To See the Future

We should all be concerned about the future because we will have to spend the rest of our lives there. ~Charles F. Kettering

After several attempts, I was finally able to have my yearly psychic appointment. I say finally because the first three appointments for this year were cancelled for various reasons, none of them my own. As each appointment was rescheduled my joke became that fate mustn’t want me to know what was in store for me this year, but at the same time hoping that the reason for denying me a glimpse wasn’t because it was just that horrible.

But on the forth try, the appointment finally went off without incident. Or so to speak.

Many friends have commented that it seems crazy that I see a psychic every year when I seem…. well, normal.

In answer, I must plead a personality fault. And it is simply called a lack of patience. The list of things I don’t have patience with is quite extensive. I don’t like surprises. I will read the ending of a book first, especially if it is good, so that I don’t have to wait to see how it turns out. I will read the ending of an article first. I also plan the ending of my own books before I even consider the beginning. And the list goes on. So it isn’t a far stretch to see that I don’t have patience to wait for the future just to unfold, especially when much of my future feels undecided.

Several years ago, I didn’t have a need for a psychic. My future felt decided, whether I liked the plan or not. The path of life was clear, but since I didn’t like the plan, I shattered it into pieces. Problem solved. You would think, but then I realized that now that there is no plan, I find I don’t have the patience to wait for life to just happen.

Hence, my yearly psychic visits that give me some kind of clue to the grand scheme of life… at least a little.

Three years ago when I visited for the first time, I needed hope that I hadn’t broken something and doomed myself to failure. And I received exactly that during my reading. Two years ago I needed reassurance that I wasn’t screwing it all up, and that’s what my prediction offered then.

It would seem this year I needed a little self-evaluating because my psychic appointment turned into more of a counseling session.

And what was I ultimately told this year?

That life is about choice and apparently it all comes down to me. She told me that I needed to decide what I wanted and my future depended on what choice I made. Of course, she also shared the choices I had and what the outcome of each of those choices would be.

Well, what do you know? I’m in control, not fate. I go to a psychic every year to be told what will happen, and apparently I hold the future in my own choices. Hmmm… I think I knew that. I just didn’t want to know it.

I wanted her to tell me that this is how the year would go, so I could relax and not have to test my patience.

Not this time though.

Apparently I need to stop looking for the answers and choose some of my own.

My friends may be relieved if I return to normal. Or not. My close friends know how impossible that is.

People Change... or Do They?

Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts.                       -Arnold Bennett

Yet again, someone told me that I have changed; that I am a different person now. The negative connotation of this remark turned on my immediate defenses. Because often times when people tell you that you have changed, they don’t mean in a good- you’re the best thing since apple pie- change. I certainly hadn’t changed! I was just simple me. In a discussion later with a good friend, she reassured me that if I had changed, it was only for the better. I hadn’t changed who I was as a person certainly.

But then I found myself returning for another performance of the Vagina Monologues. I very rarely have time to repeat experiences of the last two years, mostly because there are so many new ones to be had, but on this rare occasion it did happen. I find the Vagina Monologues fascinating on so many levels. But more important than its funny and not so funny monologues, I had a realization. It came during the middle of a performance that demonstrates the different ways to moan—certainly an interesting place for an epiphany, and no, it wasn’t anything dirty, -- but it was still something that hit me all at once and made the world come into sharp focus.

As I sat through the performance, I didn’t become the least bit embarrassed or uncomfortable as I had two years ago. It was this simple ease where once awkwardness would have settled that made me realize that I had changed. Of course, as anyone standing accused, I don’t believe it is for the negative.

How had I changed and had not realized how much though? I must say that the last several years have been… interesting, to say the least. Some of the experiences during this time were chosen, some were not. But each of these experiences has created who I am by allowing me to learn about myself.

People change for many reasons. Mostly because we allow our minds to open to the world and experiences around us… some we welcome and some we wish we hadn’t. But in the end, we are shaped by what we allow ourselves to be shaped by. Every experience in life affords us the opportunity to learn more about ourselves as well as the world we live in.

But still, some people enjoy the static nature of their lives, the comfortableness of familiarity. In a world that is always changing, who can blame people for wanting something to remain unchanged? It is a choice though. Experiences in life happen all the time-- to us and around us… not learning and growing from these experiences is an option—one that I choose not to take. Does this make it wrong?

