labelleizzy: (Default)
Words are my stock-in-trade. I use them to make things and to explore the world. I go to them to learn and be comforted and to figure life, or pain, or puzzles out.

I come from Livejournal/Dreamwidth, before Facebook, when words were always what you used to tell a writer you enjoyed, appreciated, or interacted with their work. This is well before the "like" functionality was implemented across the internet.

Complimenting artists on their art, writers on their stories, wasn't something I could do, growing up pre Internet as I did. And it's thrilling as hell to be able to, like, tag @dduane and say, "thank you, your books helped me through a painful, awkward childhood where I frequently felt lonely and unloved, and I remember them fondly thirty years later."

One of my favorite poets said she could live three weeks off a really good compliment and nothing else. :) Psychology has done studies on the need for praise and compliments in developing and maintaining a healthy emotional life.

We need them, compliments and praise, but we shy away from giving them. Why is that? I have theories, but this isn't the place and time for that right now. Let me tell you a very short story instead.

I dig tattoos, both in the same way that I love art generally, but in a deeper way too. I have several, am planning several more. Yesterday at the service center, the lovely young man who checked me in, very well mannered, had lovely forearm tattoos: greyscale roses twining around words. (I tried not to stare, I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable)

So I'm admiring his art but didn't have the right kind of courage in that moment to tell him his art was lovely. The shading, the composition, the ballsiness of being a Hispanic dude in maybe his middle 20's with visible floral tattoos, all of these impressed me.

I'm waiting for the shuttle to take me home while they work on my car, reading on Tumblr, and I run across the why-guys-send-dick-pics thread, why women don't, and don't like them, how men don't receive compliments so women complaining about compliments is like the women are speaking in ancient Greek, incomprehensible. One comment that just nailed it was, "one person who's dying of thirst is watching someone who is drowning"

(digression:. if you find that extended thread/conversation, please tag me so I can keep it, or throw a link in comments to this? TYVM!)

And I thought, REAL compliments feed us. And I don't have students anymore who I can lift up in that way, but I do that with friends, and I do that on Facebook and Instagram and my other social media. And I do that for authors whose work I like (I need to make a long appreciative list tagging a bunch of y'all) and maybe, like my beloved friend Janice was doing years ago at Renfaire, I can start making a point of doing this in meatspace interactions again. Giving heart felt compliments. Nothing hollow, nothing that's got a hook in it, nothing manipulative.

Just a gift.

I mean, this thought passed through me in a flash, feeling nothing like it does now to write it all down.

And then the young man with the roses came through with a clipboard. "Oh, you're Liz, aren't you?" I smiled and nodded. "The shuttle's ready to take you home, have a good day," and I half blurt "oh thank you, and I hope you don't mind me saying? (He turns back, slightly surprised) That I love the shading on your rose tattoos. They're really beautiful!"

Folks, the LOOK on his face... I could see what ten year old him looked like when he was really happy. He looked for a flash like kids do when they catch a ball in the stands hit by their favorite player on their home team. He looked SO HAPPY, his smile changed his face completely.

I'm so glad I said something, that I got a second chance to put a look like that on someone's face.

This is a thing I vow to do more of again.

Compliments keep the soul alive in a world that's trying it's best to kill our souls with dread, fear, and despair.

You know: They lie when they say kind words cost nothing: they cost effort, and courage, and willingness to take the risk, ability to let go of an expectation of return. But I have the energy and the commitment and this is something that I can look for opportunities to put out into the world.
labelleizzy: (Default)
very quick post
as I need to breakfast and then hit the gym

it's uncomfortable to admit the difference between what I thought I was doing and what I was actually doing.
what I was trying to do and what my brain basically had me HAVE to do.

I'll be dropping bits here as I continue to read the adhd book from the library. But one thing I learned today is that the kinds of self-talk I've been slowly training myself out of? have NAMES. Like, you can categorize them into disasterizing, binary thinking... I wish I had the book here, I'll have to edit this later.

I'm kind of in the grief stage. Realizing how different things might have been if adhd in girls was something that they knew about when I was still in primary school or high school. But in the 80's, they had only just begun to recognize add/adhd as a thing.

it wasn't. It didn't. They didn't. I didn't.

it's so damn hard to see the back of your own head.

Not like all my work towards self knowledge is wasted, it's the foundation of the work I'm going to continue doing.

