QUESTIONS THAT BEGIN WITH WHY

I started this blog a little over a year ago with the intent of practicing putting myself out there, to the unknown masses, with my writing, and I have done that.  Hurray for me, so excited, but here I am not sure what to write and having one of those days where, even though I've written almost 2000 words this morning and feel I'm in the meat of the short story I'm working on, I feel lost or maybe just unsure of what the hell I'm doing, once again.

I have these moments, where nothing seems to make sense and my mind banters me with questions, deep life-changing questions, like why am I here, and why am I compelled to write, and why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me, and why do I have the tendency to isolate and why, why, why?  It goes on, and, of course, I do know the answers to some of these questions, but having the answer doesn't always solve the problem of asking the question numerous times.  My brain exercises a glitch of repetition, wishing for a different answer then the one it received, so it questions again and again in case the true-right answer pushes up from the definite daisies it has being hiding under.

Why am I here?  Here, I'm guessing, means alive on this planet we call earth.  My answer:  I don't know, won't know, don't need to figure it out.

Why am I compelled to write?  My answer for this one is milky and more like the tip-of-the-tongue-phenomenon, where it's right there, but I can't touch it no matter how much I reach for it.  Again, I don't know, not really, but I do know how I feel when I do write and after I'm done.  I feel whole like I found the puzzle piece I needed for the moment, clicked it into place, and it fit.

Why do I feel uncomfortable letting people get to know me?  Easy.  Fear of being hurt.  That's what it comes down to though I don't necessarily enjoy saying that out loud because it would be cooler to say something other than that or to just not have the issue in the first place and be social and open with everyone who crosses my path.  I can say that I've made huge strides of growth with this and don't go straight to "What the @#*& do you want?" when someone says hello.  I used to.

I remember my husband and I moving into a new house, several years ago, and a neighbor across the street came over to welcome us, and my mind went literally to what I just quoted, and I know I had a scrunched-mean look on my face.  Gratefully, my husband doesn't live by the same emotional-means I do and said hi and was friendly, thank goodness.  Now, my defenses are subtler and not always easy for me to recognize when I'm hiding behind them, but I keep my hand out there, keep chatting and listening, and keep writing.

Why do I have the tendency to isolate?  This one rides on the coattails of the one above, so I counter balance it by leaving the house and trying new things.

And the other whys, well, they are just too numerous and once I move through the ones already mentioned, I find I don't need to answer the others because they're irrelevant for the day.

The main question I need to answer today is "Am I experiencing today in its entirety?" because if I am, then none of the other questions matter.  If I am experiencing today in its entirety, then I'm not trying to figure out why I'm here because the simple fact of being here is enough.  Why I'm compelled to write doesn't need to be dissected any longer, it just is.  Why I feel uncomfortable letting people in and tend to isolate becomes mute because if I'm experiencing my day in its entirety, then I'm not hiding, I'm living and feeling and laughing and talking and so on.

At the end of it all, after the feeling of what-the-hell-am-I-doing passes, I find I'm okay, and life is simple.  If I show up on this journey called life, I'll be wherever I need to be when I need to be there and will know whatever it is I need to know at the time of needing to know it, and, in the meantime, I get to enjoy where I'm at and the possibilities that come with change and challenge, as long as I cultivate an open-mind to what could be while I keep moving forward.

THE BEARTOOTH HIGHWAY: A JOURNEY OF A LIFE TIME

Two summers ago I had the opportunity to ride my Suzuki SV650 motorcycle, Mazzy for short, from Missoula, Montana down through West Yellowstone and back up and over the Beartooth Highway, which splits between Montana and Wyoming.  What a fabulous ride.  I thought of it this morning, when I was listening to The Black Keys on my way to yoga.

I had just picked up The Black Keys' Brothers album the day before our Beartooth trip.  It became apparent the grooves and blues melded quite well with the road and my tires.  And once in West Yellowstone, where the speed limit dropped to a crawl, at least for a girl on a sport bike, the music's rhythm eased the drag of such a leisurely pace.  Don't get me wrong, slow is good for some-

Climbing up the Beartooth Highway

things, but 55 mph on a sport bike is torture; I could walk faster.

Once we sidled into Cook City, filled up our gas tanks, edged out of town, and chose the directive sign toward Beartooth Pass, the rock of blues and warm asphalt jived with unbelievable synchronization, and the real journey began.  At first, the scenery was as anything else I had seen and smelled, living in Western Montana most of my life, fresh mountain air, Pine trees, wild flowers, the basic loss of all civilization, but it took on a state of something grander, majestic.  The convenience of city life is enjoyable but to step outside of that and be set in the middle of a wild, mountain range is awe inspiring, and my intuitive self that connects with the spiritual came to life, and I forever have been altered by the experience.

