To the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach! 

I feel like I'm being asked, and thus I am answering.   But who am I answering?

My heart is wounded... not that that isn't the typical human condition.  I was noticing the extent of the pain, and was stopping to really truly feel it deeply rather than block it.  I can hear Pema Chodron's words in my ear...open to the soft spot, and then feel the compassion for every person who ever felt this way (something like that).  For whatever good it does the world, I've got your back!  I definitely cried enough, am crying enough.

But can I be what you need?  The poem (How do I love thee?, Elizabeth Barrett Browning) touches me and reminds me to focus on the only love that matters, the one with an Eternal source.  Yet the elements of that Source are those of you who need the love to pour freely.  Do I have enough?  Can I be enough?  I don't alway believe that I can endure it.  It is sometimes so insurmountable, becomes so overwhelming, that I know I've lost my direction. 

I watch you writhe in pain, or need, in anger and frustration, in doubt of my intention or the intentions of others... and it sinks solidly and deeply to my heart.  Can I wash it away, can I assist in the surgery?  Will my resolve to do so help in the least?  Will you let it?

And so, I surrender.  I am not enough.  I never could be.  "I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!"  It's all that I can do from here.  The Eternal is your only answer.

SONNET #43, FROM THE PORTUGUESE

By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

There's this thing that seems to pop up all over the place.  When we find our loops and patterns, there were beginning incidents or situations that set them rolling.  We become "who we are" because of these.  It's reactionary.  Not always a horror by any means...  Some of our best qualities are set in place by the same method.  But that isn't what I was working on a couple days back. 

A friend told me that she read a book that underlined the principal that both sides of the coin are important.  Looking at our strongest aspects and deepest talents can come from loops as well.  I always tell the kids, "Would it be horrible to become a teacher like your great grandmother, you grandparents, your mom?"  The answer could be no... of course it's a wonderful calling and a noble occupation.  The answer could be yes, if they were following it because they copped to something that the family knew well and that was merely easy to fall into, rather than actually "being it within". 

So whether it's Landmark Education, the AA Book, Shadow Dancing, or any number of other sources that mention it... I am still going back to look at those admissions of patterned behavior... back to the Fifth Step.  (If you're just jumping in, you might want to read the other blog two down first.)

Where did it all begin?  Can you really and truly rationalize to the exact moment?  Some say you can, and encourage you to face it.  I don't have a memory that works that well.

The first two themes to attack were (short form) not accepting help and being perfectionistic (ok, ya, I know, there was way more to it... but I just read it again, I don't need to retype it). 

I was a year old when my brother was born.  The stories are totally telling that this was the beginning of these patterns.  I controlled the whole of the family endeavors from that moment... and according to mom "when (I)she was four, we all gave up and just let her do it".  Ya, ok.  I'm guessing it was earlier.  But why would a one year old be in charge?  How ridiculous is that?!  Other stories that I have heard tell how I was the one that went for diapers or fed the baby.  I was a baby!  Hello.  So for the strengths and the weaknesses, here is where a pattern begins.  I was the only granddaughter, the only daughter, the first born.  I was acknowledged for my independence and for everything that I did perfectly.  It was a role built well and built solidly and luckily, oh my gosh, luckily I had the capabilities to fill it.

I can have compassion for that baby.  My heart can send it love and acceptance and the chance to make mistakes and be free, to be a child.  And there's where I should sit and "be" for a while.  A chance to make mistakes and be free, imagine that!

My third theme was based around taking care of myself, having a hold on human existence, and oddly, as the last two were merged to one, this one is two. 

I've always had religion, always had a strong belief system.  It is very different today than it was twenty years ago, or forty years ago, but the underlying Source, the Eternal, was just twisted to fit the times.  Being dead (wow, morbid) holds no concern.  I don't think it ever did.  Where did that start?  How do I find a beginning to it?  I can remember getting chills down my spine (like chakra/kundalini style... but I was Catholic enough not to know) when I was really young, when we prayed at the dinner table.  I remember God holding me in his hand above my body when I was particularly distraut.  How old was I?  I was a kid.  Weird.  So sometimes when it's so much more peaceful or comforting or loving being really connected, it's hard to hold onto a point for hangin' on the planet. 

