Knitting in the Shadows

Don't Let Plans Stop You

I had a plan for this months blogging.

That plan included lots of pictures.  There were going to be pictures of the prom, pictures of the graduation celebration, pictures of Mothers' Day stuff, pictures of the spring burgeoning about my yard, pictures of the Birthday, pictures of the H.S. Graduation celebration ....

ahem.

I've got pictures.  Some.  Not as many as I'd like.  But my phone (whose camera records more megapixels than my camera... go figure) and my computer are no longer on speaking terms.  This means that the best I can do is email my pictures to myself.  And when I do that, the camera shrinks them "for" me...  until they're too small to be worth much on the blog.

In frustration, I let that stop me from blogging!  I "couldn't" blog until I fixed the picture issue.

????

That's silly.

It's also a bit of a wake up call.  How many things do we not do because we can't do them the way we'd planned?

I had planned to set up my 90% finished living room with new shelves for the DVDs (since the old ones no longer stand up, having had their bottoms warped), and with a new gadget to allow me to stream my music from the hard drive (where I'm uploading all my CD's) instead of keeping all the CDs on the massive shelf.

I can't find a DVD storage unit that is both attractive and sturdy enough not to fall over (I already have falling over ones) without bolting them to the wall.  Thus, I've not quite finished putting those things away. 

I can't seem to get the folks at the local purveyors of electronic gadgets to identify the gadget I need to stream my audio stuff through my stereo (they all say they know it can be done, they've seen it done, they know people who do it, but they don't know what it takes to get it done).  Instead of just setting up the stereo the way it was, I'm waiting to get the gadget, and we're relying on the bad radio that was built into the intercom in our house for music.

I'm letting the fact that I can't do it the way I planned to do it interfere with getting it done.  How dumb is that?

Sure, I'll keep burning my CD's to the system so that when we figure out the how, we can implement it... but today, I'll focus more on putting together what I CAN do instead of why I can't get it the way I want it.

If we look, I'll bet we'll find lots of places in our lives where we've let not being able to do things the WAY we want has kept us from doing them at all.  I know that there are several other things in my life that suffer from this silliness.  I won't share them all, but here's one more:

There are lots of things in the house that constitute clutter now.  I'd like to get them out ... into the garage perhaps ... and then sort them for sale and/or donation.  But... the garage is a mess.  And the weather and my schedule haven't combined to allow me to clean it out to make room either for the stuff cluttering my house, or to sort what's already there, much less more stuff.  Somehow, I've let this prevent me from de-cluttering the house, from getting rid of some stuff that I know will wind up at GoodWill, and from simply chucking things out there for later contemplation. 

This does not sound like a win win to me.

Planning is a good thing.  But letting plans keep you from doing what you want to do... not so much. 

 

 

Inheritance - with a nod to Franklin

Among the people that I've enjoyed the most of those I've met through knitting  is Franklin Habit. 

I've read his blog (The Panopticon) for years.  I met him once shopping at Stitches, and now seem to be in the habit of doing it at every knitting event I attend.  We say hello, we chat for a moment, he is incredibly gracious, and we move on.  I squee when I think he can't hear me anymore. (Tell me you don't think he looks like Ben Kingsley just a little.)

Recently, he posted THIS on a new blog that he'll evidently be doing for Lion Brand Yarn.  He talked about what amounted to building a family tree, but  "rather than births, deaths, and marriages, it was a record of attitudes, passions, and techniques. It was my[his] lineage…of creativity."

I love that idea.  And so, I interrupted my current spate of genealogical research (and my never ending quest to locate some tangible evidence of the native american ancestors that my whole family agrees exists) and the ungainly burden of trying to achieve a clean house, to contemplate my creative lineage.  What did I learn from MY ancestors.

Realizing that, through my more recent ancestors, I've probably gleaned all manner of wisdom originally passed on by earlier ancestors, I thought I'd introduce you to those I'll be mentioning below (in alphabetical order)

Anna, (Grandma) my father's mother, and Grammy Dot, my stepfather's mother, for whom I seem to have no digital images at all.  They were my original enablers, tying me eternally to the web of playing with sticks and string.

