Susan Miller is an Astrologer.
She has provided a free site, AstrologyZone.com, for many years now.
This is a phrase I copied one day.
It still resonates no matter what the day.
"In so many ways, astrological aspects build on each other over a lifetime.
We are not born new into each month, but rather, we bring with us all sorts of ongoing projects,
dreams, goals, relationships, and maybe a setback, into that new month, that we may still be thinking about.
The point is, we bring life with us into every month and the story of our lives keeps being woven into a magnificent tapestry."
Well put, Susan.
Always,
Nancy McEldowney
Monday, November 21, 2011
Wanting The Joy
Some of the things that happen to me now,
make me feel like I'm dieing.
I can't believe I have spent so much time crying.
I have mischief in my heart and I have always felt joy in my brand new starts.
So lately, I'm just not sure who this new me will be.
Can you see?
I'm pushing hard and fast to chase the ghosties out of my past.
I'm holding on for dear life.
I'm creating a new universe, if I might.
But is this me, I can't tell.
Can you see?
I've been looking in my books,
and I'm carrying stones in my pockets again.
Sometimes, the things that happen to me now,
make me miss being bottle-washer and cook.
Taking another backwards look.
This now was the maybe when, then.
Can you see?
Sometimes I can see.
Sometimes I am so strong.
Then I am surely stripped to me.
Once again,
all I have been, all I am, all I will be, is what you see.
Makes me weak to think today.
I guess I just still had these words to say.
I'm quiet now and I will be all day long.
Tomorrow I will be strong.
Nancy McEldowney
9/29/01
make me feel like I'm dieing.
I can't believe I have spent so much time crying.
I have mischief in my heart and I have always felt joy in my brand new starts.
So lately, I'm just not sure who this new me will be.
Can you see?
I'm pushing hard and fast to chase the ghosties out of my past.
I'm holding on for dear life.
I'm creating a new universe, if I might.
But is this me, I can't tell.
Can you see?
I've been looking in my books,
and I'm carrying stones in my pockets again.
Sometimes, the things that happen to me now,
make me miss being bottle-washer and cook.
Taking another backwards look.
This now was the maybe when, then.
Can you see?
Sometimes I can see.
Sometimes I am so strong.
Then I am surely stripped to me.
Once again,
all I have been, all I am, all I will be, is what you see.
Makes me weak to think today.
I guess I just still had these words to say.
I'm quiet now and I will be all day long.
Tomorrow I will be strong.
Nancy McEldowney
9/29/01
Random Acts Of Kindness
It feels like I have just been through another grand opportunity.
The simple phrase, "When preparation meets opportunity.....", keeps silently ringing in my ears.
I am not really sure how these things present themselves to me.
I just know that I was truly compelled to do it.
Just as I am compelled to tell you how this went down,
here,
now.
It all really began last weekend, when I gave myself just one yard sale to wander. Tight budget but we have to give ourselves fun, no matter how small the gesture.
I had a ten dollar bill and so that was my limit.
I looked around, as I stepped through the beautiful white wooden gate. The ancient, stone walkway was lined with a collection of kitchen cabinets that were to be installed, but that were now being re-sold.
The bank is taking the house.
She has to be done by today, Monday, at 9:30 a.m., because that is when they are coming to lock the place up.
Beyond the collection I could see piles of dusty treasures that someone just piled there.
Hoping to see people do the searching, for the home owner, the home owner was not getting enough in return for all this effort.
It was a train wreck and I just couldn't look away.
Last weekend I gave her that ten dollars for a beautiful pedestal sink.
It has a spot waiting by the hose out back. If you enjoy out door garden hobbies,
you need a sink out there.
At least, that was the first five.
The second paid for a rain shower head with sturdy hose and spray attachment.
I switched the spray attachment for the one I had before and replaced the three threaded connector that connects it all to the wall and each other. Wanted one similar to this for a very long time.
Wasn't a budget for it.
I promised myself to return to her to be useful. It looked like she was a little overdue for a random act of kindness.
I stopped by on Thursday, after I had done two clients.
I told her that I was just finishing my day and was passing here on my way home. I was tired and wondered how this tired person was doing. She smiled.
