recurrence

When I was a teen, I had recurring dreams... recurrently... if that's a word. So much, in fact, that I can still remember the dream I had whenever I faced large projects I wasn't sure I'd properly prepared for. And if you don't realize this, a control freak is never convinced that they've properly prepared for anything.
Why did they stop in adulthood? I guess you'd have to consult my subconscious. Maybe I felt like I had everything under control, so there was no need for a dream to work out the puzzles created during wakefulness. Maybe I had gotten into such a rut that I HAD no puzzles.
A few nights ago, I dreamt that I walked into my backyard. The raised bed containers were intact, but my garden was gone. All the plants had been plucked out by the roots and discarded who knows where. As I surveyed the rest of the yard, which seemed fine, I could see just beyond the fenceline where my neighbor's property began. My neighbor's backyard looked like he'd won a contest to have it landscaped. All grass was gone. All structures were gone. Red clay remained. I stepped inside the neighbor's house, which in my dream had become white and mult-storied. There were stairwells everywhere, and young kids of all ages hanging from walls, lounging against doorjams and essentially making racket. Think Never Never Land. They all seemed to know me. They felt familiar, but I couldn't identify specific kids.
I woke up around that point and realized something. I'd had this dream before. Small details had changed. The last time I had the dream, the landscaping destruction had left my home intact, but had taken over the whole neighborhood, like a backwards development project where the workers built the homes before grading the lots or paving the road. And when I'd gone in the house last time, all the stairs were the same, but the children ran from me, hiding in an odd tree growing at the center of the home. I spent the rest of the dream searching for them.
What conclusion would I draw from this? That the uprooting of my life is approaching, and it's getting closer? None of the destruction happened in my yard, but it was more focused this time, and just one house away. Change approaches.
Last time, I never really saw the children. This time, they were all within reach. This time, they were larger. Are the children the symbol of potential? New challenges and dreams? Dreams develop.
I suppose some who have powerful associations with home, those who'd be devastated by the loss of place and things would find this dream troubling. All the destruction. Surely it's the sign that your subconscious is upset. Maybe you should reconsider.
Thing is, I remember no anxiety in my dream. Just lots of steps. Lots of bare land, waiting to be filled with plants and trees. Possibility. That is what my mind is acknowledging. I am clearing the landscape for possibility.
To celebrate reaching my savings goal, I made the first purely luxury purchase I've made in a long time. I got a 16GB Zune HD. Yes, I was taunted by my geek friends. Anyway, I wore it this morning as I walked Mollie. I listened to NPR as they interviewed astronauts at the sunset of the 30-year space shuttle program. While reporter Scott Simon thrilled during a trip on the astronaut's simulator, he asked Cmdr. Mark Kelly if he was going to miss the program and the Endeavor. His answer was so... so right:
It will be sad to "full stop" on the runway for the last time and watch the Endeavor get carted off to a museum. But it's important to do that, so we can move on and do other things. And we can't do both.
You can't hold onto a house and move forward. You can't make a fresh start with a sack full of belongings. Moving on to Better doesn't always mean letting go of the Bad. Sometimes, it includes letting go of Okay and Good and Doing Fine as well. What does your heart ask for? If you tell it to hush when it asks for Better, perhaps you should stop. It will find ways to keep asking until you listen. Maybe through recurring dreams. Just keep in mind that things and houses and jobs will disappear and transform. What remains are human connections and the love you feel for people who had an impact on your life. When you locate those people, you should never let them go. The rest is just matter and particles. It can be reconstructed.

--Laura

Mollie-riffic

In previous posts, I've mentioned my "special" dog, Mollie. She's a terrier mix - most people in the south would call her a bird dog, but I don't know how that description carries. However, she's a dog I'd describe as pretty high strung.

I assume the Dog Whisperer would have a field day with her and with how I have trained her, but over the years of our association, we've developed a strange way of coping with one another. For instance, she's highly anxious most of the time, and I describe her as a "Velcro" dog. In other words, wherever I am, she must also be. I've lost more fringed sofa pillows in the 20 minutes it takes me to close the bathroom door to her and wash Petey, her brother. She absolutely can't stand to know I am spending time with him and not with her. In addition to chewing up pillows, she has destroyed full trashcans, the stuffing inside pet beds, and squeeky toys, all out of anxiety.