Janet, my "wicked evil" stepmother, whom I adore, and of whom I seem to have ZERO solo photographs.  This will be fixed.  She is a septuagenarian who is still happy to sit and color in good coloring books.  She gave me the Beatles, and colored pencils, and her mother gave us both great books for kids.

Linda, my beautiful, talented, and gracious mother.  I'll stop there lest this post lose it's focus - I could go on for a long long time about how lucky I am to have her as my mother, and why.

Malcolm, (Papa) my father, with thanks that he didn't drop me that day he saw his fathers' face in mine. Oddly, the only digital pictures I have of him are also group shots.  Again, this will be fixed.  As you'll see below, I learned a lot from him -- even though we stopped sharing a domicile in about 1967.

Marvin, my father's brother - about whom you've recently read quite a bit.

Paul, my wonderful stepfather, without whose guidance I'd be a very different person.

Susan, Marvin's lovely wife - engineer, quilter, basketweaver, wonderful woman, who deserves a much better picture.

Sylvia, my mother's wonderful, creative, loving sister, who hasn't sent a holiday or birthday card graced with any art but her own in so long I can't remember the last time I got one without one of her marvelous pictures.

Virginia, (Grandmother)  my mother's mother, again without the digital pics.

And... my great grandmother .... I'm pretty sure you know why no picture is here.

This is what I learned from these wonderful people

Measure three times, cut once (papa, Paul, mom)

Don't limit your aspirations (grandma, mom, paul)

Mice matters (grandma, grandmother, mom, also Janet, Paul, Susan, Marvin.....)

Of course you can do it yourself! (papa, Paul, mom, grandmother, Marvin, grandma, great grandmother, Sylvia, Janet....)

beauty is worth the effort (Susan, grandmother (and no, we're not talking about makeup here, we're talking about amazing quilts and exquisite dresses)

sewing - mom, who learned from grandmother, who sewed all mom's clothes

knitting - Grammy dot, who I never saw knit

crochet - grandma, who learned from her mother, whose hooks I still own.

carpentry - papa, who gave me my own tool box when I was 12, and Paul, who made it true that sawdust smells like home and safety.

electricity isn't scary - papa

electrical repair/lamp building - papa

plumbing isn't scary - paul

It's worth writing down the stories - Marvin

and the corollary - stories are important - Marvin, Paul

no project is too big if you take it in pieces - paul (the BOAT!)

good tools are worth the extra money now (papa - from his father, PD)

bad tools aren't worth the money at all (papa)

using the RIGHT tools can make all the difference (papa)

size matters (papa and his dining room table)

just a little shift into the wind can make all the difference - Paul

save that - it might be useful - Papa)

corollary -- you probably don't need to go buy something just for this purpose, when you have that collection of string, screws, boards, needles, fabric .. in the shed/basement (papa/pd)

do a little every day and you can achieve amazing things (Paul)

just because you don't do it that much doesn't mean you can't teach it if you know how (Grammy Dot)

we don't need no stinkin' pattern! (great grandmother, who crochet amazing and large doilies out of barely visible thread with no pattern)

 

And so very much more.

Thank you -- to my parents, and their siblings and their parents, and their parents...

Progress - My theme for the month.

It seems that this year, I'm about progress.  Moving forward.  And, more importantly, acknowledging that even small steps count as progress.

I'm after progress -- not perfection.  I know that some of my "goals" are unattainable in the ordinary course of my life.  My house, for example, will not ever be 100% clean and tidy.  No way.  That's because people live in it. (Four two footed people, and two four footed people).  Between us all, and our insistence upon living normal lives, we perpetually mess things up.  Dogs and cats shed.  Humans dirty dishes, and wear clothes, and track dirt, and put things down and forget to put them away and...  well... LIVE.

