I Believe, Part II

Posted on September 8, 2014 by Lydia | 2 Comments



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In this earlier post, I sought to write about that which I believe. I had to force myself to stop because I realized that I could have gone on forever. After publishing the post, other beliefs swirled through my mind, and I feel obliged to continue. These are more of the many things in which I believe:

that no one should be discriminated against because of their race, national origin, sex, age, religious preference, sexual orientation or any other reason.
that employers should offer mental health leave to their employees,
in loyalty,
that one should follow his or her passions,
that we can not know happiness without experiencing sadness,
that the present moment is the only moment that we have,
that our actions affect the environment,
that listening is an art form that we all should practice, again and again,
that we can learn from everyone that we meet–even those that we dislike,
that forgiveness is not about accepting bad behavior,
that no matter how difficult that life can get, there is always something for which we can be grateful,
that everyone should try journaling,
that everyone should try meditation,
that we gain more wisdom from life’s lows than from its’ highs,
that it takes courage to be vulnerable,
that inner beauty is more important than outer beauty,
that you can’t judge a book by its cover,
that we should stop to smell the roses,
that music stirs the soul,
that less is more,
that laughter is contagious,
that we are all connected,
in the smell of impending rain,
that peace is possible,
that mistakes are inevitable,
that it is not the falling, but the getting up that is important,
that kindness reaps its own rewards,
that we are the makers of our own destinies,
that if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,
that love means having to say you are sorry,
that “being” is more important than “doing,”
that when I am gone, I want to leave the world better than I found it,
in the wonder of a night’s sky,
that giving is more important than receiving,
that we should strive to do good deeds, with no expectation that our actions will be noticed or appreciated, that is, doing good solely for the sake of doing good,
that wisdom does not depend on one’s age,
that hypocrisy is a societal ill,
that the answers that we seek are within us,
in the sound of rain on a tin roof,
in the song of the wind chime in a gentle breeze,
in a cold glass of lemonade on a hot Summer day,
in the fragrance of lavender, orange blossoms or jasmine as they waft through an open window,
that there is satisfaction to be had in hard work,
in the satisfaction of a job well done,
in acceptance,
in letting go of the past,
in surrender,
in the love of a parent for his or her child(ren),
that children are our future,
that teachers are under-valued,
that it is the lowliest workers who give the most to a well-ordered society,
in the first cry of a newborn baby,
in honor, respect and appreciation for our elders,
that no one should die alone,
that no child should go unwanted or unloved,
that our past, informs all that we are,
that every person should know freedom,
in the sultriness of a full moon,
that empathy is a virtue,
that “home” is a state of mind,
that trust engenders trust,
that grandchildren are a gift,
in a beautiful sunset,
in the sound of water as it rushes along a stream,
in waves as they crash on a beach,
in a hot beverage on a cold day,
that all will be well,
that this too shall pass,
in a day when there is no place to be and nothing to do,
in clean sheets,
in a towel fresh out of the dryer,
in prayer,
in compassion for another,
that mental illness should not be treated any differently than physical illness,
that any kind of abuse is abhorrent,
that it is our humanness that makes us who we are,
in the sacred,
that creativity is not a lesson to be learned; it is within all of us,
that inspiration is all around us,
that death is just the beginning,
in anticipation,
in a hand-written letter,
in an unexpected card or letter from a friend,
in an unanticipated check in the mail,
in new love,
in mature love,
in all love,
in saying “thank you,”
in saying “God bless you.”
in meditating by candlelight,
in the beauty of a candlelit room,
in miracles,
in wishing on a star,
in doing what’s right, even if it finds you standing alone,
that you have no control over anyone but you,
that each day offers a chance to put yesterday behind us, and to begin anew,
that your heart is the vehicle to your truth,
that it is never too late to live your dreams,
that the only person with whom you should compete is yourself,
that as you think, so shall you be,
that the first step is the hardest,
that yes, you can,
that many of your beliefs act as your moral compass,
in the journey, not the destination,
in the feeling of bliss when surrendering into a favorite yoga pose, and
in truth-telling.

Once again, I must stop because this post has become way too long. Choosing this topic, has given me considerable insight into my thoughts and beliefs, many of which had lain dormant, unknown and never verbalized. Some of them are quite mundane, but many, anything but. Yet, that is the nature of life. I recommend this exercise as a way of getting to know yourself at a far deeper level. It has given me a glimpse into the best parts of myself.