In short, she's a minor disaster.

But this brings me to something else, actually. A confession. This year, I haven't kept up with the shots and pills and various items for my dogs. Whenever I walk into a vet's office, I can plan to spend $300, and this year I just haven't had it. True, I've had it and been paying down my debt, but I haven't had both. So this year, my dogs weren't up to date.

Well, during my last visit to my parent's house, my mother remarked at how skinny my dog looked. I too had noticed this, and had noticed how bony Petey felt in his haunches.

That's all it took for worry to set in. I think every day since then, I worried that Petey had heartworms and tape worms and Mollie had rabies. I'm serious. No, really, I'm serious. Those out of date tags jangling at the end of their collars were like an accusation to me. You are a redneck idiot who cannot even take care of your dogs. I have to tell you, I was saying *terrible* things to myself.

All that changed this week. Petey was resting on my tummy and Mollie didn't like it, so she jumped up to bully him off me and take over this coveted spot. Well, somehow in this transition, she cold cocked him in the eye which set him off and they had a snarling hissy fit right on top of my belly. When it was over, Petey had a bloody eye and Mollie was in the other room.

I was devastated. Now, not only does Petey have tape worms and heartworms and fleas, he's going to have to get his eyeball removed.

It was gross looking, it really was. And he milked it too. The next day I put food in his bowl and brought it to him at the foot of MY bed. Really.

The next day at lunch, I called the vet. I had a thousand in savings now, afterall, and my poor boy needed both his eyes. I got an appointment for 11am on Saturday.

So as it turns out, Petey doesn't have heartworm. Or tape worms. Or parvo. Or cancer. Or diabetes. He does have a second eyelid however, which all dogs have to protect the eye if it suffers trauma. Oh, and he's old. Old dogs start to get bony in the butt, right where Petey is.

The relief I felt was hard to describe. I mean, I'm glad he can still see, don't get me wrong. But he's also HEALTHY. His main problem in this world is that he's nearly 10. And I can't tell you how stressed out I was that I was neglecting him. And he was suffering as a result of it. And I'd let his care lapse so long that I'd actually caused him to become diseased. Not to mention but that I made it impossible for me to proudly take either of them anywhere. Without tags, I was even afraid to leave them for long periods out in the yard, for fear of animal control, or a wayward child who would approach them, get bitten, and then contract rabies.

And here I make fun of Mollie for being anxiety ridden. If there's anyone in the house who is Mollie-riffic, it's me. I felt so good when I drove home that I stopped to get a haircut too.

Next paycheck, I'll take Mollie in too. Might as well get a clean bill of health for the whole family.

Is there a lesson in this for me? Maybe the energy I spend worrying about things is worse than if I just jumped in with both feet and took care of them? Maybe I don't need to go Mollie-riffic over the giant to-do list I've written for myself this year. I just need to tackle each thing one bite at a time and stop creating this dark, sucking black hole of terror in my mind, which serves only to make me even less likely to tackle them. I might suffer setbacks, true. There might be times when I encounter a situation that's more complicated than the "whole lotta nothing" I dealt with in this case. But at least I will know exactly what I'm facing. What I imagine is usually a whole lot worse.

All that wisdom AND a haircut. Not a bad day.

Random Wednesday

In stark contrast to last week, this week has been without turmoil. My car passed emissions, work has been steady, and I've made more headway toward paying off my student loan ahead of schedule.

Plus, tomorrow is my birthday.

Birthdays for adults aren't the same as for kids, eagerly awaiting the excesses of toys and sugar and party games. I think for me, they serve as reminders, as a time for evaluation and assessment, and as a way to set milestones. For example, I spent one birthday with friends in a plaza in Madrid. This year, I will spend it with friends in a restaurant in Buckhead.

