Square Peg’s Dance

I have always wondered how someone other than me can be so very sure of what the “me” of me truly is.  All those, on the outside, who spent such time and energy to straighten me into their ideas, their mold; to fit my square corners into their neat round mold.  Did anyone of them ever bother to get to know the authentic me?

Maybe the whole thing is a two way street. Not one side of this dilema is the truly wrong side. I think it is just a human misconception.  We, in our perfect fit little mold, sort of like jello in its pretty holiday tree mold, think we are so fine, such a perfect fit, so very comfortable with all our little selves pressing upon the sides of our personal molds just so very finely, thank you very much, can tell someone else how their own mold should fit.  We are all not in the tree mold, some of us are stars, some are perfect little squares.

In my years of living on this planet I seem to attrack those who see me as an “Improvement Project”.  One that they are sure they have all the necessary tools to finish me into the perfect fit in the mold they chose. But my corners never did fit. Sometimes the clash was just a bump, most times it was a bit of a hammer blow.

The words used to bend me were so very, very destructive. Words like; What you should do, you don’t know what you are doing, let me fix that for you, don’t you ever learn (this said with a frustrated sigh), how could you do that, stupid, and the classic last century phrase of you are acting like a girl.  Those comments of put down are meant not to help me improve, but to show their superiority.

No wonder I sometimes miss the person inside me who hides from those chipping away at who she is.  She has been tugged, stuffed, stretched, pushed, even smashed at time into some other’s mold in this life. The little one inside me is trying to figure out this life, just like everyone else.

At this stage of my life I am learning about me, who I am, what I really do like and do not like. What makes my heart sing, what makes it weep, what is most important to be around, what I just cannot be around.

I am still a bit of a square peg, but I have found a nice square corner that I am very content and comfortable to be in.  In his Sabbath Moment this first week of Advent; Terry Hershey tells us that true sanctuary is where we are at home with our own company. At first my thought was, “what if your own company is vague to you? That it has been so tugged out of shape by others that you are not sure you recognize it?

As I wrote that, the true self of my own company looked up from her comfy window seat in the corner and said “I have always been here, waiting for you to come and sit with me”. Then she opened up and let me in on the best and most wonderful secret; I am whole, I am complete, I am a perfect fit into the mold I was made to fill up.

I spend myself freely for those I love. I cry when something touches my heart. I will defend those I love with every fiber of my being. I so enjoy designing and decorating my home, it is an exercise in creating beauty. I have been blessed with a deep, abiding faith in God. I feel fulfilled when I do things for his kingdom. I have been given the gift of writing. I am a keen learner and love the whole process of learning. I don’t much like algebra, but am quite good at math. If I was rich , it wouldn’t be mine too long, for I would then be able to get all those little special things I see for all those I love so much. I give my heart freely, only taking it back when the love in it is rejected.  I so love reading that I will injure my neck strain my eyes to finish that last chapter in that great book. And yes, I am a bit old-fashioned for I so love its sublties and its elegance.  My Ohana are the heart of my being, my love, my prayers cover them where ever in this great big world they are.

I am still a square peg, I am sure their will be some people who will try to knock off those oh so pointy edges of mine. So the dance will continue as we swirl around this life’s dancefloor together.  I do know that I am here on this earth, because God put me here, right now, at this time in time to be the me he made me to be.

 

 

 

 

 

And so it begins…

As I sit here in my little house, living my little life, looking out on my little porch, with my two little dogs who are such great buds; the thought of what today means to so many made me think of what this Sunday means to me.

One thing I can say for sure is that it does not mean the beginning of a shopping marathon. I did not hear a starting pistol on Thanksgiving evening, I did not get caught up in the hype for the “bargain of the season” and race out to be 200th in line for said bargain.  There was nothing I could see, or hear of, that would entice me out for the whole of the night.  I do admit to being in that crowd of bargain hunters once.  And that was all it took.  Witnessing people at the frenzy of shopping hypnosis was only a one time thing for me.  Watching my fellow human beings literally battle one another, tooth and nail, for a cell phone was not something I will choose to be witness to again.  The long lines at checkout were the forerunner of Purgatory; where we will all stand in line, holding our hard won specials, while the clerk at the register slowly pulls the items across the scanner in the sluggish boredom of a teenager at Aunties house.

After that escapade I decided that there was not one item on my wish list that would ever entice me out in the dark of night to engage in the Consumer Games ever again.  I have even gone so far as to do my utmost to not even go near any business on those days between Thanksgiving evening and Sunday night.  So far this year I have held to my principles.  I have not set foot in any retail, big box, or mall store.

So, what does this time mean to me? It a time of preparation. A time of getting ready for the biggest event in the whole history of mankind.  It is a time of cleaning up, a time of self reflection, a time to jettison anything that does not keep me moving forward.

Father, in his Homily last night at Mass, talked about his parents reminding him that he had to be very, very good for the Christ child to bring him anything.  Father, who is from Mexico, talked about how his parents would remind him of what truly happened on Christmas Eve.  He also said he could not sleep on Christmas Eve, in anticipation of seeing what the Child would bring him in celebration of his birth.  For to receive from the Christ on that night, his behavior had to be the best he could do.

