tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10748690304957287142024-03-13T21:52:25.039-07:00oddgodthoughtscarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-90659089458939553762011-03-18T19:46:00.000-07:002011-03-18T19:51:41.368-07:00HubpagesHi Friends.<br /><br />I don't know if anyone is still following this blog but if so, I'm now posting to Hubpages under the name of OpeningDoors2u. I've posted a couple of hubs and would appreciate comments, feedback, criticism. I'm not real familiar with this site and know I need to make my posts more attractive, enticing. Let me know what you think. I love writing but know I have much to learn about what to write about that is of interest to others and the technology of it for these sites. What an amazing day of opportunity for those of us who love sharing our ideas.<br /><br />To the pain,<br />Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-27236119237013052372011-01-24T09:48:00.000-08:002011-01-24T10:12:53.351-08:00Take me home country roads.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> 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mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m sitting at home on a subzero degree day thankful that I don’t have to go out and more blessed by the warm sun that is shining on my back through the sliding glass door leading out onto my porch newly re-blanketed with six inches of snow that fell soon after my having shoveled off the previous foot or so of fluffy white stuff. <span style=""> </span>It’s January in upstate New York and as usual this time of year, I’m wondering why I still live here.<span style=""> </span>I despise winter, have never enjoyed winter sports or activities, and suffer from seasonal affective disorder (SAD). <span style=""> </span>I was born in late November in Bangor, Maine, and have often said while gazing morosely out the window on a typical November day that if this was my first view of life, no wonder I’ve suffered from dysthymia and depression for as long as I can remember.<span style=""> </span>Add in the memories I have of the<span style=""> </span>many profound losses our family experienced back then, all taking place in winter months and I realize that there is embedded deep within me a hardwired brain pattern for winter blues. <span style=""> </span>Every September, the battle begins, as dusk arrives a bit earlier each day, the unsettling <span style=""> </span>twinges of anxiety emerge along with panicky waves of claustrophobia as I unwillingly contemplate the impending arrival of daylight savings time, the robber baron of precious evening sunlight. Soon, I’ll be hemmed in by darkness in the morning and by darkness too early in the afternoons. <span style=""> </span>By mid-November, depending on the severity of the season and the number and degree of combined stresses from other sources, these mild anxieties may have escalated to a full-blown mood disorder. <span style=""> </span>I had some years of psychotherapy around this and other issues and did better for several years.<span style=""> </span>By forcing myself to return to therapy for some October tune-up sessions where I was able to absorb a degree of objectivity, I was able to recognize that my world wasn’t really falling apart and I wasn’t going crazy. My circadian rhythms were off and I needed to compensate.<span style=""> </span>I made adjustments, forcing myself to get out socially, go dancing, be with friends, attend church, read inspiring books, play boardgames with my grandchildren, anything that assisted my brain and body to make the chemical and attitudinal shifts I knew I was going to need to survive.<span style=""> </span>Those were good years for the most part.<span style=""> </span>I not only survived but I thrived in some fundamental ways, managed to stay hopeful and emotionally even through the long, long Northeastern winter months, and not to drive off every friend I’ve ever had. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This year has been a tough one.<span style=""> </span>The stresses have been heavy, personal losses overwhelming, the challenges of life acute, physical and emotional energy low.<span style=""> </span>Efforts to access my cache of internal resources haven’t been successful in lighting an effective fire in my motivations. <span style=""> </span>The wood seems damp, smoking and smoldering, giving off little heat. <span style=""> </span>So, here I am, in the grip of a good case of winter blues, irritable, isolating, thinking seriously that the only thing worth getting up in the morning for is that first fresh cup of coffee.<span style=""> </span>Once I get the first sips of dark brew into me, I sit with my journal, pouring out my despair and feeble attempts at praise and gratitude. I read some scripture and maybe a devotional passage and finally am able to at least begin the process of getting through another day. <span style=""> </span>I’m putting this on paper and posting it here as a type of therapy for myself and perhaps for some other sufferer who needs to be reminded that Spring will come again, the air will warm, the trees will leave, the birds will sing.<span style=""> </span>But in the meantime, there needs to be an effort on one’s own behalf despite the murky stream of melancholy that colors the world and the deep internal shiver that paralyzes all desire to move. <span style=""> </span>There are treatments for this disorder, including light therapy (phototherapy), psychotherapy and medications. I personally avoid medications of any type but for some people the appropriate medication can provide a bridge over the roughest waters. <span style=""> </span>Exercise is very beneficial but can be difficult to initiate when the mood is low. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Writing helps me a great deal.<span style=""> </span>It allows me to take these vague discomforts, ruminations, anxieties and despairs and cast them out into the light of day. I find myself able to arrive at new conclusions about their meanings, to develop fresh perspective from that which has been like an obsessive dirge of despondency, formed too early, reinforced by harsh environmental cycles, replaying itself over and over in my soul.<span style=""> </span>I will escape one day soon to a land of warmth and sunshine. I was never meant to dwell in this semi-dark, frozen place, beautiful though it can be in other seasons. <span style=""> </span>Surely I was mis-delivered by a tired, mentally befuddled stork who was himself suffering from winter blues, who lacked the energy and motivation to carry me to Arizona where I was supposed to be born.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Keep the faith,</p><p class="MsoNormal">Carol<br /></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-10215110263367657402011-01-20T13:10:00.000-08:002011-01-20T13:36:54.114-08:00Beginning AgainWhen I started this blog I had every intention of keeping up with it. The feedback was positive and I was enjoying sharing a few thoughts with others in this format. Then I entered grad school and writing became a chore and nasty necessity and posting to this blog was the last thing on my mind. I graduated in May and got my license in August and now am entitled to add the expensive to obtain but apparently not too valuable designation of LMSW to my signature. At least this is the conclusion I've drawn from my unsuccessful search for jobs. The competition is plentiful while the funding of services is low. This discouraging state of affairs was overshadowed by the recent death of both my mother and sister four weeks apart. I'm still waiting for the numbness to wear off.<br /><br />So, as an outgrowth of the problems and challenges, I've discovered new things to write about and a renewed desire to do so. Writing helps me to work out solutions and maybe I can share a thing or two that will be helpful to others experiencing similar challenges.