I told her I couldn't stay then but that I was coming Saturday morning, around 9 or 10, to work.
She looked at me almost from a stink eye but I told her I had no other motives than to be useful where needed. She smiled again and we agreed to see each other Saturday.
Fast forward to the day before yesterday.
When I arrived, she looked at me unsure.
I just told her I was there, "Paying It Forward".
I spent the whole day brushing and arranging and erecting, the yard sale , "departments".
Yard sale wandering people watched and roamed as I worked the stuff. The home owner and her family just kept bringing out things from the piles filling every space, every building on this property.
Hoarding.
I just kept selling and getting twenty dollar bills to the home owner. Soon she got a grin and worked better.
It takes so much out of a hoarder just to face each day living like that.
When the time comes to let go, the build up has grown into something bigger. The days have shaped and re-shaped the home owners' opinion of herself.
This was a Hoarder and I could see the pain of loss in her eyes. So tired she was finally able to part with things, but the original price always had to be discussed. One way to deal but not really productive.
I just kept reminding her that this is a yard sale. That this information doesn't necessarily apply here.
I told her I was proud of her and that this was almost over. She is close to the deadline and she will be walking away.
She admitted to me that now she could die.
She just turned to me and nonchalantly said,
"Now I can die."
She said that she didn't want her family to have to do this, after.
I could tell it was a comfort to her to have them there to help, now.
It's really a family thing.
I just know where my energy can help sometimes and here I was.
All the forward motion we all were creating in this woman's life and with every step she seemed to find a way to beat herself up over how it ever got this way. Unproductive.
Her brother was sitting on the porch at one point late the first day. He spoke loudly and said, "My sister is a hoarder"! Unnecessary harshness.
I shouted back, "Do I know her?"
Hoarders don't sell and give away and work through the junk.
This woman was being a warrior, not complaining very much, staying busy between moments of panic, and I was proud of her.
The day lead me as I created a place to work and sell. I forgot eating lunch but Dorothy gave me a big bowl of chicken chile. She had doctored up a can of Denison's chile and it was very good.
Just what I needed to work the rest of the afternoon productively.
I made my way home by 5:00.
Tired, grungy, proud of my day.
There is something to be said for, paying it forward.
After all that positive effort, I didn't have it in me to throw in with the, "Beat-up Dorothy Club.
That can be a family thing, too.
Sunday had a different flow.
Dorothy was more grounded, considering, and she had real information about the financial reality of renting a big truck and moving herself and her home to Pennsylvania from Nevada.
By about noon, she told me that the yard sale paid for the truck and enough gas to drive to Texas.
We were doing it and she knew it.
She would be looking stronger, then start getting that panic back. I would find her sitting,
bewildered and fretful.
Grand sons, three and five, kept her distracted with love and imagination for Gramma's toys.
Didn't cause much harm because we were in the home stretch now.
Her son and brother were rushing through, getting the truck loaded before dark.
Her precious things were so processed now that she could only hope she had saved enough to satisfy,
when she got to her new home.
Then she turned to me.
She wanted to know if I would like to return after she left, to scavenge.
I admitted that I had had a dream the night before where a woman had continued to shout at me, "But What Do You Want?!?"
She looked at me and said, "Do you mean like this? What Do You WANT?"!
Oh my goodness, that was the look on the woman's face and the sound of her voice!
We just laughed and I said, "Okay, I will tell you what could be useful to me and what I have no budget for".
You got it, she was wonderfully generous with me and she gave me 12 boxes of stone tile and a tile cutter. Also a small ceiling fan, a free standing mailbox and white baseboard to put in my living room. I think there will be enough tile to do the bathroom and perhaps a back splash behind the stove.
All a gift and treasured, it is so true.
Absolutely hoped for, while I worked, but never assumed to survive all the shoppers. Everything was at such low prices. Tells you something about the financial times when re-model product isn't scooped up at yard sale prices. Also, the tile was all I really looked at but her son had said he was taking it.
The fan is small, with a light and I haven't seen one this small at any price, so I was pleased.