Advent is like Lent, we are waiting for a monumental event. God is doing something so huge, so wonderful, so incredibly fantastic, that we need to be ready for it.  We need to be the best we can be.  The days that lead up to the birth of the Savior give us time to be prepared.  Our altars are covered in purple, the priest wears purple vestments, we light purple candles.  But only three purple ones, the fourth, just before the big event, is pink. Joyful pink. Happy pink.

This season is so much more than parties, and shopping, and who gets what, and getting caught in the frenzy of shopping and doing.  It is a time to set aside a few minutes to truly ponder what that long ago tiny baby’s coming meant to this world we live in.  This is a time to take an extra fifteen minutes in the morning to just sit quiet and think about that night two millenia ago.

And, this is a time, just like Lent, to discard one thing, a habit maybe, just one, that you know is not the best habit you can have. Just for four weeks, stop doing that one thing and fill that space with a good thing for you.  And  like  the time in Lent, you might find that the habit becomes and non-habit. And the new thing brings you not only good, but that wonderful Joy that this season is all about.  Reconnect with the true meaning of this season and find the Joy once again.

We all know somethings  we do, some habits we have acquired,  just sort of happened.  We have seen the young people with their heads stuck in their smart phones or tablets thinking they are being “social”.  This is a season to limit that time on those devices that are supposed to be helpers not the Lords of Time that suck it all up! But we have to face the fact that it isn’t just the young, it is all of us. Fascination with the newest gadget is not a new phenomenon, it has been going on since human beings have been on earth.   So, this Advent might be a great time to set limits on that gadget that steals your time and your ability to interact with fellow humans.

What ever it is, what ever you find that you would like to get rid of or improve or just clean out,that is your gift to the Christ child. One that he will take and make an incredible gift for you on that special night in four weeks. One that is worth being up all night in anticipation of receiving.

May this Advent bring the best of gifts to you on Christmas—Christ the Lord!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the Bottom of My Heart

I am a transplant, from it seems more than one place here in these United States.  I have a little of Ohio, a touch of South Carolina and quite a bit of Florida in me. Ohio didn’t take to well to me, or in all honesty me to it; but South Carolina spoke to my Southern heart.  For all that great flavoring from those other states with all they have to offer there is one that left it’s stamp on that Southern leaning heart of mine.

I am a California girl. I do not speak Valley, though I can understand it mostly. I don’t surf, but do love watching others surf. I don’t swim in the Pacific Ocean, not my environment, though I will sail or steam or motor on the surface.  I can speak fairly good King’s English, with out the embelishments of too many “far outs” or “dudes! peppering my conversation.  But I am definately a California girl.

One of the blessing of living in Florida as I do now is the accepting sort of glow the population has here.  When I was a little girl living here, it was the same way. Accepting that the Snow Birds come by November and leave by no later than the Easter.  Accepting that people from all over the world, especialy the Carribean sort of end up here. I love that about Florida, I settled in pretty fast and am very happy.

But, that California in me pops out at the oddest times.  Like asking the butcher at Publix if he has tri-tip; his response being a totaly blank look followed by “is that beef?”.  Or my wonderful perfect beach pink hat I wear on my walks with my dogs. The old men here in my park just smile and stare; the women look at me like I am such an oddity.  It even comes out in my home decor.  Lots of wonderful reds, soft blues, perfectly blended with light orange and Tobin Winery accessories. (No one here has any idea what or who Tobin is; only the best winery in Central Coast!)  Or the need to be outside when the sun is shining. Or the fountain that is always on sending its muted song of falling water all through my little abode.

I come by California girl honestly, I lived there for 54 years. From the last of the 50’s into the new millenium.  I saw it change from a place where wild, untamed beauty was only no more than a fifteen minute drive away to the patches of that wild beauty being tamed and stamped with exclusive and exorbitant prices so only the super rich, or as my Mom called them “filthy rich”, could afford to even entertain the idea of that incredible wildness.  I saw the freeways take over the orange groves and create an never ending flow of cookie-cutter houses.  I saw the drive go from one quaint small town with expanses of glorious rolling hill covered with wildflowers, to ribbons of concrete joining up more ribbons of concrete. I lived through the California that my mother grew up with turn into a developers villa on the Cote d’Azure.  I saw those beautiful quaint towns die a slow and agonizing death into the malls, the freeways, the industrial complexes that covered up the wildflowers.

That California still lives inside of me, and a whole lot of others from the last century just like me who have it tucked inside of them.  Some of us have been literaly priced out of that beautiful state, others are sticking it out for the love of the place. It gives those of us who are in exile warm and wonderful friends and relations to see when we go back. A people who understand our need to come back every once in a while to touch California dirt.  A place to launch our memories from as we overlay the concrete with the wildflowers in our hearts.

There are still beaches to walk, still wild places to see, still beauty to drink in. They are just harder to find, farther afield and down that off ramp on the right from that concrete ribbon.  And, sometimes, someone has put a ticket booth at the end of the ramp.

California will be inside of me for what ever is left of my life here on this earth.  My California isnt made of concrete and steel. My California is made of purple lupine, tall mustard, bright orange poppies and blue ragging ocean.  And those other Californians who love me, the memories we share and the sorrow over the
“paving of paradise”.