Bleeding Heart

I have been called a soft touch more than once. I cannot bear to see harrowed anguish on somebody face, let alone hear it in their voice or cry. Watching someone bleed or writhe in pain draws a physical reaction from me. I cannot help but do something, even if that something is pray.

I have always been this way. I was the toddler who soothed other children at the park, took pity on and played with vagabonds on city benches and who always shared. To this day if I am asked for small change on the street you get no judgement from me but you do get whatever coins I am carrying. I am no fool, but feel that pain, shame and despair should be alleviated if at all possible.

As such motherhood hasn’t been an easy road to walk for me. I am not sure it is for anybody. If compassion isn’t your strong suit, then parenthood will definitely change that. Not a parent? I have heard parenthood described as having your heart outside your body walking around under it’s own steam. From experience its and accurate description. It is as though they are still wired into your nervous system and you actually feel the child’s pain.

Knowing there is nothing you can do, or being intellectually aware that what you are doing is in the child’s best interest, doesn’t make it any easier to hear them crying or calling your name. Yes baby, Mummy is aware it upsets you. And for the record it does make my heart bleed every time you cry. I only hope you feel my love and forgive me one day. Now cuddle teddy and go to sleep.

No right answer

Life isn’t all rosy. I have front row seats at the moment to some awful melodramas playing out in the lives of my loved ones. Sometimes life is hard. The choices we are forced to make are harder;

How far are you willing to go for family?

How many times can you turn the other cheek?

How long can you keep your head buried in the sand before you are ready to face the fire that is coming close to burning your arse?

When is it advisable to run? How long do you stay away?

How much are you willing to change and sacrifice for love?

When is letting the other go a better option?

When do we decide to stop being victims of our parents and take responsibility for our lives?

How to react when someone changes the rules of the game?

How do you plan when you are on borrowed time?

How do you balance the needs of the other with your own?

How far would you go to protect a loved one?

The more I watch the lives around me the clearer it becomes that no-one has the answer. Everybody’s advice sucks, especially mine. We cannot know how it feels to talk in the shoes of another and we don’t want to know the deepest secrets of their heart. We may not always understand why people do what they do, but that isn’t our role. We are not here to judge, to assess, to evaluate, to blame, to make someone right or wrong. Our concern is to do what we must, as they do what they must. No more and no less. It gets muddy and confused and the lines blur. Nothing much we can do about that. No two will ever see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t in this together. Life doesn’t discriminate.

What I know for sure is that there is no right answer. There is just the choice you make at the time.

The damsel’s lesson

I am the first to criticize the ridiculous  Hollywood view of romance and love. It is out of control and totally unrealistic. The idea that a woman needs a man to rescue her from a ‘loveless’ existence is insulting and dare I say it well-meaning.

Stories are powerful. Very powerful. And there is a reason we are re-telling the same stories now that were told hundreds of years ago.

Oral history was once the way we learned of the world. Parables and allegories have been guiding us since our childhood. Since humanities childhood. Some stories are so powerful that almost every culture has a variation of the same theme. Stories and the players in these stories are so ancient, so integral to our lives, that they have become archetypes that we unconsciously breathe life into every day.

The nursery rhymes of today were warnings of yester-year. The  fairy tales of our childhood once taught what it meant to be a man and a woman. The stories of the Princess marrying the Knight that rescued her have some merit. Hold on. Before you take off my head with one bite, let me remind you that I am a (albeit failed) feminist at heart. There are literally hundreds of versions of this story, but they all boil down to this; his ability to remain unfaltering in the face of obstacles freed her, and in return her love sets him free. That sounds rather equal and honouring to me.

The age old drama doesn’t sound quite so ridiculous any more does it? It sounds almost evolved to me…

Lets look closer. The man of the story invariably demonstrates equanimity. THE most attractive quality in a man. You may say you look for a man who can make you laugh, or someone who is honest with you, and maybe you are right. But I say you would pick the man who holds the ground solid beneath your feet so you can dance to the beat of your own drum over a goofball or the guy who tells you your bum really does look big in those pants, any day of the week. I know I did. Not sure? Check out this song and tell me if you would not be drawn in by this level of dedication.

