MY QUEST FOR COURAGE

Just when I began to feel that I could sleep again; that, perhaps, the world wouldn't end sometime next week; and, that someone...anyone, would finally shout "NO" to Donald Trump (and mean it), my hopes and dreams were crushed because I discovered that Courage has been banned in Washington, DC.

Yes, I believe Courage has been outlawed. Probably erased from the dictionary and ripped from the Thesaurus. And, most alarming of all, I fear it is missing from the souls of all 100 U.S. Senators and 435 Representatives. Missing. Gone. Disappeared. And just when we are in the midst of accepting or rejecting Cabinet Nominees. The very people who will have the greatest effect on our day to day lives and those of our children and grandchildren as they grow older.

Now, I would be the first to say that I, myself, am not very Courageous. It is easy for me to simply remain silent when someone makes a statement I disagree with or don't believe is true. It's easy for me to remain silent during an entire discussion because I want people to like me, and people will like me if I remain quiet and let them assume I'm in agreement with them. Every single one of them.

But all of that carefully crafted non-courageous  passivity kicked me smack in the face a few weeks ago. I attended a gathering of friends...I assumed. But, the friends weren't really friends and, I discovered, neither was I. We weren't each other's people. I had tried to be their people, but I wasn't their people. Actually, not even close. I hadn't been true to them and I hadn't been true to me. But, my feelings were hurt, and I felt lost. I whined a little to my coach, told him my story, and waited for him to pat me on the head. But he didn't. Not even close. I think that's how coaches are supposed to be.

He assigned me a project. It's called inquiry, and it means I had to begin digging into this whole years-long situation. Digging deep with excruciating honesty dripping from every pore. And I did. I started slowly, but gained a bit of strength and speed as my thoughts grew and matured. And, the end result? I realized how I honestly believed and felt and I suddenly was empowered. Really! Frankly, if you want to meet someone who has spent most of her rather long life terrified to disagree or question, or wander from the norm of the moment, it would be me. Yes, me. I found courage this past Friday and it felt good. It felt really good. I was energized all day yesterday, and I'm still doing pretty darned well this afternoon.

My discovery wasn't  Big Courage--Not the kind I'm hoping our Senators will exhibit as each Cabinet Nominee's name comes before the full Senate. But, for me, it was just as scary. The stakes were high and the quality of my life was in question. But today? Today, I could conquer the world. But I don't really need to do that. Today, I just need to be true to myself and everyone I'm around. Today, I will hope that someone else discovers that bit of courage. That empowerment that proves it's OK to disagree. The empowerment that demonstrates this is who I am. This is what I believe. This is what I must do to be true to us all. That, my friends, is so much better in the long run. Amen.

"COURAGE IS A KIND OF SALVATION"
Plato  

WATCHING...AFTER ALL

On Friday morning, January 20th, 2017, I decided that I would not watch the Inauguration. My mental health has been a little shaky since November 8th, and I had some concerns that Donald Trump's hand on two bibles (one of which had belonged to Abraham Lincoln) might be just enough to pull me right over the edge. I was a little afraid to risk it.

As consolation, I planned to listen to the Inauguration on NPR. You see, I have never missed watching an Inauguration--either as grainy newsreel footage on TV or more recently, actual live minute by minute coverage. And that statement dates back to 1957...Dwight Eisenhower's Second Inauguration. I was twelve years old.

As Americans, I believe we have a very real responsibility to pay attention to all governmental activities that might take place on any given day. So, I tuned into KJZZ, our local NPR affiliate at exactly 10:00 a.m. our time. That, in itself was a break in tradition, because I always start an Inauguration at the very beginning. The oath would be administered at 10:00 a.m., our time, and I felt strong enough to handle that, but I would turn it off as soon as Donald Trump returned to his seat.

Listening rather than watching really isn't too bad. I was surprised, actually, at the fullness of the experience. This time, Chief Justice Roberts administered the oath perfectly (in contrast to 2008--his first time--when he muffed his lines so badly, he and President Obama repeated it at the White House the next day.) Despite my intentions, when President Trump began his Inaugural Address, and as he continued to speak, I knew I needed a 55 inch screen to be sure I was hearing exactly what he was saying. I wondered if he'd picked up one of his old campaign speeches as he rushed out the door of Blair House that morning? But, no. He was saying exactly what he intended to say. He was reading intently from his teleprompters. He was earnest. He was real.