The problem comes in when one person changes and the people in their lives do not. A few years ago I was told that I shouldn’t have changed. That a relationship would have survived if I hadn’t changed. It is easy to say that someone has changed when we do no understand why things are suddenly different. And it is probably true that one person changing in a relationship and the other person remaining the same will create issues for a couple. But if life is about change, then it becomes our job to make sure our experiences and revelations about ourselves are shared with our partner.

I was discussing change recently with another divorced friend and her insight into the matter was that the problem is that people don’t want you to change. People want the easiness of knowing that this person will be exactly what their expectations are. We want to know that a person will always be late or always be there when we call. We want to know that a certain friend will never disagree with us. It makes life easier and more predictable when we categorize.

But what happens when that person isn’t happy? Do we insist they remain the same because it’s easier for us?

The fact of the matter is life is about change. And if you aren’t changing, then you aren’t growing. We need to allow others to grow and learn. If we want relationships to work, then we need to be accepting and understanding, not expect people to forever stay the same as the day we met them.

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

- Anatole France

Cara Gets a Book

Some of the most important ideas and conversations have happened in the bathtub around our house. Many of these have involved my daughter. The tally of uncomfortable conversations that she has caused from her relaxed position in a bathtub has grown exponentially over the years. Though I’m sure those conversations will one day be embarrassing fodder for my writing, only one has become the subject of my writing now.

When she was two and a half, I couldn’t get her to get out the bathtub. From the first time I’d carefully filled the tub with water and allowed her to sit in it on her own, her chubby hands had discovered the glorious delight of splashing it all over the floor and walls, and she loved it. But as a baby getting her out was easy, except for a few tears.

It’s when we reached toddlerhood that getting her out became more of an ordeal. To combat this obstacle, I began telling her stories, and the rule was when the story was finished, it was time to get out of the tub. We began with princesses and princes and unicorns because that was the interest of the time after a Disney World trip.

The problem was she wanted a different story each time; different characters and different situations every night. I soon exhausted my ideas on royalty being in danger and being rescued. Not to mention my boredom with these stories had reached optimum levels.

So after night after night of repeated requests for the Princess who found a unicorn, I told her I was going to tell her something different. And the first idea I had after my brilliant outburst was Cara the Pirate. Each night Cara went on a new adventure that I’d tell her while she played in the tub.

As she grew older, she added her own ideas to the story. She’d stop me and say no, I want this to happen instead. Even now, over four years later, she comes in when I’m in the bathtub and asks for a Cara the Pirate story, and her ideas on what should happen are specific. We’ve created the bad guys, the ships, the maps, and the little pieces of the story over the years.

When Muddy Bayou came out, she continually asked where was her book. Why hadn’t I written her stories down?

Years of telling these stories orally had developed these characters, but not to the extent that I create characters for other stories.

And if I were to write it down, I wanted to give her a story to grow into. Cara the Pirate had existed for a toddler, and Cara the girl is growing up. How would I make the stories, the memories that these stories left behind, last for years to come for her?

So Cara the Pirate was a Christmas present to my daughter. A brand new story with characters to grow with her, written for her, of course. But even she wants to share it with everyone. So I hope everyone enjoys it as much as she did. Though for me, the stories still exist in the bathtub. Where some of her best childhood memories sit.

End of 2012

 In typical end of the year fashion, I have pulled out my 2012 goals to access how much I’ve accomplished. It is that time of the year after all. The time where we say goodbye to the old and look forward to the new. which of course translates into making outlandish resolutions for the incoming year.

As I looked over my 2012 list though, I experienced a surge of disappointment. I hadn’t accomplished nearly half of what I’d hoped in 2012. All those fitness and writing goals I’d so thoughtfully listed had not materialized, nor had this year’s experiences quite worked out the way I’d intended.

This could lead to negative thoughts on the status of 2012. Maybe the year was a failure if I couldn’t accomplish all those lofty goals. But all those items not achieved don’t say anything about all the great things that I did do in 2012.

As I thought about this, I came up with my top ten reasons that 2012 was a great year and not the failure that all those unchecked items indicated.

