"I Do Not Have a Gut....I Have Contours"

Yes.  I have contours.  I also would say, my contours bring on new meaning to a geographical map! I know I need to lose weight, and I have been trying, until this past summer.  Somehow, the distractions of finishing projects and closing down one place....purging years of sentimental paperwork, and packing what really DOES need to go to the new place....it seems to be a validation for not eating healthy, or working out.  A validation for that cheeseburger, for that package of M&Ms.

Truth.  Yeah...yeah...it's all a crock!  I just didn't WANT to work out.  I was exhausted from working full time, and trying to prepare to move, but the reality is...I let stress WIN!  I cannot let stress win again.  My doctor says....now is the time...you HAVE to...you MUST. I am in need of motor skills workout.  I say..."Motor skills workout?  What I am in need of....is a chocolate milkshake!"

I have to narrow all the thoughts about losing the weight, and building stamina and muscle to the simple tag line....I want to live!  And if "I Want To Live"....then I "Have To Do This"....what is necessary to truly live.  To live a healthier "me"....to live without falling so much, or dropping things so much, without losing my balance, or be afraid of stairs.  Because if what I have been doing is living....it is not enough. More than doing it for my kids...who are the catalyst to drive me to start my gym regime...it is for myself. I have to do this for myself.

So, this is my confession.  

"Hello Gym....my name is Lea. 

I....[long pause]....have a gut!!! 

And....[another long pause]....lovely contours. 

[I had to throw that last line in there...it sounds better!]

See....[long sigh]....that wasn't so hard.  

Shaken, Not Stirred

Movies from decades ago really do amuse me, but more so the dialogue you can discover in them.  Tonight, this tag line has come to mind...the old Bond one...."Shaken, Not Stirred".  Of course, they are talking about a martini.  To be stirred, the ice in the drink will harbor no major dings, and the alcohol would be, a little stronger.  Shaken, means to shake up the ingredients into a drink shaker, with ice.  But shaking up would, since it is a metal container, break off small pieces of the ice, and those tiny shards would melt into the drink....causing a slightly diluted martini.  It's all about preference, and the end result.  I am one to take something about...for example....a martini and a movie...to align it to something about life, itself.  I equate it to my own experiences, because, I guess....at the end of the day, we write about what we know most about...our own lives.

For me, I started out in life not even aware I had a glass...haha.  That age old...."the glass is half full...or...half empty."  As life dinged me along the way, I do think I was much like a martini in a glass that was stirred. Adversity and difficult times seemed to hurtle towards me like a massive strong, stirred martini.  But the beauty in age, is that there comes the time where you learn.  You learn how to forgive, you learn how to navigate relationships around you, you learn to speak with your voice, you learn you actually "have a voice", and most crucially, you learn to let go.  Letting go of the things you never had control of in the first place. Letting go of things that continually make you suffer, like love ending, harsh words, labeling, physical pain, and grief, from loss of loved ones.  You learn in letting go that you do still have a glass.  You have to be the one to begin filling it again. Shaken.  Shake your memories of adversity and suffering with ice....ice being the beautiful things in life.  Life and all that is amazing about it, can be the ice to mix up with all those bad and sorrowful memories, to dilute that pain. Shaken.  Shake every day.  Mix up with new memories, new experiences that make you smile, feel good about people again, that make you laugh.  New memories that build on the foundation of what you already have.  Enough ice....to dilute into a brand new substance in your glass....and that glass will surely become filled again.

I am not a therapist....I am not a psychiatrist.  I am a simple country girl, transplanted into a big city....who once held only broken pieces of glass in my hand.  Now, I am good.  Better than good....I am James Bond good.  My glass is full, and my drink....that drink of life....shaken.

I guess you could say...I'm Shaken, Not Stirred.

And Wings to Fly...

Look at this young man, so strapped down with bomber jacket, khakis, head covered, eyes protected, and wings....those beautiful wings.  I am reminded that inspiration is sometimes scarce!  We know we need it, but to find it, can become an impossible scavenger hunt.  Lucky for us, there are many ways to get your inspire groove ticking.  We can experience something audible, a song, like Eartha Kitt's, "Santa Baby"....or something visual, like "Morning Day On the Farm, by Grandma Moses. Inspiration can come at random times, by a friend, or even a stranger, simply by a kind gesture, or a simple quote.

I wonder...how can we inspire from within?  To have a sudden idea rise from nowhere, but one capable of making you feel elated, like you could conquer the world.  To have eyes of wonder at life, much like a little child.  I know for myself, I have been guilty of that age old....when this and that happens....THEN...I'll be happy.  Wow, the amount of time lost, and time I cannot get back. I honestly think that the moment you start "thinking about being happier"....that is the moment that you are NOT happy.  This is why I must change.  I must change inward...to change what happens outward. 