The mail box, I have longed for these past five years. They are metal and ornate and free standing so my mail people don't have to climb my stairs to deliver. Way out of my budget, till now.
Just needs to be re-assembled and painted.
I intend to sink it into a five gallon empty paint bucket of cement. Then when it is set, the bucket comes off and the thing stands by itself, at the bottom of the steps. Think I should paint it black like the railing?
The tile is the real miracle.
Back in 2008, my bathroom floor almost fell through. The wood floor was so old and water damaged, over the decades. That plumbing and structural repair was big money for me to pull off.
The cosmetic parts have waited for funding, till now.
A friend who is coming to help install the tile told me that the cutter is worth so much, people usually have to rent them. She kept repeating that now I, "own", one.
Dorothy wanted me to accept some kind of payment but she actually gifted me in the things I long for.
Made my actions less like Charity for her.
Those generous gifts were Christmas early this year for me. I would have worked for these things if the offer had been made. All in all, this exchange between strangers has been perfect.
I would imagine they are still there now, getting what they can in spite of the locked doors.
Dorothy told me they intended to work all night, last night.
She said she would rather stay till Tuesday but she wasn't sure what the Bank would require of her.
Tough spot to be in, no matter any judgements you may contemplate silently, to yourself.
I have seen this before.
I have no opinion except perhaps the pity that wells up from time to time.
People are at risk of being controlled, simply by design flaws.
When, "things", are controlling us, it can take us apart in such deep places.
Why speak about it, why not do something about it?
I found an opportunity to act and I stepped up.
This post is partly about that concept but though the obvious is here before you,
I do hope to raise the other issue.
I shared with you the plan each gift Dorothy gave to me, has waiting for it.
She may have made those plans, too. The difference is that I will actually install these items.
They will not be stored, they will be used.
Hoarders collect to feel power in the world they perceive to be ,"their", world.
A habit of saying ,"yes", to themselves.
The habit reinvents the hoarders' personal landscape.
It does not create a positive outcome.
The hoarder is compelled to provide more, becoming reclusive with these things, out of shame over the resulting visual effects, of these habits.
I try to remind hoarders that by giving this stuff up to yard sale profits, they are helping so many people have a better quality of life.
They are improving the quality of their own lives by clearing and cleaning,
but also the sharing and the generosity toward yard sale buyers.
Positive energy on a very large scale.
We probably had two hundred people, just on Saturday.
There is one more issue here, to speak of.
Around 2:00 on Sunday, Dorothy told me that she needed $700.00 to drive that big truck,
all the way to Pennsylvania.
We were losing light from the threat of rain and the shoppers were slowing, holding cold hands in pockets. Not a promise of sales, I can tell you.
I started to tell people the truest point of this yard sale, more often.
That the homeowner needed at least $500.00 more, to get the truck to it's destination.
People are so good at heart.
We all know hard times and when the day was closing, Dorothy came to me to say that the last people had put something in her pocket, instructing her not to look till they were gone.
She told me that all day long,
she had been able to fight back tears, but that this kindness had finally made her cry.
The woman had slipped $200.00, in cash, into Dorothy's coat pocket.
The kindness of strangers.......
This experience pulled so many people together, and on so many levels.
All the laughter and appreciation that Saturday sounded like.
All the kindness and generosity from people only walking by for Sunday strolls.
All the united effort made by the family of this woman.
And the effort made by me, a stranger in her life, who knows the kindness of strangers.
I am someone who understands how that kind of generosity has made it possible for me to survive in this world, this country, this town.
Just "Paying It Forward".
Stepping up is worth it.
It is.
Always.
The simple phrase, "When preparation meets opportunity.....", keeps silently ringing in my ears.
I am not really sure how these things present themselves to me.
I just know that I was truly compelled to do it.
Just as I am compelled to tell you how this went down,
here,
now.
It all really began last weekend, when I gave myself just one yard sale to wander. Tight budget but we have to give ourselves fun, no matter how small the gesture.
I had a ten dollar bill and so that was my limit.
I looked around, as I stepped through the beautiful white wooden gate. The ancient, stone walkway was lined with a collection of kitchen cabinets that were to be installed, but that were now being re-sold.
