A Tank of Gas

185 Marbles 
Give me where to stand, and I will move the earth.
Archimedes

    I had to fill my tank up with gas today and as I stood there with the pump in my hand, I recalled how Ex-man would always run the car until it barely had any gas in it.  The light would be on and I would often wonder at what point we’d run out of gas.  When I was pregnant, for some reason, I found this propensity of his particularly unnerving.  I remember having an argument when we were going out one night because I wanted him to add some gas to the nearly empty tank and he refused to do it.  I’ll admit that it was a quirk of mine, but being pregnant (and soon to be without an income and dependent upon him) I needed to feel that the bases were covered and gas in the tank would have made me feel more secure.  (He used to feel secure having a fully-stocked pantry, my idiosyncrasy was a tank of gas - not necessarily a full one, just not light-flashing empty.)  
    I realize my lack of trust in his ability to take care of things could have been what he reacted to and why he refused to buy gas. But I had reason to be doubtful - he wasn’t making much money.  I didn’t like the feeling of being dependent on someone who I didn’t trust financially. More importantly, I didn’t understand why he couldn’t just have agreed to my request and given me a Princess Bride’s “As you wish.” He was at no risk of being “whipped” or subjugated to my every whim as he was known for his stubborn streak.  Occasionally simply agreeing would have been a welcome addition to our relationship.  
    On a deeper level, perhaps being with Ex-man challenged my ideas around security as I often felt like I had no real foundation upon which to stand.  One of his gifts to me was to challenge me to stand on my own feet for it is only on my own two feet that I will move the earth. 

What are the things that make you feel secure?  Do they really offer you “1.  Freedom from risk or danger; safety? Or  2. Freedom from doubt, anxiety, or fear?” Is there anything that can give that to you?   

Loss of Who I Am

186 Marbles 
Rafiki: Asante sana Squash banana, Wiwi nugu Mi mi apana!
Adult Simba: Enough already! What's that supposed to mean, anyway?
Rafiki: It means you're a baboon... and I'm not.
Adult Simba: I think you're a little confused.
Rafiki: Wrong! I'm not the one who's confused. You don't even know who you are!
Disney’s “The Lion King”

    Last week I went to The Lion King playing in a local park.  The above scene reminded me of the feeling that I had the first year I went back to school for writing.  Ex-man and I were having some serious challenges, my kids were younger and more demanding and (despite going back to school for what I love doing) I had seriously lost connection with who I was.  I was angry at Ex-man and frustrated with our relationship and I had lost access to my own strength. 
    After a particularly demanding week, I went to class feeling spent.  One of my cohorts came in late after cycling to school.  When I looked up at her, she was glowing and I saw that she was being who she was meant to be.  The words, “You have forgotten who you are” popped into my head and for a moment I was clear that my relationship with Ex-man was wrong for me (as was the relationship I was having with myself).  Yet, “because of the kids” I ignored what I knew to be true. 
    Marianne Williamson says, “When we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”  My classmate’s presence gave me a silent invitation to step into more of who I was.  Despite staying with Ex-man for some time after that day in class, I was more aware that I had another choice.  Eckhart Tolle wrote, “Tragedy is the loss of the knowledge of who you are, with the result that you do not contribute what you are here to do.” What I know about my relationship with Ex-man is that so much energy was spent in frustration and conflict that I had much less to contribute to what I am here to do.  As I draw my energy back 179 Marbles post breakup, I notice that I have more energy to be who I want to be and who I am meant to be. 

A breakup can feel like you’re losing something that you are (a spouse/partner/girlfriend) but on a deeper level, it doesn’t affect who you be.  In Eckhart Tolle’s words, “You can only lose something that you have, but you cannot lose something that you are.” Can you let go of the circumstances of your breakup and be open to who you are on a deeper level?

Trail Blazing

187 Marbles

    My kids are still off with their Dad so I decided to take advantage of the free time and plan another outing.  My niece  (think forty-year-old) and I hopped in my car and headed to a lake an hour out of town.  When we arrived, we found trails around the lake and we thought it would be nice to go for a walk before our swim.      
    We started off wearing our flip flops as the trail looked pretty groomed and easy.  As we headed away from the lake, the trail got denser and less easily navigated.  My niece noticed the huckleberry bushes loaded with berries and started asking questions about bears.  I assured her that there was no need to worry about bears.  We were in the mountains, near a lake, with lots of berries.  Besides, don’t bears hibernate in the – the -  summer? 
    We trudged forward and the trail vanished into the overgrown brush.  My niece suggested we go back, but I told her that this was all part of the adventure.  She and I could have taken the easy path, but we took the road less traveled and now we just had to find which way to go.
    We worked our way through the undergrowth to find the suggestion of a  trail and breathed a sigh of relief.  Surely it would be smooth trailing from then on but it wasn’t.  For the next hour and a bit we found and lost the trail several times (cutbacks in the parks department’s budget?)  We climbed gigantic rocks, experienced false starts and wrong turns and all in flip flops. Finally, about two and a half hours after starting our “little” walk around the lake, we found ourselves back in civilization – the parking lot.  We were ready for a swim. 
    After a quick dip in the cool mountain lake we lay on the rocks basking in the nearly setting sun.  My legs were still sore from my hike up the Chief but I felt good.  My niece asked the woman next to us if there were bears in the area.  “Sure,” she answered, “But don’t worry, they don’t usually come right around the lake.” My niece looked at me and I smiled a guilty smile. 

Have you noticed that your life has become less about your past life in your relationship and more completely yours (with or without children)?  You have been given a type of freedom… what are you going to do with it? 

Table Scraps

188 Marbles 
The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it.
Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose 


    My kids are still away for a few more days so I’ve had a bit more free time.  What I’m noticing is that after almost six months of marbles, I’m adjusting to my new life quite well.  My life becomes less and less about the breakup and missing the relationship and Ex-man, and more and more about me and creating the type of life that I actually want to be living. Sometimes there can be so much compromise in a relationship that before you know it, you’ve been detoured down a path that is in the opposite direction from where you want to be.  It can take a while after a breakup to start heading in the right direction. 
    I’m also aware that for as long as I’m dealing with Ex-man regarding the kids, I may as well resign myself to having disagreements with him (we didn’t agree when we were together, why would we now that we’re apart?)  We see things in a very different way, yet for my own well-being it helps when I try to expand the way that I see things.  For example, regarding the birthday party (Marble 190), I could ask myself, “Given all the facts, what other story could I be telling about the birthday party planning?”  One of the answers might be, “Wow, I’m lucky to have chosen a father for my kids who takes such initiative to plan our daughter’s party.”  It’s the old glass-half-empty or glass-half-full phenomenon. 
    Ex-man breaking up with me was actually a huge favor.  The relationship wasn’t nurturing either one of us.  I had recreated the table scrap relationship of my parents and somehow I was content to subsist on scraps when I could have been sitting at a relationship buffet. But maybe it’s my idea of relationship that is ancient and obsolete.  What if a relationship is really just about supporting us to nurture ourselves?  What if there are no umbilical cords in relationships just the kindness of a friend/partner who is witness to our life?  Oh, and intimate sex.  There has to be sex. 

When the time is right, what do you want out of a relationship?  I know in a new relationship I want more fun, but what else do I want to create? 

