Category Archives: Emotional Health

What is Love?

I suspect many of us have spent our whole lives moping about crooning, “Where is love?” rather than asking, “What is Love?”  Just what exactly am I searching for? Waiting for? Languishing without? What is love?

“Love is not love  which alters when it alteration finds

In light of that definition have I ever been loved?  Have you?  In a Shakespearian way?  Exactly what does he mean?  Does he mean the love is so strong it does not go away when it finds a blemish, an alteration in the beloved?  Or does he mean love does not try to change or alter the beloved when it spies something out of the ordinary?

Love is patient, love is kind,  it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not…”

Why is it easier to discern what is NOT love, than to state clearly what is?

Here’s a bit of tuneful wisdom from Older Ladies by Donnalou Stevens.

Are there any age limits on love?  Is it only for the young?

Lana Del Ray sings, Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?

I particularly like the phrase, “I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will.” I have to admit, no.  I have never been loved that securely. Yes.  There are those who have said they loved me, but, you know, alterations.

I wonder; does familiarity breed contempt?  Is the idealistic pure and chaste from afar the only guarantee? After all, as long as love remains unrequited, you alone may chose to remain true, without the responsibilities or constraints of a mutual relationship.  Is consummation the death knell for love and interest? Do you agree with Elizabeth Bennet that one good sonnet will kill off love?

What does it profit you to play hard to get right up to the alter – and then lose his love only because you secured him?

Jane Austen tends to write heroes and heroines who continue to love tenaciously against all odds.  But is everlasting love an old idea limited to 18th century novels?

Do not discount the fidelity of today’s young.  Though old, I am privileged to have friends in their 20s. Some, though young and worldly, would never cheat.  That would not be love. One loves strong enough to carry a torch for a lifetime, with or without a resolution. Another 20-something of my acquaintance is fated to be in love with someone already taken – yes, married, and yet chooses to remain honorably silent.  While you can neither suppress or conjure feelings of love, you can choose your actions.

My fate is of a different nature altogether.  Have I ever really loved?

There were times I began to love. Something got in the way.

I fear that if love is freely given, it can be freely taken away. So I panic and grasp and rush to people pleasing – to codependence – to insure that doesn’t happen.  Guess what?  It dies on me. Either I smother the beloved, or I burn myself out. That is not love. But what is?

Wherein the ranger was right

I said: I would love to go to Rattlesnake Arches.  It is on my bucket list.  I’ve been trying to find someone to go out there with me

She said:  I learned a long time ago, if you wait for someone to go with you, there are places you will never go.

Seeing the arches solo
Seeing the arches solo

I said: There is a field of sego lilies on top Black Ridge.

He said: The largest variety of flowers may be seen on Lower Liberty Cap Trail.

I said: Nah.  You’re kidding.  Out in that long barren stretch at the beginning of the trail?

A selection of wildflowers along Lower Liberty Cap Trail
A selection of wildflowers along Lower Liberty Cap Trail

I said: I finally got a helmet and am learning to ride a bicycle again.

He said:  That’s the spirit.  Soon we will have you running, too.

I said: I don’t aspire to run. I am quite content to hike at my own pace.  I don’t particularly like being sweaty and thirsty.

Funny thing, a couple weeks ago I caught myself running through some low places, some less scenic areas of trail for no apparent reason but boredom, exhilaration or getting there more quickly. It is happening with frequency.

Three different rangers.  Three instances in which the ranger was right and I was pleasantly surprised.

 

Trust at Rattlesnake Arches

The foremost reason I hike is for emotional health.   I love it.  Can’t live without it.  What others find healthful in prayer or meditation, I find in walking out in nature. Clarity, soul–refreshment. The added benefit, of course, is physical health. And way down in tertiary position is the word goal or success.

Nevertheless, I hiked to Rattlesnake Arches last week and thus chalked up another score for the bucket list. It was a goal well-met; a decision well-made. Despite the urging of some friends not to go alone and others not to take my Subaru, I set my face toward the arches and I went.

DSCN7678jeeproadThere are two ways to get to the arches.  From the North; a seven-mile hike in and through Rattlesnake Canyon with a seven-mile return.  From the South; a seven-mile dirt road, connecting to 1.5 miles of jeep road and then two miles on foot. I chose the dirt road thinking at any time to pull over and hoof it the rest of the way.  It was my lucky day.  The dirt road was freshly graded.  The Red Pearl made it the full seven miles – at 10 miles per hour.  Trucking on down the Jeep road in my bald tennies; I came upon this wondrous sign:

DSCN7680signatrattlesnake

Solitude.  Oh how I love that word.  On my way in, I met a lone cyclist, on the road out only one vehicle. I was alone, in utter solitude for a seven-mile radius.  There are times I need the counsel and restoration of friends and times I need to be alone, self-paced, quiet, in self-examination.