<br /><br />Blessings,<br />Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-44062820829707984512008-12-10T16:09:00.000-08:002008-12-10T17:13:03.926-08:00And yet another "holiday" seasonAs I age, I notice that time passes faster and faster. Still, it's nearly impossible for me to believe another year has passed and that we're in the midst of yet another holiday season. I ranted a bit about this last year so I won't do that again but I have to say that now that it has become a "holiday season" and not the Christmas season, it doesn't seem quite the same as it did once upon a time. As part of my course work in grad school (I just finished my last assignment of my first semester - hooray!) we have focused on issues of diversity and along with this, the oppression that minorities of all types have experienced as a result of their marginal position in the American culture. It has given me a new appreciation of these issues and consideration of what it must feel like to be different and ostracized, even if subtly, for those differences and to have the mindset of the dominant culture pushed down your throat, as it were. Some of our class discussions have been to consider when, where and why <span style="font-style: italic;">we</span> may have felt oppressed. At first, as a born and bred WASP, I thought that this didn't apply to me but with thought, I was able to come up with some instances and to remember what that felt like and the impact it had on me, deeper than I've been prone to readily admit actually. It hurts to be judged as inferior, to have one's dearly held values dismissed, to be mocked and rejected simply for being who you are. What distortions result from efforts to redo oneself to fit it, to blend.<br /><br />I like to express my own convictions. I like to <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> convictions but I'm finding more and more that I don't want my convictions or opinions to stand between myself and others, or to diminish others in any way. Life is hard and it takes everything we can muster to get through it some days - some years. Trouble can seem to slap itself on us like cockleburs on a pants leg. Adding to the burdens of others just isn't appealing to me, despite my personal rights to make my judgments heard. I find I have less and less to say about certain things these days, fewer (if that's possible) political opinions, advice for the prodigals, need to be known as a philosopher, intellectual, or a teacher. I mostly just want to observe and admire the amazing complexity and beauty of human life, despite its failings, and to gaze in wonder at the awesome creation as it continually transforms and performs its seasonal dances before me. Probably I'm just getting old and mellow. I'm glad about that actually. It seems like a gift - finally, after years of internal uproar and drama, of caring too much about too many of the wrong things. I'm finding myself more excited about what is unfolding before me than in trying to make things happen according to some plan of my own devising.<br /><br />Well, enjoy your season any of you who may have happened upon this. Try to soak up some of what's real about the whole thing. Despite the commercials and made-for-television specials, this may not be all that obvious to discern or easy to articulate. There is a great deal of mystery in such things, much that is inscrutable. That's as it should be. We weren't meant to know it all. We <span style="font-style: italic;">were </span>meant to behold.<br /><br />Ever onward. Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-38512377879559045312008-10-12T13:15:00.000-07:002008-10-12T13:55:33.195-07:00catching up.I haven't had any time to write here for awhile with my new grad school project and schedule. I'm finding that it's a lot more work than I was anticipating but that's as it should be considering the level of the endeavor. I like learning, even things I don't really care much about, because my world expands as I consider other points of view and I become aware of the complexity and richness of life in this modern world. Answers to the pressing problems we're all finding ourselves in these days, don't come easily, and every answer we discover and implement affects other aspects of our crowded lives. We overlap so with others that our choices often have residual affects that we weren't expecting. Still, we tend to prefer the full, complicated, busy life to its alternative and being connected to others helps insure a healthy mind, body, and spirit. I get the desire to pull back sometimes, to hide out and indulge the introverted part of my personality. Then I think about how short our time really is here on planet earth and how quickly the human configuration of my social world can change and I decide to plod on, soaking up whatever it is that I'm supposed to be learning and contributing my meager lunch to the grand buffet. Every so often, something so astounding and unexpected happens that I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that I didn't miss it. People really are the coolest thing going and I'm glad I know lots of them and am getting to know many more.<br /><br />I'm doing my field work in an elementary school. It's been some time since I've been in an elementary school environment and I find myself being flooded with memories almost every day of that period in my own life, how both amazing and awful it was and how my experiences during that period have impacted my entire life right up to the present. I'm reminded of how important it is to look children in the eye when you talk to them and to really pay attention because they know so well when you're faking it, and they feel it. We don't lose that hunger as we "grow up." We still feel it when people look through us or around us. I guess one of my goals from all this study and work is to keep reminding myself of the results of <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> giving people the attention and respect they need whenever its humanly possible. It's the gift that keeps on giving, as they say.carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-65676876294515614452008-08-16T08:08:00.000-07:002008-08-16T08:43:32.942-07:00What's important<p class="MsoNormal">Wow, this summer is going by fast.<span style=""> </span>Between the rainy, rainy weather and a too-busy schedule, I feel as though I'm still waiting for it to start when it's nearly over.<span style=""> </span>I’m at that stage in my life where the years are ticking off at a pace that’s a little scary. There’s a country song where an old man is being interviewed on his 100<sup>th</sup> birthday and his advice is “Don’t blink, 100 years goes faster than you think.” <span style=""> </span>I’m not at the hundred year point yet and probably will never be but I've lived long enough to know that time is like beach sand slipping through the fingers and that the only evidence of it having ever been handled are a few clinging remains.<span style=""> When we think about that, we have to consider just what we want to have left on our hands and sticking to the soles of shoes when the summers of our lives are over.</span> I, for one, have wasted more of my precious minutes than I like to admit, and there are few opportunities for do-overs. But despite the impediments to some of the grandiose plans I had for the summer, on reflection, I feel that this was one block of time that I spent well. Because I'm on my way to grad school as a full-time student, I've been aware that my schedule isn't going to have much leftover space for what remains my greatest life value - the relationships and shared love I have with a small group of wonderful individuals. This grieved my heart. I decided to schedule time with them, not necessarily doing anything fabulous (which I couldn't afford anyhow) but just basking in their auras in some way that was meaningful to each of us. I had the grandchildren over one by one and took two of them for an overnight during which we visited my sister, my niece and her children in New Hampshire then on to Lynn, Massachusetts see my mother for a few hours. I hadn't seen any of these people for several years. I spent a day running errands, shopping and watching a movie with one girlfriend, an afternoon picnic lunch with another, and attended a play with still another. I have a couple friends to go and just made a date to have lunch with my daughter, the already overbooked homeschooling mother of five of my grandchildren. It feels good to have achieved this and I have some pictures and reminders that I can post around my work station and refer to when slaving over assignments gets to be too much.<br /></p><br />I did something else this summer. I actually made it through all 45 cds of the audio version of Atlas Shrugged, a 1084 page paperback I once attempted to read in about 1967. Very interesting, but I may talk about that in another blog.