On this same day every year

On this same day every year, I compile the “Forever List.” This annual list is a sort of to-do list or agenda for the upcoming year that consists of things I’d like to accomplish in the year, and things, once accomplished, that would deem the year a successful one. I have no idea why I titled it the “Forever List” except that perhaps when I started it 16 years ago, maybe a year felt like forever. Maybe I named it the “Forever List” because completing the items on the list would mean peace, joy, and fulfillment forever. Or, maybe it was the “Forever List” because in actuality the things on the list would take forever and writing them down was just a start. Very honestly, I don’t have much memory about why I did most of the things I did 16 years ago; some stuff is just a blur. Nonetheless, the name of my annual program of activities has stuck.

Sixteen years ago, my first “Forever List” was, for me, ambitious. It included things like

∙ keep in touch with friends and family ∙ exercise 3x/week for 1 hour ∙ take the
dogs to the vet ∙ read Shakespeare, study Socrates, Kant, and Thurman ∙ find a
handbell choir ∙ organize books and music ∙ learn to embroider ∙ sew buttons on
clothes ∙ make some kimonos and kaftans ∙ drink herbal teas ∙ learn how to use a
reciprocal saw ∙

And, while that year, I did learn to use a reciprocal saw and drank one glass of herbal tea, Shakespeare, Socrates, Kant and I have still yet to be fully acquainted; buttons, kaftans, and kimonos never saw any needle of mine; and, let’s just say the dogs may have lived to the next year had we gone to the vet that year.

Over the past 16 years, I’ve completed most things on each year’s “Forever List.” I’ve attended to those big ones – you know, things like ∙ seek Him daily ∙ create a comfortable home ∙ find a job that I love ∙ have a healthy baby ∙ meet the man with whom I can have a loving, lasting, and mature relationship with ∙ – those things have received my attention and I’ve marked them off the lists because they’re now givens or everyday, expected, and natural occurrences. There’s no more planning for them, I just have to continue to provide devoted and deliberate maintenance along the way. There are other big things I’ve lined through so, structurally, I’m solid, painted up real neat, and, for the most part, my landscape is lush.

But as I reflect on the past 15 lists, I realize that many of the items not scratched through have been left completely unaddressed – okay, ignored – year after year and they’ve sort of snowballed into what are now HUGE items! I’m talking about things that have received a consistent, abundant, and abrasive amount of neglect, so much so that without real, immediate, almost emergency attention, this well erected edifice of mine, with its fine trappings, prettifications, and side dishes, will turn into a mere shell. In other words, if in 2010, I don’t look and work within, I’m going to fall apart limb by beautiful limb. So, I surmise that the things that have been intentionally left unattended are the real candidates for the 2010 list.

Eek, argh, ugh, and sheesh – because cutting cussing is on that List!

Those consciously disregarded items have always given me a chill because, geez, they’re heavy. They require a lot of work, a lot of upheaval. Paying attention to those things in some cases means revisiting some ancient and hurtful places, and even demolishing some of what seems to be currently working. What a frightening task! How harrowing and wearisome! Who in their right mind would willingly go to the places that are ugly and rotten? I mean, seriously, who wants to dig up, dig deeper, and dig through the moistness of sadness, shame, and unrequited fear? Who has the cast-iron makeup to examine all that stuff with a fine-toothed comb and persistent alertness and attentiveness? Who wants to be striped to the core, raw and chaffed, with the even harder task of putting yourself back together the right way?

Not I, saith I. But I have to because I haven’t. I have to because it’s necessary.

Iyanla Vanzant said,

“What are you waiting for? With all you say you want, there is a dream for you
to follow; a goal for you to set; a plan for you to make; a project for you to
begin; an idea for you to act on; a possibility for you to explore; an
opportunity for you to grab; a choice for you to make. If not, you shouldn't
have anything to talk about.”

