These days, my life is feeling very full. I'm spending time with family. I am meeting new people. I am being challenged at work. I am tapering in preparation for the marathon.
A full life means that I am not home very often. I look around my little shoe box condo and wonder how it is possible that it is so disorganized when I am home so little. I feel a tad bit guilty when I choose coffee with a friend over an afternoon spent cleaning.
But then I read this little passage by one of my favorite authors, Mary Anne Radmacher, and I feel a little bit less guilty...
"chances are... forever is... sitting outside my door. why am i doing the dishes? days speedily tick past, my future, in, pours from this pen of today, written with apparent ease. a precious vapor disappears. in the clearing of it i shall see that i am aged. i shall wonder how i could have dedicated so many days to the pursuit of nonessential things. what of all those days can i recall? as i learn to embrace the gray and the wrinkle, i open the door to chance. i whisper to forever, "let's now go dance and leave the dishes for later."
I am a bit behind right now. I'm behind on cleaning my condo. I'm behind on projects I want to tackle this fall. I'm behind on reading. I fall into bed each night feeling exhausted - but very fulfilled.
My life is full right now and I know that when I look back, I won't regret the fact that my condo isn't spotless. I will be glad that I let things slide a bit so I can do the things I really enjoy and see the people that I love to be around.
Do you ever feel guilty when you let certain responsibilities slide a little bit?
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Letter to Me
We are probably due for another Mary Anne Radmacher inspired post, right? If you are new to my blog, I am a bit of obsessed with her book, Lean Forward Into Your Life.
In the book, Mary Anne (see how we are on first name basis? I am sure we'd be bff if she actually knew me...) shares a letter that she writes to herself. She pretends to be the seventy-eight version of herself, and writes a letter to her younger self:
As I look upon you it is almost as if I have become an unconventional English woman and I see you as a brash American woman. So impatient. I know you don't see yourself as impatient and that's actually one of your troubles. The depth of your impatience reaches to the questions you ask of me. "When am I going to learn?" The answer is a contradiction. Always. Never. If you life song wasn't the same song, umpteenth verse - you'd be insane or dead. You can't have the breadth of every one's life lessons - just the panorama of your own. It's not that you keep making the same mistake... you are participating in versions of the same structures. Your impatience keeps them coming.
"What? You again?" Do you then stamp your feet or slam the door? You will learn the difference which patience makes. Rather than greeting those redundancies with dread - you welcome them as old friends and ask them to teach you what they can. You really must become more courteous (invite them in) and patient (learn from them - don't hurry to send them away). As it is now, you want to be all over the map. Everywhere at once. Accomplishing. Achieving. Perfecting. Inventing. Inspiring. In case you haven't noticed, you are tired. You simply need to stop working so hard. Walking so fast. Your impatience to taste everything keeps you from tasting anything.
So. Yes. You do learn. And you will learn by embracing paradox. In unlearning you learn. In slowing down you fly. In welcoming trouble you see those troubles less often. Allow the events of your life to not make sense. That is the only way they can ever make sense.
You ask if I am happy. So I will tell you. No. I am not happy. I see the world too clearly to be happy. But I am content. And I think that is a better thing.
Be kind to yourself. Stop waiting to grow up: you never will. You only grow and that's a more vital process that "growing up." I love you, Mary Anne.
Lately, certainly elements leave me feeling like my life is a bit of a "broken record"; it's the same song and dance, over and over. I'm not loving the track that I am stuck on but I can't seem to re-set the needle. So this letter really resonated since she mentions how you sometimes have to invite troubles in to truly learn from them and move forward.
I love this idea of putting yourself in the future and writing a letter to your present self. I think back on how critical I was of my younger self and wish I could go back and be a bit more accepting; however, I am still quite critical of my present self so I am sure the 78 year old version of me would tell me to stop being so critical... to stop thinking I need to have all the answers, right at this moment... I'd tell myself to treat myself as I would a best friend - to choose kindness over criticism. To believe in myself rather than berate myself. I think the older version of myself would tell me to stop worrying about what the future holds as worrying accomplishes nothing. Instead, she'd tell me to enjoy the journey.