The bank is taking the house.
She has to be done by today, Monday, at 9:30 a.m., because that is when they are coming to lock the place up.
Beyond the collection I could see piles of dusty treasures that someone just piled there.
Hoping to see people do the searching, for the home owner, the home owner was not getting enough in return for all this effort.
It was a train wreck and I just couldn't look away.
Last weekend I gave her that ten dollars for a beautiful pedestal sink.
It has a spot waiting by the hose out back. If you enjoy out door garden hobbies,
you need a sink out there.
At least, that was the first five.
The second paid for a rain shower head with sturdy hose and spray attachment.
I switched the spray attachment for the one I had before and replaced the three threaded connector that connects it all to the wall and each other. Wanted one similar to this for a very long time.
Wasn't a budget for it.
I promised myself to return to her to be useful. It looked like she was a little overdue for a random act of kindness.
I stopped by on Thursday, after I had done two clients.
I told her that I was just finishing my day and was passing here on my way home. I was tired and wondered how this tired person was doing. She smiled.
I told her I couldn't stay then but that I was coming Saturday morning, around 9 or 10, to work.
She looked at me almost from a stink eye but I told her I had no other motives than to be useful where needed. She smiled again and we agreed to see each other Saturday.
Fast forward to the day before yesterday.
When I arrived, she looked at me unsure.
I just told her I was there, "Paying It Forward".
I spent the whole day brushing and arranging and erecting, the yard sale , "departments".
Yard sale wandering people watched and roamed as I worked the stuff. The home owner and her family just kept bringing out things from the piles filling every space, every building on this property.
Hoarding.
I just kept selling and getting twenty dollar bills to the home owner. Soon she got a grin and worked better.
It takes so much out of a hoarder just to face each day living like that.
When the time comes to let go, the build up has grown into something bigger. The days have shaped and re-shaped the home owners' opinion of herself.
This was a Hoarder and I could see the pain of loss in her eyes. So tired she was finally able to part with things, but the original price always had to be discussed. One way to deal but not really productive.
I just kept reminding her that this is a yard sale. That this information doesn't necessarily apply here.
I told her I was proud of her and that this was almost over. She is close to the deadline and she will be walking away.
She admitted to me that now she could die.
She just turned to me and nonchalantly said,
"Now I can die."
She said that she didn't want her family to have to do this, after.
I could tell it was a comfort to her to have them there to help, now.
It's really a family thing.
I just know where my energy can help sometimes and here I was.
All the forward motion we all were creating in this woman's life and with every step she seemed to find a way to beat herself up over how it ever got this way. Unproductive.
Her brother was sitting on the porch at one point late the first day. He spoke loudly and said, "My sister is a hoarder"! Unnecessary harshness.
I shouted back, "Do I know her?"
Hoarders don't sell and give away and work through the junk.
This woman was being a warrior, not complaining very much, staying busy between moments of panic, and I was proud of her.
The day lead me as I created a place to work and sell. I forgot eating lunch but Dorothy gave me a big bowl of chicken chile. She had doctored up a can of Denison's chile and it was very good.
Just what I needed to work the rest of the afternoon productively.
I made my way home by 5:00.
Tired, grungy, proud of my day.
There is something to be said for, paying it forward.
After all that positive effort, I didn't have it in me to throw in with the, "Beat-up Dorothy Club.
That can be a family thing, too.
Sunday had a different flow.
Dorothy was more grounded, considering, and she had real information about the financial reality of renting a big truck and moving herself and her home to Pennsylvania from Nevada.
By about noon, she told me that the yard sale paid for the truck and enough gas to drive to Texas.
We were doing it and she knew it.
She would be looking stronger, then start getting that panic back. I would find her sitting,
bewildered and fretful.
Grand sons, three and five, kept her distracted with love and imagination for Gramma's toys.
Didn't cause much harm because we were in the home stretch now.
Her son and brother were rushing through, getting the truck loaded before dark.
Her precious things were so processed now that she could only hope she had saved enough to satisfy,
when she got to her new home.
Then she turned to me.
She wanted to know if I would like to return after she left, to scavenge.
