It's been a very, very interesting week for me. If not rather...er... disturbing.
Here I am, living this beautiful, wondrous life with my babes and husband, with a small handful of good friends in my more reachable vicinity, and surrounded by an amazingly loving, wise and brilliant circle of friends and Mamahood community at large.
I am fulfilled daily, complete in my convictions, and am living the joyful and seeking life I mean to live.
Though I misstep in my daily actions (according to who I long to be), my Knowing is constant and true.
In the middle of December, I ordered a few wii games for us, my family. Two for the babes that are rather rambunctious, and one more for me-- a walking one.
I was so excited to get mine, and decided not to wait for Christmas -or even Solstice- (typical for me; ever impatient!) and opened it and put it in right away.
A perhaps dumb little game that made me smile and hooked me right away. I love my game! It's not uncommon for me to play twice a day, and walk for between seven and thirteen miles at a time.
A few days ago - perhaps a week - I was feeling used to my game, and it wasn't quite as novel, now. I wasn't necessarily going to stop playing, but I wasn't quite as obsessed as I had been. Or maybe I was just tired that day, after seventeen or whatever miles the day before.
That day the children and I went out shopping... tennies for Trev, lunch for us, and I desperately needed a couple of bras.
Nothing like a store's unbecoming dressing room for inviting one to take a good, thorough look at one's self.
I wasn't too tired to play my game, later!
It could have been that night that I saw on my brother's fb friends list a girl that I knew a thousand years ago. He knows the family well, still, as he lives at or near our childhood home.
Aaah. Hi, Julie. Love you.
In a more humorous frame of mind, I might have had the thought "Worlds Collide". (Seinfeld.)
But this was all a little too raw... too much exposure.
I got back to my game, and have started carrying weights as I play, I do kickbacks and curls, and even started running instead of walking. That's for a couple of reasons - one; I don't want to spend hours and hours playing each day, and two; after being conditioned to ten miles at a time, walking just doesn't cut it. I now need harder work. (In a couple of days, it will be four weeks.)
My physical being has a need to Go. Which is kind of weird... I'm used to doing work on the inside, and now my body is demanding work on the outside. My feelings on that are complicated - I feel strong and often energetic, but I don't have the quiet time in my own head to which I am accustomed. I'm left feeling off balance.
So then two or three days ago I see a friend send another (damn facebook) person I knew a long time ago a comment. I went to her page, and found a very dear friend that I loved well twenty years ago. (Though it has only been eight or so that I have seen some of these friends.)
On her page, I found three other Dearests. And through that, more.
These are not people that I have not thought of in years... these are people that are dear and close in my heart. As are the childhood friends from next door, I loved them truly once, and I love them still.
And me being me, of course I let them know immediately that I love them well.
None of that has changed within me.
As you wait to find out if Beloveds remember you, or want you, particularly coming immediately upon the heels of a couple of other rather raw insights, interesting feelings can come up.
Will they think me foolish for saying "Hello, I love you."? Do I matter to them? Did they know my heart truly as I remember, or was it a dream? It was so long ago. A lifetime or two lifetimes ago. And perhaps worst of all - what will they think of these life choices I've made?
No, Stephanie. It doesn't matter. It's quite alright to tell people you love them. Just shine it.
So I get comfortable with that, and then one of my old, dear friends tells his brother that I 'friended' him on fb."Did you look at her picture?" the brother asks.
All things considered, I didn't know if I should burst into tears, or smack him upside the head.
(I should say, here, that my fb profile pic was totally lame. Number one, I totally suck at fb, and two, I hate all photos of me -have my whole life- and though this one is a somewhat decent one (the one I have here, in About Us), it's cut off at a weird place and looked odd and dumb. But whatever. I had never cared.
Ahem. Until now.
So I chose the latter, and smacked him upside the head. "Dork." said I.
But I supposed that it was as good a time as any (seein's how it's a nekked-for-the-whole-world-to-see sort of time, right now) to pick up my camera and aim it at the mirror.
Which oddly enough was much less painful than most of the other events. And though these thoughts were all swirling and knocking in my head while I faced the camera in the mirror, there are no scarlet letters appearing upon my cheeks or nose.
I'm not completely sure why it was relatively easy to face....
Just a couple of days ago I was telling Eric that I've discovered a cure for discontent. "I find that if I just Do It, then it goes away. It's odd. It doesn't even have to be a commitment. It's just in that moment that it makes the difference."
It's the same no matter what it is... if I'm feeling lousy about lack of play or do with the babes, then I do something about it. Just like that, I feel happy and content again. If I'm feeling crappy about some mess, I just start to fix it.
This sounds, I realize, so completely obvious to the point of being ridiculous, and certainly it is obvious, but often I get so hung up on the Self Mastery plan and being able to walk on water that it just didn't occur to me that things can be fixed in this moment.
Which is, of course, the only moment there Is.
So there I am, face to mirror to camera. With no brands noticeable upon my face.
Maybe what saved it from being painful is that I was doing things.... loving people. Fixing my dumb little facebook page. (Or trying to.) Running. Buying a new bra.
I don't think it was so much a feeling of competence that kept me taking those photos, but rather that I just didn't have much ego left in me.
I now have a dozen or so profile pics to choose from in an album (should last me for ten years, if need be). Can choose a different one when I'm feeling sprightly.
I'm sure my friends -especially those just coming upon the scene- will wonder why on earth I took a dozen-plus photographs of myself. And if it happens very often? :) But I won't worry about that.
Taking a look from the outside was evidently something that had to be done.
Let's get back to cultivating that inner Shine.