Tag Archives: letting go

Don’t Sweat the stuff

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It’s another sunny but cool Saturday morning. But I see that it’s warmed up to 8℃ from the 0 of 7 am. Already it is 23℃ in the greenhouse. It’s an hour before noon so I should not be surprised. I’ve pushed the mop around the most needed places. It helps to start moving right after breakfast and dishes. Otherwise I could just sag all day.

I am happy and proud to say that I’ve done the most hard thing for today. I was tempted to sit and rest on my laurels after doing the floors. The turkey in the fridge keep popping up in my mind. I was thinking, ‘how the hell was I going to get it cooked’? I was overwhelmed just thinking about it. I do recall that I’ve done it a few times before. Theoretically, I can do it. I do have Chef John’s Roast Turkey recipe. I was overthinking. I need to stop the thoughts and start doing.

The doing is done. The turkey is cleaned and spiced up sitting on top of chopped onions, carrots and celery in the roaster. It’s all ready for the oven when it is time. I’m sitting pretty here with my tea and tapping out my words for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It’s another lesson in not sweating the stuff, big or little. But it’s easier said than done. I have to keep reminding and watching myself – on where and how my energy is spent. Am I overthinking, over reacting, repeating the same mistakes over and over? Am I doing the same things, hoping for different results?

I hate to admit it, but often the answer is yes. I am a fixer, a mender of fences even though from experience some fences cannot be mended. Though that has been hammered into me quite a few times by my neighbours, I still find it difficult to believe that I can’t explain, reason, appeal – fix it somehow. It was hard for me to accept that they don’t like me even though we don’t have a personal relationship. We just live next to each other. It’s a good lesson in not taking anything personally or other people’s stuff. It’s also a reminder to look at myself and my own behavior. Am I also guilty of the same?

It’s Easter weekend, not a time to dwell on grievances, past or present. It’s a good thing I can’t see into future ones. I choose to let go of everything and be open to all possibilities. It is a good time to re-read Richard Carlson’s Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, and It’s All Small Stuff and Miquel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements. Happy Easter!

Unbecoming the Worse in Me

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It’s September the 4th. A cloudy grey morning but at least the smoke is gone. The air quality is a 2 from yesterday’s 11. I’m juicing the last of my brother’s apples. I could have gotten more but less and enough are what I am working on now. My lizard brain gets so easily addicted on a good thing. It’s difficult to put up a limit and stop. It was will power as I said no to more apples, all the while gazing at the beautiful, bigger apples still on the tree. I had to keep the thoughts of that I have only x number of energy and that I can only drink so much apple juice. That goes for making and eating apple jelly.

I’m still struggling with unbecoming the worse parts of me, the parts that no longer works. It’s hard to let go because they’ve been with me forever and a day. They’re almost like friends but I wouldn’t call them that. They’re more like jealous sisters. What/where/who would I be without them? That’s the fear of letting go of the known. They’re the anchors that weigh me down.

I am getting better at letting go of the fear, even if it is ever so slow. It’s one step at a time. Sometimes the steps are in the wrong direction. I regress instead of progress. And I have to start anew. That’s where I am right now, switching directions, going forward again. Steps are hard. Finding the words are hard. Finding heart is hard. Tomorrow is a new day and another start.

Life is Difficult

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M. Scott Peck wasn’t kidding with his first line in The Road Less Travelled. Life is difficult. I have found that it’s never perfect and seldom smooth. Some days I’m falling asleep in early evening watching my favourite crime show. Other nights, like last night, I could not sleep past 2 am. Not too many days ago, we were sweltering in +30℃, sleeping with all the windows wide opened. Now all the windows are closed and I’m snuggling in my old pink fuzzy housecoat.

Talking about M. Scott Peck, he wasn’t so perfect either. Checking him out, I found that his first wife was Lily Ho Chinese. From an article in the Guardian “He spent much of his life immersed in cheap gin, chain-smoking cigarettes and inhaling cannabis, and being persistently unfaithful to his wife, who eventually divorced him. He also went through estrangement with two of his three children.” He sounds like a scoundrel. I wonder why he and his book were so successful. I have to read it again. It’s on my bookshelf.

