Inside of Me

"Love yourself first, and everything else falls into line." Lucille Ball

When I was growing up, in my culture we were not taught to love ourselves. It was a non-existent concept. We were to love God, country, family and friends. But if someone would have said, "I love myself," we would have instantly labeled that person as arrogant and self-indulgent and maybe more than a little delusional.

Many of the problems we have personally, in our communities and in the world in general could be greatly improved if we loved ourselves. I don't believe we can truly experience love in its purest and highest form with anyone, until we first love ourselves. So many of us have such well developed inner critics that not only do we not love ourselves, it would be safe to say some of us actually hate ourselves.

So operating from a core of self-loathing, we go out and try to love others as best we can. We try to love while operating from a platform of hatred. Then we become frustrated and discouraged when our relationships go wrong, when it's not them. It's us. I have known some people who hated themselves so much that they got to the point where they didn't even want to love. Or to be loved by anyone else.

So how about you? Have you spent your life loving other people but never loved yourself? It's never too late to start to love that amazing person that you are.

Susan

"The Greatest Love of All" was written for George Benson by Linda Creed and Michael Masser.

I'd Be a Bulldog

If I was a dog, I'd be a bulldog
One of those really cute French Bulldogs with big bat ears
With a pink rhinestone collar and matching leash
And my name would be Monique or Justine or Yvette.

A bulldog, because I am tenacious
Because I hate to give up and I hate to let go
And I hate it when nothing I do can change a thing
And then I have to say good-bye when it isn't even time.

It makes me want to bark and yip and chase my tail
But I won't bite because (just like a real Frenchie)
I am sweet and not mean at all.
Biting doesn't solve a thing and if I become mean,
Well that means all the mean people win
And we can't let that happen now, can we?

I hate to give up and I hate to let go
And I hate it when nothing I do can change a thing
And then I have to say good-bye when it isn't even time

I want to hang on and I want to hang on some more
But I see that you have already let go, I see
That you are already gone.

Susan

Red

The photograph on the wall
Reminds me of a day I was too young to remember
A day when blossoms were on a tree
And the sun was shining brightly
And I was wearing my favorite color.

The photograph on the wall
Reminds me of a day we'll never have again
A day when you wore blue and smiled seriously
And I knew your love as I knew my name
And I was wearing my favorite color.

The photograph on the wall
Is so beautiful in its simplicity
And today is so sad in its complexity
And if I could change things, I would
But I still wear my favorite color.

The photograph on the wall
Shows me a different person
For today you are changed beyond all recognition
But I look at me and that is still my smile
And I shall always wear my favorite color.

Susan

Little Girl Wisdom

On a big, low branch of a very old tree
Sat a pig tailed girl with silent eyes
Watching and listening
Complete in her little girl wisdom.

She needed to learn how to tell time
And how to do fractions and how to drive a car
But what we needed to learn, she already knew
Complete in her little girl wisdom.

To speak the truth with love, one must be very brave
It would be easier to just stay silent
But what we need to hear, she is willing to say, a woman
Complete in her little girl wisdom.

I thought that we would teach her and I suppose we did
But I had no idea how much she would teach us
And inspire us with her honest bravery, for she is still
Complete in her little girl wisdom.

Susan

The Rock in My Pocket

The sun is warm on my face
The breeze flows around me
As I walk happily and quickly
On my way to somewhere wonderful today.

In my pocket there is a rock
It is small, not substantial enough to weigh me down
My hand strays to my pocket without my even knowing
And suddenly I realize my fingers are around it.

I had almost forgotten the rock was there
But somehow my hand remembers, I guess
My body knows what my mind sometimes forgets
That paths of light have pockets of darkness.

My hand leaves my pocket but the rock stays there
A small reminder of the dark sadness
As I walk happily and quickly
On my way to somewhere wonderful today.

Susan

Nothing Gold Can Stay

"Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay." by Robert Frost

A story in the gospel of John tells us of a blind man, one of the many people healed by Jesus. When they first encountered him, the disciples with inquiring minds wanted to know. "Master," they asked, "who sinned; this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus told them that no one had sinned. Not the man. Not his parents. "But that the works of God should be manifest in him."

This past week there has been much speculation as to what caused the sad downward spiral and death of Whitney Houston. It has been examined from every angle in the media, and I will confess that I have been keeping up with it much more than I usually do when it comes to these celebrity stories. As we talk about drugs and alcohol, the pressures of celebrity, her stormy marriage, it becomes very complicated. We want answers. As if that would change anything. As if that would bring her back. As if that would soothe the grief that her mother and her daughter are now enduring. I think the question we are really asking is, "Who do we blame for this?"

Last night on television a man who personally knew Miss Houston said, "There is plenty of blame to go around." On the one hand, he is probably right. But on the other hand, maybe it's not complicated at all. Maybe it's actually quite simple when we stop playing the blame game.

She was a golden girl, a woman with an amazing gift to touch our emotions with the sound of her voice. She generously shared the glory of her gift with us, and now she is gone.

Susan

When Love is Not Enough

She wrote, "I am so sad that love is not enough. I would have given anything for things to be different." After more than a decade of marriage, she and her husband are going their separate ways. She had asked for the divorce. They have no children, and they are being very reasonable about the financial aspects, so it is a very civilized and almost friendly split. Family and friends are shocked, because they seemed to love each other so much. Her mother refuses to speak to her. His mother cries constantly. If love was all that is needed to make a good marriage, these two would have it nailed. They still love each other, evidenced by the gentleness and consideration they are showing in the divorce proceedings.

