Top Five Friday: Find Peace Among the Pieces

A lot of the conflict you have in your life exists simply because you're not living in alignment; you're not being true to yourself.

~ Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

In August, I’m participating in BlogHer’s Blogging Challenge.  The theme this month is: Hot.

I

needed to get away.  Wrap myself in a security blanket of silence and solitude. 

For years, I thought that if I just lived in a another house, another city, made more money, or had a different job, then all the pieces of me that were missing or mangled, would magically realign.

Forget karma.  Truth can be a mis-spelled witch too.

Different Venue, Same Voices

I got my wish.  I went away for a week here, a few days there.  Finally, I could relax the emotional security system that is usually on 24/7.  I didn’t have to guard every word ~ there were no fragile psyches that would shatter under illusions and misinterpretations.  I didn’t have to school myself to ignore criticism and venom-dipped accusations ~ I just had to battle with the demon of self-criticism.

It was a battle I lost.

The old adage, “Wherever you go, there you are” is true.  The issues you are struggling with don’t stay behind when you change locations.  And if you change locations to somewhere quiet and distraction-free?  Well, those issues come out, take center stage, and do an agonizing song and dance for an audience of one.

At first, I was shocked:

I’m too smart for this ~ I should be able to think myself out of this. 

Then I was angry:

WTF?!  Can I get no peace!? She’s ruined me!

Then despair slouched in:

I’m doomed to have no peace, not even from myself.  I might as well give in and sleep.  Or watch whatever mindless marathon is on TV.  Or engage in (insert favorite self-destructive behavior here).

If You Can’t Beat ‘Em…

Image Credit: Pinterest

It wasn’t until the second week of my “escapation” that I shook off the despondency.  This is me, this is who I am: a broken, mildly dysfunctional human being.  Ha!  Welcome to the world, babe.  You are just like everyone else.  Except. . .that there are tools at my disposal that can help ease the wherever-you-go blues, if not cure them.

Friends

Getting out with my close friends does wonders for the psyche.  Do they make any problems I’m grappling with go away?  No, but they remind me that I am lovable, capable, and worth the struggle.

A word of warning: some people will say they are your friends.  But in reality, you are just a stand in for the parental or other authority figure they currently hate/have issues with.  Friends are there to be supportive, loving, and accepting.  They are not meant to be a cheap substitute for a therapist.  That’s not healthy for either of you.

Journaling

If I need to learn something, I have to write it down ~ the act of writing and seeing it in black and white triggers something in my brain.  The words on the page become part of my memory, and in turn, part of me.  Sometimes I write things down that seem dramatic and insane.  And when I go back and read it again, I see how petty or small the problem really is.

Journaling is a great tool for learning yourself.  And self-knowledge is one of the keys to self-actualization and healing.  As Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Mother Nature

Even if you are a city slicker born and bred, there is something about getting out in the open air.  Parks are fine, but to really benefit from the healing properties of nature, it has to be a BIG park, where the trees and wildlife outnumber people.  I know I can’t be the only one who has gained strength by hiking or sitting near a waterfall.  The earth is constantly healing itself and I believe that some of that power transfers to us when we immerse ourselves in it.

Prayer

We all long for something other.  Just look at how popular paranormal fiction has become in recent years.  Your desire for something greater than yourself may take different forms.  But the desire is there.  Address that Higher Power and let them have it.  Yell, scream, throw things, cry.  And then ask that Higher Power to fill the empty spaces and lead you to a better version of yourself.

Therapy

I don’t know why so many people are afraid of shrinks.  We talk to our hair stylists, bartenders, friends, lovers, even our pets.  But we refuse to talk to someone trained to listen and help us work through issues?  You wouldn’t refuse to go get a broken leg set by a doctor ~ why are you refusing to get your broken life healed?

Granted, there are a lot of quacks out there.  I’ve known some therapists who ruined people or at the least, kept them in a state of brokenness.  But again, just because some doctors are guilty of malpractice doesn’t mean you sit at home with an infected appendix. 

