Monthly Archives: March 2016

Taming the Saxophone

The sounds of the scales on the saxophone and the morning bustle of everyone getting to their gates for take off is like the countdown beginning on a New Year’s Eve night. Next you think they will be spraying aromatherapy to bring the travel crazies down.

Belts are pulled, boots taken off and once through the ritual of the security, with both hands jammed full, you look for the place to put yourself back together; redress.

Did anyone notice my mismatched socks? Wearing the same seem to be overrated. Pants are falling off, dads struggling to hold them up while carrying a young infant; I have to laugh. I would have offered to assist if I didn’t look the same.

They should design some type of cart for the other side when you have so many people, (The Walton’s Family comes to mind) to transport through security. It would probably make their lives easier and more calm.

Normally I don’t have to travel with my cane often but when I do I notice so many other struggles. Each of the attendants tell you to you to walk down this hall to gate 250, you are currently at one, you are looking at it as if it is a marathon, and you can’t help it, you look down at your feet.

Occasionally, (okay two times) I have been offered a ride and I just took them up on it last night for the first time; then the dreaded escalator, a cane, a roll bag and me is the next part of Survivor.

Hmm, logistics have me stumped each time with no free hand. I throw the bag on and grab hold, it’s like being on the merry go round hanging on for dear life. I wonder does my life insurance and full policy cover injuries from it? Note to self to check it.

It is a full adventure in its self at the airport; my hat is on and I am ready. I hit the washroom, no paper towel as I slide off the cane to the hand dryer. I decide I must go enjoy my morning cup of Java and then think how the heck am I going to carry it. I should design a roller bag with a cup holder attached for those like me.

I sit and drink most of it and then become the most talented hand juggler. One guest decides he wants to walk on my feet; oh sir please look while walking or it may become hazardous to your health as my cane jabs you. I picture myself as a Kill Bill character and it passes, peace is with me again.

It is the moment where you see all the stupid stuff people do and I always think oh dear, please tell me I don’t do that. I etch it in my brain.

I read a story written by a person this morning on how they feel travelling, as a fat person. (This person’s words not mine.) I read it and thought wow we still have a lot in common the anxiety, the not sleeping before hand the struggle getting into the plane, the trip. It is an event that lasts longer than the flight.

It truly is sad that we are all so judgemental. I saw the looks last night. Those that looked me up and down, again, yes I am stylish and make this cane look good.

I let my assistant know where I am and ask if everything is good. She responds so far all great. Perfect I tell her I am at the point to burn something down inside so best I keep my pyrotechnics show to myself.

This is when I decide that if I make it home by dinner I am golden, it will be wine time. It is 8am and flights are cancelled, broken down, and delayed.

I see the book store and I hear the self help books calling my name, off I trudge, hobble or whatever you can call it. I say good morning to Robin Sharma, ask how he is today, and wander as I do to find the book calling me.

There it is, it is a cover of a hawk, and there is a reason I am drawn to it. I purchase it and will read it this weekend.

I hit the early bird rollers down the hall to the plane and get myself settled; turn on my music and the words start down the wavelengths on the greatness of flying, how I can fly. It is another sign and one I will pay attention to.

I believe I know the meaning and am excited to see if I am correct.

I arrive home, and have designed my version of the Uma Thurman dance with my cane. Victory is mine.

“What if I fall? Oh, but darling what if you fly?” E.H.

Love always the Pyrotechnics, Kill Bill, Woman in Process

 

Dazed & Confused, Wings & Wine

The drive to the airport was simpler than I thought, before I knew it I was at the large engulfing airport, I feel overwhelmed.

I get myself inside, process a bag tag to drop my luggage off and get into a line; apparently there are numerous lines and I end up in one to go to London.

Into another line I go, drop the bag, and then hit the next line; the only seat left was at the back of the plane; my vertigo is in full force; it is challenging.

I talk to another representative and he tells me another line to go to for assistance on my seat. My MS is starting to act up, too much pressure already; I start sweating and am feeling as if I am about to be sick.

