I'm remembering...

Love teaching meditation again!  It has been more than four years since I've taught meditation or meditated with a group.

Here is what meditation means to me...I don't know squat.  Seriously.  Meditation affords me the luxury of stepping out of knowing anything, or believing anything.

I sit, I set the timer, and I consciously decide to sit for the next pre-determined minutes in "I don't know."  Wide open, clean slate, dumb as a doorknob.  

A member of my 12 step family asked if I would teach her to meditate.  I was thrilled and said sure and let's see if any other of our group members want to join.  Today was the first day of a 4 week mini-course, and guess who is the most inspired?  Moi!

I get so, so tired of knowing everything!  What a relief it is to remember I don't know squat.

What Defines a Career?

1. Usherette at Houston Astrodome first year it opened.
2. File clerk at title company
3. Clerk/typist at Texas A&M Library
4. Lab tech in A&M Poultry Science Dept
5. Homemaker/mother
6. Secretary at Bering Drive Church of Christ
7. Adm. Assistant at BA Mortgage Co in Houston
8. Adm. Assistant at Waggett-Tawney Executive Recruiters
9. Legal secretary for Roy Willbern
10. Public relations account executive at Bozell & Jacobs, Houston, TX
11. Leasing agent for Wm Swift Co, Houston, TX
12. Licensed real estate agent at Vanguard Properties, Austin, TX
13. Licensed real estate broker, Robyn Whyte Interests, Austin, TX
14. Co-manager Longhorn Ranch Motel and Restaurant, Big Bend, TX
15. Accounting clerk Apple Annies Café, Austin, TX
16. Spiritual teacher, poet, retreat leader and meditation instructor
17. Bookkeeper, All Saints Episcopal Church, Austin, TX
18. Bookkeeper, Lowell Lebermann
19. Co-owner Bryte Constructs General Contractor
20. Director of Operations, Roscoe Properties – property management
21. VP Operations, Roscoe Properties – property management

The list above of every job or position I have ever held illustrates my multi-faceted background and highlights my lifetime aversion to planning.  With the exception of homemaker/mother there is not one occupation on that list that is the culmination of a childhood dream.  As a child I assumed that I would not work-outside-the-home unless my husband died (divorce was unthinkable) thus forcing me to get a job.  Thankfully, my mom made sure I learned how to type for just that eventuality.

Though I did not dream of having a job, I did dream of being a performer – a singer/actor, perhaps comedian.  I dreamt of being front and center, evoking laughter and applause, maybe even tears.  The performer dream was just that, a dream.  I never seriously considered pursuing it, and lawyer, surgeon, engineer, real estate agent, bookkeeper etc never entered my mind either.

My first job, a summer job, was at the age of 17.  Today I am at that certain age and stage in life when one “looks back and takes stock.”  As I create this jobs list I can remember being in each of those situations; the buildings, the people, the work… primarily the people..  The list of jobs is a hodge-podge that doesn’t add up to much, doesn’t really fit the definition of “career.”   My “career path” was primarily driven by my need to take care of myself and my children as best I could with the skills I had.

As I reflect on all this, it occurs to me that my career has been more about relationships than occupations. 

As I flitted from job to job, occupation to occupation, I rubbed shoulders with good, kind, interesting, challenging, courageous, funny, well-meaning people.  In every case, the value of each job was less about the task at hand and more about my co-workers and clients.  I unthinkingly assumed that I had forgotten most of them and that surely they have forgotten me.  But when I re-visit each job in my mind, I vividly remember the people who were there with me.   Remembering all those sojourners makes the prevailing theme of my working life abundantly clear.  It was about the people, Stupid.

I knew it would come to this...now what?

Almost three months have passed since I stepped off the treadmill.  Am I fading away, becoming invisible?  Forgotten?  Do I want to be remembered?

Relief is gradually turning to expectation.  What now?  Which direction?  Who decides?  Does anyone want or need me?  Who?  Where?

Is there a discernible calling?  Shall I lean in the direction of The Encourager and Poet?  The Certified Property Manager?  The Co-owner of Bryte Constructs LLC?  The Bookkeeper?  The Real Estate Agent?  The Motel/Restaurant Manager?  Might I just wait tables at Dans?

Is there something new?  Some road not yet taken?  Shall I beat the bushes, fly resumes into the unknown, drum up bidness?

What is my highest and best use?  Who will pay me to do what?  Shall I look for signs, omens, portents?  Do I go after it, or let it come to me?  Can I be found?