The man in this story is tested and is proved to be worthy. He has demonstrated, beyond the shadow of a doubt that he honours the lady, by setting about the quest. He has proven to be strong and grounded by achieving the quest and he didn’t have time to visit the whorehouse when he was slaying dragons or vanquishing the witches, so it’s a safe bet that he is a one woman kinda guy.

As for the woman she is essentially feminine. No by that I don’t mean weak, or feeble or a victim. I mean that she is magnetic. The rescuer is drawn to her, not for her achievements or actions, but for who she is. She is allowing and gracious and loving. Her heart is the rescuers prize and her love soothes the battle weary warrior.

The story of the damsel in distress is important and powerful. It is a way our fore-mothers reach out to us instructing us to shine our true self forth and to test the men who are drawn to it. And their advice is when we do find a partner who is as strong as we want to be free, that we love him with all we have.

So, Hollywood may bastardise it and hide its worth beneath makeup, special effects and poor story lines, but we continue to be transfixed because the integrity of the tale remains.

Why sweet gets you no where

Sweet gets you nowhere, because life takes guts.

Love, real love takes courage. The kind of love where you would crawl over broken glass for your beloved isn’t the result of sickly sweet SMS’s and bedroom eyes. Love is the result of accepting each other warts, skeletons, flaws and all. Warts and skeletons are gory things to witness and overwhelm sweet dispositions.

The career of your dreams won’t be granted to you with the puff of glittery Jeanie smoke. The career of your dreams stems from you being good at what you do. Natural talent or not, being really good takes practice and work.

Family, like everything else takes work. Ideally they will support you through think and thin and presumably you will do the same for them. This is work. Thin ain’t much fun. Sweet just won’t cut it.

Don’t misunderstand. Grace, being personable, being compassionate and composure are all qualities I aspire to. But unless our sweetness is based in a foundation of strength, tenacity and courage it is mearely a glamour. So if where you are going involves love, family or career sweet will get you no where,

Your heroes are fallible

Your heroes are fallible. Be they mythical, fiction or human they are flawed. Despite their flaws you saw something in them worth admiring. Herein lies the lesson. You too are flawed and you too are worth admiring.

One of the greatest influences in my life is just under 4 feet tall. Yet more than once she stared down (up) fully grown men, and won. She buried more boyfriends in the war (WW2) than I care to recall. She dared to date a black man when it was an excommunicable taboo. She raised 4 children and miscarried 2. She buried her husband after watching lung cancer steal his very breath. She did ‘men’s work’ during the week while the men were fighting WW2 and was chastised for wearing pants to church on Sunday.

I love her humility.

Her utter fearlessness.

Her bottomless compassion.

Her selflessness.

Her ability to be stronger than iron in the face of adversity and gentle as a lamb when some needs a soft place to fall.

Only she was diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer Dementia yesterday. Her humility and selflessness have evaporated she is always anxious and even curt. She barely registers the emotions of those around her and is oblivious to the needs of anybody but herself.

The tears streaming down my face now feel like a burning betrayal to the woman she used to be. Who would have told me not to waste my tears over something I can’t change. I am struggling to find the lesson in all of this:

Am I to understand what who we are and what we do is to some extent out of our control?

Am I to understand that there is inherent balance in the universe and we must all be selfless and selfish?

Am I to learn to love this new incarnation of her personality despite it all?

The best I can come up with is that our heros are fallible.

Life

It’s not always fair. In fact it rarely is. It favours the brave, the ambitious, the unencumbered, the blinkered and the tunnel visioned. So if you have loved ones, hobbies, are compassionate, have children, see the bigger picture beyond your wants – you have some tough decisions to make.

The ghastly thing about tough decisions (a.k.a big scary adult decisions) is that the pay off for bravely facing the hard truth and making a considered decision is… well, not much. These are the decisions you make behind closed doors, alone or with your partner. They aren’t broadcast on Twitter, they don’t become blog fodder and its not something you chit-chat about over drinks. Nobody pats you on the back for putting your family first, you don’t get a medal for walking away from a dodgy offer, no one gives you kudos for considering the consequences, being compassionate and doing the right thing.