 

The Chief

189 Marbles

    My kids are off with Ex-man for a few days at another lake with friends and I’m really missing them.  I’m trying to keep myself busy, doing fun things like going to movies in the park, watching the firework festival, and catching up on some writing. Yesterday I went on a hike up "The Chief" – a granite dome rising 700 metres above a local town.  I went with a yogi friend from work and we had an amazing day.  The hike was somewhat challenging, but I have been hiking regularly so I was prepared. More importantly, the hike was astoundingly beautiful.
    As we started hiking, I asked my friend, “Is the view from the top amazing?”  She answered, “The view is amazing now.” As I looked around me, I knew she was right.  Why am I so goal oriented?  What would it take for me to enjoy the moments en route? 
     Halfway up, we stopped at a helicopter landing pad with an expansive view of a lush valley of trees.  We ate fresh raspberries from my garden and local cherries and we watched the pits bounce down the steep granite escarpment. 
    The view from the top was incredible – kite sailors on the water below, the local town, snow-topped mountains in the distance.  We lay on the warm granite and relaxed as chipmunks and chickadees came by for a visit.  There was no rush as there were no kids to get home to - it was luxuriously languid. 
    The descending part was a little more challenging (I prefer climbing) but my yogi friend reminded me to have fun with it as we used the chains to swing down the steeper parts of the trail.  When we reached the bottom we were hot and sweaty so we found a little lake with refreshingly cool water to go for a dip on our way back to the city.  After our swim, we warmed ourselves by the lake and as I sat with the sunshine reflected off the water, I said to my friend, “You know the best part of this moment?” “What?” she asked.  “That there are no words to describe how amazing this feels right now.” Words pale in comparison to the experience in 3-d.  Yesterday reminded me that sometimes the summit is not the only destination.  Be-ing is the only goal.

What would it take for you to squeeze more juicy moments out of life? 

The Birthday Party

190 Marbles

    My daughter recently had a birthday but delayed her party because all of her friends were out of town (one of the cons of a summer birthday).  We decided to have her party closer to when school got back in so that her friends would be able to attend but I got an email from Ex-man tonight saying that he had booked a birthday trip to a local island a month and a half after school started on the weekend when I work.  This birthday party would take a couple of her friends and involve ferries and a hotel room and he was asking for me to chip in for it.  I felt he was making choices from the “planet of me” when with our kids, I felt I should have been included in the process. 
    I felt reactive immediately.  Why would he choose to book something for her birthday on a weekend when he knew I couldn’t attend?  Why wouldn’t he have talked to me first?  Why was I being excluded from the birthday plans when I was kind of instrumental in the actual birth?  (Yes, I know it’s not about me, but I like being present to celebrate my daughter’s day.)
    I made the mistake of phoning Ex-man when I was still feeling reactive.  I questioned him on why he didn’t include me in the planning and why he chose a weekend when I’d be working.  He told me that I could take the girls if I wanted to - it made no difference to him.  In his new stance, the party would cost me the money for the nights I’d have to take off work as well as the expense of the trip - too much cash for a birthday party. 
    When I got off the phone with him, I realized that I had choices too.  I opted out of Ex-man’s weekend and after talking with my daughter, I decided to have a small party for her when her friends got back into town. What she really wanted was to rent a limousine and tour around for an hour and then have a sleepover.  After calling a few companies, what I had originally thought was extravagant, was actually affordable and something I could swing. 
    I’m also aware that although my Ex-husband and I have always managed to have a joint celebration for our son’s birthday, Ex-man and my breakup may require separate birthday parties and that’s okay. What our kids lose in togetherness, they’ll gain in having two celebrations.  And I’m open for this to change as the marbles tick by…

What would it take for me to be less reactive with Ex-man?  What would it take for me to be okay when I sense he’s doing exclusion? 

Check out http://www.divorcehelpforparents.com/birthdays.html  - an excellent reference on celebrating kids birthdays post breakup. 

Setting the Ceiling High

191 Marbles

There are no limitations to the mind except those we acknowledge.
Napoleon Hill 

    I remember going into my first class in Grade 8.  I was in a private girls’ school that had an entrance examination to be accepted and the bar was already set higher than my elementary school.  My Social Studies teacher, Ms. Lyons, was a formidable woman who gave us a big assignment on our first day of school, bringing in the stellar projects from the previous years to use as examples.  I can’t even remember what the project assignment was, but I remember leafing through the perfectly composed and presented assignments and gulping to myself, “She’s got to be kidding.”  When class was over, she came back to me and, as if reading my mind, said directly to me, “That’s the kind of work I expect from you.”
    I remember thinking, “Yeah, right,” along with, “How does she even know that I’m capable of this?” but she said it with such conviction that a little kernel of belief formed inside of me and I thought, “Maybe I can do this incredible work.”  I remember working so hard on that project and when I finished it, it rivaled the work of those chosen few from the first day of class.  But more than anything, I learned that we create our own limitations.  If she didn’t see possibility in me, I probably wouldn’t have seen it in myself and I would have produced a mediocre outcome.  Patricia Neal noted, "A master can tell you what he expects of you. A teacher, though, awakens your own expectations.
"
    I’ve been thinking about limitations lately, wondering what limitations I’m not seeing that, if Ms. Lyons were here, she’d point out to me.  Where am I not setting my ceiling high enough?  And is the idea of a ceiling a limitation in itself?  To help illuminate the subject, I turned to others who have traveled the same roads.  Here are some of my favorite quotes:

Limitations live only in our minds. But if we use our imaginations, our possibilities become limitless.

Jamie Paolinetti 

Any person who selects a goal in life which can be fully achieved, has already defined his own limitations.

Cavett Robert 

Stop thinking in terms of limitations and start thinking in terms of possibilities.
Terry Josephson 

When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds: Your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction, and you find yourself in a new, great, and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive, and your discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be.

Patanjali quotes

Learning too soon our limitations, we never learn our powers. 

Mignon McLaughlin

Don't believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding, find out what you already know, and you'll see the way to fly.
Richard Bach

Where are you seeing limitations where there could be possibilities? 

The Forgetting Pill

192 Marbles
Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.
Nietzche

    I recently read an article in Wired magazine called “The Forgetting Pill Erases Painful Memories Forever.”  The article discusses the recent findings of how chemical inhibitors can be used to help control memory recall.  It appears that the day is close at hand when you could choose to to take a variety of pills to erase memories such as “the scent of a former lover or the awful heartbreak of a failed relationship.” According to the article, “in the very near future, the act of remembering will become a choice.”
    Interesting… if given the choice would I opt to remember Ex-man?  Whereas it’s taken me nearly six months (and counting) in the process of letting go, I can’t say that I’d choose to forget him. Pragmatically, if he were taken out of the equation of my life through selective memory manipulation, I’d have the details of our two children to explain.  But if the cocktail of chemicals could manipulate the thoughts and feelings while maintaining the memories, perhaps they’d have a customer.  This is precisely what is promised for the future. 
    The movie “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” explores erasing a lost love from memory.  In it, the “doctor” tells Jim Carrey’s character that his ex “was not happy and she wanted to move on.  We provide that opportunity.”  They systematically removed all context of Carrey from her memory to allow for a clean slate (or spotless mind).  The subsequent events provide an interesting study of attraction, love, and loss (I won’t provide any spoilers).  An excellent post breakup flick choice.
    Perhaps the most pressing question is, knowing what I know now, would I have chosen Ex-man?  The unfortunate answer is yes.  It may be in extremely poor taste to compare our relationship to a disease but in some ways, it was.  I’ve often heard cancer patients claim that their disease brought them more strength and awareness, things that they would not have had access to had they not had their oncological nightmare. I feel similarly about my relationship with Ex-man. 
    So maybe it’s less about the significance of memories and more about my choices in framing my past relationship and breakup in the present moment.  The present is the area where I have more freedom of movement. 