What about you? What do you believe? WARNING: Once you begin, you’ll find it difficult to stop, but then, what an excellent way to gain an understanding of your core beliefs?

I Believe…

Posted on September 4, 2014 by Lydia | 11 Comments



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This is a list of some of the things in which I steadfastly believe. I’ve always thought that you can tell a great deal about a person based on their beliefs, both significant and seemingly insignificant. They allow a glimpse below the superficial level and into a deeper layer of being. I hope that this list, while not exhaustive, offers you a further look into who I am.

I believe:

in the kindness of strangers,
in unconditional love,
that we are not alone in this universe,
that bad things happen to good people,
that good things happen to bad people,
in the innocence of children,
in curiosity,
in serendipity,
in the promise and power of forgiveness,
that sometimes, life is not fair,
that struggles make us stronger,
that everyone has a story to tell,
that evil exists,
that there is more good in the world than bad,
that prayers are answered, but not always in the manner we expect,
that everyone should be treated equally,
that no one should want for necessities,
that each of us matters and makes a difference,
in the cry of a newborn baby,
in the sound of children laughing and playing,
that everyone has his or her unique gift to offer the world,
that hope sustains our lives,
in angels,
that no one is more important than another,
that God has interceded and protected me countless times in my life,
that trust is earned,
that friends, old and new, are precious treasures,
in raucous laughter,
in the occasional cuss word,
that there is no “us” and “them,” there is only “we,”
that “can’t” should be banished from the dictionary,
that the word “never” should be used rarely, if at all,
in a cleansing cry every now and again,
in a sincere “I’m sorry,”
that through forgiveness, we free ourselves,
that through adversity, we come to know happiness,
that change is necessary,
in the joy that I feel when I look into the faces of my g’children,
that the most important job in the world is that of a parent,
that my three children are blessings given to me,
that the most difficult job that I’ve ever held was as a parent,
in the occasional well-turned dirty joke,
that being alone does not necessarily mean that one is lonely,
that we can be our own best company,
that our memories keeps those who have moved on alive in our hearts,
that our capacity for love is endless,
in my faith and in a higher power,
in a long hot bath,
in dancing and singing to R&B music,
that no one should want for food,
that no one should want for decent housing,
that everyone should be paid a living wage,
that no one should want for health care,
in honesty,
in courage,
in compassion,
in lending a shoulder or an ear,
that sometimes we show our compassion through silence,
that the gift of listening to another is a scarce commodity,
that sometimes, “I don’t know” is the only answer,
that everything happens for a reason, even though we may not know it at the time,
that each of us is a blessing in this world,
in the perfect glass of lemonade on a hot Texas Summer day,
in bringing a child to a carnival with rides, cotton candy and expensive crap that will break within a week,
in riding a ferris wheel,
in driving my car with the windows down on a pleasant day, so that I can ride the air with my hands,
in paying it forward,
in the joy of doing good, simply for the joy of doing it,
in random acts of kindness,
that family means everything,
in telling those that you love, how you feel before it’s too late,
that what goes around, comes around,
that all of our experiences, good and bad, inform who we are,
that you are as young as you feel,
that adult “play dates” should be mandatory,
that adults should watch a child to learn to live in the present moment,
that we get to choose how we live our lives,
that loyalty is rewarded,
that crying is not a weakness,
that empathy is a virtue,
that none of us can make it through life alone,
that needing help is not a weakness,
in the power of our vote,
that people from different parts of the world are more alike than different,
that our preconceptions prevent us from knowing the real person,
in allowing our children to be children for as long as possible,
that you are viewed by your actions, not by your words,
that I wish to leave the world better than I found it,
that although the world’s ills are great, we can each do our little part towards making it a better place to live,
that giving up, is not an option,
that flowers can instantly lift spirits,
that nature is a fertile source for experiencing the world’s wonders,
that true peace cannot be had without putting one’s self in the other’s shoes,
that honesty is the best policy, and
that each of you, is a blessing to me and this world.

