Hurrah Hosta

_{Photo by Fiona Art on Pexels.com}

When schedules and plans screw up, I owe my “it wasn’t meant to be” reaction to a former friend, Chris T. I met him over 30 years ago when black and white thinking, also known as a dichotomous thinking, caused me much disappointment when situations didn’t work out as planned.

You see, a few months after I met Chris, I was highly anticipating an upcoming out-of-town weekend away with a friend. Then she called me a week prior to our planned three-day excursion to inform me that she had to cancel our plans, because of family obligations.

Never mind black and white. All I saw was red. Even though she profusely apologized and the hotel agreed to refund our room deposits, I just couldn’t let the anger go. My emotions soared, as if I were commanding the wheel of a fire engine headed to a 24/7 wave of emergency blazes. Three days after reeling from disappointment, I ran into Chris and nearly hyperventilated as I conveyed my despair over my canceled trip.

When I finished explaining my situation, he simply stared at me and belted out, “So? So?”

I stood baffled at his response, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s a damn GOOD thing you’re not going!”

“What?” My bafflement was now more like shock.

“It wasn’t meant to be. Do you know you could have been involved in a car accident if you had gone? Maybe paralyzed for life — or maybe something worse. It’s a damn good thing you didn’t go. You should be grateful … ”

On and on he went. I felt as if I had accidentally landed on some remote island, met one of the natives and was trying with great difficulty to understand the language. I walked away without fully grasping the point he was making, but he planted a seed.

As my relationship with Chris grew, my perceptions about my life outlook slowly widened. I started comprehending the notion of gray thinking and, by doing so, I added a lot of interesting colors on my life palate. I mean, black and white aren’t even considered to be colors!

Below is an excellent explanation that I found on the internet of why:

“In physics, a color is visible light with a specific wavelength. Black and white are not colors because they do not have specific wavelengths. Instead, white light contains all wavelengths of visible light. Black, on the other hand, is the absence of visible light.”

As I consciously practiced this new, more flexible lifestyle, and learned to let go of unplanned outcomes, my trips to the gastroenterologist became less frequent. Over thirty years later, I cannot tell you how this conscious practice saves me each and every time when my black and white thinking returns, because it still does.

Take for instance, over a week ago. As much as I wanted to leave the house early and embark on a walk around the neighborhood, I left later than planned. By then, it was hot and humid, and it was making me feel crankier than usual. In fact, I almost turned around to return home. Those little critic critters in my mind kept beating my brain, saying, “You should have left earlier. You should have left earlier.”

Finally, I just shouted repeatedly to them: “Shut up!”

The strategy worked. It usually does. I made the rest of my walk in relative solitude. Looping back around, about 10 minutes away from home, I espied a sign, “FREE!” A kind, generous neighbor had plopped up the sign against a few dozen uprooted hosta plants that were for the taking. The plants had not been there when I had first started my walk. They were a gift to me, because it solved my dilemma as far as what type of flora I should plant around the house. I ended up picking the lot up later and putting them in my car’s trunk. A week later, they are growing nicely.

So, the moral of the story is: if I had left for my walk as planned, I would have missed the plant giveaway! Even though in my mind, the timing of the walk was off, it was, in actuality, exactly right! It illustrates exactly Chris’ point that changed my life so long ago.

Now, fast forward a few days later: thanks to the influence of Chris T. in my life and thanks to the hosta, I didn’t get too depressed about not being able to attend the Connecticut Press Club awards presentation last Wednesday.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I tested positive for COVID-19 and was unable to attend.

Instead of being recognized for winning FIRST prize for blogging and an honorable mention for travel writing at the awards ceremony and having an opportunity to meet the presenter, who is a pretty well-know author, I watered newly planted hosta that night.

As a “consolation prize,” I squirted the hose, watered down my sad emotions and lectured myself that there was a reason that it was better I did not attend the ceremony. ‘Who knows,’ I told myself, ‘maybe I would have tripped and twisted my ankle … or … ’ It simply wasn’t meant to be. Have a little faith and just say ‘thanks’ to the universe for blocking the whole shindig.

I dreaded looking at the event’s Facebook pic, but I forced myself to observe all the smiling faces, and I even offered my “Congrats!” to the winners. They really looked happy. Ego aside, I was happy for them.