Given the choice, would you erase your ex from your memory?  Would you choose him/her again?  How much freedom do you have to re-frame your relationship in the present moment?

Photos (or Lack Thereof)

193 Marbles

    My daughter and son took out the photo albums to look at photos from when they were babies.  I sat down with them for a bit and started flipping through the pages.  It was great to take a moment to look back at how much they’ve each grown and remember some awesome moments of their toddlerhoods (like my son’s stage of wearing his swimming goggles around the house). 
    What amazed me about the volumes of albums is the lack of photos of Ex-man and me.  I could have counted on two hands the number of photos of us in the dozen years we spent together.  You could argue that someone had to be the photographer but bottom line, Ex-man and I just didn’t have that many great times together to warrant a photo being taken, nor did we have a celebratory relationship.  Yes, our family times were good and most of the photos were of the kids but why was that?  Perhaps our job together was merely to be parents to our kids.  Sometimes the empty spaces say more than the full spaces.  
    When I look back at the photos of my Ex-husband and me, I see countless photos of the two of us - our wedding photos, us traipsing around Europe, dinner parties, etc.  Whereas it’s not fair to compare the two relationships, what I’m aware of is that in my next relationship, I’d like to have more fun times.

The question is, if there weren’t so many magic moments with Ex-man and me, why am I having such difficulty letting go?   Do numerous photos make it easier or harder to let go of an ex?  Or are the photos insignificant?  Is it the memories that are significant? Or are neither significant?  Is it the mind that is creating significance and preventing from being in allowance of change? 

Math Equations

194 Marbles

    My son was quizzing me with math equations and it made me think about the mathematical equations associated with love and relationships.  Someone recently told me that she was looking for someone to complete her and while I know it was a line from the movie “Jerry McGuire”, the phrase bothers me on so many levels.  I know so many women that swooned when Tom Cruise said the line “You complete me” to Renee Zellweger but I found it annoying.  The math equation for this particular phenomena is .5 + .5 = 1.  With this equation, it’s like we’re not whole people to begin with and we need someone else to fill the missing gap.  When I was younger this may have been the scenario that I partook in but I’m no longer interested in this equation.
    On the subtraction side, breakups are notorious for 2-1=1 and as the song goes, “One is the loneliest number that you ever do.”  I’ve even felt after a breakup that 2-1=0 (that I’m not left with much of anything).  The recent breakup made me feel that 2-1= .25+.3+.4 + .05 (I felt broken and I knew it would take some time to reassemble the pieces). 
    So if these are some of the equations related to relationships, what equation am I looking for now?  I’m looking for 1+1=3 – two whole people coming together and making something more (and I don’t mean a baby here – I’ve also done that and while it was awesome, those days are over for me).  I’m looking for the synergy of love that is in equal to or greater than 194 Marbles.

What is your math equation around love? 

“Broken” Homes

195 Marbles 

    My daughter cried herself to sleep last night over not having a family that was “normal” and lived together.   I held her and tried to tell her that we are normal – normal for us.  I also told her that there are some situations in life that you can’t change and rather than butting your head up against them, you just have to let go and adjust.  I listened to her tears and sadness and felt my guilt well up -  the guilt of Ex-man and me choosing to separate - a choice that affected her childhood. 
    When I was growing up, children from divorced parents were described as coming from “broken” homes.  When my eldest son’s father and I got divorced he was only a toddler.  When he was about four, he started asking me why I wasn’t still with his father (he could see that we got along well and didn’t fight).  I tried to explain to him that we had both chosen to end the relationship - that it wasn’t working for us.  He replied, “But I didn’t choose.”  In that little sentence I felt a world of responsibility.  Years later that weight kept me staying in a relationship with Ex-man long after its shelf-life had expired. 
    But what exactly is a broken home?  At first glance, the label seems negative - like there’s something that was whole that is now fractured or incomplete.  Yet there are many things that are broken that allow for more - like a broken egg shell that allows a bird to hatch or the split cocoon of a butterfly.  So maybe that’s what it comes down to - if a relationship doesn’t allow the people in it to keep growing, sometimes the home splits apart to allow for more. 

If this rings a bell, what would it take for you to forgive yourself for the breakup that changed the landscape of your kids' childhood? 

House of Mirrors

196 Marbles
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”

    I’ve been feeling a lot of self-doubt over the past few days.  The variety that looks at the balance sheet of my life and goes, “How exactly did I manage to get here?” And more importantly, “Is this even where I’m supposed to be?”  I am tired of having to think about every extra expense, not knowing for sure if it’s going to be a money-making night at work.  My life looks so different from my cohorts lives that are mainly married, living in their own homes, working in a career. 
I keep reminding myself of an artist who I heard being interviewed several years ago after she won an award late in her life. She called herself a late-bloomer and said,”I had to learn not to look at my friend’s lives and compare where they were with where I was.”  When she said those words, I knew that they were true for me.  I knew that I could only ever live my own life and follow my own passion, and that’s what I have been doing. 
I was given a fitting metaphor when I went to fair this afternoon with my son and his friend.  When we came up to the House of Mirrors, they both wanted to go in, but they didn’t want to go into the maze alone.  I told them what I had learned about these ill-maintained fun houses, “If you get lost, look down at the ground.  The way out will be the floor with the worn paint.”  They still wanted me to join them and sure enough, the path out was easy if we looked down at the well-trodden floor. 
    But what about those who take the roads less trodden? I sometimes wish that I had wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer or anything with a solid career path.  I’m goal oriented and I like easy-to-read street signs along the way.  But then I remember the truth of Robert Frost’s words and I know that I am on the path of my choosing. 

Are you on the path of your choosing?  If not, what would it take to get you onto that path? 

Bad Dream

Letting go already...

197 Marbles

    I had a dream about Ex-man last night.  Really, subconscious mind?  When will you be done with him?  Or was it because he wasn’t at the dinner party that he showed up in my dream?  Ugh!   It’s frustrating trying to move on in my waking life and being sucked into the past when I close my eyes!!! The worst part is that in my dream we were together in the carnal sense  (the only action I’m getting is when I’m sleeping). 
    After we had sex, Ex-man left me in bed to go back to school.  I followed him to his class where I had to pull back a veiled curtain to see if he was there.  At first glance, I didn’t see him, then I saw his signature white hair talking to another girl.  He saw me and came out of class and walked right by me. I was of two minds, the first mind telling me to walk away from the table- scrap relationship.  The other mind won over and I grabbed his arm while the people in the hall stared.  At first he spurned me, saying, “Nobody knows about you here. I’ve borrowed rulers and compasses from other girls.” Then he caught my eye and in an instant he knew what a jerk he was being.  He held me close to him on the hallway steps and I hugged him. 
    Then my recessive mind started taking over.  I thought, “He saved face in the hallway - he didn’t want to make a scene but I will not be going back to him.” Then I walked away.

