizens take their early morning constitutionals in Claremont village

Laughing at myself. Hoping Veronica does not wake herself and therefor chris at 7 this morning and undo my well meaning gift of cake

Hello fellow humans! I am particularly human today

Is there anything worse than a big change that is about to happen, then gets delayed but is still about to happen? the tension, the unknown is looming and booming.

I almost want to go back away from the change

and yet the change is already in place. No backing out now.

is the change really going to be different? I’m supposed to envision it, and yet all I am hitting is uncomfortableness. I’m supposed to envision the amazing beautiful future.

my heart hurts in the now. Is it really so simple?

I can usually keep a plant alive. Not always. But I’ve always had a potted plant with something in it near me. I like the plants that dramatically wilt to remind me that they need water. I will notice an impatients plant with unsubltle drooping wilted leaves and then go around and put water on all the pots.

There is a trick to it. If the water hasn’t hit the soil in a while, the first thing that happens is that the water skims off and out, splashing out and everywhere but into the dirt where the plant can use it.

The soil needs the water and the plant wants the water, but the first reaction is to repulse the liquid like a reverse polarity magnet. “Get away from me!”

It even creates a kind of current as the water starts a motion to leave the soil’s surface.

This phenomena happens in our desert landscape when it rains. The soil is hardened, slick and not at all willing for the water to merge in. There has been unseasonable rain this fall, and our TV keeps interrupting the regular programming with claxon sounds of warning

FLASH FLOOD IN LOS ANGELES COUNTY

BEWARE

I’ve never been in the beware zone of a flash flood, thank heaven. But I’ve seen my potten plants sheet off the life-giving water that way so I can imagine a whole landscape and the danger it would give if the rain had nowhere to go.

I am the god of my captive plants’ life. I have to wrestle with them to get the water where it needs to go. I’ve found that if I put a little bit of water on the resistant soil and let it rest. the soil will eventually come to terms with the change of state from hard and dry to acceptance. One that first little bit of water penetrates the surface,, THEN the soil will allow itself to accept all the water it can. The water fills in all the spaces in the soil and most especially the areas near the roots so the plant can get what it desperately needs.

I can be like that. SO STUBBORN to resist what it turns out I am dying for. Even if I have an inkling that what I’m starting to experience is a desperately needed change, I can push it away and assert my mastery over the circumstance.

“Yes, well, this water feels weird. I was thinking that once I dropped all my leaves, then the moisture currently in the air would be more than enough…More than enough! No need to change a thing.”

I need to sit with this unfamiliar newness. I should let it penetrate. Once the flow into the heart happens, it will be so easy and good.

I’ve been listening. I’ve been reading and asking.

I just finished listening to myself, and reading myself.

I re-read The Parable of Miriam the Camel Driver again. It is time for a parable.

Since Miriam is ME, I find that I am in the same groove. I am finding the same results when i do the same things

The same frustrations, the same responses from others.

I have a vision of what I can accomplish and what I’d like to accomplish. I have stuff I want to DO, things I am DYING to do.

Crying to do.

The same blocked road happens.

This means, if all the books I am reading and questions I am asking lead to this result I don’t want…

The books and ready answers don’t work, or specifically they don’t work for me. Same difference.

I need to ask different people different questions. I need to find a different road, and a new map.

It is up to me.

And THIS time, I intend to be clearer on what i what and where i want to go