Gabby Abby's Open Salon Blog

20 Random Thoughts

Mon, 2 Apr 2012 16:04:39 -0400

I was inspired to empty my mental clutter box this morning in the hope that capturing and chaining random thoughts to paper would free up some cerebral disc space for other things.

I've realized, recently, that I'm 'forgetting' commitments, leaving The Very Important List behind when I need it the most, 'losing' important items I would generally have safely filed or put away, leaving phones off chargers, keys in weird places, and wet laundry in the washer (for 2 days).

I can't turn a page in any publication, click through random websites, or browse articles without coming to a subject title that includes the new hot word: De-Clutter. So why not? Cleaning out my mental lint might even help me feel a little less lazy when I come to those articles pushing me toward the garage, the hall closet, and my kitchen drawers. Now I can check off the YES box - I am decluttering!

The articles all start with sorting into 'keep', 'trash', 'donate' and 'hold for 6 months'... haha-maybe not that last one. Storage isn't allowed. Okay, here goes...

1) I'm missing coffee in the morning. What if I just bought some instant, made it up and poured it over ice? I'd have to make coffee ice cubes so it wouldn't get watered down...

2) ...those tax papers are still sitting on the table, calling me. I'd better see what today's date is...nothing like a tax sprint.

3) The cat looks peaceful laying in the sun. His cough is getting worse. I'm putting off a vet bill...what if it's serious?

4) I wonder who won that lottery...it's going to really change people's lives...really change. Financial freedom... enough money never to have to think about money. Work would be minding my own business...literally.

5) Those bananas are going bad - again... why do I keep buying bananas? I love a smoothy but not the clean up...it's just one more thing to do. I won't get bananas this week.

5) ...wonder how long N is going to have this job...his mania was on the upswing this week. The pattern, right on time. You can't fix it so stop thinking about it.

6) Trash out tonight... make a collection and get it into the can.

7) I do NOT plan to carry that bag of clothes around one more week. I still love that polkadot dress... it bothers me that I don't fit into it and I feel just as bad seeing it in the back of the closet. Get over to Hubbard House and give that stuff away... just forget about the damn dress.

8) I really thought this extra poundage would come off after starting the thyroid meds, it's been months...why isn't my weight shifting back yet? I wonder...what else is off?

9) I absolutely have to stop putting off looking into some sort of health insurance...

10) So glad I cleaned the kitchen yesterday. Now I don't want to mess it up. I hope there's some no-cook food in the fridge.

11) ...wonder why R hasn't called... she knows we need to talk about the sale price on the house. Usually she's up my back. She's probably irritated with me about... forget it. She'll have to say it herself. Walk away from the drama.

12) ...wonder what L is doing right now... it's 7 am her time. Sleeping still. I keep forgetting to call before bed. Maybe tonight.

13) that box of stuff I swept off the table really must be dealt with... today. There's probably tax stuff in there...

14) I didn't appreciate what a boon an office and a real desk were when it comes to staying organized. This moving shit is killing me. I can't find anything and don't want to start ploughing through all that stuff in the garage. Dread.

15) Thank god I took that huge shred bag to the Shredathon.

16) That strawberry thing on Pinterest would be easy to make, just need to run get some berrries.

17) no...better stay off Pinterest.

18) I need a Pintervention, I saw that somewhere... on Pinterest I think.

19) Why do I keep putting off what needs to be done? It's not easy to keep doing this... it's exhausting actually. I need to put this pen down and get busy...

20) Oh! I recorded Man Men last night...

Now I just have to go back and do the trash-donate-keep thing with this list. Maybe I'll just trash it.

Vacuum

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 18:01:44 -0500

What ever you may wish to say
it's too late
once again
a mother's love is blind
sometimes
but I always and ever still
wish on my stars
for you be an honest man
return to your being
an honorable person
the son you want to be
a man of integrity
a legacy to your own child
Never give up
I will forever love
the boy you were
and the 'you' you want to be.
Until you can look into my eyes
with truth
and the bright light of an open soul
who lives the life he was created for
and granted by grace
with health
and a sound mind and body
to live fully and joyously,
please take care of yourself
be well
my only son
Love
M

Banging the Drum...