In only 17 minutes and 17 seconds, President Trump had created the picture of a bleak and despairing America. Not only were the inner cities "trapped in poverty," but wealth had been "ripped from the middle class" only to be "redistributed across the entire world."  We had "made other countries rich while the wealth, strength, and confidence of our country had disappeared over the horizon."  We had "subsidized the armies of other countries," "depleted our military," "spent trillions overseas... while America's infrastructure had fallen into disrepair and decay."

And then he announced: "From this day forward, it's going to be America First*." And, yes, "First" was capitalized in the transcript of his speech. Sometimes, a presidential candidate really should read an American history primer before jumping into the ring.

I believe we're all rooting for America. It's our home and our heritage and, at its best, it's the greatest country in the world, but the tone (at this point in the speech) began to harden: "protect our borders from the ravages of other countries making our products, stealing our companies and destroying our jobs...unite the civilized world against...at the bedrock of our politics will be a total allegiance to the United States of America..."

Then, "...most importantly, we are protected by God." I'm actually OK with being protected, and I like to feel protected. But I do not want to be so bold as to suggest that God protects the United States just a little bit more than other countries because we are a favored nation. I'd rather believe that God is watching over all of our world, our solar system and the universe--continually hoping and praying that we learn to live with one another in peace and harmony. We are not alone on this beautiful blue ball we call the earth. There are 7.5 billion of us breathing the same air, drinking the same water, and harvesting the same foods. I believe God's love and protection is given to all, we just have to reach out and accept it.

Actually, as I began to examine the transcript of his speech this afternoon, some of it could have been uplifting. A sentence here and there: "We must think big and dream even bigger...When America is united, America is...unstoppable..." And there are more. But, sadly, not enough. Both tenor and tone denote anger, hatred, fear and distrust. Long time themes of Donald Trump. None of which gives me much hope. SAD.

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*America First: The"America First" Committee was founded in 1940 by prominent Americans, many of whom, years later, served in government. Those associated with America First were opponents of the United States entering World War II. America First was seen as an anti-Semitic group. Charles Lindbergh may be the person most closely associated with the Committee. He "expressed sympathy for the persecution Jews faced in Germany but suggested that they were advocating for the United States to enter a war that was not in our own national interest." In a speech dated September 11, 1941, he threatened that Jews would be the first to suffer the consequences of the U.S. going into war. "Tolerance," he said "could not survive war and devastation." Lindbergh also noted that the Jews had too much influence because of their significant ownership of the motion picture industry, the press and their presence in the government. Three months later, our ships were hit at Pearl Harbor and, within days, the America First Committee disbanded. Pat Buchanan briefly revived  "America First" during his abbreviated run for President in 2000.

HELLO GOD...

"Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret." Really...it's Margaret.  I know I call myself Margie now, but you might remember me as Margaret. Margaret Elizabeth Catherine. Yes, the Dodge City girl. The Dodge City Sacred Heart Cathedral Grade School Margaret.

For those of you who may not be of the Catholic faith, let me explain that extra name tacked on behind Margaret Elizabeth. Good Catholic children choose an additional name when they are confirmed in the Catholic Church. In my era, we were in the Fourth Grade when we were confirmed. The name we chose must be a Saint's name. In my school, a Very Saintly Saint's name. I chose Catherine, partly because my Mother was named Catherine and partly because I was rather taken with St. Catherine of Sienna. I always connected her with St. Francis, a person full of goodness, but in reality she lived a century later than he. They are, however, Co-Patron Saints of Italy. Practically speaking, Confirmation is a means of having one more Saint in your arsenal to call on in times of trouble, because you can never have too many saints. Especially now.

I've been writing in a Gratitude Journal for fourteen months now. It's a good exercise during my early morning quiet time. I've loved my Gratitude Journal, and I'm more than a bit pleased that I've stayed with it this long. But, lately, I've been running into a Gratitude Drought.

It was still dark on the morning of January 7th, 2017, when I settled myself into my  early-morning soft and cozy chair. I had read my Personal Development chapter, read and absorbed my "Daily Word" message, and it was time to record a bit of gratitude:

"Dear Lord," I wrote. "Today it is hard for me to muster up heartfelt sincere gratitude. I know I owe you more gratitude than I have room for in this little book, but I can't seem to find it because of my worries about Donald Trump..."