That doesnt' mean that I don't try to get the house a little cleaner here or there.  Part of that is, having gone and become an adult and all, I realize that if one doesn't try to get the house clean, the house will become a vile pit all by itself.  A little work here and there every day keeps it livable.

So...  given that a lot of the progress I'm making is either tiny steps towards a distant goal, or perpetually undone by people living, how do I know I'm making progress?  You know the answer to this already if you've been reading this blog for any time...

I make lists.

And then, when I get something done, I cross it off the list -- allowing myself a moment for a Feeling of Accomplishment, and recognition that I made progress.

Six days ago, I made a list.  Over the course of those days, I added a few things here and there.  As of this morning, that list had sixty-one (61) things on it.  One of those things was a three part thing  and one of those things was a five part thing (I chose not to turn it into a sixty-four or sixty-nine thing list).  However, as of this morning, I had drawn lines through 23 of those things.  And... by the time I hit "publish" for this post, I'll be able to draw a line through one more.

I call that progress.

True, some things were tiny, but others took hours and hours to do.  Some things have been started, but aren't quite finished.  But mostly -- I note that I FINISHED twenty three of the things on that list!  That's more than a third!  Yay me.

And ... I accomplished a bunch of things that weren't even ON the list.

Progress!!!

I've now copied over the lingering 38 things, and have a new list.  I've added in new things, like you do), and even so, the new list is only 59 things.  And only one of them is a multi-part thing. (Okay, the one that says "clean out closet" is a huge one, but it's a much smaller task than "clean out and inventory the yarn closet".)

Some may see the net effect as being only a two item reduction -- but I see progress in those 23 drawn lines.  And I know that several of the things on the new list are specifically scheduled and will be done within the next 48 hours.

Progress.  It's an ongoing thing, and even when it's doing the laundry, it's worth acknowledging every load.

 

What is in a name?

In almost everyone's life, sooner or later, there comes a time when you are called upon to name something or someone.  Sometimes it's easy.  Sometimes it's not.

Bookworm went through a phase once where she named everything.  Sure, every kid names his or her stuffed toys, but she named instruments (not that uncommon), note books, iPods, pencils, .... everything.  (She did not, alas, offer up a name for the house.  I'm fond of named houses.... but that's not the point here.)  Naming came easily to her.  I envy her so.

Naming is not my forte.  When I named my daughters, I first spent hours (I could have earned a degree had I spent that time differently, I'm sure) poring over name books -- tasting them, feeling them roll across my tongue, chasing down their origins and meanings, putting them in combinations -- testing the combinations for sound and mood and definitions....  And in the end, I narrowed the names down to several, and waited for my daughters to "tell" me what their names were.

When new cats come into the house, I look at them, and contemplate the names that resonate with their appearances, but generally wait until their personality is clear before naming them.  I also listen to the cats.  They too "tell" me what their names are.  With the more recently adopted cats, I first listened to see if they were at home with the names they came with -- they were, and so we did not re-name them.

I am now faced with a new naming challenge.  

When I first started massage school, I figured out (even before the first day of class) what I wanted to name my future massage business.  But then, when we all dashed out and got free business cards to hand out at Community Outreach events (so that we could drum up "business" for the free massages we give as homework), I found that one of my classmates had also come up with that name.  She put hers on her cards.

I pouted for a minute, but figured that this meant one of two things:  we are destined to become business partners, or I'm destined to choose a different name for my massage business.  Either way, I had plenty of time.

Time's up.

Our new class is on business -- how to build a massage business.  While part of it is things like taxes and leases and financial statements, part of it is creating forms and pricing your work.  The forms themselves are easy for me.  But at the top of every form, in the middle of every business card, is one consistent thing that I suddenly find very challenging:  A business name.

Naming criteria may have something to do with this.  For a child, one wants a name that is not too pompous and cumbersome for a toddler or child, but not too babyish or wispy for a professional adult, while avoiding formidability.  It needs to last.  Depending on your preferences, it either needs to be happily abbreviated into nick-names that aren't offensive or belittling, or it needs to avoid lending itself to abbreviation.  It ought also to fit the child (like you can figure that out after 12 hours of labor when the child in question is seven and a half pounds of sleep or hunger).

