I M Perfect lady

Author: bjukuri

  • Bathed in the Light.

    “A chick pecks its way out of its eggshell and is born into the world when a toxic gas fills up the interior of the egg. At that point, it is literally dying to be born.
    Is there a toxic situation in your life that it’s time to break free of in order to born to the next level of your existence? Is there a symbolic eggshell surrounding you that is time to peck away at, freeing yourself to live more fully?”
    Marianne Williamson

    I love this question and I love the visual it portrays, how we can literally feel like we are suffocating in life and need to start pecking holes in what we are doing.

    And I love “dying to be born”.

    Most changes, at least life altering changes, require a dying in order for there to be a birth, a letting go in order to grab on to something new, a giving up one way before gaining something new.

    Change is a one two step.

    “You have to be willing to let go of who you are, to become who you want to be.” I can’t remember the author of that quote, but Wayne Dyer uses this often.

    The little chick can’t stay in the egg and be born, she has to be willing to get out of her toxic life in order to thrive.

    And the greatest news is that we will know intuitively when the time has come, when we can no longer remain in a relationship, when its toxic energies simply overwhelm and threaten to kill the essence of who we are IF we are to remain inside the shell of that old relationship.

    Like a very brave little chick, we have to go out into a very big and strange land…leaving behind a relationship we have outgrown.

    As the little chick, once we peck our way free of this toxicity, we are free to live a life we can’t even imagine it can be.

    From a small confined limiting space to the wide-open field of pure potential that Rumi speaks about.

    The visual is striking, a dark small space of an eggshell or the expanse that surrounds it.

    Held in the darkness or bathed in the Light.

  • Spoiled Brat?

    Sarah Ban Breathnach writes in her book, “Moving On,” let’s take a fresh look at the word that saps our strength often:

    Scared.

    “What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not?” wonders Toni Morrison. Fair enough question. Woman have always know how to comfort the fears of others; we just don’t remember to use the same tender, loving, tactics on ourselves. So the next time you feel a random panic attack starting, take a deep breath, and transpose the “a” and the “c” in “scared” and you’ll find not only another word but a world of difference. You’ll uncover the

    Sacred

    Doesn’t that make you feel better already? It works for me, every time. I’d be willing to bet the house that your sacred, like mine, is very close – the walls surrounding you or the floorboards supporting you, even if they need a good scrub. The best definition I ever heard of fear is “False Events Appearing Real.” When I am anxious I notice that my fears seem to be speculative future-tense marauders. Will there be enough? What will I do? How will I cope? The best way I know how to disarm such fear is by keeping a Gratitude Journal. A Gratitude Journal is a polite, daily thank-you note to the Universe- and a reminder to yourself of the very real blessings you have now. In this moment. You know how insulted you are after you’ve knocked yourself out for your kids and all you get in return is surly silence. What am I raising you probably wonder, a bunch of brats? Well, an ancient spiritual axiom teaches us, “As below, so above.”

    Because you’re not spoiled rotten, at the end of every day write down five things or moments you experienced for which to be thankful. Small pauses that brought a smile or a sense of relief during the day. The kindness of somebody holding your place in the post office line when you have a lot of packages to get from the car. The plumber showing up on time. Fitting in to last summer’s shorts. A hug from a friend. A fortune cookie with just the right message. Saying no to a bake sale without guilt. Easily switching carpooling days. Getting an extension on the deadline. Better yet, meeting the deadline, Phew!

    We think it’s the big moments that define our lives – the promotion, the new baby, the renovated kitchen, the wedding. But the narrative of our lives is written in the small, the simple and the common. The overlooked. The discarded. The reclaimed. Life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but the moments. You must experience each one before you can appreciate it.

    Whether you are chopping carrots, shampooing your hair, writing a memo, making love, talking on the phone, walking the dog, or eating an apple, savor those sensations involved. All of those moments, whether happy, routine, or even painful are Life’s heartbeats.
    Sarah

    In the past six years I have been made to be much more sensitive to each of life’s heartbeats, to feel that which is in reality now, and even how life seems to be lived on a pinhead of time, how it literally is the heartbeat of life.

    This moment, the one we are breathing in is where life happens and to be grateful or even to see all that arrives is overwhelming.

    I love how she says we could be like spoiled brats and not even pay attention to all that the Universe gives us each day.

