Beauty Beheld

Sometimes when I write, the pen seems to take over and I just follow the flow of words…When I think too much about a topic, I hit a blank wall –It’s like the ideas are in my subconscious and I just need to let them tumble out, unhindered. I also write a lot of poetry to express myself, but I haven’t posted any to this blog. There is always a first time and that time is today. This poem seemed to write itself and I changed almost nothing from the first draft:


Beauty Beheld

You smile bravely
a boyish grin
instantly aged
by chemicals
and poison

You fearlessly
joke
about burnt skin
that hasn't even seen the sun
and cannot
be quenched
by soothing dips
in shady pools

Your strawberry hair
has not yet thinned
or disappeared
but you know it's only a matter of time
and you jest
about bald being beautiful

But it is you
who is beautiful
a genuine beauty
a kind beauty
a soulful beauty
and I want
to become part of you
and learn from your strength

I want to kiss you slowly
and make time stop
to show you
how strong you really are

I want
to turn you inside out
so the world
can see your beauty
like I do

Learning, Listening, Believing

I think at some point in time we all stop to wonder why…it doesn’t matter what the question is, you can always ask why and never be satisfied with the answer. Why do planes stay up in the air? Why is the ocean blue? Why do people get cancer? I’m baffled at the apparent randomness of it, especially since it has hit someone I’m close to and care about. A feeling of helplessness envelops you and you realize how little you can actually do. Even though you can maintain a physical presence, comforting words and embraces, the disease remains there – an ever-present demon who threatens each and every moment, relentless, but most of all meaningless and purposeless…

Or is it?

We have become hardened – it takes so much more to shock us than our ancestors – we are bold, we are pushy and we are entitled, or so we think. (We are a completely different generation than our parents, and we should prepare for the same fast forward evolution with our own kids.) It is difficult to look for gratitude every day, to be thankful for another trip around the sun every year when we are surrounded by complacency. Gentle reminders don’t appear to work. We as humans tend to be smug in our lives, maybe we need to odd shake up to jolt us back to reality – to remind us of how precious this life we live really is.

My friend has cancer. I’ve known ‘of’ many people who have also had it, but have never had the opportunity to talk to them – it was something you didn’t mention, or something they didn’t mention. But my friend and I talked, openly, forward and honestly…and I listened.

He is scared, and I am scared for him. I have already learned a lot, I am learning more but there is still so much more for me to learn. When you dig deep enough past our moral crust, you get to the real heat – the passion and the intensity we all possess – you see people in different lights, and appreciate their darkness at the same time.

It seems that the simplest things are what make the biggest difference. Humour inserted where you never thought it could be funny, where the laughter is genuine, not forced or nervous. We are leaning positively, because to think anything else is inconceivable. As if by thinking it you allow it to happen – so we leave that stone unturned where it is.

And sometimes we just talk about other things – like what our future aspirations are, how we feel about the housing market, or our preferred musical tastes. I didn’t know his favourite band was Great Big Sea – the things you learn when you actually listen.

What else have I learned? His smile is contagious, his hair is soft, and he can’t spell worth beans, but it makes him quirky and loveable all the same. He will get through this, and we will be right beside him, because we listen and because we believe.

Belief in self...

Life should constitute being satisfied with what you have, and acknowledging it as you have chosen to live it. Yet people are constantly desirous of what others have, the way others live, and how others look. Being sucked in by this jealousy compromises our ability to fully live our own lives. It drags us around. This ugly emotion serves no purpose other than self destruction. We crave material goods, like cars and houses, but also perceived happiness. Why do we want what others have, and why, once we get it, are we not assuaged? This is not new – it has been said before in many ways and deep inside, we all know it, but putting it into practice requires an open heart, a steady soul and, most importantly, a willingness to believe in yourself.

When we start to question ourselves our inner health begins to diminish. It is fundamental to our emotional, and ultimately physical, wellbeing that we find ways to be happy with what we have and who we are. If that is impossible, then it is essential to find the courage to be able to make it something with which we will be appeased. I think I keep returning to this idea because it is so vital to an individual’s happiness, and also because it is a lesson I have learned firsthand.

