Age : The Golden Attribute

I saw the above post on a FB page today and I was immediately inspired to write.  This is a subject near and dear to my heart...that of the limitations of age.  Here's what I believe...

If you hear yourself saying 'if only I were younger' or  'I’m too old to...’ you are not living the life you were meant to live.  You are shortchanging yourself of many fantastic experiences.  I believe the issue is more one of size, rather than action.  Meaning, at 18, when I took up skiing, much like an unrestrained toddler I threw myself on the slope.  I was young, resilient, no thought given to broken limbs, concussions, or lost wages.  Life was meant to be lived, here, now and big!

What's Keeping You From Marrying A Young Italian

Expectation is a powerful force. Combine that with preconceived notions and you have the potential for a huge and unnecessary hurdle.  I was reminded of this the other day when I was watching an old movie with Olivia De Havilland called Light in the Piazza. It’s a sweet tale of a mother who’s daughter becomes mentally impaired after suffering a serious injury in childhood.  The daughter, now aged 26, and mother take a holiday in Florence.  Very watchful and protective of her extremely lovely, yet equally innocent daughter, Olivia is surprised and concerned to find her daughter has sneaked away, met a young Italian, and in 1 afternoon fallen in love.  Although she makes every attempt to keep the 2 apart, the boyfriend, played by the dashing George Hamilton is overcome with amore for his lady love, delighting in her innocent, childlike nature, joie-de-vive, and purity.

Sometimes You Gotta Cry to Reach Your Dream

For awhile I stopped writing my blog because I didn’t feel I had anything inspiring to offer, after all that is what this blog was designed to do.  But lately, life has thrown me for a loop, putting extra stressors and challenges in my path at every turn.  I have hidden this away not wanting to share a side of me that struggles and isn’t standing strong all the time.

In the last few days I have come to recognize the strength it takes to keep muddling through.  I have come to acknowledge that it’s OK to feel weak (something I absolutely abhor), to give in.  It's OK to feel defeated provided  I only choose to visit this place and not 'live' here.

Four years ago I set out on a path to menopausal nirvana, the land of purpose and fulfillment after motherhood.  I wanted to ‘get it right’, to make choices that were the very best for me, (taking into account that I am happily married).  In that time I have:

Faced and overcome a lifetime of feeling stupid due to undiagnosed learning disabilities by attaining my personal training certification (a self taught program including a text book of 500 pages...my disability is dyslexia).  

I have attended countless networking meetings populated by women in suits (hugely intimidating), where I felt totally ill equipped to even show my face let alone stand tall and proud introducing myself and my business. 

I have forced myself to be a presenter at a dozen or more meetings hoping I could inspire women to see themselves in a better light...to step into their greatness, while I was trying to step into mine.

I have floundered in my search for a passion and purpose, desperately seeking something I could really dig my teeth into, to feel inspired by, to call my own and share with others.

And, after 4 long years I HAVE found my voice.  I have spoken about my emotionally and verbally abusive father.  I have taken back my power and am creating programs to give women a voice.

Yet, as I am writing this, I am crying.  I am tired.  I am tired of climbing out of the place I used to live it.  I want so much more.  I can see bigger things.  But, each dream and each vision requires more courage and tenacity.  It requires more dedication, more guts, and more hard work.  And, I’m tired.

So, I have decided to start blogging again.  Because I want other women to know that although it looks like I am smoothly navigating this journey, I go forward with fear and doubt, and that’s OK...because, I will go forward...as you can go forward.  I will take time to re-fuel because no matter how quickly I want to get ‘there’ I need to take care of me, right now.  My heart and my mind need to rest.  I need strength to be courageous and that requires enormous amounts of self care and patience.  It’s OK to rest.  It’s OK to cry.  It’s OK not to have all the answers.  It’s OK that it’s not happening now.

I will continue to write because I want to inspire.  This is a challenging time, going from over attentive mom and wife to an independent woman of power.  But, there are so many great things that have come out of this journey.  I have some of the best friends I have every had in my life.  I am filled with purpose, knowing I have something to offer the women of the world.  I have a better understanding of the gifts that I have and a way that I can share them.  

So even though my business is in it's infancy,  that I will eventually changes women’s lives with my vision, I know that I am a enormously different woman than I was 4 years ago.  Because 4 years ago I didn’t even have The Dream.

Bingo at the Beach

I’ve been on vacation at the beach for the past 8 days.  The weather has been gorgeous, the temperatures perfect for beach play and porch revelry.  As the breeze whispers over my sun baked skin I wonder why I can’t relax. Why is it that in this most pristine of settings my stomach is all a-flutter. 