On January 10: "Dear Lord, I should probably be reading Pam Grout's new book right now and learning how to live gratefully, because I am not waking up with gratitude in my heart...just worry. And, this is a year in which love and gratitude will be sorely needed. I don't feel charged with leading the way, but I do feel I need to find some positive among all the negative. That will be a worthy search. Thank you for the idea..."

On January 13: "I think, Dear Lord, that I might have been drinking decaf coffee yesterday morning and that was the reason everything was so blah and discouraging. Today, I double-checked, and I have caffeine. I feel much better. I hate to sound like a broken record, but I hope you understand that it is very hard for me to deal with Donald Trump being in charge of this country. Please, St. Margaret, St. Elizabeth, St. Catherine and you too, God, please try to override the worst of his instincts, and help me as I search for my Highest and Best Self. Amen."

P.S. Sooner might be better than later. Thank you..

EXTREME SELF CARE

It was recently suggested that I look into (or examine) the concept of Extreme Self Care.  Actually, the first assignment called for me to exercise Extreme Self Care on a daily basis.  Although I had good intentions, the entire concept of Self Care was an uncomfortable one for me, so I kind of, sort of, just let it go.

Since I didn't perform that assignment, it was reassigned two weeks later.  And, finally, reassigned two weeks after that.  But, because of my shirking, that third assignment became a strong suggestion to examine why the thought of Extreme Self Care was so distasteful to me.  My coach calls this "Baby Stepping." Since I didn't manage the assignment either the first or second time, it was obviously a problematic one for me, and I needed to find out why. Only then could I begin the actual process of Self Care...or Wanton Hedonism, as I was imagining it.

In two days, it will be six weeks since the original assignment and, only this morning did I finally approach Extreme Self Care.  Up until now, I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole...but, time is flying and I need a solution. Perhaps, more than a solution, I need a scapegoat, and the perfect one has just come to mind.  Twelve years of Catholic School under a small community of St. Joseph sisters.  The real ones who wore full black flowing habits, which included a veiled, tightly fitted headdress.  When I think about it...not unlike today's controversial burkas.

I don't want to get carried away, but it is important to note that I was and, in many ways, still am a "Capital 'C' Catholic" versus an ordinary "small 'c' catholic."  That means I absorbed every word of every sentence those well-meaning women uttered.  Pulled them into my very being until they became part of me.  I'm sure, today, they show up in my DNA.

And, so, being a Good Catholic Girl, I learned that my wishes, desires, wants and needs were less important than those of the people around me. It was my duty to assure that their lives were running well and, it was probably my fault if they weren't. If I performed those duties with a genuine smile and a joyous tone, I would be blessed.  If I was a grouchy facilitator, it was all for nought. No blessings for me.  More likely, condemnation was near, because anything less was selfishness, and selfishness was a shortcoming and a shortcoming could lead to a sin, and we all know where that takes us. So I tried. For years, I tried.  I still do from time to time. It's not for nothing that I'm known as the person who never selects the dining spot.

And now, I'm 72 years old. I still can't help but look at Self-Care (not to mention Extreme Self-Care) as basically wrong. At worst, sinful. My joy (such as it is) must come from serving others. It will not come from plopping myself down for an hour with a good book.  I am not a "Good Person" if I am not making sure that everyone else is happy and fulfilled and free to choose where we all have lunch. It's just what I do.

THE BUCKET LIST

I sat down at my cluttered desk this afternoon with the intention of sharing a few thoughts on "Bucket Lists."  I've heard of Bucket Lists for years, but I've never considered one for myself.  For the past few months, BC has been driving and flying to fishing locations he never dreamed existed...and having a wonderful time in the process.  He's marking items off his Bucket List.  As I was telling his story last week to my coach, Jay asked if I had a Bucket List.  "No," I had to answer. I'd encouraged BC with his, but, no, I'd never followed suit.  "What," continued Jay, "would you include on your Bucket List?" and I was struck dumb. I couldn't think of a thing. Not one thing.  So, I thought I'd better mention family in one way or another, so I didn't seem totally self-centered. I mentioned a family get-together, or the possibility of a summer home closer to the Midwest. But, no.  Bucket lists aren't about family, per my coach. A bucket list is about me. Me, me, me. Which, despite my original hesitation, isn't all bad once you get used to it.