To begin, we must look inward, and not at what is going on around us. Unless we are happy with our core being, nothing around us will make us happy negative energy will radiates back out. I am a prime example, so I speak from experience, unlike many others who are quick to give advice out, yet live by opposing rules.

For years, I experienced intense lack of self esteem – I was insecure and had no positive body image, even though looking back at pictures of myself I wasn’t overweight by any means. I would try over and over to ‘lose a couple pounds’ but never completely applied myself, and constantly believed that I wouldn’t be able to do it. So I remained the same size, and I just felt even worse. Many changes in my life slowly built up my inner confidence, but I always had niggling doubts inside that would not leave. You can have people telling you you are pretty, that you look OK, but if you doubt yourself, then it will never become a reality. There is no one turning point that I can look back at, but more of a general evolution of self that slowly transformed me. And maybe that was what worked. No immediate change can take place; you must be prepared to hunker down and commit to this decision.

This lifestyle change lead to a more confident me, no longer shy and reserved or hiding behind a quiet personality. I stopped worrying about what others thought of me, because chances were they weren’t even thinking about me at all. I became someone who was happy with what she had, not pining for what others had or what I thought I should have. This inner contentment has lead to an outer happiness that is quite apparent in my demeanor. I have been told I am more outgoing now, that I laugh more, that I exude a quiet confidence that belies the person I used to think I was.

It was not the easiest thing I have ever done, nor was it the most challenging, but I can say without doubt that it was one of the most gratifying changes I have come through, even though it resulted in the dissolution of my relationship . It gave me the courage to strike out on my own again after 14 years…

Somewhere along the way, I have come up with my own mantra:

Belief is powerful, belief in self is empowering.

Guilty Pleasures

We all have them; and most of us indulge them from time to time, whether it be Häagen Dazs Ice Cream, M&M’s, expensive designer coffee, a new outfit/shoes we didn’t need, or a trip to a tropical destination. I used to wonder what I was hiding from as I snuck that bowl of ice cream after the kids went to bed, what could possibly happen if someone found out? It really didn’t matter, because guilty pleasures are just that, guilt –and we ironically try to hide it from the only person we can’t, ourselves, then mentally justify our actions.

I often wonder why something that gives you instant gratification also makes you feel bad afterwards. In most cases, the guilt arrives only after the deed is done. I ate too much food; I spent too much money etc. Looking at the root of guilt is where to start. If you are deriving pleasure from spending money, perhaps the initial step should be to seek out a similar activity from which you can extract the same pleasure at a lower cost. I’ve also read that binge eating can be linked to insecurity issues, and is being used to fill some other void in one’s life. Finding something else to put in that gaping hole, aside from food, can often be the solution.
I’ve learned there are several ways to deal with this:
-Develop a stronger willpower so you don’t succumb to these urges thus assuaging the guilt
-Let go of the guilt altogether – indulge, enjoy because once you don’t feel bad for enjoying something, the joy you feel while partaking will multiply.

But I am no psychologist – I write what I see, I write what I feel, and I write what I know inside. And what I know is that many things that used to rip me apart inside have been banished to my inner annals. The guilt is gone.
I run and I eat as much as I like.
I budget and buy the things that mean the most.
I sing in the car, I laugh out loud, I smile and talk to strangers.
And I sleep in the nude and dream in the rain. I am content.

Bliss (part 1)

True bliss is rare in life. It is a fortuneate individual who can claim they have experienced it in its basest form. To me bliss moments are those which are so captivating that they are branded into your memory bank so clearly that you can access them at any time. You can remember every detail of the moment with astounding clarity, and return to it over and over again in an instant.
These are occasions when I feel absolutely “complete” – and there is nowhere else I’d rather be at that particular moment in time…

This time the scene was set up thusly:
Setting: a cool, breezy August morning, slightly overcast with a greyish glow behind the clouds where the sun was hiding, a sand beach stretching roughly 2 miles in length, and me, the runner.