Sadly, I realize I have let a work issue glom all over my vacation  

As I ponder, I feel as though I have done everything I can do to ‘fix’ this slightly messy predicament.  As I go through my mental checklist I can say an unequivocal yes to all the ‘Did you...?’ questions that arise in my head. Still perplexed, and quite frankly tired of the butterflies inhabiting my mid-section in this most perfect of settings, I said to my husband ‘I don’t understand. Why can’t I let this go?’  And he replied, in his most Buddha-like fashion ‘It’s because you care so much and you want everyone to be happy.’  

Ahhh..... Bingo!

I think, as women, we are so innately wired to be caregivers that we frequently don’t even recognize we are carrying the burden of other’s happiness.  And, the reality is, as rewarding and fulfilling as it can be, it’s not our job.  

So, with my ah-ha moment came a little peace.  I’m reminding myself (several times today already) that I have done my best.  I have offered what I can with kindness, care and grace.  I can’t fix, or even smooth the way for all the individuals involved.  I can’t create their happiness. I can only do what I can do.  And, that’s enough. 

The Cozy Joy of a Good Rainy Day

There is a nice steady rain outside this morning.  I really do love a good rainy day.  Even if I have a busy schedule it always reminds me to stop, sit quietly (even if only in my head) and think.  I am immediately transported to a comfy chair, surrounded by my husband and boys (when they were little), special snacks on the table in the next room, the smell of them cooking still lingers in the air.   As we hunker  down to pass a day ‘stuck’ inside there’s almost an excitement in the air, an anticipation of good times to come. We will play board games, some wrestling (definitely a special version called Run Into The Pillow), and a favorite movie to top it all off.  I can hear the laughter.  I can taste the cookies.  I am wrapped in love as the comforting feeling of ‘Home’ washes over me.  Yes...I definitely love a good rainy day.

Play: The Rx to Happiness

When did playing become taboo?  That’s what I want to know.  As children, play is an integral part of both physical, mental and social growth.  As we rounded up our neighbors for a good game of Kick the Can we learned to cooperate, to follow rules, to encourage our peers, not to mention the chance to try out your new ‘tennies’ as we ran like greased lightening hoping, for at least for this round, to be ‘safe’.  Play taught us creativity and self confidence, hoola-hooping while singing a made up song about chocolate bars and Cheerios, or rolling down grassy hills for the simple pleasure of getting dizzy.  When did this pure expression of unfettered joy become unacceptable?  And, why?

The Power of the Tiara

A long time ago, my mother told me a story about a young mother named June Barry that used to live behind us.  She was probably in her early 30’s, had a gaggle of very little kids,  and her husband, who was a commander in the military, was gone all the time.

What I See When I Look At You

It’s time.  I have watched from the side lines and waited for it to happen.  I see glimmers now and then, breakthrough moments, like the sunshine peeking through the clouds after a storm.  But, I want more. I want to feel the awakening, like the boom of the grand finale at the fireworks display on the 4th of July.  I want to feel the celebration as if John Phillip Susa is leading an elegantly clad marching band right through main street, trumpets blaring and cymbals crashing.  Just like the brightest beacon on the tallest lighthouse.  I want to see you shine.  Because, it’s time.

The Rude Awakening: June Cleaver’s Retirement Plan

Apparently, I’m a newborn to this whole Women’s Revolution thing. I continue to be totally unprepared for the extent to which I have followed the path of the age old ‘typical female’. I readily admit to being overwhelmed by the situation I currently find myself in. I’m angry with myself, and wish I could place blame on someone else's shoulders.  However, the reality is, I hold all the responsibility for my current mental state. I must own that I alone gave over my power and learn from the experience. 

The Power Woman Years

Rock climbing, snowboarding, long-boarding, road cycling.  It seems like no matter what activity I’m doing the majority of the women around me are at least 30 years younger than I am.  Limber, loose, lean and lithe they scramble, fly, glide and pedal with an ease and energy I can only dream of.  Yet, as I watch them going through the machinations of being 20 something I feel nothing but joy for the life I have grown into as a 54 year old, bodacious woman.

I am a Spirited Woman

I used to think I was just weird, a square peg in a round hole, an anomaly amongst my own gender.  As a young girl I liked to play hard, run fast, jump high and throw a ball as fast as the boys, activities that were frowned upon by the adults of the day.  I was always too loud, too rambunctious, and too outspoken to be successful as a girl.   I tried my hardest to make myself smaller... ‘less than’ what I was, desperately seeking to fit in, to get ‘It’ right. Now, as a ripe, bodacious woman in her mid 50’s I have come to value all those big traits as the essential me.  I let it all hang out!  I’m loud when I want to be, rambunctious when the spirit moves me.  I love hard core sports activities like snowboarding, bouldering, and my newest joy long boarding, all of which attract, almost exclusively, 18 - 30 year old young men, and I'm OK with that.  I AM a Spirited Woman, and I’m damn proud of it.