AND I think I may have helped my niece, who is my beloved magpie girl. She's showing all the signs and more of my own distraction, difficulty scheduling, keeping on task, good intentions and poor execution. Pile of failing progress report grades on recent reports from school, her parents are going YIKES

so I told my sister I'd been recently diagnosed with adhd and what I remembered from high school sounded like how I've observed my magpie girl when we've gotten to hang out. That her academic results, same=same. I just covered better, I think.

so my sister and my brother in law are looking into testing for my niece.
it's like, I'm over here Feeling All The Things about my own wasted opportunities but maybe? maybe Ainslee can be spared a lot of what I suffered through, all the shitty self-talk and self-blame.

so I'm feeling optimistic, and I have several courses of action laid out for me to follow, and that feels good.
labelleizzy: (Scotty)
Today's my little brother's​ deathaversary.
Mom called me a couple of minutes ago. I hadn't truthfully been thinking about it, or him, today...
I have such a good life now. This makes the ... No... TENTH anniversary. Shit. Shit.

I loved him but it feels like I barely knew him.
I don't know what to do with this right now, now it's brought to the surface. I'mma go be productive.
labelleizzy: (dealing with demons)
today my friend Jade_Falcon let me know that our mutual friend was thinking about killing herself

he said i don't know what to do
I thought i don't know what the fuck to do either
he said I'm twisting her arm to talk to you
I was scared to do it but more scared not to.

she did talk to me
I talked kind of a lot
told her about my own crisis and my own pain
reflected what I understood about hers
and told her I love her
several times.

the most fucked up part is that she's so broke that a giant part of her motivation to off herself was so her kids would go into foster care and out of the essentially slave-labor living situation she's in right now, and that maybe they would have a chance to be happy.

I'm not broke and in a bit of poetic justice, the person who she's living with (and working, unpaid, for) owed me money and actually, shocker, PAID it. I set it aside as a "get out of hell fund" for her, and that made the difference.

so now she's got enough distance from the situation, to see that her newly-ex, ex, really has been a gold plated turd. He just messaged all their mutual friends to tell them she was like psychotic and making things up. Like within a couple of hours of breaking up with her, this is what he does.

I'm feeling a bit wrung out right now, and I'll be off the internet for a couple hours, but I'm really proud of myself and of HER. the pile of shit she's digging out from under is really unbelievable and I'm not surprised she thought she was drowning.

I hope that our life preserver will hold long enough that she either finds a good boat or some dry land.
labelleizzy: (Default)
Rob Breszny's Free Will Astrology for Scorpios this week suggests that it would be a good idea to think about the parts of one's past that it would be good to protect and to carry forward into the future.

Ten things I have learned that I would like to carry forward:

1) Brainweasels are liars, and usually are due to low blood sugar or loneliness. CF: The Desiderata.
2) I am stronger, much more competent, and a lot more lovable than I believe I am by default.
3) despite 2) I am just as prone to fuck up my communication as the next person, or to fuck up period.
4) It is possible to apologize for a lot of things. Nobody really likes doing it, nobody's great at it.
5) I deserve self-care.
6) I am allowed to ask for help with my self care, and people will often say yes. (thanks to Eeyore42 and Wrenb for teaching me that)
7) Enjoy what you have, share with others, don't feel guilty for having more. Help as often as you can.
8) Life is short. Enjoy it while you can, and tell people you love them if you do. Kiss their faces too.
9) Tenderness, kindness, and warmheartedness are underrated in the world. Value them, teach them.
10) Feed yourself. Feed your people in whatever ways you can. It makes everyone happy.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
I woke up this morning to sweet cuddles and caresses from a warm sleepy husband. Nothing more than cuddles this time, as he read his newspaper with one hand and ran the other absent mindedly over my head. I felt like a cat in a lap, warm and contented and loved. When he rose to wash up, I worked on my morning stretches. It feels so good to move the body, the First Home, to have it respond so sweetly to my requests. Bodies are wonderful, they soak up the sunlight and warmth, they feel the touch of loved ones, they can work, kiss, write, interpret for the brain. Bodies are the filters through which we experience pleasure, all the pleasures. Sex and food and running and tickling, laughter and back scratches and massage, intoxication of love or of good wine. I am in good health, able to accomplish what I set out to do of a day without more than slight pains or discomfort. Doing pretty well for a middle-aged woman whose favorite activities are writing, gardening, and cooking.
I am thankful for my body.

When I finished my stretches and my morning meditation, my husband had begun preparing breakfast. I always boil a pot of black tea for myself, as he doesn’t care for it. We had crepes with ham and cheese and apple, and a dash of maple syrup. Then he got on the computer to book hotel reservations and make other arrangements for our upcoming trip, and then we worked together on preparing the Thanksgiving duck. Last night he was working for hours, between research on a project for our house, fine tuning a home improvement project (this required a skill saw that lets him cut a tidy hole in the wall for a new electrical outlet). Before that, he had been supervising the final stages of some work being done in our yard.
I am thankful for my husband.

My life is very abundant. The loving husband and friends and chosen family and biological family are all blessings to me. Though I have never carried to term, I am a beloved auntie and sister-mom to many children, I have worked in schools with many children, I have loved many children. I am surrounded by friends who seek my company. I am surrounded by people who speak and write to me with supportive and kind words, who encourage my artistic endeavors, who inspire me with how they work and play and strive to build a better world.
I am thankful for my community, and the connections within it.