There is special significance to my birthday this year. I decided in the last few days to tailor my original statement about being in Colorado by 2009. I looked at my driver's license as I was driving home a few days ago and I realized that it will expire on my birthday next year. So I decided to be more specific. I decided that I will not renew this driver's license. My next license will be from Colorado, and I will celebrate my birthday there. It will take some time before I know if I will make my birthday with months to spare or if I will make it by the skin of my teeth. We'll just see.

I suppose it sounds sentimental to set a goal like that around your birthday. First, I'll tell you that I did it because I'm realistically on track to make it happen. Even after months, I am still on track to pay off debt #1 by January. Clearing debt #1 will free up reserves for debt #2.

I realize that clearing debt doesn't get me moved, but I've made progress there as well. I've spoken to someone who is buying homes in the area, not to fix up and sell, but to fix up and rent. It turns out that this economy has required many people to rent because they can't qualify for loans. It turns out, there are property managers out there who will take care of my property, and it turns out that I can afford them. As I was saying to my mother, heck, I'd love to have those people manage my property NOW. The point however, is that I'm no longer worried about the house. It will rent until it can be sold. I will put it in hands more capable than my own to maintain it, and I will move. The house will not hold me back.

Will I transfer with my company or get a new job? Well, hand me $150K and I'd buy a franchise in one lucky Colorado city, set up shop and live off ramen until the business began to prosper. Odds are, however, that not only will no one hand me $150K, but no business started right now to sell birdwatching supplies would prosper. But I realized one thing recently. I really don't need to wait for market conditions to begin my life. I can pinch pennies just as well in CO as I can in GA. How exactly will I do this? I don't know, today. All I know is that I will do it. With debt#1 and debt#2 gone, I will need a lot less to live on for a while, and that will help. A job will not hold me back.

So I refined my arrival date to "by October 2009" because I realistically believe I can manage it alone. But I'll tell you, I don't mind if the goal is a little sentimental too. I'm a sentimental person. As much as I like taking care of business with my head on straight, I also like being cared for. Because, the truth is, while I can do this alone, with discipline to pay off these debts and courage to put my house in the hands of a property manager, I don't want to do this next year alone. I'm sure I will need the patience and support and encouragement of those who love me, because there's something I believe is true: if those who love me will have some faith in me and invest in me this year, I will be richer than if I'd been handed $150K. And I sincerely believe that they will be too. By a longshot.

So on the eve of my birthday -- to all those who've been a gift and a blessing in my life this year -- I love you. Thank you for all the support you've given me. I hope I have done the same. Here's to another year.

- Laura

I Believe in Community

I got a great email from my dad's cousin yesterday. She said she was going through boxes, and had found lots of Burke papers - birth and marriage certificates, First Communion documents, stuff like that. She wanted to know if I'd like to have it.

Of course I did.

I returned her email with a chatty one of my own, and among other bits of news, I shared some of my latest goals with her. I find that expressing my goals has become easier these days. When my priest asked what had been going on for me lately, I told him as well. There's a calculated reason for this. I believe in community.

When I was younger, I used to have a negative opinion of community. I viewed them as oppressive and restrictive, viewed the people as nosy and judgmental. Certainly, some communities can be. But there's a subtle line there, and it's worth noting. When you let a community tell you who you are, they will control your life. But when you tell a community who you are, they will support you instead. And in fact, if you share with a community not only who you are, but who you want to be, whenever possible they will help you get there.

When you're a kid, that means the adults in the neighborhood will buy the worst tasting beverage imaginable from your lemonade stand and declare that it's fabulous. When you're an adult, that means they encourage you, tease you, quiz you, and hold your feet to the fire while you develop your plans. Their persistence can sometimes even substitute for your own, reminding you that your goals aren't all in your head.

In fact, just the other day when I confessed to a friend that my goals were big and scary, she did just what a community member does. She gently encouraged me to get over it, with these words: Dreams are no more scary than real life. If your dreams were unrealistic, you'd know it. But you know they aren't.

This may not seem connected to the memorabilia I mentioned earlier. I was reminded however of a piece of family history I already have. In these obituaries, you see people, recently deceased, being described by the loved ones they left behind. You can't help but wonder how you'd be described if someone were writing yours.