Outing The Emperor Of Irrational and Bad Behavior

I work with women everyday that believe the lies.  Shoot, I believed the lies.  I believed what I was told as a child, on the playground, in the classroom, at ballet class and at home.  We were told that we were too loud, too sensitive, too dumb, too ugly. We slowly accepted those lies as truths, even though our heart and our eyes told us otherwise.  We lost faith in our own inner compass, buying into this distorted fairytale reality.  Much like the child in the crowd, we could see that the Emperor was naked but believed the crowd that he must be wearing clothes. 

There's No Such Thing as Too Old to Change

I’m not sure I understand the phrase Too Old to Change.  I guess because to me it sounds like defeat.  To me, if I uttered those words, it would mean I was giving up ‘The Possibility Of’.  Which just doesn’t work for me.  I’m a firm believer in possibility.  It is what gives me hope that I can re-create myself at 54, 64 and 74.  That I can change my career and my attitudes.  It is what allows me to participate in activities and adventure sports that usually attract people more than half my age.  ‘The Possibility Of’ is my lifeline to contentment.

The Best Day Ever

Today I am riding on a wave of happiness, support and love.  Much like Sponge Bob Square Pants doing his jig, singing his ‘It’s the Best Day Ever’ song, there’s a giddy-up in my step and a joy in my heart that is beyond description.  Where is all this exuberance coming from?  A weekend filled with our collaborative book launch Fearless Voices: True Stories by Courageous Women.  What a weekend!

Everything I Needed to Know I Learned on Facebook

Facebook really is a fascinating thing.  Much like your daily horoscope, or a taro card reading it seems that some days all the posts, quotes and images you see are bang-on  with where you are.  That’s how it was for me this morning.

As I continue my journey out of the mire of a past that binds, today’s posts and quotes reminded me to believe in myself and my path; to stick to what I know, in my heart, is right for me.  They were the perfect crib notes I needed to keep me on a positively productive path to self realization and contentment.

The Unknowing Enemy Within

It is a day of remembering lessons, and courage.  As I continue to struggle with redefining my relationship with my verbally and emotionally abusive father, to create a space for myself that is safe, attempting to build a new relationship or, at the very least, an understanding between us that is mutually beneficial, I find I continue to be challenged, and am fascinated by where the threat comes from, and the turmoil it presents.

The Courage to Find Your Voice

The first time I Found My Voice was when I was in high school.  Having grown up in a verbally and emotionally abusive household, my opinions were not valued.  My thoughts were not valued.  My voice was shut out.  I remember being frequently frustrated to the point of tears, thinking ‘This isn’t right! My opinion counts.  What I have to say matters.‘  But, it didn’t.

Women By My Side

It seems that all of my life I have been searching for a place to fit in.  To belong.  I’m not saying I haven’t had friends.  I have, and some were really great ones.  But, the need was always bigger than onesy-s and twosy-s.   I realize now, what I wanted was a community. 

The Powerful Story of Pam C.

As I sat in the corner booth at Panera, cold coffee in my cup, emotion washed over me.  I know there is a story in what just happened.  I can feel it.  I start writing, but gobble-de-gook comes out.  I start again...not much better.  So, I ask myself ‘What do I feel?’  Then, I listen for the answer.  It takes a few moments, but it comes to me like the proverbial dove with the olive branch...an offering.  The encounter made me feel grateful, proud and connected.  With this welling of abundance filling my heart I start to write.  I only hope I can do the story justice...

Ups and Downs: The Flow of Life

There are always going to be ups and downs to life.  I, for one, find I have a difficult time accepting that I have to deal with them, though.  I spent so much of my past life on an overwhelming rollercoaster of emotions I feel it’s somehow unfair. I figure, I did ‘The Work’ I needed to do to get me to the place that I am, a place of contentment with myself at a very base level, a place of joy in being a woman, a place of finally defining the terms of a relationship with an abusive father.  When I take the time to revel in this place of contentment I don’t want to feel anything but that...Content.

Mostly a Giggle...

I love absurdity.  I love when things happen that are so out there you can’t help but shake your head and say ‘what the heck?‘   I enjoy examining these little events with a microscope. Like a rare tiny treasure, I hold it up to the light, turning it over and over again in my hand, marveling at the cracks and crevices, the gold trim, and special clasp, the whole time wondering what other interesting prizes I will discover.

I was presented with such a gem recently, and I’m still shaking my head.  

The Joy of a Letter

Today, I am overwhelmed by how easy it is to have a positive impact on someone’s life.  Generally, when we think about helping others we think about the big picture, feeding hungry children in 3rd world countries, housing the homeless in our own home city, big things that require big money and big time.  At least, I do.  Yes, I’m familiar with the ‘smile at a stranger’ practice. But, that’s simple, it comes naturally to me.  I just don’t think of those kinds of things when I think of helping out my fellow man.  I always think it has to be big.