For a pet, the criteria vary a bit depending on whether this pet is a free roaming creature or a caged creature.  With the caged animal, you needn't worry quite as much about whether when you call out this name across the yard/field/house the name is distinct enough to be recognizable.  Shouting out "Agamemnon Come..."  not nearly as effective as calling for "Rex".  Of course, this name should also fit the animal, but that tends to be easier when we do the naming (for all but pedigreed show critters/horses that tends to be 6-8 weeks, when they've starting coming into their personalities).

For a business, on the other hand, the name should be simple, memorable, and informative.  It should avoid weird impressions (especially in massage - one does not want to give the impression, ever, that one is offering services that are illegal in most states).  While it is true, now that I've looked at it a few times, National Fish Therapeutic Massage is a memorable name -- it's memorable mostly because one spends a while wondering what on earth Fish have to do with massage, and not because it seems relevant.).  They say that you should avoid using your name if you're a woman, just so that the creeps out there don't decide that the feminine name sounds alluring... or the strong professional name identifies a dominatrix.

So.  I'm back to naming my business.  I want to convey a tad more than just Therapeutic Massage since I will be doing energy work as well as standard Swedish stuff.  I'm already certified in Reiki (and am planning to get the next certification level soon), so I need to avoid a name that sounds too clinical, and yet I also need to avoid a name that sounds too "new agey".   I do relaxation massage, but I also do deeper tissue specific work.  (Is anyone surprised that I'll have a complex blend? Me either). 

So, here I am.... overthinking things to death, contemplating using other languages (like that will be comprehensible to the English speaking population that will represent 90% of my clients), and poking around in all sorts of places looking for the right name.  Meanwhile, my family keeps making wholly inappropriate suggestions, just to see me puff up and get all pompous about the importance of avoiding suggestive names.

What is in a name?  While it may be true that the rose would smell as sweet no matter what name we give it, the rose's name doesn't have to tell people who don't know who or what it is what it does.  And the rose's name need not inspire new clientele to trust it enough to risk the cost of a massage, while subtly and quietly telling those in search of an erotic massage that it's a complete waste of time to call.

Ain't it the Truth?

I recently heard someone talking about their day: it had been frustrating, and she was looking back on it laughing a little -- at herself.  She said that she'd realized part way along the day that what was going on wasn't as much that everyone else was making her life miserable, but that if she looked hard enough -- she was making herself miserable.

She then offered up one of those marvelous little sayings that can, if we let them, jolt us back into better perspective. This one is odd -- it's not a sweet platitude.  It's even kinda harsh:  The magic phrase?   "I'm so mad at myself that I hate you."

Yeah, I know, at first glance that makes no sense. But....

Think about it...

When you're behind some drivier who insists on driving the actual speed limit through town when you're running late, you get angry at that person.  It's really easy to believe that the other driver is somehow at fault for your lateness.  But, why were you in a hurry in the first place? Perhaps  because you dawdled at home,and didn't leave enough time to get where you were going.  Perhaps you got up late, or lost track of time.  But even if the reason you started your journey late is your own doing, you find yourself angry "at that person".  Road rage burbles, and you call the poor driver unpleasant names in your head (or out loud even). But ... if you looked closely enough, that person isn't doing a darned thing wrong.  In fact, if you look honestly enough, you'll realize that you're not, in fact, angry with the other driver.  You're angry with yourself, for not leaving the house on time.

oops.

How often do we snarl at others because we're disappointed in our own choices?

And how often is it because we made some choice without paying attention? 

Or perhaps it was a decision that we sort of let slide until the decision was made for us?  Heck, it can even be a decision that made perfect sense when made (and was indeed the right decision at the time), but which has had consequences that were neither expected nor intended.

I'm sometimes angry at my lovely daughters because they're not eager participants in the task of making and keeping our house as clean as I'd like it to be.  Clearly, they're making their own decisions day by day, but even though they're "almost grown," my behavior in the past still has a lot of influence on their behavior today.  So ...... let's look back at the WHOLE picture.

