Joy in the Journey

Ever spent a week or more traveling with your kids over summer vacation? Amid the many, “Are we there yet?” “I have to go” and “When are we going to be home?” conversations of travel it is no wonder so many parents feel they need a vacation to recover from their family vacation. I recall summer trips to an amusement park with my family. Mom would plan well in advance and sew matching outfits for each of us. Her theory was that it would be easier to keep track of her large brood if we all looked. alike. I don’t ever recall getting separated from them so she may have been on to something…however,
The need for conformity sometimes overshadows the joy that is found in experiencing the journey. There is that sense of security in submission to conformity. Yet, handing over the control of life choices comes at the price of independent thinking. Every action has a reaction all part of the orchestrated plan to reach a defined goal. If you–or I, agree 100% with that desired outcome then all is good and well.
It’s easy to be part of the cultural norm, to follow blindly as sheep are apt to do. Have you ever wondered why humanity in God’s word is compared to sheep? It’s because sheep are dumb followers. Without someone to follow sheep will wander off a cliff. For years I identified with the collective group of sheep. Believing if I did the right things, dressed the right way, etc. it would be pleasing to God. Finding myself thrust outside that fold was devastating. It wasn’t long before I found someone to follow. I was back (or should I say baaa.) inside a fold of a different kind.
Several decades later and I find myself alone. Sadly my life choices fail to meet the standards of some “folds”. My expectations of the fold mentality have somewhat diminished. The journey is all I have. Those who travel on my same path and getting from point A to point B in my travels is up to me–choosing to enjoy as much as possible of each day of this journey. That continues to be my hope for the coming year. Travel well.

Free to be Me

My journey had landed me in Texas at the home of yet another friend. Having taken roughly two days to catch up on my sleep following the marathon of packing, flying and arranging of schedules—I was ready to face the new day. I woke rested and refreshed to an empty house. My hosts had apparently gotten their boys off to school and perhaps thinking I needed more rest had left for the day.

Taking advantage of the quiet environment I decided to answer some of the many emails that had accumulated while I had been traveling. Booting up my trusty rusty laptop I was dismayed to find I had no internet connection. After doing all the routine things to determine if it was operator error, computer glitch or something else, I surmised that for some unknown reason the wi-fi connection had failed. Now what should to do with my day?

Fortunately my resourcefulness was not limited to one friend in the area. I arranged to use the wi-fi connection at another friend’s home, packed up my computer and grabbed a few things in preparation of an afternoon away. Walking out toward the street I made an unfortunate discovery—I was locked in. The property was secured with a heavy metal gate at the entrance to the driveway. The gate held fast with a padlock for which I had no key. Uttering a few choice words directed at the absent friend responsible for my incarceration I began looking for an alternate means of egress. Finding none I had to wonder at my imprisonment—was it an oversight or had it been intentional? The  front door had been left open…what reason could there have been for locking the gate?

Thankfully I had not locked the outside door to the house—an act I would later rethink. Retrieving a stepladder, and positioning it as close as possible to the fence, I mounted my escape. Standing on the stepladder I raised my leg up and over balancing on a small bench positioned on the other side. Repeating the process with the other leg I had the urge to giggle as I wondered at what the neighbors were thinking. My humor was short lived I winced in pain at the splinters embedded in my hands from the aforementioned gate.

By the time my friend arrived I was spouting some colorful terminology directed at the gate and not just describing it as green. Now all I had to do to complete my escape was climb into the truck—easier said than done. The only thing more embarrassing than climbing IN to the second seat of the pick up truck was getting OUT of said truck. The whole incident became hysterically funny by the running commentary of my friend’s father-in-law, who felt obliged to offer instructions on how to accommodate my rather top heavy stature into the tight space. Amid laughter and great pains to maneuver first my bottom half and then my, much discussed, upper body I was finally free.

Looking back over the events of that day and what followed I find myself thinking of all the things that confine us. I woke that morning free of pain—a respite from the fibromyalgia that has kept me bound by pain. My computer could not adequately perform its duties without the use of the internet revealed I’m tied to technology. Discovering the locked gate called attention to the physical barriers that imprison and hold us captive. The tight space of the truck’s interior confined and limited my movement. I became restricted by space.

