Category Archives: Character

I lost my sole while out walking

October 21, 2011: I walked at length today near my new home, and though I lost my sole; I think I found at least a piece of my true soul. There are times when I walk; when the sun is shining and the temperature is perfect; that something like joy overtakes me. Have you had those excruciatingly wondrous times?  I hope so.  Occasionally it happens when I am playing the piano.  I call that playing in the spirit.  A few times, this same joy has overwhelmed me while out walking.  I like to think of it as walking with God. 

God is my absolute all time favorite walking partner. We can walk for miles and never say a word,

When I go out walking with God, he does not use the time together to scold me; to tell me what I should do.  In fact, he does not try to influence me in any way, except through gifts of good things and beauty. He doesn’t control me. No matter how fast or slow, or how long I walk, he simply bathes and restores me with nature and beauty.

I come back thinking, “I want to do this every day.”

When Debris Becomes Life

I love to walk. I loved to walk on the beach when I lived in Edmonds, Washington last year.

As I walked on the beach at low tide, I would see interesting debris; things the tide had washed in and then left stranded on the sand or rocks. Besides the usual crabs and kelp, there were empty soda bottles, food containers. Those didn’t stay long.  Either the tide washed them back out, or community minded folk who have adopted the beach strolled by and picked them up, delivering them to the proper recycle receptacle.

There are other relics on the beach; random poles not seen at high tide, remnants of piers and docks that used to be, which are no longer serviceable as anything but roosts for eagles and momentary resting places for seagulls.

From time to time, I saw some rubber gasket like things, about eight inches in diameter.  These were strewn randomly, sometimes caught between two well worn rocks, or half buried in sand.

There is an upscale marina located in the area, I took these halved donuts to be bits of boat or dock protective bumper apparatus.  How careless, thought I, in an otherwise well maintained marina and port; these things are not collected and recycled or tossed. A few times, I thought of asking someone, but just never got around to it.  

Early in July, I was able to attach myself to a noon hour, ranger guided tour of the beach at very low tide. It was here I learned that the supposed gaskets I had been observing were actually egg cases for the Moon Snail. When the Ranger told us this, I thought she was joking; pulling a seaside equivalent of a snipe hunt on us; particularly me, a born and bred inlander, newly arrived at the sea. Further research proved this to be a bonafide bit of marine biology information.

And now, I cannot help but wonder, how many things have happened in my life that I have considered debris, trash; that were actually life giving? How many jobs, friendships, or challenges have I tossed and recycled before they were hatched? How many times have I said, “God, you must be joking!”  When I was staring at a golden opportunity?

Loved for who you are, or what you do?

My daughter in law went to a women’s retreat recently.  She was away four days, so I moved in to help.  I made sure four children got three square meals and two hearty snacks each day.  I transported from school, did mountains of laundry, tidied; generally busted myself to keep everything done-to cover all the bases.  Why? Because I wanted her to be missed for who she is; not for all the work that she gets done.

According to this perspective; the family misses her because they love her, not because they are missing a meal or a clean pair of socks.

I mentioned this at a gathering to which I accompanied the children.  There was a collective sigh, and a nod. Isn’t that what we all want?  To be loved for who we are, not just all the work we do?

 

Admittedly, what we get done is a part of who we are. I am a “doer.”  Getting things done is a big part of who I am.  I am dependable.  I DO what I say I will do. I follow through and get things done. But that is just one part of my personality. I long to be lovable, for others to find me gracious, understanding, nurturing.

We may like to be acknowledged for what we do, for what we have accomplished. But in the end; do we not all want to be loved for who we are?  When we are away, do we not want to be missed because we are loved;  not for all the things that did not get done in our absence?

What is your opinion? Do you want to be loved for who you are, not what you do?  Or, is what you do an integral part of who you are?

All my prayers get answered, all my dreams come true — for other people

I feel like all my prayers are being answered and all my dreams are   coming true–for other people.  And, it makes me smile. It is cause for happiness, celebration and joy. What a wonderful feeling to know these things are possible; that education, hard work, sacrifice and focus really do pay off.

The ancient prophecy of Joel promised, “I will restore to you the years the worm has eaten.”  I was jubilant recently, when I witnessed the relational and material successes of a close friend whom I know has slogged through tough times and emotional pain.