My home is colorful and comfortable. We have quilts on the beds, clothes in the closets, warm curtains against the chill. We have an outdoor space that is green and lovely, with water and earth and space to grow food. We have a kitchen and a living room with space to entertain comfortably, and food enough in the pantry and refrigerator to feed people we like and love. Our soft and lazy felines nap in the sunshine, on our laps, atop stereo speakers and under the kitchen table. They love us, rub against us, talk to us, chide us when the food is late or the box unscooped, and their antics continue to make us laugh down the years.
I am thankful for our lovely house, and for our sweet cats.

Recently I have been writing very prolifically. The ideas and images have been flowing easily to my pen and my screen, and releasing them and arranging them has been giving me great joy. For many years now, I seek the printed word for comfort, whether reading them or writing them. I feel like I am hitting “the zone”, as runners do, as other artists do. The words are friendly and flirty and I handle them comfortably, even when they zip and zing and burn, even when they are as cold and mean as dry ice.
I am so very thankful for the words and for my muse, and for the privilege of crafting with words.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
"Fair Weather" by Dorothy Parker

This level reach of blue is not my sea;
Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,
Whose quiet ripples meet obediently
A marked and measured line, one after one.
This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves
Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm.
I have a need of wilder, crueler waves;
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.

So let a love beat over me again,
Loosing its million desperate breakers wide;
Sudden and terrible to rise and wane;
Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide
That casts upon the heart, as it recedes,
Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.

I've needed this for a long time. The last time I could be consumed by something, overwhelmed and delighted by something, had to fight with something and getting my choler up, was when I was struggling and working to teach Reading and Drama back in 2006-2008.

It doesn't have to be a love affair in the conventional sense. It doesn't have to be a PERSON. It could be a job, an idea, some issue I can be passionate about...

I need something to fight with, to strive with, or I'm only half-alive. I've been too scairt to say so, but my life has been too EASY. It's beautiful, it's rewarding, this life, but in a lot of ways it's simple. Manageable. Civilized.

Tomorrow I will take some craft supplies and camp out until my car's servicing is done, making stuff the whole time if I can.

That's one.
labelleizzy: (yoga)
Body has been tightening up and giving me pain. Have only had one even half-serious workout in the last month, today was my second time in the gym since before Burning Man.

I didn't task myself with making up for lost time. I climbed on the elliptical machine for 18 minutes, made a point of keeping it at a rate that raised my temperature and heartrate without making me stressed ... lunch was too close to when I went to workout, but I modified accordingly. And I was sufficiently warmed up before heading to the Gentle Yoga class, which was a LOT of what I needed. Not everything, not quite, but gave me a great workout and let me check in with all the tight places to see what they wanted. (more moving, of course!)

And there was a substitute teacher who was really quite excellent. She was kind enough to give me a good demonstration of bakasana (Crow Pose) which several friends have been practicing and posting photos of on FB and now I have a fairly good idea of what I need to do in order to have the basics down. I need a strong tight core, strong triceps, strong inner thighs... and a willingness to fall on my head while practicing this radical arm-balance.

Time to work on looking ridiculous sometimes. And since I also wanna get to the point of doing forearm, head and handstands? this is a good intermediate step, feels like to me.

so I will work on moving enough tonight that today's yoga won't make muscles too stiff, and try starting to practice the things I need tomorrow.
labelleizzy: (dance with Jeff)
YOU know that the music made me do it... I saw that look in your eye, that glint of mischief.
the music made me flirt with you, how could I do otherwise, with jaunty jigs and reels whirling around in the pub...

the fiddle made me flirt with you, the drums made me dance with you, the pipes helped me pirouette, the singing helped me swing.

I could dimly hear the music from the parking lot across the street as I leaned against the car and invited you to the Fair.

you said in a soft voice, looking up from under those long, dark lashes, "are you asking me out?"
and that delicious twist your vowels used to make is still branded into my own way of speaking.
I said yes, I'm asking you out (yes i said yes i will yes).

we probably walked three miles that evening, had crepes and talked and told one another important and amusing stories, and never DID make it out to the fair. I can't remember when we first kissed, it seems like I've always been kissing you, even before I met you.

our second date was TEN DAYS long. *headshaking in disbelief* Eleven years later, I still can't believe how sexy and engaged and satisfying you were, how WE were together.
can't believe you.
can't believe US.