<br /><br />Carol<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-87486960380217166212008-08-16T07:41:00.000-07:002008-08-16T08:08:09.953-07:00<p class="MsoNormal"></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-6194094254201096582008-07-19T07:40:00.000-07:002008-07-19T08:51:00.548-07:00Late BloomingsIn about a month I'm going to start grad school. I'm very excited about this as it is the fulfillment of a long-time dream and I'm finally going to be officially working in the field I love which is clinical social work. Most people, and I'm no exception, get involved in the helping fields as a result of their own troubled upbringings. The desire to resolve lingering issues and re-educate oneself about life and love is a powerful motivator. Throw into the mix all those great helping skills we developed as a result of our childish attempts to survive chaos, to "fix" our caregivers who were obviously suffering deeply, and protect and care for siblings and you have a ready-made social worker, psychologist, doctor, teacher, etc. This ability to detect suffering in others is particularly well developed and can be both our greatest gift and our heaviest burden. So we spend a great deal of our adult lives seeking for that which was so glaringly absent in our childhood experiences and believing that we can find answers to eliminate or at least alleviate the awful suffering we both feel and observe and by golly, "fix" this crazy world, by hook or by crook, the grace of God or our own measure of superhuman effort.<br /><br />You probably have already picked up on some of the fallacies inherent in this line of thinking. I'm aware of them too. That's why I'm involved in a support group about Boundaries and how important this is in living a realistic and controlled life, a life through which I can <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe </span>make a difference for myself and others, but if not, I can at least be happy, healthy and wise. Boundaries are parameters we need to set, much like real estate property lines which are determined, measured, and recorded establishing an owner's rights and responsibilites. In this world of many opinions, positions of power, desires and needs, we must have these maintained borders to prevent abuse and to establish legalities. It's a good thing to know where the lines are. It makes us feel safe and confident and informs us as to the limits of our responsibilities and rights. And so it is with our personhood, internal and external, emotional, spiritual, and physical. We need to know where we end and others begin and vice versa. We have to be able to stand up for ourselves when others would push into our space in unacceptable ways, to understand what our responsibilities are in relationships and what rightfully and respectfully belongs to the other participants. Through this study I'm realizing that I have the greatest responsibility to myself, to accept and appreciate myself as a person of value, whether or not I change the world or prevent suffering, or meet the needs and desires of others to the exclusion of my own. I still want to do these things but only because they are right and good and will bring more good life into my existence. When this happens for me, it surely will for others with whom I'm involved. Love requires freedom was a statement made in the course. Freedom is an internal condition which emanates from the knowledge of self as an eternal being whose ultimate existence is outside time and its limitations. Coming from this exalted position we can see everything from a new perspective and when I'm truly clear on all that it means, I'll <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span> a more complete person, a "better" person if you will, and someday, a great social worker. <br /><br />Rambling on.<br />Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-59970925900690797202008-06-25T08:11:00.000-07:002008-06-25T08:15:57.046-07:00Windy Wonderings<p>I was thinking this morning, with no small amount of fascination, about the fact that God is always in the world but so unobtrusively much of the time that He’s easy to miss.<span style=""> </span>I was pondering particularly the Biblical statement that the Spirit of God is like the wind, blowing where it wills.<span style=""> </span>Most of the time, we are unaware of the movement of the winds about us unless they are intense or absent. The gentle breezes go pretty much unnoticed during an average day as we scurry from one activity to another, our minds whirling with to-do items, problems, our physical condition, worries and woes, or circumstantial joys.. <span style=""> </span>We cannot see the wind but we can see what it does, how it moves things about, causes the trees to sway, even break, inspiring large bodies of water to “wave” and ships to sail upon them, kites to soar, soil to erode, perspiration to evaporate from skin on a scorching afternoon, and so much more. Wind can virtually create, reshape or destroy our landscape. We bless its appearance sometimes, curse it at others.<span style=""> </span>And so it is with God.<span style=""> </span></p> <p>There’s a.supposedly “new” brand of atheism afoot these days, represented in a rash of books with titles like “God is not Great, How Religion Poisons Everything” and “The God Delusion.”and, oh, my favorite “God, the Failed Hypothesis, How Science Shows that God does Not Exist.” I hope He’s not too upset when He finds out. <span style=""> </span>I work in a library so I get exposed to these tomes along with the respondent attempts of Christians and other thinkers to dispute them. <span style=""> </span>I’ll <span style=""> </span>have to leave it up to the experts in apologetics and debate to battle this out on an intellectual level. <span style=""></span><span style=""> </span>I’m just going to point to the wind and the fact that millions and millions of individuals in this world, at all levels of intellect and accomplishment, find faith to be their greatest and most productive emotion; to the fact that the world has not blown itself to bits so far despite the rise and fall of countless despots and cruel and pervasive governments, that day after day people whose lives are filled with apparent tragedy and pain, physical and emotional, find their greatest solace and strength in the relationship they have with the invisible wind of God.<span style=""> </span>We sing a song in our church, written by one of our music ministers, “Wind of God, come and blow, breathe new life into these dry bones.”<span style=""> </span>I guess that would be my prayer for the authors of all these new books that are, in reality, only an updated<span style=""> </span>re-hash of old faithless and I suspect, bitter, blather.<span style=""> </span>Science is a wonderful thing if it’s based in the truth, and not focused in some narrow hallway of exploration.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, somewhere along the line these people fell into an investigatory vacuum and became so nearsighted in their scientific and philosophical pursuits that they seemed to have overlooked enormous bodies of evidence against their assumptions.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND ?</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">BY: CHRISTINA ROSSETTI</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">Who has seen the wind? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">Neither I nor you:</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">But when the leaves hang trembling</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">The wind is passing thro'</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">Who has seen the wind?</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">Neither you nor I:</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">But when the trees bow down their heads</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";">The wind is passing by.