The fact that other folks have received things I desire, is not grounds to covet, envy, or resent. It is grounds for celebration.  At times, I am tempted to ask what I have done wrong. Why are all my dreams and longings being answered in the lives of other people, but not in mine?  Maybe so they can be a blessing to me.

Over the past 12 months, I have been privileged to spend numerous days in the homes of various relatives whom material success has smiled on.  Yes, faithful dependable work and sensible investment have paid off, and they are more than willing to share hospitably. Recently, I spent 36 hours of R and R at a cousin’s.  Retired, yet youthful; she and her husband have just used the first two years post retirement to design and build their dream home.  I could soak in her claw foot bathtub, or the hot tub; write in the impeccably decorated guest apartment; or drink in the open landscape forever, while waiting on my dreams and answers.

Yes, recently, I have noticed that all my prayers are being answered — all my dreams are coming true– for other people.  I aim to celebrate and enjoy all their successes to the limit while I wait patiently for mine.

Forget WWWWWH, What Next?

Who What When Where Why How – WWWWWH

These are the questions you are supposed to ask as a writer; from them, you get the complete story.  By referring to them, you craft an informative article. But, if you insist on asking them of the circumstances in your personal life, it will drive you crazy.

Q: Who is in the wrong?                                                          

A:  Will it do any good to know, even if you can prove it?

Q:  When did things start to go wrong?

A:  Does knowing make any difference?

Q:  Where did I go wrong?

A:  Can you fix it, or are you just beating yourself up?

Q:  How did it come to this?

A:  Will all the analysis in the world right things?

Q:  Why did this happen to me?

“Why,” is a particularly pesky question.  Most people start asking, “why?” at the tender age of three.

“Johnny, please put your socks in the laundry.”

“Why?”

“So mommy can wash them.”

“Why?”

So they will be clean and your feet won’t smell.”

“Why?”

I have ceased to wail and whine and to ask why.  It wastes far too much emotional energy with little result. I have recently noticed that asking, “how did it come to this?” is also ineffective. I cannot right my entire world simply by knowing how it got this way in the first place. For me, right now, the only valid question is, “what next?”  What is the next step? What am I to do next? I conclude this must be what is meant by taking one day at a time, seeking the will of a higher power, addressing and correcting mistakes as soon as possible.  So, I ask you, wherever you might be right now in your life, “What next?” Let us wait with hope and anticipation to see what is just around the corner.

Owning Alone

This morning as I was walking early to avoid the heat of the day, I had to stop and ask if I was mad at  me for being here. I miss the beach and the open sea. I miss seeing mountains and ocean all in the same frame. I miss long meditative walks through a safe quaint town, down by the ferry port and the train station. Yesterday, I got insufferably hot and miserable in the desert heat.  There is no one else to blame; but, is there any reason to beat myself up about this? Must there be any whining and blaming?

One of the unquestionable benefits of being alone, is that you alone own your stuff and can do what you want with it.  Without considering anyone else, you can buy the style of furniture you prefer, place the furniture where you want, decorate in the color you choose.

This benefit reaches far beyond the mere idea of owning material things.  When you are a single adult, you have both the permission and responsibility of making decisions.  There is no one else to blame, so you own the outcome of the decisions you make.

Sole proprietorship is a healthy place to be.  No bitterness toward others, no excuses, no manipulation, no blame shifting.  You make the decisions.  You live with them.

Back Story

In November of my eighth grade year, my family moved to Seattle-and I loved it.  The following July, we moved back to Grand Junction. Had I been given the choice, I would have stayed in Seattle.

In October of 2010, being completely alone and at liberty, I packed my Subaru and moved back to the Seattle area, settling in Edmonds. Spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically; I was thriving there. I settled into a nice routine of commuting, writing, working and walking. My intent was to live there forever, traveling often for pleasure and to visit children and grandchildren.

Abruptly in June of 2011, my job ended.  I continued to walk and write and job hunt in the Seattle area, also keeping my eye on Colorado.

Job Opportunities

Jobs which caught my interest and showed the most promise seemed to be in areas of investing in the lives of others via education, nurture or organization. Once again, I followed up on Core Knowledge teaching tips, overseas opportunities, nanny vacancies in luxury towns, and personal assistant positions for the rich and famous.

