Striped leopards

The old adage, a leopard doesn't change his spots, is, as those things always are, grounded in reality.

A good friend and I had a talk when I conceived my idea of the yearlong walkabout I will be embarking on in a few days. We talked about how hard it is to make real, deep change to one's self. It's easy to shuffle the externals--maybe a leopard can rearrange his spots--but MUCH harder to change those things about us that consistently get in our way of accomplishing the things we say are important to us.

I do believe in the power of changing the externals to make it a little easier to make those other changes. It's hard to stick to a weight loss program with a refrigerator/pantry full of ice cream and cookies and hanging too much with friends who never exercise and have an ongoing love affair with 'ritas and queso. In fact this premise is fundamental to my whole experiment.

I think the environmental changes give you an extra boost to start. Then, no doubt about it, the HEAVY lifting begins.

I'm also a big believer in having people around you to support you in those changes. And, finding people who have made the changes is always inspiring. All of these things are helpful but not sufficient.

There are a lot of resources out there about how to make these kinds of changes. Keeping focus is a big issue for me because there are SO many interesting things and people out there to play with.

For example, I find the discipline of writing in this blog and my journal about my ongoing relationship/reaction with the changes I'm making helps bring me back into focus. Otherwise, the water is flowing very swiftly beneath my bridge :) and I could be swept downstream to new ideas before I realize what has happened.

It will be interesting to see if this leopard can lose at least a few spots and add some tiger stripes over the next year :)

Gum to my shoe

You know how when you step on a piece of gum and no matter how hard you try, you can't quite get it all off? You think it's gone and then it feels sticky. Once again, you work at it, think it's off and there is that annoying slight stickiness. Drat!

My dream of this little life experiment of mine was to take hardly anything with me when I go to my new digs. It was a fantasy of having only my sweet little doggie, my guitar, bed, clothes, computer and a few books....oh yeah my iPod and SoundDeck too...

WELL! First, I have things going in about 4 different places, but as I'm packing, I'm realizing the above is a fantasy. Life is complicated in far more ways than just stuff.

There are things like bills, documents that you need to have on hand (passports anyone?), health insurance info warranty/technical info on digital cameras, computers etc. I do like to cook and have a favorite skillet, do I leave that behind? And what about my Santa mugs and plates that I love pulling out around Christmas? They are the kinds of things that give me a little lift and make me smile when I use them :)) I guess I can do without them for a year....I'll be that much more delighted when next we meet.

Then, there is this buisness idea I will be working on. I have some books and other resources that will be helpful with that. Then there is the paper that may get generated from all that. I'll need my printer. What about volunteer work I do, there is paper and stuff associated with that. Geesh!

So from taking only my bed and a nightstand, I'm thinking I'll take a small table I have to serve as a workspace. And a small armoire will serve as storage. A filing cabinet to keep those documents in. Still not that much but more than I want.

Our lives are just too darned complicated. How does that happen? Even a tiny bit of gum on your shoe is sticky.

Of demi-tasse and Marie Antoinette

If books were indicators of my growth rings, like a tree, my dishes are even more telling of my evolution. The passing seasons....both my life timeline and the seasons in each year.

I admit to having been addicted to collecting dishes at one point in my life. In book terms, it was about the same time period as I was reading about gardening, poring over Southern Living house plans, and buying antiques. All very pleasant activities I must say.

I have English ironstone with octagonal, dark green trimmed plates that I like for spring and summer because of the lovely little purple, yellow and red bouquets around the edges. I have Mason's Pink Vista which I LOVE! Cranberry colored pattern on ivory with ivy and vines entwining around the plate, ruffled edges and in the center, an English Lady and Lord strolling in a lovely park. Beautiful at Christmas.

Then there is the Johnson Brothers Friendly Village in autumn tones, the covered bridges and woodland scenes are fun to use in fall and winter. Not to mention the odd platters and plates that i loved because of their color and/or shape.

As I was packing these things all weekend, I still had strong feelings about them. LOOK at this DARling little soup tureen with the cunning little lid with its cutout for the ladle! How about the dark green edged octagonal vegetable serving dish? And the large footed bowl that is so festive at Christmas with a fruit salad in it!

