the things we carry

Posted by on Mar 26, 2012 in Learning, Spaces, Wholehearted, Writing | 0 comments

On Day 26 of Verb Tribe Patti invited us to empty out our purses and describe the contents and what we might deduce about their owner. This was an enlightening and lightening exercise in letting go! Here’s what I wrote: This exercise was funny and fun for me! I have SO much stuff!  I have resisted carrying a purse for years and had a wallet in my back pocket which was simple and freeing. As I have transitioned to a part time job outside of my home (and clothes sans pockets) I have accumulated enough items and resigned myself to using a purse regularly. I usually still take my small wallet with me in my pocket and leave the bag in the car. 😉 My bag contains 20 items: Battered sunglasses, key ring with six keys (3 deadbolt, 2 auto, one mailbox) a 'save the tat-tas' fob and a Planet Fitness ID, two lip balms, one hair-clip, one wallet with ID, debit cards and twenty dollar bill, one wallet with membership cards, two wrapped toothpicks, one nail file, one small pink bottle of lotion labeled 'body lotion', one clear plastic case of business cards with beach photo, one tiny travel bottle of eye drops, one note pad reads 'love is everything' on cover, one ball point pen (free from biz), three mini yellow post it note pads, a travel bottle of Advil, one pair of reading glasses in flowered case. This woman does not drive a new model car—no electronic key fob, possibly out of thrift or a preference for older dependable less complicated cars. She either has several deadbolts on her front door or more than one key at a workplace, she receives her mail in a locked box so may live in an apartment or complex where mail is not delivered to each house. She has a sense of humor: save the tata’s. She is conscious of her fitness and belongs to a health club but there is no evidence she attends. She has a spiritual awareness: ‘love is everything’ on notepad yet the pages are blank; she chose a nature scene for her business cards, the beach, possibly a sacred place for her. She is thrifty (and ingenious) note the scotch tape on the sunglasses. They are extremely worn and scratched yet still salvaged—she likes what works and is not ready to let go of the old and invest in the new.  Note the thin men’s style wallet filled with membership cards: Sam’s Club, three movie clubs, a library card. She is a movie fan, probably attends matinees: the movie cards hardly have any magnetic strip left on them and not the two wrapped toothpicks possibly for dislodging stray popcorn kernels. This woman is prepared: for chapped lips, dry skin, headaches, dry eyes, putting hair up. Possibly over prepared! Yet note the lack of a swissarmy knife or cell phone.  This woman may be in need of succulence as she prepares for lack of moisture: lotion, lip balm, eye drops. This woman travels by plane often enough to use travel size approved and labeled items: lotion, Advil, eye drops, lip balm. This woman carries little cash but the tucked away twenty dollar bill may be for emergencies or make her feel secure knowing that she could splurge on that one indulgence she sees if she really wants to. This woman is probably in mid her mid-forties and wears contacts (eye drops are contact lens moistener) but she also needs reading glasses on top contacts to see up close. The glasses are not prescription but drugstore designer...

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I’m okay with that

Posted by on Jan 18, 2012 in Challenges, Creativity, Learning, Spaces | 2 comments

My Christmas gift to myself was to redecorate my bedroom. I wanted paint, carpet, trim, the whole shebang. I used this project as a guinea pig to test new processes to break a task down into action steps. It felt overwhelming as a whole. When I’m overwhelmed I take no action. So I created a storyboard and the visual steps felt extremely foreign to me but were particularly helpful: Here’s what I needed to learn again. Patience. Process. I set aside my vacation week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. We took our time and did tackled one portion a day. The first time we painted it was with a base coat Jeff had surprised me with, a soft lavender color which he thought I would love. Is there another color besides purple? When we finished Brin stood back and said, Momma it looks like a Unicorn puked in here. Sadly I agreed. It was the perfect color for a bedroom for a four year old princess. Back to Lowe’s for more paint.I was okay with that. I agonized over shades of purple so long and completely that Jeff was able to make his escape to another part of the store without me stopping him. Once I was alone I put all the paint chips named purple mist and grapesicle back in their little slots. I took a deep breath closed my eyes and felt the feeling I wanted when I opened my eyes in bed in the morning. I started picking color brochures of landscapes: the ocean, the mountains, the forest, and then…canyons. That was the feeling—the sun illuminating the oranges and yellows in the canyon wall. Who knew? Huh. No purple? I was okay with that. The green is called Willow Tree but as we slathered it on the bookcase it looked more and more like baby poop. So it’s a doo over—and I’m okay with that. I couldn’t be more surprised by my attitude towards the completion of this long overdue project. I’m in tune with the process and have faith I will find the ideal hue for the bookcase and have not bemoaned the expense of the baby poop paint as a waste. It was an investment in discovering what worked for me and what didn’t. Now I know. And I’m okay with that. Have I suddenly evolved into a patient-in-the-moment person instead of the impatient, controlling, I-must-get-finished-so-I-can-be-happy person I used to be? Huh. What happened? I made a decision. I chose to immerse myself in process and be present instead of getting to done.  The walls and ceiling are painted, the trim is stained but not yet installed, the carpet has been laid, there is only a bed and a nightstand in the room, there’s no curtain on the window ( I tack up a piece of material at night), it still smells faintly of paint. The room is in transition and I am along for the ride. I’m okay with...

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