When you choose to be positive, you choose your future. — Unknown
Woke up way too early again on a Saturday morning. I have been working through a lot of personal stuff and the thoughts are noisy and intrusive. I’ve always loved Brené Brown’s advice to sit in the discomfort of one’s vulnerability, because exposure to discomfort builds tolerance and resilience. So I’m choosing to sit with the head full of noise. Picking out the strands that I can pick out will help, and telling myself those that I can’t can stay jumbled. They’re for sorting out another day.
@yellywelly
We’re told these days that we can choose our future, that we can control what happens to us. If we manifest using specific words, if we behave a certain way, if we one day decide to radically change our lives in pursuit of the future we want, if we eat less/more of certain foods…it all boils down to controlling something we haven’t even experienced yet.
The only thing we can control is how we react to our environment. We react to our environment through small daily actions that become routine and habitual. When things become routine, they become predictable. This is how you can predict the future.
“But predictable is boring!” I’m sure a lot of you will say. And to that I say, NO IT IS NOT! When we habitually strive to find joy, when we routinely try to look for the positive, it becomes second nature, it becomes part of who we are, and that’s how we bake positivity and hope into our future. When we choose to view everything as potentially filled with light and joy, we choose a future filled with exactly that. The future will always be an unknown quantity, but if we sit with the knowledge that, whatever it is, there will always be hope that it could be shining, shimmering, splendid, that is the exciting part of it all.
What small thing will you do today that your future self will thank you for?
Success is a journey, and every single day is a beautiful mile. — Unknown
I’m going through quite an anxious period in my life. Because it feels like everything is up in the air and I don’t necessarily know which way is up. I have this list of (inspirational) quotes and, because I’m pedantic and persnickety (I also like old, interesting terms), I will go through the list, one item at a time, in order. I’m in the section of my quotes that seems to be one quote after another about success. It’s making me anxious because, what have I got to say about success? My current situation feels more like a disaster, and so far removed from success.
But okay, let’s not make this about me. Or at least, let’s try.
What is your definition of success? Some people are planners, and success is ticking off items on a list to get to the end of a project. Some people are thinkers, and success is finally arriving at a conclusion after testing ideas. Some people are creatives, and success is finally breathing life into a body of work. But all this is success in relation to productivity. For some people, there is no need to produce; success is being able to have a good day, to have a chance to laugh, to breathe, to just be.
Is it just me, or does society these days focus on having something to point to, where we say, “I made that!” It just feels like we’re on this perpetual hamster wheel of production. It feels like everything has become a commodity and the measure of success relates to a list of assets, and in order to build that list, one has to either produce or acquire.
I enjoy pace and I enjoy the challenge of finding solutions right away. I know I can sprint along with the best of them. But lately, I’ve been feeling exhausted. I’ve been questioning the constant need to chase…everything. Maybe this is why I feel so lost, so disconnected. Maybe I’m missing being able to have time and space. Because while I know I can do things quickly and efficiently, I like to be able to process, at a pace that is my own, in an environment that is less frenzied and frantic. But when success is only measured by what you can show for yourself, the journey — the wrestling, the questioning, the becoming — gets dismissed as inefficiency. But that part of the journey is where the real work happens.
Have we forgotten to appreciate the time it takes to travel? Have we forgotten that the journey isn’t just merely arriving at the destination? Have we forgotten that it’s the experiences between departure and arrival that make the journey? That’s where the lessons are learned. That’s where the memories are made. That’s where the experience is created, where expertise is gained. Because while you have a destination in mind, the things that happen in between change where you get to.
Love and its expressions are so individual. Some use words. Some use action. It is as individual and unique as the person expressing it. There are different depths, different intensities, different levels, different kinds of love.
I’ve come to realise that love is in the small things. It’s in the way they say I’m thinking of you without saying it out loud. It’s in the small considerations. It’s in the small inconveniences they allow because you matter more to them than the disregulation they’ll feel. It’s in the small, fleeting touches, the side looks, in the involuntary smiles. It’s in the way they let you see them and their vulnerabilities. It’s in the small but dependable, almost habitual consistency. It’s how they are present for you, and not just by being there physically.
I am not, by any means, discounting the showy outpouring expressions of love. Yes, love is also in the grand gestures, in the wonderful, audible proclamations, the generous gift-giving, and the opening-of-the-floodgates intensity of expression. While the out-loud expressions can be performative because of societal expectations, there are the small, telltale signs that there was thought in the actions, and that you were the sole focus of the action.
When you are truly loved, you know. You feel it.
Love begets love. You need to trust that it does. Because it will.
