Twas the Day After Christmas....

 

....and here at my house, 

the sweet old dogs were snoring, 

(and definitely not quiet as a mouse)

~~~~~~

I sit at my computer, with the sounds of my Sweet Annie and Zoe, 
their breathing coming in and out like ocean waves...

the wind is strong, and the waves are big and loud.

I can almost feel the movement, like riding on a big boat in a choppy sea...

up and down and back and forth, a symphony of breath.

Until someone walks by in the hall and wakes them up.

The little one sits up and looks out to where she heard the sound, 

sleepy in her soft pajamas, she wobbles a little before snuggling back down.

The big one just lifts her head, looks at me, and then settles back to sleep.

Soon Zoe coos as she curls back into a ball, 

and then their breathing deepens again and the sounds of the ocean come back to life.

~~~~~~

Writing this blog is still an exercise in humility and questioning my motives. Why "share" what I write? What do I hope to gain? Anything? Is it worth the time to type and post, even if no one else reads it? Why bother? 

And again, the answer is still yes, it is worth the time, for me. Perhaps no one else will read it, but it is still positive energy to put out into the world. And that positive energy is still worth sharing. 

Writing, like other forms of art, is still valuable even if it is only appreciated by the creator of that art. Creative energy is positive energy, and that is inherently good. I don't have to be famous in order to be valuable. What I write doesn't have to be perfect, or even amazing, for it to have value. 

My December 2020 Thich Nhat Hanh Calendar page has this: 

"Words can travel thousands of miles.

May my words create mutual understanding and love. 

May they be as beautiful as gems, as lovely as flowers."

That is my goal. But if I fall short, may it still be worth the effort. 

☮♡☯

 

Welp....my turn to Quarantine

 

So, it is a good 9 months into the Pandemic, and I have been happily Introverting and mostly staying away from people. But I made a few exceptions, and...oops. Yesterday I was told that someone I was in "close contact" with two days before that tested positive for COVID-19. So now it's my turn to really quarantine. 

The good news is that I was well-masked during the "close contact", and that person was masked as well. There was a good-quality air purifier in the room, and good sanitary protocols were followed. See, I am a massage therapist and I had chosen to work on a very small number of clients, knowing that they were tested frequently and being extra careful. I knew there was still a risk, but I chose to take that risk. Now, I will find out if the masking and cleaning were sufficient to stave off that risk. 

I am hopeful that I am healthy enough and lucky enough to not get sick. And if I do, hopeful that my body will be able to fight off the virus. But I have to admit it is a little scary.

The greater risk for me - other than my own health risk - is that I am my 85 year-old mother's caretaker. She doesn't live with me, but I buy all her groceries and drive her to appointments. I just re-scheduled a medical appointment that she had scheduled for next week, in hopes that I will make it through the quarantine and be able to take her to the new date and time. And fortunately I had just done some shopping for her a couple days before I was in contact with the now-positive person. And I do know that if I do get sick there are other options to help my mom (just not her preference). 

So here I am, looking at the calendar, and hoping that I will get through the next week to 10 more days without any symptoms, and without my family getting sick as well. And, here I am looking at my options in case we are not so lucky. Things like when and where I should get tested, who I can contact in case I can't help my mom when she needs it, etc. And in the back of my mind; what happens if I spread it to my family and someone else gets more sick.... 

I am super fortunate because I can take time off of work without losing my job or my house or going without food. My kids are old enough that if I get really sick they can take care of themselves. Again, I know how lucky I am. And although my mom won't like it, she *can* be helped by other people too.

So now I join the group of people who have had to quarantine because they were in contact with someone who tested positive. Fortunately the only people I was in contact with since that time are my family, and they have all been careful as well. Hopefully the story will end here and I won't be part of the spread. I guess I'll find out!

Some Thoughts on Pandemic Introversion

 

My dogs have become my spirit animals. They are both older ladies - both thirteen years old - and they enjoy staying home and snuggling into their beds or other comfy spaces. The Pandemic has been pretty great for them, and they have made the past 9 months much better for me, as well. 

I am not strictly an introvert; I usually fall right in between introversion and extroversion when I take any kind of personality test. I do like people, and I like to be around people who are comfortable for me. But I'm Highly Sensitive and I need my space as well. I don't like crowds, and I like quiet calm spaces. I am a massage therapist and I prefer to work in a space where I can keep things quiet and peaceful. 

Because I am fortunate enough to have a pretty good savings and support, I have been able to weather this Pandemic mostly at home, with my dogs and the rest of my family, and I admit it has been pretty great. I do miss working more, and sometimes my house gets a little too noisy with all the other people and their various Zoom meetings.  But my house is big enough that I can usually find a quiet space when I need to. I am extremely fortunate. 

