Your son is a weenie, plain and simple.
I LOVE THIS. Ha, Recovering! It feels like you said a bad word in church or something!
A weenie?!?
Oh, my!
I must be a little afraid of son's anger, still. He still has that power over me then. I was unaware, until you said he was a weenie.
Ha! Recovering!
:O)
Our attachments to the outcome are another cause of suffering
We can't avoid this pain, we have to allow our kids to take it
over because it is their pain.............all we can do is handle the pain in our own hearts that comes from our own powerlessness where our kids are concerned.
This is good, Recovering. This is how we separate, how we begin to feel what it would be to live for ourselves, for our own joy and growth, again.
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in a strange land.
I have felt this, Child.
I sent you a quote once, about someone in the midst of her change process. She too looked around herself, and found that all things, every smallest thing, was different. In the quote, that feeling is described as "poignant with loss."
Let's see if I can find that one for you.
*****************
"Extremely odd sensation, this new awareness, as though she had come a full step away from her former associates. The feeling was poignant with loss."
Frank Herbert
The Jesus Incident (?)
Not so much nice, but nice all packaged up to get you to like me
I believe that, until we develop the ability to hold both the cloud and the silver lining in our minds and in our hearts at the same time (Do you like that imagery, Child? It is yours. :O), until we become "present," we tend to operate from habit, from what worked in the past, more than from our core selves, our real, living, wide awake and aware selves. It is a little about fear, a little about not wanting to risk things we haven't found to be successful in the past.
Unintentionally, we become rigid, in a way. We become caricature's of who we really are.
My heart is good. I don't want to hurt anyone. I see that when I was young, I fell routinely into what had already become a caricature while scoring points through ~ as something Echolette posted about the power of being young and female (once ~ I am old, now) reminded me ~ physical presence. It all happens so subtly. Without a spiritual practice to keep us aware of who and how we really are, there is not much chance for us to develop ourselves in positive ways.
For me, because it was so demanding a thing, a thing with so little outward reward, the ballet classes I took as an adult was a positive way. Karate, with an exacting teacher and Tai Chi, with an even more exacting teacher, with a teacher awake on so many levels...these are positive, challenging ways. Part of the benefit there ~ most of it, maybe ~ is in allowing myself to be a beginner, to not know. To do that willingly, to look and feel ridiculous and like, mentally challenged (!), takes a certain amount of I don't know...is the word courage? Becoming familiar with that feeling by choice has enabled me to welcome it when it is not by my choice. That is the feeling of riding the edge Brene Brown writes about.
Well, how did I get off onto that, I wonder? What I started out to say is that we fall into these kinds of automatic selves. It isn't always that we help so people will like us ~ though we know, when we are in caricature mode, that they will notice us if we help, if we are helpful people. I have been aware of helping people for the pleasure of it, and I have been aware of helping for the "I am so wonderful" of it. If I am helping so they will like me...I think that doesn't work very well.
The problem is that sometimes...I am helping so I will like me.
So, there are all these layers of everything.
If we are learning, as Recovering suggests is best, not to judge but to accept...we, or at least, I do, need to understand that there are so many layers, like a sheave of colored scarves. There have been times my helping self has been a wonderful, giving thing.
I grew, then.
There have been times it has been a caricature thing.
I felt chased, then. Felt out of sorts; felt fraudulent.
Where the heck am I going with this, Child?
:O)
Cedar
"I looked and tried to see each face, not to fail each face, to meet the warmth of each face, when the song was done, not ever to slip back into pain and shyness and cringing as if my past was my shell and I a snail to weak for this ascent, too bound to the old track of ugliness, too full of self-loathing.
Anne Rice
Violin (?)
There was a time I never dreamed I would share my quotes with anyone. Therefore, some of my sources are incomplete. The writer will be correct, but maybe not the book.
Here is another beautiful thing.
"...one of his violin strings broke. The audience grew silent but the violinist did not leave the stage. He signaled the maestro and the orchestra began its part.
The violinist played with power and intensity on only three strings.
Asked later how he had accomplished this feat, the violinist answered, "'It is my task to make music with what remains."'
I have neither author nor book for this one. I'm sorry. It's beautiful, though. Sometimes, when I am feeling hollowed out by my children's affairs...I find strength in this quote.
Know that I wish you well, Child. I see your strength, your honesty and integrity.
I am very glad to have come to know you.
:O)