Two days after the awards presentation, the good news is, I tested negative and I am Covid-free. Admittedly, still tired and a tad congested, but I have the best winner’s circle: a clean bill of health and one of the most empathetic and inspirational blogging communities I can imagine. In addition, I also have an assortment of hostas that lift their stalks up to the sun and remind me that roaring success is based on daily building blocks of achievements, such as making the bed first thing in the morning and watering the plants before nightfall.

Faith Muscle

New year solutions instead of new year resolutions

I was cleaning my daughter’s room and found a somewhat flat carton smaller than a toddler’s shoe box.

My daughter had used a black Sharpie to pen the front of the box.“I can’t keep this stuff anymore.”

Since it was my daughter’s private domain, I did not peek into the box. However, the discovery inspired me to reflect on the idea of Letting Go of the negative things in our lives. For example, ridding ourselves of tangible belongings like photos or mementos that don’t make us feel good anymore or liberating ourselves from things like dark thoughts.

Consider making this year the year to permanently clear mental and physical clutter. Then you can make room for new stuff. Better stuff. Or no stuff. With the new year upon us, maybe instead of making resolutions, you can clear the old things that tie you down and make room for solutions.

What kind of “stuff” can you rid yourself of in this new year? Perhaps, hurtful memories, regrets and/or negative thinking. Maybe there’s a toxic relationship that’s too painful to hold onto; perhaps you need to dump a stale frame of mind and spark it with new interests like enrolling in a foreign language class.

Plenty has been written about the benefits of eliminating the physical-mental clutter; for instance, the process can help you increase productivity.

I read and reviewed a book a couple of years ago, Do the Clearing by John Benz. Admittedly, I wrote one of the few reviews that wasn’t a four or five-star review, which, in retrospect, I might change, because the premise that the author makes in the book sticks with me all these years later. Here’s an excerpt from the book, “Do The Clearing helps you let go of what’s holding you back….It’s your restart. It’s your chance to remove what’s in the way, to connect with what’s special inside of you so you can perform better, live better, and simply be happier.”

Of course, for people who are living in crisis or experiencing profound loss, there isn’t an on/off switch for their streams of emotions that can swallow them whole.

Losing jobs, people and experiencing catastrophic things are serious and nothing can replace the natural process it requires to get through these times. But if, perchance, you can ditch even one negative thought and, instead, maybe take a brisk walk in a “no stinking thinking zone,” it can help you in the healing process.

Sometimes you have to work at faith; like thinking outside the box by filling another box, real or metaphorically, with the “stuff you can’t keep anymore.” Happy New Year!

Stay tuned!…until next time…walk by faith not by sight!

touched by an angel

Trampoline of life

A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

Proverbs 18:24

Last week’s blog post brought a bevy of supportive responses from other bloggers, friends and my lovely niece who immediately shot me a text probing the current state of affairs at our household.

So, this week, I really want to say, “Thank you spotters!”

You see, life to me is a trampoline; up and down, sometimes more up, sometimes really, really down. When things get topsy-turvy, I know I have support. I always visualize my “spotters” as those who stand around my trampoline of life, ready to catch me when I fall.

This metaphor has been a very comforting visual to me through these turbulent years. Along the way, I’ve lost a few spotters, gained others, but most times had someone who would catch me.

Human nature what it is, more times than not, I focus on the grief, struggle and hardship from my out-of-control trampoline and not on my selfless spotters. Likewise, I need to set my attention not on falling, but on being caught.

The most difficult challenge has been letting go of spotters. I have spent hours figuring out why they vanish. Bottom line is, who is meant to spot at that moment, is the one meant to be there. That’s faith in a nutshell.

My spotters are “God behind skin.”  They are my faithful supporters, my guides; they let me know that faith is not always blind, but sometimes is delivered in three-dimensional form. And, here’s another face of faith. During those times when I felt like I was close to taking a final plunge off the trampoline of life, I did not do it.  You see, spotting is a two-way job. I have to be available to exchange roles. Spotting is good for me since it peels me away from my tiny pin-holed view of a trampoline and affords me a more sweeping look at the bigger picture, which makes life feel so much more manageable.

Now in a trailblazing life such as mine, the falls have never and will never be unavoidable. Instead, it is the way in which I fall. When I am confident that at least one pair of strong arms will catch me, I take the leap of faith. I let go. Give up the reins. Lean in and go with the flow. I have traveled both ways—holding on and letting go—and one thing I am certain of: Grace cannot pour forth when hands with an iron grip suffocate it. On the trampoline of life, no matter how high the ups go and low the downs go, a little trust, and I have something to fall into.

Until next time….Faith forward!