Then there are those forms of bondage borne out of fear. The locked gate that hindered my departure earlier in the day prevented me from entering later that evening. My decision to leave the door unlocked caused such undue anxiety to my hosts that they refused to allow me back in their home. Their concern over a would be intruder that hypothetically managed to traverse the locked gate, successfully avoid 3 dogs and enter their home unbidden obviously outweighed any concern they had for my well being. I can’t imagine living so weighed down by paranoia and fear.

Their reaction was so out of proportion it could only be borne of fear. They not only refused to allow me back into their home that night, they felt it necessary to remove all traces that I had even been in their home. The next morning I found my personal belongings had been put outside the gate with the trash. How sad it must be to live in such bondage. Fear binds, confines and boxes us in—freedom restores and liberates us to enjoy life without fear.

My friends, don’t live in bondage—whether mental bondage due to a lack of confidence, emotional bondage borne of approval seeking, the societal bondage to be accepted or peer pressures to conform. Be who you were created to be—love freely, live fully and enjoy the journey.

Have We Learned?

After seeing “The Butler” last night I was transported back to my childhood. I grew up in a house with Archie Bunker. For those too young or disinterested to have watched the sitcom, All in the Family, let me explain. Archie was a middle-aged white male whose bigotry knew no bounds—he hated every race and religion equally and women had little value beyond procreation and keeping house. That was my dad. How I managed to mature without becoming a bigot is a mystery. Perhaps it was the desire to rebel—regardless I have never really looked at race the way he did.

My current situation has me assisting with the care of a friend’s aging parents. My friends parents are an interracial couple and married for nearly 55 years gives them—and me by default a different perspective on the topic of race. Also living in close vicinity of the Zimmerman/Martin case has caused me to ponder just what have we learned?

It fascinates me to realize the same year I was born it was illegal for a Black man to marry a White woman in many states. My housemates had to travel a considerable distance in order to legally wed.

Within my lifetime our nation set the precedence for the rights not only for Blacks and other minorities but Women’s rights not only in this country but to a certain degree on a more global scale. I pose the question then…What have we learned and at what cost?

Equality does not mean superiority.

Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed of the day when his children would be considered equal. It was not his dream that any one race be superior over another. His message lived on, it cost him his life…he was 39.

Sometimes being equal is a step backwards.

When parents complained that their teen boys had to pay a higher car insurance premium than girls of the same age—Companies responded by raising the rate of female drivers to meet that of their male counterparts. Too many devote far too much time, talent and energy to elevating themselves in one area only to devalue themselves in another.

Just because it is law does not guarantee compliance.

There are still bigots today—only now they can communicate quicker and more easily than before. Many believe there are a greater percentage of “haters” now than ever before.

Change can happen but not without effort.

There is a growing sentiment if it doesn’t affect you personally then don’t get involved. That ‘head in the sand attitude’ benefits no one. Our freedom in this country was a hard fought battle. It cost the lives of untold numbers.

We should not judge everyone by the actions of a few.

Saw this first hand in the countless hours of court coverage in the Zimmerman case. The aftermath following the decision had many wondering if the Watts riots would be repeated.

Hatred knows no racial boundary.

It is not a battle between black and white. It is a struggle between those who feel they are entitled and privileged and those they deem inferior. It crosses race, religion, socioeconomic strata and ethnicities. Sad when those were the very diversities our forefathers gave their lives for to protect.

So what have we learned in the past half-century? More importantly what will the next 50 bring? A friend was asked to compose a song using words from Dr King’s many speeches. His lyrics haunting and true have been running through my mind ever since watching the movie last night.

“We are no greater than the least.

We are no stronger than the weakest.

We create the chains or lose the bonds.

Together we grow strong divided we’ll surely fall.

So let us stand together to make our nation strong.”