Looking at this little guy, above in the photo, reminds me of a time long ago, when I was a young teenager of 13.  I remember seeing a TV show that had a kid on a skateboard.  I was inspired!  I wanted that contraption!  I just knew I could balance myself, and glide right on down Ray Lane street.  But where to get one?  This is where I remember that elation feeling, you know, the one I was talking about above?  Yes, I conjured up a plan in my head to make my own skateboard.  When I told my Daddy, he looked at me, puzzled at first, then scratched his head....as if to make some time pass while he thought...then he went into his workshop and came out with a rough piece of wood.  He gave me that junk piece of wood and told me to build it.  Somehow, that wry look on his face...and to know Dempsey Butler, you would know it was a look of amusement.  I took that challenge!  I used my cheap, old pocket knife, and started by whittling.  That's right, I whittled that wood into the shape of the top of a skateboard.  I then found old sandpaper in Daddy's shop and started sanding down the corners to smooth all the corner edges.  I had a think-fest....this is where I thought for about 3 days how to make this contraption, and then realized I already had the wheels.  I had an old pair of metal roller skates.  I disassembled those old rusty skates, and then asked my Daddy for some metal brackets, nuts and screws and some tools.  Soon, I realized that I could build it.  It wasn't going to be new, it wasn't going to be colorful or shiny, and the wheels, as rusty as they were, would surely not glide down Ray Lane like a dream...but I knew I could finish what I started, and enjoy it for what it was.

I realize now, just how precious this story is to me.  Mostly, because my Daddy believed in me. I know he always did.  I also know that I somehow seemed to amuse him....even without trying.  I realize, and this is the most important part....that like the young man above in the photo...this boy was never going to REALLY fly, but to his imagination....he would fly the world.  Same here, I was never going to have a smooth ride, and those rusty wheels broke off my second run down that hill on Ray Lane....but....in my imagination...I was skateboarding the world.

Wings to fly.....that is what all of us need.  We just have to find ways to implement it into our lives.  The point is... be happy.  Be happy in the moment.  Be happy now.  Grab your wings...whether made of cardboard or wood, or those old rusty wheels on an odd shaped skateboard, and ride.  Ride like the wind...because it's a good day to be alive.

A Recipe For Love

I think I could be falling...

Love...it feels like you could be flying over the top of your city, and falling at the same time. Feeling that elation over someone that can make you feel happy, and sad, all in one day.  It can be described as a stomach that is full of hot pebbles, or a chest full of hummingbirds. 

So what is the recipe for love?  So many of us have gaps of time in our lives where love eludes us...feeling like we were on the wrong elevator, or something. Maybe I should have taken that other elevator, the one where everyone is smiling and having a good time....the one where couples step off and out it's doors....hand in hand. We hope, we anticipate, then in enough space in time we realize that we are happiest, right here in the moment of being single.  We are all a work in progress. Some of us, like me, for instance, a big work in progress. I have to learn to love myself, real love for who I am. It sounds easy, but in a lifetime that has spanned my own, not easy for me. I am progressing, and I do love myself today. I am not all the way there. My teenage son is quick to tell me when my self esteem falters. He knows me best. He has heard me in the night, crying, and has seen how I sometimes throw the red carpet over myself so that I may accommodate people to walk all over me. It's like..."Here, please walk all over me, and to make your trip more comfortable, please use the red carpet..."

So what is the recipe for love?

The recipe starts with "you".  You must love yourself, be of strong heart and convictions, know who you are, and where you come from. You must address your baggage. That doesn't mean check your baggage in, and have carry on. For me, I relate "baggage" to the bad stuff. There is always bad stuff that happens to us, along life's path.  I remember someone saying, "you must find the person with matching luggage."  I believe that is not the case...at least not for me. It does sound cute, but I have felt it necessary to address my own personal walk of life and deal with the bad stuff that I have had to experience. 

You must be a "friend".  This is a crucial item to my recipe.  How can you build on a relationship, if you are not friends?  You must be a friend, and reach out as a friend.  Know each other.  Know when things are tough, and be a friend during those times, as well as the great times. You need to know when to cut a joke, and lighten someone's day. Have a smile...make a smile. Hold someone's hand, when it is a really bad day. 

Simmer the pot. The pot is the container for all those pieces of yourself and pieces of your friendship. Simmering takes time, it takes a mindful approach, and it takes loving care. I tell the female students at my High School, that they are a "flower".  A flower must be tended to, nurtured, and treated gently.  A man that does treat them gently, and with care, would damage them, much like rough treatment would damage a flower's petals.  I then, break it down into street talk. But...they get the picture.