I spent so long looking for that kind of an US, and hurting for the lack of it.
I never take us for granted.

our third, or something, date, I drove down to visit and you'd gotten hold of both albums by an artist I had newly come to love.
I was flabbergasted. you took MY musical opinion seriously? soaring vocals and driving drums brought epiphanies...

you said, "Your words have an IMPACT, you know?"
and i... I... that was the start of me falling in love with you.

you said, "You're aren't broken, you're just bruised up some."
you said, "Come here and cuddle me."
you said, "I can't wait to get my hands on you!"

you said, "What do I do when we're waltzing, to show the follow where to go?"
I said, "you put her where you want her!" and that wicked glint showed for a moment before you scooped me up under my bum and carried me away and dumped us on the bed, both of us laughing hysterically.

you sang for me, little hilarious Canadian bar bands, and old sea songs, and we both rediscovered the round about barges sailing away on adventures.
and I sang for you, all the songs to sing together, all the harmonies, all the rounds I could think of.
we sang all the delightfully filthy or screamingly ridiculous songs I learned from decades working the Renaissance fair.

then you went away and I was sad, but we shared our love and our longings with words on internet and phone
and we missed each other
but then you came back and I had never, or maybe once before, known such blinding happiness.

because you came back, and we had music together again.
we had dancing together again (I will always love to waltz with you in the kitchen and wedding receptions)
we had singing together again (remember the UU choir and the parties at the "choirloft"?)

we had a home together.
we have a home together.

and now you play piano for yourself and for me, and the music makes me move, stretch and dance, or makes me curl up on the sofa next to you and watch you play (I never get tired of watching your hands and your face when you play piano)

and I think we should sing more, together and separately.

but definitely we should keep making beautiful music.

My entry for [ profile] therealljidol this week. Prompt was "the music made me do it." I didn't fall in love with Jeff ([ profile] eeyore42) JUST because of music, but music of ALL kinds, definitely helped.

More links here shortly.
labelleizzy: (risky trust)
Today I will live in hope.
Today I will work towards what I want and need.
Today I will ASK for what I want and need, no matter how awkward or exposed it makes me feel.

Today I will trust that the Universe has the best possible plans for abundance and love in my life, and I will simply breathe in what the Universe has planned.
labelleizzy: (poly)
I would dance you a love letter
...but my steps are no longer sure.

I would sing you a love letter but voice is hoarse with winter coughing...

and I could paint you a love letter
...once my skills are up to the task,

or I could play you a love letter, although
my fingers don't yet find the notes.

Instead, I shall tell you the truth.

For the truth is that you are beautiful
and kind
and worthy of love;

that the crocuses and snowdrops about to break the surface of the earth
are already seeking to love you;

that the sun is best pleased at the sight of you,

and the moon, sailing by, contemplates your visage with as much wonder as you contemplate hers.

Trees dig their roots in for you.
Daffodils blossom, and crows and foxes sing for you.
Even the dewdrops sparkle for you...

You are eminently lovable, and you are deeply loved.

labelleizzy: (cats)
Today my Big Kitty (his name is Otter) invited me to come Play With The Animated String in his usual fashion, as is usual, I heard him coming in his distinctive way:

"Mwoo? Mwew! Mwoo! Mwoo? Mwew!" (drop string just barely out of reach) "Mrrroo! Yow! Meow!"

*bent over laughing*

This kills me every time. You can hear him coming and know exactly what he's up to because he MEOWS THROUGH THE STRING IN HIS TEETH.

We played for about five minutes. Boy I am glad I cleared that spot at the top of the stairs by the bookshelves; it is shaping up to be *excellent* cat-play space, just outside our bedroom. I piled all his strings there when I was cleaning, and he's finding it very convenient so that when he's ready to play, he can just PLAY.

And then he got an urgent cat-telegram and ran downstairs to gaze eagerly into the garden for his response.

...I have no idea, I just work here.


May. 18th, 2011 02:51 pm
labelleizzy: (trust)
I'm consuming too much media.
It interferes with my capacity for independent thought, interrupts ideas-in-progress.

YMMV, of course, but it's notable in my case.

Was thinking earlier today about what does it really mean to be grown up?
A "Woman"?
A "Man"?

To put a different spin on it, when exactly do us Walking Wounded finally come to own our own souls?
Our bodies, our health, our own opinions and reality?

I had no concept of myself as lovable for the first 18 years of my life. I had no idea of myself as attractive, gorgeous, loved, until I was 20 (thanks, gorgeous and loved Irishman...) I had no idea of myself as a dancer till I joined Travellers' Union at age 22 and started to learn English Country Dance and Ballroom (Thanks, all you former Travellers!) I had no idea I could be athletic until I started taking TaeKwonDo (thanks, Master Rankins!) at age 26.

Of course, I didn't realize I could be broken, either. I challenged myself to try new things, always proceeding with caution, hesitantly. But I could feel my self stretching, growing, filling out, and dimly sensing that the possibility of *flowering* was there, even if I wasn't robust and juicy enough yet.