I admitted that I had had a dream the night before where a woman had continued to shout at me, "But What Do You Want?!?"
She looked at me and said, "Do you mean like this? What Do You WANT?"!
Oh my goodness, that was the look on the woman's face and the sound of her voice!
We just laughed and I said, "Okay, I will tell you what could be useful to me and what I have no budget for".
You got it, she was wonderfully generous with me and she gave me 12 boxes of stone tile and a tile cutter. Also a small ceiling fan, a free standing mailbox and white baseboard to put in my living room. I think there will be enough tile to do the bathroom and perhaps a back splash behind the stove.
All a gift and treasured, it is so true.
Absolutely hoped for, while I worked, but never assumed to survive all the shoppers. Everything was at such low prices. Tells you something about the financial times when re-model product isn't scooped up at yard sale prices. Also, the tile was all I really looked at but her son had said he was taking it.
The fan is small, with a light and I haven't seen one this small at any price, so I was pleased.
The mail box, I have longed for these past five years. They are metal and ornate and free standing so my mail people don't have to climb my stairs to deliver. Way out of my budget, till now.
Just needs to be re-assembled and painted.
I intend to sink it into a five gallon empty paint bucket of cement. Then when it is set, the bucket comes off and the thing stands by itself, at the bottom of the steps. Think I should paint it black like the railing?
The tile is the real miracle.
Back in 2008, my bathroom floor almost fell through. The wood floor was so old and water damaged, over the decades. That plumbing and structural repair was big money for me to pull off.
The cosmetic parts have waited for funding, till now.
A friend who is coming to help install the tile told me that the cutter is worth so much, people usually have to rent them. She kept repeating that now I, "own", one.
Dorothy wanted me to accept some kind of payment but she actually gifted me in the things I long for.
Made my actions less like Charity for her.
Those generous gifts were Christmas early this year for me. I would have worked for these things if the offer had been made. All in all, this exchange between strangers has been perfect.
I would imagine they are still there now, getting what they can in spite of the locked doors.
Dorothy told me they intended to work all night, last night.
She said she would rather stay till Tuesday but she wasn't sure what the Bank would require of her.
Tough spot to be in, no matter any judgements you may contemplate silently, to yourself.
I have seen this before.
I have no opinion except perhaps the pity that wells up from time to time.
People are at risk of being controlled, simply by design flaws.
When, "things", are controlling us, it can take us apart in such deep places.
Why speak about it, why not do something about it?
I found an opportunity to act and I stepped up.
This post is partly about that concept but though the obvious is here before you,
I do hope to raise the other issue.
I shared with you the plan each gift Dorothy gave to me, has waiting for it.
She may have made those plans, too. The difference is that I will actually install these items.
They will not be stored, they will be used.
Hoarders collect to feel power in the world they perceive to be ,"their", world.
A habit of saying ,"yes", to themselves.
The habit reinvents the hoarders' personal landscape.
It does not create a positive outcome.
The hoarder is compelled to provide more, becoming reclusive with these things, out of shame over the resulting visual effects, of these habits.
I try to remind hoarders that by giving this stuff up to yard sale profits, they are helping so many people have a better quality of life.
They are improving the quality of their own lives by clearing and cleaning,
but also the sharing and the generosity toward yard sale buyers.
Positive energy on a very large scale.
We probably had two hundred people, just on Saturday.
There is one more issue here, to speak of.
Around 2:00 on Sunday, Dorothy told me that she needed $700.00 to drive that big truck,
all the way to Pennsylvania.
We were losing light from the threat of rain and the shoppers were slowing, holding cold hands in pockets. Not a promise of sales, I can tell you.
I started to tell people the truest point of this yard sale, more often.
That the homeowner needed at least $500.00 more, to get the truck to it's destination.
People are so good at heart.
We all know hard times and when the day was closing, Dorothy came to me to say that the last people had put something in her pocket, instructing her not to look till they were gone.
She told me that all day long,
she had been able to fight back tears, but that this kindness had finally made her cry.
The woman had slipped $200.00, in cash, into Dorothy's coat pocket.
The kindness of strangers.......