The pay of we get for smiling through the tears, working our fingers to the bone, fitting yet more into an already overstretched work week or family budget, for passing up an opportunity in order to spend time with your kids, for taking a career break to work for Legal Aid, for supporting your partner in their dreams, for overseeing the care of ailing loved ones, for working 2 part time jobs to afford medical school? Your sense of self.

For those whose life will not be dedicated to setting the world on fire, founding charities or fortune 500 companies, for whom the sweetness of life will not be accolades, positive press, awards and making history, the pay off is something almost spiritual. To know your heart was big enough to love despite the sacrifices, to know you were humble enough to celebrate the small successes, graceful enough to smile through the tears and wise enough to see the meaning in it all.

A balanced heart

Balance in relationships is ideal. Everybody wants to be in a mature, loving, supportive relationship where both partners benefit equally. The dream goes like this; both people get their needs met, they get unconditional love, boundless support, brunches on Sundays, in-jokes, fond memories, a reliable plus one for obligatory events, someone to do the housework they hate, a cuddle on the couch and a warm body in bed.

Perfect, right? Except…

Except love isn’t ‘unuconditional’ if it is only present when things are balanced. Except boundless support means support in the face of imbalance. Except a couple’s needs aren’t always the same or equal.

What happens to the relationship when one person’s needs are bigger, stronger or more urgent? What happens when one partner cannot be as supportive due to illness, addiction or being in the military? What happens when ailing parents or children throw the axis off?

A mature, loving, supportive relationship means that sacrifices are made, concessions are given & needs are prioritised. No two people (not even twins) grow in perfect synchronicity. So, if both partners are benefiting equally then they are having their wings clipped.

The most loving, relationship affirming thing I have ever done was to put my personal ambitions on the back-burner to dedicate myself to supporting my partner’s goals, loves, dreams and schedule. It is also the most humbling, ego-deflating, trusting, counter-intuitive decisions I have ever made.

Lesson: Love is not tit for tat, clean, orderly or balanced. Learn to find the harmony in the imbalance.

Solid ground

Getting your footing is a double edged sword. It is a beginning and an end. A life raft & a trap. It is a welcome reprieve from running in shifting sand, the earth crumbling beneath you, keeping you moving constantly searching out something firmer, safer. Ironically, as soon as we feel solid ground beneath our weary feet and calm breathing replaces our panicked panting we begin to move again. Even if we are taking a well trodden path there is no telling when the earth beneath our feet will give way again. Or else we stay here too long, clinging to the relative safety until the wind and weather erodes our rock and the earth shifts beneath us yet again.

For the longest part of my teenage years I never wanted the house in the suburbs, the husband or the kids. The prospect of my life revolving around nappy changes, bills and constant compromising of my wants and needs crushed my burgeoning spirit. Yet here I am. The perfect lesson of ‘you become what you most fear’. But I’m happy none the less. Proof that when you release your judgements you can learn to love anything.

I took a few Big risks around 19-20, they blew a massive hole in my life plan – the solid ground gave way to shifting sand. I found safe ground when the first risk paid off with a solid career in banking. I ran head long into shifting sand when I moved interstate, abandoning my career, to begin life with my boyfriend of 4 months (my second risk). I found solid ground again and really enjoyed our time in self imposed exile together. Since then the earth has fallen away and I have ran to and from solid ground many times.

Something I know for sure is that if you get too comfortable somewhere your rock will turn to sand and force you to move on, to grow.

I feel like I have been on solid ground for a little while now and I am feeling the gentle warning tremors on the earth readying itself to move. In the past I have been the one to run into the next challenge. From the outside looking in I’m told it appears fearless (or stupid). In reality it is a compulsion to grow & develop.

This time I find myself wanting to cling to now; to watch my son at this beautiful age forever, to live by the beach, to continue to have family as our focus as we quietly build the foundations of our lives. But alas, the winds of change are rustling in the leaves. I don’t know what they will bring.