For the past few days, I've spent time now and then thinking about the bucket list. My bucket list. And, I've had no luck.  How weird is that?  Personally, I think it's because we women have spent so darned much time facilitating everyone else's wants, needs and bucket lists, we lose the ability to think thoughts for ourselves. (I do believe that was more prevalent in our generation than the current one, but that insight doesn't help me take ownership of the mindset that, in turn, could  spew out a bucket list.)

So, it has been eight days since the subject was raised, and I still have no bucket list.  On Tuesday, it occurred to me that I should Google "Bucket List" but, really, how pathetic is that?  It's my bucket list, filled with my hopes and dreams and long-held desires. It seems wrong to Google someone else's list for ideas.  It does smack of stealing, or maybe just borrowing, but, really, who wants to live someone else's bucket list?  

Nonetheless, this morning (it's Friday, now), I caved and quietly Googled "Bucket List," slightly embarrassed, a little ashamed, and not really expecting positive results.  Ha! Much to my surprise, Google handed me hundreds of sites for "Bucket Lists."  Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but there are a lot of "Bucket List" choices. Apparently, I am not alone in my lack of imagination and daring. Surprisingly, the Number One Bucket List Wish--per a few sites--was: "Seeing the Northern Lights". I know.  I think it's kind of anti-climactic.  Not what I was expecting at all.  Whereas, I believe it would be wonderful to see them, it does mean hiking to the northern reaches of Canada, finding a comfortable hotel with windows facing north and then...waiting. Perhaps for days or weeks. And, most likely, in the dead of winter when the Lights are more easily seen.

And, therein, lies the rub, as my mother was fond of quoting.  One should not wait until her eighth decade to begin a bucket list because, at that age, one really doesn't have time to wait for anything, much less the Northern Lights. We elders have to act, and we have to act now. Our bucket list must be written in the present.

You should know that, at this point, I had planned to rant about Most Popular Bucket List Wishes #2, 3, 4, and 5, which were--Get a Tattoo, Skydive, Swim with Dolphins, and Scuba Dive but, on my way to the rant I ran across a sweet website titled: fullylived.com, that has restored my faith in Bucket Lists.  Divided into a number of categories, Fully Lived has created hundreds of Bucket List wishes that fit my needs so much more than a tattoo. I am totally re-energized.

I do love travel, so I homed in on:  "Go for a Walk in Central Park," "Hike in Ireland," "Hike the Appalachian Trail," "Eat a croissant in a Paris cafe."  I love those! Under the Personal Development heading I decided to add "Be Myself," and "Buy a Stranger's Groceries."  I did skip the Fitness part and the Adventure suggestions, but I paused at the Business and Career section long enough to circle all ideas related to writing.  Under education, I added "Finish an Online Course."  I have two that are in limbo, so I'll attack them tomorrow.  I believe there were 1,000 Bucket List Wishes in total, but I'm happy with the few I have at the moment and, now that I know where to find more, I'll finish my list.

So, yes...of course I have a Bucket List, thank-you very much--and I intend to begin marking off items this afternoon.

CONTINUOUS TREATS

My calendar is opened to June but, quite literally as well as emotionally, it has already been a long, hot summer. Our temperature topped out at 120 degrees day before yesterday and, no matter how dry the air, 120 degrees is intolerable within a very short period of time.  In addition, the vagaries of the current political campaign, as well as the horrors produced by misguided fanatics with instant access to guns, continue to dominate our news.  I ignore the newspapers and turn off the television, but there is still no place to run nor hide.

This morning, in an effort to find a little positivity in my day, I began searching the internet for something--anything--that might bring relief to this dark state of affairs.  As is my wont, I began a search of quotes under the general heading of "joy,"  but quickly realized that joy was too boisterous for the subject at hand.  I moved down a notch to "happiness." "Happiness" seemed more appropriate and offered the possibility of success.  And this effort, in a nutshell, is how Iris Murdoch came into my life. I had always heard of Murdoch, but was surprised to realize I'd never read any of her writings.

Among the list of quotes on "goodreads.com" was this: "One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats...and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured, so much the better."  This gem was credited to one of Murdoch's later novels, "The Sea, The Sea."

I must admit that I'm a fan of continuous small treats.  For example, I am, at this exact moment while the outside temp is pegged at 109 degrees, happily sipping an exceptionally good cup of hot chocolate, topped with a perfect, sticky marshmallow which is slowly contributing just the right amount of sugary sweetness to this tasty concoction.  For thirty minutes now it has been a continuous small treat.