Then I backslid. I married the wrong guy (or, the right guy, because I did need the "another opportunity for growth" because I was STUCK and needed to be jarred loose). I fucked up my knee from trusting that my teachers knew my body and abilities better than I did (dumb, dumb, blind, thoughtless and dumb), and I coped with the first disease/problem that was the brush with death. That's when I discovered that doctors are not omniscient, they are human, and make mistakes. I worked on healing myself and in the time I thought I was face-to-face with my own ceasing-to-be, I looked at my blind spots and my dead spots and my not-broken-but-grew-crooked spots. And I started trying to remove the dead spots and enlivening the dead spots and retraining the grew-crooked spots.

Then I made progress. I worked with the Thiasos, a group of Hellenic Pagans based in Sacramento and the Bay area, and I started to learn what mattered. That *I* mattered. That *I* was a child of god, same as the trees and the stars (thanks, Desiderata!) That I was worthy. That I could be strong, but that I would have to work on it, since I had a habit of thinking of myself as weak. I learned that I was *beautiful* (Thanks, Adelphai! *wipes tears from eyes*) though it had to come to me as a surprise and after a lot of time working on my headspace. After that, I joined a learning coven, a Wicca 101 group, and started to work on becoming strong and principled.

Still I referred to myself as a "girl". A "girl" of thirty-something, because "woman" was ... fraught. Being "a woman" felt like more than I could claim for myself. I mostly referred to myself as a "person". "Woman" still is complicated (political, and with lots of connotations), but at 41 with the life experience I have? I'm finally referring to myself as a woman, because somewhere between 30 and 40 I actually DID "grow up:"

I did start taking responsibility for my own health and my own happiness.
I did start taking responsibility for my own life and my part in building or destroying my own relationships.
I did start making the conscious decision to strive to be kind and compassionate and truthful. To live my sense of what is right and true and ethical.

Whenever I start to feel like I'm treading water instead of making forward progress, I look at what I'm saying, and what I'm doing, and what I'm thinking. I look at where my relationships are, and if there is any place I have enough resources to help someone else - time, attention, energy, and sometimes money or goods.

One of the Christian philosophical systems has a saying: Lord, let me be an instrument of your peace. I add:
Lord, let me be an instrument of joy.
Lord, let me be an instrument of healing,
Lord, let me be an instrument of hope and compassion.

I am a grown up now. In my way of thinking, that entails a number of responsibilities.

If you have strengths, you use them in the service of weakness, and helping others become stronger.
If you have learning, you use it in the service of educating ignorance into knowledge.
If you have passion, you work to fan the flames of passion in the world: passion for justice, for truth, for beauty, for fairness.
If you have health, you use it to help others heal themselves.
If you have traveled from brokenness to wholeness? You work on helping others see and fix the broken wherever it is to be found.

And you know what? None of this is *easy*.
None of this Living on Planet Earth is easy. We get sick, we suffer. We hurt each other, intentionally and un.
We lose possessions we value. Maybe we learn something.
People we love die. We suffer. Maybe we learn something.
People around us suffer. Maybe today we have enough to share, a hand to stretch out in comfort. Maybe we are the ones suffering, and hoping to have the comfort of another's hand. And maybe we learn something.

and maybe? maybe what we learn? is that's what Love is.
maybe once we stop being afraid, we can put Love to work in our lives.
For real.
And maybe that is all the Change we need.

If Love drives out Fear, how do we make sure everyone has enough Love? How do we help people Not be Afraid?

It starts with me. It starts with one word, one hug, one (dumb) little post on the internet.

And the courage to make it public.

It's easy to write for people I've chosen, people I know I can trust. I'm going to stretch my trusting muscle farther today.

Remember. Love. Learn. Hope.
labelleizzy: (poly)
It's a short little book, The Five Love Languages, but it makes a lot of sense.
People speak different love languages.

The examples Chapman uses are: Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Gift-giving (or receiving), and Quality Time. If you and your lover speak different "languages", you are going to have a difficult time getting your needs met: as time goes on and you aren't feeling loved, even if your lover is making an effort, you become increasingly frustrated and feel empty and unloved.

You get a gimme at first when you fall in love: love relationships when they begin have a "honeymoon period". However, you can only fly so far on Limerence, aka the in-love feeling, aka NRE. Limerence lasts for a finite time... after that, well, your jet fuel starts to run out, if you don't mind the metaphor.