DSCN7704distantriver

Cresting the hill, canyons and valleys of the Colorado River stretch out before me, on into ruby colored sandstone and to Utah. The world is so vast. I am so very small. Instantly I trust.

The fear which chronically dogs me, is utterly gone.  I rest. Finally in the arms of Nature. There is nothing I can do.  Nothing for me to fix, manipulate or take responsibility for.  It is beyond me.  And yet, all will be most well. It is in the hands of the supernatural. 

DSCN7697firstarch

 

 

DSCN7711redrockandcanyonframedbyarch

 

DSCN7720archframescanyon

 

DSCN7730rockwallofarches

Musicians who dare greatly

What’s not to love about a symphony variety show?  A place where musicians play fiddles rather than violins; everyone sings whether professionally trained or no, conductors wield bows instead of batons; and pure silliness is allowed from folks who are usually, well, a little staid and classical?

I took myself out again last Sunday night.  I went straight to Moss Performing Arts Center, plunked my plastic on the ticket table and said, “One please.” The ticket seller typed my name into the computer, charged my card and replied, “We’ll let you in if you promise to write something good about us.”

Oh. So I have a reputation? If you don’t already know, I have a habit of attending concerts, snapping photos and  writing  about them.  I love to focus on the good things happening in my hometown. The visible growth of  Grand Junction Symphony Orchestra  is definitely a good thing. I went to the variety show on Sunday night expecting to enjoy good music – hopefully of many genres. The most impressive take-away, however, was the display of courage.

In her book,  Daring Greatly,  Brené Brown maintains that vulnerability, “Sounds like truth and feels like courage.  Truth and courage are not always comfortable.”

Every participant who took the stage has amassed years of experience and education in performance or communications. Through constant use, and honing of skills, they have, to all appearances become perfect. Perfect or not, even under normal circumstances it takes courage to step on a stage and reveal your inmost self through music.  But a variety show is not normal circumstances.

For this variety show, each musician aspired to something out of their comfort zone.  Some picked up a secondary or tertiary axe.  A   conductor  used to being “an elegant figure on the podium,” relinquished control. Laying aside the tails, he donned a costume and became  Dick Van Dyke  vulnerable  – just to give the audience a laugh. Two trumpeters who have garnered awards and accolades willingly tooted shower tubing and plastic funnels while attempting classical cadenzas. Tell me this, if you knew perfection was at your fingertips with three valves and designer brass; would you submit to the uncertainty of plastic funnels and shower tubing?  Thanks Judd and Scott, it was most impressive.

Most satisfying moments?

  • The lyric mellow cello on Saint Saëns,
  • singing along with down-home harmonies on Amazing Grace,
  • a classic jazz combo.

A variety show, a fund-raiser, music thoroughly enjoyed by all, but an emotional act of courage, none-the-less. Wild crowd cheers and a thumb’s up to those in the musical arena: Alycia, Jeremy, Kelly, Kirk, and company of musicians.

Forgetting Awesome, Extinguishing Desire

I work in a location of incredible natural beauty. People spend their vacations and their money to come here, yet I am here five days a week courtesy of my job.  Amazingly, the beauty is so magnetic, I often head to my place of work on my days off just to hike and enjoy and know it better.   The words; breathtaking, inspiring, centering and clarifying come to mind.

But sometimes I forget.   Not a senior moment type of forgetfulness; rather, a crowded out by cares and worries kind of forgetfulness. If I work long hours – say dawn to dusk – and then rush to visit extended family, or shop for groceries, there is no time to hike.  If I have been on my feet all day and my body is screaming for dinner; chances are I will sink fatigued into the car seat and hurry to my next appointment – perhaps at a laundromat – with nary a glance at the grandeur.  After a few days, I feel vaguely dissatisfied. I forget the awesome. My desire is extinguished.  Just like that, the beauty that once drove me mad with desire; delirious with abundance of joy is snuffed out.  The honeymoon is over.

I worked the early shift today. The great outdoors was so alluring when I exited the office, I could not resist the urge to pull on my walking shoes. It was too chilly to change to the cropped off athletic gear I always tote perchance of adventure, so I added layers to my work clothes and took off down the trail. The cold was invigorating. Half a mile later I was gobsmacked by the beauty.

