An open letter

Dear World:

I know you're busy and all, but I'd like to ask a favor. Please, just for a moment, would you be able to stop spinning?

You see, it seems to me that I lost about 3 and a half weeks somewhere along the way, and I've never quite recovered. And so while you keep spinning, little ole' me stays perpetually about that far behind.

And I know I'm not the only one. 'Overwhelm' is one of the great hidden diseases plaguing our society. It creates tension and stress and general not-niceness. I've gotta say, (on behalf of all of us living here on your surface thusly plagued), that "feeling behind" - particularly irretriveably so - sucks giant hairy donkey balls, to coin a phrase.

As if it's not enough for you to have the gall to keep the sun rising and setting each day, you also seem to think it's fun to keep throwing curve balls at me:

Mysterious vicious insect bites.
Continuing visa problems.
Broken head gasket & radiator in the car.
No electricity.
Woman stealing my fennel.
A leak in my irrigation system.
No wood yet for winter.
An italian man who won't stop calling me.
Wild Boar rampage in the garden.
Dead WeedWhacker.
Shattered car window.
Hatchling fly infestation in the house.
A chance at true love, perfect and unexpected ... but complicated.
V.C.E.R.: Very Crappy Exchange Rate.
Mysterious & Unfixable phone problems.
Friends too far away to give me a hug.
A sink that won't stop leaking.
Broken computer AND printer.
A dying cat that I just can't help.

As if the curve balls weren't enough, there are still all the regular pitches that just keep coming:

That pesky 40-hour a week job that mysteriously has always sucked up between 60 and 80, even from this distance.
Except that at *this* distance, that's an invisible reality to the powers that be.
14 *@&%#$ tenses of verbs that I feel I'll never master.
The uncomfortable feeling of constantly counting on the kindness of strangers.
Interesting opportunities I don't quite know what to do with.
The perennial question of what's next.
Stacks of receipts, business cards, bills to be paid/filed/reimbursed.
Exercise that my body is begging to do before it becomes complete jello.
Neighbors who don't understand that I actually have to work for a living.
3 1/2 solid weeks of guests visiting.
Hours of time that vanish in great chunks into the void labeled: "deal with the airlines on the telephone."

Ya know what, World? Methinks I'm getting a little tired of being your catcher's mitt. But I'm also thinkin' ... maybe we're co-dependent here? I mean, I do keep doing it. You throw the curves; I catch and juggle the best I can, which - if I may say so myself, is pretty damn well. And maybe that's why you keep throwing. When I decide to stop catching, does the game change?

But it seems to me that rather than waiting for you to stop spinning and pitching, I might be well-served to just re-evaluate my priorities. Maybe it's not the constant catching that's killing me as much as the fact that I feel like I haven't had a chance to really hit one out of the park in a while. Maybe it's time for me to decide what I will stop catching, so I have time to step up to the plate and start swinging.

And then again ... maybe, just maybe, me running to catch whatever you're throwing at me puts me on the path I'm supposed to be on.

Hmmmmm, now there's a thought.

Serendipity. Synchronicity. Sovereignty.
Things that are supposed to happen, the timing of them, and the power to make choices.

And a little bit of decespugliatore. (weed whacker)

Okay, I'll give... Maybe it all does make a little bit of sense.

(Deep breath. Batter Up!)

But if you could just stop the spinning for a few weeks, that would work too.

Love, she-who-is-dizzy-from-the-spinning, but is on deck anyway, ready to take a swing.

Reflections

We are all mirrors to each other. And here – without the buffer of a lifetime of relationships to rely on or perfect language smoothing over the harshness - this reality is more glaringly obvious.

Every time we interact with someone, we are holding up a mirror. It is how WE have chosen to see the other person. And the reflection we give back in turn becomes an almost indelible part of how she views herself.

It’s in our actions, in our eyes, in our words. Do we purposely speak too fast for her to follow? Are we dismissive and derisive? Do we smile genuinely, or avoid eye contact as we offer a backhanded compliment? Do we delight in their struggles, their imperfect moments (because we feel better by comparison), or are we encouraging, truly complimentary, kind… calling attention only to the other's best assets?

There are people in each of our lives – oxymoronic “nemesis friends” - who are those horrible contorted funhouse mirrors. While it seems like a joke, they reflect back at us, by their actions and attitudes, magnified versions of our weak spots. Shining unflattering, harsh lights on the less-polished parts of ourselves, things we might wish we could change. They delight in capturing and magnifying moments of imperfection.

And then there are those who, instead, show me a reflection of my very best self. The person I strive to be, the one I am in my very best moments. Those mirrors minimize the negative, with the angle and lighting ‘just so’ accentuating our positive qualities. Encouraging us to see the beauty that they see, glazing over the less-attractive parts. They are the people whose eyes see into our souls, and reflect goodness back at us in a hazy, soft light.

Yes, we are all mirrors.
And it is ours to choose which mirrors we surround ourselves with: which ones we place far out of reach and those in which we are able to catch reassuring daily glimpses of ourselves.

I am immeasurably thankful to have a handful of mirrors in my life who make me feel witty, brave, kind, vulnerable in only good ways, beautiful, generous, sexy, capable, charming. Who believe in the person that sometimes I am unable to see. It is those mirrors I look to when I am uncertain. They encourage me. Show me the possibilities. And when I look to them, I can believe.

“We don't see one another often, but it doesn't negate the fact that my heartbeat matches yours, and failing that, plays cymbal to your fierce and wonderful bass.”

“I just can’t imagine there’s much that would stop you for very long.”

I am awed by the power of those casual words, coming from distant friends. Even from far away, their reflections inspire me. And I stand straighter and stronger, able to confront the darkness. I am fiercer and more wonderful, because that it is how they reflect me to myself.

Choose your mirrors wisely. Your true reflection depends on it.