life is a jumble of socks

life is like laundry and it's full of missing socks. 

“One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.” 
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

every christmas i get new socks. and they are always warm and fuzzy. like hugs for my feet. life can be full of hugs. or it can be full of missing; missing someone, or something, or some experience. no matter what we do, loss is inevitable just like all the unmatched socks that come out of the drier. 

“When I was young I found out that the big toe always ends up making a hole in a sock.
So I stopped wearing socks.” 
― Albert Einstein

one way to deal with the pressures of life is to stop living. to hide away from the world by not dealing with it. dp says that my feet eat through socks. she accuses my toe nails of ripping through the fabric. i think that's how people approach life - they either rend slowly, making holes, or aggressively rip their way through the fabric of their life. i am a slow hole maker. i often sit back and let life pass me by. i often feel like i am the missing sock. 

“Granny always said finding justice was as tough as putting socks on a rooster.” 
― Jessica Maria Tuccelli, Glow

it feels like justice is lost in this world. so many terrible things are happening and there is nothing i can do to help. the news makes me anxious and sad. all around the world there is violence and loss. not the inevitable loss that comes with the cycle of life, but loss caused by violence. it has reached the point where i can't listen to the news.  

“I experience the same level of intense concentration watching a thrilling tennis match as I do hunched over a heaping pile of warm socks diligently searching for exact matches.” 
― Gregor Collins, The Accidental Caregiver: How I Met, Loved, and Lost Legendary Holocaust Refugee Maria Altmann

the laundry is not my job. i do the cooking and dp takes care of cleaning our clothes. but i do have the job of folding the socks. folding socks is like searching for the meaning of life. there on the table is a jumble of colours, sizes, textures ... and it's my job to sort them out, match them, and fold them. then put them neatly in the drawer, into baskets sorted by colour and type. life is a jumble of experiences and our brain sorts out those experiences through our senses. life is a jumble and we spend it trying to fit everything into baskets, sorted accordingly. and no matter what we do, there is always an unmatched sock. 


be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

butterflies, moths, and skippers.

today i read, "growth is painful. change is painful. but nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong."

i don't feel stuck these days. i feel like i am learning to fly. 

as i am learning to fly, i wanted to go back to my butterfly metaphor ... but then i decided that i wanted to write about moths. i think they get a bad rap. 

what's the difference between a moth and a butterfly anyway? they are of the same species, they both go through complete metamorphosis, the are both winged creatures. but for some reason, butterflies are beautiful and moths are pests. 

there are differences between them, and for each difference there is often an exception. 

basic differences:

• moths are nocturnal, butterflies are not (except for the moths that are not)
• moths tend to rest with their wings open and butterflies rest with their wings up (unless they are sunning)
• butterfly antennae are wider at the tips and moth's are feathery. 
• butterflies have more colourful wings ... usually

and if that wasn't complicated enough, there is another category of butterfly moths called skippers. skippers have the traits of both. they fly during the day, have antenna like a butterfly, have the colouring and fuzzy body of a moth, but hold their wings differently than both; they hold their forewings separately from their hindwings. 

i have decided that i am a skipper - neither moth nor butterfly, spreading my wings at my own angle, not fitting neatly into one category or the other.

i am a skipper, learning to fly, practicing holding my wings. 

“Be different so that people can see you clearly amongst the crowds.” 
― Mehmet Murat ildan

i am different. i am different in that i am unique. and i am unique in that i am the same as everyone else. i think i stopped making sense there ... we are all human. we all have the same emotions. the same instincts. the same drives. i fit neatly into many a textbook description. but my sameness makes me who i am, and who i am is me. and there is only one of me. 

are you a butterfly, a moth, or a skipper? 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

fierce love

i saw this post by geneen roth today and thought about myself, about my metamorphosis. i think that i have come out of my cocoon a butterfly. my wings are still wet, so i can't fly. but i will get there. 

my struggle with food and eating is the moisture on my wings. 

"a fierce kind of love for yourself." 

to love myself fiercely. 

to believe that it is possible to change. to become a butterfly. to believe that i could be at peace with food and with eating. to believe that i could be at peace. 

love yourself fiercely, 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

creativity

"to live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." - Joseph Chilton Pearce

being wrong. total fear. who wants to be wrong? who wants to put themselves out there and make a big mistake? but in order to live a full life, we need to be creative. 

"we have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down." - Kurt Vonnegut

creativity doesn't mean that you have to paint, or draw, or sculpt, or write plays, or make music. creativity can be in the kitchen, as you add a new ingredient or cook something new. it can be in the way you speak, the way you arrange your furniture, the accessories you wear or dress your house in, the way you play with your kids ... there's no limit on the ways to be creative. 

"others have seen what is and asked why. i have seen what could be and asked why not." - pablo picasso

without creativity, the world would be boring. everything would be the same. the sameness would be suffocating. but often creativity isn't easy. we are bombarded with images and messages all day long, both obvious and subliminal. these messages encourage sameness, not creativity. 