The Beartooth Highway, toward the top

Elevation increased at an alarming rate, higher and higher, and everything changed, the air, the trees, the foliage, and then there was snow, and the fresh mountain air was crisp like a winter kiss on the brow.  The Beartooth Highway  soars to 10,947 feet, and the views from such a height are mind-blowing and heart stopping, views so out-of-this-world that words fall short of ever describing them in their entirety.  They must be experienced, seen, felt, smelled, touched, and if I hadn't had to get to camp before dark, kneeling down and tasting the earth would have been worth it too.

The challenge of motorcycle riding and such magnificent country is keeping my eyes on the road.  I constantly had to adjust my eyesight to not target fixate and fly off the mountain with the birds.  My husband, the year before this, with a friend, stopped on top and camped under a tarp tied to his bike in a make-shift lean-to and slept under the stars.  They were frosty and chilled by early morning, but he said the morning was vibrant and stunning, not something to be missed.  Next time I will do this too, camp on top in a wildflower meadow and enjoy such closeness with the vastness of what is and what can be.  Motorcycle riding and the adventure of being on the road and getting to places I've never been before, especially curvy mountain roads, is like sitting with God and having a cup of joe.

The Beartooth Highway is riddled with tight, smooth corners, a sport biker's dream, though one wrong input or a corner taken too fast would put even the best rider off the road and into the air.  Whether slow speeds or not, the highway is spellbinding and invigorating to a motorcyclist's soul.

I haven't had the chance to get back there since, life has a way of happening and diverting my intentions, but it is in the back of my mind, a special place in need of visiting, experiencing again, and I know I will get there, ride up that twisty, windy road, feel that crisp winter, summer air caress my cheek, and sleep under multitudinous stars, so many I couldn't fathom there not being something beyond me and my small world.



If you're interested in learning more about the Beartooth Highway, check out http://beartoothhighway.com/.

Staying Sane Through the Summer

My goal for the summer is to have fun with my boys and let them experience summer in all its glory but mostly I just want to stay sane.  I want to keep on laughing and stay relaxed and not be counting down the days until it's over.  I don't want to hate summer, and I don't wish for my boys to hate me 10 days into it all.

If sanity is my goal, how am I going to accomplish it?

MAKE A LIST OF THINGS TO DO

First, I sat down, when my children were tucked into bed and sound asleep, and made a list of possible activities or ideas for the summer, things we can do.  I probably came up with 20 to 25 items, ranging from taking walks to going to the movies or swimming at the pool to traveling to a nearby town to see a museum.  I keep this list close to my special chair, where I keep the latest book I'm reading and my laptop, a place where I frequent.  By keeping it there, I can check it periodically to refresh my brain for those times, which are inevitable, when it is no longer working, and I don't know what to do with my children.  It's already come in handy.

TAKE ONE THING AT A TIME

In the morning, before I jump into the day with my boys at my side, I remind myself I'm not doing the whole summer right now.  I'm only doing today and even then if I need to break the day up into sections, I can do that.  I don't know how other parents are with their children, maybe there are those of you out there that just can't wait to spend 24/7 with your children, always with a broad smile on your face, but I'm not one of those.

Instinctually, I settle into a book and read or write and listen to music or go for quiet walks with my dog or drink coffee with a friend, which tells me I'm very much a loner to a certain degree on this thing called life and would much rather take care of my needs instead of anyone else's.  But being with my boys requires me to be outside my comfort zone and to stop thinking and reading and writing and just be, here in the now where they want to play tag and soccer and laugh at who farted and burped and "Hey Mom, look at the beetle I found" and the constant interchange of who did what and why it's not fair and so on.  I have to remember to not be so serious about it all and that it's okay to laugh with them and look at the beetle that creeps me out and say "Wow, that's a cool beetle."

KEEP IN CONTACT WITH OTHER ADULTS

But I also have to be realistic in knowing my limitations and even though I'm outside my comfort zone, and I'm doing all this fun stuff with my kids, and it's fabulous in trying to be a Great Mom, I do need to interact with other adults.  I need to remember there's a whole other world out there, where linear conversations exist for longer than three seconds, and I'm not the boss, telling others to close their mouth when eating or to cover their mouths if they need to burp or stop hitting their brother.  A world where the responsibility of keeping an eye or having an answer or knowing what we're going to do next is not solely mine.  Plus, I need those other adults and parents to help me laugh at what my children are doing or to remind me I'm not alone on this parental journey and mistakes are common and almost a right of passage.

HAVE SOME QUIET TIME

I also know for myself I need to make sure I have some downtime, where I'm not with the boys or with anyone else, where I'm alone.  Time where I can nurture those parts of me that need to read and write and relax or practice yoga or close my eyes for a few seconds or watch a movie.  I need time where I exist on my own without boy appendages because those experiences will give me the relief I need to show up for my boys when I'm with them. They will rejuvenate me, just like the contact with other parents and adults will remind me I'm not alone.  Of course, the time available for this kind of nurturing is limited for me because my husband works out of town, so I find it when I can, like early in the morning before they wake or later after they go to bed.