So, to recap....What is the Recipe For Love?  Love is what you make it.  A whole cup of self, folded into a whole cup of friendship....simmer on low...and Mama thinks it will surely be a glorious dish of love.

And me?  Well, let's just say I'm in the kitchen....nothing simmering yet, but I have all the ingredients ready. Good Night all, this has been just a little midnight love...from me...to you.  

Reviving The Blog!

I am victorious, if only for the day!  After taking a year plus time away from blogging, I have stepped back into the realm.  Life happens, we all know that, but it has been a tough year for me, a time away from placing my thoughts or sharing my ideas onto a virtual share space. Facebook, has taken center stage these past 14 months, and though I do not regret it, because it has connected me in many ways to family all around, I need this.  I need something to share a piece of myself with.  If I have learned one thing this past year, it has been to wrap around those you love....they can be gone from this earth in an instant.  So, all of you great folk, will now get my Sugar Moon virtual wrap-a-round hugs!  

Please comment, don't be shy, and I welcome all topic ideas....let's talk!
I look forward to what this year in blogging can bring.  Now raise your arms.....and wave them around....and say..."We are alive, and we are here!"  

A Space of Being...

My daughter and I watched an old movie called "Princesse Tam-Tam", starring Josephine Baker. Filmed in 1935, it certainly reflected the comedy, dialogue and tone of that era in history.  It was a screenplay loosely portraying a 'Pygmalion' story.  My daughter and I found ourselves quiet throughout the first part, then laughing through the middle, and lastly, feeling offended by the lead male's character wife and racist friends near the end of the movie.  The movie did end on a beautiful note, thank goodness, and all the mixed emotions throughout the movie's story, seemed to blend into one of a common thread between us....awareness.

It was a different time back in the earlier years of the 20th century, and though our nation has come far through decades of civil unrest, advocacy for justice and fair treatment for all...racial equity has still, in 2015, not been achieved.

Social media lends us a window view of all the hate that still exists in this world.  The judgements, intolerance, and loss of understanding, and the loss of respect.  We are given this gift of life...and us who are warriors have entered life on this earth in difficult times. It is our gift of free will that gives us opportunity to believe.  To be an individual of hope, and a person of faith.  It is up to us.  We must be the change that this world needs.  And when we see a film, or experience a play, or music concert that moves us, or affects us....it is important to experience all that the moment of artistry gives...it can be the catalyst for deeper thinking, it can be the voice to motivate, and like today, it can be the reminder that my work here on this earth is not near done. I dream of a world where prejudice does not exist, and where inequality is simply something that the "old days" held...a journey of history.  A safer world for my children to navigate, as adults, and for my grandchildren to grow up in.  Where differences are celebrated...and color means nothing more than the skin tone...as Josephine quoted below.  A space of being, and of acceptance.

"Surely the day will come when color means nothing more than the skin tone, when religion is seen uniquely as a way to speak one's soul; when birth places have the weight of a throw of the dice and all men are born free, when understanding breeds love and brotherhood."  ~Josephine Baker

Flying Into The Heart of The Matter...

“Angels can fly directly into the heart of the matter….” ~Author Unknown

I believe in angels. I know they are among us, in quiet moments, as much as in life’s busy moments. I believe that an angel must have prompted an elderly woman to connect with me and speak to me. I was getting off the bus two weeks ago and I had a clumsy time of it….and I bumped into an elderly woman I had never seen before. She had thin silver hair twisted in chignon on top of her head, but small wisps ran wildly all around her face. She had a tinkly soft laugh, like jingle bells. Her eyes were blue, and that is something I remember most, she had really blue eyes.

As I bonked into her, she tinkly laughed as we both got off at the same bus stop. We stood waiting at the crosswalk light and I mentioned the weather and the fact that it wasn’t raining. I loved that about that day – no rain. She spoke of the joy in the day that she finds. She said she came from a sorrowful divorce of many years ago, and that it changes a person. When bad things happen, it changes you. She seemed to know that I had been through something, because she told me that I was changed. I said…”Excuse me?” And she let out another tinkling laugh, and said…God doesn’t cause us to change…he doesn’t orchestrate bad things to happen….he just stands beside us as we change from pain. She looked at my shaking hand and said, you must write. I said “What?” “Write what?, I said” She said….”You already know, my dear.” You must write what you know…because it’s valuable.” “Once you write, well….it’s there, isn't it?”

Yes, I have been through a lot…I guess I do know some things about life. As I told her this, her tinkling laugh sounded off like jingle bells one last time, as we crossed the walk together. As we parted ways, she exclaimed with her back turned to me, and hand raised in air…”Write.” “Your pen is waiting…”

And I haven’t seen her since that time.