I do wonder if I have been reading the wrong books, worshipping the wrong heroes and tripping down the wrong paths. How is one to know though? Having arrived here at this point in my life, I think it wiser to choose the easier and well trodden path first. It would be easier going and retreating. It would save time and energy to begin anew. It is hind sight and too late for me. It’s what I would advise if I was asked but who listens to advice. Not me.

So here I am, not exactly stuck and not doing terribly. I am just tapping and bitching. It helps me in the process of letting go. It’s never easy for me. I hang on and hang on. Thoughts and feelings swirling around like a snow globe. It is how I am. I can learn to a little better but it is my nature. It does me less harm if I tap it out rather than forcing myself into being perfect and never stray off the path.

HANGING ON – LETTING GO

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Now that I’m back in the saddle, I’m hanging on. 11 more days left in the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Do I have it in me to finish? My cold is still hanging on. Frustration doesn’t help it go away. I’m learning that I have to let go to loosen its grip on me. It isn’t though. I feel like standing on my head. Not being able to, I don a mask and took a short walk around the garden. The mask keeps the cool air out and my throat not so dry. The short walk provided a short reprieve for my discomforts.

I haven’t gotten very far with editing this website. Now is not the time to do it. It will only add to my frustrations and make my hair stand on end. It’s hard to resist though. We’re all addicted to pushing buttons. And before you know it, a whole bunch of time have past with no good results. I’ve only pushed a few buttons. I’ve stopped.

I am feeling a bit better. Having a chrysanthemum tea and a snack. They hit the right spot. The way to a woman’s heart is also through the stomach. I will wind this post up, pick up my knitting and watch another episode of Vera. Murder mysteries is also a balm for me.

UBC Day 16 & 17 – The world is Flat

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These days, I am hard pressed to feel the joie de vivre. The world/life feels rather flat. However, the jukebox in my head is still playing happy tunes. It helps that it’s sunny even though it is a cool morning. I’m having a second cup of tea and tapping a few words. They no longer come easily or bring the pleasure they once did. I’m having to work at it. They do bring some satisfaction as I see them slowly marching across the screen.

Meanwhile, in between ideas, words and paragraphs, bread is in the making. I’m in the process of the first rising. When I look at it, making bread is much like building a post. It can be complicated and daunting till you get familiar and make a regular habit of it. Then everything becomes second nature, intuitive and the thing builds itself. It becomes a comforting process, ironing out the wrinkles and stress of everyday life.

Now, the water, yeast and flour have become dough. It is poofing in the oven for an hour or until I’m ready to punch it down and shape them into the loaf pans. There is no hurry. Meanwhile, I’m having another cuppa and process some thoughts and words that came whilst kneading dough. They are elusive and fleeting. If I don’t tap them down, they will be lost. They are rather important insights which will help me have an easier and happier life.

It’s taken me this long, a lifetime, to fully understand the concept of not taking anything personal and letting go. It finally dawned on me this summer that when I’m hanging on to perceived hurts and wrong doings by others, I’m only hurting myself. Those ‘others’ don’t give a shit. They’ve moved on and having a merry old time with their lives. Meanwhile, I’m wasting time and energy embroiled in my own toxic emotions, solving nothing and harming myself. But until I had this moment of clarity, I could not let go.

The loaves are baking in the oven. I’m almost finished here. Wrapping up, I have to say I’m grateful for this space. It’s worth the struggle to put words onto the page. It keeps me somewhat sane and healthy. Now I see that the world is not flat. So I will struggle on.

JUNE – metamorphosis 3

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My finest hours are the early first ones in the morning. After I have my morning tea, I like to wander out into the yard, stretch my mind and body. I can call it my working garden meditation. This morning I wanted to check our haskaps. Sometimes the birds find their way in under the netting. So far they haven’t gotten tangled in it but I could hear them flapping, trying to get out. No birds this morning. I got a 1 gram honey container full of purple fruit. I have another container full from the other day. I shall clean and freeze them till I figure out what to do with them. Sometimes I wait too long to do things and they end up spoiling and wasted. So learning to move along timely is part of my June metamorphosis journey.

Harvesting, cleaning and storing our produce are important. Equally important is using them. I’ve been harvesting our rhubarb, washing, chopping and freezing them in their prime. I’ve done so in the past, but they sat in the freezer and ended up in the compost after a couple of years. This winter, someone will be making rhubarb wine. I might have to nag a little. I’m waiting till I get enough strawberries from our patch to make a rhubarb strawberry cobbler. I’m learning to plan a little instead of always flying by the seat of my pants.

