Stretchy Strong

I noticed strands of spider web still attached to a window screen, left behind by a spider last fall; one strand still waving in the middle, unbroken by winter winds.  A powerful feat for something thinner than a strand of human hair.  “. . . it’s not simply the material’s exceptional strength that makes spider webs so resilient; it’s the unusual combination of strength and stretchiness . . .” (mit.edu)  The key to not breaking: stretchy strong.  I’ve written about how strength is necessary for me to wave in the middle, unbroken in life’s winter winds.  But strong doesn’t mean I can’t break.  Just ask a brick building after it’s hit by a wrecking ball.  I also need stretch, give, not as give in or up, but bounce.  Can’t hit a wall and turn into a pancake, the floor and roll away, rock bottom without grabbing hold of a bungee cord first.  Bounce, a quality not always obvious, but often present if I’m willing to bend a little, and for that I’ll need a strong hold on what really matters.  Grief is stretchy strong; supplying the bounce, knowing I’m what really matters, for as long as it takes for me to reach these places on my own.

Stuffed So Full

Inevitability: certain, unavoidable, inescapable.  I can help it along, but can’t change it, and making it matter puts the kibosh on living.  Imagine your vehicle’s navigation system announcing the following message: there’s an accident ahead, unavoidable because there’s no exit between you and said accident, therefore don’t let inevitable consume you while you wait!  “Death is inevitable.  It will come for us all, and that inevitability robs death entirely of its significance.  What matters are the things that are not inevitable; the things we create, find, . . . how we live.” (The Black List)  For the simple fact I’m given life, death will follow.  Life; a significant event, followed by living with both inevitable and not inevitable.  How long, doesn’t matter.  What does matter is what happens in between, but not everything; not whatever falls on my head, but what I purposely stick my head under.  Imagine your life’s navigation system announcing the following message: there’s death ahead, unavoidable because that’s just how it is, therefore create, find, and experience that which is not inevitable, as much as you can,  as long as you’re given.  My goal: arrive at the end, stuffed so full, there’s no room for one more piece of what really matters.

Out Of The Muck

The main character in a TV series has stage three lung cancer.  His brother-in-law used the words, whatever happens, to assure him his family would be taken care of.  What he really meant was, if the worst happens.  Whatever happens immediately crushed my heart because it reminded me I didn’t get the chance to know.  Strange because we all know that death is inevitability.  In my case it wasn’t whatever happens in the future, it was it happened, meaning done, without a chance to say goodbye.  I thought why didn’t we say the words, whatever happens, at every parting.  Whatever happens today, remember I love you.  Whatever happens, I believe in you.  Whatever happens, know you’re appreciated.  Words directing hearts back to cherished; a process that needs to happen consistently in order to keep pulling cherished up out of the muck of everyday struggles.  Words directing hearts to more important things than arguments, who’s right, one person’s needs and wants, mistakes, or too busy.  Words not directing hearts to fear death, because to fear something that will happen would mean a lifetime of fear, but words directed at finding find joy in each other and one more day of life.

Not How, But Go

(More Than Once, continued) Throughout a life, even a day, I encounter many starts and finishes.  The time between can be minutes, months, or years – eat breakfast, the birth of a baby, grade school.  There are many automatic ones, like brushing my teeth, but it’s the ones where planning and consideration are needed that shout, undeniably important.  Does it matter how I start?  Does it matter how I finish?  Nope.  What matters is I do.  Start.  Finish.  I’ve successfully navigated a starting line, but I’ve also been on some for a while: I’m ready, no wait, more things to consider, all set, more hesitation, what am I waiting for?  There are some I’ve yet to leave; one set of toes on the line, the other engaging the starting block, the starting pistol fires, then nothing, not a slight rise, not even a twitch.  Get up, walk a bit, then repeat.  I’ve successfully finished, but I’ve also said, I’m finished after trying hard enough, long enough, most of the way, almost, close enough.  I remember many starts because I remember, celebrate, and appreciate the finish.  I find the time between rarely important enough to remember because that’s neither here nor there.  Not how.  Go!

Hold So Much

My words: just look into the eyes of someone you love and tell me it isn’t so. (Far From Everything)  As I read these words again, I thought, what an amazing ruler!  Not just for considering the importance of what I want to do, but all the things I make snap judgments about when I don’t care about the pros and cons list or  deeper thought, which could sway me towards unselfish.  There’s a better way, also made in a snap, but overflowing with a huge helping of being everything – just look into the eyes of someone I love.  This quickly pulls my attention towards considering what really matter; is it really what I want to do, or is there something else shining in those eyes?  Those eyes expand my “just me, all about me, or I matter” thoughts that so often push their way to the front of the line, ahead of all the what really matters.  Those eyes ask, please consider me when deciding how to spend your time and resources, when making unhealthy choices, considering to lie or tell the truth, before answering yes, I can, or no, I can’t.  It’s amazing how eyes so small can hold so much!

