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Posts Tagged ‘transformation’

Painting of Flowers

“Imaginary Flowers,” acrylic on tile by Barbie Dallmann

I’m reading a book, Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend, that is stimulating a lot of thought. In the book, imaginary friends are only capable of doing whatever their children imagine they can do. For example, the subject of the book is capable of walking through closed doors, but he cannot walk through walls. He doesn’t sleep because his child imagines him keeping an eye on things all night long. Each imaginary friend is limited by his child’s imagination, and it can be very frustrating for the friends at times.

I think in a sense we are all our own imaginary friends, limited in our abilities because of some default operating system dictating what we can and can’t do. If I “can’t imagine myself ever doing that!” then chances are, I never will. But through the magic of visioning, I can begin to open my awareness to new possibilities.

I have noticed, too, that often other people can more easily see our potential than we can. After all, they don’t have our fears blocking the view. What does it take to trust the vision of others? To step out on a limb, spread our wings, and fly because several other people imagine we can?

A couple of weeks ago, some friends told me that I should teach an art class. Quickly I responded, “Oh, I could NEVER do that! I can’t imagine ever being good enough to teach!” But even as I said those words, I realized that it wasn’t the first time I’d said them. At least twice before I had been urged by someone to create a class to help those who are afraid to paint. When prompting nudges me from three unrelated sources, I have a tendency to take a closer look. For me, that means meditating on the possibility. I create a vision, and walk around in it for a while, sort of like trying on a new pair of shoes. How does it feel? Is it a good fit? Could it work?

And the next thing I know, an opportunity presents itself. This one popped up the very next day. And guess what? This coming Saturday I’m leading a workshop in compassionate creativity for art-timid adults.

So, while it’s true we are limited by our own imaginations, it is also true that we can tap into the Collective Consciousness and download a new paradigm. Why not pay more attention to the possibilities that enter our awareness? Why not try on some new ways of being? Why not sign up for an art class?

Flier for art workshop

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Watercolor painting - Life in the 50s

“Life in the 50s” – Watercolor, ink, and press-on letters (by Barbie Dallmann)

Yesterday I turned 59. The “nine” birthdays are always a big deal for me. I experience a strong need to finish the decade on a high note. There’s also a touch of anxiety about how I will process the “new numbers” a year from now. It seems I’m one to watch out for my future self, thinking she may somehow become weaker or more vulnerable than I am today.

When I was 9, I wondered what it would be like to have two numbers in my age and thought ahead to 11 when I would no longer be able to hold up my age in fingers.

At 19 I grieved the loss of my teen years as 20 was the threshold to Adulthood. So, to prepare myself, I quit school, got a full-time job, moved out of my parents’ house, and got married—all between 19 and 20!

At 29 I remembered my promise to myself to “have my ducks in a row by the time I turned 30.” AARGH! I wasn’t even close! No goals; only wishes and someday fantasies. So, that was the year I got serious about my career, obtained a loan from the SBA and opened the doors of Happy Fingers for business just 10 weeks before my 30th birthday. Ducks lined up and marching by 30!

At 39 I was restless again, and so before I turned 40, we had packed up and moved to a much bigger house in a much nicer neighborhood. Another step up the ladder of success.

At 49 I watched Oprah turn 50 a full seven months before me. I heard her talk about the 50’s being the decade when you become who you were meant to be. I wanted that, but I didn’t know how to get it. And it seemed the harder I tried, the worse things became. Little did I know that as bad as 49 was, 50 would be even worse, and by 51, I had hit bottom. In a state of complete resignation, I signed up for the scariest thing I’d ever heard of: “The Shadow Process Workshop” with Debbie Ford.

Yesterday, I opened my birthday journal and began to write, fully expecting some fearful tirade about turning 60. I was fully prepared to devote a good part of the day to creating an action plan of things I needed to do that would make turning 60 bearable. Instead, I found myself overwhelmed with peace and contentment. What’s this? I wondered. Serenity on my 59th birthday? Really? How did that happen?

But, of course, I know how it happened. During my 50’s I’ve been doing a lot of deep work. I’ve learned about purposeful living. I’ve taken 100% responsibility (no excuses!) for creating more of what I want and releasing the things that no longer serve me. So, this is the reward, huh? A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I’ve always wondered what that would be like.

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Downed trees

Trees and power lines downed by storm

During the last two weeks, a lot of things have exited my life. Dysfunction and old age took the office photocopier, a storm took several huge trees, maturity took our son to a new life in California, said son took his dog with him, and, at my request, my husband took two La-Z-Boy recliners to Habitat for Humanity.

Emptiness has been appearing around my life. Book cases have been cleared; drawers, too! All of that cabinet space reserved for dog food, shampoo, leashes, and treats … empty! Need I mention Britain’s room and his entire closet?

Most of the change has been thrust upon me, and I’ve been grieving the losses quite deeply. Solitude, tears, and a little wine. Long walks, extended periods of silence, and journaling at the cottage about my fears.

I tried to put a positive spin on things as I wrote about all this space opening up. Cheerily I scribbled the words, “It’s creating space for new things to come in!” And then a radical new thought. As if in someone else’s hand, my pen wrote: NO!

No?

NO!