And then it came, a job opportunity that fit like a glove; nurture, nature, organization, travel, homemaking, music, writing and performance-the artsy and the practical all wrapped up in one.

Though this is not the LOCATION I would prefer, I am yet aware of the great opportunity afforded me to invest in the lives of my grandchildren while I continue to facilitate the success of their parents,  to pursue music and media in yet another way, to travel, to be close enough to visit my two younger adult children on a regular basis; to have opportunity to write and be myself, to use the gifts and pursue the desires uniquely mine.

Time to seize the day and savor it for all it is worth.

Belated for Father’s Day

Young Dad;

Seriously clad;                                                         

Riding a bike with a baby.

Baby asleep;

State of art seat;

Lulled by the sunshine and motion.

Responsible fun;

Naptime done;

Goals accomplished through memory making.

(Happy Father’s Day, 2011, Cherry Odelberg)

Writing Women’s Fiction

If I am perfectly groomed; then you will love me.

If I do everything you ask; then you will love me.

If I am a nice enough person; then you will love me.

If I provide for you, because of all I’ve done for you; then you will love me.

If I take care of you, meet your every need; then you will love me.

If I sacrifice for you, lay aside my dreams and desires to help you meet your dreams; then you will love me.

If I do my job and your job too; then you will love me.

I love happily ever after endings.  A happy ending gives me hope. I too, might someday experience fulfillment.  But, the way to achieve that happy ending is not through living women’s fiction.  Living the women’s fictions written above will make you crazy.  That kind of fiction ends on the counselor’s couch, working through resentment, despair and depression.

The waves are only a metaphor

This morning, I decided to seize the sunshine, as it attempted to break through the clouds. I let it draw me to the beach where the tide was out further than I had ever seen it; after being higher than ever a mere 10 days ago.  The rocks were still wet and slippery, so I chose my path carefully.   Never-the less, as I hiked along the rocks from beach to beach; the closer I got to my goal, so nearer and more threatening came the waves, until 20 yards from safety, they were at a peak and I could no longer turn back. This, too, is a metaphor for my life. I have finished one job and am on the brink of another-by choice.  What will my future hold? Sandy beaches?  Slippery rocks?  More choices and decisions?

At one point this morning, I chose flat sand in place of slippery boulders.  I waited for the ebb and flow of lapping waves, knowing that a miscalculation on my part would soak me to the ankles – this in winter, and at the most distant point from home and hearth. I stepped, and stepped again, and did not slip nor did I get wet past the soles of my walking shoes. “I will go forward,” I said.  “I will make choices and calculations.  I will step into the water. I will reinvent myself.  If I do not like the result, I will dry my shoes and socks by the fire and begin again.”

With regard to sleeping alone

“I don’t like to sleep alone, sad to think some folks do,” So crooned, the singer. But today I write on behalf of sleeping alone. The best thing about sleeping alone is uninterrupted snoring.  When sleeping alone, I can snore all I want. No poke and prods, no shaking and waking; just sound, uninterrupted sleep.

Since snoring has such a bad reputation with roommates, campers, and close knit families, let me explain why this is important to me. For the majority of the years of my life, I have been a light sleeper. My mother even said so. I did not even allow her to play the piano or vacuum while I napped as an infant. As I made my way through childhood, every bump in the night, every creak and groan of the house was likely to wake me. I was constantly vigilant, even in sleep.  Never did I relax.  This trait came in handy when raising my own children. When they needed me, I was there in a whisper. When my daughter came along, I cultivated a skill of not only waking at a moment’s notice, but also falling back to sleep quickly.  I was many years into adulthood before I learned to sleep deep and long.  By that time, tissues, nose and throat membranes had aged, swollen, become vibrant.  Also by that time, through advertisement of remedies, snoring had moved from a natural result of sleep to an unwanted social fax pas to be remedied and cured. I am sure I possess faults that need to be addressed and corrected; but sleeping deep, care-less, and waking refreshed is not one of them.

Yes, the best thing about sleeping alone is uninterrupted snoring. The worst thing about sleeping alone will probably not receive voice from me in public pages.