Do some research, ask friend for referrals, and interview the doctor once you meet them, you can feel out whether they’re legit and a good fit for you.

Misery loves company ~ you’re not alone.  But the key is that we don’t have to stay miserable.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

How do you deal with stress?  Have you ever tried to alleviate emotional pain in any of these five ways?  Did it help?

Top Five Friday: Reasons You Should Join WordCount's Blogathon

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

~ Maya Angelou

T

he Sixth Annual WordCount Blogathon begins tomorrow and there is still time to register!

This will be my third year participating and my goals this year are to post all 30 days (even if it’s just a haiku!), to forge friendships with new bloggers, to have someone guest post at least once, and to be better writer by the time the last drop of ink dries.

So why should you join us? 

 

Everyone Has a Story to Tell

And no one can tell it the way you can.  I’ve mentioned this before ~ your story, your voice, is unique and we want to hear it.  Who knows how many hearts will be moved, or lives changed, because you took a deep breath, stepped up to the keyboard, and shared your story.

If you are a writer with a book already published, this is a great opportunity to reach new readers.  And if you are a writer without a blog, now is the time to start one.  Nowadays, publishers like to see author blogs and their potential readership reach.

Writers are a Truly Supportive Community

It has been said before, but it bears repeating: writers (and indeed most artists) are truly the most supportive group of people I have ever met.  They’re open, friendly, and encourage each other to hone their craft.  Positive constructive criticism has always been my experience and the writers who are part of the Blogathon are no exception.

Socrates and Byron Were Dead On

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” and “If I don’t write, I go mad.”  I am never more honest with myself then when I am writing.  And this is doubly true when I blog, because then I have an audience who can check my facts or may be helped or hurt by what I post. 

Some of my friends would raise their eyebrows and say that I tend to overanalyze everything, including myself.  But what they don’t realize is that it would be much worse if some of that examination wasn’t vented on paper ~ or in this case, the computer screen.

A Stagnant Life Grows Nothing but Algae

As we get older, we tend to stagnant, both in terms of lifestyle and though patterns.  Don’t misunderstand me, routine is not intrinsically evil, it can help you accomplish goals.  But not when it means you are never exposed to new ideas, methods, and perspectives.  During the blogathon, you will meet new people and encounter new blogs.  And if you are open, I guarantee you will learn something new.

Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About

“But I have nothing to say, nothing worth writing about!”  Well, then, here is your chance to do something worth talking (and blogging) about! 

·         Hike that state park you’ve been meaning to visit and tell us what you saw. 

·         Sign up for a cake class and show us how to properly ice with buttercream. 

·         Visit your older neighbor and write down his or her experiences during WWII or Vietnam.

·         Start a community garden and post your lessons learned.

My number reason?   Writing cures writers’ block.  Once you start, the ink just continues to flow and you will have more ideas then you have time to write about.

And I can’t wait for that river to run.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

If you join, email me.  I’d love to get to know you and read your story!

La Belle's Hobby Farm: Moving Back: Was the Sacrifice Too Great?

A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world. 
~ Lois Wyse

 

M

oving back to the country was the right decision.  But it came with its share of sacrifices ~ the greatest one being the increase in physical distance from my community of friends and neighbors. 

It took me over ten years to build a strong support system and while my friends are still here for me and I for them, the amount of insane traffic in between us, not to mention our busy schedules, make frequent face to face meetings near impossible.  Some would say this should make the friendships all the more precious.  And it does.  But lately, I find the distance  depressing.

When you only live a few minutes from one another, friendship and community thrives on the little things:

-         The spontaneous phone call or text that says ~ “What are you doing right now?  Wanna grab a cup of coffee and hang out?”

-         The unexpected knock on the door and invitation to walk around the block.

-         The spur of the moment movie night

Don’t get me wrong ~ planned get togethers are great too; it’s just that the spontaneous aspect is completely gone and the planned outings are few and far between.  What good is being out in the country, trying to live a local, peaceful, sustainable lifestyle when your friends aren’t around to pour the Fair Trade tea for?