I, myself, am not the neatest person on the planet. (I'm sure you're shocked.) While I really do like to have my living room neat, and my kitchen neat.... (oh heck, I love it when the whole house is sparkling clean, and the wood furniture has that wonderful just polished glow, and everything is in it's place (or would if I ever got the whole house that way all at once) ...  I am completly guilty of leaving knitting projects and textbooks lying around (okay, clustered around the "nest" that is my knitting chair, but still.. not put away.) Thus, my choices (whether concious or not) of what to do with my own stuff hasn't modeled the behavior that I'd like them to exhibit.

Sure, I clean all my stuff up every time I have people over who aren't such close friends that I don't feel the need to make a good impression, but I don't maintain that area as neatly as I'd actually like it to be.  My choices have shown them to leave their books etc. around the living room.

I, myself, have not modeled really cleaning on a regular basis.  Oh, sure, they've seen me clean the kitchen after dinner; they've seen their father clean the kitchen after dinner.  But, as they grew up, they did not see me scrubbing toilets and cleaning bathtubs. they did not see me scrubbing floors either. Why? because I had the luxury of being able to afford people to clean my house for me.   That meant that they didn't grow up associating a clean bathroom with anything someone they saw actually DID to make /keep it that way.

In fact, other than getting them to participate in the daily job of cleaning up after supper, I didn't introduce them to the lovely art of doing serious cleaning chores until they were in their teens.  That was a choice.  It seemed to be a reasonable choice - after all, that choice meant that I didn't have to spend time cleaning a house instead of doing fun things with them, or working, or ... well.. okay or knitting. But, that choice means that they didn't grow up understanding at that level where we don't much have to think about it, that someone has to clean things up, regularly, if the house is going to escape falling into a state too vile to live in. 

And that, in combination with the fact that they're teenagers, means that they resist doing chores - they don't reliably clean voluntarily.  And they don't always clean as well as I'd like.

And I get angry at ---- them. 

Now, I'm not saying that they share none of the blame.... but it's about time I remembered that they don't own all of the blame.  I made choices too.  We all do.

 So, I'm going to try to remember, when I start feeling angry with other people -- amd I angry at myself?

Words to Live By - Progress, Not Perfection

I have some friends who are in twelve-step programs.  Every once in a while, we talk about the things they're learning and/or talking or reading about as part of those programs.  It turns out that, in addition to the 12 steps (which define a path for the recovering person to follow) you all hear about, there are traditions  (which govern how the groups work).  And, there are little phrases and acronyms that help people get through a myriad of situations.

The more I hear about these catch phrases, the more I think that everyone could use them too. They apply in so many situations.  The one I'm thinking of today is Progress, not Perfection.

I see it everywhere.  This morning, for example, I came to my knitting chair, where I'd left Dwarrowdelf resting peacefully last night, and picked up my knitting only to find that a good 4 inches worth of the stitches had slipped off the needle.  Why?  Perhaps because I caved to laziness and had stopped mid row, making it harder to slide the needle tips far enough away from the end to protect the project from just such a mishap.

I was annoyed with myself.  I was mildly frustrated at having to pick up all those stitches.

And then, I was reminded of just how much progress I've made in knitting.  I clearly remember the days when this would have felt like a disaster!  When getting the stitches back on the needle would have felt like an all but insurmountable challenge....  And now, it's a mild annoyance.

Sure, in a perfect world, I'd never drop a stitch, much less let dozens just fall off the needle. But this isn't a perfect world.  My knitting (and my responses to it) show progress - not perfection.  And I'm thrilled with the progress.  Perfection is for machines.