Can we make a deal subconscious mind?  Can this be the last sex dream I have with Ex-man as the leading man? 

Improv Pie

198 Marbles

    Last night I had a few people over for dinner.  I was uncharacteristically prepared because I did all my prep work so I could just relax and enjoy my friends.  I was a regular Martha Stewart, fully dressed and ready to greet my company. I was particularly proud of a Coconut Cream Pie that I made for the first time.  It looked amazing and I was so excited to try it that I mentioned it twice during dinner.  
    After dinner as I was pulling the pie from the fridge, somehow it slid from my hands and landed upside down on the kitchen tiles.  My niece was there with me in the kitchen and she started howling with laughter.  My running partner saw the action as well and said, “That was my favorite part of the whole night!”  “Favorite part? What am I going to do for dessert now?”  They both answered, “Flip it over and serve it up.” I vehemently opposed their idea for several reasons – firstly it was way past the three-second rule.  Secondly, while I had just mopped the floor and felt fairly sure that the rest of the guests would share my conspirators’ joviality over the situation - two of the guests were European (German and Austrian) and I didn’t think they’d appreciate the humor of a Coconut Upside Down Pie (they probably wouldn’t have the history of black and white comedies where the cream pie always landed on someone’s face).  Thirdly, while I was sure that the human immune system was capable of surviving anything my semi-clean floor would throw at it, grit and pie don’t mix.  Lastly, it was embarrassing.  The pie was the “perfect” conclusion to a “perfect” meal.  What would Martha do?  (She’d probably have a backup pie prepared just in case.)
    As my two cohorts set about flipping the pie right side up while disposing of the parts that were in direct contact with the floor, I had fits of laughter coupled with bouts of admonishing them for attempting such a feat.  I re-toasted coconut to sprinkle on top, and when it was done, it was almost presentable (in a Laurel and Hardy kind of way).  The two of them were giddy conspirators when they served up the pie.  It was remarkably delicious.
    My running partner is part of an improv troupe, juicing humor out of every moment on stage.  I don’t think Martha could do improv because she’s all about the preparation but sometimes life requires improvisation.  When I went to bed last night, it was the upside down pie that made me smile.  My running partner was right - it was the best part of the night.

Impromptu is defined as prompted by the occasion rather than being planned in advance.  Impromptu moments can make you feel the magic of life and living.  What would it take for you to feel more comfortable with improvisation? 

Consignment Shopping

199 Marbles 

    I love clothes - I love dresses, I love skirts, I love coats, I love shirts, and I love, love, love shoes.  Problem is I don’t particularly like shopping and even if I did, while I’m in school I don’t have much disposable income to spend on clothes.  My kids are always growing – they need new clothes, I only want clothes.   I’ve found a solution that solves this dilemma – a consignment store in a wealthy area of town.  Usually the store is good to shop at but twice a year, they have their 50% off sale and that’s when I find the really good stuff. 
    Today for $143 I found: two work dresses, four other dresses, a casual skirt, a t-shirt, a pair of shoes, two sweaters, and a lovely brocade coat with velvet trim.  I have a really good eye for quality so despite the quantity of clothes that I scored, they are all good designer labels.  

    Someone once asked me if I shop mainly at consignment because I don’t think I’m good enough to shop retail.  I thought it was an interesting question because I hadn’t associated shopping with self esteem so I asked her if shopping retail made her feel better about herself.  I get that there is often a connection but I don’t feel "less than" when I shop consignment. 
    I often wonder if more income comes my way in the future, will I still take these jaunts to the consignment store?  I think I will for a number of reasons: Firstly, fashion is not very friendly on the environment and I like the idea of re-using some other woman’s adorable lightlly-worn discards; Secondly, I still like the idea of getting a bargain and using my money for other things like travel; Thirdly, fashion is a bit of a following-the-herd phenomena and whereas I like to have style, the items aren’t usually on the cusp of fashion trends - they’re items that I like;  Lastly, seeing as I don’t actually love the act of going store to store shopping, I do like the one-stop shopping of checking out my favorite consignment store. 
    When I look back on how my mother shopped, I recall going shopping to bargain basements.  Growing up, I found this annoying but I now know she was doing the best with the family resources.  Whereas consignment shopping makes me feel clever, stylish, and resourceful, I wonder what my own daughter will think…

Audrey Hepburn said, "The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years."  Can you connect to your beauty in or out of clothes? 

Sometimes a Hope Chest is not just a Hope Chest

200 Marbles 
Hope is what keeps you going, but hope keeps you focused on the future, and this continued focus perpetuates your denial of the Now and therefore your unhappiness.
Eckhard Tolle, "The Power of Now"

     I had the idea to pay the repair guy from Marble 205 to cut a piece of plywood for the top of my hope chest.  He cut the wood, sanded it, then offered to stain the top and put it back on its hinges.  I thought about it but then declined.  I wanted to be the one to make the top of the chest and cover it with padding and the fabric of my choice.
    Today I finished the hope chest and it looks great in our living room.  It’s a bit lumpier than the one in the magazine, but I’m quite proud of it.  Sure, it’s only a hope chest, but as Pandora’s box suggests, what do we really have if we don’t have hope?
    In the Greek myth, Pandora was the first woman and like Eve, she was equally curious.  She was given a box and was told not to open it and, like her biblical counterpart, her curiosity got the better of her.  When she lifted the lid, all the evils of the world escaped and ruined her idyllic existence.  When she realized what she had done, she quickly secured the lid back on her box.  The only thing that hadn’t escaped was hope.  The myth tells us that no matter what goes down, humanity is always left with hope. 
    It’s not a coincidence that just as my relationship with Ex-man was falling apart, so was my hope chest – the hope chest that my father had made for me.  The chest that metaphorically held all my dreams of having a family of my own, of having a love to call my own.  When the chest broke, Ex-man started working on re-building it, but he never completed it.  He took me part of the way but it was my job to finish (both literally and metaphorically).  It was up to me to stain and varnish the sides and more importantly, it was up to me to figure a way to put the lid back on. With the lid back on, this much is clear: the only love I can call my own is me. 

As Eckhard Tolle suggests, does focusing on hope keep you from enjoying the present?  What would it take for you to have more ease with this time of my life?  
There's an old riddle that goes, "What is always coming but never arrives?"  The answer: Tomorrow.  What would it take for you to enjoy the only thing that you can really count on - Today?  

Whatever Doesn’t Kill You

201 Marbles 

They've got a wall in China
It's a thousand miles long
To keep out the foreigners they made it strong
And I've got a wall around me
That you can't even see
It took a little time
To get next to me
Paul Simon “Something So Right”

    Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  Or so the saying goes. 
    I was driving today in the car with my kids when a song came on with this adage embedded in the chorus.  When the song finished, my son said, “I don’t agree with that.” “With what?” I asked.  “With ‘whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’” He continued, “If something tried to kill you but didn’t, you wouldn’t be stronger, you’d be wounded and you’d probably need to go to the hospital.”  I could see his point, hypothetically, but I countered with, “Yeah, but maybe after you’d healed you’d be stronger.”  His quick response, “No you wouldn’t.  You’d be paranoid.” Ha.
    Touché.  Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you paranoid (or left with irrational fear/distrust of others).  I’ve seen it happen so often with people who have experienced a major breakup or divorce.  The ability to love with an open-heart is traded in for a more guarded, “adult” approach. I’ve seen others who won’t even venture into relationships after a divorce.  Instead, they wear the crusty scabs of their lost loves thinking that their loose-fitting clothing hides their injuries.  But it doesn’t.  When someone has the great wall of China around their heart, it’s never invisible. 
    So what’s the secret of being able to love open-heartedly without letting your heart become a welcome-sign doormat for everyone who wants to get the crud off their boots?  I’m not exactly sure, but I think it has to do with choosing relationships that allow the love of a balanced heart - the ability to love another whilst loving oneself (Marble 331).  The good news is, I have at least 201 Marbles to continue to balance my heart. 