The Winter Garden 

My garden is a reflection of my heart ~ a sad, little weather-beaten plot, a dull brownish grey, covered in last year’s leaves and yesterday’s leftovers.  The one bright spot: a lone rosemary plant standing brave and tall and lushly green and fragrant. 

Rosemary for remembrance. 

Remembrance that winter doesn’t last forever.  That all that dead and decaying leaves and compost that looks so ugly on the surface has actually enriched the soil, kept the bumblebees warm, and protected last year’s seeds, making this year’s harvest more abundant and sweet. That I can use my garden’s dormant season to plan and buy seeds to plant in the spring.

The heart also has its dormant season ~ a time to rest and contemplate and just be.  I tend to ride the social merry-go-round without ever taking a break, and for my personality type, that’s destructive.  As much as I hate it, I need to hibernate from time to time so I can re-center and remember who I am and what’s important to me.  And what’s important are strong supportive relationships.

So maybe it’s time to start tilling new ground, while not forgetting to weed the old.  Maybe it’s time to grow some new old friends to add to my heart’s garden.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Do you make your friendships a priority?  If not, why?  And if you do, what are some things you do to keep the path of friendship well-worn?

Love Is Kind

Don’t flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become.
~ Oliver Wendall Holmes

Common courtesy is not so common anymore. The little polite phrases most of us were taught as children have all but disappeared from our daily conversations and interactions. Why have we stopped being polite to one another? I have addressed this topic before ~ focusing more on courtesy to strangers; now I wish to bring it a little closer to home and discuss proper behaviour towards loved ones.

One would think that such a discussion would not be needed; treating loved ones well seems so obvious. Sadly, such is not the case. Recently, this was brought home to me as I was the recipient on two separate occasions of very wounding and outright rude comments made to me by people I trusted. And while being on this side of the curtain now, I am sure that being a fallen human being, I have likewise said rude and hurtful things to friends and loved ones in the past as well.

Why do we do this? Now, one could posit that I was hurt because the words were spoken by those whose affection and good opinion I desire ~ the heart feels safe in the presence of loved ones and so does not protect itself as it does with strangers. While there is truth to that, in both these cases, the hurtful words I experienced no lady or gentleman would ever speak to anyone, let alone a dear friend or potential girlfriend. They are things that just are not said in polite company. Again, why do we do this? Does familiarity truly breed contempt?

Or perhaps, as Oliver Wendall Holmes points out, we somehow feel justified in “speaking our minds.” Things may be topsy-turvy these days, but I am pretty sure imprudent speech is still a vice and not a virtue. It is one thing to take a loved one aside and caution them about some potentially dangerous behavior [and even then, such ‘fraternal correction’ should be done with love, humility, tact and kindness]. It is quite another to make rude comments about their person, appearance, character and otherwise treat them as a comfortable old shoe. And old shoe you step on and throw into the corner after a long day. We should never be that comfortable with a loved one. If we would never think of saying X to a stranger lest we give offense, how much more careful should we be with the vulnerability of our loved ones, who have trusted us and let us in where no other may enter, save perhaps God.

Society today so abhors formality ~ but formality and courtesy are not the same thing. One can be exceedingly formal and still ride roughshod over everyone’s feelings. A friend once remarked that he was fine with throwing out archaic rules of etiquette as long as new ones were created in their place. Our society did one without doing the other and culture has suffered as a consequence. Courtesy oils the wheels of daily life. It is difficult enough as it is ~ we go about our day battered by bosses, co-workers, and obliviously rude strangers on the train. At the very least, we should expect a little more kindness and warmth from our loved ones.

So the next time you feel the need to “speak honestly” to someone in a way that would be hurtful and pointless, don't.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

January Chowder Dinner

Chowder breathes reassurance. It steams consolation.
~ Clementine Paddleford

Cooking on Fridays are always a bit of challenge for me. I generally keep them meatless and coming up with interesting and tasty dishes without beef, pork or chicken stretches me as a cook and hostess. My mother, from whom I first learned the art of Southern gastronomy, always opted for the simple approach: eggs, pancakes, pasta or the ever reliable cheese pizza.