"creativity takes courage." - henri matisse

it takes courage to break out of what society tells us we should be, how we should look, what we should value, and how we should behave. creativity is being willing to step outside what is considered "normal" and be willing to make mistakes. life is messy. life is not perfection. and being imperfect and messy is exceptionally terrifying. 

"to be creative means to be in love with life. you can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it." - osho

i think that we need to take the idea of creativity beauty, dance, poetry, art, and music and look at those metaphorically ... making beauty in the things that you do - in trying new things, in speaking your truth, in managing your life ... in finding ways to engage in play. 


i think that a creative life is a brave life. how do you incorporate creativity into your life?

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

betrayal and marbles

i remember my first ever betrayal by a friend. i was in kindergarten. we were sitting in circle and the teacher was talking. i whispered to my friend that the doctor said i didn't have to wear glasses anymore ... the teacher yelled at us for talking and asked if we were talking on topic. my friend could have lied and said yes. she lied all the time. but she didn't. she said "no" so i got yelled at some more. 

i remember that feeling of my heart sinking. of knowing that my best friend didn't have my back. 

so what do we do with these feelings of betrayal? i want to share with you a really important part of Brene Brown's Daring Greatly. she wrote about trust as a jar of marbles. 

when someone does something trusting, we add marbles to their jar, and when we are betrayed we take marbles out. she wrote:

When we think about betrayal in terms of the marble jar metaphor, most of us think of someone we trust doing something so terrible that it forces us to grab the jar and dump out every single marble. What’s the worst betrayal of trust? He sleeps with my best friends. She lies about where the money went. He/she chooses someone over me. Someone uses my vulnerability against me (an act of emotional treason that causes most of us to slam the entire jar to the ground rather than just dumping out the marbles.)

All terrible betrayals, definitely, but there is a particular sort of betrayal that is more insidious and equally corrosive to trust. In fact, this betrayal usually happens long before the other ones. I’m talking about the  betrayal of disengagement. Of not caring. Of letting the connection go. Of not being willing to devote time and effort to the relationship. The word betrayal evokes experiences of cheating, lying, breaking a confidence, failing to defend us to someone else who’s gossiping about us, and not choosing us over other people.

These behaviors are certainly betrayals, but they’re not the only form of betrayal. If I had to choose the form of betrayal that emerged most frequently from my research and that was the most dangerous in terms of corroding the trust connection, I would would say disengagement. When the people we love or with whom we have a deep connection stop caring, stop paying attention, stop investing and fighting for the relationship, trust begins to slip away and hurt starts seeping in.

Disengagement triggers shame and our greatest fears - the fears of being abandoned, unworthy, and unlovable. What can make this covert betrayal so much more dangerous than something like a lie or an affair is that we can’t point to the source of our pain - there’s no event, no obvious evidence of brokenness. It can feel crazy-making.

so what do we DO? how do we recover when we notice the marble jar is empty?

we trust ourselves in asking for what we need. we notice the people whose jars are over-flowing and we focus on those relationships. we let go of our fear of being abandoned and alone and we turn to our full-jarred relationships. because those are the people who will fill your life with more than simply marbles. 

as well as remembering my first betrayal, i also remember the first time someone had my back. it was my cousin D. i was the youngest kid on the street and all the older kids used to tease me and bully me. i had these shoes ... these really cool red plastic sandals. and the boys on the street would tease me by calling them orange. i know how dumb that sounds. i really do. but i was only 7 years old and it was one of the many things the boys did to make me cry. they seemed to take pleasure in my tears. tying me up to the tree with skipping ropes, trying to get me to eat poison berries ... anyway ... my cousin D was visiting. he is 3 years older than me, so he seemed like a big grown-up teenager to me though he was only 10. and he stood up to those boys and told them that the shoes were, in fact, red. RED. 

such a small thing. but it has stayed with me for 30 years. D remembers it too. his jar is over-flowing with marbles. 

who are your full-jar people? how do they add marbles to the jar? what will you do to add marbles to theirs?

be kind to yourself,

xoxo

...

embers

i have been thinking a great deal about embers. 

the embers have always been the best part of a campfire. the night is ending, the stars are bright above, the fire is dying out. the coals are hot and just right for toasting marshmallows. i like to watch the embers dance, even more than the actual fire itself. 

embers are hot and glowing. 

they emanate heat, despite not being a fire. they can burn themselves out, or they can rekindle a fire. embers are often used as metaphors for something that is dying out.

