“Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim.”

—Ovid

Translation: “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”

If I were the type of person that wanted a gravestone when I died, this would be what I would want written on it. All three of these things are useful: patience, toughness, and yes, even pain.  If anything, pain brings about both patience and toughness.  But is it possible to be too tough?  You become too hard and brittle and then you just break.  It is what it is.

Yes, this is so very true.  I try to remind myself of this every day.  Some days I’m better at it than others.

I’ve really gotten into Tumblr again lately.  I find it to be a great way to collect words and photos that speak to me.  I’d forgotten about it for a long time.  You can find my Tumbr blog here, and eventually I hope to make a separate page on this site to host my Tumblr posts.  For now, there’s a link to my most recent Tumblr posts on my sidebar.

It is possible for us to discover our own innocence and childlike beauty. Discovering the innocent childlike quality in us does not mean being reduced to a child. Rather, we become fresh, inquisitive, sparkling. We want to know more about the world, more about life. When our preconceptions are stripped away, we begin to realize ourselves—it is like a second birth. We discover our innocence, our primordial quality, our eternal youth.

—Crazy Wisdom by Chögyam Trungpa

Oh, how I love this! I try to cultivate my inner “sparkle” on a regular basis. I cart surf in grocery store parking lots , sketch (poorly) with colored pencils, dance (also poorly) to cheesy music while I cook dinner in my kitchen, and walk barefoot upon the earth when I can.  As a child, I wasn’t allowed to walk around without shoes on.  My mother always warned me that I’d “drive a rusty nail up my foot” if I did, and then I’d have to get another Tetanus shot. I lived in fear of shots, but I was mostly great at avoiding them.   I finally had to break down and get a Tetanus booster when I was bitten (by a human, not a dog) two years ago. My doctor asked me when I had my last Tetanus shot, and when I told here it was in 1976, I got a scolding (and a shot).

Growing up I had tonsillitis all the time. Really. Even in the summer.  I was on amoxicillin constantly. My mother would take me to see Our family doc, Dr. Rabasa, and every time he’d say to me, “Your name is not Lisa. Lisa is not a name. Your name is Elisabet.” I Think he said it just to get a raise out of me because each time I’d cross my scrawny arms and stomp my little foot, and then he’d laugh this big, deep belly laugh and tell my mom that “this is your fiery one” and that I needed an antibiotico.  About that time, his wife, who was also his nurse would pop her head in the door and say, “Rafael, that girl needs a shot”.  My eyes would get really big and pleading as I shook my head “no”.  99% of the time, it would work, and we would walk out of the office with a prescription in hand.  I still remember the taste of that medicine. It was pink and delicious.

Wow, off on a tangent much? 😉

Eyes sparkling, at the age of 2. They still do that, or so I’m told.

In the morning when you wake up, reflect on the day ahead and aspire to use it to keep a wide-open heart and mind. At the end of the day, before going to sleep, think over what you’ve done. If you fulfilled your aspiration, even once, rejoice in that. If you went against your aspiration, rejoice that you are able to see what you did and are no longer living in ignorance. This way you will be inspired to go forward with increasing clarity, confidence, and compassion.

I love that thought from Pema Chodron. My aspiration for a wide-open heart got obliterated this evening. My son is moving to his own place tomorrow, and he’s very excited. I’m excited for him. I offered to rent a small moving truck for him to make it easier. He said that he didn’t need it, as he could borrow his father’s truck. My son had all the logistics of it planned out, down to a timeline, because that’s how he is. Today Jefe (his father’s nickname) told him that he can’t use his truck tomorrow, but maybe he can Saturday. Sigh. Normally, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal. However, my son has had an entire lifetime of broken promises and shirked duties from his father. That man’s word is worthless, and I can’t imagine how disappointing it must be to be constantly let down by your parent. It angers me more than anything in this world to see my son hurt this way. And there’s not a thing I can do about it. That kind of habitual promise-breaking makes you lose your trust in people in general. I know that firsthand, because that’s what it did to me. It’s rare (and difficult) for me to ask for help because I just figure it’s a safer bet to do it yourself instead. It’s made me fiercely independent, but that can be exhausting sometimes.

I have the situation tomorrow fixed for my son, because that’s what I do. I’ve always tried to be as good as gold with my word, or break my back trying to do so. I know that doesn’t make up for the lack when it comes to his father, but I hope it sets a good example for my son and shows him that some people really do keep their promises. Maybe one day we’ll both be able to trust in that. 🙂

The good thing is that I do have the clarity to  stop and see why this makes me so frustrated. I struggle to find compassion for someone who hurts my child, but it know that someone who does such things is actually a very hurt and sad person himself.

A day full of conversation spent with an old friend is a day well spent. I needed her honest perspective. Sometimes you’re just too close to yourself, too much in your own head to see things clearly. I’m in such a better place, emotionally, physically, spiritually, than I was a year or two ago. But I still have things that I need to work on, and if I don’t, she’ll hold me to it.

“You will always be too much of something for someone: too big, too loud, too soft, too edgy. If you round out your edges, you lose your edge. Apologize for mistakes. Apologize for unintentionally hurting someone — profusely. But don’t apologize for being who you are.”

Danielle LaPorte

This reminds me of Carol Rossetti’s artwork. I especially related to this one:

For years I avoided wearing high heels because I was told the same thing (mainly but my husband). Ironically, growing up I thought that I was short. At 5’8″ I’m the shortest in my family.  Add a pair of three inch heels, and I’m taller than a lot of men and most women. I used to have trouble finding pants that were long enough. Oddly, the smaller the size, the shorter the pants were. I’m all legs. My son and I laugh because he’s 6 inches talker than me, but I have the longer inseam.

I know that some women hate high heels. That’s okay too. I think they have their place in my wardrobe and find them to be fun and sexy. I’ve always loved this image:

I mean, wow! Does that make me sexist? I don’t think so. Because a woman can also put on her jeans and hiking boots and stomp through muddy trails in the woods.  As Walt Whitman says, I contain multitudes. I can be any kind of woman I want. That’s the ultimate in freedom.