We seem to want salacious details when folks break up. Was she cheating on him? Was he slapping her around? Did they no longer love each other? They had basic incompatibility on an important core issue, and it was never going to change. They had been in therapy separately and together. They had talked and compromised and modified their behavior, but at the end of the day, he could not change who he was, and she could not change who she was. They had come to the conclusion that for each one of them to find happiness and acceptance for who they are, they needed to end the marriage and move on.

You can be in love. You can want it to work, more than anything. Sometimes it simply doesn't. No villains. No heroes. Just two human beings who did the best they could.

Susan

"Anything, Anything" written by John Easdale

Your Greatest Ambition

"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." Helen Keller

It is always a delight when a text pops up on my phone from either of my newest texting buddies. Both bright and beautiful fourth graders, they are my grandniece and my granddaughter. When I was a kid, the adults who were a little awkward conversing with children would usually ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The other night my granddaughter texted, "Do you want to know my greatest ambition?" Well, obviously I did, and she told me about a new career idea she had. After a little back and forth on that she asked, "What is your greatest ambition?"

Isn't that a wonderful way to phrase the question? We all must somehow make a living, and it would be ideal to have our greatest ambition be something we loved to do, and the added bonus would be the pay check. Our greatest ambitions could also be hobbies, volunteering, travel, and I imagine the list would just go on and on.

Fourth graders totally understand that life is a grand adventure, that dreams come super-sized, and that even grandmothers have great ambitions.

Susan

The Citadel

"I was being called to surrender the very citadel of my self." Bede Griffiths

Every emotionally healthy person has boundaries. Every healthy relationship has them. Those who have been in dysfunctional relationships, for example, growing up with an alcoholic parent, understand the painful chaos of living without boundaries.

But what about when a boundary is more than a boundary? There are those of us who build tall, thick walls around ourselves. The walls are for protection, like the citadel in a medieval castle. It's meant to be the last line of defense. It's where those in danger can flee when being attacked. It's a bulwark, to keep us safe by keeping enemies out.

Those who have known the pain of no boundaries may go too far in the other direction and decide that in order to never be hurt again, a citadel will be the perfect way to go. The higher and thicker the walls, the better.

How many people stand outside the citadel of our selves? Loving people whose encouragement, wisdom and zest for life will show us things we've never seen and take us places we've never been? Until we surrender, we'll never know.

Susan

Super Bowl Sunday

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday, that unofficial holiday where Americans celebrate that uniquely American sport, football. It's a day of food and comradery and really creative television commercials. It's also a day where incidents of domestic abuse spike.

Picture this. They are fighting inside their mobile home. He is wearing a white tank aptly named a "wife beater." With a cigarette dangling from his lips and a can of beer in his hand, he bellows at his barefoot, pregnant little wife. She backs away to avoid yet another blow. It's a stereotype, my friends. This image distracts us from the reality of abuse. The reality is this: it's not always physical. It affects straight and gay couples. It respects no socio-economic boundaries. Women are perpetrators just as truly as men are.

Abuse thrives in secrecy and shame. We as a nation have failed to shine a bright light on it. We have failed to educate the public. We have failed to provide a safety net for those who need it.

Abuse is not about physical violence, although violence can play into it. It's about control. Abuse is cyclical. It typically has three components: 1. the abuse 2. a honeymoon period, with sweetness, apologies and improved behavior 3. a relatively calm period. Then it starts all over again, spinning in endless circles. Abuse is cunning. If the abuser were awful all the time, the victim would be gone very early on. But sometimes the abuser is really wonderful, and it's those times the victim holds on to. That's what pulls the victim in even more tightly. That's what really gives the abuser control.

I enjoy football. I learned to love it when my younger son played in high school. It is a violent sport, but I don't think all violence is bad. I am working tomorrow, but I will catch a little of the Super Bowl. The commercials are my favorite part. Wouldn't it be great if one of those commercials would be a public service announcement about domestic abuse?

Susan

Puzzled

"Arrange whatever pieces come your way." Sylvia Plath

He was brilliant with jigsaw puzzles. As I watched him work on a puzzle, I saw that he would look at some pieces and see that they didn't fit -- not yet. So he put them to the side for later. Then as he moved toward the completion of the puzzle, he would go back to those pieces he had set aside, and then it was time to add them.

I would no doubt improve my spatial skills by working jigsaw puzzles. However, up to this point I haven't done that. Probably because my inherent spatial skills are not strong, I have always found jigsaw puzzles immensely frustrating. Give me a word puzzle, and I am a whiz kid. Give me seemingly unrelated ideas, and I will fairly quickly find the common thread to have it all make sense. It's just the way my brain naturally works, I suppose.

In life, we sometimes will have something come our way that makes no sense. It doesn't seem to fit into our lives. Often it's frustrating, and sometimes it's painful. It may be a poor decision that we make, and we are left to live with the unpleasant consequences. It could be something beyond our control that comes in seemingly out of left field. I have lived long enough now to have experienced that many of these odd pieces, if put aside, will eventually fit into the big puzzle picture. I like to think of it this way: Sooner or later, if we want to, we will find a very useful purpose for those pieces. That all our experiences will untimately enrich us, if we let them.

I think the trick to staying happy and sane, is to not fight those pieces that don't fit. Just allow them to be. Set them aside, and believe that one day the time will come when they will fit into the big picture of our lives just beautifully.

Susan