    Yesterday while delivering mail in the high winds and whiteout conditions, I focused on the black bare roads at times, and was so grateful to see their blackness in midst of swirling white. “Thank you black roads!”

    When you begin to look for things to be grateful for, you will find more and more grateful things.

    I will just watch how I go about my days, how I approach or leave little moments in time, and I a grateful child or a spoiled brat?

  • Life Unfolds.

    Well, I quit the yoga challenge. It became more about the numbers and less about me, somehow I got lost behind the counting, the doing and forgot about me.

    The me that needs the yoga, my body, mind and soul. I forgot to view this from me; instead I was outside of me doing the yoga.

    It was a step ahead of me and I was nowhere in yoga.

    I have taken a few days off, to cleanse myself from the doing of a challenge to get back into being a lady whose body loves yoga.

    Whose body needs the yoga to feel flexible and strong, whose mind opens and breathes, and my life has a balance with yoga.

    It is about me and yoga, not yoga and me.

    This is true in all levels of my life.

    I am not sure if I can explain this correctly, but in the past all that I did created who I was, without doing I was nothing.

    I was defined daily by what I did, the doings created me.

    What I have now discovered is if I do something for reasons that are not birthed within me, I am lost from my life and in some foreign land most likely called your business.

    I believe that when my daughter’s life was in crisis, I hopped out of mine and into hers and it way threw off my balance. And during this time the yoga challenge beckoned me daily to join it, no matter my inner state of being.

    One thing led to another and it led me away from me.

    I had fallen out of my life.

    Now I am gathering me back to me.
    Letting my daughter have her life, her choices, her responsibilities and at the same time refocusing on regaining the balance within me.

    I know that my body and my day run better when I take the time at the top of the morning and breathe and work my body.

    I know that I feel best when I stay in my life and live from the inside out.

    I will selfishly bring me to my life and I will selfishly bring me to yoga.

    I arrive and life unfolds.

  • We Play!

    “When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college – that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, “You mean they forget?” ~Howard Ikemoto

    Imagine a world where we didn’t forget to be a child, to have the childlike wonder of the world, a sense of knowing we know how to do anything without fear and lack of self-confidence?

    Where we didn’t have to take classes to learn how ‘draw correctly’ or write perfectly, but instead do what feels right for you.

    It seems at times we are taught so much, we are taught how not to be ourselves.

    We learn until we lose our way back to our self.

    Perhaps the class we need the most is an open class without rules or expectations, a class where we go to unlearn all the fears and lacks that have been preached to us, a safe zone where we shed the years and layers of all the things that are not us.

    A shedding room, a fleecing space where we can get back to the childlike place, where we are the center of the Universe, where we can do anything and we admire ourselves and all that we accomplish, where we affix stars to all that we do each day, where there is an unlimited amount of energy and things we want to see and do, where the world is wide open and we are free.

    How do we take off the heavy cloaks of doubt, fear, and lack that we drag around each day? How do we quiet the voices that have trained us to be motionless in fear?

    We wiggle free by doing things no adult in their ‘right’ mind would do… we play!

  • Using Words.

    I went to my first night of the Writers on Location series held in the little white church on Finlandia’s campus.

    The topic this week was singer/songwriters. Eric Koskinen and Mike LaBeau entertained us and shared their experience about putting words and music together.

    How music is used to back up a word, how it can change the meaning of the word by how the music flows behind it, swirls around it and carries it away.

    They spoke of the Business of song writing, how you write for a hit record, for a catchy tune, to be the one that makes the money, and how sunshiny bright tunes sell better than the dark renderings of pain and sorrow.

    Seeing how there is a market for ‘lightness’ and how the more poignant journeys of the soul are of lesser value in the market place seemed sad to me.

    I came away knowing it would not be fun to write for an audience or for a buck, to have to force words of a certain flavor forward.

    They did sing their songs and you could hear their hearts and souls wind around the words and music, perhaps not a best seller, but songs with feelings and longings, words sharing with us who they are.

    Most singers today do not write their own songs, they are actually acting out what someone else has wrote; someone in a room with a few other folks, playing on instruments and tossing around words to frame up a song. The singer than gets the song and uses their voice, but the words are not from their soul, but a collaboration, bits and pieces strung together to make a story to be sung.

    Listening to all the different writers, authors, storytellers, songwriters, singers I see that we all use whatever avenue we are comfortable with to share our journeys. That we each have an outlet for expression, an Art form that we happen upon that is our vessel to express what is in our souls.