I now hit the next line for security and I am in full panic mode, the amount of people around me being herded like cattle was stifling my breath. The tears started some and I grabbed my earphones to try and calm the attack down. I just wanted to run away but how do I get home.

I end up being chosen for security, they always say it’s random, unfortunately if I didn’t get chosen every time I flew I would believe them but I don’t. Into another line, another process and it is taking everything I have not to drop down on the ground and cry.

The older gentleman could tell and was asking if everything’s is good, I tell him it’s too many people for me, I need to get through. The airport is too large, he agrees.

Another line, and nothing is happening, or moving. I feel like the Hulk trying to contain himself from turning green and bursting free. If I ripped my jacket off and start into the Hulk, I am sure some lovely men in blue would take me away.

Finally, it is my turn and I have to take the buckle shoes off; my hands not working and I get through. By the time I have done all the line ups with my fellow cows, I can feel my legs slowing down and the body tightening more, the earphones are in, the classical overtaking the stories, the chatter, the constant blabbing I hear all around me. I need them to all disappear except the pilots and crew to take me home.

I eventually end up on my cane to get around, but was assisted by a couple airport ladies on my way. With a cancelled flight, a broken iPhone (it fell while away, thank god I bought insurance) and the Sherlock Holmes case of my missing chicken on my salad, I feel just numb and throbby.

I am looking forward to my own bed, and I guess it will be tomorrow. I have enjoyed a plate of wings, sharing is never an options if wings are around; I would tackle you to the ground to take them from you and the sumo size glass of wine from Argentina is a keeper.

I figured if I ordered a bottle by myself the bartender may get suspicious. This should help assist in my pain and let me sleep for the few hours I get.

My eyes are closing quickly as I couldn’t sleep in the long flight, my body and mind racing.  I feel defeated, today has won this round, tomorrow I will be better.

“Wine brings to light the hidden secrets of the soul.” Horace (Mine says more wings please.)

Love always the flying high, wing eating Woman in Process

P.S did I mention I also got lost at the airport?

 

Friends, Old & New

It’s been an early day, a long flight; the sunshine was on the horizon as I flew halfway across the country for work and I am excited for the upcoming sessions to learn more new areas of expertise.

While in this burb area I had an opportunity to connect with an old friend. She was one who had seen some pretty messy things with me over the years and it was as if I saw her yesterday when we started talking. It has been too long!

We locate a Thai place that is in an old house not far from the hotel. The wine is poured, the laughter comes and we jump back and forth on all the items we cannot wait to share with each other.

The rest of the people kept looking at us as we cracked up. The night passes quickly and the restaurant is closing; I find I am now disappointed we didn’t have more time, but so grateful for the time we had.

I will make a point to travel this way to continue our adventures as I value her in my life. We seemed to find each other when we both needed the other.

They say people come into your lives when you need each other and then they travel on to complete their journey, I love that our paths keep crossing.

This night I met new friends from our sessions. I was my usual dorky self, and for some reason I felt drawn to a few people. They have a story and I could feel it. It truly is amazing how the universe works in divine ways to line it all up.

“There will always be a reason why you meet people. Either you need to change your life, or you’re the one that’ll change theirs.”

Each of us crossing paths of the other, one amazing woman previously worked for the MS Society, boom, connection as I was a past President and hey, the shaking in my arms and body, gave us lots to chat about. I have to look up to the heavens above and ask how he just performed this miracle, oh who am I kidding I have been seeing many a miracles.

There was another awesome feisty and articulating, expressive soul that was beautiful. She is the doppelganger of an old friend. I am in awe of these great individuals and feel like destiny is intervening again. They are all changing my world, and may not even know it.

I listened, I laughed and I felt at home. I think that was so comforting as sometimes, the worry comes in if I can truly be myself and will I suffer from anxiety and the too people-y feeling I get.