Has your breakup made you paranoid? If so, what would it take for you to let go of the past and be open-hearted in the present?   
   

Boundary Issues

202 Marbles 

    I had a dream last night that the fence between my neighbour’s house and my house was being taken down by their large St. Bernard.  I watched the dog destroy the fence and make his way into my yard, digging up the grass and doing his business.  I got mad and I stormed over into the neighbor’s so he could clear the dog from the yard.  I tried to get the neighbour’s attention but he was riding his bicycle around and around in circles.  When I finally got his attention and showed him what his dog had done to the yard, he shrugged his shoulders and said “So what?” and continued riding around in his circles. 
    At first I said, “Okay, if that’s what you want to do, my kids will start playing in your yard.”  I went to tell the kids to go play in the neighbor’s but decided to work on getting the St. Bernard out of my yard.  It took a lot of effort to get the beast back on the other side of the fence and then to secure the damaged fence, but when I did, I felt proud of myself. 
    When I woke up, I felt good about asking Ex-man to come get what he left with me.  I need to be more clear about what’s mine and what’s not.  We are all psychically connected and even after the physical separation of a breakup, there is usually a residue of emotional/psychic separation that has to be made.  The stuff in the garage is just a physical representation of the garbage that can be left with me if I’m not aware of what belongs to me and what doesn’t.  I’m trying to return to sender all the stuff that I was “kind enough” to hold onto but that never belonged to me in the first place.  When I ask myself if this really needs to be done I remember a couple that I know who had been divorced for years - the man a drinker, the woman a teetotaller.  The man died of liver cancer and within six months, the woman died of liver failure.  Coincidence?  Maybe, or maybe they never quite completely divorced themselves from each other. 
    The other awareness that I got from my dream was how I often have used anger as a way to clear people from my space when I’m feeling pressed upon.  A good little temper tantrum can do wonders to clear space that has been infringed on.  My question now is, what would it take for me to find another way to be 100% me? 

What would it take for you to divorce yourself from your X on all levels?  Do you want to?  Would an energetic divorce give you more space to be 100% you?

Clearing the Garage

203 Marbles 

    I emailed Ex-man last week to ask him to come get the remainder of his belongings from the garage.  I figure that I’ve been quite patient but it’s time for me to move on and not have to look at his stuff every time that I go into the garage.
    Today I phone to ask him if he had received my email.  He went into a long story about how his iphone was water damaged and now he can’t see the screen well.  I asked him about his computer and he told me that he didn’t have his email set up yet.  So I recapped – I’d like the stuff out of the garage in a month or I’ll take it out myself.  He told me he didn’t think it was possible.  I told him that perhaps he had another friend who wouldn’t mind his stuff in the garage. 
    Although this request isn’t in the spirit of vindictiveness, I couldn’t help but remember how when we were living together in his house, I had some stuff in storage from when I had to clear out my parent’s house when they went into care homes.  One day, he and a friend took everything and put it into a truck and took it away to the dump.  I was so upset to come home and find the storage room completely cleared out.  I tried to take it as well as I could because I knew the stuff was in the way.  I also knew that I was having trouble letting go but the thing that made me most upset was all of my mother’s hand-written recipes, all the food that she used to prepare when I was growing up,  all of those went to the landfill as well.  Okay, so maybe I haven’t quite let go of that. 
    So we’ll see what happens.  We’ll see if he gets his shed made and gathers his stuff from the garage.  Either way, at the end of the month, it’s out of here…

Are there still details that tie you and your X together?  In the spirit of letting go and moving on, would it help to address them? 

Words of Wisdom

204 Marbles 
    A friend forwarded an email to me that was written by Regina Brett, a 90-year-old women.  It was a column she wrote about the 45 lessons that life taught her.  I won’t list all of them, but my favorites are as follows:

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step (Hmmm, this reminds me of Marble 253, finding the next best step)
3. Life is too short – enjoy it
5.Don't buy stuff you don't need.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present. (Isn’t this what the marbles are about?)
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry (Phew, my kids have seen me cry a few times post breakup)
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
16.. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind. (Exactly why I do yoga)
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful.  Clutter weighs you down in many ways. (A good Spring Cleaning - Marble 238 - is a great way to make yourself feel lighter)
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger. (This definitely includes breakups)
19. It's never too late to be happy.  But it’s all up to you and no one else. (Start your Happy Beginning - Marble 209)
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer. (Tenacity is great for a career, not always great in a relationship)
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain. (This doesn’t mean that relationships that are brain f***s are fun - avoid those)
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'
27. Always choose life.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business. (What you think of yourself is)
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time. (Or marbles…)
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved. (And even if you lost love, stay open to love again)
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere. (But try to take your best self out the door because if you don’t, all sorts of shenanigans can occur)
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
42. The best is yet to come ...
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up

Thanks, Regina! 

What have you learned along the way? Care to share? 

 

The Repair Guy

205 Marbles 

    My landlord has hired a guy to do some repairs around the house.  I’m a little uncomfortable with him in our home - he seems a little too eager, but perhaps I’m just slightly cynical.  Maybe he just wants human connection and his offer to drive me to work today was a nice gesture but I feel like he’s after something I’m not willing to provide.  What I’m most curious about is my discomfort over his attempts at making connection – his over-eager “I do yoga too” when seeing my yoga mat, looking at my art “I’m a painter too”, and his inquisitiveness about what I do.  It all feels like probing to me. 
    When I was practicing yoga today I asked “Why does this attention make me uncomfortable?”  Some women thrive on male attention and bask in it but somehow I tend to shy from it.  Sure, I will dress up and put heels on, do my make-up and toenails but I do it because it makes me feel good.  But why the uneasiness when I draw unwanted attention? 
    As I was breathing through my yoga practice, I remembered the first time as a young woman that I recall drawing male attention.  I must have been about thirteen and my parents and I were at a fishing resort.  There was a boy there a few years older than me that kept coming around our cabin and offering to take me and my father out fishing (I sensed he was already fishing).  My father teased me, saying that I was starting to get boys “sniffing around.” His choice of words seemed appropriate because I did feel like a piece of meat.  To add to my embarrassment, the boy kept coming by with gifts of fish for my father who continued to chuckle at my expense.  Thus began a series of unfortunate suitors including a friend’s brother, another friend’s young uncle, and when I started working a couple of years later numerous older co-workers.  Ex-man was the only one who I wanted to notice me and it took him a couple of years before he finally did. 
    I try to go back to that young girl to understand the discomfort.  If I am unfolding into my womanhood and attracting attention, why is this cause to draw back into the bud?  And is a flower only beautiful because we say it is so, or does its beauty exist regardless of having an audience?  This reminds me of the Zen koan “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it make a sound?” My koan is “If a woman is beautiful and no on is around to see her, is she still beautiful?”  This is at the core of my discomfort – the idea that at some point the attribute of beauty was externally imposed and not internally experienced.
    When do I feel most alive and beautiful?  When I am doing what I love.  When I take care of myself.  When I feel that my spirit is in line with my personality.  When I feel love for those around me.  These moments make me feel like I am a sun of burning light, not a moon of reflected light.  
    I go back to my thirteen-year-old self and let her shine, regardless of who is there to bask in her light.  Then I note an irony: I become conscious of this truth just when the lines are deepening around my eyes and mouth and society’s standards of beauty are slipping away.  Perhaps this is my time to shine.