However, my reaction to my china (yes my name is Jane Doe and I am a dishaholic....) was flat. It is gorgeous.... white with gold trim and very colorful, hand painted flowers all over. It's antique and I have lots of it. Lots of odd and serving pieces which tend to be valued more than basic pieces. I have paper thin tea cups with an MA spelled out with flower garlands inside (stands for Marie Antoinette I was told). I have a tiny demi-tasse set with the accompanying cream and sugar. I have a number of bowls. And reticulated plates meaning the edge has cutouts.

It sets a spectacular table no doubt about it. But somehow I don't think I love it anymore.

It's not a reflection of my taste anymore. It hurts me to say it because I collected it so lovingly. Scoured antique shows for any piece I could find. The thrill of the hunt!

But it's just too much. I'm not into spectacular, it would have looked great in my Southern house full of antiques and flower arrangements. That house never became reality though and it belongs to a different time. We are headed in different directions, my china and I.

What to do? I couldn't quite bring myself to decide to sell it. But I think I will hold it out from the other boxes in case I decide to sell the bits like the demi-tasse and the Marie Antionette cups and saucers. I could do that I suppose and keep the more basic pieces.

Hmmmm....I don't know. I just know I don't want stuff around me just because I have it. I want to love it, to have only things that give me a little thrill when I see them around me.

Not cluttering things that suck my energy by taking up space without giving anything back.

Focus and Just DO THE FREAKIN' WORK!

So, my hair stylist, JM, whom I have mentioned before, famously (to me anyway) said the above to me during a color and cut. It has stuck with me as have many things he has said. I'm always obsessing about something, making it complicated in my usual fashion.

JM listens, then when I have finished, comes out with something profound, yet simple, leaving me momentarily speechless at the beauty of it.

He came out with the above while we were discussing a big mosaic he was creating. At the time, I was pondering the creative process, especially the part where it gets discouraging, or haaardd [whine], or boring, or someone doesn't think it's so great, or I get tired/hungry....any one of a million things that could be used as an excuse to ditch the effort. That's a part of the process I'm quite good at actually :)

I asked him if he didn't ever get discouraged, or bored or...whatever. "Well, duh!" he said, "of course!" Well what do you do about it, I asked. Said he, "I just say to myself, JM do the work, just do the freakin' work! And then I do it!" I laughed and laughed. Brilliant!

Part of what precipitated my little crisis here is that I am very good and LOOOVEE flitting about from idea to idea, activity to activity. I'm a regular little hummingbird buzzing about the garden of life, I am, sampling endless ideas, theories and activities. BUT, I don't really have much to show for my flitting. Not an expert at anything, no beautiful pictures on the wall, no awards for tennis or bowling, nothing. I generally don't stick with something long enough to build that skill. That isn't working for me anymore.

So, I wanted something where I just have to do the freakin' work and keep at it even if it's hard, or I suck at it, or I don't feel like it. One of that something (well, I can't give up EVERYthing) is playing the guitar. I took it up several months ago determined to stick with it and even learn, gulp, music theory. It's a perfectly learnable skill, it's something you can do forever and still be learning, and it's danged FUN!

Well....OK, it's isn't always fun. In fact, in the beginning, it's mostly fumbling fingers, blank looks at Rob, my instructor, avoiding practice more than I would like to admit, etc. But, I'm making it my practice, in the sense of a discipline, to just keep going. And, it is sinking in slowly in bits and pieces.

I actually managed to pick out a Pretenders song and I'm very pleased with myself. Couldn't have done that even a few months ago. Yea me!

I'm searching for the satisfaction of working and cussing and struggling with something to make something exist that didn't before. And paying attention to when I don't feel inspired but do it anyway....sometimes something brilliant happens.

All part of my little change experiment.....

Books, more books.....

Purging and packing my books has been a kind of archeological dig of the different layers of my life. It is so interesting to think back on my life through the lens of the kinds of books on my shelves.

There are the books on antiques, china, silver, entertaining, flower arranging, dressage riding/horse breeding, and garden design that are artifacts from what I think of as my first adult life. That's when I was helping my husband in his business and taking care of all the demands of our life but not working an outside job. I had the time, interest and money to direct towards the finer things in life and making my and his life gracious (well, that sounds a little Southern belle but I do believe those things can add beauty to one's life).

Then there was the beginning of my second adulthood without my husband....I was trying to forge my identity as someone not part of a couple. That was hard since I had never dreamed I would be single. That would be the Latin, medieval history, and the philosophy of history books I read while I was back to university thinking I would get a PhD in medieval history.