    Words are words and how we arrange them in ways that leave a trail for others to follow what we feel is the magic to writing.

    Perhaps it is getting in touch with feelings, digging down deep into the caverns of our soul’s journey, and then using the words to deliver their message by laying them out in a poem or a song, in a book or a blog that connects us together.

    It is the longing to be heard, to be understood, to know that we are not alone, that we are not the only ones who have suffered, known sorrow, lived through confusion and angst, to be carried away by overwhelming pain or bursting with joy or engulfed in love that leaves you breathless.

    Connecting souls on this journey called life, using words.

  • The Only Place I Can Be.

    I am wondering about the Bug called Worry and how it can bite at anytime, how it can sneak up and take you out of any enjoyment you may be experiencing or perhaps not even let you go to enjoyment, instead you dance and waltz with Worry.

    My brother spoke of a Panic Attack, would this be an attack from the Worry Bug?

    That out of nowhere this bug sneaks in and steals your peace, attacking this moment of time?

    When I found myself right side up in what felt like my upside down world, it was a world that opposed what the bug dreamed up.

    It seemed like there were two worlds, the Mind Bug and Reality.

    This Mind/Worry Bug was relentless, and what I did was to take that bug and slam it with Reality over and over again, showing it what is.

    I literally had to put pen to paper to see what this Damn Bug wanted me to do.

    Mostly it pulled me away from my life and into lives I had no control over, it ripped me away from my peaceful home doing what I loved to do, to go into someone’s life I had no business being in. It painted people in colors that were so off color from what they were actually like and then had me worrying about letting them go.

    Maybe its nickname could also be Meddling or Hell.

    Even today I may take a quick trip with it and see a future fear or horrid life, a sad and lonely existence, but it feels so bad, I yank myself back and hold on to something in my nowadays world.

    If you had to pick this Worry Bug out of a lineup what would it look like, where does it live, how does it operate and who invented this???

    I am sure some religions call this Bug the Devil.

    What I think it is an untrained mind. A mind that is totally out of your control and one that hates reality.

    This bug lives anywhere but in the here and now.

    In the past six years I have been treating this mind like an unruly child, and find that I can oppose many of its thoughts and when it comes in and tromps into a moment of enjoyment, I can listen for a moment, but can make the choice as to what to believe.

    As a woman who lived for many years in the land of pretend, I find great comfort and peace in the land called reality.

    It is here that the Bug has a hard time beating; it usually falls down when faced with what is.

    Byron Katie says, “Reality wins only but 100% of the time!”

    I welcome this bug into my reality, but I usually have a dialogue with it before I head out into the land of unknown.

    When I find myself powerless, stressed and out of sorts, you can be damn sure that the Mind/Worry Bug has led me astray from reality.

    What I do to bring me back is grab on to anything that I can hold onto and be with my breath. For where my breath is the bug can’t be.

    Where am I breathing, who is here now, what is going on, feeling my reality as a blind person uses Braille; I settle back into Now.

    For Now…is the only place I can be.

  • Best Valentine!

    On Happy Valentine’s Day, be the one to care for your heart; speak its truth and follow its desire, revel in its uniqueness, be grateful for its strength, celebrate its joys and find all that bring it life.

    Our hearts are our business, no one can tend to them better than us, we are the ones who know what makes them sing and twirl with happiness and what plummets them down to the depths of hell, what makes them giggle with sheer joy and fill them with lightness, be a great caretaker of your own heart.

    Take your heart on a wild adventure, show it something it loves, let it breath in Love, Peace and Joy, do something that it longs for, listen to its subtle and not so subtle wishes. Or say what it needs to say, feel what it needs to feel, allow its truth to shine forth.

    On Valentine’s Day others offer to us how much they love and appreciate us, but we too can celebrate this day by giving ourselves our hearts desire.

    Be your own best Valentine!

  • The Artist Way

    On the CD of “Romancing the Ordinary” by Sara Ban Breathnach, she mentions Julia Cameron a few times. She is the author of the book, “The Artist Way”.

    My brother sent me the book and notebook that went along with it a little over six years ago to begin discovering the Artist within me.

    Julia wanted us to write “Morning Pages” just a simple practice of writing a few pages each morning, putting to paper our thoughts.

    They could be just stating what we had to do that day, how we were feeling, just ramblings but getting them out of our heads and on to the pages, cleaning up the space to be creative.