You can fill your tank with The Good Stuff by finding (or properly training!) a partner on how to Speak YOUR Love Language. If they can't speak your Love Language, it doesn't fill your emotional tank. They might give you kerosene when you need gasoline, or water when you need oil. They're trying, they made an effort, they want credit, but if it's a language you don't speak, or a fuel you're unable to use?
Read more... )

Long Story Short:
My Love Languages, in order, seem to be:

1st: Acts of Service (Will you do something for me, or with me? Can I do something with you, or for you?)
2nd: Physical Touch (Hug me, cuddle me, sit near to me so our feet or knees touch)
3rd: Words of Affirmation (Tell me you love me, that I'm pretty, that I'm doing good work or that you're proud of me)

"Gifts" got a ZERO score from me on both versions of the test I took. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate thoughtful gifts: I have a Scarf Lynn Leonard made for me, that I *love* and adore, an embroidery sample from Betty Pugh on my wall (both older lady co-workers in schools, both birthday presents, and both made for me, personalized with me in mind, so maybe even more Act of Service than Gift?), the easel, paints, brushes, scarf, and rose fragrance from Mom, the quilt T.R. bought for my 40th birthday, and others. I enjoy giving gifts to people sometimes too... I made a point for the first time in years to get presents for my immediate family and Jeff's too, and that felt good.

I *loved* that Lance and Joanne came over to help decorate my christmas tree this year. I *loved* helping R and TR with paperwork, hosting Paula as well, and feeding everyone into the bargain. I *loved* my Mad Hatter Tea Party a couple years ago, the clothing swap that I hosted in my bitty little place in Pleasant Hill, and I have warm, loving feelings toward all the people who have EVER helped me move house, and that's a LOT of people. I *loved* baking shortbread for last year's Waldorf assembly and I *loved* that so many people came to tell me that they loved my baking! Then, too, the compliment from Dorit on my work in our eurythmy performance will nestle in my heart forever... *bask*

Knowing I am appreciated in many ways, by many different people, makes me feel loved. Acts of Service, and Quality Time, Words AND Touch.

Read more... )

I feel respected and loved when I am noticed with words. (Jenna, one of the 7th graders from my practicum class, noticed and said she loved my new boots which I wore today (yes, those boots.)) Hee! I heard from one of the Waldorf parents during my practicum that her daughter said my lessons were fun and that she was learning good things. *swoon!*

I feel respected and loved when someone I care about helps me with a task or does something for me. The other day TR and Diana were at Orchard Supply and they called to ask me if I needed anything, then brought me a bag of soil so I could repot some plants. *squee* They a) Heard my Words and b) Did Something that helped me with a Task! super yay! Jeff vacuumed the WHOLE HOUSE after we got the new vacuum. It took him 4 hours because we hadn't vacuumed in almost a year. MEGA yay, and super bonus brownie points!

I feel respected and loved when I receive the kind of touch I crave: sometimes gentle and loving, sometimes tempestuous and passionate. I express love and caring attention by trying to pay attention to how and whether people I care about, like to be touched. At work, I use gentle, respectful touch to get my point across and to build relationships with students - a pat on the back for encouragement, a touch on the hand or shoulder to draw attention. I noticed the same kind of behavior in the teacher whose class I worked for today (I have GOT to find an alternative to the term "subbing"... ack. I AM a teacher, I'm not a substitute for a teacher. I'm just a *different* teacher than the class's usual teacher... okay, </ soapbox>... I like "guest teacher" and will try to be consistent in using that.). As a teacher, you have to be the Alpha Wolf, and you can accomplish some of that dominance in a quiet and affectionate way with touch.

I get a high from dancing with people... Act of Service (doing something I love with me) AND Physical Touch! Woo-Hoo! (Again, why am I NOT doing this more OFTEN?!?!?)


I would challenge everyone who has had "communication difficulties" in a relationship, to familiarize yourself with the concept of Love Languages, learn your own, and try to figure out what the other person's may be.

Might very well be that EVERYONE could have a full Emotional Fuel Tank... and then we could ALL fly!

What fills your tank with the right fuel?
What fills THEIR tank with the right fuel?
Are you willing to do what it takes for the person you love to have a full tank, even if it doesn't come naturally to you?

Learn how to fly. Learn how to fill your tank, so you can fly, and so you can help others to fly.
labelleizzy: (Default)
as seen on [ profile] apocalypticbob's Livejournal.

15 years ago I was 25. That was the "existential birthday" because after 25, I hadn't imagined at all what my life would be like. I had detailed expectations for every year up till 25, then 26? No clue what I should be doing with myself. Interesting, I haven't thought of that in a long time.

At 25, 15 years ago, I was back living at home with my mom. My dad had just died, about 6 months earlier. We were living in a house we rented, very near to the school that she worked at (also my old junior high). Our house had a little cement and stones waterfall-pond in the backyard, and mom spent hours dredging out that pond, shortly after we moved in. We wanted to put some goldfish in it. We discovered, once it started raining, why it needed mud dredged out of it: the rest of the yard was on a slight upslope, and the dirt from the lawn and garden flowed down hill when the waterlogged dirt... yeah. =) I loved that yard: spending time watching the fish, practicing kata on the back porch. I had just started the librarian job in the Grant district, was doing taekwondo at the community college, and feeling physically strong for the first time in my life. Emotionally, not so strong, though.