10.  This was the year of great entertainment. From the Lady Antebellum concert to the two Broadway musicals Mary Poppins and Les Miserable to the opera in Spain, this year I enjoyed one of my favorite forms of entertainment, live performances. For years this is something I would have said I wanted to do but would not have followed through with making plans or getting tickets. This year I made sure they happened, and I intend to continue with this philosophy in the future. Putting things off becomes habit. Habits are made to be broken.

9. I bought a new car… on my own. Even though many people in my life didn’t feel that I should have done it on my own, because I was a woman and that indicated a certain weakness that could be used as a disadvantage. Well tough. I am on my own. If I wait for someone to come around and take care of me, I will miss out on many experiences. I managed to buy the car and get a good deal, even though I’m a woman who knows nothing about cars. Enough said.

8. I turned 35, that halfway point between being still young and feeling like I’m not so young (I will not dare say old.). And I didn’t have a nervous breakdown when I reached that midway point. (I will confess to a little anxiety leading up to the birthday). I celebrated with a group of fantastic ladies who are always willing to celebrate or commiserate, whatever is necessary. And surprisingly at the end of the night, I’d gained the insight that the number of years was a direct reflection on the lessons I’ve learned and the person I’ve become. I wouldn’t give back any of those years or experiences because the number of candles on my birthday cake becomes too many for me to blow out in one breath.

7. Traveling to Memphis via road trip. Blues, barbeque and Elvis Priestly: what more can you ask for in a successful road trip? It was on this trip that I learned that I actually like to travel. Before, I thought that I wasn’t very compatible with it. But here I learned that I liked to explore and learn new things and the best way to do this is get out there and see it for myself. The verdict is still out on whether I’m a good traveling companion. Maybe 2013 will answer that question.

6. Ice skating with the kids. One of the difficult facts I’ve had to face since the divorce is that all the old Christmas traditions I’ve held dear have pretty much disappeared. And for the last two Christmases, I’ve been at a lost to what traditions will become the future. This year we took the kids ice skating. As usual, Cara tackled the challenge with everything she had and Andrew sat back and watched and didn’t even put the skates on his feet. But when it was done, Cara asked if we could do this again every year. And for the first time in a few years, I felt like maybe there could be new traditions to replace the old.

5. Hot Air ballooning in Spain. Even though it was a nerve-wracking experience, it was an experience of a lifetime, and I enjoyed every minute of it. It’s one of those experiences that you look forward to for a long period of time, and when it finally happens, it does not disappoint.

4. I took my first vacation with just my kids and myself. The kids and I traveled to Florida via road trip style for our first family vacation since the divorce. It was another one of those accomplishments that leave you feeling strong and accomplished and capable of taking care of anything.

3. The Magic Fountain in Barcelona. Even though I did so many things in Spain that could fill this list, I’m choosing the fountain to represent the entire experience of being in another country. It was sitting near the fountain and watching its magical water and light show that I finally felt the magic of being in a foreign place and the feelings of inspiration and excitement that are wrapped up in incredible experiences.

2. I completed my editing certification and I became an actual editor. After a year and half of classes and hard work, I completed my certification and then began my first editing job for booksBnimble. This is one of those dreams that I’ve had nearly my entire life… to be an editor… and 2012 is the year that it became real and not just a dream that I had let me pass by.

1. Muddy Bayou, Muddy Grave, and Cara the Pirate. In 2012, my writing career has finally begun. I had my first book signing, Muddy Bayou continues to sell, and I recently released Muddy Grave. I also finished Cara the Pirate after my daughter’s repeated requests all year to have the story I’ve made up for her since she was three as a book. Writing became a priority again in 2012.

So even though, my 2012 resolution list wasn’t nearly completed, it was still a fantastic year. As I wrestle with the extensive list for 2013, I know that it doesn’t matter at the end of the year about what doesn’t get checked off of this list. It’s really about all the great things that are yet to come. So maybe we should all keep that in mind when we are making our resolutions or looking back on the ones that we didn't accomplish.

Thoughts on a School Shooting

Luck. What else can you call it? What else could it be but luck that day that I survived the LCO school shooting yet twenty children did not survive the Sandy Hook shooting? I, who have lived years beyond their own young lives. Lives that are now shortened with futures unfulfilled. It must be luck.