I gave myself a goal last night, I would go for dinner, if it was too much for me, I would excuse myself, but I also wanted to get to know three people. I can check that off my list, as there was myself and four others. Conversations flowed, laughter filled the air, immediately and I could feel the tension my body holds, lighten. I didn’t have to carry the weight on my shoulders, no burdens tonight, I could let it go.

When the one lovely individual says I deal with depression; as we were in our get to know stage, I laughed, pointed to myself and said PTSD here. I think right there we were on the same path, kindred souls, both knowing how the other has to handle some aspects. There was this mutual understanding of respect.

The past week, I have said it three times; that this is what I am dealing with. One person tonight was discussing how people say MS doesn’t have a hold on me. I feel the same, I am not defined by these items. They are circumstances of having holes in my brain and a long list for the other just too much to mention.

Yup there are days where I think for the love of God, why and then it passes. Why not me, why not someone with support, I will carry that burden so they don’t have to. Why not, as now I am someone who is trying to change the world, because she sees things differently; life is not the same.

So having these burdens is not joyful; but the perspective it has provided, is a blessing in sheep’s clothing. All I can say, is I can do absolutely anything, and watch me knock this ball out of the park. Here is to completing a home run tomorrow.

“I love meeting new people with a similar mind and vibe that’s worth my time; it’s always nice exploring inner personalities.” Unknown

Love always, the beaming, knock it out of the fricking park, Woman in Process

 

My Pet Rock

When I was a kid I would roam the long driveway and search for the perfect rocks; ones with swirls, lots of color and smooth. Each representing some article I saw in it.

They told me a story, about how they came to be in this driveway, and I would of course have to pick these very special rocks up and give them a home, take care of them.

I would play with them, flip them through my fingers, admire how polished and smooth they were. I would wash them and add them to my Humpty Dumpty coffee can. My grandmother made me a Humpty Dumpty cozy for it. I still have it downstairs on my shelf to this day.

If it didn’t hold rocks, it had my collection of pennies in it. I was recently going through the items in my daughters room and had to laugh, there in the closet is an eighteen styrofoam egg package full of her rock collection. Each one with their own story, small, large, bumpy, smooth; none are the same.

To this day I keep a container of rocks by my chair, I flip them around, look at each one and concentrate on them to bring down the anxiety fits. It seems to help me a great deal; next I think I will purchase a zen garden; adding the sand and combing it will soothe my being when my feathers feel ruffled or I feel I am losing control.

See these rocks were not just any rock, they took away the fear, gave me courage, listened to my stories, and gave me hope; hope in myself.

Many years ago, I carried a courageous rock, and used the story of the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz; you just needed to believe in something to believe in yourself. One day I met someone timid, shy, scared of life.

I realized I had learned my lesson and it was time to pass the rock to someone who needed it more than me. That person held the rock and spoke to a large group of people, she was so scared before; the rock had no special power except she beleived in it; she believed in what she could not before, that she had the ability and the courage to complete her task. She had the power.

“A river cuts through rock, not because of its power but its persistence.”

If you ever really watch me you will find to this day I carry a rock with me, with wealth written on it; you will see me holding it and talking to it when I need power. Early on I thought it meant just material gain, and then I realized one day what the rock’s meaning was truly about; it just took me some time.

It had numerous theories; it was for wealth of knowledge and learning. It was for the amazing wealth of family and friends. It was that at some point I realized the wealth of energy and abundance in my life. It meant so many options and let’s me believe in myself, I have wealth because I am recognizing all the amazingness around me.

Guess now that I have its true meaning, it is time to pass it on to someone else. I hope they realize it’s true superpower or maybe it is just in them.

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”

Love always the rock carrying, someday, Humpty Dumpty, Woman in Process

From Behind the Curtain

The cat was yodelling this morning, time to get up, but the house is still exceptionally quiet. I have snuck out to the living room, made my coffee, brought Miss Mew in her bucket and snuggle into the recliner. All we hear is the sound of the heater kicking in; it is peaceful, full of endless possibilities.