In order that life be more interesting and satisfying, more purposeful, and certainly more accommodating for my plethora of embellishments, it is imperative that I dig up and dig through. Because real living requires more than a cursory dance across life’s surface, it is compulsory that I explore and dismember the messes I made. Because I’ve got so much more to give to the people I love, I ain’t got no choice but to get myself together. And, because I seek Him daily, there is no miserable or heartbreaking place that I’ll go that God’s not with me, carrying me, comforting me, and making it all right. I resolve that there is no other thing I can do unless I do what I have not done.

Thus, the things on the “2010 Forever List” include only these -

∙ heal from some dreadful situations ∙ look into the next era of me ∙ cut the
cussing ∙ pare down, out ∙ bring 2010 and beyond into life ∙

It’s a very broad list, but it’ll all reveal itself. I don’t know what it’ll all look like. I don’t know all I’ll have to sweat, cry, and breathe through. I do know, though, what it’ll all do for me and that alone, this time, is enough to get me on the road. In 2010, I’m requiring more of myself because I have to. I’m putting up or shutting up, pissing or getting off the pot. I’m not waiting, I can’t wait any longer. Selah and amen!

Wait, pissing is not a cuss word is it?

If at first you don't succeed

If at first you don't succeed, redefine success.-- Rob Brezsny

The standard definition of success in America has been to live in a big house in the suburbs – or, now, in these cosmopolitan times, to live in a posh and architecturally clever urban loft with high ceilings, a brilliant view of the city’s skyline through picturesque windows, and amenities usually reserved for only the finest hotels; drive a luxury vehicle, possibly of Japanese, German or even Italian origin; have 2.5 children – with a doting and faithful spouse, of course; and earn a butt-kicking 6-figure salary at a top-performing Fortune 100 company. To some, anything less is preposterous, intolerable, and so unsophisticated.

Aren’t you glad it’s just “some?”

And, have you ever actually met anybody with half a kid?

(Have you ever met the person who grew up being the half kid?… Okay, that’s another “Thought…,.”)

In this day of a flattened and sluggish economy, success might still look like the standard definition for the “some” people. But for the majority of us people, it’s less of that and more of something else.

Perhaps for the rest of us, success looks like living in a home that, at a minimum, is clean, comfortable, and reasonably priced. Perhaps success is being able to look around your home and appreciate the things that are valuable to you. Maybe success is that you have decent and appropriate clothes for work AND leisure because you work hard and get to play in return, and you have enough good food to feed your family healthy and nutritious meals.

Perhaps success for you is watching your family grow and participate in the many elements that make life interesting and purposeful. Maybe success means involving your kids in an array of activities so they can experience diverse and mind-stretching opportunities, even when you have to drive all over town 6 days a week. And, at times, success may simply be driving a minivan – to accommodate your kids, their stuff, the dog, and their friends – on a full tank of gas.

Or maybe success may be as simple as managing your money well, leaving no bill behind, and paying for everything with cash. Boy, couldn’t America use some success in that manner. Then we’d all be living in lofts with partial kids.

Maybe success for you is that you have a job that pays which means that you can live with dignity and not be accused of wanting a handout or pity. Even if the job doesn’t pay much, success for you is that you can hold your own and contribute to the financial well-being of society. Success may even be as simple as walking into the bank this afternoon and telling the bankers to cash your itty-bitty check ‘cause you worked hard for every measly cent!

And, then, maybe success is, tonight, taking some of your earnings, sending the kids to their friend’s house, buying your drink of choice, preparing yourself a healthy and nutritious meal, kicking back in your clean, comfortable, and priced right home, and not having a care in the world about anybody else’s definition of success. Bang the loft with a city view, the Germans, and any number of kids, success is right where you are.

Imagine that your life is a giant wheel with spokes

Imagine that your life is a giant wheel with spokes that reach out and touch every area of your life - work, relationships, family, community, health. At the center of this wheel is a core of knowledge, wisdom and experience called You. The more rooted you are to this center, the more connected you'll be to your values, needs and desires - and your life will take on a deeper sense of meaning and purpose.
-- Cheryl Richardson

I’d been searching for THE PERFECT grilled cheese sandwich. That’s right, a grilled cheese sandwich. Cheese, bread, and butter melted together just so. Maybe a pickle on the side.