What do you think the older version of you would write in a letter to your present self?
In the book, Mary Anne (see how we are on first name basis? I am sure we'd be bff if she actually knew me...) shares a letter that she writes to herself. She pretends to be the seventy-eight version of herself, and writes a letter to her younger self:
As I look upon you it is almost as if I have become an unconventional English woman and I see you as a brash American woman. So impatient. I know you don't see yourself as impatient and that's actually one of your troubles. The depth of your impatience reaches to the questions you ask of me. "When am I going to learn?" The answer is a contradiction. Always. Never. If you life song wasn't the same song, umpteenth verse - you'd be insane or dead. You can't have the breadth of every one's life lessons - just the panorama of your own. It's not that you keep making the same mistake... you are participating in versions of the same structures. Your impatience keeps them coming.
"What? You again?" Do you then stamp your feet or slam the door? You will learn the difference which patience makes. Rather than greeting those redundancies with dread - you welcome them as old friends and ask them to teach you what they can. You really must become more courteous (invite them in) and patient (learn from them - don't hurry to send them away). As it is now, you want to be all over the map. Everywhere at once. Accomplishing. Achieving. Perfecting. Inventing. Inspiring. In case you haven't noticed, you are tired. You simply need to stop working so hard. Walking so fast. Your impatience to taste everything keeps you from tasting anything.
So. Yes. You do learn. And you will learn by embracing paradox. In unlearning you learn. In slowing down you fly. In welcoming trouble you see those troubles less often. Allow the events of your life to not make sense. That is the only way they can ever make sense.
You ask if I am happy. So I will tell you. No. I am not happy. I see the world too clearly to be happy. But I am content. And I think that is a better thing.
Be kind to yourself. Stop waiting to grow up: you never will. You only grow and that's a more vital process that "growing up." I love you, Mary Anne.
Lately, certainly elements leave me feeling like my life is a bit of a "broken record"; it's the same song and dance, over and over. I'm not loving the track that I am stuck on but I can't seem to re-set the needle. So this letter really resonated since she mentions how you sometimes have to invite troubles in to truly learn from them and move forward.
I love this idea of putting yourself in the future and writing a letter to your present self. I think back on how critical I was of my younger self and wish I could go back and be a bit more accepting; however, I am still quite critical of my present self so I am sure the 78 year old version of me would tell me to stop being so critical... to stop thinking I need to have all the answers, right at this moment... I'd tell myself to treat myself as I would a best friend - to choose kindness over criticism. To believe in myself rather than berate myself. I think the older version of myself would tell me to stop worrying about what the future holds as worrying accomplishes nothing. Instead, she'd tell me to enjoy the journey.
What do you think the older version of you would write in a letter to your present self?
Friday, March 19, 2010
What a Week
What a week this has been, my friends. But it's coming to a close. And while I know I will be working this weekend, I also know I will get more than 4-6 hours of sleep each night, which is what I've been averaging this week.
Last night I got together with my aunt & cousin! You see, my cousin is in med school, and yesterday was match day - which is the day where med students find out where they will do their residency. For those who were in a sorority, it's like Bid Day on crack!! We had much to celebrate though as my cousin got her TOP PICK. I was not at all surprised - she is one smart, hard working, determined cookie, but I know it's a relief to her! It was so great to laugh and tell stories over a couple of glasses of wine.
The perfect way to cap off a craptastic week.
A reminder of the things that matter most in life.
We talked about work and life and standing up for yourself and Macchu Pichu and Ernest Hemingway and psychotic behavior (my cousin's speciality is psychiatry).
Similar to last week, I am going to leave you with another little treasure from Anne Radmacher. If you like the poems I have been posting, you must check out her book! You will not regret it.
This poem sort of speaks to how I have been feeling lately - except the person telling the lie is me. About myself. And my abilities. I know what I am capable of. I have a gaggle of friends and family that know what I am capable of. A little bit of self criticism is good, but a lot is not. I know I would like a broken record when I say I need to be a littl easier on myself. It's time to actually act on it and cut myself some major slack.