Did some of your beauty die post breakup if you lost the "one" who voiced your beauty?  The truth is, your beauty exists with or without an audience.  What would it take for you to own your beauty? 

Hope Returns

206 Marbles
I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe.
Dalai Lama

    Today as I was mindlessly flipping through a magazine, I saw a do-it-yourself project that I kept coming back to.  It was a vintage wooden box that was used to make a decorative storage bench.  The project looked easy enough for me to do, but why would I want to?  Then it dawned on me – I could use the bottom of my broken hope chest for this project.  All I have to do is get a piece of wood cut to the right size, do a bit of sanding, cut some foam and batting to fit the lid and cover it with fabric, securing it with a staple gun.  This is easy enough for me to do. 
    First a bit of history…when Ex-man and I broke up, he was midway through the project of refinishing an old hope chest my father had originally refinished when I was young.  Traditionally, a hope chest was used by unmarried young women to gather items that they would be using for their married life - linens, china, etc.  I’m not an extreme traditionalist but I did marry young and I used the chest to carry items from my home with my parents into my home with my first husband. 
     Almost twenty years and a few relationships later, my hope chest lid split open and came off its hinges.  The irony of the timing didn’t escape me – the breakdown of the hope chest coincided with the breakdown of my relationship with Ex-man and in those final days before he moved out, I  had definitely felt a complete loss of hope. 
    For the past year, every day when I enter the garage I see the bottom portion of the chest that Ex-man stripped.  I know that he will never complete the job but I’d like the memory of my father and the symbol of hope to be functional.  I’ve considered hiring someone to complete the job but somehow having a stranger work on it doesn’t feel quite right.  I’ve taken a good look at it to see if I could complete the job but it is definitely beyond my skill set without taking woodworking classes.
      Thanks to the magazine, I now have a way to get the chest back into my home.  For me, hope is not about pipe-dreaming - it is the buoyant fuel that helps me move into the future.  It is not something that is outside of myself - it is the knowledge that I am potent creator and doer.  What makes me most excited about this refurbishing project is I’m not relying on Ex-man or anyone else to bring hope - it has always been a do-it-yourself project.

Is your metaphorical hope chest functional?  If not, what could you do to bring the buoyancy of hope into your life?  Dale Carnegie wrote, “most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.”   What would it take to remove hopeless from our vocabulary? 

Whacky Tomato Plant

207 Marbles 

    Today I have a city girl story that I’m almost embarrassed to tell.  I’ve planted my vegetable garden and taken moderate care of it (with all my spare time).  For the past month, as I pass by the small patch of sprouting greens, I’ve noticed a tomato plant that cropped up where I didn’t plant tomatoes.  I thought it odd, but who am I to argue with a bonus tomato plant that wants to grow in my garden? 
    Each day as I passed by the garden on the way to the garage I would notice how well the tomato plant was growing.  It was green and strong and growing stronger than any of the tomatoes that I had planted in the other garden.  When it reached a certain height, I started expecting the little tomato buds to appear.  Nothing.  After a while, unusual blossoms appeared, but hey, there are all types of different tomatoes, right?  Time passed and nothing came of the blooms and I thought it odd, but I’m either preoccupied or patient, take your pick. 
    When I passed by the garden today, I looked over at the tomato-less plant and got downright pissed off.  That stupid plant represented every missed harvest, false start, and disappointment I’ve had over the past few years.  I grabbed it from the base, saying angrily in my head, “You are nothing but a stupid weed!”  But when I yanked at the base of the weed and pulled it from the soil, a mound of potatoes were clinging from the roots. 
    I was shocked.  I have obviously never grown potatoes before, or planted them, so how they got there is a bit of a mystery.  Possibly from the compost? 
    I took the potatoes inside and as I was washing them in my kitchen sink, tears began to stream from my eyes.  It was just like life – sometimes when I’m expecting tomatoes, life gives me potatoes instead.  The trick is to learn to enjoy those surprise potatoes and not get fixated on the tomatoes that I don’t have.  Yes, I have a close relationship with expectation but the joy in these potatoes was that they were something that I wasn’t expecting.  I decided to make a soup from the whacky potatoes and I sat down and ate it with a smile on my face. 

William Shakespeare wrote, "Expectation is the root of all heartache."  Were you expecting this relationship to turn out differently than it did?  What if this breakup could lead to unexpected harvests? 

The Matrix

208 Marbles 

    I just watched the movie The Matrix again.  My eldest son asked me to rate the movie, as he always does, and a gave it a “10” (he said I was being to easy on it).  I told him that I loved the metaphor of the movie - it speaks to me of all that we assume to be real in life and all our limitations that we accept as truth - everything that becomes our programming or our “operating system.” 
    A matrix is defined as “something within or from which something else originates, develops, or takes form.”  Our beliefs are the matrix from which our relationships develop.  Our thoughts are what makes them take form.  I know a young co-worker who has the program “Men are jerks.” She says she doesn’t want them to be, they just are.  She calls one guy she’s sleeping with, “Dirtbag.” Whenever she says it, I think about Pollyanna’s phrase, "When you look for the bad expecting it, you will find it."   
    The first step to changing the programming is to become conscious of what the program is.  I recently needed to update my operating system on my old computer.  The techie told me to back up what I wanted to save because the rest would be lost.  This breakup has given me a chance to do the same in my real life.  I get to choose what to save and what to purge so that I can become a more functional me. 
    A breakup is like a system crash - a huge loss but not life-threatening.  The cool thing is we can take the time to choose what to create again.  We can wipe our hard drive clean before we reboot and we can create new programming.  We can see the limitations of our past life and decide to make new choices. Then we can reload.

Is it time to update your operating system?  Can you let go of that which is obsolete and no longer working?  