A Beautiful Mess

Posted on August 25, 2014 by Lydia | 11 Comments

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I’ve been thinking. When I began this blog, I vowed to keep my posts upbeat and positive. I mean who wants to read blog posts about someone always moaning and groaning about his or her problems. Yet, this is a journey blog, and I realize that no one’s journey rides high all the time. As we travel our paths, we encounter peaks and valleys, ups and downs, highs and lows, however you choose to call them. Moreover, when I choose the word “courage” as my word for 2014, I committed to have the courage to be vulnerable at times–even if it is uncomfortable. This is one of those times.

Lately, I’ve felt very down. It is difficult to think, write and even meditate. I can’t even blame it on Seasonal Affective Disorder–it’s too early for that and 102° outside. Nevertheless, everything seems so hard. Each day, I wake up and, if truth be told, I would rather pull the covers over my head and meld into the mattress. Unless my fibromyalgia pain is too intense, I fight that urge and, by sheer force of will, drag myself out of bed to face another day. I refuse to fully give in to the sadness, worries and fears or to take the easy road out by wallowing in it for too long. I struggle to remain mindful of the many positive things in my life, and to let go of stress, worries and negative thinking. Sometimes, I am successful. Yet, it is the times that I’m not, that weigh heavily on my mind.

I’ve come to wonder why so many of us believe that feeling sad, fearful, depressed, melancholy or blue is a character flaw? In many cases, we learn to repress our ‘other than’ positive feelings, because they are not desirable in the society in which we live. We are told, directly or indirectly, that doing so exhibits a sign of weakness. In this country, the “pursuit of happiness” that is enshrined in our Declaration of Independence, is misinterpreted to create an inalienable “right to happiness,” which is unsustainable.

In general, many of us, are uncomfortable and at a loss for words in the company of those who acknowledge their unhappiness. Generally, when we ask, “How are you doing?,” we are merely being polite and not expecting to hear an honest assessment of one’s state of mind. At the earliest opportunity, we run away as if in the presence of a contagious disease that is sure to overtake us. As a result, out of shame or a perceived weakness, people feel as though they must hide their unhappiness.

Even more worrisome is the fact that often, those feeling sad, depressed or out of sorts, do everything that they can to run away from the negative feelings. I mean, who wants to acknowledge and subject themselves to thoughts and feelings that they’d rather deny. Doing so, is not an easy thing to do, and it takes courage and strength to embrace those feelings and accept them as a part of who we are.

Who among us can honestly claim that they escape the roller coaster that we call life? It is a scientific fact that what goes up, must come down, and emotional highs and lows are no exception. The problem is that it is so easy to dwell in the highs, but we fear the descents into the lows. Whereas, we wish to prolong the highs, we’d rather give short shrift to the lows and hurry them along. Yet, by running from the sadness, fear, anger and more, we simply make sure that they last longer, and often deepen, the effects. The saying ‘fake it ’til you make it’ is fine for the average blue period. Nevertheless, it takes courage to admit that sometimes our only solace is to acknowledge the feelings, and accept and embrace them as a way to understand the lessons or revelations they offer us.

Me? I’ve come to realize that I, along with all of my messy bits, informs who I am–the true me. Although discussing my ‘messy bits’ raises a host of vulnerability issues, the journey to my authentic self requires it. My journey is not always a bed of roses and at times, is pervaded by thorns, so my denial is disingenuous. Anyway, I know that, as it always does, ‘this too shall end.’

Mind you, the focus and spirit of my blog will not change. I, for one, could not abide reading a blog that is nothing but doom and gloom; besides, that is not who I am. I do intend to do what I set out to do for this entire year, that is, have the courage to be vulnerable, as a means of being real and more open. I write to delve deeper to learn more about myself–who I am and why I do what I do. That is not to say that I am going to share all my business, because, even for me, that is TMI (too much information.) Personally, I believe that some things are not fodder for this blog. Yet, the thing is that, most likely, I will always be a beautiful mess. I am learning to welcome that and I’d have it no other way.

Letting Go Is The Only Option

Posted on July 17, 2014 by Lydia | Leave a comment

I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but please indulge me. I am having a very emotional today (No, it is not PMS.). Also, fair warning: this post is about children and g’children, so….

It seems that history is repeating itself. I am sitting here bawling my eyes out because of a feeling of inevitability and loss. I feel silly, both because it has happened before, and because, I should know better. (Later, I’ll tell you why.) I am learning that just because something is inevitable, it doesn’t mean that you still aren’t thrown off guard by its reoccurrence and that, more importantly, it doesn’t hurt any less. In fact, it seems to hurt more. I know that you are asking, “What in the hell is she talking about?,” so I’ll explain.