My heart is still heavy from the passing of my aunt, but I also feel as if I am becoming human again, my mind and heart are connecting.

“The rhythm of the body, the melody of the mind and the harmony of the soul create the symphony of life.” B.K.S. Iyengar

I look across the room and there is one of my prized possessions a photograph of my two grandmothers and my daughter when she was a baby. I love it so, and find myself talking to it on days; days when I need strength.

Today I know they are chatting up a storm in heaven with my aunt and I hope that the may speak to me throughout the day, my music is in my ears, I am listening.  My thoughts are distracted as kitty is looking for attention, paws in air.

Last night we enjoyed a home cooked gourmet meal and lengthy conversation. You would think we would run out of things to say, but we don’t. We talk of life, childhoods, my aunt, her paintings, their meanings and the future.

Mr. Jones has taken a liking to my painting of my crow (he says it is a Raven as he is fluffy and fat, not sleek), I explain to him he is not quite done; the question is when do you decide it is really finished? Will I continue to adapt and change him, perfect his image as I see myself? He may be one of many, a series, of how the Raven is really me; an unkindness of one.

He talks of childhood memories of himself losing himself in the woods watching the tricksters communicate to each other, playing with each other and is in fascination of them. He as well learned and studied ants, they too became an obsession of his, the community they built, together. I will paint a picture of ants for him; my brain starts designing.

As we talk I tell him how scared I am of an upcoming event I said yes to, but also I am excited and nervous. I was talking to a friend and she had a wonderful suggestion, it could be time for Spook to peak out more from behind the curtain; my brain is now focusing on it all, letting my thoughts develop.

How will I speak? What parts of it all should I speak on? If I get emotional how will I handle it? I have ideas. When I begin speaking on something challenging at some point I switch into my auto pilot work mode that has saved me over all my obstacles. I can get through it and take care of the issue and then I melt down into a pile of ghostbusters goo in private.

I have told a few more people what took place with me and I got the standard reaction, their mouths drop open. Shocked they compose themselves and tell me they were just worried that I was okay but had no idea what was happening. I hid it well.

I answer the main question, and put the info out there; I can see you are shocked, she tries to respond, I said even the strongest have an Achilles heal at one point and it just caught up to me; another friend calls it my kryptonite.

Each of us has it; each of us truly have the power of a superhero. Many may not see it, but each of us was gifted, we all need to reflect and locate it, focus it, use it.

“There is a superhero inside all of us, we just need the courage to put the cape on.” Unknown

Mr. Jones tells me last night the same thing; for some reason I feel everything around me very deeply, I have a deep reserve of empathy. I will believe it is a gift and my superpower; now to put the superpower to good use. How do you do that?

I think I have been finding my way and working on how to not absorb all the energy circling around me. I practice focus, stillness and look at one object, blind by what is taking place in the area. To assist at times when the anxiety kicks in, my earphones are dug out, placed in my ears and the sounds of Tchaikovsky fill them; my heart slows its beatings my blood pressure lowers.

“The joy of giving is the greatest joy of life.”

One of the most important aspects I feel is to use my superpower for is volunteering. If you can share a little bit of yourself to give to someone else, then that may be your power.

“Know your powers. The power of your words, your silence, your mind, your body language and your body itself.” Sonya Teclai

Maybe you are excellent at raising money for causes, maybe you enjoy conversing and are a great listener, maybe you are fun loving and enjoy a game of strategy; these are all superpowers. Superpowers are meant to be shared; true superheroes may hide in plain sight.

Well tonight I better get to my chores, my cape needs to be washed and hung to dry for the morning.

“No, I’m not insulted at all when people call me sensitive. Feeling things deeply is my super power. I’m an empathetic badass.”

Love always the cape wearing, empathetic badass, Woman in Process

 

Lost Earring

It was a long day of upsets after upsets, my temper starting to fly as I deal with each issue. I find myself heading to the physical activity to try and clear my mind to keep going; my body needs release, something has been brewing today (And it is not Spook).