Where is my resolve here?  How do I remedy that?!!!  I try to keep a hold on a purpose.  I certainly have fun, enjoy the people, love the nature, that stuff...  I certainly am indebted to the love of my family.  But how do I free myself from this particular loop?  I don't know. 

The other side of this isn't half as deep, and does fall under the perfectionist category in one way.  If I can't really be "successful" at taking care of myself, what's the point?  I'm trying to think of an early defining moment.  Maybe I was a little kid at the doctors office, and the doctor said I should play more or drink less koolaid or something stupid like that.  It could have been that my mother dieted or worked on exercises a lot... like she wasn't perfect just as she was.  I had a great aunt that was a little ADHD with her word control... she was certain to point out body flaws.  Maybe there's something there.

I think my compassionate loop breaking self would say "listen".  It's not a listen to the doctors or the media or the aunt... it's a listen to the internal self.  If I can stop long enough to be self centered in this area, I'll be treating this tool that God gave me as a gift more appropriately.  Can I let the perfectionism go?  All or nothing?  I guess I have to look back at that baby again, free it, give it the chance to make mistakes!

The fourth theme was non-comformity, like I fought the law and I won...  I think I usually used this against injustice as a kid, so where did it actually begin.  I guess when you think about my first story about my mom's words, maybe there?  If they were truly trying to break this controlling little baby out of the "leading the family" role, then I must have been fighting all the way.  Why?  Did something crumbling happen where if they had done it my way all would have been well?  Or was it that when I was in charge things did go well?  That's possible.  There was just no "time" for anything then.  My mom had three of us in three and a half years.  My dad was working full time and being a full time student too... so I probably was the sanest one in the house!

So when the rebel me arises (when you hear her say "jump" in the elevator), where should I go?  I need to recognize that this toddler self does not have all of the answers and doesn't need to "win" over anyone.  It'll be safe and ok to do "it" differently.  Someone else can have control, and the success will still come!  Will the toddler inside me believe that?  Maybe if I let it be proven a few times over?

Now I'll go back to the drawing board, back to find the things that I don't know.  I suppose I didn't really know all of this... or maybe I've never really thought it through well.  I have a goal, by the way.  I'm addressing my ego.  I'm recognizing what makes this human form tick, so I can distinguish it from my spiritual self.  It's definitely interesting, to me anyway. : )  Have fun with your own inventories!  Keep peelin' those ego layers.  I'll meet ya on the other side.

Milkshake will die.  Probably not tomorrow or Sunday.  Probably Monday.  I don't know what brought us out to where she is.  Or rather, I do, but it was obscure and strange.  One of the cats had been tragically declawed in the outside world.  Purrfect Pals reclaimed it, went and brought it back.  It resided in a special area of the shelter.  It specifically needed a chance at a long term friendly human experience... but hmmm... that was a different cat.

When I was petting the black long haired cat, Milkshake, a staff member mentioned that she was in a lot of pain, was having a lot of problems.  Two of the staff were discussing how to get the vet date set for euthanization. 

I stayed with her until she tired of me.  I talked to her about how much I appreciated the time she gave us, gave the world.  She purred.  It's sad, and it's not.  How strange is it that the declawed cat was the focus of our arrival?

Today, yet again today, I spent hour after hour after hour sorting the "things" that made my mom's life of value (earlier in the day).  Democrat paperwork... recycle.  Stacks and stacks of teaching materials... recycle.  Books and counters and baskets and teaching supplies... Salvation Army.  Masters Thesis paperwork... recycle.  Cards and ideas and creations. Done, gone, over... nothing. 

That's it.  In the Looney Tunes crescendo... Bleep, bleep, bleeep, blleeeeep...That's all folks.

Where does that leave you?  What is of value?  Who are you? 

It ends, this ends... then what?  What do you do with the moments you have? 

Many things sent me to the book the Alchemist (Paulo Coelho).  But the fact that I actually took it into the woods, and to the cabin with me, should be viewed as odd.  It was not in my plans to read.  Reading distracts me, takes me away from the Source with which I meant to connect.  I decided synchronicity  overruled; it had something to say.