Maggie’s Musings

Hello Followers,

Just wanted to share my most recent adventure on the ‘outside.’ You see for some time I have wanted to see what was happening out there. Every time I spied an opening one of the humans would block my path so while everyone was looking at the tall dark one I took a chance and made a run for it.

It was so great being outside. First I went looking for that lizard who has been taunting me outside the window every day. Yeah, you should have seen his bubble expand when he saw ME OUTSIDE! Needless to say he won’t be bothering anyone any more. After settling matters with lizard boy I went exploring. It is amazing how many different smells there is out there. After sniffing around the front I sniffed the trashcans—yuck no cat in their right mind would go near that. Makes me rethink the planned raid on the one inside. Then I checked out the garden in the back—the tall dark one is always out here in the yard. I don’t know what that stuff growing out there is but I had really hoped to find some catnip. I heard a rumor that there was some quality stuff growing behind the shed so I decided to check it out. The strangest thing happened after I chewed on a little. I could have sworn I could fly. It was really weird—my tail kept waving at me and you know I couldn’t wave back. I tried! I even chased it around the house a few times but no luck. The squirrels must have thought I had lost my mind. Finally I gave up and found a comfy spot to take a nap.  

I woke up and was starving! It was then I realized I had no way to get back inside and to my food and water dish. I found some water in an empty flower pot but could really go for some Kibbles. Just about the time I was beginning to panic I spied the cute human that usually has the little ones with her. Boy was I happy to see her. I really needed to use the littler box—can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been to have an accident out there? The squirrels would have never let me forget it. Running to the front door I tried to show off my new super power—but for some reason I couldn’t fly anymore.

Back inside I made a dash for the littler box. Then I gobbled up all the remaining food in my bowl while my owner scolded me for going outside…I don’t know what the fuss was about I came right back. Well, just to be safe I’ll steer clear of the door for a while. Wishing now I had snagged some more of that plant behind the shed to have later. Until next time,

Maggie

Tattoos tell Tales

As I travel on my journey of discovery I recently acquired a tattoo. It is a small butterfly in flight across my right shoulder. While waiting in the tat parlor I had opportunity to listen to bits and pieces of conversation around me. People discussed the significance of their chosen design with the artist who would permanently ink their anatomy with symbols, numbers or art.

One was a child’s name, rejoicing in her birth, another was a memorial to a friend no longer present in body—but not forgotten. My artist had a large volume of ink—most related to his profession. He also had an odd circle of tats around his neck…each was a tiny shoe. When asked their significance he grimaced…they were an impulse tattoo and rather embarrassing. He further said he didn’t have them removed because they serve as a reminder that ink is considered permanent.

We all should live our lives with confidence that the imprint we make can and will have lasting effects. We must make wise choices in tattoos and in other life choices that prove to be memorable.

Yes, the needles are sharp. Yes, you will bleed. Yes, it hurts…depending on where one is inked does change the pain level—or so I am told. My decision to have my shoulder inked was a good start—the pain and bleeding was minimal. Not that I have plans for another one…yet….oh well, maybe one more.

My shoulder needs protecting from sunlight, excess drying, and infection. The colors are muted but will be at the brightest in about 2 weeks…I am excited. What will my tat tell about me? Will it say I am free? The outstretched wings of my little bit of ink would speak volumes of the steps I have taken toward that end. Will people look at this artwork on my body and judge me as one who has gone over to “the dark side”? I don’t care—it is a part of who I am. Will it be regretted? I can’t imagine it will—to me it represents so many positive and different things. I will forever have a tie to my 2 beautiful daughters who joined the ranks of the inked earlier. My rediscovery of life is celebrated in this little bit of body art. Vanity…? I don’t think of it as vanity but as a daily reminder of how close I came to the edge. I will fondly remember the friend who shared the experience with me. Even as I sat being prepared with the antiseptic my friend reminded me of the pain, the risks, the permanence and the message…making sure this is what I wanted—then supported my decision. That is one definition of a true friend—they stand by you no matter what you ask, and they tell you not necessarily what you want to hear but what you need to know. I have many friends to thank for their help along this journey—as the travels continue I wonder at what will be next.