Whereas, continuous treats, for some, may begin and end with food, I decided to extend the concept to my next favorite thing--reading.  I do love to read but, for some reason I still don't understand, plopping down to read makes me feel guilty. I'm constantly fighting the thought that I should be up and doing something productive. Productive, I say!  For example...dusting the shelves (even the highest ones); vacuuming the floor; organizing the desk drawers; cleaning the produce drawers of the refrigerator.  Ugh.  So...whenever I schedule and complete one of these little productivity spurts, I find a soft seat, put my feet up and read for that exact same length of time. I don't know if that's really a continuous treat, or simply a way to salve my conscience but, quirky as it may be, I'm sticking with it.

Speaking of treats, not continuous this time, I got a nice little e-mail from Amazon yesterday telling me they had credited my account for $28.64 as a settlement in the lawsuit against Apple, dating back to Apple's entry into the e-book business when prices jumped up overnight.  I love Apple, but I'm still ticked with them about their part in destroying the $9.99 best-sellers.  The $28.64 helps.

So, please join me in the quest for inexpensive continuous treats.  I have a feeling they exist everywhere, we're just not looking hard enough.  I know I missed one a few hours ago--a rare cool early morning on our patio.  I won't be so careless again.
    

NOT DONE YET...

This morning's question of the day was:  Which, of all the places you've been, would you visit again? For most of my lifetime I would have answered without much thought, "All of them." But, since I'm now of a "certain age," I believe that I should project a degree of decorum, so I'm working on measured and thoughtful answers. Hmm, favorite places...

For starters, I must include Colorado in a "Favorites" list.  Now, that would be Colorado straight north and south of  Denver and then west.  I'm pretty picky about Colorado, because its eastern half looks very much like the area of southwest Kansas where I was born, raised and lived nearly forever...and that scenery is just one step up from desert. I think I love the Colorado mountains because when I was very young, our family began spending a week in Evergreen every summer.  We stayed at Davidson's Lodge which consisted of five or six cabins facing onto Bear Creek.  It was heaven, and I knew I belonged there but, sadly, at the end of our cool, green week we loaded our un-air-conditioned car for the long drive home. The road from Denver up into Evergreen was always much more exciting than the exact same road leading out of Evergreen down onto the flatland.

I would take a Mediterranean cruise again...in a heartbeat.  I might even visit every place we stopped the first time.  I would spend extra days in Venice and take a full day tour of Ephesus instead of just half a day.  I'd want to go back to the little village near Ephesus, high on the hill, where St. John took Mary, Jesus' mother, to live after the crucifixion.  Raised as a good Catholic Girl means you never get enough of Mary. Legend or Fact...the stories are charming.  Oh--Pompeii.  Definitely another tour of Pompeii.  And, just one more glass of chilled white wine on the sweet, sandy beach of Mykonos.  I'd spend more time in the Pantheon and not skip the Coliseum.  And, this time I'd visit the catacombs. What were we thinking when we missed them the first time?

I still haven't walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, nor spent nearly enough time in Central Park.  I'd walk the Highline again, but detour over to the Whitney.  And, then, back to Times Square where I'd twirl like Mary Tyler Moore in Minneapolis, throw my hat in the air and dissolve into the lights and colors and honking horns of New York City.

The United Kingdom?  Every square inch.  I'd put on my hiking shoes and never take them off.

Vermont.  Ah...Vermont.  I grew up pretending I lived in Vermont...and that's hard to pull off in western Kansas. I don't know how, when or why the essence of Vermont captured me, but it did.  It took nearly sixty years before I finally visited Vermont, when we rented a tiny cottage among the trees above Lake Champlain. Our little love nest, as it had been advertised, should have been condemned long before our arrival. But, redemption was at hand every evening when we sat on the rickety front porch and watched the sun, in all its glory, dip behind the Adirondacks across the lake in New York.  One sees the edges of heaven from that porch.

Are there more?  Probably. But these are the special ones.  The magical ones that deserve including when we look ahead and begin to construct our Five- and Ten-Year Plans. I recently read that we all need Five and Ten Year Plans. Actually, the author suggested adding a Twenty-Year Plan, even at our age. So, planning was the subject matter of this post when I began, but it quickly took off on its own. If that was a "Wink from the Universe," I'll take it.  I'd love to have more travel in our lives.