I see it in my house.  My family room "looks lived in."  On the coffee table, in addition to the candle that ought to be there, is a text book, a catalog, a novel that the reader finished last week, napkins from the pizza two nights ago, a skein of yarn, a magazine, a set of speakers that would work with the iPod if we could find the controller (and hooked it up to the base that is upstairs).  The table next to my chair has no room for the coffee cup I'd like to rest there.  There are at least two pair of shoes on the floor -- and what used to be a stack but is now sort of a spray of paper from my notes. There are two empty water bottles and a random screwdriver on the side tables (nestled among patterns, yarn, notes, and a camera.

However, there are no DVDs lying about in the hopes that someone will find their cases.  There are no empty DVD cases.  There are no empty cups or glasses.  There are no plates.  Miraculously (what with the cat's penchant for hauling socks around), there are no socks on the floor.

Weeks ago, I'd say it was a disaster area.  It's so far from perfect --- but it's not as bad as it has been (many times).  And I'm not as stressed about it as I have been in the past.  Both of us are showing signs of progress -- not perfection.  But I'm okay with that.  Perfection is for Stepford Wives.

I see it in my parenting. While I may not have become the calm, reasoned, compassionate, understanding yet firm mother I strive to be, I have become calmer.  I have become better at not taking everything personally, so that when my wonderful teen daughters are -- well -- teenagers, I can resist lashing back when they lash out. When they make mistakes, or push limits well past acceptable boundaries, or get their Entitled hats stuck on too firmly, I don't yell at them in anger.  Do I still get angry, definitely! Do I still raise my voice, sometimes, but not every time... and that's progress.  Do I still feel hurt from time to time, you betcha.  But ... I also feel more understanding, and am more able to step back long enough to say things like "let me think about that" before reacting.  I'm making progress.  And I doubt I'll ever be perfect.  Perfection is for robots.... and except for Andrew, robots tend not to have feelings.  Since once can't be a perfect mother without feelings.....

Progress - is about getting closer and closer to a goal.  Any goal.  Even a repeating goal (like, say, having clean laundry).  And if every day, I made progress on some front, then I'm doing good.  I'm getting closer to some goal.

Perfection seems to mean being in a place where you have no goals to strive for.  B-O-R-I-N-G!!!

I think I prefer progress.

 

Cutting Myself Some Slack

I was reading blogs (no, seriously, I actually found time this mornng to read a few blogs!) and found this over at The Seated View:  she had recently written that

"Believing you’re indispensable is the first sign of an impending nervous breakdown."  

In this particular blog post, she wrote:

"I have discovered it has a corollary. Believing everything on your list is absolutely crucial is the first sign of an impending physical breakdown."

Two little sentences that have given me a meals worth (or three or four) of food for thought.  I'm going to let the first statement simmer for a while longer.  Mostly, that's because I want to talk about the second one.  It ties into something I've been thinking about and working on lately.

But first, a touch of background:  I have long struggled with two things.  1)  I am a perfectionist; and 2) I am a procrastinator.

They are related.

Because I am a perfectionist, I don't want to start a project unless I'm sure I can get it done perfectly ... so I wait to start things.

Because I'm a perfectionist, I have a hard time admitting that anything is truly finished unless it meets my insanely high standards.

Because I'm a perfectionist with insanely high standards, I fall into traps where I take on far more than my share of things to do, because I want to be sure they're done to my standards (sometimes, even I can't meet those standards, but often the reason others can't is because I don't articulate them).

I like to think that another reason I take on too much is that I am only intermittently conversant with the words "no" and "I'm sorry, but I can't" or even "I'm already scheduled for something then".

And... despite my awesome ability to procrastinate (and please note that while typing this, I'm procrastinating -- delaying doing something for school that I ought to get done), I'm impatient!  When someone else is "supposed to" do something, I want them to do it right now.  This soon translates to me feeling as though it's important that it be done right now.... and that gets me in to doing it (or taking on the obligation to do it) so that it gets done on my schedule.

What does this have to do with that list?  Well, what with the needing to do it all myself to be sure it's done right, and the inability to say no, and my needing things to be done right now, I seem to accumulate a list of things to do that is impossibly long.

I also put things on it that not only could be done by others, but should be (for example, vacuuming when my shoulder problem is flaring up).