These family members had a loving community to miss them when they were gone, a community that knew who they were. So at my age, as I am reconnecting with who I am and who I always wanted to be, I acknowledge not only that I have dreams, but that I can nurture them into reality. I find that I want my community to know that the dreams are as much a part of me as the real bits they already know about. I'm not afraid of telling them in case I were to fail and embarrass myself. In fact, I'm not even afraid of falling or failing anymore, I'm just afraid of not trying. And I need them, along with my family, to remind and encourage me to keep trying.

That's how hard things get done. With help. And when you know that getting help will definitely make hard things easier, don't you want everyone to know?

--Laura

A Real Goal Getter: Part VI

I'll pause for a minute about what my goals are, to tell you a little story, because I had the most interesting experience at the pool the other day.

As I was finishing my swim, an old man entered the indoor pool area to take his own afternoon swim. He was East Indian, with clear, warm skin. Nevertheless, he was so wrinkled, I had the desire to iron him. I'd learn later that he was quite old.

We exchanged pleasantries, and I liked his gentle nature and his warm smile so much, I must have been grinning at him, because he continued to speak to me after he got into the pool. We discussed the Pool Closing Tragedy, the alternate Aquatic Center down the road, ways to get the best value for our gym membership dollar, and the advantages and disadvantages of paying for a full membership versus paying ala carte.

The tone of the conversation suddenly changed.

"I am 75-years-old," he said. "I came to this country with $45 in my pocket. But I was determined to get an education. Now I have a PhD." I congratulated him, but was a bit confused, because this seemed to have nothing to do with our previous conversation. But he continued.

"I've seen tragedy in my life. My child, my only son, worked for the government. He gave his life for his country at the American embassy in 1998, when he was only 37. I stood over his casket and I told him that for him, my son who was always so worried about my health, I was going to lose weight and quit smoking. Many people complain about quitting smoking and how it will make you gain weight, so I decided to do both at the same time. When I began, I weighed 250 lbs. I just got off the scales in the other room, and I weigh 181 lbs."

I congratulated him, and he thanked me. Then he said the most remarkable thing.

"So many people say they want to do big things, but immediately come up with excuses why they can't. If you want to drive to Chicago, you don't wander around Douglasville, get low on gas, then go back home. You go to mapquest, you plan your route, you plan where you will need to stop and sleep, and then you head out with a full tank of gas. It takes preparation and it takes a plan. The excuses are just things to look past. You cannot let them get in your way."

"People let obstacles and not goals guide them," I said, letting him know I was actively listening to him. In fact, I was enthralled that this man would be saying these things to me, a reformed slacker, a real goal getter. He smiled at me and nodded, satisfied that I understood him.

All the things he said to me wouldn't fit in this entry. It was funny though that the night before, in the bathroom of a nightclub, I paused from the entertaining evening I'd had with friends to look at myself in the mirror and speculate on the wisdom of all my recent plans and goals. Were they crazy? Was I crazy? Did my reach exceed my grasp? Was this all too hard? Would I ever be able to afford to make the changes I wanted to make?

Call me crazy, but I think the next day brought my answer, from a man who lost his 37-year-old son and his only child and in doing so learned a thing or two about goals. Only to share that lesson with a 37-year-old only child standing on the edge of a pool, who is learning a thing or two about setting goals herself.

--Laura

A Real Goal Getter: Part IV

So now I stand before the world (or the half dozen people who read this), a reformed slacker, a recalcitrant goal dodger, determined to change my ways.

Now what?

Your mileage may vary. I've spent time, as you've seen, looking back to a time when I had, I felt, clearer goals. And let me be clear. I'm not talking about regular goals - to lose weight or get the laundry done by the end of the day. It isn't even about living within a budget or replacing the carpet with hardwood flooring. Those things are tasks. They are chores. And I've managed to do each of those things at one point or another.