This is all very well if I am cooking for one. I must confess, dear reader, that I am not one of those gourmands who must have white linen and candles with every meal I consume. I am afraid I am a bit too much of the social butterfly as well, so that does not always work with my social schedule.

Last night, however, I hosted an impromptu dinner as my friend Charlie was in town. I wanted to keep things light and simple yet not flat and boring. I scoured my Southern Living cookbooks and the Epicurious online database. In the end, I chose a recipe for New England Fish Chowder and made some additions of my own (okra, green peppers and celery).

Buying vegetables fresh and local becomes a bit of a challenge in January, when only apples, pears and root vegetables are the order of the day. So I broke one of my precious rules and bought green peppers ~ American yes, but trucked in. I ought to be beaten ~ or I need my own greenhouse! Onions I had in storage and potatoes as well, so I was saved there. As for the cod, haddock and red snapper that went into the chowder, I bought from our local seafood market, America's Seafood. I was also able to get the fish stock there as well. It is a great local store with some of the freshest seafood around.

For dessert, I made a Southern Living recipe for Pound Cake, which I poured into mini muffins pans and served with a warm chocolate sauce. It was a wonderful dinner that was simple to prepare and perfect for a cold January night.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

The world is your snowball just for a song,
get out and roll it along.
~ It's a Marshmallow World

My life is a sitcom. Have I ever mentioned that to you, dear reader? Well it is. The antics and theatrics my household sisters and I get up to would have you in stitches. I am sure of this because it happens to us frequently. I thought it was just a local phenomenon. Apparently such hilarity and comedy of errors can follow one around.

My trip up went quite well. No missed trains. My friend Melders and I had a grand time of it around the large fireplace in the living room (seriously, you could have roasted a whole steer in there in the old days!) when I arrived and made our plans for the morrow over a most delectable roasted chicken dinner that her uber wonderful husband prepared for us.

The plan was simple. Our friend ET would come over, we would have a leisurely brunch cooked by yours truly and then we would all sally forth to Niantic to skulk around the infamous Book Barn, which it is reported, has at least six buildings full of books. They have cool names like Ellis Island (where all the "new" books are brought in preparation for sorting) and The Haunted Bookshop, where all the mysteries and thrillers are kept.

First, we ran a little late. Which was fine, because then HubbyD came back from the dry cleaners with Melders' fur coats, one for each of us. ET opted to keep her downy coat and Melders and I threw on the other two with great drama. Then ET could not remember the turn for the main Book Barn, so we decided to go to the downtown branch first and then to the main barn. It was glorious, dear reader. You would die of excitement to see it. Lucky for me, the overflow of culinary books and mysteries were located there. I tried my best to be good. I really did. And it was not so bad: I spent around $30-some and brought home several culinary books, a couple of Albert Campion mysteries and one very special treasure: Michael Jackson's Complete Guide to Single Malt Scotch: A Connoisseur's Guide to the Single Malt Whiskies of Scotland. And no, not that MJ.

Have I ever mentioned I love most things Scottish? Especially a nice whisky. Bliss.

Anyway, back to the comedy of errors. Everything was still going according to plan. We were on schedule to head to the main barn and then grab lunch and make it back to Andover ahead of an incoming snow storm. I was pleased about the snow ~ we have had sixty-degree weather here in Virginia. Sick for January if you ask me. Once we emerged from the Book Barn Downtown, we went to the car, deposited our bags, wherein I sniffed and said: "Oh, I hope that gas smell is not us!" I always say things like that. Usually only to myself when driving the U-mobile. And usually when I say it, it turns out to be someone else.

This time it was us. Sad to say, we turned on the car and pulled out in order to check. I can just hear my male readers groaning and see them clutching their heads. Ah yes. Well, there it was, a pool of something in our parking spot! I wanted to make sure it was gas and not just some harmless washer fluid or anti-freeze. I got out, took off the fabulous fur coat and Doctor Who-like, bent down, touched the liquid and smelled it. Unlike the good Doctor, I did not taste it. I did not need to ~ and would not have anyway ~ ewww! It was most certainly gasoline. Somehow, we had sprung a leak.

