De-Queen of De-clutter

My sister-in-law crowned me De-Queen of de-clutter as I'm clearing out yet more clutter from my physical space and my mind.

TOILETRIES:

I’m running low on body lotions and shampoo. Naturally I want to go out and buy some more but lo and behold when I opened up my linen closet there they were stacks of toiletries: complimentary free samples received with the purchase of other items, tubes of partially used foot care products and most numerous of all - toiletries collected from hotels and motels over the years. Some, as you see in the basket on the left have been sitting "artfully" on top of the toilet - only they just look like clutter when you get down to it. The other basked I pulled out from the closet and there's still more in there. I just kept adding to the pile – so what better time to start using them than now. Actually, it’s kind of fun and makes me feel pampered using these gifts kindly provided by the hospitality industry. In a few more weeks I’ll need to replenish my stock either by purchasing more or going away for another weekend vacation.

UPDATE – JUGGLING CLUBS:

The back of my car no longer contains my juggling clubs - it took a lot of mind play to finally let them go. I kept remembering, with great fondness, the happy time around their purchase. Corny as it seems, Rod secured his first date with me using the pick up line “so, can you teach me how to juggle?” He got the idea when he saw me juggling for my future nephews and their parents; Rog (his brother) ask if I could teach his Beaver troop (Canadian version of the cub scouts, I think) to juggle. I agreed to take on both tasks. I had great success teaching the kids and Rod is finding that living with me is a constant juggling act.

But, the clubs needed to fly, not be relegated to being a decorative fixture in my house or ballast for my car. I dropped them off to the Burlington Re-use Centre and a few days later an 8-year old girl discovered them, begged and finally convinced her parents to buy them for her. Because, battered and scuffed as they were, she’d fallen in love with a dream. It was at that very moment that young, unfortunately named, Latisha LeFlamme’s life took a fateful turn from a pre-destined lifetime as a stripper working the seedy bars of Yonge street in Toronto to become the most popular headlining, juggling act of all time in Vegas. You can see her there in 2022. Can’t miss her billboard – she’s the one with flaming red hair, dressed in tails and black tights covering legs that seem to go on forever.

So knowing that Latisha is on track with her true destiny, due in no small part to me giving the clubs away, I breathe a sigh of relief.

MENTAL CLUTTER:

I am facing my greatest fears and therefore ridding myself of mental clutter that creates resistance and keeps me from moving ahead. While working on the Mac the Time Machine was telling me that I needed to backup my files and was prompting me to do so. My finger hovered over the cancel option when I asked myself if not now, when? When will I be more willing to face this? NEVER! Not now and not ever. So I did.

A big Ho’oponopono to Derek the technical support guy who had to deal with me.

“I’m totally new to all of this. I mean I really, really don’t know a word that you’ll be saying to me. It is a like you’re going to be teaching me a new language… just warning you. O.K.?” And he was O.K. with it and it was O.K. too.

After something that went like this,

“No I’m sorry Derek. I know what you’re telling me but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for.

If Time Machine will do it all for me do I really need this little box? …I do… it’s called a hard drive. O.K

I should see an icon of the hard drive on my desktop; ummm…what does it look like? Like a hard drive, oh you mean like the little box thingy. O.K. ... nope, nothing… And, my desktop is what exactly?

I need to turn it on? I thought it was on. No, it doesn’t have any lights or buttons…Oh wait, that thing, is that a button? They hide it really well don’t they?

Oh, is that what that’s for? Wait, wait I heard it. I think its working. Yup, there it goes. Oh, and there’s the icon too…"

Poor Derek. But I can hear the smile in his voice as he tells me they pay him well for what he does. I’m happy for him.

Actually, my fear is less about facing the computer stuff than it is about facing, or rather not facing, someone and being asked to follow directions. Talking to a disembodied voice feels somewhat like talking to a God-like all-powerful figure. I feel so insignificant and helpless; there’s no one to turn to when it’s just me and the person at the other end of the phone, but I’m learning that they hang in there and hash it out with me through thick or thin. Though I imagine it many times during our conversation, I’ve yet to have someone say “you’re hopeless” and hang up the phone. It's like they're saying, "we're all in there together," and I find this hugely reassuring.

SHOULDS SHOULDN'T and SHOULDN'TS SHOULD

This bit of logic is a tool one can utilize which will lessen one’s stress according to Byron Katie the author of such books as LOVING WHAT IS and I NEED YOUR LOVE, IS THAT TRUE?

