Dear John Letter to 60 Abigail Street

Farewell Abigail,

with your sweet

and sour memories tucked

up in corners and behind eyes

shut tight.

Facades emblazoned

with words of truth

and comfort.

Wildfires rage

in angry desolation.

With pretty little flames

licking the stars.

Bright.

Goodbye, Abigail,

good girl with

arms wide shut.

Embracing all that is true

and distrusted.

I lock you. Up.

For good time's last moment.

Turn the key.

Click.

Click. Heels walk quickly.

Glad our hellos shall never

greet again.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 17: Radical Acceptance

I grew up hearing the saying over and over again: "That which does not break you, makes you stronger." But I've grown to believe this frame of mind is very harmful and anxiety provoking to my physche: make it happen or you will be broken. Sure, you get stronger, I guess, but typically not in the moment that you are broken. It may take a few days, weeks, or, in my case, years to feel that there is a message in this madness called "life".

I learned a term the other day that has brought my search for a meaningful life to the next level: radical acceptance. In essence, this term means: "Letting go of fighting reality." (http://www.wikipedia.org/) Basically, you accept how things are even if you don't agree with them and live in harmony with your struggles. This frame of mind goes hand-n-hand with the "it is what it is" attitude.

I am eternally dealing with this mindset on a daily basis. In the uncontrollable midst of life, I constantly try to figure out, not what I CAN change, but what I WANT to change. I try to twist and fight and exhaust every effort to make things the way I want them to be. This action results in a lot of disappointment, angst, and anxiety....and, boy, does it make me tired. I have also learned that when I am in the throws of an upheaval, I really can't think about other people: it is too overwhelming for me, so I tend to focus on what I need to do to pull myself up. While trying to get pregnant with both my children (thank you, God, for them) I suffered several miscarriages. I know people meant well by telling me their or other people's horror stories that were either equal to or worse than mine. You know what, these stories made me feel worse because then I was worrying about my situation and everyone else I heard about. The best response, I think, is "I am so sorry this happened to you." A basic, caring statement is all that is needed to help someone feel supported and achieve radical acceptance.

In living a mindful life, I am trying to embrace radical acceptance and come to terms with those things I don't agree with but can't change. Maybe it is a delayed flight or a natural disaster that causes great damage to your home. Maybe it is a grumpy check out person at the grocery store or bad service at a restaurant. Maybe it is worse; maybe it isn't so bad. Whatever it is that causes you to live in struggle, not matter how small, deserves to be radically accepted. Not because you are thrilled it happened. Not because you think it happened for a reason. Not because you believe it will make you stronger. But because for the now it allows you to live in peace with chaos.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 16: Living in the Gray

One aspect I am working on in trying to live a more mindful life is finding comfort in the gray. I prefer a black and white life: unwavering decisions, obvious paths, and absolute knowledge. Indecision makes me anxious, forks in the road nervous and the unknown scares me like nothing else.
But I am realizing that life isn't really painted with such clear cut colors: it is variegated with shades of gray and be-speckled with glorious dots of black and white. In order to feel content and rest in my peace, I have to learn to exist in a dappled life.
For me, this is a daily struggle, and, perhaps, and hourly one. I constantly assess what I can and cannot change or control. I can't control flight cancellations, weather, or someone else's feelings. I can't change time, my children's personality, or even how someone reacts to me. When something "gray" happens that makes my heart race, brow sweat or knees knock, it all comes back to taking a moment, a breath and a reality check.
Luck comes to those who not only live in the gray but also survive, dare I say, thrive in the gray. The lucky ones take change as a blessing. They rejoice when they have choices. And when a door closes, they walk up to the next one and pound on it as hard as they can. Those of us who fight the gray and try to stay in the lines are blind to the gifts that living in the gray affords us.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson15: Click it or Risk it

On March 2, 1995, my brother made a choice that changed the course of his life: he put on his seat belt. Less than a hour later, his truck flipped several times and was completely totaled along with his face and head. He was left hanging upside down amidst the rubble. I will leave out all the drama and the gory details of finding out, sleeping in the waiting room and seeing him for the first time, the only recognizable piece of his body to me was his hand laying on the hospital bed. I won't tell you how his face needed reconstruction . I won't explain the rehabilitation and the hours my family spent by his beside. The story in a nutshell it is by the grace of God and the strength of a seat belt that my brother survived. Now every March 2nd, instead of mourning his death, we celebrate his "Rebirth Day."

Last week, a local man died. He was driving home from work in the rain and was about a mile from his home. He hydroplaned, had a wreck, and died. He didn't have on his seat belt. The authorities stated that all he needed to do was click in and he would have lived.

So in living a mindful life, take a moment each time you get in the car and, no matter how far you have to drive, secure your seat belt.

If you don't, you could take the biggest risk of your life.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 14: Acid Washed Jeans & High-tops

Being mindful of others' likes & dislikes is a challenging mindful tool to learn...especially with my children. I always want to instill my opinions and thoughts about everything. That's fine when it is about morals or drugs or religion and stuff that I feel really matters in their development. BUT should I really try to control every bit, especially the little parts that make up who they want to be at that moment?

When I was young, (well, not kid young but tween/teen young) I more often than not wore clothes that my mom didn't like. She would buy me matchy-matchy outfits and then look at me in dismay when I wanted to return them or if I would mix them up in different ways. It was my goal never to wear the same complete outfit twice and I was quite successful.

Side bar: This notion is so funny to me today because now I will wear the same outfit several times in a row--basically whatever happens to be on the floor by the toilet when I wake up. (Note to my Mother: I do; however, put on clean underwear.)

Any way, so Mom eventually started letting me pick out my own clothes...or at least some of them. I had these paint splatter capri pants and several pairs of acid washed jeans that I would either peg leg with my handy sewing machine or would simply do the fold and roll. If you grew up in the 80s, you know exactly what I'm talking about. In college, I moved onto an even more disturbing look for my Mom: short, short hair, no make up, white v-neck t-shirts, pegged jeans and pink high-tops that I had decorated with a Sharpie marker (both the jeans and shoes) and written my boyfriend's name on. I thought I was sooooooooo artsy and cool.

So the other day, my husband took my son (almost 11) to buy new every day sneakers. I finally started getting him just one pair because his feet grow so fast, it is just a waste for him to have more than one. Up until that day, I had just bought shoes for him while I was out shopping. They were typically white, regular sneakers and the brand depended on what was on sale at the time. For some reason, I actually thought that he would come back with a similar type shoe and it never occurred to me to give my husband any directions or shopping boundaries.

My son is wearing his new shoes when he comes in and I looked at them and had the fastest mindful moment I think I have ever had. There he stood in these black leather high-top sneakers...the kind all the "thugs & druggies" wore at my high school. After over 20 years, they still make these awful shoes?? My initial reaction was to tell him to get those ugly things off his feet & return them immediately. But my mindful little voice quickly chimed in, "Don't react, don't say anything negative. You told him to pick out his own shoes. And he did." He said with a grin: "Dad said you probably wouldn't like these, but I really do, Mom." My response (with a smile, I might add) was: "Honey, I told you to pick them out. If they make you happy then they are perfectly fine." Then I thought, "Thank goodness his feet grow fast. Besides that, at least he isn't wearing them with acid washed jeans."