I searched all over town – the parts of town with the most eclectic eateries that were certain to specialize in fancy breads and cheeses, and the parts of town where you’d need to get your bread and cheese and get out of there before dark. The fancy places made their grilled cheese sandwiches with sourdough or rye breads, flatbreads or any variation of whole grain breads. The cheeses – all of them fresh – ranged from Muenster and Gouda to Brie and Gorgonzola. All of them were sprinkled with some sort of spice for that extra tang – which of course you must have because why else would you want to buy a grilled cheese sandwich at a fancy eating place but for the tang and spice, right? I had quite a few of those upmarket cheese sandwiches; they were very good. But, there was always something not quite right, always something missing.

At the not-so-fancy restaurants, the grilled cheese sandwiches consisted of Cheddar or American cheese, maybe some Swiss, Monterey, or Pepper Jack cheese, slapped haphazardly – and only slightly melted – between bread. And when I say bread, I mean just bread, nothing elaborate or expensive. One restaurant plopped some processed cheese between a couple pieces of Wonder Bread – I saw the red, yellow, and blue circles on the bread bag – and told me to have a nice day. Another restaurant made me a blackened hoecake with their logo burned into it. I knew it was their logo because of the indentations on the press they used to set and smash my poor little sandwich.

I even ordered a kids’ meal grilled cheese sandwich thinking that something so simple would be made to please. I turned that place in to Children’s Services for cruelty to children.

I finally came to a conclusion. Either no one knew what a real grilled cheese sandwich should look and taste like, or, perhaps, I wanted too much. I have been guilty of such.

So, endlessly craving a grilled cheese sandwich, and not satisfied with what I’d found anywhere, I grabbed the tried-and-true skillet I inherited from my aunt, got the honey wheat bread, cheddar cheese, and salty butter – yes, salty butter! – from my frig and commenced to making me a grilled cheese sandwich.
Now, I’ve made grilled cheese sandwiches forever and ever on my stove but at that moment it occurred to me that I made the greatest grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever tasted! I had all the ingredients and I could make it the way I wanted it.

Making my sandwich in my kitchen, I realized I didn’t have to wait in restaurants for somebody to create their version of a good grilled cheese sandwich. I didn’t have to wait for someone else to put my bread and cheese together; I could get that right for myself and better than they could for me. And while there was nothing wrong with waiting for the cooks to fix my sandwich, I could cook too, and I knew my sandwich was worth the wait.

Making my sandwich meant paying attention to what I really liked. It meant paying attention to the ingredients I used and how much of them I added. My sandwich was made with care and, if it wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it, I could start over and make it again. I could even get my cookie cutter from the drawer and make a Christmas tree shaped grilled cheese sandwich if that’s the way I wanted it. Couldn’t get that at the canteens about town.

Making my grilled cheese sandwich was not fancy; I didn’t include any French breads, German cheeses, or Italian spices. The only effort it took was putting to use what I already had. Standing over the stove was more than a notion for me – cooking is not my gig – but the outcome was satisfying when I sat at my little table and took that first scrumptious bite. Never again have I needed to have a grilled cheese sandwich from anywhere but my own house. I have everything I need.

For months I’ve been screaming about order

For months I’ve been screaming about order – where is it, who took it, and what can I do to get it back? I know I’ve had it because, once upon a time, I could think clearly, breathe freer, and walk through a room without stepping on a thingamajig randomly left here or a thingamabob haphazardly placed there.

I’ve been looking for order in my home, trying desperately to pare down what my baby and I have lived with for far too long. The stuff in my home – the clothes I’ve held onto hoping to wear again; the books I’ve read still on the bookshelves waiting for another reader to discover; the knick-knacks we’ve collected now collecting dust; and let’s not mention the random papers that come in and out of the house everyday – not only weighs my house down, but it weighs us down too. But, after a few moved bookcases, a shredding binge, and several trips – sometimes daily – to the recycling bin and donation sites, I found that the need to order is much bigger than cleaning and clearing my house.