This experience pulled so many people together, and on so many levels.
All the laughter and appreciation that Saturday sounded like.
All the kindness and generosity from people only walking by for Sunday strolls.
All the united effort made by the family of this woman.
And the effort made by me, a stranger in her life, who knows the kindness of strangers.
I am someone who understands how that kind of generosity has made it possible for me to survive in this world, this country, this town.
Just "Paying It Forward".
Stepping up is worth it.
It is.
Always.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I Matter
One small voice in the world today.
One small place to share my loving ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
This old place seems too small for some.
Times I fret about what I haven't done.
Could be I am in the past today.
Leaves me hoping for the words to say.
Memories I have are just songs to sing.
Regrets don't fit in the grander scheme of things.
Better let my feelings ring to the other side.
Better try not to hide.
One small voice in the world today.
One small place to share my loving ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
Raised my boy here.
He makes me proud.
Shared it with my daughter and her contagious crowd.
Left my husband standing in the dust.
Found my strength in what I didn't trust.
I am one small voice in the world today.
One small place to share my bravest ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
Yes, I am one small voice in the world today.
I am one small voice in the world today.
I am one small voice and I matter.
I matter.
I matter.
Nancy McEldowney
11/9/11
One small place to share my loving ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
This old place seems too small for some.
Times I fret about what I haven't done.
Could be I am in the past today.
Leaves me hoping for the words to say.
Memories I have are just songs to sing.
Regrets don't fit in the grander scheme of things.
Better let my feelings ring to the other side.
Better try not to hide.
One small voice in the world today.
One small place to share my loving ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
Raised my boy here.
He makes me proud.
Shared it with my daughter and her contagious crowd.
Left my husband standing in the dust.
Found my strength in what I didn't trust.
I am one small voice in the world today.
One small place to share my bravest ways.
Some might say it doesn't matter anyway,
but I do.
I do.
Yes, I am one small voice in the world today.
I am one small voice in the world today.
I am one small voice and I matter.
I matter.
I matter.
Nancy McEldowney
11/9/11
Grumbles Not-Withstanding.....
Good morning good people.
I am back to share and I am hoping your days have been light and filled with joy.
I say this as I am reflecting on my day yesterday.
In observation of those around me, I couldn't help but hear the angst in the voices while we all made our way through, "the days before the full moon".
In my life, I have tried to respect the pressure we all feel as the moon cycles through our skies. It does not matter to me if you believe what I believe. It only matters that I respect this life and all it's ups and downs.
I am not referring to some spiritual experience here.
No, this is about Barometric pressure and what the planets can do to each other,
as they live the lives they live, in our Universe.
We are affected daily whether we respect that knowledge, or not.
The days before the full moon can resonate physically but most people, in my experience, do not understand why they are feeling a little off.
They only know that it feels harsh or achey or grumbley.
Many times in my years practicing my arts, I accommodate my elders more gently as the moon cycles.
They do not understand why I know they are hurting but are always grateful for my careful attitude.
Accidents, falls and rises in blood pressure are more common during the days leading up to a Full Moon.
I only smile and say, "If a butterfly's wings flapping can cause waves in the ocean, how far off are we to understand that the moon moving along in the sky can cause swelling and dizzy moments in our days?"
"We are all made up of so much water, surely the moon can affect us, on some levels."
They smile and we help where we can.
Enter the two men who stood on either side of me, at the Post Office.
We all waited our turn in line.
Both were easily guessed to be in their eighties.
Both were talking too loud for such an echo chamber of an office.
Both were complaining and almost shouting and really not making much sense to any of us who were sharing that space with them.
As is usually the case, I found someone speaking to me as if I knew him.
The first man just turned to me and loudly began to rant about the Government and how three employees working at one time was a real surprise.
He did not sound grateful, just ready to find an ear to listen to his complaints.
I calmly reminded him that this was not the Government but that is was a business.
The look on his face told me that he knew that.
I did not wish to engage more ranting but he was not done yet.
He then said,"Well, what do you do for work?"
I quietly told him that I took care of people his age, in this town.