So I watched The Life List on Netflix again, and, of course, I bawled like a baby! I promise no spoilers, especially if you haven’t seen it. It’s the kind of girly romance movie that presents an idealized, pre-packaged view of love and romantic relationships. I’m not a cynic, not by a long shot (I’ve read too many Julia Quinn novels several times over to be jaded), to be cynical about love, even after the implosion of a relationship that I thought would last forever. I do sometimes smirk at the sugar coma sweetness of the Hallmark Channel formula movies. But the “true love test” in the movie had me thinking. In the film, it said that if you could answer yes to each of the 4 questions below, it was TRUE LOVE.
1 Are they kind?
2 Can you tell them everything that’s in your heart?
3 Do they help you become the best version of yourself?
4 Can you imagine them as the father/mother of your children?
The questions make me smile. Because I can hear myself saying to someone at 25, “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a decision.” and seeing their look of confusion (in hindsight, that should’ve been a red flag, but I ignored it) and me patiently explaining what I meant.
Love is a decision. It’s a commitment. Because you decide, for better or for worse (whether it involves the permanency of marriage or not), to love this person, in the good and bad days, when tempers flare and patience wanes, when the sickness is disgusting, when the ick is hard to shift and when disagreements happen. It’s a commitment to stay and work things out, even when things get tough, damnedly uncomfortable and when they don’t particularly look rosy. It’s a promise to stay. It’s a vow to work on improving, changing for the better, and growing together. It’s saying “I got you” to this person and really having them, making sure they know you have them. It’s a pledge to stay accountable to this person. It is an unwritten but very binding contract to work through the warts, farts and smarts that come with adult relationships.
Being loved is an intrinsic need because it encapsulates affection, respect, acceptance, protection, and accountability. Every person has a deep-seated need for it, whether they care to admit it. Love isn’t easy but if you have it, wouldn’t you want to hold on to it, nurture it and cultivate it?
To lose someone you love is the very worst thing in the world. It creates an invisible hole that you feel you are falling down and will never end. People you love make the world real and solid and when they suddenly go away forever, nothing feels solid any more.
Matt Haig
Today is my Abba’s second-year death anniversary, and yet this morning, I woke up and felt absolutely heartbroken again. I think the pain was different this year because this was the first year I was completely alone in remembering him. I’m sure his siblings thought about him today, and I’m sure Mama and my siblings touched his urn and lit a candle, but this year, I was completely alone with my thoughts without a memorial service to organise and wake up for.
I know my mom thinks about him every day – I mean how could she not – they were together for more than 50 years, and solidly together for 7 years when my father fell ill because she was his primary carer. I cannot imagine the depths of her pain and how much she misses him. But this morning, I felt absolutely heartsick and I cried like a child because I missed my father so much.
I know the void that my father’s passing has created in my life will never be filled. I need to remember to give myself time – time to come to terms with my father’s death (because I don’t think I’ve properly grieved), time to heal, time to allow the pain to shift. I know the pain will always be there but it will feel differently eventually.
They are about to say ‘I do’, three little letters, two little words. Its the simplest part of the day; but there is nothing simple about the things that will remain unsaid. ‘I do’ means I do know I could be hurt, but I am ready to be healed with you. It means I do want to try, even when the fear of failure holds me back. And I do not know the future, but I am ready to be surprised along the way. ‘I do’ means I do want your love & I do give you mine. And nothing we do will ever be the same, because we will be doing it all together.
This was a reading from the wedding scene in the Season 3 finale of The Good Witch, which I am currently working through on Netflix, and of course, you guessed it, I was bawling my eyes out. Partly because they were beautiful words, and mostly because, well, it was a wedding. Everyone cries at weddings. I cry at everything, so of course, I would cry at this.
But these words resonated because half a lifetime ago, I promised someone that I would love them, always and forever, in the best way that I could. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its frailties and vulnerabilities. But I gave what I could give, and sometimes, even more than what I could, despite the personal deficit. I tried my best, but I guess, as that oldie-but-goodie James Ingram song goes, I guess my best wasn’t good enough.
But I also know that whilst my always and forever means an unconditional always and forever, forsaking all other and does not have an expiration date, saturation point or limit, it does not apply that the person I made the promise to will be able to love as willingly or as completely as I do. Unfortunately for me, that one person, no matter what, will always have my I do. I also know that my I do (no matter how complete and unconditional) is no longer wanted. I accept that. It is a painfully hard pill to swallow, but there you go.
So now, I am learning to say I do to myself – because I do know I could be hurt, but I do want to try; I know that I am afraid, but I know I shouldn’t allow fear to hold me back; I do know that the future holds surprises.