I have a crazy quilt of experience, uncoordinated skill set, a longing for this stage of my life to be more authentic, a desire to learn something new and get paid for it.  Knitting isn’t as satisfying as it was a month ago.

I Know These Women

Tomorrow I head southeast to join some fab women for the weekend.  These are not just any ole women; these women are like, really cool.  And boy do they dredge up great memories of my former life, my pre-Roscoe life.

For lotsa years these women --10 in all -- met with me twice a year at the Red Corral Ranch near Wimberley to explore what It all means.  They are Christian--mainstream and not so mainstream--Jewish, and not-so-sures.  They met, mostly, in a Houston business networking group and made the bold decision to “step out” of their busy Houston lives to ponder and consider what makes life meaningful and more harmonious.  

On retreat, we sat together, usually in a circle, indoors and out, and told the truth.  They asked one another questions; they drew pictures and played games; they brushed each other’s hair and ate wonderful meals together, some in silence.  They meditated, shed tears, and they danced.

During those years some married, some divorced and some remained single, some received scary diagnoses, some became cancer free.  Some left jobs, some took jobs.  Some dropped out, most didn’t.  Some moved away from Houston but stayed connected.   All aged and became more beautiful.

When, four years ago, I accepted a full time job at Roscoe and I told these cool women that I no longer led spiritual retreats they continued to get together on occasion because they love each other.  A stray email found its way to me announcing they were gathering in October.  I sent a smoke signal asking if I might join them.  They said yes.  Tomorrow I will drive to be with them.  

It will help me remember who I am.

Fine Tuning

Searching for the melody,

The one I remember from my earliest years,

The one composed for my part in the choir

Taught to me before I could speak.

In order to harmonize with it

I must first hear it, recall it, tune into it.

There is a melody with my name on it

No better nor worse than yours, just mine.

We are all better off when I find the right notes,

If all these years have taught me anything it is that

it is much better to stop singing and listen for the tune

Rather than continue off key.

These days are about listening, not dropping out.

Looking for just the right pitch before re-joining the choir.

Could it be that I am no longer an alto?  

Perhaps a tenor, or second soprano?

Voices change over time.

When today I sing in the privacy of my own mind

I hear a different tonality,

My voice has taken on a slightly different color, texture.

My song, though familiar, has a few added notes,

Some higher, some lower,

My range has altered.

Until I can master it

There is no choice but to feel

Tentative.

Me, Tame?

Recently some friends and I were discussing the power of the internet.  I told them that I had heard about a fella who interviewed for a job, and the interviewer was very favorably impressed until she searched the internet for info about him.  It seems he has a blog in which he discusses in detail his daily struggle with mental illness.  Oops.  

I then shared that when I heard that story I had kind of an “oh shit” moment, realizing that I am unemployed and recently started a blog!  One of my friends responded, in an attempt to be reassuring, I’m sure, that I needn’t worry as my blog was “quite tame!”  Me, tame?

Another friend asked me why, since I am so 'quick witted and  funny" in person, my writing is not funny?  Damn. 

I’m really working overtime on trying to come up with something shocking and hilarious; something that could cost me a job, ruin my reputation and embarrass my family and at the same time make you laugh or at least smirk.   I’ll get back with you on this.

Fire

Today autumn visited Austin.  I say “visited” because in our neck of the woods she comes and goes.  But oh my!  The first day she drops by each year is glorious.  Facebook pages of Austinites light up with exclamations about open windows, bike rides, renewed energy.

Because I am unemployed and at home on this first day of noticeable fall I am able to engage in one of my favorite pastimes.. fire building .  Our homestead is surrounded by oaks and elms, so fallen tree limbs are a common occurrence.  And because we do not live in the city limits, we can burn!

I wrote recently about knitting as a meditation.  Add fire building and fire watching to the list.  I become mesmerized by starting the fire, adding fuel to the fire, rearranging the fire, stoking the fire, watching the fire.

When John and I left Terlingua many moons ago, we camped in a tent for three months in national forests throughout New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Montana and South Dakota.  Each evening we would build a fire and sit and watch, as if it were a TV.  As there is no fire remote, I would periodically have to stoke the fire or add more wood to the fire...play with it.  Those are nostalgia days for us in large part because of those evening fires.

Today I am home alone with fall in the air and a small bonfire on our property.  The neighborhood is quiet -- it’s just me and Tunia and the fire.  I am relaxed.  I am at peace. I am grateful.  