Thu, 25 Aug 2011 16:08:43 -0400

Who would you be without your accomplishments (or failures), your degrees (or lack thereof), your bank accounts, your experiences, your title, your home, your status?

This question was asked by author Mike Robbins in something I recently read and it spun me off into such contemplation that I'm pretend-using my headset to talk to myself while driving and walking around in public, and I've placed notepads in very odd places in an attempt to capture some of the random thoughts that come and go like greens through a bunny in these mental pause days.

As simple a concept as this is to think about, its actually quite difficult to genuinely separate who we are from what we do (or have done or not done), especially when the number of years behind me far outweigh those I have left ahead. In my own life, this past year has shown (quite painfully) that the external circumstances of life can change and things can be taken away leaving no evidence they were ever even there for most of my life. Length of possession has no bearing on ownership in reality's universe.

In the aftermath the question that has pushed it's way to the front more than a few times has been 'What's my value now?' I've lost my sense of stability in a storm that has shaken me to my roots and taken a good bit of my sail away with it, and I have to ask myself ‘if I just got more done, lost a few pounds, made more money, achieved more goals, had more meaningful work, was in love, had successful happy kids, saved for retirement (or whatever else I could do to influence future security), would I feel more valuable?'

After having had a year of disengaged time to think about, well, anything and nothing really, I have to admit I’d still like to be able to accomplish some of those things. They are important to me, actually valuable to my way of thinking, but alack and alas – they are not the key to who I am. They really have nothing to do with my inner idea of a self-identity and have, simply and always, been the pretty face of external manifestations of a little wisdom and good use of the gifts I arrived with at birth – which we're all equipped with and draw on throughout our lives (such as they are).

I freely admit to having overlooked my own quivered arrows and moral compass at a few critical junctures, and in their stead, gave preference to the pretentions of others to feed and guide me, but I suppose that's what that 'free will' stuff is all about. (I never said I was smart!)

Having failed to accomplish many of the things I set out to do early in life, I'm now feeling pressure to more fully address the question of ‘What makes me valuable, if just being the way I am right now isn’t good enough’? Can I be satisfied and happy in an unfulfilled state? Especially knowing there is so much more that is important to me that I’ve yet to even begin to achieve? What if I never get there? How valuable will my life have been with so much unfulfilled desire at the end? Do my feelings of ‘not enough’ rob me of day-to-day comfort and fulfillment in the here and now (the only place we can ever really be as humans, right)?

I’ve come away with a number of answers, but time and recent experience has taught that after all the things are gone, ‘I’ am all that is left. Scary. Especially if you're me.

What I seem to have discovered is that so much of the suffering, stress, insecurity and worry that come as handouts as we enter the door to life on the planet here, oddly disappear into the ether when one is standing alone with no apology or pretense for what is apparent to me and anyone else who cares to look – a revelation of seismic magnitude, 9.5 at least. I'm just who I am, cellulite, wrinkles, and all. Not particulary stand out. Not the worst, not the best.

On the plus side, I no longer worry about much. I'm not suffering nearly as much as I know I could be. I have no guilt, don't apologize for myself very often, and find I can leave grudgy feelings on the ground and walk away on (self) command if I need to. I've struck oil!

I think learning about your ‘self’ takes courage, commitment, openness, and faith that it will all come right in the end. It's been a process of letting go of the many false beliefs picked up from the collective consciousness: that you have to look good, be smart, know the right people, say the right things, and have the proper experience, in order to be happy and successful in life. Peeling back layers to the point at which you can simply ‘Be Yourself’ is counterintuitive, difficult and off-putting and, at times, lonely. It’s the waking nights, the anxious days, the churning gut, and the whirling mind. All the things we scurry like mad to avoid. Filling the days with busy, busy and putting the parentheses of chores, errands, and family duties or social commitments around the nights.

Banging away on the drum to drown out the silence that leeches in when we are alone, finally, with only ourselves to talk and listen to. The question eventually emerges...am I good enough?

The yardsticks we use to make that measurement largely depend on the state of mind we find ourselves in. As long as externalities, such as accomplishments and things, are held up to measure the value of a being, we will fall sadly and sorely short. In that place we are wont to overlook how far we’ve come in our ability to care, to give, to love, and to place our essence into the lives of others at critical moments – when it really matters – to be the change we want to see, as Gandhi wisely recommended.