Psychologists – or anybody with good sense for that matter – will tell you the stuff around you is an indication of the stuff inside you; if it’s messy outside, you’ve got to be a wreck inside. Many other mental health professionals would argue that chronic disorder is a sign of ADHD or depression, that behind such disorganization hide grave feelings of inadequacy and fears we’ve yet to address and conquer, and merely “straightening up” is simple window covering. There are many of us who gather stuff in order to keep the world from really seeing who we are or who we’re not, and there’re many others who live on top of the stuff because doing otherwise would upset our who applecart. So as I look around my house, even as close as the desk from which I type, I have to ask myself some serious questions about what’s really going on deep inside.

Excuse me while I attempt to organize some papers...

I’m not ADHD or clinically depressed, and I have very few feelings of lack. I’ve got some fears, but, like most people’s, those fears are manageable. But I am convinced that order is not about the stacks and piles of paper or unworn clothing hiding out in the closet. I believe it’s about being aligned mind, body, and soul.

So how do you get all of you aligned accordingly? How do you get your emotions, physical health and appearance, and your spiritual life in sync?

Of course you first have to realize that each realm is dependant upon the others, and that when one is out of whack, the other two will certainly suffer the same fate, and vice versa. And then you must realize that the process of becoming aligned is an on-going, life-long practice. One year you may be lined up very well and have all of your Self in great operating order. But the next year, you live so disharmoniously with yourself you hardly recognize the person in the mirror. Keeping your whole self in order is like the ebb and flow of the ocean or like going to the chiropractor – one time won’t keep you straight, you have to keep going back. You have to keep paying attention. You have to be intentional. You have to give yourself room to be human and a work in progress. You can’t beat yourself up because everything is in disarray and you don’t seem to have the sense God gave you to get it all lined up and in order.

Unless disorder drives you absolutely crazy in the first place, in which case means you don’t have this problem and this post is just confirmation of everything you’ve always said about those of us who can’t keep it together. Bless your heart. You should teach some classes.

Wherever order went, I invite it and the peace it brings back. I’m anxious to see what it looks like. Until then, let me get back to those papers.

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.-- Alice Walker’s “Shug Avery” from The Color Purple

It rained really hard here today. Hail smacked the window, water eroded the soil around my sidewalk, and you could barely see through the sheaths of rain coming down. At one time, the winds were so high and fierce, the maple’s tree limbs were threatening to break and hit the house. The lights flickered and stopped this post for a few brief minutes, and it got so dark, I almost climbed back in bed.

I’m still tempted to do that...

But now the rain storm has passed. It’s lighter outside, they’re no swaying trees, and the sky has stopped all that loud clapping. Blake, my black lab, has settled down, and is actually napping. The birds have returned and I even see a couple of white butterflies. Everything outside looks well watered and refreshed. That’s the beauty of the rain storm after the storm.

But as I look out on the dripping trees and grass, I wonder what I missed in the moments of the storm. Did I fail to notice that as the wind was angrily blowing the tree’s limbs, the leaves seemed to cup the raindrops it caught? Did I miss the way the tree itself seemed to stand taller enjoying the bath it received after a hot and humid early morning?

And, why, when it was hot and muggy this morning, did I not pay attention to how it was effecting my body, that perhaps the humidity made my 2-mile walk longer and heavier and my mental capacity and mood sluggish and sulky? Perhaps that’s why I want to go back to bed.

Well, I know how I missed it. I was in a hurry to get it all over with – the rain, the walk, everything. I was also preoccupied with this on my mind and that thought over there. So, in my hurry and with my mind somewhere else, I know I missed many of the things God put here for us to see and appreciate.

I think God is not only disturbed that we don’t notice the flowers and the trees, God is probably also irritated when we don’t notice the beauty of and on the whole earth. We don’t hear the songs of the birds or the trickles of the water in the rain puddles. We miss the expressions on the faces we see each day; we miss being aware of our inner voice, and we especially miss taking notice of the real needs of those closest to us. We hear what’s on the surface and in the sound bites, living only on the surface and off the sound bites, leaving the sensing of the substance for the poets and the days when we’re forced to be still. If I were God I’d be pissed off. It can’t be easy making the daylilies’ blooms yellow, red, pink and purple. It’s certainly couldn’t have been simple to craft your personality and mine. And in no way is it an uncomplicated act to make a cold front meet a warm front and create a powerful storm and the sun still be shining through. Heck yeah, if I was God, I’d be so pissed I’d make everything dark so you couldn’t see anything.

