Coincidences

Tonight’s truth is short and sweet. It is about coincidences.

Someone once shared with me the adage that coincidences are the Universe’s way of showing you you’re headed in the right direction.

I believe this. I don’t know it, but I believe it.

Today’s truth is about a coincidence. It was beautiful and “interesting” and led to much extended conversation and shared stories. It also led to increased trust and connectedness. All good things! And all of them part of a life coincidence of sorts.

I can’t divulge details of the experience, but I do want to express here gratitude and acknowledgement of this discovery. I am glad to have had the opportunity to encounter this gem of an experience — via a gem of a person — and for that idiosyncrasy to be so apparent so early…. Well, it surprised me, but gave me even more confidence to push forward.

Thank you, Universe. Thank you for the sign. I am on the right track.

*smiles*

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18 January: Stories we tell ourselves

(I forgot to post last night. 

Went out with friends I hadn’t seen since before the big break and had a good old-fashioned catchup over drinks. It was lovely, refreshing, and fun! And of course I got home, tired, and forgot to post. 

Perhaps I need to make this a daily thing that I do at times other than in the evening? Or at least before bed? 

Anyway, so I will have to post twice today. That’s okay.)

Yesterday’s truth is about stories we tell ourselves.

What narratives go on in your head? What stories do you tell yourself, whether without thinking, or consciously? We all have them. We need them. These narratives are what allow us to move forward…. or, in some cases prevent us from moving forward. Entire books have been written about how to think more positively — that is, how to change your narrative self-talk into something positive and functional. Interior dialogue can be debilitating if the majority of it is negative. Dr. Phil is one of the pop-psychs who has made this a big part of his work

I’m not particularly interested in this post about the cognitive psych behind negative self-talk, though I do find it fascinating. What I am interested in thinking about at this moment is more about the stories — both negative and positive — we tell ourselves daily so that we can function within societal contexts, whether personal, professional, familial, or otherwise. I bring up the bits about negative self-talk because they are related. What we tell ourselves daily affects our actions, our relationships, and our outcomes. 

We often come into contact with people who tell themselves things that are not necessarily “true.” Now, truth is a difficult thing to define, obviously. The whole purpose of this blog project is for me to define my daily truths — what is true for me on a particular day, as my take-away nugget of value. Truth is relative, this I know, and I by no means wish to de-value others. But I do believe that there are things that are “more true” than others, and that one person’s truth can completely make another person’s truth undeniably less valid or false, provided there are other participants or witnesses to add to the contextual “truth pot.” This is why I think modern-day law and law-enforcement, court and judicial systems, etc. are necessary for a healthy society. 

When I encounter someone in my personal or professional life who I sense is telling him/herself a story (or stories) that are not necessarily true, I struggle. 

I struggle because I want very much for all people to be true to themselves. I know this sounds corny and idealistic, but well… that’s a part of who I am and I suppose it’s a big part of my career, too. And it pains me to see and know of people who tell themselves untrue things just to get by. I hurt for people when I see them doing this. I know it’s often necessary. We’ve all done it — myself included. And often we look back years later with crystal-clear hindsight and realize that we were lying to ourselves during that particular period of our life.

Sometimes we just have to.

But what about when telling yourself that untrue story, just to function, hurts other people? What about when telling yourself that untruth hurts many, many other people? What then?

Some might argue this is pathological behaviour. Others may go so far as to say that if this behvaviour is sustained, it’s an indicator of one who is a sociopath. I lived with a pathological liar for a year while in university shared housing, and while it makes for great bar-table stories now, it was scary and bizarre at the time. This individual lied both outwardly and inwardly, and her stories were grandiose, delusional, and, according to her, irrefutable (e.g. “KISS the band asked me back to their dressing room to remove their makeup” and “I got to keep Toto the dog from Wizard of Oz On Ice after the show.”).