For a better understanding, I think that some background information might help. I have three grown children, all with children of their own. (My oldest daughter just blessed me with g’child number seven, and yes, I agree with you, I am much too young for this, but I love each of them more than I can say.) Anyway, one of my favorite times in my children’s lives was when they were little and still thought that I hung the moon. (At this point, I should say that after he was five years of age, his Dad raised, my oldest, a beautiful son, but up to that point, I experienced much of what I am talking about with him.) At that time, you are their world and they hang on to every word that you say. They look to you for answers to their every question.

I remember when my youngest daughter was about 4-5, I asked her to tell me her favorite color. She stopped to think about it and suddenly asked me, “Mom, what is your favorite color?” I told her purple and she finally responded, “Then my favorite color is purple too.” Although I tried to explain to her that just because my favorite color was purple, hers did not have to be, she was insistent that purple it was. In the very little person’s mind, the parent knows everything and is always right, which is understandable because they have little frame of reference. In my experience, the bond between mother and children is at its greatest, and the connection seemingly unbreakable.

I think back to this moment with my daughter, not because I’ve ever intended to raise little mini mes who have no mind of his or her own. No, it is because those were the moments when I felt the weight and burden of a parent’s responsibility. Parenting is a hard, and sometime thankless job, but for those who choose to do it, it is the most important, gratifying, and rewarding job that you can ever undertake. In my mind, a parent is a child’s first line of protection and in the younger years, this task is so much easier. Outside influences have yet to emerge to diminish your connection.

Of course, I wanted and encouraged my children to grow and forge their own identities, with their own likes and dislikes, feelings and opinions. In fact, sometimes, I was ridiculed for letting them express their thoughts and opinions a little too freely. (I grew up in the era when children “were seen and not heard,” and I promised myself that I would not raise any future children the same.) Until they are out there in the world, I could kid myself into thinking that I could protect them from anything.

Then, they start school and at first, their orbit still revolves around you. By kindergarten, and certainly by the first grade, that begins to change, and though you are still within that orbit, it expands to include new friends, interests and experiences. Slowly but surely, you begin to take a supporting role in their lives. They no longer depend on you to meet their every need. Of course, you stay very important (I mean, who else will take them to their play dates.), but they begin to compartmentalize their life in a way that doesn’t include you, and actively form friendships and learn ‘the art of playing well with others.’ They become influenced by people other than yourself. Naturally, you cannot, and would not want to, watch them 24/7 and must accept their need to expand their zone of comfort. They are testing their boundaries. They love you no less, but they are necessarily moving away from you to become their own person.

What can I say about the teens years except that they are often froth with struggle. I’ve been told that some parents make it through the teen years effortlessly, but I’ve never met one. In my case, those years were like a see-saw, up one day and down the next. It seemed that I could do no right, which was diametrically opposed to the younger years when I could do no wrong. Although as a parent, I could exert some control, I was not privy to all that was going on in their lives. During those years, they spent more time with friends than at home. I was never the type of parent who snooped or violated their privacy, because aside from being the typical teens, they gave me no reason to do so.

I vividly remember my oldest daughter’s last year of high school. We’ve always been close and she talked to me, shared love letters from her many admirers and we genuinely, enjoyed one another’s company–then senior year arrived. She was always an excellent student and, although she could have applied and been accepted by the top level schools, she applied to one school, the University of Texas at Austin. By her senior year, she was accepted, so we averted that potentially stressful situation.

Nevertheless, we couldn’t seem to agree on anything. If I said “up,” she said, “down. If she said, “stop,” I said “go.” Neither of us intended it to be this way, but it was. Moreover, I don’t mean to imply that there were not plenty of special and close moments between us, because there were. Still, it was a tough year. I remember one argument that ended with her saying something like “I can’t wait to leave you and get out of this house!,” and I, frustrated and hurt, retorted, “And I can’t wait for you to leave.” I never meant it for a second but our constant fighting sent me over the edge.