    I was a beginning student to this Way, when all hell broke lose in my life, and what surprised me greatly, is that I clung to these morning pages, which often grew to day long pages, for sometimes I wrote morning, noon and night.

    I filled that first book in a short time and then bought my first journal and after four years of writing longhand, I began a blog.

    I still write most days, sometimes more depending upon the unsettledness of my soul; writing is now part of who I am.

    What is so synchronistic is this book came to me just a week or so shy of a major event in my life, and it helped me find my way.

    What also has happened simultaneously my Artist arrived, she is having a ball playing with ladies, fabric, colors, designs, and is going places Artists go and her work is in an Art Gallery.

    I don’t know the way, but it seems to happen anyway.

    Perhaps that is the Artist Way.

    (I will have to go back and read in her book to see the marks I hit unbeknownst to me.)

  • That Loving Feeling?

    “Love Must Be Tough” by Dr. James C. Dobson, is a book a friend recommended for my daughter to read, by I am reading it first.

    In chapter three called, “The Tender Trap” he states first the three conclusions he has so far.

    1. Marital (and premarital) conflict typically involves one partner who cares a great deal about the relationship and the other who is much more independent and secure.
    2. As a love affair begins to deteriorate, the vulnerable partner is inclined to panic. Characteristic responses include grieving, lashing out, begging, pleading, grabbing, and holding; or the reaction may be just the opposite, involving appeasement and passivity.
    3. While these reactions are natural and understandable, they are rarely successful in repairing the damage that has occurred. In fact, such reactions are usually counterproductive, destroying the relationship the threatened person is trying so desperately to preserve.

    In the previous chapter we explored the fears and sorrows reverberating in the mind of the rejected partner. Now let’s take the next step by looking at the husband or wife who is drifting away. In order to pull that person back from the brink, we need to understand the forces operating within. What do you believe motivates a man or woman to terminate a marriage? What thoughts are typical of one who rejects the unconditional love offered at home? What secrets lie deep within the psyche of the woman who has an affair with her boss, or the man who chases the office flirt? Is the desire for a new thrill the only enticement, or the more basic motivators operating below the surface?

    It has been my observation that the lust for forbidden fruit is often incidental to the real cause of marital decay. Long before any decisions is made to ‘fool around’ or walk out on a partner, something basic has begun to change in the relationship. Many books on this subject lay the blame on the failure to communicate, but I disagree. The inability to talk to one another is a symptom of a deeper problem, but not the cause itself. The critical element is the way one spouse begins to perceive the other and their lives together. It is a subtle thing at first, often occurring without either partner being aware of the slippage. But as time passes, one individual begins to feel trapped. That’s the key word, Trapped….

    This intense desire to escape from a marriage can occur on the first day of the honeymoon or fifty years thereafter. For men, it is the primary ingredient of a midlife crisis. But these feelings of constraint are by no means unique to men. For women, they usually (but not always) occur in response to an unromantic relationship that refuses to be energized. A wife may ‘reach’ for her husband for years, beg for his attention, nag him when he fails to notice, and the scream to herself, “Help! I’m suffocating in this loveless marriage! Somebody get me out!”

    How sad it is, furthermore, that this trapped partner who is fighting an impulse to run is rapidly sinking deeper and deeper into a form of marital quicksand. Why? Because the more he struggles to gain his freedom (or even secure a little breathing room), the more his panic stricken spouse clutches his neck. Even the fluctuating emotions of the rejected party are interpreted as attempts to grab and hold.
    For example:

    The response of grief: “Please don’t hurt me. Come and meet my needs.”

    The response of anger: “Get back in line, stupid! How dare you try and walk out on me!”

    The response of blame: “How could you do this to me and the kids?”

    The response of appeasement: “Name it and you can have it. Just don’t leave me.”

    The response of servility (the doormat): “No matter what you do, I’ll go on smiling ‘cause you’re mine.”

    The common denominator between these varied responses is one of entrapment. They each restrict the freedom of the less interested party. For someone in the trapped syndrome, love then becomes an obligation rather than an incredibly wonderful privilege. Perhaps it is now obvious why the natural reaction of the panic-stricken spouse typically drives the cool partner farther away; the more he pulls back from the relationship to gain desired space, the tighter the bonds close around him. He sometimes becomes almost claustrophobic in his desperate attempts to breathe – to get the noose off his neck. He may even resort to infidelity as a vehicle to escape from his partner’s clutches.” Dr. Dobson

    How affirming this book is to my experience. He is explaining how the trapped feelings don’t work, while I am experiencing the joys of the free-range children and I love you today.