But I’m not God and that ain’t God... Thank you, God.

Right now, the sun is out; I guess it’s really not a time for sleeping or missing what God’s got going on outside. I’m going out there to see what I can see. Don’t you miss it.

This morning, I sat in the beautiful and gracefully inviting garden

This morning, I sat in the beautiful and gracefully inviting garden of one of my dearest friends. I drank refreshing raspberry lemonade from a wine glass, got my locs eyeballed by a sneaking spider, had my ankle sized up by a seasoned bumblebee, and talked about life and the love of it in a way that can only be discussed in a garden over lemonade with the elements and a wise friend.

Much of our time was spent marveling at the way nature thrives when it’s loved and nurtured. Her petunias, the sedum, the cactus with fresh bulbs, and the orange hibiscus were luscious and breathtaking because of the care she’d taken in making their home serene and generous with just what they needed. Sitting among this life, I couldn’t help but think of how my friend’s garden so mimicked her life and the one many of us are trying to capture and create. My friend’s life is sheathed by simplicity, creativity, and contentment, traits that are all too fleeting if not totally vanished.

Lots of us spend our lives working on and toward the “ideal” life – one full of material wealth gained from working in this career or taking that job so we could acquire even more wealth. We’ve tucked away a bit here and there for our golden years so we’d have cushion to live on, travel the world if we like, and leave something to our children. It is, of course, important in this day and age to make a nest egg for ourselves and to have money and benefits enough to live on. We’re living longer lives so it’s imperative we have what we need when we enter the years after retirement from active work or whatever it is we did when we were younger.

But, we do all that at the expense of overwork, stress and its effects on our health, and the missed chance of watching daisies grow on the patio. Are we working too hard and too much to watch something as simple as the substance of a garden in bloom? Are we doing too much that we only demand our children be this because of that, and living with them in fear of this moment and a dubious and difficult tomorrow instead of encouraging them to bloom and be inspired by their innate abilities? Are you working so hard to keep your ends met that you’ve let wither that brainchild you’ve flowered for years, the one that could sprout and spread if you’d turn loose the safe yet predictable job you’ve held onto for years, the idea that haunts you and screams aloud that you should be doing it instead of working for someone else?

Of course I’m the last person who’d balk at comfort and predictability; I’m a teacher with a relatively dependable salary, benefits, and 2 months of down time. How much more predictable can you get?

But the point is, all the hard work, degrees, money saved, and things we’ve gathered aren’t getting us closer to simplicity or happiness. And there’s very little creativity attached to any of it.

When I left my friend’s, I ended up at a little pizzeria that lauded making your food fresh at the time of your order which gave me time to reflect on my visit in the garden. None of my thoughts really came together until I read a poster on the wall. Some of it read –

“The paradox of our time in history is that we ... spend more, but have less;
buy more, but enjoy it less; have more conveniences, but less time... We have
multiplied our possessions, but reduced our value. We talk too much, love too
seldom, and hate too often. We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We’ve added years to life, not life to years... It is a time when there is much
in the show window and nothing in the stockroom. It is a time when we can choose
either to make a difference or languish in the paradox.”

Today I’m choosing the simple. I’m paring it down and out. And, perhaps if more of us sought what was simple and uncomplicated, our collective creativity could soar and we may even find contentment, or at least something to genuinely smile and feel good about. Or, perhaps it’s not that clear-cut; maybe there’s a lot more to it than simplicity and happiness. After all, you still have the creepy spiders, the menacing bumblebees, the rocky economy, and all the other stuff that can make life unpleasant and scary. But does that mean you can’t enjoy the garden, even till your own special place to breathe in and create newness? I refuse to think so.