 I recognize that this Pandemic is not comfortable for most people. I am definitely one of the lucky ones. I still hurt for all the people who are struggling more than I am. I still feel a lot of pain for all the others who are hurting so much at this time. I do not understand how other people do not feel other's pain, because it is the way I have always been; I see or hear or read about someone getting injured and I feel pain where their injury is. I always have. It helps me as a massage therapist, but it can also exhaust me if I'm not careful (but I have learned to be careful so it isn't bad). I do wish I could take everyone's pain away from people, but I also recognize that pain teaches us things as well. 

I have learned a lot during this Pandemic, but I will always still have things to learn. One of the big lessons that I am always trying to learn is how much each person wants as far as space and interaction. Including myself. 

I appreciate having the time to hide out in my house and slow down and learn new things. But I also want people to know that they can still reach out to me if they want someone to talk to (or write to, preferably). I am not giving as many massages to clients, but I still care. Physical touch is more dangerous at this time, but we can still connect emotionally. I have always appreciated massage therapy because it is safe touch, with rules and boundaries. That is very important to me. Like many people, I have some uncomfortable history with 'unsafe' touch. I have always looked for ways to connect with people without it becoming uncomfortable. 

So now I write. It suits me. It is quiet and peaceful and I can make room for it safely. I can share without forcing my thoughts on anyone who doesn't want to read them. And I can offer to listen to anyone who wants to share their own thoughts with me. 

And for anyone who reads this but doesn't want to reach out, know that I do care about you even if I don't know you. You matter. Your thoughts matter. You are important to this world. Please know that.

☮♡

Memories of Thanksgivings Past; Football, Food, and a Traumatic Slap

 

I just spent a bunch of time looking through old family photos to see if I had any good old Thanksgiving pictures. I was looking for a picture of our family sitting down for a meal, or even working in the kitchen. But back when I was growing up, pictures were not as easy to take, and my family didn't organize them well either. But I did find this one, taken in November of my first year of life (or that is the label on the picture at least), and it is a pretty nice picture of me and my three siblings. I am, of course, the baby. 

I don't have a lot of fond memories of my childhood Thanksgivings, and that is somewhat unfortunate because I think they were actually mostly good. I do remember quietly hiding in the living room with my brother and father watching football on TV while my sisters worked in the kitchen with my mom. And I remember that I often set the table; getting out all the fancy holiday dishes and placing them, with fancy glasses to drink out of. I really enjoyed drinking juice out of fancy wine glasses or goblets, while the adults drank wine. I know that has led to me continuing to enjoy drinking water (and wine too) out of nice glasses today. Simple pleasures. 

I also remember that we did spend a few Thanksgiving holidays visiting family in small town Illinois. It was often the only time each year that we would see my grandparents and aunt and uncles and cousins, so although they were very nice people they were almost strangers. We didn't have a big family, and I was younger than everyone else and I was shy, so unfortunately I remember feeling shy and scared a lot. I only remember a few of those trips, and my shyness made them pretty uncomfortable, even though my relatives were all really nice. I was just painfully shy, even around family. 

The years that we stayed home in Minnesota, I remember tension and discomfort. But also football. Football was a safe escape for me from the tension of the unhappy people in my family. I especially remember watching the Dallas Cowboys on TV and really admiring the calm cool demeanor of their coach, Tom Landry. At least one year it was contrasted with the crazy coach for the Oakland Raiders at the time, John Madden, and that contrast in coaching styles has always fascinated me. My dad was a soccer coach; and I saw him as being a bit like an Italian version of John Madden. I became a swim coach; and I always wanted to be more like Tom Landry. Those Thanksgiving NFL games had quite an impression on me. 

Other than the football games, the Thanksgiving meal was always the main event. I suppose I also watched the Thanksgiving parade on TV in the morning, but my memories are more centered around football and food. Unfortunately eating at the dinner table always had a bit more tension than I was comfortable with. I have memories of arguments, but even more of strained silence. But the single biggest traumatic memory I have is when my older sister burped at the table and was promptly slapped. I don't know how old I was at the time, but the slap was so shocking that I have never forgotten. The dinner table did not feel like a safe place to be. But I have always found solace in watching football on Thanksgiving. That is where my happier memories were. 

I still love watching football on Thanksgiving, and fortunately my recent memories of the holiday are more positive. I still prefer watching TV to sitting at a dinner table, but I am more comfortable with the people around me. And I can even look back at those old memories more fondly as well. Except the slap; I will never be fond of the slap. 

Re-Start/ Re-visit/ Revival

 

So here I am trying to re-start this blog again. I tried to re-start it a few years ago but stalled out quickly then. But one thing I am good at is dusting myself off and trying again. And again and again.  So here I go....again.

I *have* thought about starting a whole new blog, especially since this one never really went very far. But that is actually the point of this; I don't give up and abandon things....instead, I may step away for a bit, but for the things that are valuable to me I will come back and dust myself off and try again. 

Exercise? There's me every January 1st and every morning after the Super Bowl, re-starting some workout program. Healthy eating? Yep, those same dates. I also tend to re-start things around my birthday, and around New Moons. And I admit, the inspiration for re-starting this this time came at the New Moon a little over a week ago. 