I’m enjoying my second cup of tea. I hope I don’t fall back into my old habits of too much again. Me thinks I worry too much sometimes. It’s good to let go, pamper and treat oneself once in awhile. The other evening, I took the birthday boy out for supper. It is not an easy thing for me to celebrate anything or go to an unaccustomed restaurant. I sucked it up bit back my uncomfortable feelings and proceeded full speed ahead. It’s a curious thing but I used to get intimidated by hairdressers and waiters/waitresses in fancy places. They seemed sophisticated and me so country bumpkinish. But I decided I had enough of that and let it all go. Afterall I’ve been breathing and walking this earth a few years now. I’m feeling pretty sophisticated myself. I let go and had a blast. Even though it was not my birthday, I celebrated it as my own birth out of the cocoon.

You just know that it’s going to be a high priced ticket when a hostess escorts you to a table, followed by a waitress, each with a long welcoming speeches. I understood the game. It was quite enjoyable even before we had any wine. We had 4 free tasters so that we could choose the one we love. Somehow instead of having just a glass each, I got talked into ordering a bottle. I was gamed. I think that was already on my mind as we first stepped into the restaurant. You know when there are so many layers of servers, a big tip is expected. It reminded me of the how many people does it take to turn on the light bulb joke. The waitress took our orders but she did not bring the tasters nor the food. She bought the bottle of wine and dessert and a different person bought the tasters and food. It was all very good fun. We wined and dined. I broke out of my serious mold, if only for one evening. I figured if we’re incapable of driving home, we could rent a room upstairs. It was in a hotel. But we were good to go. Needless to say, I gave a good tip.

BITTER MELON, SOUR GRAPES

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I am having some difficulty letting go of my neighbour encounter. I still have that bitter and sour taste of the worst kind. I’m bitter because of my own stupidity of engaging with a mentally sick person and letting her get under my skin. It’s hard because she is not the kind mentally ill that gets lock up but the kind that gets special considerations. Life is not fair, never is and never will be. I better just suck it up and be more conscious and wary. I am of the vulnerable sort that gets taken in by sad stories and tears. They know I am a sucker bearing gifts of sympathy, help and sometimes money. I once gifted a friend under a guise of a loan of a couple of thousand dollars. She had asked me to cosign a huge loan for her. I couldn’t do it. I felt guilty refusing so the loan/gift. She rewarded me by asking some time later, How much was it that I had given her? She could not remember. The things that sour a relationship.

They say to be truly generous you give without expectations and no strings attached. Obviously I haven’t reached the truly level. I would like some gratitude and remembrance. I hate being the lone caretaker of a relationship. But then, I brought it on myself. I have no one else to blame. Another time, another friend, and another incident. This friend wanted to pay me back for my kindness to her. She often hung out at my place because all she had was just one room while she was getting her computer science degree. She wanted to pay my train fare to visit her in Toronto where she got a new job. I declined the free rain fare but took up the visit. The first thing she said to me when I stepped off the train was: You’re going to cost me a fortune just in toilet paper to keep you.

Not a very auspicious beginning. It had no good beginning. I ended up flying home in not too many days. And yet I still try to maintain the friendship for a few more years before I packed it in. I truly have a hanging on problem. I brought it all upon myself. Now that I have spilled all the bitterness and sourness onto the page, I hope I can start a new page. I am a good person. I need to value myself, time and energy better. I do feel so much better having unload some of the shit. And though I felt the least inclined to exercising today, I went. The mobility class at the YWCA was excellent. Working on hip movements chased all those ugly feelings emanating from that wretched neighbour woman. It helps to surround oneself with positive and kind people. I was doing something good for my body and soul. The negative stuff are now just water under the bridge.

STUMBLES, HICCOUGHS and LETTING GO

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LETIING GO

Another beautiful morning for the 5th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Welcome to my space. I thought I would lay a few bricks for today’s post before I get too caught up in the cobwebs of daily life. I am feeling brighter and more energetic since I’ve joined the challenge. Having a goal adds purpose to my day. I look forward each day to sitting here with my cuppa and sharing my thoughts and words with you. November is not only a writing month but a month of hope. I am taking advantage of Sounds True’s free 4 day event on Activating Hope. Jane Goodall is a keynote speaker. That says it all for me.