Then there was the personal development phasesince I decided I wasn't cut out to live mentally in the Middle Ages for the rest of my life, I was trying to find myself. Integral Psychology, Power of Now, Mindfulness, Science of God, etc. I really liked this phase, I'm still in it just on a scaled back version.

Then my fire lit and there came my interest in human and human system development as I was getting my Master's.....lots of chaos and complexity theory, Peter Senge, adult learning, critical thinking etc. This stuff can still get me going and much of it has been incorporated into the way I operate in this world and understand business and people.

My business phase, which was more about marketing, the experiential economy, entrepreneurship, etc.

Many of my fiction books are the thread that weaves in and out of all these phases.....I read them over with a few years in between. How many times have I read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, or Jane Austen, or Charles Dickens? They are hard to beat!!

Books are my weakness but I hadn't thought of them as a record of my growth as a human, both personally and professionally. Most of them I am packing away for now. Being without most of my books will be a challenge, I love my books. I don't know what that will be like.

Oooh, this could make a great screenplay....without the presence of my books as an external symbol of what's in my head, do I have any of that knowledge in my head?? Can't you see someone's books being burned up in a fire or the irate ex taking them away, and suddenly this person doesn't know anything that was in his or her books. For some reason, I am thinking of Being John Malkovich. I think I need to go to bed, clearly my mind is working in weird ways.....:)

Accept me as who?

A friend and I fell into conversation about what she feels are the mixed messages in magazines and other media. On the one hand, they encourage women of a 'certain age' to accept themselves, embrace who they really are, etc etc. That all sounds healthy and reasonable, wouldn't you say? I thought so. Yet, on the other, they are filled with ads for skin salves, plastic surgeons etc.

Generally,embracing one's self seems to mean things like cancelling future color and highlight appointments with Jean Paul. Leaving plastic surgery and botox behind (this one's not hard). Not succumbing to the blandishments of cosmetic companies trying to sell me expensive creams and salves to keep the wrinkles at bay and the skin as youthful looking as possible (not so easy).

Hmm, said I to myself as I listened, trying to be open minded.

So the inverse of that, not that mathematical concepts are my strong point :), is I should let my hair go gray allow nature to take her course with my skin, embrace breast sags and skin that is losing its texture and elasticity, and smile at hairs that miraculously sprout to unbelievable lengths overnight, appearing in places that haven't had hairs before! Never mind the bikini waxes.

In other words, letting Mother Nature take her course with the minimum of interference. Hmmmph, that puts a different spin on it!

Despite my dispassionate, oh so reasonable consideration of this issue, my first reaction was: I DON'T THINK SO!!!

After I calmed down a little, I began to wonder, what does accepting yourself as yourself mean....really?

It seems to me that implying accepting yourself means doing nothing to hold gray hair, wrinkles, dry skin and wild hairs at bay is dictating to someone who they are. I mean where does it all end? Isn't that a little stereotypical? Does that mean I shouldn't work out to maintain as much strength, flexibility, and muscle tone as possible? Next time my gall bladder acts up or I crack a tooth, I should just let Nature take her course?

I mean, if I've been inclined to have what Jean Paul calls "Effect Hair", dress some years younger than many women my age, and freely apply ceramides, anti-oxidizers, and killers of free radicals on my skin, wouldn't it be NOT being myself to let myself suddenly go gray, wrinkly, and hairy? What if being me means being my somewhat vain self? What if I've never been the au naturel, Earth Mother type?

Then in a burst of self examination, I realize that hair color and skin cream seem more benign to me than tummy tucks and eyebrow lifts. Obviously, that's where my particular line of prejudice begins. Which isn't to say in weak moments I haven't considered a little work on eyelids, teehee.

Well now, I don't have a good answer for this. But, it seems to me that embracing and accepting who I really am means just that. If I've always been the au naturel type, great, continue that line. If I've played with the color of my hair, bought every new Elizabeth Arden skin product they push on me, and winced mightily as the aesthetician ripped off my short hairs, wouldn't it be out of integrity to stop doing those things because that's what women of a certain age should do according to media?

Harrumph, I don't think I'm to the bottom of this. But I do think that mid life is being redefined in all sorts of ways and it seems to me that having the choice to be who I want to be is the crux of that.