DSCN7595monumentsfromrim

To think, fatigued, hungry and driven, I almost hurried to my car and on to the next item on my list.

As I walked I mused how all of life is like that.  In the crush of the mundane, I allow myself to slowly reel in the desire.  I pack it on ice.

In other words, after a few days of inattention to the beloved; after the interruption of a 40-hour workweek; perhaps mounting tension on the job or with the budget, the motivation goes away.  Through lack of use, desire is extinguished. The thing that used to be my emotional life-blood becomes ho hum, why should I exert myself?

And that is why in every avenue of endeavor we need to be constantly reminded;

Every day, tell her (him) you love her (him)

Keep the romance alive

Write a little every day if you are a writer

Are you a musician? Sit down and love that instrument every day.

Does beauty and the great outdoors nourish you? For heaven’s sake, don’t neglect yourself.

Quit being a martyr for expectations and the mundane. Feed the need. Nourish your desire.  Only then will you be wholehearted enough to actually give your best on the job.

 

 

Hobbled

Ever wonder how a horse feels when it is hobbled? No visible fences or barriers. Freedom as far as the eye can see, yet still hampered in forward progress. A horse with traditional foreleg hobbles can really go anywhere it has a mind to – except up the side of a mountain – it just takes more effort and a lot more time.

Lack of money such as not being able to buy groceries, gasoline, or pay the rent can severely hobble the creative energy of an artistic person.

As an aspiring writer who took a full-time day job to be free of just such financial hobbles, I could let myself feel reciprocally hobbled by the duties and demands of that very full-time day job. Thankfully, I work a job that includes the word bookstore; so it’s more like being hobbled in paradise. Besides, there is plenty of writing for me to do at the office, just…perhaps not fiction.

I love my retail job. There is variety at work. I feel competent. Rising to the occasion, drawing on my analytical ability or putting the strength of past experience to use builds confidence. Then, there is the natural environment at work. Sunshine, wildlife, ever-changing weather and scenery – pretty heavenly to enjoy while earning my daily bread.

I have noticed that the times I feel hobbled or frustrated with my job have to do with a negative attitude – either my own or a co-worker’s. For a few days recently, I was overwhelmed. Some of that feeling was due to wallowing in my own reactionary attitude. The balance of my overwhelm confirms the need to hire another co-worker.

Having first made every effort to corral my negative attitude rather than allow it to hobble my success; I turn my thoughts toward the qualities I wish to hire. Skills and integrity are essential. But, chemistry on the job is more vital than I would like to admit. It can make the difference between dreading work or looking forward eagerly to each day.

Just like the Banks children in Mary Poppins; I am searching for someone practically perfect as I flip through my mental file of acquaintances and leads. I want the best people possible staffing the store I manage. Optimum customer service hinges on a willing spirit; the ability to anticipate the needs of customers; and a clean, neat, tempting environment free of negative energy.

What are some traits that manifest a negative environment?
Insolence,
Chauvinism; gender, religious or political
High-maintenance, needy or demanding
Eager to help you to my opinion,
Disparaging of others or of merchandise,
Know-it-all, autobiographical garrulousness

You can bet as we search for an additional employee I’ll be looking for someone who anticipates needs of visitors, has a spirit of willingness to help, and improves the environment. Dream teams have chemistry.

Golden Oldies

It was perhaps the best I have ever played, though it would still take two hands to count the mistakes I know I made. I laid down a nice rhythmic groove and kept with it, letting the melody and dynamics breathe the words of well-known and well-worn standards for a solid hour.

I could not have asked for a more responsive audience. Some hummed. Some sang. Some merely mouthed the words. Many brightened perceptibly at up-tempo tunes, a boogie woogie accompaniment, or old hymns. At one point, a hall wanderer drifted by and commented with delight, “Look, you are putting them to sleep.” Sleep too, is responsive. It is my intention to play music that soothes and calms–to awaken sweet memories of long ago.

Yet it was bitter with the sweet; a very melancholy loving of the ivories. I sense it is the last time I will play for this audience. I grow older and so do they. In an ever changing group of approximately 50 appreciative listeners gathered there, only four were male. The reality is, women will travel more years single and alone than as partners, couples, or families. Performing music is a vulnerability that bares the soul in so many ways.

Self-talk about choices

Self? I think it’s time we have a little talk about choices; specifically the choices you made today and what we can glean from them. First off, I’d like to point out the positive choices you made on this, your last day of vacation. Though the day appeared sunny and I-70 was clear, this time of year it was a good idea to drive directly through the tunnels and over Vail Pass without stopping to dawdle.