Fallen Princesses

209 Marbles I wish someone would have told me, that just because I'm a girl, I don't have to get married.
Marlo Thomas

The Princess kissed the frog,
He turned into a prince. 
And they lived happily ever after…
Well, let’s just say they lived sort of
Happily for a long time. 
Okay, so they weren’t so happy. 
In fact, they were miserable. 
“Stop sticking your tongue out like that,” nagged the Princess.
“How come you never want to go down to the pond anymore?” whined the Prince. 
The Prince and the Princess were so unhappy. 
They didn’t know what to do.
Jon Scieszka, “The Frog Prince Continued”

    I’d been thinking about happy endings (Marble 219) when I came across the photographer Dina Goldstein’s website “Fallen Princesses” (http://www.fallenprincesses.com/fallenprincesses.html).  She’s taken a set of ten amazing photos of the not-so-happily-ever-after.  There’s Snow White with her unemployed prince watching a polo match from the couch as her almost seven dwarfs (aka kids) hang from her hips (I think a few too many women could relate to this one).  There’s “Not-so-little Red Riding Hood” in her over-sized cape munching on a basket of fast food.  There’s a youthful, still-sleeping Beauty lounging in a senior’s home as her forlorn aged prince sits on her bed.  They’re a delightfully whimsical and satirical poke at our fascination with fairy tales. 
    When my kids were younger, one of my favorite storybooks of theirs was Jon Scieszka’s “The Frog Prince Continued.”  This story is the perfect wedding gift as it chronicles a real fairy tale and the inevitable moment when the charming characteristics of prince turn into gnawing nuisances.  The Princess rants at the Frog Prince, “First you keep me awake all night with your horrible, croaking snore.  Now I find a lily pad in your pocket.  I can’t believe I actually kissed your slimy frog lips.  Sometimes I think we would both be better off if you were still a frog.”  Huh, I’m sure a few moms, dads, and kids can relate to this bickering (minus the lily pad).  How quick the path from attraction to annoyance but the Frog Prince comes full circle and kisses his Princess and “they both turned into frogs.  And they hopped off happily ever after.” 
    The trick is that happiness is my choice, despite countless fairy tales that claim otherwise.  I can never bank on another person to  bring me my happy ending.  Whereas this breakup appears to be the opposite of a happy ending, is it really?  Maybe it is just my happy beginning.  The choice is mine…

And I don't believe in such a thing as "happily ever after". There's only happily every now and then. I find the hardest trick is to recognize the now-and-thens, and to bask in them when they come. Happiness is a choice we make, like how to wear our hair, or having coffee with breakfast and tea at night. Cindy Bonner, "The Passion of Dellie O'Barr" 

What do you choose? 

Pulling up the Anchors

210 Marbles

    My mother is unable to recognize my kids and me when we go to visit her sometimes.  At first I was very upset when this happened, but now I try to be mindful that it’s nothing personal - she is just pulling up her anchors to her life. 
    When my children were born, I noticed how it took there little spirits some time to get grounded in their senses, grounded on this earth.  It took them time to see accurately through their new eyes, to decipher the different sounds with their new ears, to get used to their taste buds, to master grasping things and moving their body around, and to associate things by their scent.  It almost felt to me that they were transitioning from pure spirit to this hybrid of body and spirit that we call being human. 
    My mother is on the other end of the spectrum.  She is transitioning from being in her body in this world into being pure spirit again.  First she lost the ability to deal with anything to do with finances.  Then she lost her agility and is now in a wheelchair or a bed.  She has lost her language skills (and for a woman who loved to talk, this speaks volumes).  Most recently, her memory is going and at times she can’t even recognize the people with whom she has strong connections to in this life. 
    When babies do their transitioning, it’s exciting to watch: There is the feeling that there is everything to gain, new skills acquired everyday, more personality to greet as the days go by.  When adults do their transitioning, it’s challenging to watch:  There’s a feeling is loss of connection to the person whom you love.  When I hit one of these pockets of loss, I go through it and try to remember that it is just the continuation of the circle that began when my mother was born.  I feel my sadness in slowly losing my mother.  I dread the day when I will really have to let her go but in the meantime I try my best to be present to her in her process of letting go.  When I start to feel that life is asking me to let go of too much this year, I reposition my lens and think of her pulling up her anchors, getting prepared for her next voyage.

What would come into your hands (and your heart) if you learned to let go more freely? 

“Family” Holiday

211 Marbles

    Not sure if it’s the wisest decision I’ve ever made, but Ex-man invited me up to the lake where we have always holidayed and I accepted.  He’ll be sleeping in his camper behind the cabing while I’m there and I’ll have a chance to get a break with the kids.  They’ll leave a few days before me and I’ll meet them up there in a few weeks. 
    I love the location -it’s a beautiful lake with no powerboats.  The cabins are not fabulous but the view from them is spectacular – weeping willows and water with an arid mountain backdrop.  Ex-man’s family stays at adjacent cabins with some of their family friends.  This tradition is something that I’ve been part of for over a decade of shared happy hours, wine tours, kayaking, jogging, and hiking expeditions. 
    Yep, I’m in that limbo stage between holding on to the past and moving into the future, completely leaving Ex-man and our shared history behind.  It’s challenging – this is a man who I grew up with, lost our “innocence” with and had children with – he represents everything I came from and sometimes I have little to no idea where I’m going.

What is the fine line between congenial relations with your X and holding on to him/her?  What would it take for you to let go and get on with your life?

The Lie My Self Told Me

212 Marbles

You just slip out the back, Jack

Make a new plan, Stan

Don’t need to be coy, Roy

Just get yourself free

Hop on the bus, Gus

You don’t need to discuss much

Just drop off the key, Lee

And get yourself free

Paul Simon “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”

    I’ve been telling a lie these 153 Marbles, well not exactly a lie but an obstruction of what I know to be true.  Okay, a lie.
   Before Ex-man "broke up with me" I had been talking with a good friend and telling her that I couldn’t see Ex-man and myself continuing the way we were going.  He was sleeping on the couch.  We had lost any real form of connection. We hadn’t been able to create the relationship we wanted with each other even after counseling and various attempts to try to interact with each other in a different way. We had reached a stalemate and there didn’t exist any answer for what else could be possible?

    I wanted out.  I went for a walk by myself and when I came home, he broke the news to me - he wanted out of the relationship.  What?  Immediately, I switched from me choosing to leave, to him being the bad guy for choosing it first.  I know, I know, this makes me an unreliable narrator but I can only be willing to admit the truth when I’m willing to admit it.  We were both on the same wavelength but I let him be the fall-guy, the one initiating the breakup.

    What is the significance of being the breakupor or the breakupee?  If a relationship is truly not working, what does it matter which person raises the white flag?  On one hand, it takes a lot of responsibility to be the one to pull the plug when the water has turned frigid in the relationship bathtub. On the other hand, the ego might stay more intact being the one initiating the breakup.  For the person on the other side of the axe coming down on a relationship, it can be challenging if the act of choosing to terminate is unilateral, in other words if you still wanted to be in the relationship and the Ex wanted out.  It can be tough on the heart and tough on the ego.  But is there any easy way of accepting that the person who you love is now choosing something else?  And does that make him/her wrong or your relationship a failure?

Have you put too much significance on who initiated the breakup?  Can you let go of the attachment of being the one who left or the one who was left?       

Refugee Status

213 Marbles 

The problem in defense is how far you can go without destroying from within what you are trying to defend from without.

Dwight D. Eisenhower

    Chris Cleave’s Little Bee is about a Nigerian refugee’s experiences in England.  Because of Little Bee’s harrowing experiences in her village where her family was killed, every time she went into a new room, a new place or a new situation she would think in her mind how she would kill herself “if the men came”.  If she went into a bathroom, she would think – “I’ll break the mirror and slash my wrists with the shards of glass”.  If she went into a room with a chain hanging from the sunroof, she’d think – “I’ll hang myself with the chain.”
    At first it seemed a bit morbid and unrelated to my life.  I’m not a refugee fleeing from anything nor have I had harrowing experiences in my childhood.  But she wouldn’t leave my mind and I started noticing my own way of coping that mirrored her methods.  I noticed that sometimes when I don’t feel safe in a situation, in my mind I will carry on as defense lawyer against whatever person or group of people I think is against me.  If, for example, my work schedule changes, I’ll take a defensive position in my mind and try to argue my position (my years of service, strong work ethic, punctuality, and overall model employee status).  It’s not that my points are wrong, it’s just that my position immediately becomes defensive. 
    I know that this is a coping mechanism, but it is a strategy that I no longer need.  I’m attempting to be very conscious when my mind goes into this mode and I have my internal court case with the world acting as prosecutor and me acting as defense lawyer in a case that doesn’t really exist.  I try to remind myself, “Hey, nobody’s against you,” and suddenly things lighten up.  I remember that I don’t need to take refuge because there really is no struggle except when my thinking makes it so.