If what is happening, in your opinion, shouldn’t be happening then you’re in for a lot of grief because the reality is that it is happening and therefore it is perfectly right that it should be happening. Conversely, if what isn’t happening, in your opinion, should be happening then again you’re doomed to a period of discontent as long as it isn’t because if it isn’t happening reality is showing you that this is just what should be happening until it doesn’t.

Got that?

I love this way of reasoning because you can’t argue with reality. Well, I guess you can but you’ll be miserable and exhaust yourself in the process and become a champion of a world that doesn’t exist no matter how much you protest.

How does this play itself out in my own life?

Here’s a simple example: I am learning how to use my new computer.

Let’s take a moment now to celebrate the fact that I am now, not because of but despite months of whining (a big Ho’oponopono to all who had to listen to my agonizing deliberations on the matter) am the proud owner of a MacBook Pro 13” laptop – yeah!

In the process I’m stumbling through a mental obstacle course of my own construction regarding shoulds and shouldn’ts (another heartfelt Ho’oponopono to all - friends and strangers alike who are trying to assist me through this learning curve).

In switching over to the MAC world from the PC one I’m realizing that what works in one world doesn’t necessarily compute in the other. So, what does all my, “I should be able to do this” and those, “this shouldn’t work this way” get me? Just a whole lot of agro, that’s what.

I shouldn’t be able to do something until I can – even if I once could in an old system. And things will work the way they do because I am in this new world; it’s me that needs to adjust to this new reality.

Basically, what I’m meeting is BEGINNER MIND (an egoless state in which everything - even if you've done it a gazillion times - is treated as brand new; a state of I DON'T KNOW in which anything is possible). My ego, which is taking quite a bashing over all of this, just labels me as stupid; which is not true – stubborn and surprisingly resistant to adapting is a more accurate assessment. And, it’s O.K., even desirable to be a beginner even though (or perhaps because) it means tearing down all that I have known in order to move on to something new, which I have desired and actively pursued for a long time.

So…I should be able to post this now…

____________________________________________________________________OOOOHHHHHH, YEEEEESSSSS!!!!!

I should because I can! And life is great! (I'm such a slave to the ego.)

This is such a relief; I can't tell you. I haven't been posting all this time because I wouldn't let myself go back to the PC but finally the tension over not expressing myself on the blog was greater than the fear of diving into newness (and the risk experiencing that "stupid" feeling yet again).

So, now feeling smarter than I did when I started this post, I'll say good night.

These shoes are made for walkin'

And that’s just what they’ll do Sun March 28th when I participate in the Hamilton’s Around the Bay 30K Road Race, the oldest of its kind in North America (yes even older than Boston – by 3 years).

What Flippy and I are asking is that if you wish to contribute to a worthy cause – St. Joseph’s Healthcare Foundation in Hamilton – you can sponsor me on my walk by clicking here.

There is no need to meet me at the finish line, believe me it’ll be a zoo. Last year I tried to meet my sister Candy there and exit 100 which merges onto Kings Hwy 403 and leads to York Blvd. was blocked! For those of you who don’t know, Hamilton, to anyone from the north side of Lake Ontario is what I imagine it’s like going to Australia – everything’s upside down and backwards. I ended up having a scenic tour of the beautiful city of Hamilton via its many one way streets.

Not only that, but if the odds work out, weather on race day most likely will be like it is Halloween night – cold, rainy and windy. I’ll be wearing my walking costume and instead of trick or treating I’ll be fundraising. So, let’s warm the cockles of our hearts and help the thermometer climb.

Flip and I and all those who will use the services of St. Joseph's thank you for your help and encouragement!

"AN ENTIRE NATION IS RELIEVED!"

The announcer declared as the team piled out on to the ice towards Sidney Crosby and Roberto Luongo. The sea of red and white in the stands became The Big Storm howling with deafening elation. Could truer words have been spoken?

What a game. As the clock ticked down the third period I was all prepared for the victory celebration, the crowd going wild, the elation that would pile out onto the streets; our red Canadian maple leaf mittens thrust thumbs up into the air, declaring “We are number one.” “Hockey is Canada’s game.” “We own it.” But memories of my father’s voice, full of mischievousness, kept cautioning me, “It’s not over till it’s over.”

How many Stanley Cup games had I shared with Dad and Mom, Uncle Lou and Aunt Helen (the Myers - relatives by choice) my brothers, sisters and an assortment of the Myers’ own 9 brood, our honorary cousins? Memories and emotions of those nights flooded back and though none of these people were present last night they might as well have been. Our little family room, inhabited by only Rod, me and Flippy was crowded and filled with the electric excitement of the past.