Here’s what that wise hand wrote: “Don’t fill up that space! Don’t buy a new copier, or start looking for a puppy, or plant an orchard of fruit trees! Just don’t do it! Instead, feel the loss. Feel the empty. Be with it. Move into it. Become comfortable with it. Then … learn to LOVE it!”

Common wisdom says, “Replace what’s been lost so you don’t feel the pain. Fill the space with things that make you smile.”

But if I change myself inside … if I shift the way I look at my circumstances …  if I choose to truly accept what is and take the bold step to LOVE it as though I chose it for myself … well, then, it’s not about empty space that needs to be filled.

It’s about empty space where I can begin to spread my own wings!

Bird takes flight

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Just one week from today, our son Britain and his dog Lucy will be 500+ miles from home, on their way to San Francisco and a new life on the West Coast.

Lucy’s presence has added much pleasure to my exercise routine for over a year now. This morning reality hit me square between the eyes. We have only six more walks. Then she’ll be gone, never to return.

I know, NEVER is a long time (even longer in dog years). Of course, she could be back, but chances are she won’t. It’s a 2,700 mile trip from West Virginia to California, not something one does on a whim, and certainly not something one wants to do regularly with a dog.

Initially this morning‘s walk was like all the others. I was tossing a ball, listening to my iPod, and watching for cars. In the background, a thought kept nagging at me: Six more walks. Six more walks. Six more walks.

I felt a sense of urgency and a need to make the most of the time we had left. So I turned off my iPod and gave 100% of my attention to Lucy. I wanted to really be in the moment, to soak it in, to record it deep in my memory banks.

“What do you have to teach me before you leave?” I asked her. “You have only six more walks to share your wisdom.”

“Bark! Run! Chase!” It seemed simple enough. But, of course, there was more.

Reflections From Walk #1

Lucy loves to chase Frisbees, squirrels, sticks, cats, deer, and every kind of ball. She also loves to retrieve, so she prefers balls and Frisbees. But she won’t carry a ball for a two-mile walk, so, as usual, I threw it a couple of times and then stowed it in the newspaper box and kept on moving.

As I walked ahead, she whined and barked for a bit, but then she caught up with me. She’s such a good companion, always willing to walk by my side, no matter the weather, the place, nor the time of day.

A couple of blocks into the walk, she spotted it. From her body language, it seemed like it must be the best thing she’d ever seen in her whole life. And there it was, just lying in the gutter!

Wagging her tail, she picked up the broken, orange Wiffle ball and charged out ahead of me, thrilled with her newly discovered treasure.

Wise Lucy’s Lesson #1:

It doesn’t matter when one pleasure is left behind, the Universe has an unending supply. And each experience will provide its own brand of joy. Don’t focus on the past and what used to be. Keep your eyes open for the next treasure. And when you find it, pick it up and RUN!

Reflections From Walk #2

Dannie, Lucy, and I hiked Carriage Trail after the church hot dog sale. It’s a public trail, but the threat of rain seemed to discourage a crowd. As usual, we took a break for a little stick chasing, and I also stopped to take some photos with my cell phone. When we returned to the church, I ordered a couple of hot dogs to take home to Britain. Reaching into my back pocket to grab some cash, I came up empty. Bewilderment – panic – analysis.

It must have come out of my pocket when I pulled out my phone to take pictures. Quickly I turned to Lucy, “Let’s go find my money!” She was a ball of eagerness, even after the hour-long hike.

As we started back down the trail, I said to her, “You know, we’re not gonna find it.”

With that comment, she stopped and looked up at me. Her energy seemed to drain, and she looked confused. “Why bother then?” her eyes asked.

Oh, my! She’s right!

So, I set that thought aside, and said with as much excitement as I could muster: “Let’s find my money! Come on! Where’s my money? Find the money!”

Off she went, sniffing and looking. I was right behind her.

We ran the trail with our noses to the ground …. well, I admit, mine wasn’t exactly on the ground. But I was looking with an intention to find the money. At the same time, I was letting go of the outcome. It’s a tricky juggling act: intending to find it while simultaneously allowing the outcome to be whatever it is. Find it or not, I made my pledge to the Universe that I would be okay, peaceful, and content. (Another chance to practice acceptance!)

Wise Lucy’s Lesson #2:

If you want to kill enthusiasm and energy, start your quest with “can’t” or “won’t” or “it’s impossible.” Even a dog knows that if you want to find something, you have to start with the belief that it’s there. So, no matter what you’re looking for (a job, a mate, or even lost money), perk up your ears, open your eyes, and hunt with determination. And it’s a nice touch if you wag your tail once in a while, too.

Oh, yes, we DID find the money … scattered all over the trail just waiting to be easily found by someone who was paying attention.

Post Script:

The six walks never happened. A storm came through just hours after I wrote about Walk #2. We lost seven trees as well as phone, power, and internet. For the next three days, all the family’s energy was directed toward survival and clean-up. Dog walking was abandoned. Before she left, however, I had one last, long and satisfying walk with my grandpuppy. And as she panted, chased, barked, and frolicked along the path, she imparted one last bit of wisdom, “You never really know what tomorrow will bring, so it’s best to absorb every ounce of pleasure from the now.”

Bye, bye, my Sweet Lucy. I will miss you more than words can say.

 

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