However, I’ve met many people since whose stories are perhaps not so grandiose, but simply exaggerated, or a different form of what is actually true. They tell themselves these stories, and they sometimes tell others too. Sometimes, it evolves like this: they tell one person, and the reaction they receive from that one person is so empathetic, so comforting, so validating that they can’t help but repeat it…. and thus a pattern has begun. 

What I found myself wondering yesterday was what story I was going to tell myself. I was actually thinking this through. And I was thinking it through because I was in a position where I was not sure what was “true” about a current predicament. And so I had to parse, find an angle, a point of view, and perspective for my story. Not create — I am not in the business of crafting fiction about myself, as I have no need for that. (I’ve been there, as I said, and I’m open to discussing it, but this is not one of those situations.)

But this led me down a rabbit hole of thought about many many people who have come in and out of my life over the years whose self-told stories have been just not-quite-right. Some of those encounters are recent. Super recent, even. Others are years old now, but still linger. (Pain dissipates and is dormant, but never disappears from memory completely.) And still I come back to this idea, unfinished, unresolved — and likely will remain so: Why do we tell ourselves and others stories which are untruths? Is it ego? Do we wish to save face? Is our ultimate flaw as humans to be “right” or justified in our actions and thoughts? 

I don’t have an answer to these questions, but they perplex me to no end. “Untrue” stories have the potential to harm others. Sometimes greatly. They also have the potential to harm ourselves. So what’s the pay-off? Why do we tell ourselves untrue stories — and worse, why do we believe them? That is sometimes the scariest part, and I’ve witnessed it time and again. When a person tells him/herself a story that is not true (to whatever degree), and over time, with repetition, s/he believes it. Revisionist self-history in action. 

I’m finishing with this for now. But it’s on my mind.

What kind of story do I want to tell myself? What angle will I take? How true is it? Why am I choosing this? 

and…

How can I best deal with others whose stories I know to be untrue (to varying degrees)? How does their story affect me, and how can I work around or with this? 

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Quiet

I’m preparing. 

 

The detox will begin on Monday. As will my new fitness program. 

 

I have a lot to do. 

 

I also have a lot of thinking to do. I have decisions to make. It’s the start of the school year. Tough. 

 

So. Apologies if I am quiet for a while. I am re-grouping. Re-evaluating. Figuring sh!t out. Going deep inside myself. Finding things. Digging, sniffing around. Sitting. 

 

You know how it is. 

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One’s work

Another quick one:

When you don’t look forward to your work, that is a very, very powerful sign.

At least for me. I am the kind of person who is very connected to my work. And so… to feel anything other than love about it is very difficult for me.

And so it goes…

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Alone time

Today’s truth will be quick as I am about to descend into a jetlag slumber.

Alone time is both necessary and wonderful.

I spent the entire day alone today. I realize this is a luxury. Many of my friends – in particular the SAHMs – don’t get to do this very often. I admire and respect them for giving up this, as I see it as so central to maintaining my true self. I don’t know how they do it – they are stars!

For the last 4.5 weeks, I have been with other people almost 24-7. I am an extrovert, so in many ways this is good. I get energy and inspiration from being in the presence of others. However, I know it is vitally important for me to re-connect with my Self, too. I need quiet and introspection, too. Quiet and introspection help my thoughts sort out, guide my thinking toward the best paths, settle my insides.

Today I did all kinds of mundane things – grocery shopping, cleaning, unpacking, laundry sorting, bill payments. All are necessary post-travel tasks. And I’m not done with them yet, either! But it was so refreshing and calming to do them in my own time, at my own pace, on my terms.

Alone is good. And the best part is that I’m never lonely. 🙂

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Today is Monday, and being in between is good

I lost Sunday completely somewhere between Vancouver and Hong Kong. Did it arrive as we sailed over Alaska? Or were we closer to Japan? Did Sunday end as we flew quietly over Korea’s skies? I’ll never know.

