It’s 8:17 pm on a beautiful spring night in Oregon. The temperature in the 60’s. Outside, there is a steady conversation between four or five of the neighborhood pet dogs. I have a window fan on low that keeps a steady drop in degrees of my room. My Aquos LCD television is muted but the steady hum of the electricity reminds me of the baseball game I am monitoring.
I have my own dog, he’s part Frenchie and sleeps soundly with the steady snort of his breathing at the foot of my bed. Looking around I see the sparce decorations and bare walls. The sounds that echo off that emptiness, amplifies those sounds coming from outside. The sounds still draw my attention. A basketball is being dribbled outside the front yard. And finally the clicking of my keyboard centers my focus on my laptop.
I’m comfortable, cool, snuggled in my bed describing life around me. I’ve worked hard today at my day job but still, the drive to write keep my fingers typing and my imagination active.
As a writer and reader, I keep magazines, notebooks, coffee cups and totes strewn about the room. Yeah, this is exactly where I want to be, in my little duplex bedroom, sitting on my funky, brown duvet. I hear my partner coming in and watch my dog run to her. I wouldn’t want to be nowhere but here… and I am blessed.
Which emotion(s) — joy, envy, rage, pity, or something else — do you find to be the hardest to contain?
Is being defensive an emotion? I think defensiveness is the container by which I can hide my emotions. Going through life making sure I am not in the spotlight or picked out for something I perceive someone might think I did wrong… is tiring. What I hide in my storage box of defensiveness is fear. It seems to drive all other negative emotions I easily stuff in my box and not acknowledge.
There is lots of fear. Fear of being wrong, fear of abandonment, fear of not understanding, fear of not being heard or understood.
So I carry around this box of defensiveness which allows me to stuff my fears and not deal with the reality of life and situations around me. It allows me to wear my rose colored glasses and distorts the vision of the real me that is hiding, still, inside my box.
Every once in a while I get a glimpse of myself. Looking in the mirror, I don’t really see who I am, just this person who is going through the motions of life, still wondering if it is safe to put aside my box. At least now I recognize the box and what’s inside the box. But, do I really want to let go of the box? <peering around me I think to myself> is it safe?
In 300 years, if you were to be named the patron saint of X, what would you like X to be? Places, activities, objects — all are fair game.
Patron Saint of the Compassionate Smile!
I work in the medical field and see many sad and sick people. The first thing I offer a patient is a smile. One that projects peace, patience and the idea that they are in the right place in that moment. People need to be heard, helped and healed and in my experience, a genuine, kind smile; the type of smile that puts someone at ease; goes a long way in the healing process. Have you ever looked at a person smiling from the inside out and been able to resist smiling back at them?
Try giving someone you meet a heartfelt smile. It might just put you on the road to Sainthood! <smile>
If you could travel to any location in the universe — where would you travel and whyThis might sound odd, but I am not interested in traveling in space. Not by means of our fuel equipped space ships. I would time travel, yeah. I would go back to the 1920’s. Think of the fashion, think of music, think of the culture. I would love to dance the Charleston, wear a flapper dress, find the underground bars and speakeasies and just be a newly liberated woman. The woman of the 1920’s voted, enjoyed golf, archery and even drove cars! This sounds girlie I know but, <shrug> it still sounds like fun!