I have been doing a lot of writing this year, especially with the pandemic, starting in March. I've written poems and stories and "essays", but have pretty much kept them to myself. Because let's be honest, even if I post things "out there", not very many people are going to read my words. So I have usually decided that it isn't worth sharing if no one is going to read it anyway. I've also wondered what kind of "bad" things could happen if someone does read my writing and then criticizes it or somehow does something else in order to hurt me... is it worth the risk to share my words? 

Sometime in the past week I decided that it was worth the risk. 

I like to read other people's thoughts. I don't want to use other people's thoughts against them. I do recognize that there are people out there that do, but I am writing for the people who are kind souls who are curious or want to feel less alone and feel a connection when reading other people's words. 

I will share my thoughts with you. 

I ask nothing in return, except perhaps a positive thought to someone in your life. Try to see the good in people and share kindness. 

Many years ago I shared a quote of my own that I still feel is true today: 

"I'm not as nice as some of you think I am, but my kindness is a strength. And I'm pretty damn strong." 

I'm not always "kind" as well, but I do try to be. I'm just a person who is trying to be good and kind and make the world a better place. I get a lot of value from reading or hearing other people's thoughts, so I am sharing mine in case it can be of value to you.

I will finish this post by copying the very first post I made on this blog back in 2009. It is still a good place to start:

MONDAY, MAY 18, 2009

My TOME.... (a definition and introduction)

The Dictionary.com definition of "tome" is:

1.	a book, esp. a very heavy, large, or learned book.

2.	a volume forming a part of a larger work.

In this case, My TOME also stands for My Thoughts, Observations, Memories, Etc.

This is my first post, so I really don't know if I will do much with it. We'll see. I tend to write a lot - volumes - but I don't usually share my writing. I'm not entirely sure that anyone really wants to read what I write, and usually what I write is really pretty private. Really I'm mostly writing for myself. But if anyone else gets something from it, then of course that is an added bonus, so I figure I can try to share and see how it goes. I don't promise anything earth-shattering or anything - just my thoughts, observations, memories, etc.

So here it is.
Enjoy....
-jc

Thoughts of a Childhood Rival and Friend

My childhood nemesis died last week.  I stumbled upon a Facebook post of her obituary, and audibly gasped.  It felt like a gut-punch, with years of memories flooding my brain.  She was 47 when she died, and her obituary was short and did not include clues as to how she died.  It felt like a rough draft rather than a completed story, and I spent much of the day after I saw it wondering what happened to her and genuinely hoping that she is at peace.

Our story had the feel of a Hollywood movie; I was the awkward shy hard-working nerdy geek, and Vicky was the more exuberant fun talented charismatic charmer.  We met in elementary school and became friends, and adversaries.  I have often referred to her as my nemesis over the years, and I say that I loved her like a sister. The truth is that there is no one other than my sister who hurt me as much as she did, and in that way she had an indelible impact on my life.  

Vicky and I attended elementary and junior high school together, but the place that we spent the most time together was the swimming pool.  We were teammates on our club team for many years, and that is where she tormented me the most.  Vicky was much more talented than I was, but I was a harder worker.  She was the kid who would play around in practice and pull on my feet and skip laps…and then blow me out of the water in meets.  When we were 9 years old, I almost quit swimming because my coach so blatantly favored her.  But looking back there were probably coaches who favored me as well. I just knew I wasn’t as good as her.

We were opposites enough in the pool that we ended up swimming different events and didn’t compete as much in junior high, but then she tormented me socially. I remember birthday parties where Vicky would shun me.  I remember how she made fun of me for not drinking.  And like a scene from a movie, I remember the time in junior high that she loudly pointed out a pimple on my face, in front of the boy I had a crush on.  Fun times. 

We ended up going to different high schools and going our separate ways.  Vicky quit swimming and I lost track of her.  I ran into her once years ago and we talked for a few minutes and were friendly, but that was it.  Whereas I went off to college and moved away, she was living in the same neighborhood that we grew up in when she died.  Of course I don’t know the details that would fill-in the years, and success is not measured by the distance we travel.  I hope that she had a lot of fun and love and happiness over the years. 

In my Hollywood version of the story, she was the mean girl and I was the ugly duckling that turned into a swan.  But this story took place in the Midwest, not Hollywood.  Vicky definitely tormented me, but I probably tormented her back.  I hated her but I loved her too.  I’ve traveled far and had some good success, but that doesn’t make my life any better than someone who stayed close to home.  It just makes it different. 

We all have our stories.  Vicky was incredibly important to mine.  Whenever I tell my childhood story, Vicky is a part of it.  A part of my childhood died last week.  I hope that her life was full of the exuberant energy that she had as a kid. I hope that that sparkle continued to shine.  RIP, Vicky.

Lunar Glow

I felt her pull, I felt her glow,

It seemed there were things she wanted me to know.

But partly hidden behind the trees,

The knowledge she possessed I struggled to see.

Still her pull was strong,

And she encouraged me along...

  
So finally, full within my sight,

She blessed me with her wisdom tonight.