Last night I got together with my aunt & cousin! You see, my cousin is in med school, and yesterday was match day - which is the day where med students find out where they will do their residency. For those who were in a sorority, it's like Bid Day on crack!! We had much to celebrate though as my cousin got her TOP PICK. I was not at all surprised - she is one smart, hard working, determined cookie, but I know it's a relief to her! It was so great to laugh and tell stories over a couple of glasses of wine.
The perfect way to cap off a craptastic week.
A reminder of the things that matter most in life.
We talked about work and life and standing up for yourself and Macchu Pichu and Ernest Hemingway and psychotic behavior (my cousin's speciality is psychiatry).
Similar to last week, I am going to leave you with another little treasure from Anne Radmacher. If you like the poems I have been posting, you must check out her book! You will not regret it.
This poem sort of speaks to how I have been feeling lately - except the person telling the lie is me. About myself. And my abilities. I know what I am capable of. I have a gaggle of friends and family that know what I am capable of. A little bit of self criticism is good, but a lot is not. I know I would like a broken record when I say I need to be a littl easier on myself. It's time to actually act on it and cut myself some major slack.
somebody lied to you once.
once but it was a really really big lie.
you know it. you know the one of which i speak.
it's the one that began,
"that's not good enough."
and the great brown sadness is that you believed that lie.
and now you are just finishing up the days trying
to be good enough, the glory of the inside of a
murex has invited you to your own glory.
the shell's inner soul reminds you of what you have always
known but weren't brave enough to believe...
you are perfect just as you are.
you are a glorious
creative, dancing laughing being...
who loves chocolate and children and animals and
friends and frosts all those cakes with loving frosting
for others but forgets to keep a slice for herself.
look in that precious mirror and say
when i first saw you i knew you'd arrive today...
just fine.
just perfect.
the way you are.
remember this day
is your wild and precious gift.
open it and honor it.
remember this day
is your opportunity to
grow and learn and be better
at dusk than you were at dawn.
remember this day
that extending is
important as receiving love.
Happy Weekend, dear readers. I hope it is restful and wonderful for all of you.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Adjusting my perspective
First things first - thank you for the kind, insightful, thoughtful comments you left yesterday. I plan on printing them out & keeping them in my desk for inspiration. It was hard to put my thoughts/feelings into writing - I like to keep a stiff upper lip and pretend that everything is ok, but sometimes it's harder to pretend everything is fine. I am thankful that I feel safe sharing how I feel with you.
So bottom line - I need to shut down that inner dialogue. A little bit of self criticism is ok, but I have clearly taken it too far. I did get a high five and a 'great job' comment from one of my clients today - exchanges like that make me realize that I can excel at this job.
Moving on - I was over at The Many Thoughts of a Reader's blog yesterday, sharing my thoughts on an advanced reader's copy of Scary Little Girl. It was my first time reading an ARC. It was pretty fun to read something that no one else could go out & buy! So hop on over there to see what I thought - and to see a picture of where I do much of my reading! The book is going on a little blog tour - I can't wait to see what others thought of the book. And PS - next month's blogger book club book is Middesex - you should read along with us!!
To close out the week, I'm going to leave you with yet another poem by the lovely Mary Anne Radmacher. As I've mentioned before, I am quite a fan of her work. I keep the book "Lean Forward into Your Life" on my bedside stand and frequently re-read the sections I have marked. Here is one I read this week when I was feeling down and need inspiration to adjust my perspective on life.
most of the things which seem so significant aren't.
don't take it personally - it's not usually about you.
pay attention. know when to leave.
curiosity takes courage.
the most important promises are the ones you make to yourself.
appreciation lasts longer than complaint.
being nice isn't always best.
surprise is as powerful as consistency.
listen to your inclination.
there's a difference between protecting yourself and defending yourself.
your eyes must not determine what you see.
play more.
stand tall.
imagine.
Have a wonderful weekend, dear readers.
So bottom line - I need to shut down that inner dialogue. A little bit of self criticism is ok, but I have clearly taken it too far. I did get a high five and a 'great job' comment from one of my clients today - exchanges like that make me realize that I can excel at this job.