And then…the American player, Zach Parise, got that goal with only 25 seconds to go in the third period. Aarrgh, the agony of it all! It was going to have to go into another 20 minute period. Dad would have loved it! “A game should be close and well fought. You don’t want them to just walk away with it, what fun is that.”

My mind and emotions were flipping around all over the place. Oh God, how disappointing will it be if the US team wins (all relative of course – it would be disappointing for Canadians, not Americans). What if it goes to a shoot out? God I hate that – what a waste of all that great hockey and effort for it to come down to one guy and one goalie. If we win this we will have the most gold ever in the history of the Olympics…Canada of all countries (Canadians, stereotypically tend to be a modest, humble, polite breed. It’s acceptable for us to be good, but the best? That could challenge our concept of ourselves.)

Can I bear the intensity? Can I watch this, I asked myself. Of course whether we won or lost I would, I could, I had to. This is delicious anxiety, the kind that makes you want to ride that roller coaster and when it’s all over do it again.

And, how fitting was it that, 8 minutes into the over-time period, Cole Harbour’s Sidney Crosby scored the winning goal. The growing consensus of sports announcers across the country was that his accomplishments during these games were falling well short of expectations. And then he pulls this off. Good for him!

So there it was the puck went in and the crowd went wild…and I’m sitting there stunned in delayed reaction mode…HELLO… THE FIRST TEAM TO SCORE WINS they don’t have to play the whole 20 minutes.

The realization hit and I went nuts, yelling and throwing up my arms in victory and Flip, who moments before lay sleeping on the back of the couch by my head, flew from the back of the couch and tore out of the room.


I know, I know, in the scheme of things how important is all of this with wars and catastrophes going on in the world. But this too is life. For a moment I could let go of all the concerns, worries and sense of isolation and along with my fellow countrymen/women shout a collective hurrah for “my/our team”.

And now back to reality. Cinderella-like after the clock has struck midnight the world is doing what it does, winter grey has set in for another few weeks and all is as it is once more.

winter crazies

O.K. so the cartoon is about football and not hockey and it was me jumping up and down, yelling and groaning as I watched the Canada vs. US Olympic hockey game on Sunday night. I have to admit that I got a little emotionally invested in the game, one that has been touted as “our” game, “Canada’s” game during these Olympics. Pucks were flying and far too many of them were landing in the Canadian goal for my liking.

It was an amazing game to watch despite Canada’s loss. This is hockey as I remember it from my childhood. Full of fast play, solid clean checking; not the goon game it’s become – a combo wrestling/boxing free for all on ice with a bout of hockey breaking out now and then.

If only pro hockey could be this good. This is hockey I would watch all season!

It was passionate play. Passion, this is what the winter Olympics are all about. These athletes possess a passion to live life at the edge in winter. They rail against the boredom and inertia brought on by the long, cold nights and short, dreary days of this seemingly endless season.

Some kind of craziness seeps into their minds. This would have to be so. How else can one explain the desire to: whizz down a course full of mind boggling twists and turns head first on a sled barely big enough for an adult human being, or launch off the half pipe to a height of 35 feet, spinning and somersaulting all the way and land cat-like, feet first only to do it again and again, or be one of 4 competitors, shoulder to shoulder vying for lead position right out of the gate in the wild and crazy challenge that is snowboard and ski cross?

Passion, guts and phenomenal presence are displayed under the most unthinkable circumstances leaving the rest of us mere mortals in awe. Such was the case in the 2006 Olympics men’s aerials event when a skier flew into the air and lost not one, but both of his skis. When interviewed he recounted what his thoughts were during the (approximately) 3 seconds he was airborne.

It went something like (bear in mind I am paraphrasing from memory here), “Wow, there goes a ski…crumbs there goes the other one. Mmmm, I’m in a bit of trouble. Must land on my feet, but not too hard or I’ll break my ankles so I’ll have to slide a bit. Oh, and what the heck, while I’m up here I might as well complete the sequence I had planned.” (And, he did!)

I use this example when teaching meditation to illustrate just how many thoughts are possible within mere seconds – and these are the thoughts that he chose to enter his mind while others were howling for attention. What I, and most everyone else, would have thought goes something like this, “S***************T”! Just one long, sustained, 3 second, inner scream would echo in our minds as, paralyzed by fear, we plummet to the earth.