I am just about at the end of my stamina and I still have a long way to go. I have to find some reserve deep down inside and I start to pull as hard as I can; the anger has given me a bit more to run on, and has emotionally exhausted the last of my niceness for the day; or so I thought.

I begin my conversations with others and in no time I am starting to feel better, remorse from before as always and I strive to stay focused on the pleasantries.

I answer the phone, reach up and find I have lost my grey pearl earring. It is a beautiful shade of grey; the same colour my soul feels today. I feel my body sagging and my soul is shrivelling into a cold old potato.

I wonder if the full moon is upon us or the Gods have just decided today is one of those days to test every aspect and in some way when the challenge is completed there is a prize.

My personal phone is ringing and ringing, it stops and then starts again. I call back the number and find my aunt has passed. I speak for a couple minutes and then shed a tear and tell myself I do not have time for anything else tonight to consume me.

I focus; think about her wonderful hearty laugh, I laugh out loud, straighten myself up; deep breath and keep going. I will spend time later and observe some quiet time, reflecting on the memories I have, the paintings she has created, the ones I recently acquired from her.

She is the first of many aunts on my Mother’s side of the family, all of them looking alike, same mannerism and some very distinct differences. She is the first to pass and I remember how again life will keep changing on us.

Auntie Elizabeth, just one of the names we called her as she changed her name like the colours of her artwork; each depending on how she felt during that time was a very talented and gifted artist.

I have on the table two of my favourite paintings completed in watercolours and colour pencil. The first was an assignment of a self portrait and in this painting she finds companionship with a black crow and shares a bowl of seeds. The second a large, bold, deeply rooted tree alone in the meadow, growing strong.

Both called to me when we were to choose them;  the crow, misunderstood, judged by his colours and depth, around a brighter background and a sombre looking aunt who could relate to another side of him.

The tree with a secret message written in the clouds, with a strong foundation, spreading out with rings of wisdom. Lastly I pull one more painting, drawn in charcoal out and begin to study it.

I giggle because it is so me; a dark rooted tree, an hourglass, a light, a bullseye and some fun kids toys; tucked in to a small circle a quote referencing Psalm: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

“Two lines down, I am afflicted very much.” Maybe we were more connected and similar than I thought than just a name.

So today as I sit with my tea I will head to my little studio; pick up the paintbrush and will cover the canvas with paint and find my inspiration from the thoughts that jump into my head of my Auntie; I have a feeling a crow is in order.

I hope she can let our other loved ones know how much we miss them; I hear them laughing all the time. My heart plays its own requiem mass for her.

I take my potato and put it into the sun, I am sure it will sprout more life again in a day or two.

“God saw you getting tired and a cure was not to be. So he put his arms around you and whispered “Come to me”.”

Love always from the sad, angry and crow loving, Woman in Process

 

 

Changed Journey

It’s super early in the morning, it is still black outside with a hint of the street light popping through the curtains. I slept, not restful but am excited for today. This is the day we make some large changes at work, good changes and I am ready for my training.

I lay there for a bit longer and enjoy the snuggle I get from Mr. Kitty, he nuzzles his head beside mine and I listen to his light purrs and his breathing. You can feel his heart beating and I am thinking; now this is such love.

I work to organize my thoughts for the day, to be thankful that I woke up again. Today I will don my mask and ensure I keep myself in the work thoughts that I need to.  I hope there are no squirrels for the day that catch my eye and run my brain away.

Nuzzled in for my morning coffee I work on my reflections; reflections of the direction the writing takes me, direction of my thoughts and the direction of the items that still task me. I had spent last night journal listing all my items for “20 minutes” and listened to Mozart while I close my eyes thinking of where I need clarity; where I still need guidance.

Some days feel like a walk in the park; as if the positivity was jumping up from each leaf still showing on the ground and other days I just see it painted black, grey, a mixture of them in an arbitrary way.