</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><br /><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif";"></span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-18713278896943671372008-03-13T09:30:00.000-07:002008-03-13T09:58:50.607-07:00Past, Future, or NOWI'm getting ready to go on vacation, twenty days of bliss - I hope. It's like anything I approach with a great deal of expectancy, I set myself up for "surprises" of the frustrating variety. I read a good quote recently, "Expectations are pre-planned resentments." I've been trying to remind myself of that lately and it helps. Focusing in on the now of my life has become my new project. I'm reading an excellent book on the topic, Echart Tolle's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Power of Now. </span>As I've been reading, I'm becoming so aware of how readily my overly-active mind defaults to the past or even more often, to the future and how seldom I am grounded in the present moment, which, as Tolle points out so eloquently, is the only reality. No wonder my memory is so poor - I've generally been somewhere else on the time-continuum than where I literally was. Amazing. <br /><br />In the Middle Ages, I recently read, before the invention of the mechanical clock, the average individual had little idea what day or month or year it was, when they were born and consequently how old they were. Their entire concept of time was what they discerned from the daily activities of nature. What would it be like to live like that, so unaware of time? Today we're run ragged by the its demands and so aware of the aging process that we can scarcely enjoy any one stage because we're busy dreading or anticipating the next. <br /><br />I also recently read an interesting interpretation of the symbolism of the two thieves who died on the crosses on either side of Jesus. One represented the past and the other the future. If you read the comments they hurled forth, you can see this. Jesus' response, His comfort, was in the word "Today." "Today, you will be with me in Paradise." Preoccupation with the past or the future, or both, robs us of the enjoyment, the insight, the consciousness we're supposed to have with our glorious Present. When we live fully in the moment, we are partaking of Eternity in a very real way. I like that. That's better than a vacation actually.carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-4098428088521083892008-01-08T16:52:00.000-08:002008-01-08T17:00:31.305-08:00Random Acts of Kindness<p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was recently talking to a young lady that I encounter occasionally where I work.<span style=""> </span>We discussed the weather, which happened to be inordinately cold for the past several days.<span style=""> </span>Some statement in our conversation reminded her of an incident which occurred one night when she was at college several years before.<span style=""> </span>The weather that evening was bitter also and she found herself leaving a building after dark, alone, and some distance from her dorm. She was not appropriately dressed for the temperature and was hoping someone would come along and offer her a ride, but this didn’t happen.<span style=""> </span>Before she had walked much distance, she found herself becoming so cold she could barely move.<span style=""> </span>The buildings around her were dark and she knew the likelihood of being able to attract attention enough to gain access was slim and she pressed on.<span style=""> </span>Soon, she felt she couldn’t take even one more step. In a state of quiet desperation now, she cast about in her mind as to what to do and a thought rose to the forefront of her thoughts that she should pray, which she did. As she stood like an ice statue in the road, praying a simple plea for help, a voice in her head began to speak, saying something to the effect of “Do you remember when you used to be on the beach in Florida?<span style=""> </span>Well, imagine yourself there right now.<span style=""> </span>Imagine the sun’s heat, the hot sand, the warm breezes.”<span style=""> </span>So she did and soon found that she had generated enough internal warmth that she could continue to walk, eventually arriving at her dorm, so stiff and cold that she could only kick at the door until someone let her in.<span style=""> </span> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->As she finished her story, she searched my face cautiously. “You probably think that’s weird, don’t you?” she said.<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No,” I replied, “I’ve read about and been told things like this before, and I’m very convinced that God intervened in your situation, spoke to you, and saved your life.”<span style=""> </span> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->She agreed. <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Later I began to think about how often this does happen and how embarrassed people are to recite such incidents to others, lest we think them “weird” or worse yet “religious nuts.”<span style=""> </span>Imagine if all the people to whom such things had happened were to go on television, on the nightly news and recount their tales and night after night, day after day, there was a series of such interviews.<span style=""> </span>Wouldn’t we find it more interesting, more inspiring and faith-and-joy building than what we <i>do </i>get treated to that is called news? Wouldn't be begin to believe such things, be more accepting of their occurrence? Wouldn’t we find ourselves in awe, first of all with how consistently involved God truly is with the human race and how many are <i>His </i>random acts of kindness?<span style=""> </span>Thinking about this reminded me again of the character quality I love most about God – His humility.<span style=""> </span><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->Though He gets badmouthed constantly and blamed for every thing that goes wrong (usually as a result of human choice), He doesn’t explain or justify, just goes about doing good, raining on the just and unjust alike, finding, apparently great pleasure in this kind of one-on-one secret, special, interaction. He doesn't find it necessary to toot His own horn apparently, knowing as He does the reluctance of the recipients of such rescue to tell others. <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The results of such an experience are usually mixed, I find.<span style=""> </span>Some people, like this woman, feel that it was a God-thing, but others remain doubtful and may attach another type of interpretation. Still, even then, there is a bit of a sense of wonderment that bleeds through, a softened perspective and attitude.<span style=""> </span>I know that for me personally, whenever I’m touched in such a way, I’m left different than I was, less full of myself and my own solutions to life, and filled with a bit more gratitude for the extension of time I’ve been given to continue this marvelous adventure called life on earth.<span style=""> </span><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->In addition, I emerge minus some of the fear and random anxiety that can stalk me like a mountain lion if I let it. I’m more inclined to walk right up to those enemies of my soul and face them down.<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’d love to hear some of <i>your </i>stories and maybe I’ll tell some of mine in future posts – as long as you promise not to think I’m “weird.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Until then, blessings.<span style=""> </span><br />Carol<span style=""> </span><br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-18420855137454373092007-12-27T11:54:00.000-08:002007-12-27T13:05:41.391-08:00Little things<p class="MsoNormal">I’m often amazed at how slight an event or word it can take to change the entire tone of a day.<span style=""> </span>Maybe I’m just the moody sort but I can be grinding along with my mind digging mental trenches of a certain length and depth, when I open an email or leaf through a book or someone speaks a word, and suddenly there’s a new light about me. <span style=""> </span>I realize again that life is good, bad things are never all bad and don’t last forever, and there’s hope for my sorry person yet.<span style=""> </span>Conversely, a “discouraging word” has the power to accelerate my mental ditch digging until I find myself wiping the sweat of hell’s heat from my furrowed brow as I bewail the damnable difficulties of life and wonder how I’ll ever make it through. <span style=""> </span>Maybe in my case it is simply temperamental moodiness, but it is <span style=""> </span>an internal reality I have to deal with and I’m sure I’m not the only one <span style=""> </span>who struggles in this way.<span style=""> </span>I know all too well how far the ripples spread from a small stone skipped across a lake.<span style=""> </span>If I’m producing ripples, I’d like them to be of the encouraging, inspiring, and <span style=""> </span>comforting variety, not readily evoked perhaps as a great event in the recipient's life or likely to win me any medals for heroism but still, of the nature that I won’t have to look back upon my way in this world <span style=""> </span>with regret.<span style=""> </span>We moody types often wrestle with this regret thing as a matter of course.