Being ourselves in an authentic way is actually about accepting ourselves in a generous way. If we can show love to our 'selves' in the way we've tried to show love to others, most of what we worry about and even much of what we strive for in life becomes meaningless. We may still have some worries, and we'll definitely continue to have goals, dreams and desires but when we can see from a place of true self-appreciation and self-caring, the fear behind our worries and the motivation for our goals dramatically changes from something we have to produce in order to be accepted and valued, to something we really want to be as we live and learn. It finally stops being about the external altogether and the mind’s eye is refocused inward to the source of where all that we are resides.

Truthfully, if we can’t find room to accept who we are, as we are right here, right now, nothing much really matters anyway. No matter what we conquer or create, or what we lose and how many times we fall down in defeat, we will never be fulfilled in the struggle because we're striving to be validated in an insatiable way. We can never get enough love and validation from any source outside of that silly, sometimes unlovely, amazing person we find ourselves to be.

Self-love is what we're all searching for. Eureka!

Sadly, because it is so simple, we spend most of our lives thinking that someone or something else can give us what only we can give ourselves. No other person, amount of money, possessions, or a fleeting sense of accomplishment will ever fill us up. It's not hopeless though. We can stand alone, clothed in the authenticity of who we are, and offer complete, unfettered acceptance of ourselves, to ourselves. Just as we are. Here. Now.

It has become crystal clear, now that I am without all the props, it’s always been up to me (click your heels Dorothy). I can celebrate who I am at any time, and for any reason or no reason. The more often I stop and carry out this little 'I love you anyway' ritual, the better I feel.

Love others as you love yourself ~ The ancient wise man that said that was much, much (much) further along on his journey than most. I think he was certainly divinely enlightened and I wish I had been able to understand what he meant sooner, then perhaps I wouldn't have had to learn this the oh-so-very-hard way, so late. I’m getting there though. The progress is generally too difficult to see, yet every now and then the protective scales fall away and a glimpse of all that is yet to be surrounds me for just a split second, and then I can see it's all going to come around in the end.

I can live with that.

I Probably Will Never Post This

Mon, 18 Apr 2011 12:04:16 -0400

I came across this written by a fellow member who will forever remain anonymous and posted it myself because I thought it was funny, clever, and it made me laugh...

∞∞∞∞

I probably will never post this:

OS to English Translation Guide

There are so many new people joining Open Salon every day and they may have trouble figuring out all of the OS terminology. I post this translation guide to assist the newbies who are trying to feel at home in the blogosphere.

“Rated.” When used as an entire comment: “Your post sucked, but I don’t have the heart to tell you.”

“R.” When used as an entire comment: “Wow, your post REALLY sucked.”

“Rated with hugs.” Your post sucked, but at least Linda Seccaspina likes you.

“Ed I Tor” Whimsical name for Emily, the editor of OS. Correct way to curry favor with Emily: send her flowers. Incorrect way to curry favor with Emily: refer to her as “The Bride of Tinkenstein.”

“EDITOR’S PICK” (EP) A label arbitrarily given to posts that nobody wants to read, as opposed to Tinkpicks or Zumapicks, which are given to posts that people actually read and enjoy.

“Cross-posting.” When your post is considered salacious enough to be exposed to the trolls who comment on Big Salon. Not as much fun as pounding your head against the wall for four hours, but the pay is the same.

“Meta post” A transparent attempt to dominate the “Top Rated” feed.

“Technical support” n/a

“Avatar” Icon in the upper left-hand corner of your page. Usually a photo of the author, unless he or she is wanted by the police.

“Blogiversary” “I’ve been here for a full year. NOW will you read me?”

“Flame wars / dust-ups” Wherever some combination of Fett, Emma, Trig and Nanatehay show up on the same blog.

“Alter egos” 1) “I’m too prolific for one blog.” 2) A sneaky, unethical way to increase one’s ratings (allegedly). 3) “Whose character can I assassinate anonymously?”

“Blogwhoring” The announcement of your latest post by sending a mass PM that is immediately deleted by all of its recipients. Alternate definition: the only way to get readers.

“If you don’t wish to receive my blogwhoring PMs, just tell me and I will delete you from my list and not take offense.” Yeah, right.