The Quiet That Cleanses My Spirit

It’s so easy to get sucked into the pull of life, to become a bobber being tugged with life’s currents this way and that.  I know what I need to do to maintain the inner calm I have grown to cherish, the quiet that anchors me to my inner peace.  However, I don’t always remember to fit it into the flow that life creates around me.

Woman

This is the post powerful time of my life.  For the first time I see myself as a free-standing, independent, individual, master of my universe and devoted disciple to personal growth and expanding boundaries.  I am, all at once, confused and amazed at the person I have become, the issues that move me and the community that I can finally call home.  I am a woman, something I have not always been proud of, and rarely identified with.  I am intoxicated with the power I now draw from all things feminine.  I am humbled by the women that have gone before me, fighting societal norms and restrictions to be heard, to be seen, to be human.  I am speechless with the bounty I feel from my circle of sisters, a community I never before belonged to and never thought I would.  This is what this powerful time feels like to me...overwhelming with abundance and the potential for enormous change.

Fearless Voices: Stories Safely Shared

The other day I was blessed to be surrounded by brave, creative women, all shapes and sizes, a variety of ages, backgrounds and careers.  We came together to celebrate, support, eat and share.  The food was wonderful, as it usually is when women get together, with lots of new combinations of ingredients that I don’t use, and vegetarian dishes I’m just learning to cook.  We were celebrating a journey of sorts, as we had all written a story about ourselves, a small snippet of our lives, from our timeline, a glimpse into what made us who we are today.  

A Perfection's Manifesto Of Freedom

This morning started pretty much like any morning. I walked into my ‘dressing room’, a 9X9 converted bedroom, where we now house our dressers.  It makes a perfect dressing room, with a nice big window, closet, wall space to hold 2 dressers and a mirror.  As I entered the room, like I do several times a day, I was assailed by my life long inability to put away my clothes.  There is some order to the chaos; stacks of clean are housed on top of the short faux-dresser under the window, winter wear (snowboarding clothes) religiously flung over the IKEA twin, futon-chair, dirties can always be counted on to be cascading down the outsides of the hamper in the corner, and the ‘maybe’s’ live contentedly in a small pile in front of the dresser.  Truthfully, there is not enough drawer space to hold the clothes easily, and I cling dearly to this thought as a way of assuaging my guilt and minimalizing my obvious shortcoming. 'Well..' I say to myself 'I'm definitely not perfect!'

The Value of Just Saying Thank You

How many times have you heard “Gee, you did a nice job.”  And, you’ve replied back “It was nothing. Any one could have done it.  No big deal.” Or, ‘Thanks.  But, ...was perfect, and   ...wasn’t really right.’

You might not have heard that exact compliment, or uttered that exact response. The point is that someone said something nice to you and instead of saying ‘Thank you’ and reveling in the praise, you play’d it down, or denied it’s validity.  You failed to accept the gift of a compliment either because you felt you weren’t worthy, you felt what you did wasn’t that special,  or you feared appearing vain.

A Tea and Toast Kind of Day

Today I am not inspired.  I don’t have a great passion roaring through my veins desperately seeking an outlet.  Today, I am just me.  I’m the ‘me’ that sits in my jammies until 9, sipping Vanilla Rooibos (how do you pronounce that, anyway?) and battling the internal conflict of oat bran over buttery, sweet, cinnamon toast.  (If I could eat sugary cakie yumminess all day long, every single day, I would be the happiest of woman.)  

Red Flags, and The Voice

Red flags, the mental type, are funny things.  Opportunities cross our path, dangled in front of us like the proverbial carrot before the rabbit. And, if we’re hungry enough we take off running, blinded by a free, sweet treat. In retrospect, that’s how I feel about my recent interview by a local newspaper reporter.  I was so caught up in the excitement of promoting my newly started, public speaking club that I didn’t pay attention to the little red flags waving in my brain, calling out, ‘Something’s not right here.  She’s talking over your answers.’

In The Service of Others : Who Really Needs the Care?

I recently read a facebook post by a woman encouraging women to be loving and tolerant in the service of others, an admirable reminder in these hectic times when women are attempting to balance all the demands on their lives.  But, I don’t wonder if we aren’t doing the women themselves the disservice.  It is my experience that women spend the majority of their time in the service of others.  We are taught (and possibly biologically wired) at a very young age to be the nurturers, the care givers, the comfort providers.  

An Old Tale For a New Year

There’s a traditional tale of an innkeeper, of the Old West, who’s lodge is perched just on the outskirts of a pioneer settlement.  One day a couple arrives, tired and dusty, having traveled all the way across the country.  “How are the people in the valley down the way?” the man asks the innkeeper. 

“How did you find the people in the village you just left?” the innkeeper asks in return.

“Lovely!” the man and women respond in unison. “They were kind and friendly.  So welcoming and warm. We really hated to leave.”