I'm speaking of goals like the ones you had in high school, like the ones you developed in college. These were the goals you used to chart your life. And I think finding them again is a bit harder than it sounds. How far back do I need to retrace my steps, for example? When I was young, I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I wanted to be a geologist. After that, an astronomer. In fact, my parents even got me a telescope during that phase, and I remember I was able to manipulate the lenses and mirrors well enough to view a lunar eclipse.

But the fact is, if I had to wait on the schooling I'd need to invest in those dreams again, I'd be further in debt and miserable in the struggle. I can keep those dreams alive as interests. But I can put them aside as goals.

There's writing, which is closer to my heart. Many people appreciate the writing I do. And recently I devoted some time and energy to complete a certificate course in technical writing, knowing that like any skill (as opposed to a talent), it could be mastered and used to my advantage.

But there's something I've realized as I've spent time on this goal getter search of mine. Since I've left college, some of my goals have changed. As an adult, my goals are not so much about what kind of job I want, not really. They are more about the kind of person I want to be. Because it's not that I want to be an archaeologist, or an astronomer, or even a journalist, but I want to be the person I think some of those titles represent.

I am curious about my surroundings, so I want to do something that supports that instead of discouraging it. I want to emulate the archaeologist in me who's not afraid of getting a little messy digging for treasure in the hidden places. I want to hold onto the astronomer in me who's interested in what lies beyond. I want to hold onto the journalist in me who asks the questions we all need answered.

And after all this digging, exploring and asking, I've determined something; I'm not living right.

More on that later...

--Laura

A Real Goal Getter: Part III

Continued from "A Real Goal Getter: Part II"

On Saturday I was running through the grocery store collecting stuff I needed for a party later that afternoon.

I first noticed him on the canned vegetables aisle. An elderly man, he steered a motorized chair, the ones provided by the grocery store. His face looked tired and red, as if each breath were a struggle. My reaction was to switch roll my cart down another lane and double back so I wouldn’t have to navigate around him.

I would encounter him later though, in the frozen foods section. And being trapped by his vehicle, I decided to feign a deep interest in whether I’d get frozen spinach or broccoli. And as he passed me, I realized that he was humming. The store music system was playing a really old Dionne Warwick song, “Reservations for Two,” and he was humming along like a paid backup singer.

Huh.

I spent the rest of my visit wondering why he’d feel moved to hum along with such a poignant duet. Did he have a lady love at home he wished to reconnect with? When he got back home, did he hug her a little tighter than usual, making her wonder just what had gotten into him?

Lately I’ve been doing a lot of goal setting. I know my plans will take time and discipline, but I believe that I’m being drawn in new directions and that ultimately a move is in my future. It is tempting during a transitional period to evaluate your current conditions and find them wanting, kind of a “sour grapes” game with yourself. I remember doing that in high school, when I determined that everything about the South was backwards and ridiculous and how happy I was to be getting out.

But I returned to the South after college, and I think in the years I’ve lived here I’ve made peace with what’s bad about it and what’s good. There’s more good than I realized. It didn’t need to change. I needed to change.

And now, as I am forging a new path which will probably lead me out of the South yet again, which will get me back to a place I never really wanted to leave, it’s kind of fun to pass a little old man in the grocery store, and know he was more than some nobody to avoid because he was in a big old awkward chair I didn’t want to navigate around. He was a man moved by an old love song, who seemed to have his own tender memories and who seemed to identify with some of those deeper emotions we all ascribe to. It made him interesting to me.

Maybe this time, when the time comes for me to leave the South again, I can take the good parts of it with me. I think in the midst of new resolutions about goal setting, it’s important to acknowledge that goals allow you to strive toward something, and not run away from something. When I left as a young woman, fresh out of high school, I was running away from all I thought was bad. This time, I think when I leave, I will hold onto all the things which make me strong and capable and healthy. I’m excited to learn how that will impact my plans.

I can’t help but believe it will shape things for the better.

But more on the actual goal setting later…

A Real Goal Getter: Part II

Continued from here:

So was being a reporter a worthwhile goal for me back in college? Probably, but it wasn’t one I was attached to strongly enough to tackle the obstacles.