Meaning

Objects are really just that – an object. In themselves they hold no meaning, other than the ones we give them that is. Any meaning an object holds for you was created by you, for you.

An engagement ring doesn’t encapsulate your partners love for you. It is metal and stone. A luxury car does not mean you are successful. Trophies don’t mean you are talented. Keeping a gift from an ex is not a betrayal of your partner (unless it feels that way to you). Owning the ‘it’ bag of the season doesn’t mean your stylish. Massive numbers of Twitter and Facebook ‘friends’ doesn’t mean you’re popular.

The same way that owning books doesn’t mean you can read. Owning Skis doesn’t mean you can ski. Having a marriage certificate doesn’t mean you’re loved. Owning a home doesn’t mean you’re settled. Having lots of stamps in your passport doesn’t mean you’re cultured.

Next time you’re at the check out and about to purchase your newest object, have a think: What does this mean to me? Will it help me achieve my goals? Am I buying it for pleasure? Do I really want this object or am I buying it for the meaning I believe it holds?

The fact that we give meaning to inanimate objects isn’t an issue. I too have my own collection for sentimental reasons. The key is to not be controlled by your objects and obsessed with the meaning they hold for you. The happiest and freest people I know could easily walk away for everything they own. Could you?

Letting Go

I have spent the past week with my family, and it has got me thinking about letting go. Letting go can be hard. Letting go can be easy. Letting go can become a habit – if you’re game. If you’re not, letting go can be utterly terrifying.

My grandmother is getting older; in fact she just celebrated her 86^th birthday. I baked, of course. She is fast approaching, or recently passed, (depending on who you speak to) the point of safely living alone at home. On some level I think she knows it. She is afraid of losing her independence and what that might mean. Her fear comes across as nastiness.

I can understand her fear and her denial. What becomes of us when we cease to be what we value? What are we when our intelligence is failing and outdated; our peers deceased; our looks long faded; our family self sufficient and our contribution to the world are knitted blankets donated to charity?

How do we come to terms with letting go of our prime, our status, our jobs, our friends and our independence? What can stand the test of time and remain ours regardless of our phase in life? The only thing that I come up with is love.

Love. Love of ourselves. Love for those around us. Love for something greater perhaps. Love of the taste of a sweet strawberry. Love of the feeling of the sun on our skin. Love of the sight of a rose in full bloom. Love of the smell of fresh bread baking.

I see too much of my grandmother in me. I don’t want to have to fight so hard. To cling so tightly to my independence. To fear what it means to lose it. The alternative, for what I can see, is to focus on love and to let go of other temporary titles. I wonder what will be my final hurdle? What will I perhaps be clinging to in my old age? Will it be my partner, work, my children, responsibility, intelligence or independence? If I am lucky perhaps I will enjoy the simple pleasures of my twilight years instead of mourning the loss of my former glories. IF along the way I develop a saintly disposition and grace.

What will you be clinging to in 60 years?

Unconditional Love

I have really been struggling to post recently and there are 2 reasons for this. I momentarily considered only offering one of the reasons but my internal ‘integrity-o-meter’ went off. So as opposed to telling you the truth, I’ll spill the whole truth.

First, there has been a lot going on in my life. I have had house guests, visiting relatives, my sons first birthday and a few crises going on in my friends’ lives. I don’t write about my loved ones for obvious reasons, so the lessons to be learned there aren’t blog-appropriate. Secondly, I am coaching myself through a personal lesson at the moment and am identifying more with the issue than I am with the solution. As a coach I have the urge to always be on top of things. Its ironic because my clients value my humanity and the way I deal with adversity far more than they do a one dimensional person who seems perpetually perfect.

The issue is that I am taking others actions personally. As a coach I know for sure that those around me act based on their own beliefs and agendas, and for the most part they mean no harm. I know that no-body does anything that they think is a bad option at the time and I know others decisions are about them and not me. The human in me is seeing things differently.