“Maestro” God’s gift to literature; God’s gift to women; man’s man. Alternate definition: arrogant, self-righteous scribbler whose talent is much smaller than his ego, though probably not smaller than his genitals, who flounces whenever the moon reaches a new phase and can’t get a novel published because publishing houses can’t handle his “unique talent.”

“Potroast” See maestro.

“I’m a real writer.” “I’ve actually gotten paid to put pen to paper and I still get lower ratings than you illiterate, snot-nosed punks?”

“I don’t write here anymore.” “I only come here to complain about how much the writing sucks, and I’d rather do that than spend time at the mythical website where the writing is of the highest quality.”

“Tippem.” An April Fool’s joke gone awry. Like the “I’m under 18” button on a porn site, nobody has ever clicked on it.

“Blog ads” A way to make money off your own blog page. Reportedly, one OSer was able to buy a candy bar once, but that may be urban legend.

“Paid writing gig” Definitely an urban legend.

“Spambots” Spam creators who slip the OS editors a Mickey on the weekends so they can control the OS feed and have their own office party in OS headquarters. Note: do not use the OS Xerox machines on Monday mornings until they have been thoroughly disinfected.

“Flounce” “I hate this place and I’m leaving, but before I do, I just want to say, ‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!’ See you tomorrow, guys!”

Face to Face

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 13:03:08 -0400

_{^{Photo - Vanya}}

^{For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then, face to face. Now I know in part, but then shall I know, even as also I am known.}

_{~ 1 Corinthians 13:12}

The simple recognition that there's life after worst-case marked the beginning of a transformation. I told myself, You just can't catastrophize this. It can't just be over. Your life isn't over.

Once I landed smack in the middle of my own worst-case scenario I had to ask, what's the most awful feeling I'm going to have to endure here? There wasn't just one to choose from. I had fear, failure, loss, shame, rejection, and my gut hurt. I wanted to run.

That was the clue, right there - if I wanted to, I could. No one would stop me. For me, running involves climbing between the sheets and letting the world go on without me. I recognized the moment when ordinarily I would check out, go numb, and sink into a "What's the use?" depression.

This time, after running a bit, I took a more measured approach and although the bed and the covers have played a significant role on the path toward understanding and a little bit of recovery, I've been able to shuck them off in an effort to feel what I'd been resisting, perhaps for most of my life.

I didn't have to imagine what it would be like if the worst had come to pass. I'd blown up my life in a spectacular way - financially, professionally, personally, emotionally, spiritually - and there was nothing recognizable left. Not even a few shreds of what had been there before were left behind. Nothing to scrape up and piece together in any pointless effort to cover myself.

I gave myself over completely to torment, staying connected to its symptoms. Heartburn and stomach upset, unable to eat, wide eyed insomnia for days and days. Night terrors stemming from unaddressed fear and the fear itself which made me walk the floors imagining all of the other horrible things that may still happen. There's also some weight gain, along with a general downshifting in my over-all appearance.

I looked in the mirror, not at myself but beyond myself. That visage in the glass is older and heavier. The dull face and flat joyless eyes remind me of no one I know. Sharp emptiness reflects back.

Whenever I lost the focus I was holding on the horror of my life, I'd reclaim my sunken spot in the bed and patiently bring it back. My awareness remained steady, and still. Freed up in this way, emotions shifted and changed like the weather outside the closed and curtained bedroom window opposite my safe space under the duvet.

The emotions I thought would be intolerable actually weren't. I'm bent, deeply bowed to the ground by my life and my choices. I accept this, and do not run and hide from the awarenesses that flow through me, yet do not shift me from my bed. My rock in the river.

I don't have to deny the feelings, and I don't have to react to them either. There they lie.

Depleted. Impotent. Stunted. Incapable. Insufficient. Unhealthy. Poor in spirit. Doubting. I am a bona fide thesaurus of in- and un- words, yet a life-long resistance to being overwhelmed by that seems to have washed down the river. I feel cleansed of... something, nothing specific though.

Standing naked, clothed in what feels like authenticity. Looking through the darkened glass, I wish to know myself as I am known on some great empyrean plane where the glass is crystalline, and it rings purely into the air when touched with another.

I think I may have set myself free. I want to remember how it happened as surely I will need to do it again, only faster.