People who know me say I am my own harshest critic, but as I evaluate the past, I think I’ve done this more than once, too easily letting obstacles determine my path, better known as the path of least resistance. It’s easy to do. Why not take the path where you can see further out, where the future is clearer? And then after doing it once, why not do it again? And so on and so forth, and in so doing, a life is shaped.

But here’s something to consider. Goals are a refection of your values and principles. People don’t set goals to be losers, they set them to achieve something they want. So if you stay focused on your goals, what you’re saying is that you see yourself. You see where you want to be, and you’re willing to invest in decisions that will get you there.

On the other hand, obstacles are the things getting in your way. They don’t reflect anything about you, they obscure goals. Does it make sense then that if you take the path of least resistance, guided by whichever way the obstacles guide you, that sooner or later, you lose all sight of yourself?

I think about it like this. Obstacles are challenges. When you overcome them, you grow and become stronger. If you avoid the obstacles, you skip lessons you need to learn. Goals remind you that there’s something out there larger than the immediate obstacle you’re facing. Goals help us get things done.

Here’s how it works. When you set a goal, let’s say you want to drop 30 pounds, the obstacles become navigable. What’s your obstacle? Maybe it’s your diet. So you do some reading, you educate yourself and make lifestyle changes to eliminate the obstacles.

Try approaching someone with, “I’m so unhappy I can barely breathe.” How would you respond if someone said that to you? Now try this. “I am unhappy with my weight and I would like to lose 30 pounds.” Well! Eureka, the advice starts to roll then, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you could list five things to change without even thinking about it.

So a goal gets things done because it creates a purpose. When you have purpose, often the resources needed to fulfill that purpose magically spring from nowhere. Only they aren’t coming from nowhere at all. They’re simply more obvious because you were looking at things a new way.

When I realized I’d need an advisor in the University of Colorado’s School of Journalism, I dodged that obstacle, thinking I was pretty clever. And today I read that the Atlanta Journal Constitution is cutting jobs by 8% because of the economy, so maybe I could content myself with the fact that I chose a profession doomed by the internet, and think myself clever still.

But the story made me consider this: had I graduated with a degree in Journalism, would I be in Atlanta, waiting to see if my job is affected? I don’t think so. The reason I don’t is because I know I didn’t thoughtfully evaluate my move to Atlanta based on its commute, its quality of life and whether or not I liked the climate. Simply put, I moved where my job transferred me. So after years of living here, is it any wonder that despite the friends I’ve made and the activities I participate in, I feel no particular affinity for this location?

So did I lose myself by allowing my obstacles to determine my path? I’m not sure I know the answer yet, but I’m working on it.

More on this later.

-Laura

A Real Goal Getter: Part I

We’ve all heard the saying that if you don’t know what you want, you won’t know when you get it.

Now there are those people who maintain an unconflicted existence where this is concerned. They always knew that they wanted. At six-years-old they found their passion and set themselves like a planet in its orbit onto their goal.

Then there’s me.

Maybe you can relate to my story, so I’ll share it with you. When I entered college, my goal was in journalism, ideally an investigative reporter or the more lofty title “foreign correspondent.” I felt I had the natural curiosity, creativity and sense of humor to be good at the job. I envisioned being a roving NPR reporter.

At least until my novel sold.

Somewhere along the line I got sidetracked. And I’ll tell you what happened, because it took me a while to put my thumb on it and maybe I can save you this mistake – the School of Journalism required an assigned advisor, and my issues with authority figures were so intense that I switched majors rather than submit. That’s a regret I’ve carried for a long time, that I resisted an authority figure put in place specifically for my benefit. But see, I was learning to navigate my own ship under my own steam and I was doing a pretty sloppy job of it. I didn’t want anyone to know that (like it was a big secret), nor did I appreciate what I viewed as scrutiny.

So yes, as time passes, there are definitely those days when I wish I could walk back to my college campus and say, “You know, I really didn’t explore my options while I was here. How’s about we start again, because now I know what I don’t know.”

When I think of how pretty my Colorado campus was, and how much time I wasted hiding incompetence I was supposed to possess at that age, I feel pretty silly. I guess everyone looks back with that observation.

More on that next time…

--Laura