<span style=""> </span>I try hard to mind what I say and how I treat people and the Golden Rule.<span style=""> </span>I’m not always successful and there are days when I’m painfully aware of the bleed-through of my moods and attitudes into my behavior toward others.<span style=""> </span>I don’t like this at all.<span style=""> </span>I’ve made some degree of progress over the years. The aging process alone does mellow an individual, whetting a more patient tolerance with the stone of experience, but I’d like to become proactive in the process, to seek out ways to bring more light to the worlds of others and to spread some of that Christmas joy everyone at least <span style="font-style: italic;">talks</span> about for those fleeting three or four weeks during the year.<span style=""> </span>I’d like to learn to more consistently <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> this during the ordinary, tedious, <span style=""> </span>mundane times of my life when it seems to count for more and is more difficult to maintain.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />So that’s one New Year’s resolution for my list, one I know I’ll need huge helpings of grace to be able to keep. Fortunately, we have a secure promise of grace for such things. <span style=""> </span>God knew better than to leave us to our own devices on <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> one.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Peace on earth and good will to you all.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Carol<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-63854972167480330602007-12-20T13:23:00.000-08:002007-12-20T13:39:35.726-08:00Judgment or Love?In 1985, on Christmas Eve, my father lapsed into a coma. He’d been ill off and on for a period of time, having lost a leg a couple years earlier to arteriosclerosis, the result of too many years of hard drinking and smoking and other sins against his body. Now there were other problems that had landed him in the Veteran’s hospital for what was supposed to be a routine exploratory procedure. Something didn’t go right and he suffered a stroke and then the coma. We were notified Christmas Eve day and so I spent my evening beside his bed, listening to him breathe and wishing he would open his eyes. He never did, although there were a couple of precious moments when he managed to squeeze my hand, letting me know he heard the words of love I murmured in his ear. He died New Years Eve. I was thankful that he died peacefully, in a bed, and not mangled in some car accident, something we’d feared would be his fate for years when I was young. Dad was an alcoholic and eventually did lose his license because of a DWI accident. He didn’t drive again until in his 60’s, after he’d stopped drinking. <br /><br />I had thought at the time of his death that things were reasonably okay between us but recently as I was writing an essay about this event for our memoir group, I realized that in actuality, I had been in a state of deep emotional detachment from my father for some time before his death. A resentful kind of pride had crept into my heart about the past and the poverty and trauma we’d endured as a result of his drinking and now that my situation was considerably more comfortable, I’d become full of judgment toward my father, and a hardness and lack of concern had settled over me. In place of the childish infatuation and adoration I had for my father throughout my childhood and adolescence, now as an adult, I was judging him as inferior, as a failure as a person, and especially as a parent. Because of my judgments, I found myself unable to truly forgive him the way I wish now I had, and to love him in the lavish manner he deserved at this point in his life and that would have freed me from the lingering regret I tried to justify for years. I realize now that it was the judgment I was passing on my father that truly hurt my soul far more than my father’s actual past behavior and the judgments that made forgiveness necessary at all.<br /><br />I guess I wanted to tell this story and the conclusions I reached because I know that many people struggle with their relationships at this time of the year and the past rises up with a vengeance for some, not allowing them to enjoy holiday events or to connect lovingly with family members. Maybe, like me, they can’t let go of the hurts and resentments, but have become numb to the fact, because of subtle judgments they have made and continue to hold against others. Let’s face it, my Dad had his problems and they affected my life, but he was just a man, doing the best he could and learning along the way. When I became a parent myself, I discovered how difficult it is to not make mistakes, sometimes big ones, sometimes repeating the very mistakes your parents made that you swore as a child you’d never commit. I’m so thankful when my now-grown children tell me that they don’t even remember some of the things I bring up in my fits of regret. What they do remember, I’m told, is that when I realized I’d messed up, I acknowledged it and apologized and that they always knew I loved them, even if I was acting like an idiot. I would hate to think they were withholding their affections from me now, even unconsciously, because of old judgments and that our brief time together on planet Earth was being sabotaged by these old ghosts. <br /><br />I miss my father deeply and I’d give anything to have him back with me so I could spoil him and enjoy him and tell him how much I appreciate all the good he made possible in my life. I can’t redo this, not with my father anyhow, but there are others with whom it’s not too late. Maybe you have someone too. Let’s face it, the only thing we’re going to take with us when we leave this place is our relationships so let’s make them worthy of an afterlife. <br />Blessings.<br />Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-25959824125967474542007-12-19T15:34:00.000-08:002007-12-19T15:41:22.975-08:00Oh Holy Night<p class="MsoNormal">For me this “holiday season” is about Christmas.<span style=""> </span>It always has been, both as an inherent aspect of my culture and my religious faith.<span style=""> </span>I don’t resent anyone else having their own set of observances and celebrations although it’s difficult for me to keep all that straight, when to say Merry Christmas, which acquaintances or co-worker to give a card to and which not, etc. so I decided I wouldn’t and don’t plan to worry about it.<span style=""> </span>I think those of us who are truly celebrating the birth of Christ should be content to do so with our friends and family who share our beliefs and with spreading <span style=""> </span>our cheer and good-will primarily amongst ourselves, not self-righteously expecting that others defer themselves to our dogma . <span style=""> </span>Once upon a time our society was predominantly Christian-oriented but not anymore. <span style=""> </span>This holiday (as well as several others) has been hijacked by the mercantile segment of the population for its own profits and gains and we have contributed to this happening. <span style=""> </span>If I had my way, much about the season would change and my hard-earned dollars would find their way into more fitting coffers. <span style=""> </span>Of course, I do have my own way and am gradually making necessary adjustments.<span style=""> </span>Bucking long-held traditions isn’t easy.<span style=""> </span>But I’m getting older, crankier, and I hope wiser.<span style=""> </span>I’m not as easily swayed by Hallmark sentiment or the strains of Joy to the World over the loudspeaker in Walmart. <span style=""> </span>This no longer incites me to spend money I don’t have.<span style=""> </span>It does remind me, however, that I’m immensely fortunate to live in a nation where I have the freedom to practice my faith as I see fit and to spend the few dollars I have left over after taxes on whatever I desire. <span style=""> </span>There’s no doubt in my mind that things were better in our nation when God was welcome in more places and prayer was an acceptable form of public speech but the fact that not everyone realizes this does not faze me.<span style=""> </span>And if I, in a momentary fit of general good will find myself wishing someone a “Merry Christmas” and realize that they’re not receiving my words in the spirit intended, well, I’m not going to worry about that either.<span style=""> </span>As I said, for <i style="">me</i>, this holiday season <i style="">is </i>about Christmas, about Christ and His birth and life and death and all that it means.