The book is short.  It is neither complicated nor overly poetic, but it most certainly speaks volumes on our actions of today.  It asks each of us to reflect about our journey.  Are we following our "Personal Legends" or repeating stagnant loops?  Are we walking the path of love, of constant striving?  Most certainly, the fictional character of the tale faces adversity, as do we.  The lesson is that we all go on.  We continue.  We use tenacity of self to BE, to BEcome.

I love this example.  I love that the cabin I am in reflects one man's "Personal Legend".  He may never know... but he strives for nothing less.  Brad Whitsell's Cabin at Mount Pilchuck (www.mountpilchuck.com) has the story of the Alchemist in it's shadow.  The main cabin was once the ski lodge of Big Four Ski Resort out of Granite Falls.  Decades ago, Brad's father bought the lodge and had it driven miles down the road to a river front property.  And there it sat.  Brad now laments about how hard it was for him to watch the small, rotting, A frame sit untouched, for countless years.  But if the restoration was the father's "Personal Legend", he missed the space for action.  From the outcome, it doesn't matter.  Brad is unfolding the Legend with the skill and love of the boy in the Alchemist.

With such passion, vision and love, Brad has taken an historical legend and transformed it.  It is beauty, history, and immeasurable labor, open to the world.  He shares this place and himself, his "Personal Legend", with every visitor.

I am certainly left with the challenge of pursuing my own ways to impact the world.  I can reflect on times when I followed my Legend admirably, in marrying Eric, in having the girls and choosing to quit work, in unfolding into countless volunteer endeavors.  The twists and turns that matter are the ones that were not easy to predict.

There are more to come.  I am sent on yet another journey, another goal (or two), and where those lead, you'll just have to stay tuned and find out!

The Lion King came up in meditation.  "Simba, remember who you are"... the culmination of generations, the merged being of the all.  Who am I?

If I use this feline philosophy, it's something utterly spectacular.  My paternal great grandmother was the founder and distinguished manager of the historic Bon March Tea Room.  In days where women were home, she raised a son alone, amassed wealth beyond reason, and was renowned in the corporate world of the day.

My maternal great grandmother  was equally strong.  She raised a large family, ran a dairy, lived through the complete loss by fire of at least two homes (maybe she was a pyro, ha ha), and lived to be the sweet woman in pearls that cooked with strong spices and pepper that I still remember.

My grandmothers could not have been more different from one another.  Grandma Plumb was vital and aloof.  She was talented in anything that she touched, creative and artistic in strategic ways, and crazy mathematical with reasoning and logic behind every move.

Grandma F was the proverbial book grandma.  She was soft and loving.  Empathy and caring were her outstanding skills.  She, too, had a flair for art, painting and drawing.  She would spend countless hours with anyone who needed someone to listen.  If the phone rang, she sat down and gave her concentrated effort to being the one who cared.

And Mom?  She was definitely the daughter of this grandma.  I know that as I grew, everyone liked to be at our house over all others.  Mom made everyone feel welcome.  There was always dinner for anyone who was around.  Her love was well known, and she shared it wherever she was, without thought or bias or management of energy.  As she went through the process of "death by cancer", her concern was always for the other.  She worried about US!

Can it be true?  Am I actually a culmination of these ancestors?  I have large boots to fill if this is the case, a lot of work yet to be done.  Remember who YOU are!

As I finished the last blog, one thing stood out beyond the others.  I have a legacy of incredible depth.  But that is not true for everyone... or it appears not to be.

I believe that there are gifts and wonders within each individual.  But I also recognize that some have those hidden from the world, and often hidden from children in the genealogy of things.  Overcoming history can be a legacy in itself.

I do not have grand examples in my own life.  My mother worried excessively.  I do not worry, not truly.  I overcame that lack.

A friend of mine had parents that were physically abusive (likely more than one!)... and she puts great effort into parenting with alternate forms of discipline.  She used her legacy to grow beyond the patterns of her ancestors.

Everyone has that potential.  None of us is stuck in a pattern of repetition beyond emerging.  So one of the ways of respecting and valuing our lineage is to grow and become more.  Perhaps this goes back to the book the Alchemist.  We must each fulfill our "Personal Legend".