Advice for the Me of Fifteen Years Ago: (Granted if I had taken it I wouldn't be where I am today:)

* Gods, DITCH Francis already. He's not emotionally available, he's sarcastic and unsupportive, his parents are clutterholics, and so is he. He wants to keep everything the same. This is not a relationship that will help you to grow.

* Keep up with the Taekwondo. But: find a mentor who you feel comfortable going to for help in breaking down complicated moves, find someone who you can ask stupid questions of, regularly (and get used to asking uncomfortable, stupid questions). Practice jumping kicks at home, and ask for specific drills involving falling and getting over the fear of falling. And if this Do-jang doesn't do that, find another class to take, because it was the fear of asking for help/looking foolish and the fear of falling and hurting yourself that caused the knee-sprain. Twice.

* When you realize after about a year that you are still PISSED at dad for dying and everything else, give a call to that 800 number for employee mental health, and find someone to talk to about this, keep calling till you find someone. It's not natural nor good for you to be angry for six years and to be unable to remember any of the good things about your father. Also, that headspace puts you as a good match for another emotionally unavailable, sarcastic first husband. =( Talking to people is a Good Thing, and asking for help, well, you won't get help unless you do, and you won't know if you'll get help UNTIL you do ask, so talk to people.

* In that same vein, say yes more often to social events with people you like and who like you. It's good for you and builds your self-esteem and the friendships with those people as well. (The number of social events I flaked on, to have a date with a boy who didn't really make me happy...!)

* Make more stuff. Actually USE your craft supplies, you'll be sorry you didn't. Make gifts for friends and family, even if you "don't think it's good enough". The pillow that Scotty saved the dog's hair to stuff? Make that first. =(

* Do more professional development in the librarian gig, and find more ways to interact with the kids. Follow up on the mobile mini-library idea for classroom projects. Pick the brains of the English and history teachers more. Go do social stuff with Sandy and Cathy and ask Regina and Sharon out to tea. Knowing smart, experienced, older ladies is Good. Also, look into academic counseling at Sac State, you won't finish the teaching credential your first time through, but they'll understand, what with dad dying. They might be able to help you stay on track or find support services, bereavement counseling, stuff like that.

* Call your brother more. Find out more about his life, his girlfriend Sarah, have him tell you more tacky fraternity stories and explain why his fraternity was so important to him. Ask him about the trip to Hawaii, and about coaching his baseball team. Find a way to get down there and go out to dinner with him and Sarah.

* Call your sister more. Even awkward conversation is better than no conversation. Get to know Matt, and you and Jen can learn ways to support each other, and to support mom (and Scott) as well, through the grieving period. (I don't have any memories of spending time with my sister during the first year after dad died. I may be misremembering but yeah.)

* Try casual dating, and dates-with-friends. Also, dates-with-self. Strengthen the muscles of independence and self-sufficiency.

* I'd say "purge the clutter" or "get rid of the crap" but I know the crap is a security blanket that isn't going anywhere till you feel better about yourself. In addition to working on your social skills and other crafty things, try going to Al-anon, and hell, learn more about being an Adult Child of Alcoholics. Fran gave you that book because she recognized where you were, even if you didn't. Believe her. Try a meeting.

* Learn to give yourself manicures and pedicures. Seriously, you ARE worth the effort to learn to do such small things that make you happy, make you feel pretty.

* Hug your mom more. Take her along when you go out to walk the dog. Talk to her more, ask for stories of your dad from college and when they were early dating.

* Take your mom out on social events as often as she will let you. She was very very lonely for a very long time, even married to your dad and with you kids and the social life she did have... and she was primary caretaker of your dad during his final illness, even if you helped. She deserves some good times with loving, friendly people, and she won't meet them on her own for over 10 years. Help her out, it'll help you out as well.

* Enjoy the pagan community you're on the verge of joining. Talk with those folks more often, they'll be good for you. Read the books they recommend, seriously, READ them. All the way through. And read some more original sources, too, and as much other mythology as you can lay your hands on. This will be more fun and more useful than getting lost in crappy romance novels. They're good people. If you have to be shy, be shy, but ask them about themselves, learn more about who they are, how they problem solve, and the obstacles they've had in their own lives. This will help you problems-solve, and overcome your own obstacles, and again, give you confidence in your friendship-building skills, coincidentally more friends as well. =)

* Just so you know, you are sexy, and there are often people who think you are cute and want to see more of you. Don't grip so hard onto a relationship because you are worried no more are going to come around. There is enough, you have enough, you are enough. Feed yourself before you feed EVERYBODY else around you. You know about being alone, it hurts but it's not the worst pain ever.

* BTW, the worst pain ever? It's yet to come. You will handle it, and you will learn what you're made of, and it will open your eyes to who and what you are, where you are, and what your path is. It's a kind of birth. Remember that, and treat it as such.