It is interesting to learn that Jane had no experience or degree when she started work as a secretary with Louis Leakey And my renowned art professor, Dorothy Perehudoff, had a degree in biology before she took up art. I still have time to become a good artist or whatever. We are not just one thing. We are always evolving and there are more than one destination on our life journey. Being such, there’s bound to be a few hiccoughs and stumbles along the way. Jane Goodall was no exception. Though she had many awards and recognition, she had criticisms as well. She was accused of plagarism in her book, Seeds of Hope. She acknowledged, apologized and move on.

“On 22 March 2013, Hachette Book Group announced that Goodall’s and co-author Gail Hudson’s new book, Seeds of Hope, would not be released on 2 April as planned due to the discovery of plagiarised portions.[87] A reviewer for The Washington Post found unattributed sections that were copied from websites about organic tea, tobacco, an “amateurish astrology site”, as well as from Wikipedia.[88] Goodall apologised and stated, “It is important to me that the proper sources are credited, and I will be working diligently with my team to address all areas of concern. My goal is to ensure that when this book is released it is not only up to the highest of standards, but also that the focus be on the crucial messages it conveys.”[89] The book was released on 1 April 2014, after review and the addition of 57 pages of endnotes.[90]“

That is what I must do also for my stumbles and hiccoughs – move on. They are not failures. They are lessons to stop falling into the same rabbit hole again and again. I am a slow learner. I hang onto things and people like my Sheba with a bone. There’s no wisdom in doing the same things and expecting a different outcome. No wonder I feel like a gerbil on a wheel. I can’t believe how long I keep telling the same story over and over. Now that I had my moment of recognition, of knowing, of seeing how and why I’ve been treading water all these long years, I need to adopt a new course of action. I need to let go of things that no longer serve me. I need to tell a new story.

CEREMONIES/RITUALS – a season for everything

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It is August 13 and day 13th of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. As usual of late, I am having difficulty finding the words. My brain is in a fog and my body slow moving. I am feeling the harbingers of summer leaving and autumn approaching. I felt a sudden twinge of the ‘blues’ and a sense of dread out of nowhere yesterday. Can you feel darkness? That’s what I felt, not seen and not spoken of. I gave myself silent comfort, thinking it is probably the changing of the guard – those forces that are ushering in a new season. Perhaps I should hold a ceremony of a sort.

I believe in ceremonies/rituals. They give me a sense of connection, direction and a reason to be. Every morning this summer I do a walk-about on my property, visiting the greenhouse, the garden and flower beds in the backyard. Then I meandered to the front to see how everything is growing there. This is my morning walking meditation – the greeting and giving of thanks to the gods above and those in the garden.

I’m learning important lessons in the garden this year. We are all familiar with the saying, There’s a season for everything but do we really understand what it really means? For one thing, I have forgotten that the saying came from the Bible, from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every [a]purpose under heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7 a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

What I take away from it is everything is changing. Nothing is static. I must learn not to hang on to everything so tightly as I have been doing, but to let go when it is time. There’s a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted. And so I plucked up the Armenian cucumber vine. It was past its best by due date. It has given me many cucumbers and now its leaves are full of white powdery mildew. Letting go is never easy. After trimming off much of the leaves, it took me another day before I could say goodbye. Now it is chopped up and in a bucket for the garbage as mildew is not suitable for the compost. Everything looks much better now. The bitter melon and peppers said thank you for the extra elbow room and light.

TIME

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I’m having trouble finding time to show up here every day. All my growing things seem to be calling me. I was heading downstairs to pot up the petunia seedlings, but the call of the sun and warmth of the sunroom won out. So here I am, sitting and tapping a few words. I’m trying not to let my thoughts wandered and raced, thinking of how much I have to do. I take a deep breath, sip my hot ginger water, relax my shoulders and slow my tap to a steady rhythm. I rest my fingers on the keyboard, feeling the morning sun on my face. R-E-L-A-X.

No need to rush around like mad. Everything will be done in good time. What is not isn’t important. Be in this moment. Savour and enjoy for this moment will not come again. Be thankful for each fleeting second and breath. See the beauty and colours around you. Listen to the silence and the noise. Close your eyes and see yourself letting go of everything for just a minute. Now I’m ready to step back in – and go to work.