My photo turned into a poster via Adobe Spark #notanadvert
“You make yourself strong because it’s expected of you. You become confident because someone beside you is unsure. You turn into the person others need you to be.” ― Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts
Happy Mothers Day to the strongest woman I know. I love that I get to celebrate you and everything you have done for us twice a year! I love you Mama!
Everything you’ve taught us, I know you’ve learned from Lola Gening, who was such a wonderfully beautiful human being who always taught us to focus on the good, the beautiful and the peaceful. My Lola always taught us that if you couldn’t say anything good to not say anything at all. I must say Lola that I have failed on several occasions to do that. But I am a work in progress and I will get there someday and I will learn to be as genteel and proper as you.
I hope Lola, you know that Mama has raised us as well as she could with your guidance and I hope you are smiling down on her today.
Happy Mother’s Day Mama! I know that you are with Abba in the hospital today and you haven’t told me because you don’t want me to worry. Your strength of spirit is an inspiration to all of us. I love you. I am proud to be your daughter.
No I wasn’t in New York, I was in Atlanta the day the two planes crashed into the Twin Towers. I think most of the people in the world who were old enough to remember and understand what happened can remember where they were when they learned about the planes that crashed into the Twin Towers in New York, into the Pentagon in Washington DC and into that field in Pennsylvania.
I was living with my relatives in Atlanta and it started out like a normal Tuesday. I’d started helping my uncle with his medical records. I worked at his clinic, in the back office, Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. They were transitioning into digital records so I was doing data entry for them, taking patient records and inputting all the patient information, doctor’s notes and procedures into a patient records management system that they’d just installed.
I got ready to go to the clinic, went down and had coffee and a piece of toast and left the house with my aunt. We had a small white TV in the kitchen and it was usually switched on whilst we had coffee. Strangely on that day, I don’t remember the TV being on. We got to the office shortly before 9AM. The first plane had already hit the North Tower so it was definitely after 8:46AM. I don’t remember what time we got there. But I remember one of the patients in the waiting room saying “Oh my God!” over and over again whilst staring at the TV.
The TV in the clinic’s waiting room was tuned into CNN (we were in Atlanta after all). I remember switching on the computer and walking to the water cooler to get myself a huge glass of water. I can still remember rounding the corner and walking into the waiting room. I remember looking at the television and seeing the the second plane crash into the South Tower. I can still see it. I don’t think it’s something you can “unsee”. It’s one of those images that embeds itself permanently in your brain. I’m sure it all happened in real time but it I know that I can see it in slow motion. How the plane flew straight into the South Tower and the ball of fire that exploded shortly after.
The rest of the day passed into a blur. I don’t remember much about what happened except for all the TV watching we did. There were a few panicked hours because we couldn’t get in touch with my cousin and her husband who were both in New York. But at the end of the day, we were all accounted for, safe and sound, rattled, unsettled and terrified, but scared.
I think I never really understood the feeling of helplessness until that day. Even now, it isn’t difficult to remember the feeling of not being able to wrap my mind around the enormity of what happened to America on that day. The shock, grief, utter helplessness and eventual anger that everyone felt on that day. It will always be a day that I will sit quietly and think about life, how blessed I am to have all my loved ones with me. My heart goes out to all those people who lost their loved ones on that day, not just in New York but in Washington DC and in Pennsylvannia. We will never forget all those senseless deaths. Know that we will always remember.
Last year, in November, was the first time I went back to New York after that day in 2001. We went to the 9/11 Memorial and did the walking tour with a firefighter and a lady who worked in an office across the street from the World Trade Center. Before we went on the tour, we walked around the 9/11 Tribute Center. I was fighting the tears by the time we finished walking around the exhibition. Our tour guides talked about their experiences, what happened to them on that horrible day. It was heart-breakingly poignant. They were ordinary people who were thrust into extraordinarily horrific circumstances. But what struck me was the underlying spirit of hope and the indomitable human spirit.
The enduring Sphere sculpture by Fritz Koenig was once the center of the the Austin J. Tobin Plaza.
We must all never forget. We must all remember so that this will never happen again. We should always try to walk in someone else’s shoes. Our first response must always be peace. We must always be guided by love.
Am so one for cheese. I love all the Valentines day clichés. I buy into all the romance. I love the whole card, flowers and chocolate things. I’m most probably the target consumer for all the commercial Valentines Day crap! And I buy it all in! I’m a sappy romantice and am proud of it.
I’ve always said, while it’s true that you don’t have to say you love someone because actions speak louder than words, sometimes that someone you love will appreciate the effort to verbalise how you feel. So if you love someone, say it loud and say it proud!
Happy Valentines Day all!
The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along. – Rumi
Yellywelly 