* Be honorable, and be honest. Live by those two rules as much as you can, and treat yourself with kindness and respect.

... If you like, write a letter to the Yourself of Fifteen Years Ago, (assuming you're old enough to have figured out some life-lessons to share with that Yourself), and share with me.
labelleizzy: (music)
Twilight Time, Megan says this is "my song" and I should kill next time I get the chance to sing it with the band...

A Fine Romance

Sugar Moon (the song I sang with Heidi Zegri at the Swing Dance) (I think we did a better job than these guys)

There Will Never Be Another You (awesomesauce)

What'll I do? with an intro my sheet music did not have

Look for the Silver Lining with Chet Baker on trumpet, and singing, separate links

L-O-V-E (which Megan was trying to sing with me and I didn't realize it *facepalm* that woulda RAWKED)

Istanbul (Not Constantinople), like The Four Lads, not like TMBG)

I was a Little Too Lonely (and you were a little too late)

This can't be love (which I want to learn a lot better)

Sentimental Journey (which I don't seem to have the sheet music for anyway)

Surrey with the Fringe on Top (which I didn't like until Yael sultried it up a LOT, then it was WIN)

Tuxedo Junction (which the five 'tweens rocked the HELL out of at the Swing Dance)

My Shining Hour (I didn't really like this one)

Next stage: Youtube links... Hope you like!
labelleizzy: (Default)
Ridiculous and inconceivable that tomorrow is my last day of Summer Session for the Waldorf teacher training.
I won't get to see my friends every day? I won't have dance and art history and creative writing and speech classes every day? I won't get to hang with the incomparable Ken, my sculpture teacher? I won't be learning new songs on the fly every morning with Lisa?


This has been wonderful. I am entirely sorry it's almost over. I will survive the transitions necessary, but for now I have to kick my own ass to get there.

I get to bring a lot home with me. My Main Lesson book from Roberta's class, with art and poetry we created together. Some of my sculpture work. A LOT of literature to read and share, including a great article on the Waldorf philosophy of reading in elementary school. I have work I want to continue to refine, including writing and speech exercises, some of the art in the Main Lesson book, and I have a bit of clay I can use to be creative, and which might last a long while if I am kind to it.

Tonight I have to make a card for Glenda, another for Anne-Marie (my class secretary), and try to do a bit of practice for Saturday's assembly: the skit, the speech exercise, and the eurhythmy performance.

Gonna take the husband out to find some food he finds appealing. Right now he's feeling better enough to play piano, which is a VERY good sign.

Love ya, read y'all later,

labelleizzy: (Default)
The Universe
to me

You're freakin' me out, Elizabeth. I can't remember when you last looked so radiant. When your inner beauty shone so bright. When your step was so light and your smile so heavenly. And it's Monday! What's gotten into you?!

Does this have anything to do with recalling your divinity? Have you realized that time truly is on your side, and that more than enough of it remains for us to do your greatest work? Is it that you now see how much you already have, how many you've already helped, and how much you've already done?

Ahhhh! Your eyes just did that sparkly thing! Moonbeams just shot from your fingertips! The aroma, all around you, is like lavender! And your angels are locked wing to wing singing, "Weeeeeeeeee are the champions..."

...Okay, okay. So I'm pulling your leg a little bit. Truth be told, I can't remember when you didn't look like this.

All together now...
The Universe

OK, my Favorite part of this one, is the Angels singing Queen... but yeah. Radiant? *blushes* Happy, yes. Definitely. Feeling really strong and loving and, okay, maybe a LITTLE bit glowy... Heh.
labelleizzy: (happy virus)
Via [ profile] shadowandstar:

One little compliment or affirmation can make you feel amazing. So give me a compliment, anything in the entire world, even that my shoelaces are pretty, then post this in your own journal. Once you get some comments, put that entry in a memory or tag, and when you are feeling down, just go to that entry and it will remind you how great you are!

Comments are going to be screened, and anonymous is okay.
labelleizzy: (Default)
Notes from The Universe

Here's the thing, Elizabeth. Admission into time and space requires a belief in limits: a belief that both time and space are real; that you can therefore have and have-not; that love can be lost or found; and that you are what your physical senses show you and no more.

These illusions immediately lead you to believe that you are incomplete. Yet, far from indicating you are flawed, they reveal your brilliance by filling you with desire, igniting your emotions, fueling your passions, and catapulting you out into the world where journeys are begun, connections are made, and dreams come true... only to be replaced by new dreams as your divine sense of incompleteness persists.

This is by design, Elizabeth. Feeling incomplete does not make you so. It's how legends are born, giants are made, and history is written. It's why you're here. To ever so briefly escape your true identity as you live with an unquenchable thirst that will lead into adventures of grandeur, discovery, and a realization that love is all there is.

Your trusty accomplice,
The Universe


labelleizzy: (Default)

September 2017

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