William Manchester wrote: “Abruptly the poker of memory stirs the ashes of recollection and uncovers a forgotten ember, still smoldering down there, still hot, still glowing, still red as red.”

the poker of memory stirs the ashes of recollection. yes. lately, i have been poking around in my memories, and stirring up feelings. feelings that have been smoldering inside me for many, many years. feelings that i have ignored or numbed myself from. feelings that i have shoved away, but that have made me what i am.

i was taught that i don’t deserve to be loved or taken care of. 

i was taught that i don’t need to stand up for myself; that i don’t matter. 

i learned that it was important to be independent and self-reliant; that it wasn’t okay to need anyone else; that i needed to be self sufficient and take care of my needs on my own. 

my basic needs were met. 

but not my emotional needs.

and as i look  back at my life, at the things that i didn’t get, at the messages that i DID get … the smoldering feelings are burning inside me. and it is hard to think about anything else.

that’s why i crawl into my cocoon and i want to stay in here for days at a time. i am scared of this ember and what a rekindled fire could look like.

and today, i don't have anything inspiring to tell you. i don't have any words of wisdom. all i have is my fear today.

xoxo

...

cocoon part 2 ... aka i am now in a state of goo

i have been taking the cocoon metaphor quite seriously these days. wrapping myself in blankets and avoiding the world as much as possible. i pictured myself in my cocoon, resisting the growing of wings ... but that eventually the wings would sprout and i would fly.

i pictured myself as this whole and intact fat little caterpillar sleeping my change away inside my cocoon. 

well imagine my surprise (enlightenment, awakening, shock, ah ha moment!!!) when i learned something new today:

apparently ... when a caterpillar spins a cocoon ... it turns into goo ... 

yes, you read that right: GOO !!!

i need to re-frame my entire metaphor of being inside my cocoon!

(all quotes in this blog are from Radiolab and can be heard in its entirety if you click here, quotes are from Molly Webster. you can learn more about her by clicking here)

"once the caterpillar gets into its shell ... they sort of just melt" 

it's cellular ... here's a short video ...

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

D sent me this podcast today. and it has left me with all sorts of spinning thoughts (get it? "spinning" thoughts ... ha ha):

http://www.radiolab.org/story/goo-and-you/


according to Webster, in the 1600s, naturalists believed that caterpillars spun the cocoon and died. and then a butterfly was reborn. "a spiritual accent." as if a butterfly was a representation of our souls accent to heaven.

the transformation is both mysterious and miraculous. 

and not at ALL what i have pictured my entire life, nor what i remember being taught in science class!

so basically ... a caterpillar spins a chrysalis and then pretty much melts into a soupy goo with microscopic bits of brain and nerves and stuff. the adult parts (antenna, wings ...) are transparent and they stay in the cocoon but don't get soupy in the goo. 

what is interesting is the idea of who comes out the other side of that goo. is it the same creature? if it pretty much dissolves and the cells restructure themselves into an entirely different creature - one who drinks nectar instead of eating leaves, one who flies - then is it the same creature? does it carry it's knowledge with it?

if i allow myself to have a total and complete melt(down) of all that i know about myself and all that i have the potential to become ... will it still be me who comes out the other side? 

based on an experiment with moths and zapping and a scent ... 

Full story and radio interview here: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=88031220

Prof. WEISS: The question that we asked is can a moth or a butterfly remember something that it learned as a caterpillar?NIELSEN: To find out, Weiss and her colleague Doug Blackiston put a lot of big, green tobacco hornworm caterpillars into the electric boxes and then gave them whiffs of stinky gas. Then Blackiston zapped them.Prof. WEISS: So that the caterpillars would get a little bit of smell, and then they'd get a shock, and you could tell that they noticed the shock. And I think he did it once an hour for eight hours.NIELSEN: Weiss says the caterpillars quickly learned that the stench would be followed by the jolt. As a result, the caterpillars wouldn't go near anything that smelled of ethyl acetate.Next, the researchers let the caterpillars start the process that would turn them into moths. One by one, these caterpillars disappeared into brown, urn-shaped pupal chambers that dissolve their bodies and their brains. Five weeks later, the moths hatched out. At that point, the researchers gave the moth a choice of fresh air or air that stank of ethyl acetate.Prof. WEISS: And wouldn't you know it, the moths that had learned to avoid ethyl acetate as larvae still avoided it as adults.NIELSEN: In other words, somehow, the caterpillar memories had survived the biological meltdown. 

 it was demonstrated through this experiment that "the memory made it through the goo and came out the other side." 

"it's kind of eerie ... it's not just what of me carries forward into the future ... it's like what of my future self is in me right now?"  

what of my future self is in me right now?

and so my re-framing begins ...

... i still feel like a caterpillar who doesn't want to come out of her cocoon. my warm blue duvet makes me feel safe and protected here on my couch. and i try to recreate that feeling when i leave the house. which hasn't been easy. 

and i still resist the changes that are happening. i still resist the inevitable growth of wings. 

and yet, i like the idea that the changes within me are on a cellular level - that it is within my very flesh, and bones, and neurpathways (thanks for that word AG) that change is occurring. 

... in order for real change to take place, as D said to me today, "you gotta to turn into goo" ...