<span style=""> </span>I’d say I’m sorry for being so traditional and politically incorrect, but I’m not.<span style=""> I couldn't possibly be. </span>Blessings to all.<span style=""></span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""><br /></span></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-49804543957204831472007-12-13T10:12:00.000-08:002007-12-13T11:45:35.292-08:00LaunchingEvery so often someone will say, oh I read your blog, and ....whatever response they had to it...and it reminds me that I haven't posted in a while. I write all the time because I journal daily, I'm part of a memoir writing group and I participate in a monthly online forum called Book-in-a-Week where members sets daily page goals that they will write during a one-week period. It's so easy to drift away from writing because it is hard work and can be mentally and emotionally draining as anyone who writes knows all too well. I've started several projects to post here but for one reason or another, I don't finish them up and post until I get the I-read-your-blog reminder. One reason I wanted to begin a blog at all is to get some exposure for and feedback to my writing because I do aspire to publish but lacked confidence. The feedback I've received has been motivating and helpful, so, thanks and blessings to those of you who have taken the time to read and comment.<br /><br />Last time I wrote that I was beginning an association with a group called Ladies Who Launch. I attended a four-week session with four of five other ladies, some with established businesses and others in the incubation or launching stages of their business ideas. It was both productive and nurturing as I find it generally to be when a group of likeminded women get together to accomplish something. I learned some interesting things about myself, my ideas, and how differently the process of business building happens for women than it generally occurs for men. This is a main premise of the Ladies Who Launch network, that for women, these ventures don't necessarily get off the ground as the result of careful and purposefully structured planning but more organically, often as the result of some twist of fate or tribulation that sets the person onto a new life path long before they thought they were ready for such a change. This can be the loss of a job, a spouse's job loss or relocation, a child's illness, or any number of encounters with the unexpected. Life comes at you fast, the insurance company ad tells us. How women respond to these alterations in the cosmic fabric is often to design and tailor a new fashion line, something they've wanted to do since forever but never had the opportunity The furnace of adversity just becomes a better place to bake that great bread recipe they found, and hey, while we're at it, let's open a deli. I started a successful business once and it was just that way, organic, absolutely macrobiotic. It had a life of its own from the beginning and was the pinnacle experience of my life, bearing me on angels wings over fifteen of the most trying years of that same life. When the thought first came, it seemed impossible; I had so little to work with, yet somehow those crumbs were enough. I want to do it again. By the grace of God, I will. I feel it pressing through the soil and ready to emerge into the sunlight. <br /><br />If you are interested in incubating some long-dormant dream and desire and want to network with others who are in all stages of the process, log onto the Ladies Who Launch website - www.ladieswholaunch.com. Women working together - there's no limit on what can be done. Let's face it, we've been bringing new things to the world since the beginning.<br /><br />Until the next time.<br />Carolcarol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-3487299019352048012007-10-03T17:12:00.000-07:002007-10-03T17:53:16.683-07:00Incubating<p class="MsoNormal">I recently read that the secret of success was being able to make what you are doing interesting to other people.<span style=""> </span>The key to this is to be <i style="">personally</i> interested and enthusiastic enough about your own doings and this<i style=""> </i>is what others will find interesting, Great, I thought.<span style=""> </span>I’m doomed.<span style=""> </span>When all is said and done, my life has not been particularly interesting and more than likely only those who love me and are personally involved with me would find it so.<span style=""> </span>Still, I did realize <i style="">one</i> thing about me that people seem to find interesting.<span style=""> </span>Fortunately for me, this is the arena in which my dreams of success lie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>The other day on a walk I spotted a rope swing with a wooden seat hanging from a large old maple tree in the front yard of a home on North Broadway.<span style=""> </span>We don’t see this kind of homemade swing all that often anymore and the sight of it filled me with nostalgia.<span style=""> </span>A favorite activity as a child was swinging.<span style=""> </span>Each summer my two grandfathers would install a big rope swing somewhere on their property for the grandchildren, hanging them from as high a branch as it was possible- the higher the better of course for the long, deep swoops and lofty updrafts.<span style=""> </span>I was never happier than when I could swing for hours, soaking in the summer sunshine and fresh country air, my mind and spirit suspended somewhere above the trees, in the clouds, in the land of dreams.<span style=""> </span>I feel sorry for many children today who rarely have this kind of solitude and undisturbed time to incubate their thoughts and ideas, to repose with the creative angels in the land of new births.<span style=""> </span>This is where I developed a deep and satisfying relationship with myself, with my own thoughts, and ultimately with God.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">When I was young, I thought I would be an actress or a dancer, a writer and producer of important plays and programs, or of a great novel like Gone With the Wind.<span style=""> </span>I dreamed of being a scholar and teacher, or perhaps a preacher, someone who would inspire fertile young minds with a love for learning, for reading and writing and to following God. And then there was the constant urging of close friends who saw my future in social work and psychology, counselor to them all that I was. It all sounded good and some of it I did pursue for a time but I became sidetracked and never achieved any level of professionalism nor have I viewed myself as particularly successful. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I’m at a crossroads in my life again, seeking this success somewhere, somehow, chasing what has seemed like an elusive life’s purpose.<span style=""> </span>My latest endeavor is to participate in an organization called Ladies Who Launch.<span style=""> </span>I’ll be attending a session they’ve entitled an incubator, along with other searching women like myself. <span style=""> </span>We will share our dreams, our ideas, our needs.<span style=""> </span>From here we will hopefully “launch.” <span style=""> </span>I’ve toyed with the idea that I would make a good leader for one of these groups.<span style=""> </span>I’ve been preparing to launch for years. In this vein of thought this morning, I considered the idea of how I would go about effectively coaching another person on how to launch and the thought came to me to “make love to your own thoughts.<span style=""> </span>All births begin with such a union.” Let’s face it, if we’re not in love with what’s inside our own hearts and minds, what have we really got to give to others. I like that.<span style=""> </span>Birthing new ideas, this is what I want to do, being a mid-wife of sorts, encouraging and inspiring in a world that is desperately in need of both. Daydreams, night dreams, it’s all the same.<span style=""> </span>God speaks us into being and we learn to do the same, speaking some wonderful thing into being that wasn’t there before we came. I’m excited about this. I’ll keep you abreast of how it goes.