Emotionally I am feeling let down, betrayed, not valued, hurt, abandoned, judged and angry. I am feeling the full gamut of so-called ‘negative’ emotions. I want to tantrum and cry. I long to be heard and for the others to just see the light and change. The others are oblivious. They are doing the best that they know how with the resources and information available to them. If I were to confront the issue head on (as I have in the past) it would result in unnecessary angst, tension and perhaps a grudge.

So the graceful path forward is for me to do the personal growth work necessary to be truely ‘ok’ with the situation. Its a little known secret that you can revolutionise a situation purely by working on your internal judgements, reactions and beliefs about it. This is my task. This is my issue, not theirs. My emotions are telling me that the way I am participating in this situation isn’t healthy, helpful or graceful. Having ruled out taking external action, to avoid the more toxic situation of becoming bitter, my only option  is to learn to let go of whatever is stopping me from loving the situation and the people in it. Yep, you guessed it – working towards unconditional love.

Unconditional love isn’t something that Princes give to Princesses that they rescue from towers. Unconditional love isn’t something that a mother is gifted upon the birth of her child. A wedding ring may represent unconditional love but no object is powerful enough to contain it. Unconditional love is hard work. It is a process. It is about seeing things as they are, not as you would like to paint them. Its about choosing in each and every moment that nothing is more important than love.

Its a far more romantic in thought than practice. Nothing is more important than love. (Indeed nothing other than love exists, but thats a post for another day). It means that pride, being right, being praised, getting your way, personal gain, the upper hand, being heard & winning are all trumped by you loving yourself and the other regardless of the situation you find yourself in. Unconditional love doesn’t mean you become a door mat, but it means that you choose the loving option. You give the benefit of the doubt. You speak loving words, even if those words are ‘No’. You take loving action, even if that means you don’t get your way. You do what you need to do to fully embrace the situation as an opportunity to let go of obstacles to love.

The lesson for me in the ‘mess’ I have created for myself: Everything is an opportunity to love more. We are measured by the things we have learnt to love, not by arguments won. It is not important what emotion or story or hurt another person has bought me – what is important is that I chose to love whatever it is.

Memories

Have you ever noticed that the events that, by far, should be the happiest and most memorable usually aren’t? The nights out on the town that are planned and hyped up, flop. The weddings where the bride has merticulously planned every detail are remembered for the mismatched napkin rings and the bumbling priest instead of the joy. The special dates are overshadowed by fish and chips by the beach. The nights in swanky hotels and not as fun as crashing on the floor of a friends apartment.

Despite the many couples getaways I have had in swanky hotels my most memorable night with my partner was sleeping on the floor eating pizza the night we got the keys to our first apartment together. I looked forward to my Debutant ball for months (the equivelant to a senior prom) imagining it as a magical night with friends, family and my boyfriend. It was a huge disappointment; The dress didnt fit right, my hair was wrong, my boyfriend was a jerk (and spent most of his time with my ex!), the afterparty was a non event and the best part was McDonalds at Circular Quay afterwards. By contrast a ball that I spontaneously bought a table at and invited my friends to was magic, memorable and so much fun.

My baby turns 1 this week and I am terrified. I have been planning his First Birthday Party in my head for months. I have ordered lollies and decorations, I am making 3 different kinds of desserts, we have bought him a cute outfit, organised friends to play live music, invited our near and dear, written out a menu, we pick up helium balloons on Friday and I am getting my hair done so I look decent in photos that will be on display for the next 20 years at least. We are making a time capsule for him and a DVD of his life so far. And I am terrified.

I am scared that I have forgotten something, that the cakes don’t turn out, that the decorations don’t arrive, that the guests don’t get along, that the baby gets overwhelmed, that I am a bad hostess, that guests get lost on their way, that everybody buys him the same gift,  that he gets sick or has a bump on his head for the photos. But mostly I am scared that everything will go to plan and that the joy of the day will be overshadowed by showy cakes, balloons and presents.

Lesson: The best memories are made of substance; love, joy, connection, friendship, laughter, peace. We remember feelings not decorations, price tags or menus.