This stumped him for a second but he asked me again and I could hear his voice echo so I spoke quieter and looked as calm as I could while I explained that I took care of people his age for a living.
Two a day, five days a week and I was not in the mood to stand there and listen to him grumble.
The look of confusion on his face told me that he was not spoken to, in this way, very often.
He just looked into my eyes and quietly said,".....five days a week?"
I said yes, and he tried to rant again, though quieter, about how the Post Office was considering closing on Saturdays and what did I think of that.
Again, I told him that I was not in the mood to listen to his grumbles and that all I could say was that everything is going to be okay.
I repeated, "Everything is going to be okay."
The puffing slowed and his confusion calmed as he realized he had just been handled by a very kind person who had no intention of listening to his probable habit of ranting in public.
The three women in front of us smiled quiet smiles as we all continued to move along in the lunch-time line that can often build and move along, here in our little Post Office.
The woman with the children was just getting her two year old to sleep on her shoulder as she spoke quietly to her four year old about standing close and not jumping up by the counter until it was her turn. The little one knew she had a sticker coming and was impatient but polite. Well done mom!
Then, another older gentleman came in and was on his cell phone, shouting into the thing like he was somewhere alone. His words were not G-rated and the mom soon enough had a two year old awake and fussing while the elder gentleman continued to curse about where something would just as easily be put where his sun doesn't shine. Really.
Yes, he was standing right behind me but I did not engage him.
The women and I exchanged round eyes as we all hoped this man would realize his voice was echoing through the room.
The first man who had finished his rant in front of us now seemed to understand that the ranting wasn't pleasing and he calmed himself, even more.
No one was made stronger by these two men.
The woman who was about to work with the first man who complained about her abilities could see that he was about to be her next client. It was obvious that she was made nervous by the thought.
Then the line caused me to be her next client and she was so gracious to me, she even took my hand and spoke so kind I knew she was telling me thank you for my effort in defense of the postal employees working as fast as they could, during the noon time rush.
Somehow, it all diffused and everything seemed to go very well for all of us.
Somehow, the quiet tones were more productive than the loud, disrespectful rantings.
Somehow, the whole thing drifted into memory as we all made our way to the Postal Employees who were just at work that day, trying to keep an income to afford the lives they fight for.
Somehow, I was glad I do what I do for a living because I understood that neither of these men meant anyone any harm.
I understood that they were used to being tolerated.
They were, both, only being themselves, in the world that they perceived was all that they have to work with.
I heard the man who felt he should be allowed to rant.
I calmly told him it was unacceptable, without insulting him.
The other man was disrespectful of all of us, especially the woman with small children who were treated to the education of his very colorful words.
No harm done but, have you been put in this situation?
If you have, it was awkward and you did the best you could, even if you ended up joining the rant.
I am sharing today because I feel this is another moment when we must remind ourselves that life is never what it "looks" like.
I truly believe that it is always better to remember we are all of us fighting something, on some level.
We should not turn on each other.
Calm is more productive.
Anger is contagious but calm is, too.
Anger gets the heart pumping but calm heals the heart and allows for the grins.
Here's to those grins, good people.
Be well on this beautiful day of a Full Moon.
I am back to share and I am hoping your days have been light and filled with joy.
I say this as I am reflecting on my day yesterday.
In observation of those around me, I couldn't help but hear the angst in the voices while we all made our way through, "the days before the full moon".
In my life, I have tried to respect the pressure we all feel as the moon cycles through our skies. It does not matter to me if you believe what I believe. It only matters that I respect this life and all it's ups and downs.
I am not referring to some spiritual experience here.
No, this is about Barometric pressure and what the planets can do to each other,
as they live the lives they live, in our Universe.
We are affected daily whether we respect that knowledge, or not.
The days before the full moon can resonate physically but most people, in my experience, do not understand why they are feeling a little off.
They only know that it feels harsh or achey or grumbley.
Many times in my years practicing my arts, I accommodate my elders more gently as the moon cycles.
They do not understand why I know they are hurting but are always grateful for my careful attitude.
Accidents, falls and rises in blood pressure are more common during the days leading up to a Full Moon.