I'm Addicted to News

How to explain my addiction to news?  I visit multiple news websites daily, multiple times.  What is it about the taste of current events that I find so compelling?  It doesn’t make sense.

I’ve several friends who’ve sworn off -- they just don’t go there anymore.  My husband reads the Sports section only, the only section I toss aside.  I, on the other hand, check in daily with CNN, Google News, Politico, Huffington Post, Daily Beast, USA Today, News 8 Weather, NPR News, Slate, Salon, New York Times and yes even People.  And for the most part, I find it depressing.  Sad, really.

I want people to get along and play nicely with one another.  I want our elected officials to behave like mature adults.  I feel powerless reading about natural disasters and starving, displaced humanity.  The daily drumbeat of joblessness, rising poverty stats, bankruptcies, homelessness and frustration wears me down.

I want our country to provide equal healthcare benefits for every citizen -- a system that operates with no cheaters, no loop hole divers, no corruption.  I want the folks who pour into our country from Mexico without permission to have a way to live without fear--we need to provide them with a clear, tough but legal pathway to legitimacy.  I don’t like  feeling ashamed that my religious heritage is Christian.  I want gay folks to feel normal and welcome in our society and appreciated for all they contribute.  I want sexual predators of any stripe, be they Catholic priests or porn drenched perverts, to be isolated and rehabilitated.  You get my drift.

The antidote I generally rely on is recalling myself to attend to my own sphere of influence. beginning with my own mind.  The truly nourishing news is within, really.  When I access She Who Knows, the taste of optimism and gratitude creeps back in.  It is my best shot at behaving like a mature adult and playing well with others.  I’m also reminded how difficult it is, day in and day out, how much vigilance is required.   Please God, don’t let me get caught on CNN.

Knitting

When I was about 10 years old my grandmother taught me to knit.  Of her 6 granddaughters I was the only one who ever showed any interest in her clacking needles.  I was mesmerized watching her rhythmic hands perform the same elegant motion over and over while she silently built something useful and beautiful.

During cold winters and during the most introspective periods of my life, I turn to knitting.  Knitting keeps me seated, holds me still, allows me to day dream and ponder.  It focuses my attention so that my mind can wander free.  When I'm knitting, I don't worry about wasting time "doing nothing."  I'm building.

My hands are following a pattern, a blueprint, adhering to a plan to create a shawl, or blanket, cap or sweater.  Sometimes I say to myself, "let this knitting be a prayer," with the hope and intention that while my hands build my mind will free itself to be open to revelation.  These days, between occupations, I don't want to miss a single revelation!

And, knitting is a great way to tune in to other folks.  Recently I took my knitting to a group meeting and found by occupying my hands I was able to better focus on what each person was sharing.  A group member commented after the meeting that he noticed I was not swinging my leg while I knitted!  I guess if my hands are busy I can keep my feet still.  Who knew?

If any of you want to bring your yarn and needles and sit with me awhile, I'd love the company. If you would like to learn to knit, I can get you started.  It would make my grandmother proud.

Conscious Choices

Today is the beginning of the sixth week of unemployment.  Someone mentioned last night how much more relaxed I appear.  How did I appear before?  Scary thought.

My cousin, Margaret, sent me a book rec.  Trusting her judgment I bought the book and find it very intriguing.  LEAP! What Will We Do with the Rest of Our Lives? by Sara Davidson explores the experience of baby boomers who are faced with 20-30 more years of living but no longer want to (or can't) do what they have always done.   She interviews numerous boomers  who are  rounding that corner and making a wide variety of conscious choices.

Personally, I'm enjoying relaxing and at the same time asking myself what I really want to do.  Most of my adult life I have "fallen into" occupations rather than making a conscious choice.  However, two conscious choices in the past do stand out.

John and I made the decision to step out of life as we knew it and move to Big Bend country to manage a little motel and restaurant owned by a group of folks in Switzerland. What an adventure that was!  I still view it as one of the best choices this city girl ever made.

Upon returning from our 2 years in Big Bend, I made the conscious decision to go into "spiritual work."  I had no credentials, no theology degrees, no ordinations or certifications.  I just knew that if I could spend time exploring reality and Reality with other folks I would feel fortunate.  And sure enough with each client I met with and each poem I wrote, I did indeed feel privileged.

Both of those choices rewarded me with some of the most satisfying and challenging experiences in my life, thus far.  Both of these decisions followed a time of deep introspection and learning to trust deep intuition.  I think I'll try that again.