FIGURE OUT WHAT WORKS BEST FOR MY PERSONALITY

It has taken time and experience to know what works best for my personality.  I used to think, time and again, that getting up on Saturday morning and watching a movie was something I deserved and wouldn't slant my mood in any negative way, but it does.  When I begin my day with escapism, because that's really what it is for me, I'm already in a state of not wanting to begin my day, and I jump right into ignoring it or putting it on hold, which never mixes well with my boys and myself later on.

I know now if sanity is my goal, starting my day well is one of the best things I can do for me and my boys and anyone else I come in contact with.  I need to get in the shower and get on with getting ready for the day.  Me taking a shower and getting dressed is like a miracle worker on my mood and my ability to be available to my boys and others.  I also need to have a general idea of what I'm going to do after I'm ready, at least one thing to begin with, even if I don't know how the rest of the day will go and even if it's something minor like making breakfast.  It's best for me to have my next step in view, though I know with my children things change and the view can get quite different, but that's where I can get back to not having to do the whole day at once just this moment, until I have more information, which is bound to come.

This list has been helpful to me, and I'm sure, as I go along, I will find other tools and tricks that will help me along the path of maintaining sanity or for those times when it's lost, finding it again.

1. Make a list
2. Take one thing at a time
3. Keep in contact with other adults
4. Have some quiet time
5. Figure out what works with my personality

Simple, right?  Not always, but gratefully I have something to work with, and most days I lay my head on my pillow at night with some sanity left and a light heart of knowing I loved my children and showed up for them with laughter and tolerance in the best way I could for that day, and if I made a mistake or got messy in my interactions with them, I can look at doing better the next day.

And probably something that needs to be added to the list, that I can use as a mantra in my head, is not to be so darn serious about everything, whether it's the traffic or the heat or the boys yelling at each other or the dirty house or the creepy beetle that is now scurrying across the couch or the fact I didn't get any quiet time for the day or the dog pooped in my compost pile, which really did happen.  Darn dog.

Life is sometimes very funny, especially when I'm not so serious about it.

If you have any other tools or tricks in keeping your sanity, please tell us in the comment section.  It would be great to hear what works for you.

The Great Persuasive Lie

She cornered me at the front door.  Her words slithered over my skin and into my mind, but the alcohol fumbled their intent, and she stormed off.  I stumbled down the hall, my shoulders absorbing the walls’ sturdiness with each wayward step, until I reached the bedroom door.  Hands on hips, she yelled at me to take the couch.  My body trembled at the idea of walking a few steps more then I collapsed face first onto the embroidered, couch pillows, blackness descended.

Kitchen cupboards slammed again and again, and for a moment I knew not what sounded, only that my head pounded with every bang. 

“Stop all that goddamn noise,” I said and pulled a pillow over my head.

The banging continued and then the clang of pots and pans joined the symphony of anger I knew was my wife's, another morning of hate and reproach.  I rolled off the couch and worked my way to the kitchen.  I poured hot coffee in a mug and two fingers of whiskey and leaned against the counter’s edge for my inevitable talking to.

She watched me, so intent I thought if she could manifest fire I’d be a goner.  I almost wished she could.

 “I’m leaving you.”

“What?” I said.

“I’m leaving you.”

“I’ve heard it before, and you never left.”

“This time is different.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m already packed and loaded, Dan.  This is just me saying good-bye.”

“Good-bye then,” I said.  I swiped the whiskey bottle from the counter and headed to the couch.

Time slowed.  The whiskey bottle sat on the coffee table; I watched it watching me.  My mind struggled over her leaving, so silent in the house now, and her anger and why she left.

I loved her.  I hated her.  I wanted her.

 

The bottle felt cool in my hand and smooth to the touch.  I set it back on the coffee table, pushed it further from me.  When was it going to end?  Lost my job, my wife, my family, no one would have anything to do with me.

“What the hell happened to me?” I yelled.  Desperation filled my gut, my heart.  My head lolled on my chest and the house's silence darkened and tangled its tentacles around my limbs.  I felt hopeless.

The bottle shimmered with light like it held its own inner source.  I didn’t need any of them anyway, right?  But I wanted them.  I felt lonely, at a loss.  My eyes edged back to the bottle, so inviting.  Naw, I'm better off without them.  My hand wrapped around the glass, and I tilted the brown liquid back and swallowed.

 

Yeah, I didn’t need any of them or that stupid job.  I was fine.  I was good.

 

Another swallow.  Complete oblivion.

 

Letting Go of the Darkness

The morning is light blue and promises bright, warm sun, once the horizon lets go of its hold on the night.  The birds twitter and sing for me, and I breathe clean air like my lungs have never breathed before.  My children are still asleep, along with my husband, and I turn on the stereo and put poppy Bluegrass on to wake them from their deep slumber.

There was a time, even when the sun shone, only darkness enveloped my morning, my afternoon, my night.  The reprieve of living, of feeling what life had to give, did not enter my heart or my mind, and today the grace of what is lives here in the here and now, where I am if I choose to stay.

The promise of the sun is not the only promise I can capitalize on today.  What's my choice to be?  Mmmm... today the choice is not difficult to make.