I woke early before anyone else was up, pulled on a pair of shorts and a running top, and, leaving my running shoes behind, quietly left the tent (which was pitched next to the beach). It had always been one of my fantasies to run barefoot on a beach, and I had been presented with just the opportunity that morning. I strapped on my MP3 player and set the volume low enough so I had the sounds of nature as my backdrop. I began to run…
At first I picked up the beat from a song I was listening to, but soon found my footfalls adjusting to the earth’s rhythm; the pounding waves coupled with my steady heartbeat. Stride after stride my world of stresses started slipping away. As I dropped them on the sand behind me and ran, the wind blew my hair, whipping it into my face.
Reaching one end of the beach I turned around to see the long ribbon of sand receding and curving around the bay, beckoning me. Starting back I could see the remains of my footprints, the impressions already beginning to be erased by the waves, veiling the fact that I was ever there, a secret shared by me and the earth. By the time I reached my original starting point, all evidence that I’d been there had disappeared. I’d gone through a unique experience, a ritual cleansing while the waves doused my sandy feet as I sprinted along.

What went through my mind was nothing short of complete and utter immersion of self into that moment:
I remember each step, how the hard packed sand felt as my foot landed, how it gave slightly in the drier parts, the almost too hard slap where the waves had pounded the surface down to a near-concrete hardness, and how I quickly learned where to place each foot for maximum effectiveness.

I remember the taste of the cool moist air as I inhaled each cleansing breath and how my slightly laboured exhalations were grabbed by the wind and tossed away with each passing gust. Even the slight residue from the Brugal Rum I had imbibed the night before mixed with the humid spray coming off the lake was pleasant as I concentrated on breathing in and breathing out.

I remember everything that went through my mind for those four all-too-short miles. I say “too short” because it was a feeling I’d wished could have gone on forever. Although I wonder if I had had more of a taste, would the memory would be as sweet? The way I see it, you have to leave still wanting more from the experience for if you completely satiate the hunger, if not the pangs may disappear.

I recall this particular morning clearly because it was a bliss moment. I can close my eyes and immediately return there, and I often do. There are other “bliss moments” which I will return to during the course of my writing, but be forewarned that many of them involve me and running, which in part explains why I am so devoted to this activity. If doing it can instill so many clear and beautiful memories, then it’s not something I’m wont to give up soon.

Escape

Where does one go to escape? We have to face it; now that the days of our childhood are gone, days when we had long languorous hours to kill in the evenings and weekends, it’s like someone has snatched all those hours and replaced them with more things that absolutely need to get done. I haven’t yet deduced whether it’s a consequence of getting older, or just the evolution of our busy lives.

It is worthy to note that “escape” conveys that one has been held captive and perhaps we are interned by the lives we consciously choose to lead.

Regardless, we all need some ‘place’ to retreat to when the daily grind of life threatens to pull us down. Escape can come in many forms;

• inside yourself – into your thoughts
• inside sleep – into your dreams
• inside your domicile – to a quiet corner
• outside to commune with nature (I do this a lot when I am running).

It seems as if the older we get the more the world has sped up – we need to slow down and embrace simplicity. Escape can be as easy as stopping to watch children play, and remember how it’s done. (I run with a local Hash House Harriers group that has embraced the play aspect and it is a delightful relief to get ‘young’ for those few hours every week. We run, we jump, we hop streams, we play in puddles and we sing at the top of our lungs.) But it seems that as adults, we have to be able to give ourselves permission, and sometimes justification, to play.

Which begs the question, “Why?” Why do we need permission from ourselves?

It’s as if this is taboo – we will be looked at as irresponsible, - adults are not allowed to have fun anymore – we need to be able to laugh for the sake of laughter itself, not to laugh at someone else, which is all too often the case.