And, that’s why you and I are on the couch watching these insane, incredibly calm, smiley people (whether they do well or not, I’m amazed at what a great time the majority of the competitors seem to be having).

Yes, crazy but not without a sense of humour as well. What would the winter games be without the short track relay with all of the bum shoving used to propel team mates across the ice and in the 2 person bobsled where the last guy in runs like hell to get the thing up to speed only to jump in and curl up in a tiny ball with his head buried God knows where as they barrel down the course? Yup, I bet more than a few beers went into these ideas as well.

Ah, winter. It’s enough to make us behave like maniacs. Now I understand why people in warmer climes are so mellow. They don’t have the opportunity to get the winter crazies.

(cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 19991)

tough cookies

The week long silence is broken
As he offers her this token
From his throne upon the couch
This mopey, grumpy, grouch

“The cookies you’ve been buying me are stale", he grumbles
As the cookie crumbles
From beneath furrowed brow
He wonders
What will she do now?

The cookie
A bird of peace
The dove
A token of her love

Cookies,
Love
Ovaries
Moment of unease

Cool, calm, collected, as if unaffected.
She says steely eyed
“Don’t mope about, just throw them out”

Buy him more?
What is she, some kind of pimp or cookie whore?

A fresh gesture of love she’ll make?
Cookies from scratch she’ll bake…

For him?

OR…

“Buy them yourself.

Go to the store.”

(poem and photo - copyright N. Thacker 2010)

Terms of Endearment

FLIPPY the white one; MAYA the black one.

They are: my sweeties, my babies, my girls, the ladies, my honey bunnies (short form honey buns, singular honey bun), my sweetnesses, my buddies. Yes, I am talking about my fur factories, bags of purr (purr bags), my happy foot girls, my devil kitties – my cats Flippy and
Maya.

Do you ever get this questionnaire - USING ONLY ONE WORD? sent to you? Friends send it to me on occasion with their responses to such burning questions as, “where is your cell phone?” You’re then supposed to delete their answers, fill in your own and send it back to them as well as other friends. Fun is supposed to ensue.

I do find the exercise an interesting revealer of character. For example, for the most part I find it impossible to use only one word. Why the heck should it be only one? Who says it has to be one? Oooooo - what’s going to happen if I write more than one word? It states in the introduction that it’s challenging to write only one word. O.K. fine but that’s not a challenge I want to take on. Mostly I write more than one word and have been unjustly accused of being an over achiever in doing so. I’m not an over achiever, just a rebel. I rebel against the forces of limitation!

My rebellion started when I was answering the question, “Names of your cats?”
That’s when aka started and I realized that it was easy to state the name of my husband in one word – ROD, but not so easy when speaking about FLIPPY and MAYA.

Flippy aka: Flippy Flippy, Fliplit, Poopy Butt Girl, the Hoover, my Big Beautiful Girl, Precious aka Princess, Baby Girl, Baby Kitty, Therapy Assistant, Therapy Kitty, the Greeter, Snaggle, Pink Noser

Maya aka: Maya Maya, M’ya, the Love Sponge, Spooky Girl, Batman Ears Kitty, the Opportunist, Wild Thing, Mama Maya, Sweet Tiny Perfection, Smooshy Girl, the Errant Pee’r, Oragami Kitty, Drip Catcher Girl

Why is that? Why does just the thought of them elicit so many terms of endearment? I think it’s due to unconditional love. I love them unconditionally just the way they love me. They can even barf (even the pre-fur ball barf) on my bed, which means I have to wash my duvet cover and risk a flood reminiscent of the big one that called for Noah to build the ark. But do I call them a**holes? Nope. “Little Shit” is the worst I can muster, but usually my response is more like this, “honey bun… what the hell? Do you have a fur ball coming on? Let go of that ol’ fur ball. You don’t need that thing. You’ll feel much better if you just hork it up.” And I just clean it up and continue loving them without a beat. I accept that they’re just cats being cats, nothing personal.

Wow, what if all my relationships could be like that? What if I didn’t take anything personally? That thought was a revelation to me. What would happen if instead of calling fellow drivers (or anyone else for that matter) who are aggravating me: a**hole! you dumb clot!, idiot!, dull tool!, moron!...(fill in your personal favourites here) I used, not in a patronizing way, mind you: sweetie, honey or baby…(fill in your personal faves here too)?

Well, I have been doing it for months now and you know what? It calms me down, makes me more patient and (dare I say it) I feel more loving in the process. Whether they know it or not, it’s working for me.

So, honey, sweetie, sugar pie have a great one!