The mornings when I can drag myself from the covers trying to entice me back in, seem to be the best time for me to work on myself. I struggle more late evening as my brain keeps flittering from the endless listing that grows like Santa’s list for toys from young boys and girls.

I have to ask myself, is there anything I would change, good and bad that has happened or was it all predetermined to show me a new direction. I close my eyes to meditate.

“Just like our eyes, our hearts have a way of adjusting to the dark.” Adam Stanley

The past few weeks with the hype and business have left me a bit worn. I have not been true to myself and have put some of my time behind, getting a job done to my standards. After today is completed I can take my deep sighing breath and continue on where I left off. Feels a bit like a new regime workout and I have eaten the doughnuts more than one day in a row. (Did someone say doughnut? Spook asks)

She could use a tasty to go with her coffee, not much of a morning person; she wanders to the couch and jumps up, feet on the pillows, yawning, one eye still closed. She is just watching me as usual, watching to see where I go today, and if she needs to plan to save me at some point.

When I was young I would listen to the classical music in the farmhouse; each section of music tugged and pulled at my emotions, I felt all the pain, the sorrow, the happy, and used this when I would be dealing with life as I grew with all the modernized listening gadgets.

Many nights I sat by myself the house empty and the music as loud as the old stereo would allow the record to go without blowing the speakers so I could feel it.  I would sit with my tape recorder and add the music to add life to my skating on the pond. My movements part of the music, reflective, bold and determined.

The tears just roll down my cheeks, no sounds come from me. I acknowledge the feelings of loneliness, and sadness from a time that most speak of fondness of childhood memories. Mr. Jones just watches me and rubs my foot, just reminding me he is there.

I do have some good memories, but most I share with the black clouds over me and a smile on my face. I guess my morning cry is completed and now I need my laugh to start my day.

Not wanting to review one part of my life has made this super difficult to move forward, guess into the shadows I go. I keep trying to dodge it and hold the reins back. No use, I give up and pack my picnic basket for the journey on the road less travelled.

“May light find me in the depths of the darkness and pull me back to the existence I long for.” Spook

Scorpio: Your weirdness will make you stronger. Your dark side will keep you whole. Your vulnerability will connect you to the rest of the suffering world. Your creativity will set you free.

Love always the deep, dark, Scorpio, classical listening Woman in Process.

 

 

Inspirational Thank you

My inky pen is opened and I sit thinking how do I say all that I want to. I am word challenged, it doesn’t happen a lot, but more when I choose to express myself verbally. I get tongue tied, awkward, and my flashing Beetlejuice sign is blinking over and over. The word Dork, is today’s sign. Yes, that is me, a big dork and I wear my dork badge proudly (I try to).

Will they think I am more awkward than I am? (My self critic replies to how awkward I am). Do I come off silly? These are just some of the worries my mind starts reacting too. My self critic is in fine form.

I knock him off my shoulder; take a breath and just express what I can. The tears start to form, and I am feeling a bit of the wind knocked out of my sail; compose myself again and I will be ready to take on the world. Okay maybe not the world today, I will plan on conquering that tomorrow; today I will start with something smaller, I am sure I saw someone with a treat.

Do you ever have those days (or life) where you just want to say thank you in a way people realized how it has stitched a little piece together on your heart. You feel a little brighter; a little bit more whole. You can picture your heart, all patch worked together; a few missing pieces to be found; they must be with my puzzle pieces.

Today I tried, with my card and hope the person understands me. It is a small item from my heart, but I keep working on small each day; appreciating each item that has been given to me, a kind word, a smile, a thought and a thank you.

My thoughts are mushed together, and I focus on my tasks at hand, fluff my hair and adjust my crown to keep going, (looks like I may need to have it sized again). I continue the day and find I start thinking about how those that have been such an inspiration to me that have been helping me along this journey.

I make a point to say thank you; I really appreciate it. I hope they understand my hidden meaning; (Spook says provide flash cards, as my subtle meaning is sometimes not clear or my Beetlejuice sign would work better).