It’s what I think now as I get messages from people telling me that they are thinking about me. It’s difficult not to imagine how things could have turned out so very differently three and half years ago when you see the worse case scenario splashed across every news station. I can’t help but think that I survived for some reason. A reason that I may run out of time to fulfill. As if it will be taken away if I don’t use it the right way. Survivor’s guilt, I suppose. But how else do you explain the lives of twenty beautiful, innocent children being taken, but not my own.

Ashamed. As I watched my social media feed fill up Friday with debates on everything from gun control to God in our schools, this is what I felt as the shooting played out on television. On the very same day of a terrible tragedy, political rants began. A day when the only thought that should have occurred was mourning for the loss of the innocent lives to the evilness that lived in the heart of one individual. Instead of an outpouring of support for the victims, my social media “friends” argued over whether or not if teachers were armed, would the deaths have been prevented.

No one backing down from his or her point of view, of course. No listening to each other. Just the refusal to give up or give in.

Truth. When bad things happen, we search for reasons why. Our hearts and minds need a reason as comfort. Each person finds their reason based on what they perceive to be wrong in the world. I tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but even I have difficulty finding reason in the death of all those innocent children.

When tragedies such as this occur, we look to blame someone or something. But the issues around incidents like this are polarizing. Everyone refusing to budge. Gun activists cite the second amendment and those for gun control cite incidents like these to support stricter control. Both having valid arguments, but arguments that are also flawed. The constitution hasn’t always been right. If it was, only white men would still be able to vote. The writers of our constitution could not fathom guns being used to commit mass murder of innocent children. But then again, if gun laws are stricter does that mean they aren’t available? Of course not. Drugs are illegal, but people still use them. Making something illegal doesn’t make it go away. It makes it more valuable.

And then there is the God argument. The argument being that God is not in our public schools. But isn’t He? My students say the pledge each morning: “One nation under God.” They have the opportunity to pray at weekly BASIC meetings. They carry their faith with them wherever they go in our school. It doesn’t leave them as they enter our halls to be picked up when they exit the building. It is part of who they are. Do we teach religion? No. But isn’t it also our constitutional right to have freedom of religion? The freedom to practice whatever religion we please and not be forced to learn about whatever the dominant religion is? It doesn’t mean that the students’ beliefs aren’t acknowledged or present when they are in the halls and classrooms of our school.

I’ve seen many of my social media “friends” contradict themselves by claiming it’s their constitutional right to have firearms, and then claim that what we need in schools is God. These are both constitutional rights. Who gets to decide which one of our constitutional rights is more important?

Guilt. This is what we should feel. Because of our polarity, our unwilling to cross the divide of our own opinions, nothing changes and more incidents continue to happen.

What changed after the LCO school shooting? Only the locks of all our classroom doors. They automatically lock now. But teachers and students become frustrated waiting for them to be opened, so they leave cracks in them. Cracks where bad things can get in.

Because time passes and people forget why that little detail of an open door matters.

It’s easy for some, I imagine. For our mental health, we wrap ourselves in a bubble and convince ourselves that tragedy only occurs elsewhere. Until incidents like Sandy Hook happen and we are confronted by the reality that violence can happen to anyone. But then the same media we blame for publicizing it stops covering the tragedy, and we let it go. It becomes a reference and a statistic. Something too difficult to believe possible again.

Hope. Personally, I don’t blame the gun that fired at me or a school that doesn’t teach religion or the fact that my door didn’t lock. I don’t blame the media or video games or bullying.

It comes down to a person who made a choice. In each of us there is good and evil. We are all capable of so much more than we believe possible, in good ways and in ways that are terrible.

There is wrong in the world and none of the blame we throw around faces the fact that the terribleness does exist inside of people. And the solution to that does not fall under our constitution or in our social media debates or any of the other places that we seek to blame and divide ourselves. It falls under our ability to love and reach out to one another. Hostility and hate and denial will not deliver the changes our schools or even the world need.

But I hope that what is clear to us is that the tragedies will not go away unless we do things differently. There is a of favorite quote of mine that says that if you always do what you’ve always done, than you will always get what you have always gotten.

We can’t afford to keep doing the same things. What’s at stake, the lives of our children, is too high.