Unbelievable Truth

After reading words I’ve known for a long time to be true, yet always struggle to believe, I found a way to not need to prove the truth wrong or make myself believe.  I know, combined with evidence to believe, is the best scenario, but I also have the ability to believe without evidence.  But true and yet can’t believe is frustrating because I need to have the two align.  I’ve discovered they don’t have to when there’s an undeniable reason.  I have my own definition of what a best friends friendship looks like and because this one doesn’t measure up, I have a hard time calling it one.  I want it to be true, but to make myself believe, certain things should be happening, and they’re not.  But I found that even though I’m capable of all the things that should happen, my friend is not, through no fault of her own.  I was once in her shoes, so I know about all the other “what matters” she’s juggling.  If this best friends friendship can only be in our hearts and minds for now, then it does exist, it is true, and I’m willing to wait for the rest.

Compromise/Prioritize

When a man on a TV show learned his wife knew about her terminal illness for months, he asked, why didn’t you tell me?  He said something like, I could have spent more time with you.  I could have paid you more attention.  Could have.  Why didn’t you anyway.  Why do I need to be inspired by the certainty of death to make someone matter?  Or maybe it’s just to move someone to the top of the what matters list.  As I moved through time, the not so great things my husband did moved him further down the list.  I also gathered up other things and made them matter more.  Life works well with compromises, but they’re easily ignored, especially when I think I’m able to manage many more what matters that I really can.  If I won’t compromise, importance for some will diminish, and I’m so busy with what remains strong, it’s easy to not notice the ones waiting patiently to move up the list.  What about prioritize?  Clean the kitchen or play games with my granddaughter?  Play a game; plenty of time to clean up when she’s not here.  Both take thoughtful consideration.  Where’s that on my list?

Divvy Out The Day

What if nothing mattered?  What if everything mattered?  If nothing matters then why am I here; a question I’ve asked myself many times, leading me to believe it’s not obvious to me that my life has meaning.  It’s obvious my eyes are green; just look in the mirror.  But a mirror can’t show me how my life matters.  I have to know that it does by purposely choosing the colors of my life, and seeing those colors reflected in the lives of my children and grandchildren.  If everything mattered, I would end up needing a padded cell.  It would be overwhelming, unbearable, the epitome of chaos, exhausting from constantly spinning my wheels, and certain failure, because everything can’t, so nothing will.  There must be a balance, the only way to “bring home the bacon”, and “fry it up in the pan”.  My life includes things that matter – not optional, things that matter – optional (but not forever), opposite things that matter – like paying the bills and fun, and things that matter and yet sacrificed for want to, matters or not.  What matters most of all to me?  Choices.  Divvy out the day; who, do, when, where, and don’t forget sleep!

Let Yourself Go

Sunday Morning had a segment about needing haircuts, the arrival of two-toned hair, and 2” long fingernails.  What happened to DIY?  Finger nail clippers cost a few bucks and a box of hair color, not too much more.  Something’s better than nothing.  Maybe you think you’re not capable, but that’s not true, because we’re not talking about fully capable, just capable enough to get by and that’s what we’re all, currently, trying to do.  And what about wearing these strange dos proudly?  They say you’re still here.  Yes, they signify how far you’ve let yourself go, but that translates to how long you’ve survived!  Complaints don’t help, and I’ll concede they’re valid, but, and it’s a really big but, your survival doesn’t have anything to do with hair or fingernails.  How about letting them help bring some much needed humor.  The strange dos also tell me you have more important things to do than fix your hair, like learning how to be a teacher for your kids.  I hope they don’t imply you’re saving up for a $100+ hairdo, but making sure others have enough to eat.  Go ahead, let yourself go, but never ever let go of others.

Matter Not At All

I recently had the opportunity to go to the Alaska State Fair.  Fair food included crab cakes, halibut fish and chips, and birch syrup (no sugar maples in Alaska!).  I got to meet the Alaska Ninja, Nick Hanson.  I’ve never met anyone I’ve seen on TV before.  I know these people are real but it was strange to stand right next to him rather than seeing him in a box only inches tall (TV really does add 10 pounds).  The American Ninja Warrior show has become an amazing platform for people from all walks of life and demonstrates an unusual refreshing comradery among the competitors, who really do want to finish but want the same for everyone on the course.  Nick Hanson practices on floating ice and handmade plywood obstacles in his native Alaskan village.  There are ninjas with disabilities, platforms like recycle or donate a kidney, or who practice on farms, parks, or bridges  Kevin Bull has brought awareness to Alopecia.  One of his fans, a 9 year old girl didn’t want to go to school because she thought she was hideous after losing her hair.  It’s so sad when differences, that matter not at all, matter so much.