If any of this rings a bell, what would it take for you to not feel like you need to defend yourself?  What would it take for you to be more okay with who you are?  
Mel Brooks said, "Humor is just another defense against the universe."  What would it take for you to use more humor when you feel your defense lawyer surfacing?

Caught Between a Rock and my Hard Place

214 Marbles
I supposed if I’d stopped to think about it, I would have realized that Andrew was too like me – that we were as stubborn as each other; that our admiration would inevitably become attrition.  The only reason that we were married in such haste was that my mother begged me not to marry Andrew at all.  “One of you in a marriage has to be soft,” she said. “That’s not going to be you, dear, so it might as well be the man.”
Chris Cleave, “Little Bee”

    I’m reading the novel Little Bee and I came upon the above passage which made me think of my relationship with Ex-man.  I’m not a push-over and I’m not incredibly stubborn, yet with Ex-man (who does not budge), my hard place came out. 
    I don’t know why this was – maybe I felt that if I gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.  Perhaps it was more that if I gave in to his viewpoint I would inevitably lose myself.  I haven’t felt this way in every relationship that I’ve been in – it was just a peculiar dynamic of our relationship.  It felt like a tug-of-war where every inch of real estate that was lost represented a relinquishment of power. 
     I’d like to have a relationship in the future that has more freedom of movement. By looking back, I know what I don’t want.  Now it’s about looking forward and stepping into the life that I do want.

Johann Kaspar Lavater wrote, “Stubbornness is the strength of the weak.”   When you feel caught between a rock and your hard place, can you stop and ask yourself, “What am I trying to hold onto?”  “What do I think I will lose if I let go of the tug-of-war rope?”  “Is the rope an illusion?”  “Can I ever lose my power?”

Broken Key

215 Marbles

    My son was on his way out the back door when he broke the key in the lock.  I tried to retrieve the broken key with needle-nose pliers, tweezers, and a bobby pin.  No luck.  When I called the locksmith, I found that retrieving the broken key would be at least $70.  I said, “Thanks, but no thanks” and promptly hung up. 
     Think.  Think…
    Youtube.  Ask any question and you will find an answer (A girl barely needs to leave home these days).  I found numerous tutorials on how to solve my particular problem using an obscure device called a key extractor.  I called around to see if I could find such a device, and again, no luck. 
    Then I started unscrewing the lock on the off chance that there would be a way to push the key out from the inside.  As I worked on the second long screw, the whole lock fell apart, the other side falling outside the locked door.  Hmmm, a bit of a pickle. 
    I called Ex-man to see if he could help out but he was still working and sounded pretty stressed out himself.  This was a job I’d have to tackle on my own.  A final call to a local hardware store asking for the elusive key extractor led me to Ed who asked what type of lock it was.  I looked on the pieces of lock and found nothing then I asked my son to run outside and see if the other side of the lock had anything written on it.  It did “Weiser”.  He told me to bring it in and he’d see if he could help out. 
    On the way to the store, we crossed our fingers and sure enough, Ed was a champion.  Coincidentally, Ex-man was at the same hardware store picking up soil for the job he was working on.  When I got back to my car, I noticed  that his truck was completely blocking me from getting out.  I tried to manoeuvre around it but it was impossible.  I sat and waited and finally I sent my son inside to ask his Dad to move his truck.  As I sat there, I thought to myself, “Why would I be surprised?  He wasn’t considerate when we were together.  How would I expect him to be when we’re apart?  As Maya Angelou says, “When people tell you who they are, believe them.”  Don’t be surprised when they show you over and over and over. 
    When Ex-man got back to his car, I explained to him that I had left the house with the door lock completely dismantled and I needed to get home.  His car was blocking me (of all the cars in the parking lot, he chose to block mine?)  He didn't apologize or seem to care - when someone shows you who they are, believe them.  I should stop banging my head against the same wall, over and over and over. 
    When I got home, my son and I reassembled the lock and got it working again.  High fives all around. What were my lessons? Number one -  I’m resourceful and not alone (even when I feel slightly ill-equipped to handle a problem). Number two – people change but never expect people to change (especially Ex-man).  Number three - Today I’m thankful that I'm not in a relationship with Ex-man anymore.  They don’t call it a Weiser lock for nothing. 

You have what it takes to handle anything life throws at you - from little inconveniences like a broken key, to big inconveniences like a broken heart.  Could you ask for help when you've tapped your own resources?  (There are always hardware store angels equipped to step in - Marble 324 & today - and they really like to receive a gift of beer as thanks.) 

 

Flesh Hunger, Again?

216 Marbles
Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.
Jim Morrison

    I saw a tattoo underneath the shirt of a co-worker and realized that after 155 marbles (just under five months without sex), I’m feeling a little flesh hungry, again.  It’s not like I flirt shamelessly or prowl the bars like a cougar.  I just miss having a sensual connection with another human. 
    I recently went to my massage therapist who commented on how stiff my shoulders were – she said she had never felt me so tight and wound up.  “Do you think it’s because I’m not having sex?” I asked her. “I’m not sure,” she answered hesitantly.  I’ll tell you my blunt answer – I’m pretty sure that a good lay would loosen my shoulders better than any massage.  Woody Allen said, “Having sex is like playing bridge.  If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.”  Since I don’t have a partner, I’m working on my “hand” but there are certain itches that a shower massage just can’t satisfy.  I miss the intimacy of flesh on flesh. 
    My friend asked me today, “So, the marbles are so you don’t get involved.  What about sex?” “Good question,” I answered (I was beginning to like the way she was thinking), “But involvement and sex have always been entwined for me and that, my friend, is the rub.”
    There’s only a handful of people I’m attracted to at the moment and frightfully Ex-man is not completely off the list.  Needless to say none of the candidates are acceptable, each for their own unique reasons: There’s a guy with a partner (I would never cross that line – whoever is meant for me will come to me unencumbered); there’s Ex-man (the sex may be good but the repercussions too confusing, and really? Isn’t it just time to let go?); and the other two are both too young (and one is a woman, complicating things considerably). 
    Perhaps I’m slightly worried that at my age I’ll never have a steamy affair again.  Too many visits with my mom at the  senior’s home make me realize that all of life is fleeting.  W.C. Fields once said, “Some things are better than sex, and some are worse, but there’s nothing exactly like it.” On this particular marble, I can’t quite think of what is better than sex (I must be ovulating -thanks, hormones).

What would it take for you to enjoy this trek into the sexual desert of marbles?  Could you learn to be more sensual with yourself? If you took away the fear that you would never have another (meaningful) sexual connection with another human, would this time be more enjoyable?  Could you just resign yourself to the fact that hormones will play this trick on you every twenty eight marbles or so?