I only smile and say, "If a butterfly's wings flapping can cause waves in the ocean, how far off are we to understand that the moon moving along in the sky can cause swelling and dizzy moments in our days?"
"We are all made up of so much water, surely the moon can affect us, on some levels."
They smile and we help where we can.
Enter the two men who stood on either side of me, at the Post Office.
We all waited our turn in line.
Both were easily guessed to be in their eighties.
Both were talking too loud for such an echo chamber of an office.
Both were complaining and almost shouting and really not making much sense to any of us who were sharing that space with them.
As is usually the case, I found someone speaking to me as if I knew him.
The first man just turned to me and loudly began to rant about the Government and how three employees working at one time was a real surprise.
He did not sound grateful, just ready to find an ear to listen to his complaints.
I calmly reminded him that this was not the Government but that is was a business.
The look on his face told me that he knew that.
I did not wish to engage more ranting but he was not done yet.
He then said,"Well, what do you do for work?"
I quietly told him that I took care of people his age, in this town.
This stumped him for a second but he asked me again and I could hear his voice echo so I spoke quieter and looked as calm as I could while I explained that I took care of people his age for a living.
Two a day, five days a week and I was not in the mood to stand there and listen to him grumble.
The look of confusion on his face told me that he was not spoken to, in this way, very often.
He just looked into my eyes and quietly said,".....five days a week?"
I said yes, and he tried to rant again, though quieter, about how the Post Office was considering closing on Saturdays and what did I think of that.
Again, I told him that I was not in the mood to listen to his grumbles and that all I could say was that everything is going to be okay.
I repeated, "Everything is going to be okay."
The puffing slowed and his confusion calmed as he realized he had just been handled by a very kind person who had no intention of listening to his probable habit of ranting in public.
The three women in front of us smiled quiet smiles as we all continued to move along in the lunch-time line that can often build and move along, here in our little Post Office.
The woman with the children was just getting her two year old to sleep on her shoulder as she spoke quietly to her four year old about standing close and not jumping up by the counter until it was her turn. The little one knew she had a sticker coming and was impatient but polite. Well done mom!
Then, another older gentleman came in and was on his cell phone, shouting into the thing like he was somewhere alone. His words were not G-rated and the mom soon enough had a two year old awake and fussing while the elder gentleman continued to curse about where something would just as easily be put where his sun doesn't shine. Really.
Yes, he was standing right behind me but I did not engage him.
The women and I exchanged round eyes as we all hoped this man would realize his voice was echoing through the room.
The first man who had finished his rant in front of us now seemed to understand that the ranting wasn't pleasing and he calmed himself, even more.
No one was made stronger by these two men.
The woman who was about to work with the first man who complained about her abilities could see that he was about to be her next client. It was obvious that she was made nervous by the thought.
Then the line caused me to be her next client and she was so gracious to me, she even took my hand and spoke so kind I knew she was telling me thank you for my effort in defense of the postal employees working as fast as they could, during the noon time rush.
Somehow, it all diffused and everything seemed to go very well for all of us.
Somehow, the quiet tones were more productive than the loud, disrespectful rantings.
Somehow, the whole thing drifted into memory as we all made our way to the Postal Employees who were just at work that day, trying to keep an income to afford the lives they fight for.
Somehow, I was glad I do what I do for a living because I understood that neither of these men meant anyone any harm.
I understood that they were used to being tolerated.
They were, both, only being themselves, in the world that they perceived was all that they have to work with.
I heard the man who felt he should be allowed to rant.
I calmly told him it was unacceptable, without insulting him.
The other man was disrespectful of all of us, especially the woman with small children who were treated to the education of his very colorful words.
No harm done but, have you been put in this situation?
If you have, it was awkward and you did the best you could, even if you ended up joining the rant.
I am sharing today because I feel this is another moment when we must remind ourselves that life is never what it "looks" like.
I truly believe that it is always better to remember we are all of us fighting something, on some level.
We should not turn on each other.
Calm is more productive.
Anger is contagious but calm is, too.
Anger gets the heart pumping but calm heals the heart and allows for the grins.
Here's to those grins, good people.
Be well on this beautiful day of a Full Moon.
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