The Book Barn Downtown is right next to a Dunkin Donuts (those things are like Starbucks in D.C. ~ everywhere!) which is itself right next to a pub, The Black Sheep. We first retired to DD to get a cup of chai and some munchkins while we waited for AAA to come rescue us. ET also called her man Jed, since we realized that a tow truck only has room for three, not four. After an hour and a half of waiting, the tow driver informed us that he only towed locally in a snowstorm (oh yes, it has begun by this time) and that his company did not tow cars with gas leaks. Fair enough, but we were quite put out that we had not been informed of this earlier.

There was nothing to do but wait for Jed to come in his Ford steed to carry us all back to Andover. So drowned our sorrows at The Black Sheep, where I had some uncommonly good french fries and a magnificent Angus burger that they actually cooked medium rare. This is very ~ ahem, apologies ~ rare in today's restaurant world. Everyone is afraid of being sued by diners i their rare beef gives them a touch of bacteria. I was glad to find a sensible cook who understood the delicate nature of red meat.

In the end there was nothing to do but leave the car there overnight (hence the title of this post: we were not going to do much driving!) and have someone else tow it after the storm. This was fine, except that this, on top of the snowstorm, threw a wrench in our Sunday plans as well. We were to head to New York for a concert and dinner with friends of mine. But even if we had had a reliable car, the roads were not fit for driving until much, much later.

Despite or perhaps because of these adventures, I had a frightfully good time, including an incredible prime rib dinner, complete with Sexy Potatoes (not sure why they are called that, but they are wonderful!) and an Apple Crisp for dessert, made once again by HubbyD.

Traveling is good for the soul, but it is good to be back in Dixie again.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Little Christmas in Connecticut

The only way of catching a train I ever discovered is to miss the train before.
~ G.K. Chesterton

It pains me to say it, but I have a feeling this will be the case with me, as I rather enjoy spending my mornings with a steaming cup of chai or Creme de la Earl Grey and fresh-from-the-oven shortbread, not rushing madly after trains. But one of my housemates has kindly offered to drop me and my baggage at the station, so hopefully it will not be as ghastly an experience as I originally thought.

Traveling is wonderful; I love catching up with old friends, meeting new ones, sampling the local food and coming face to face with regional history. It is just the getting there and back that causes such anxiety. I notice that this anxiety does not rear its ugly visage when I am driving to my destination. But the thought of having to catch another mode of transportation and possibly missing it fills me with as much dread as Tristan Farnon when faced with Mr. Mulligan's Irish wolfhound.

But the prospect of spending a few days in the Connecticut countryside with one of my dearest friends overides any dislike I have for the arrival thereof. If I have any free time during the next five days, I shall post about some of my doings. Otherwise, dear reader, have a wonderful weekend!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

The Comfort of Music

...what I want from songs now is comfort. Not to be pushed forward or challenged, though this is occasionally necessary, but to hear music that says yes, we are tired, but we are alive.
~ Joel Hartse

A favorite resource of mine on all things related to art and culture is Image Journal, "a literary and arts quarterly founded in 1989." This morning I was reading Joel Hartse's top ten songs of 2008. I am always searching for new music and new artists ~ especially indie artists. I was intrigued by Joel's list (surely he is a melancholic!) and in looking for sample tracks, I came across Last.fm ~ a website similar to Emusic in that it makes independent music more readily available. This is always a plus for music lovers.

Making it on Joel's list is Jon Foreman's I Am Still Running. Jon Foreman is the creative force behind the band Switchfoot, whose music I do enjoy. But Jon's solo work is truly beautiful, comforting and accessible. Listening to In My Arms, I felt as if he would be quite at home at one of my musical soirees, improvising with my musician friends.

Have you discovered a new artist recently? Share your favorite tracks in the com box!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela