Distraction and a counterproductive life...

The other day I left the grocery store with a basket full of delicious food, walked to the parking lot, opened the back door and place my groceries on the back seat, then open the front door, got into the car and suddenly felt like something was different. I looked at the particles of dried grass and dirt on the floor mat and wondered where they had come from. Then I looked at the cup holder and there was a can of an energy drink that I don't drink snuggled in the compartment. It all kind of happened in slow motion...I realized that I was in the wrong car. I jumped out and hoped that no one would see me, especially the owner of the car of which I had just taken temporary ownership. I looked around in a stunned daze and noticed another car, identical to the car I own but not assuming it was mine, grabbed another basket, yanked my groceries out of the back seat where they were erroneously stored, and shut the door. I cautiously walked to the next car and hit the button on my key to unlock. Fortunately all of my lights came on, I quickly unloaded my cart for the second time, calmly walked to the basket corral in the parking lot then made a beeline for my car and drove away as if nothing had happened. The first car I had opened was identical to mine, same color, model, year. As I drove away I found the experience hilariously funny, but upon more pondering I wondered how many times I have been distracted lately. Distracted from returning a phone call, remembering a birthday, or taking care of myself. In my job there is no room for error at all. I could potentially harm someone seriously if I was distracted. But in my life outside of my job, there is plenty of room for improvement.

So as I moved through this thought I thought of how many times I was just not paying attention. Not listening completely. Not being completely present for another, or just not showing up for myself at all. I thought how not returning a phone call from a friend, or missing a birthday that I knew was coming up that now has passed made me feel. It doesn't make me feel good. What was distracting me from the moment? By short changing another did I short change myself? I can reframe each memory with the fact that my timing is always perfect and elegant, but is it really?

Completely caring for myself means paying attention, loving each moment, living in the present. OK, I've got my own attention now...So today, the message is, other than remember to always lock your car so some unsuspecting person doesn't load her groceries into the backseat, is that for me, distraction is counterproductive to living a full life because I don't like the feeling it generates when I'm not paying attention. So , today I love my body more than distraction...

XO,
Karen

The Shift from Why to What According to Me....

I recently discovered a great blog that is centered around positive thinking and as I was voraciously devouring every word, it became so clear to me that life consists of a running commentary in our heads. Part of that commentary is acknowledging the "why" and moving on to the "what". By that I mean that I have reached a point in my life that the "why" doesn't matter as much as the "what."

See, when I'm in the "why" mode, "why did this have to happen to me?", it is so easy to remain in a victim role. It kind of falls into the "if only" someone wouldn't have done something, said something or contributed in anyway to the situation I currently find myself in, that allows me to not take responsibility for my own feelings. It also allows a very convenient excuse for not getting myself out of the current situation. It is someone else's fault. I have the luxury, if only momentarily, of getting off completely free from taking the responsibility of accepting my own thoughts. Then I have to weigh the reward...is the reward of giving away my power by not accepting my own responsibility greater than the reward of accepting responsibility and ultimate control of my life and my thoughts? Is taking a stand and changing the thought by moving forward into a possibly unknown outcome exciting or too terrifying to contemplate? Personally I find it exhilarating to think about what will happen to spur me to grow out of my comfort zone. A challenge. Yum.

By moving into the "what" mode, it is the complete ownership of the acceptance that I have made lemonade out of the lemons I have not only created, but the realization that I created the tree that grew the lemons in the first place (with the grateful nod to Davin for that one). If I take responsibility for my thoughts that lead to my actions, I strike a match to the trajectory of my life to ignite the jet fuel to rocket me forward into the best possible situation and the growth that comes along for the ride. I made the bargain with myself and the Universe that I would live the best life possible, and by doing that, I take myself out of the victim role (the "why" mentality) and move fearlessly forward armed with WHAT as my guide. See, the "why" doesn't matter. It is only the actions I take that propel me forward that are worth the contemplation...What is my next delicious pleasure? What will I do today that will change my life in a positive way? What can I bring to the table that is meaningful?

So the lesson for today is that I don't have to know the why anymore...I only need to know the what. Today I love my body more than why...
XO
Karen

A few words about vanity...

I made a comment the other day about our new uniforms at work and how I was unhappy with the color but it did bring out the blue in my eyes. With a wink and a smile I was told "you're so vain." While I was a little surprised and wondered about the intention of the comment and how it was completely uncalled for, it did give me pause to think about the difference between self confidence and being vain. It also reminded me that my father used to do that to me to "knock me down to size" when he thought I was too full of myself. My self confidence withered as a child when it would have been appropriate to have been nurtured. I can remember a time in the not way distant past that this would have had the same effect on me and I would have withered at the words of another.
It has been a process to unwind the old tapes that have played in my head and live fully in the new ones that are singing there now. When I think about the word vain, it has mostly negative connotations. Narcissistic, self centered, self absorbed, snooty. Merriam-Webster defines it as having or showing undue or excessive pride in one's appearance or actions. I have blue eyes. Fact. The blue color of the uniform makes my eyes appear more blue. Fact. Is stating a fact about myself a demonstration of conceit? I don't think so. I believe women especially are taught not to brag, not to celebrate achievements openly, not to look in the mirror and appreciate, within earshot of others how absolutely fabulous the reflection appears. I recently ordered a red dress online and when it arrived I tried it on and looked at myself in the mirror. I was stunned at how great it fit, how incredible I looked in it and how the color was absolutely perfect. It hugged my curves like a Ferrari on a test track. Fact.
This is all part of the journey of learning and loving myself fully, appreciating every inch of myself from head to toe, celebrating and owning the way I look, behave, respond, and feel about myself in all situations. Letting myself be affected by the judgment of another is so old news. Is being self confident in my appearance only appropriate if I keep it to myself? I don't think so. I love to share my pride with my friends, just as I love to hear the pride they have in themselves. I think there is a mighty difference between pride and self confidence and vanity. The difference is in the attitude. Taking on the judgment by others is an old garment that doesn't fit me anymore. Even if it is done with a wink and a smile. A dig is a dig, regardless of how it is packaged. Today, I am gratefully reminded how easy it is to hand my power over to another and I am deliciously reminded that I love my body more than allowing others to label me...I'm going to go try on that dress again...
Have a fabulous, stunning day,
XO,
Karen

Loving my body with a Pleasure Infusion

I was asked a question by a friend today...Why is it so easy to see the beauty all around and so difficult to see the beauty in ourselves? My take on the whole thing is that we are so bombarded by negativity, and we take the easy road of tolerance just bobbing along in the river of our lives. It is easy to bob along, wanting a better life but not willing to stretch to get it. Playing the hand we are dealt, wondering like the old song "Is that all there is?" Changing myself will take too much time, I don't think I can do that, or the world famous, totally stuck in the muck statement "that's just the way I am." Well, does the way you are work for you? Do you truly desire better, or are you completely satisfied being the same, believing your life will be better when the kids are grown, when you lose 20 pounds, or when you have a boyfriend? Maybe your life will be better when you have a new house, a better wardrobe, more money or a better job. Yes, more money would make things better. Really? I disagree. I believe you have every thing you need right now because the life you have is the life of your own creation. Yup, you created your pleasure, your pain, your joy, or your sorrows. The trick is what you do with them. Do you celebrate you? I do. I dance. I sing, I write. I go to work and I do the best I can for 12 hours. I have the desire to choose the best for me. I care for myself like I would care for a child. I admire my body in the mirror. I love myself up from the tips of each strand of my blonde hair to the red polish on my toenails. Especially when I'm not feeling good about myself. Then it becomes required that I spend extra time with me doing pleasure homework. I light candles. I take deliciously scented bubble baths. I put on my favorite music. I take a nap. I surround myself with positive energy. I don't watch sensationalist news, or read the paper or watch CSI or Law and Order anymore. I am busy stuffing myself with pleasure and I don't have the capacity to tolerate the negativity right now. I don't believe I have missed anything that I should have known that would have changed my life. A pleasure centered life, that centers around my own pleasure, is the life I am choosing right now. It is a conscious decision, a conscious choice to live a life of self love just as it would be a choice to live a life of apathy or indifference. Some days it is more work than others, but I know that during those times when I am feeling out of balance, it becomes critical that I journal gratitude, that I look at myself in the mirror and blow myself a kiss. A cup that is overflowing with pleasure and happiness is finally able to spill over to others because I'm not working on vapors of happiness that I used to have, remembrances of a body I used to have, or a lover that has moved on. I choose to find the beauty in just being me, exactly as I am, occupying this space today on the planet. Even down to the blue spider veins in my legs--they are the roadmap of my 55 years on this planet and they are beautiful. It is my full time job to find the beauty in myself...and I love my job....Today, I love my body more than the life I thought I desired, because I realize the life I desire is the life I am living. Blowing you a kiss, Gorgeous. God, you look so hot in that dress...Really. So hot...
XO,
Karen

Living a Life of Gratitude

I have wielded the power of Gratitude through the years righteously but not as specifically as I have done over the past year. I have learned over the last few years that gratitude, when applied liberally can shift even the worst into more than tolerable, it can even move it as far as desirable. I woke up to the sound of neighbors trying to chip ice off of their car at 6 this morning and when I looked outside to see who was making all of the noise when I was trying to sleep in, my first thought was "Geez, I'm glad I'm not them" and then I crawled back into bed. Through my life I have been thankful for what I was not...homeless, in a bad marriage, left in the miserable state of no sense of humor, or chipping ice off of my car on Christmas Eve at six in the morning...along with a million other things. It has always left me with a feeling that I wasn't living a life, I was constantly dodging bullets. This feeling of gratitude was disingenuous. I wasn't grateful for me, I was grateful I didn't have the misfortune of being someone else.
Today, I express my profound gratitude for what I am. I am funny, I am smart, I am creative, I am empathetic, I am a bad ass (in the most loving way) I am daring. I am loving, I am cute, I am passionate. I am real, I am honest with myself and my emotions, I ride the highest highs and the lowest lows and I come through with grace and perfection. I am strong, I am fit, I am hot. I am mushy on the inside, I know where I stand. I am brave, I am curious, I am sassy. I am totally in love with myself. I am a little crazy around the edges. I walk straight and tall. I am a complete woman. My challenge to myself is to look at the bountiful gifts that surround me, become me, and belong only to me. Today, I love my body with such amazing gratitude for being me, in all of my wonderfulness! Happiest of Holidays to you,
XO,
Karen

Breaking the addiction to lack...

I am amazed at the ease at which I am sailing through the holidays, decorating, singing, dancing to Jingle Bells. This year I made the conscious decision to embrace the holidays which usually send me looking for a helmet and diving for cover, praying for January 2nd to roll around. My family is so fractured and instead of the close gatherings, present exchanges, carols sung by the choir, we kind of all just go along on our own way without much acknowledgement or celebration. When I was growing up in a large family, Christmas was a time of great excitement, mountains of presents under the tree and so much fun preparing a huge dinner. When I moved away, we planned Christmas around schedules, my brother coming from Alaska, one of my sisters from Phoenix, me from Florida, and Christmas often came on days other than December 25th. The efforts were made to keep Christmas intact and that was good. I think the major shift happened when my father died in 1993. The tradition of Christmas changed, my mother caught in grief decided to travel to Chicago to visit me. It was the first Christmas I didn't go "home". My sister and I didn't creep up the stairs to see what Santa had left in our stockings. We pasted Christmas together anyway, and I remember it fondly, but it was different. Holidays are times when it is so easy to jump into old memories that are filled with the wonderfulness of what I "used" to have and don't have now. Why is it we are so addicted to lack? What we don't have, what we didn't have, what we will never have or what we have lost? I think as a society we are focused on so much negativity it spirals us down to the depths of despair. It is easy to become inured to the discomfort of living a negative life. I am recapturing my joy, making a conscious decision to love the life I am living and it is a good life. Being unhappy is uncomfortable because it no longer fits into my JOY filled life. Instead of wishing I was invited to a party, I am having one myself tonight, with fabulous women who bring such positive energy. Instead of feeling sorry for myself that I miss the traditions of Christmas, I am blazing the trail of creating new ones. I have invited my granddaughter and my mother to join me for brunch at one of the oldest and most historic hotels in Denver, that totally decks out for the holidays and it will be pleasure filled. I have decorated for the holidays, risking frostbite to string lights on my balcony. My life is good and filled with choices. I can choose to focus on what I lack, or I can joyfully jump into what I have. Daily. I live a joy filled life packed with gratitude. I have broken my addiction to lack and choose to celebrate the life I have. So today, and every day, I love my body more than lack...Happy JOY filled holidays to you,
XO,
Karen

Not a Numbers Girl

What an interesting week. My mother told me the other day that for the first time she felt old. She is 84 and rounding the corner toward 85. My mother lives in a retirement community and she frequently speaks of how cute the "little old ladies" are that amble around the hallways, offer up their free unsolicited advice, or just come knocking on her door to say hello. See, my mother is a little old lady and a really cute one, she just doesn't want to admit it. Nor do I, because if I admit my mother's age, then I have to think about my own and I've decided I'm not a numbers girl. I compartmentalize my life as a series of situational life circumstances and as I am looking at the fact that I have more years behind me than in front of me, I think about how age in the form of numbers has such significance. When you're born, you're judged first in hours, then days, then weeks and somewhere you become measured in months. Then somehow, according to a busy mother friend of mine, the time changes around twenty four months of age to two years. Then you can't wait to be five so you can go to kindergarten, then 10 because you're in the double digits, then twelve because that seems like life is moving along. Then you can't wait to be sixteen so you can drive, twenty one so you can legally drink alcohol. Then things start sobering up faster than you did on your twenty first birthday. You are looking at 30. Then 35, then the "BIG 4-0." Then society looks at it as downhill from there. There are boatloads of expectations that go along with being 40. That you will be settled, you will be married, you will have children that are looking forward to the same milestones you did. Sometimes life doesn't always turn out the way you thought it would, or sometimes the path you are intended to take is different than you dreamed when you were younger. When I was younger, I envisioned my life so differently than how it has turned out. The twists and turns have been devastating, uplifting, excruciating, exhilarating, and now I realize that the journey has been the life, not the other way around. The height of my joy is only matched by the depths of my sorrows, and it is quite a ride. I'm not measured by numbers, and I refuse to look at my life expectancy in years. My life is measured in experiences. In the amount of joy I can suck out of a given time frame. The pleasure I have on the plate before me. My life is just beginning. I am gloriously alive and that is all that matters. So the lesson for me today is that I love my body more than numbers...but for the record, I'm 660 months old...
XO,
Karen