So... believing that everything on my list of things to do is absolutely crucial is not healthy for me. 

That belief leads to mental and physical breakdowns.

Physical, because I do things like vacuum when I should be resting (or even icing) my shoulder, and/or stay up well past my bed time to get things done.  The result -- I'm not well rested and I'm in pain. Duh.

Mental, becasue if everything on the list is crucial, there's no way to prioritize it!  I don't know about you, but I find it difficult to do even a half-decent job at anything when I try to do three things at once (enter the challenge of being a perfectionist).  And if everything on the list is priority one (because, well, it's crucial), then I have to do them all first.  Can you smell the circuits frying?

This concept ties in with some very simple things I've been trying to keep in mind lately:

Each of us can only do the best we can do on any given day. 

Not only that, but

Each of us can only do as much as we can do on any given day.

And while I try to hold those things in my mind, I also try to remind myself that the best I can do on day one is not going to be the same as the best I can do on day two.  I can't do as much when I'm tired, or sick, or hungry as I can when I'm alert, happy, healthy and well (but not over-) fed.  (Furthermore, this applies to everyone around me).

Of course, that goes along with the concept that if I do the best I can do every day, and with everything I do, then I need never look back with regret.  Those tenets are not ways to let myself slack off; they're ways to remind myself that ... well...

... not everything is priority one, and that it's okay if things aren't done perfectly (after all, a shoddily vacuumed carpet still has less cat hair in it than an unvacuumed carpet), and it's okay if it's not all finished today.  After all,

"Believing everything on your list is absolutely crucial is the first sign of an impending physical breakdown."

Opportunities to Choose

In January, among the chaos that was ShadowLand, I started a program of introspection.  Through this program (which is guided in part by books full of "meditations", books full of questions, meetings with other folks who are also going through similar programs, and one person who is guiding me), I'm learning a lot about myself, and a lot about ways in which I used to do things (or still do things) and/or think about things actually made my life harder than it needed to be.

I'm starting to listen for little life lessons in things people say, or things I read.

Yesterday, for example, I came away from a conversation realizing that every time you encounter a situation where your initial reaction is to become upset, and thus leap energetically into an argument, you have an opportunity to CHOOSE what you actually do next.  You can choose to leap, you can choose to stay quiet, you can choose to walk away. 

Not that this is easy, mind you.  When a teenaged child pushes one of your buttons, it's really hard to stop and say to yourself:  "AHA! An opportunity to behave in a calm, rational, compassionate, SANE manner!" (or even "aha, an opportunity to go ballistic").  BUT, I figure if I can start to register that I'm being presented with an opportunity to go ballistic, then I can start to choose not to take that opportunity.  After all, just because I have the opportunity to do something, doesn't mean I'm obligated to do it.

No, seriously.  I mean, think about it. 

Just because the store is providing you with an opportunity to buy 10 loaves of day old bread for $6.00 doesn't mean you're obligated to buy them.  And if you're as confident as I am that were you to buy ten loaves of bread all at once, at least eight of them would be moldy before you could eat them, you'd more than likely decline that opportunity.

Just because the car dealership is offering you an opportunity to buy a brand new gas guzzling BMW X5 SUV (12/15 mpg) for a mere $50,000.00 instead of the usual $85,000 doesn't mean you're obligated to buy it.  Your gasoline bill would match anyone else's car payment -- and we don't even want to discuss the insurance premium.

Just becasue you are given an opportunity to try meth, or partake of any other recreational pharmaceutical doesn't mean that you have to do it.

Just because you are given an "opportunity" doesn't mean it's something you want to do.  And that means the you can take that opportunity to say no.  And that means I have the opportunity to be kind, or calm, or.... even when my initial reaction is defensive, angry or hostile.  Not that this opportunity currently provides a large window of time in which to make the choice.  Sometimes, old habits and freshly awakened emotions run roughshod over delicate new opportunities.  And that means that I may not be able to make that choice every time.  But for today, I'm going to try to be aware that the opportunity to choose exists.