From the trail to Hanging Lake
From the trail to Hanging Lake

Once safely over the passes, it was an even better idea to stop and hike to Hanging Lake. Hanging Lake is always a memorable experience. I know you are an experienced hiker. I also know you are in better shape than any of the previous four or five times you’ve made this 1000 ft ascent. The day was warm down by the parking lot and you contemplated changing to shorts and a tank. I commend you for making the right choice. Jeans are tough and made to last; never mind they also absorb and retain water quickly – particularly snowmelt. Smart Wool socks are also essential this time of year. Good job, Self! Tossing your black hoodie in the car seat and donning a black Loki jacket is also worth points. Not only is a Loki jacket versatile – what with the built-in mittens, adjustable hood and pull-down face mask- a Loki jacket also gives you credibility with the serious outdoor crowd.

But Self, I have to ask what you were thinking when you left your hiking boots under the seat and laced on your aging hiking sneakers. The promoters who quipped, “bald is beautiful,” were not talking about tennis shoe treads. And another thing; what is the purpose of keeping your Yaktrax in the car if you don’t tuck them in a pocket when you set out? Of course you needed nothing of the kind for the first fourth mile of paved bicycle trail.

The trail to Hanging Lake begins with a stroll on concrete bicycle path along the Colorado River
The trail to Hanging Lake begins with a stroll on concrete bicycle path along the Colorado River

Nor did you think to go back for boots and ice grips when you saw the rating of difficult at the trailhead, or began to encounter snow a third of the way in.

DSCN7255bridgesnowpackedYou did not give up. You pressed on, picking your way over rocks and increasingly long icy patches. What have you learned from this?
You made it to the top. You enjoyed the magnificent view.

DSCN7264hanginglakeapril5But on the way down?

You learned to stop trying to save your butt and to let your butt save you. Forget about dignity and walking upright. You embraced the most useful ranger advice you ever heard; don’t be afraid to sit down if you need to. As a result, you protected your elbows, knees and skull from fracture. You sat down at will instead of unexpectedly. You used every last miniscule muscle in your body. And you made up a new winter sport, sliding down snow packed trails while paddling with your hands That was a full-body workout, Self. Congratulations, you are in better shape than you have ever been. Today, your feelings are alive. You are self-aware–of every muscle and bone in your body.

My word for 2014 is enough

Enough.

I have decided. Enough is my word for 2014.

Enough is as good as a feast.
Enough food.
Enough sleep.
Enough exercise.
Enough books.
Enough beautiful location.

“If you are lucky enough to live in the mountains, you are lucky enough.”

Enough is such a useful word.
When things go wrong, I can throw up my hands and cry, “Enough already!”

Out with the idea that I am never;
perfect enough,
or pretty enough.

I only need enough to get me through one day at a time.
I am enough.

I can hike under blue skies in the bright spring sunshine and sigh, “It is enough.”
Enough to get me through that day.

I have lived to hold grandchildren in my arms. It is enough to have experienced that moment.

The beauty of a sunset, or a sunrise; the harmony of a song well performed, is enough to make life worthwhile.

Enough to get me through that day.

And when unwanted challenges come?

I will be enough.

Revisiting Failure

So, how long do you wait to revisit failures? Is ten years enough? And when you do revisit – after you have changed, matured, honed your skill and your character – are you still embarrassed by the past failure? Are you able to shake it off? Laugh it off?

When you review the performance, replay every beat and detail, suppose you see an abundance of excellence – maybe 95% excellence; does the five or four or three percent, or even the one mistake, one sour note, negate the whole and make it worthy of discard?

Yes, one loss demolishes a perfect record.
But does it have to destroy your entire future?

How long do you take to let it go? To retire the failure? To move on?

Here’s my story
An entire cadenza – avalanched. 1,000 copies stamped out and distributed. A huge fail permanently etched in polycarbonate. It took me 10 years to revisit and listen to the CD. It’s still bad. I can never fix it. The mistake cannot be erased.

Finally, I gathered courage to play in public again. This time, with more confidence, to a different audience. I am a richer musician; but, I still make mistakes.

During the opening ceremonies of the olympics, I was reminded by the announcer, “now entering the stadium are the best athletes in the world.” Gold medalists set a new standard for perfection. Silver medalists or bronze are not quite as perfect. What about those who compete but do not place? Surely their imperfections are showing. But, they are still among the best athletes in the world. I wonder; how long does it take them to get over their mistakes and failures? Some things cannot be undone. When is it time to revisit the failure, replay the recording? And when is it time to move on?