Moving on - I was over at The Many Thoughts of a Reader's blog yesterday, sharing my thoughts on an advanced reader's copy of Scary Little Girl. It was my first time reading an ARC. It was pretty fun to read something that no one else could go out & buy! So hop on over there to see what I thought - and to see a picture of where I do much of my reading! The book is going on a little blog tour - I can't wait to see what others thought of the book. And PS - next month's blogger book club book is Middesex - you should read along with us!!
To close out the week, I'm going to leave you with yet another poem by the lovely Mary Anne Radmacher. As I've mentioned before, I am quite a fan of her work. I keep the book "Lean Forward into Your Life" on my bedside stand and frequently re-read the sections I have marked. Here is one I read this week when I was feeling down and need inspiration to adjust my perspective on life.
most of the things which seem so significant aren't.
don't take it personally - it's not usually about you.
pay attention. know when to leave.
curiosity takes courage.
the most important promises are the ones you make to yourself.
appreciation lasts longer than complaint.
being nice isn't always best.
surprise is as powerful as consistency.
listen to your inclination.
there's a difference between protecting yourself and defending yourself.
your eyes must not determine what you see.
play more.
stand tall.
imagine.
Have a wonderful weekend, dear readers.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Worth Waiting For
"So what is your type?"
A friend recently poised this question to me. By now, I should have a well-rehearsed, canned answer to this question. But I really don't. I don't know what my Mr. Right will look like. I don't know what kind of job he'll have. I can't give you a laundry list of what I'm looking for. Sure, I'd love it if he was handsome and wore glasses, but does that really matter? No, it doesn't.
What does matter is the way he will make me feel. This is something I've been thinking about as we approach Valentine's Day. I could try to succinctly say how he will make me feel, but instead I am going to share two poems from Mary Anne Radmacher:
you are every whisper of promise.
when i look at you i hear the laughter of my life,
i remember every dream i have forgotten just after awakening,
i believe in any possibility that i have once touched.
even when you are not with me,
you are part of the memories i make.
and now... i will be the soil of your rich harvest season. the season where the pain of the fallow and the burden of the bountiful come together. i am the orchard in which you walk and ponder and begin to hear the wind whisper of the immeasurable breadth of your strengths. i am the growing places in which you wander and begin to see the richness of your own knowing. it is in this place where you may both rest and soar.
******
if you are the question
the answer is yes.
if you are the challenge
the problem is already solved.
then and now
yesterday and tomorrow
i go on choosing you.
***
Aren't those lovely poems? I keep the book of Radmacher's poem on my bedside stand and read them for inspiration. How does your beloved make you feel? If you are single like me, how do you hope he will make you feel?
A friend recently poised this question to me. By now, I should have a well-rehearsed, canned answer to this question. But I really don't. I don't know what my Mr. Right will look like. I don't know what kind of job he'll have. I can't give you a laundry list of what I'm looking for. Sure, I'd love it if he was handsome and wore glasses, but does that really matter? No, it doesn't.
What does matter is the way he will make me feel. This is something I've been thinking about as we approach Valentine's Day. I could try to succinctly say how he will make me feel, but instead I am going to share two poems from Mary Anne Radmacher:
you are every whisper of promise.
when i look at you i hear the laughter of my life,
i remember every dream i have forgotten just after awakening,
i believe in any possibility that i have once touched.
even when you are not with me,
you are part of the memories i make.
and now... i will be the soil of your rich harvest season. the season where the pain of the fallow and the burden of the bountiful come together. i am the orchard in which you walk and ponder and begin to hear the wind whisper of the immeasurable breadth of your strengths. i am the growing places in which you wander and begin to see the richness of your own knowing. it is in this place where you may both rest and soar.
******
if you are the question
the answer is yes.
if you are the challenge
the problem is already solved.
then and now
yesterday and tomorrow
i go on choosing you.
***
Aren't those lovely poems? I keep the book of Radmacher's poem on my bedside stand and read them for inspiration. How does your beloved make you feel? If you are single like me, how do you hope he will make you feel?
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