</p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-89526794042011829772007-07-18T13:34:00.000-07:002007-07-20T09:00:37.383-07:00A Merry HeartI really took a vacation from this. Why is it so difficult to pick up again once you let your momentum die with a thing? This has been a major problem with me, and with so many others that I know, for the better part of my life. I always find beginnings exciting. I fairly sparkle with enthusiasm and grand ideas but all too soon, usually with the advent of the first real problem, I'm like one of those balloon figure-things that businesses put outside to attract attention - flailing away first at the sky then nearly flopping to the ground until a fresh blast of enthusiasm sets me upright again. Oh well. I do tend to accomplish a thing or two in my "outbursts" but it's the consistency factor that I'm lacking and where, it seems to me, real progress is made. In any event, here I am again intending to tilt at windmills for a bit.<br /><br />Today I read Proverb 15:15 which states that "he who has a merry heart has a continual feast." It made me think how we generally turn this situation around in our heads to read that continual feasting will give us a merry heart or something similar. Favorable circumstances are to us the key to happiness, to joy and laughter and yet this word of wisdom reverses the order and tells us that keeping our hearts merry will produce this feeling of having supped sumptuously, drank lavishly, and connected socially in deeply satisfying ways. That is after all the essence of a true feast, is it not? This feast is described as continual, an everyday party for the soul. I like that. I have a great desire for this enduring type of fulfillment and satisfaction and must confess I have yet to experience it. The trick would seem to be in finding ways to <span style="font-style: italic;">keep</span> the heart in a merry state of being. Interesting. In place of the usual quest for more of that outside ourselves which we perceive brings satisfaction, is put a preoccupation with merriment, laughter, joy, gratitude, good cheer and the maintenance of that condition. It obvious to me as I consider this, that there wouldn't be much room left over for worry, depression, criticism, complaining, listening to the news (I had to thrown that in. What a dreary litany of misery is most of what broadcasters call the news!) or all the "cares of the world" that we tend to be obsessively concerned with and involved in and which leaves us with that persistent, nagging, hungry feeling, eventually results in dis-ease of some kind or another. In another proverb we're told that "a merry heart does good like a medicine."<br /><br />My new strategy then is to find ways to keep my heart, the wellspring of my life, in a state of merriment, of cheerfulness. This should be fun, although a challenge. Life is full of what could be interruptions to joy, unless that joy runs deeper than the earth's surface, and deeper than the physical heart of a human being. Each of us needs to discover our personal wellspring, that ultimate source of reality to which we must acquiesce for without this, maintaining a delighted heart is impossible. We must know that ultimately all is well, that the universe and all its beings are in capable, loving hands and that there is a sound plan and purpose at the bottom of it all. Then we can relax, like children growing up in a good home with loving parents. It's not difficult for such children to be merry, to consider themselves "lucky", and to fall asleep with satisfied smiles upon their sweet faces at night. <br /><br />I keep going back to that which I've lost from childhood. It seems important somehow to get some of it back, to revive the fires that fueled my growth and progress for so many years, and which made life a continual banquet of adventure and discovery. What's <span style="font-style: italic;">your</span> thoughts about this? I'd be interested to know - truly. Keep smiling.carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-59278205621767217492007-02-07T16:26:00.000-08:002007-02-07T16:29:54.398-08:00Over My Head<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes I get totally overwhelmed by my life, primarily because I’m a person who compulsively involves myself in many things and in the past, at least, seemed to attract a lot of crisis.<span style=""> </span>The latter is no longer true, thankfully, because I have learned how to detach from unhealthy situations with near lightening speed. However, I still find myself totally in over my head with things to do and people to see and though it doesn’t always feel as though I’m going to be able to handle it all, I not only manage but often exceed all my boundless expectations. In thinking about it, I’ve come to believe that it’s actually a good way to live - especially so for the spiritual side of me.<span style=""> </span>When I live with comfortable margins for excessive periods of time, I find the corners of my being gathering nasty little dust-balls and spiders’ webs; my faith starts to shrink and show signs of unattractive flabbiness. <span style=""> </span>Discontent and ingratitude thrust wispy tendrils into my disposition and I get whiney.<span style=""> </span>I hate being whiney. My ambition level sinks to that of a sea slug and I sigh a lot.<span style=""> </span>I know we need appropriate r & r and self-care so we don’t burn out, but honestly, I do believe I’d rather burn out than fizzle out.<span style=""> </span>Walking the edge is where I find my awareness and experience of the Spirit to be the most keen and exhilarating.<span style=""> </span>I’ve never been a good swimmer but I did learn to float and that made all the difference in my ability to enjoy the beach and boating and to fly over bodies of water.<span style=""> </span>What I’ve experienced of the Spirit’s ability and willingness to buoy me in the turbulent waters of my many life streams, has convinced me that I can take risks with myself and that life abundant is an achievable ambition and I don’t need to be completely in balance or have precise control of the details for this to occur.<span style=""> </span>Truthfully, it’s kind of fun here in the asylum. You meet the most fascinating people.</p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-55972695400623724832007-01-25T07:48:00.000-08:002007-01-25T07:51:10.131-08:00who is my brother?January 25, 2007 blog<br /><br />Dealing with self-destructive people has been a theme in my life from earliest memory. Maybe you’ve experienced the same thing. Usually these people are addicts of some kind but sometimes not. They may be people who maintain control in their life by never taking anyone else’s advice or allowing a conviction they once form to brook any challenge or change, even though the ramifications in the life of the individual and those who try to relate to them is disastrous. The addicts may be easier because you can see what they’re doing pretty clearly if you’re around them enough, despite the barrage of defensive lies they tell and the numerous justifications they concoct for their actions. The other type can drive you crazy because you can’t see the substance that hijacked their brain, turning their thought processes to mush or rather to cement. The worse part is, that if exposed long enough to their rationale, your own brain can turn to mush and you’ll find yourself walking around in a constant state of confused double-mindedness. Of course they’re not trying to hurt themselves, you say, they’re fine. See them go. They work, eat, sleep, play, and create. No, you can’t get very close to them and they say and do things in those rare unguarded moments that make your skin crawl and their relationships in general are awful and unsatisfying to both parties, but gee, who’s perfect? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m just being paranoid maybe or judgmental or maybe what I’m seeing plays into my own fears – about me.<br /><br />It seems to always come down to control, who has it. After years of struggle with these people, the realization slowly dawns that I sure as hell don’t, pardon my French. It’s obvious they don’t either or they wouldn’t be struggling so hard to keep a wall between themselves and the truth. What can chip through that wall? Should I be chipping at all; is it my business? That old question again, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” raises its head and echoes down through the ages from ear to ear, age to age. It is a question that deserves an answer. If anyone has one, I’d be most grateful to hear it.carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-44589544131730834662007-01-17T15:50:00.000-08:002007-01-17T15:53:12.835-08:00Get out of the way.<p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>I’ve long been the queen of self-help.