“When you recognize that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowl eternally in your hands, but also have the capacity to fill them? The word for that is healing.” Cheryl Strayed

Someone I would consider a friend said to me today, everyone loses it Mrs. Jones, and describes what they are feeling lately (They know some of my story, the short story). I know; sometimes people don’t realize you are losing it inside regularly, you feel a mess; icky and sticky, like someone has duct taped your thoughts haphazardly.

You hold it together, yet there are times when you decide you need to give up, just a small break; it is time to tag out. Defeated, and discouraged, you hope each day is not the same as the one you finished.  You trudge down the road; you continue your journey, you continue working on forgiveness to yourself. You are exactly where you need to be.

A beautiful picture comes to my mind, a chair in the middle of nowhere, on the road. I work on grounding myself, my classical music is tinkering in my headphones, the strokes on the piano keys make me close my eyes and imagine the art, the skill, the emotion, the persistence.

Today I end the day with my bowl a little empty, a little inspiration and will look at how I can fill it each day. Far from perfect, I keep trying.

“The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began… Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow, if I can.” J.R.R. Tolkien

Love always from the filling her bowl, road travelling, Woman in Process

Your Song

My head is a bit foggy today so I will do my best in depicting these thoughts.

I was looking back on today, last week, the time since I returned to work for the new year. I thought about how I work, how I stay organized and why I do things in my sequences and my idiosyncrasies. Why follow the yellow brick road?

My mind functions at it’s best if I stay organized, not only to be successful in the business and ensure I have all the tasks covered but the biggest reason is to keep my mind less cluttered; organizing each process to try and make my life simpler.

Everything is broken into small tasks, lists are created, follow up notes made, and poof (Spook waved her wand) the job is done (high fives when we have victory).

I was watching how others create their processes. When I see someone successful in their planning I pay attention to them and see what qualities I really like and aim to adapt them into my world.

As I people watch, I am analyzing and learning from them; learning from their actions. I do not normally come right out and ask questions, I may just observe how they complete their tasks over and over, considering why they proceeded in that manner; completing a process of elimination in my thoughts.

Each portion of what I learn from them I work to adapt, it becomes part of my song, part of my habits, part of what I begin to share with others once I feel confident with it and if not, I analyze it more. It may seem trivial to others, but over time, days, years, you realize the gift they shared with you; they have embellished your habits.

Control of the tasks, is control of my time and my mind; some days, not all days. It gives me a small piece of satisfaction, in the larger scope of the world with it’s constant changing and the cloudiness of the periscope. Looking back some of the best teachers are those that taught from the heart and may not have even realized the lesson they provided.

Who, that you remember made a large impact on your life and helped you define your personality? Each of us has someone that became a mentor, that still may be, that becomes someone else’s. If you left anything behind what would it be? How would you define your legacy from what you shared or gifted to another?

I can think back to numerous people that were mentors, that helped guide me as I was looking for control of my life. Some reached out and held my hand, helping guide me in the direction, some gave me the pencil and a blank sheet of paper to work on mind mapping; building and looking inside for the guidance; some shared knowledge from books, speeches, always trying to light up a world that at times was quite dark and fragile.

Each of them helped light a fire inside and inspire me to continue on a journey that at times I questioned more than once. Doesn’t matter if you are learning the piano, figure skating or playing chess, you recognize that you will have to apply dedication and time to the craft (and always heart).

For those that are lost in their journey, I hope you recognize your guide or angel who is pitching at you; suppose to aid you to get to the next base and work on bringing you into home because the run into home seems to come when you least expect it and you feel propelled into the endless possibilities life has for you.

Thank you to those that mentor me, have mentored and those I will drive crazy in the future mentoring me. You helped turn my darkness into a scenic window view.

Not all of them are who you thought would be your navigation guide. (The photo above was a great depiction of it and I cannot stop looking at it.)

“The whole purpose of education is turn mirrors into windows.” Sydney D. Harris

Love always the organized, window looking, Woman in Process