    What is sad though, is that the ‘other woman’ is used to escape, an excuse to leave the place he feels trapped.

    And I bet that she feels like freedom to him, but the other woman is actually a bridge across the moat to freedom, but not what he is seeking. He wants his freedom and he will use her to get it.

    She is being used to set him free from a marriage he feels trapped in. Incredible.

    Of course he has this death like grip on her, for she is the answer or his way out!

    And I can see how she does feel like she is ‘saving him’ or rescuing him from a ‘broken marriage’ etc, for she is saving him, but little does she know, it isn’t so much about her, but a way out.

    Not sure if my daughter will read this book, but it has given me a clear view of the dynamics she is in.

    Freedom or trapped what gives you that loving feeling?

  • While waiting…

    What came to me today while mindlessly tossing mail, was that the reason I was so sorely affected by my daughter’s life, was that her life was in my life, that we didn’t have a clear and separate space between what is hers and what is mine, the apron string was still connected.

    The impact upon my body and psyche was equal to it happening to me, where my inner wounded child responded, my ‘mental lady’ mom came out ready to fight battle, and the Loving awareness arrived all fully engaged in her life as soon as she spoke of her crisis.

    What was so beautiful and tragically displayed were how all the parts of me felt and responded and finally released her to be on her own, a completely felt separation and liberation for myself but more importantly for her.

    She was given her life without any strings attached to me.

    While it was the hardest thing for me to do, to let my child go it was almost like a second birth, but this time a birth of freedom.

    And a three-week labor of intense inner working and letting go.

    As long as I feel the strain or worry of what her actions will be, there is a string attached into my world, and I have to snip it to let her be fully and completely free.

    It is not to say, I will no longer give word of wisdom or point out what I see in reality, or how I see changes happening between her and I, I will. But the greatest thing is, that our bodies and psyches are separated.

    It almost seems like this was my last co-dependent exam, a lesson with huge consequences one that my old co-dependent self would have longed to get wrapped up in like an old cozy blanket.

    Yet this time it felt like I was being possessed by another’s life, that their choices had the power to make or break my life, take my peace, destroy my inner sanctity of love and joy and that I was once again riding shotgun in another’s life.

    It was the ultimate life review of how it feels to be a victim in a co-dependent relationship.

    When I look at my daughter there are no strings attached to my happiness or my unhappiness, instead I am sitting in a place of wonder.

    I wonder what it is she will do.
    I wonder how it will affect her.
    I wonder, but my life isn’t totally eclipsed by her life, I feel space opening up and distance coming in.

    A place where If she is to suffer, I can be there as the non-suffering one, we are no longer one big animal of two.

    Today, I was listening to a CD by Sarah Ban Breathnach called, “Romancing the Ordinary.” What she is teaching and talking about is how to romance your self and be fully engaged and in love with you and your life.

    It is simply delightful in the very simple ways we can look around where we are and see what is all there. How we can listen instead of just hear, how we can use all our senses to connect to the Universe.

    I am thinking as long as I was connected to the lives of so many, there wasn’t space or feelings of my senses left for me to use in my life, for me to feel for me, to see for me, to be for me, for so long my life has been used by others.

    Sarah spoke of the waiting. And in my case I have been waiting for my daughter to make a choice, breathlessly waiting, life stopping waiting.

    What Sarah suggests is to make use of the time while we wait, while the Universe and her soul converse and decide, I can use this time in a million little ways.

    While I wait, I can quilt, I can read, I can sit and watch the sunrise, I can sip tea and watch the fire, feel the warmth of a quilt, smell the scent of a candle, and the waiting will pass by…in delight.

    I can’t know tomorrow or what or when or if, how her life will go, but I can get busy in my life while I wait.

    I love this.

    I already listened to a few CD’s while I waited.

    I enjoyed a bowl of soup and homemade bread, while I waited.

    I love that I am free to pass the time while I wait, instead of sitting and worrying while I wait.

    What a huge gift to live my life while I wait to see what transpires in hers. When she needs me, I can stop enjoying the waiting and act.

    I can’t tell you how this simple idea freed me or gave me permission to enjoy my time while waiting.