When I wake up mid-flight and look at my watch, I’m always angry at myself. So it’s 6 o’clock. What the bloody hell does that mean? It means it’s 6 o’clock in the city I left. It’s not 6 o’clock now, in this very moment, on this plane, in this space, right here. No one knows what time it is. Really. (Ever.)

And this makes me realize how attached to time I am. We all are. We are fixed to it. (And I become particularly fixated on it when I’m counting down the hours on a 13 hour flight.)

But when I stop and realize that I’m in between — that the entire plane full of people are — I feel calmer. We are all just soaring through time and space. We are in no time zone. No place, either. We are literally hanging about in a place that has no fixed time nor place. And this makes me feel more real somehow.

In between, not fixed, I feel more free. I feel unfettered, in a way. (If I can forget about the fact that I’m stuck inside a very restrictive vehicle.) What I’m trying to say, I think, is that being away from time and place up in the air gives me a chance to contemplate more who I AM. Not what I’m attached to or reliant upon or who is dependent on me. Just me. And who I am.

And then the plane lands and I am fixed to a time and place again. And that’s good, because then I can focus on how who I am is going to fit into that context. Being in between, though, is tremendously helpful and facilitates focus.

Take a step back. Be in between. Focus. Who are you? And what contexts do you fit into?

The answers to those questions are, for me, today’s truth.

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Sunday’s: late, short, and sweet

5 things I learned in the last 4.5 weeks of travel:

1- Four-and-a-half weeks is way too long to reasonably rely on an iPad as a primary device.

2- Michael Franti seems much taller in person than I had imagined, and I knew he was tall.

3- Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi airport has a crap wifi situation. It also has little in terms of amenities until you are past security.

4- There is an enormous difference in maturity and ability between a toddler aged 18months and one aged 24months.

5- Both Family and Friends Who Are Like Family make my world go round. Love, love, love and gratitude abound.

(Okay, so that last one isn’t truly a new learning but I need to wrap this up. I missed Sunday altogether and now it’s Monday and I’m about to board another flight…)

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Travel

Today’s truth is going to be quick. I’m sitting at the gate at YVR waiting to board. Here it is:

I am lucky and grateful to be able to travel. Travel makes me a better, more appreciative, more knowledgeable, and more balanced person. It makes me more able to understand others.

I am so very fortunate. My parents and grandparents did not have this opportunity. I have seen more of the world than the 3 previous generations before me combined.

Posted with gratitude from a chilly YVR.

(I might miss Sunday altogether. Oh well. This is the price I pay for this privilege.)

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Cold

I am cold.

I have been cold since 27 December 2012.

I greatly dislike cold. Actually, I hate it.

I want warm feet again. I want to sleep in a room with an ambient temperature above 18°C. I want to shed layers of clothing so that I am only wearing a tank top and I am still WARM.

I love Canada, my home country, very very much. But I love it even more in summer. I sorry. I am soft. :-/ I hope you forgive me.

Looking back, I was almost always soft. I never liked winter. I always just put up with it. So… I am glad I now don’t have to endure it. I am sorry. I feel bad for this at times, but I just can’t help it.

I love warmth and I am more myself when I am warm. I am happier when I am warm or HOT.

This has been on my mind all day.

That is all.

(P.S. Baby H, you’re the only reason I’m here! And I love you so very very much, even if you were born in winter.)

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Small Somethings

There are times when Something happens in a very small way, just to let you know you’re alright and on track.

These Small Somethings — VERY different from Little Things, as posted a few days ago — are often signs. They are subtle. They often are manifested via people who maybe (probably) don’t even know they are signs or a Small Something or a Small Anything. These sincere, unknowing conduits are just going about their day, doing what comes naturally to them, doing “their thing” without any real thought, just being themselves. And then that being crosses into your being and *poof* without knowing it, they have become or created a very important Small Something.

And oh –how beautiful it is! It is magic.

Thank you to the stranger today (David at Uva, if you ever read this, you know who you are), going about his day and just doing his regular thing, for being that Small Something for me today. I’m glad I at least learned your name.

With gratitude.

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