She accepted an invitation to go through a Summer college program and we moved her things to her dorm room, mere weeks after she graduated high school. In hindsight, I realize that a large part of our problem was her wish for freedom and independence, whereas mine involved holding on as tightly as possible and not let go. I didn’t want to lose my ‘baby.’ Of course, I didn’t lose her. Almost immediately after she moved from the house, our relationship reverted back to the close, loving one that we had always enjoyed.

So back to why I was bawling. I was under the insane delusion that having made it through my children’s rites of passage, I was prepared to deal with my g’children’s. I mean, hadn’t I learned anything from the past. I wrote this blog post earlier this year. The post was in response to this post by Christina Rosalie dealing with mothering and a loss of self. As I was well beyond those years, I reminded them that this was the beginning of their journey. Aside from agreeing with Christina that they would come through it to reclaim their sense of self, I warned that the journey was only beginning. In the interest of brevity, which is ironic given that this post seems endless, I wrote, “you will have grandchildren and the feelings and experiences that you thought behind you will resurface. It is heartening that because you’ve travelled it before, the road is easier, less frightening, but no less painful.” Well, I obviously didn’t know what the hell I was talking about because the path is no easier or less frightening. My claim that I would have all this wisdom is a load of crap.

Case in point. One of my g’daughters is almost eight years old. (She is the first of my g’daughters who has had a presence in my life when she made this transition.) Since she and her parents live in Austin, I’ve spent more time with her than with my other g’children combined. She and I have always been exceptionally close. I was the “best G’Mom in all the world” and she loved to spend time with me. Last year, when she started first grade, I noticed that we had fewer sleepovers and if we did, I initiated them. “Cuddle time,” which, in the past, she’d loved to call for, was a ritual long forgotten. The excitement that she used to display when I called, has been replaced with, “Oh, hi G’Mom,” and her busy schedule didn’t allow for much ‘G’Mom’ time.

Last night, after a month away from home, I called, excited to speak with her. I assumed that she’d be equally excited. The reaction was not as I anticipated. She heard my voice and said, in a distracted tone, “Hi, G’Mom.” I told her that I was home and that I missed her–no reaction. After she asked me to repeat what I’d said several times, I asked, “D., are you listening to me or playing the ever-present Nintendo?” She sheepishly replied that she was playing Nintendo. Suddenly, she became a bit more talkative but it was obvious that she had other things on her mind. I told her to go on and do what she needed to do. I hung up the phone and couldn’t believe how hurt that I felt, but today’s crying jag was equally surprising. I think that the feelings with D. were exacerbated because of far different circumstances with my g’son.

For almost a month, I was in LA, with B., a 3-year-old who adored Mi-Mom (From the beginning, he refused to call me G’Mom, so Mi-Mom it is.) We played silly games, laughed, and he was happy to be with me. A week before I left, he asked why I just couldn’t stay and live with them. I explained that I had a home in Texas to go back to and he replied, “But I’ll be sad and I’ll miss you.” I understood because I felt the same way. The day before I left, I’d given him a box that I no longer needed. He proceeded to fill the box with shoes, socks, underwear, clothes, pajamas, and the television remote. I was so confused so I asked him what he was doing. He responded that “he was packing so that he could go home with me.” I laughed and hugged my little guy. Yesterday, when I finally returned home, I called to say that I made it. He got on the phone and recounted how he’d gone to my room that morning and I wasn’t there and it made him sad and that he missed me. It tore at my heart.

So, two far different reactions, but also two far different circumstances. D. has graduated from her role as a baby to little girl to “big” girl. In order to do so, she must expand her ‘orbit,’ to learn about new things and meet new people. This will necessarily involve less time with G’Mom. She, too, will go through the same stages as her mother, aunt and uncle. There is nothing that any of us can do to avoid it–even G’Moms. It is a natural part of her progression toward adult. The thing is that, as with D., so goes B. It is an inevitable journey that the two must travel. Yet, they are not alone. As I wrote in the earlier post, “[you] do not need to be at the center of [their] world, to know that [you] are at the center of [their] heart.” I have no doubt where D’s heart lies and she knows that she is loved. Wherever her path leads her, she’ll always know that my heart is with her and my door is hers to open and find refuge. Perhaps, it will be easier with B. and the others, but as this situation has shown me, I doubt it.

If you’ve hung on this long, I thank you and am deeply indebted to you for listening, despite my verbosity. I definitely feel better. If you have dealt with a similar situation, I would love to hear how you handled it. I would welcome any pointers.