During the course of writing this, I let my mind lead my pen (most of these topics begin with a spiral notebook and a bunch of jottings before I take it near the computer). So it opened with what it wanted…this is where I ended up…

The name of my blog is indicative of my escapism fantasy - when I say “Lisa Takes Flight” I am flying in metaphorical ways, but nevertheless, I am up there somewhere, and I am enjoying the places my life is taking me. And even though in the past I’ve been accused of using my running to escape, as if I were running away from something, I have realized this comes from those who do not understand the mindset of this runner. I run to leave behing the phone calls, the e-mail messages, the dirty bathroom and the piles of sweaty running clothes laundry (although in the back of my brain I know by running I am contributing to this ever-growing pile). So many other fellow runners I speak to say that miles can go by and their mind drifts away, and when they are finished, they are refreshed. Essentially we go through life searching for something and many runners are so much more grounded because they actually have the time to find that vital component that keeps them that much more sane.

For my part, escape comes in purposely letting my mind go wherever it wants. If I cannot seek literal freedom from the dregs of everyday life, I will seek it in my thoughts and dreams. And yes, that is where my topics begin to take shape…

So…what’s next on the topic list? I’ll tell you after my run…

Letting Go...

I used to be a pack rat – saving, hoarding, and accumulating ‘things’. It didn’t seem to matter what those things were, I just didn’t like to throw stuff away. My bedroom in my parents’ home was lined with shelves of stuffed animals, some I’d had since I was a child, rows of cassette tapes – many of which I never even listened to, and my closet was packed with clothes that were too small (I might fit them again one day) too big (what if I have a ‘fat’ day?), or out of date (they may come back in style). I could not bring myself to get rid of anything.

Then something earth-shattering happened…we had a house fire.

Before the fire spread too far, I managed to throw some precious items out the window, including irreplaceable photographs, but by the time the fire had burnt its course, the vast majority of my ‘stuff’ was gone. Walking through the debris the next day was sobering. “This is what is left of my life”, I thought. What my parents and I had been able to save barely came to the top of the back of a half ton truck.

That was the beginning.

From that point on I vowed not to let myself get caught up in material items. Stuff bought is stuff that can be replaced. The real losses to me were the piles and piles of notebooks, poetry I had written and journals I had kept for years. You begin to put into perspective the things that mean the most to you, and what was important in this case was that no one died and no one got hurt.

Suddenly things become irrelevant.

Every six months I perform a ritual expunging – I choose one room and put on my ruthless hat. If I cannot leave the room without a garbage bag full of unnecessary items, then I have failed in my mission. To date, I have never failed. I do make deals with myself though. If there are items that I can’t bring myself to throw or give away, the deal is this: if I have gone another 6 months and not used the item, or referred to it, or even thought of it, it is to be released during the next “abolishment”.

But what about letting go of other elements? We tend to hang on to things that have outlived their purpose, people included. Friends come and go in our lives, but we still try to hang on to years old friendships that are no longer beneficial to either party, and instead, tend to act as excess baggage, dragging along like a weight behind you. How do you ‘discard’ friends? I tend to think in terms of reciprocation. If I have made a conscious effort to contact a person, and I receive no response, then I just let the person fall slowly off the radar. Because at that point, I consider it a mutual decision and I cannot be solely blamed for dropping the ball.

Letting go of guilt, worries, inhibitions, and fear becomes a little more complicated; these emotions are rooted in our inner core and difficult to leave behind – they are such a part of us that they become entangled and knotted in the fabric of our being. For some of us, they define who we are as humans. To perform an emotional purging takes a bit more courage. You have to be prepared to open yourself to scrutiny, and then discount it.

For me it is a daily and conscious effort. Up until recently, guilt had taken up a large part of my regular existence. By eventually realizing that this self-induced culpability was only injuring my own psyche, I was able to slowly chip away at it until it filled my mental refuse bin. I am doing similar things with worry, and fear. Inhibition is a little easier to leave behind, and the new-found freedom has opened up new avenues in both my personal life and my writing. I am able to say what I mean, without veiling my words with what I want others to hear.

My lesson learned (and continually learning) is that letting go can be mentally and physically liberating; kind of a weight loss of emotional proportions.