<span style=""> </span>To some degree, I’ve been successful in helping myself by virtue of a regimen of constant reading and searching for answers to what I’ve perceived to be my many problems and utter lack of knowledge about how to resolve them.<span style=""> </span>Problem is that self-help takes a lot of energy and when all is said and done, results in the accumulation of a handpicked storehouse of knowledge which may or may not be of the highest relevance and effectiveness primarily because, let’s face it, the person who amassed it didn’t know what she was doing to begin with.<span style=""> </span>Do you see my point?<span style=""> </span>It’s much like a mentally ill person diagnosing themselves and prescribing their own treatment. <span style=""> </span>Not that I haven’t sought objective advice ever but even in that it was I who drove the process, fitting my choices into my already carefully constructed view of what constituted truth, justice, and the American way.<span style=""> </span>Today the thought came to me, from on high I believe, that I should get out of the way, that essentially self-help is no help. <span style=""> </span>I’m still struggling with that last part. <span style=""> </span>In keeping with my desire for a more childlike (not childish, there’s a big difference) outlook on and approach to life, I should relinquish some of my habitual interference with the feeding and care of – me.<span style=""> </span>Do normal, healthy children of good parents concern themselves constantly with these things or with the opportunities for growth and good progress that will be provided for them?<span style=""> </span>No, they do not. They are busy playing.<span style=""> </span>Play is their work and they work hard at it. Certainly they grow in their abilities and mature into big people who will eventually take their useful place in society.<span style=""> </span>However, the manner in which they approach this new status will have everything to do with how successfully, in the fullest sense of that word, they will fulfill the position.<span style=""> </span>Jesus, when questioned about who would be greatest in the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">kingdom</st1:PlaceType> of <st1:placename st="on">God</st1:PlaceName></st1:place>, set a small child in the middle of the group as the answer. Interesting. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>It’s a thought I want to pursue or perhaps more realistically, a directive to obey.<span style=""> </span>It’s shouldn’t be that hard, should it?<span style=""> </span>There’s probably a self-help book somewhere on the topic.</p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-37222767260944821912007-01-09T14:08:00.000-08:002007-01-09T14:13:08.979-08:00AccessJanuary 9, 2007 blog<br /><br />As I was spending quiet time with the Lord and journaling my thoughts this morning, it occurred to me that I was immensely grateful that, at any time of the day or night, I had access to Him. I could enter His presence simply by turning my mind to Him. What a privilege, I thought, and to be perfectly honest, there have been innumerable situations in my life that I wouldn’t have survived, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and even physically, had I not been able to do so. There have been instances when I was completely overcome with a sense of helplessness that only found remedy in prayer and the mysterious counsel that often serves as the sole answer. As a long time practicing Christian, this awareness of the benefits of access was not new and did not comprise what I’m considering for the purpose of these blogs, an odd thought, but what followed in my mind after my paean of praise and gratitude was the idea that perhaps, He did not have the same access to me and that the desire and need on His part was as great as my own. Imagine! Not that I think God requires my help to survive in any way. Yet, He has gone totally out of His way, putting Himself in some extremely awkward positions, if the scripture is to be believed, in order to convince the human race that this is His very desire, to have access to us, in the most intimate and purposeful of ways. Though I am never thwarted, other than by unbelief or guilt, in my attempts to contact Him, He regularly is when it comes to making conscious contact with me, because I’m a busy person and my mind is filled with the need to attend to the myriad aspects of my human existence that enable me to live in the civilized world with any success at all. I need to focus my attention and remember and make lists and take action or I will soon be left in the dust of failure, in my work, my human relationships, even in my spirituality. How can I possibly be expected to be readily available whenever the Almighty comes a-knocking? How do I know it’s actually Him after all? I don’t know to be honest. I haven’t received a satisfactory answer yet. I only know the thought was there and needed to be considered because it all ties in with finding my life’s purpose and being able to live it out, an endeavor foremost in my mind at this present juncture in my earthly life. The journey is a short one and can be interrupted at any point, without apparent reason or explanation so it’s vitally important to get it settled. Too many wrong turns can make you too late for the party after all and what a disappointment that is for all involved.carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074869030495728714.post-90618831831712217052007-01-06T07:22:00.000-08:002007-01-06T08:38:41.991-08:00Take me to the playground, please.<p class="MsoNormal">So today I blog for the first time, letting a portion of the contents of my brain and soul spill out onto the internet for others to see, a feat I would have found impossible to dare to dare in the not so distant past.<span style=""> </span>Putting my words out for others to read has been, in my mind at least, akin to standing undressed on a street corner.<span style=""> </span>But here I am, having finally come to accept the fact that small children won’t be struck blind by the sight or gross humiliation my eternal lot.<span style=""> </span>I was about to say that maturity has allowed me to be more accepting of myself and to take my public persona less seriously but perhaps it wasn’t that at all but regression. <span style=""> </span>In any event, my ambitions and desire to communicate has overridden my fears at last so here I am.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I instantly liked the title of this blog site when it came to me.<span style=""> </span>I firmly believe that God is constantly speaking into His creation in a variety of ways but especially through the human mind and mouth.<span style=""> </span>Many of those thoughts are what we would consider odd, out of the range of the normal blather that comes to us from the media, the gossiping neighbor, or mate sitting across from us at the breakfast table.<span style=""> </span>More often than not they spring forth from the mouths of children but then, who takes them seriously?<span style=""> </span>I hope I can get out of the way with my maturity, education, and shyness, my desire to be “literate” and “professional” to be able to let these god-thoughts out without too much censor and censure. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My odd thought for today is that this world is one big playground for children of all ages and when we know that, our lives remain interesting and joyful, as they were before we discovered crises and problems and fear and got hooked on the rush.<span style=""> </span>When I was a child, I played hard and found delight and motivation in every new experience and the challenges that accompanied them.<span style=""> </span>I was not dull.<span style=""> </span>I spoke my mind. I sang and danced freely and with little self-consciousness. <span style=""> </span>I got lost in stories and could “hear” what they were telling me. I did forbidden things and got punished but that didn’t deter my spirit of exploration and invention – at least not initially.<span style=""> </span>Eventually though, and I consider that day a day of death from which I had to be eventually resurrected, my spirit became sodden with worry and the main struggle of my life since has been to extricate myself from its shackles.<span style=""> </span>I’m getting there and with the help of the god-thoughts and the children, I’ll recover totally.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>carol williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505296038923691985noreply@blogger.com0