12/7/10 Silent are the Sounds of the Sad

Do we hear the sounds that are our life

Are they happy sounds, loud and clear
or muffled and distant

Do we recognized them as our own
or are they difficult to distinguish from others

Are they angry and maddening
or soft and subtle

Are they melodic or mundane

Do they project
or are they a whisper

Are they constant
or do they skip a beat

would anyone else want to hear them
or
are they better left in isolation

11/2/10- Shake The Cake

I took Stella to Nelson Forest today.  That sounds so intriguing, a forest in Marshfield and it was spectacular.  Perfectly crisp and as I walked I was able to relfect on my previous day.  Sometimes I take myself so seriously and why?  Is there anything that should shroud my mood to the point of frustration and anger?  No!!!  I need to lighten up, accept what is my present situation and either affect change or move on.  Yes I am heavier than I would like to be but does it mean so much to me that I should hate myself every day. I can despise the excess that rolls over my midsection but it does not mean I need to hate everything and everyone that comes across my path, bumping them out of the way with the flab that acts as my rubberized repellant.  This extra baggage has it's advantages.  It keeps me warmer than my skinny counterparts. If I were to get lost in this forest I would have plenty to live off for a long, long time!  At times I can package it so tighly, that it actually looks like muscle and I can intimidate others with my power.  I am what I am. a slightly over weight, middle aged woman that tries her best to get some exercise everyday.  I can push myself harder than most when it comes to physicality, but put chocolate in my face and I melt into the butterball that I truly am. I've always loved sweets and I've always struggled with my weight.  There have been occassions when I've altered my ways and lost the cravings and the corpulent bounty that is my body, only to be bounced back to the penalty line.  Soon I find excess eeking back pound by pound.  This re-emergence of my prior self is a slow progression and I always think, what's a pound or two, I still look good.  I can still pull this off.  I'm still less than my most, better than my worst, and smaller than some, so a pound or two is really nothing and if I wanted to I could shake that off with a rigorous run or few extra sit ups.  I'm good, I still look good.  Just when I start feeling extra confident, and people start commenting (and they always seem to comment about how good you look after you regain a few pounds), the two pounds becomes three.  I'm still okay, after all, I'm still getting compliments so I guess they can't see the three pounds, but if it gets to be four or five pounds, then I'll be sure and get back on the treadmill, full tilt.  I can shake this off with one good day of healthy eating, no snacks and the weight will be gone and as soon as I say four or five pounds, they appear, as simple as that!!!  I do not feel the need to go pound by pound and explain the mind set. suffice it to say, it is more of the same aformentioned mentality that continues to surface just as the circumference of a new, more expansive body part spreads it's mess and invades my slendor space.  For me, this does not happen over night.  It is a slow incremental inching of about two and a half pounds per year.  No need for me to qualify that with the number of years, but let's just say, it's been a few, but far to many!!  I've spent the past, "few" years settling, but with unease.  I still think I can shake the cake habit and re-emerge as the ripped, slim, hotty I thought I was a "few" years back but today I realized this could be a full time job for me and I'm not sure I want to work full time.  Perhaps part time is much more my style and most definitely, my speed.  I'm not abbreviating my goal, I'm just lengthening my time, afterall, I do have a lot more girth to grind and I'll start full tilt, tomorrow!

Read it any way you like

When the wine is gone
so am I

10/15/2010 College Essay

As many of you know, Connor has arrived at his senior year of high school and is now deep in the dreads of applying to colleges.  His application awaits his "College Essay", the culmination of the process, the icing on the cake, or in Connors' case, the mag wheels on his car, ready to jettison him into a life of independence, study and the occasional party.  A life Connor has been ready for since he was four, when his inquisitive four year old mind asked me, "when I turn five, will I have a five head",  a priceless thought, as I told him to wash his forehead.  Of course he would expect his head to expand with his age, after all, he had spent the past five years soaking up every morsel of information he was told, why would it not continue to grow in unison with his age?  His ability to retain continues to stun me but he struggles to capture who Connor, the seventeen year old high school senior is, in an essay, where he is simply asked to write about himself.
 How many of us are comfortable, extolling our virtues, talking about ourselves and glorifying every character trait with semantic ease and grammatical grace?  How do we maintain the delicate balance between modesty and self eminence, gliding through adage with the same purpose and sincerity we approach every day with, explaining, who we are, why we are and what has shaped us into the unique individuals we are.

 Well Connor, if this will help,this is how I see it...

You are the calm before the storm, enchantingly mild and serene, willing to step aside for the whirlwinds of life, the anonymous donor, kind, thoughtful and generous with no regard for recognition. Intensely inquisitive, with an understated intelligence that appeals to all ages, examplified by your adept ability to contribute to conversations with the young and old, as well as your peers, always surprising someone with your vast expanse of knowledge.  Seldom is there a topic that eludes you.  You are the constant that drives on cruise control, steady, even and smooth and most importantly, endlessly loyal.  If I were to liken you to a car, you'd be a Toyota Corolla.  The immensely reliable, enduring model that gets you there with out the flair.  You are unaffected by display.  You accept, even the most difficult to accept, without question, striving to see the lesson behind the disappontment.  You understand more than most.  You are confident and realistic with a humility that resembles a silent partner.  You require very little but deserve more than you receive.  You trust and believe in yourself and the goodness of others.  You are sincere in your efforts even when given a difficult task. You endure the undesirable with little argument, accepting that life is not always, "Popponesset Beach", regardless of how much you wish it could be. You were a bold baby, commandering the Cape. You grew into a captivating child, earning the title "mayor" of the beach. Your pre-teen years brought out your silly side, surfacing a sense of humor examplified by your talent show performances of "Who's on First" and  "The Chicken Dance".  Throughout  your teens, you continued to grow and expand beyond  expectations and I can not recall a time when I felt tested, tried, tired or overwhelmed.  You made my job easy. You've gone from a gentle, good natured boy to an intelligent, kind, genuine young man.  You were the first born of two which means, you entered life as number one and that will never change -  Connor Ahl, the one and only!!

10/15/2010- Walking Up Hill

AHHHH!!! I can't believe it has been so long since I've last written.  So many things have breezed through my mind during the splendor that was this summer and fall, and yet I have not found time to sit and write.  Today is different.  I took Stella for a walk at two mile farm today and it brought me back to what I love.  The introspective outlook I gain there is astounding.  I forgot how much I love the beauty of the woods, the friends I have made there and the joy I see, in Stella's steps when we arrive.  There is little I can compare it to.  It is enlightening and invigorating at the same time.  It rekindled my creative fire that dulled during the summer's heat, but is now ready to burn a new bridge, so to speak.  On the agenda, college essays, high school reunions, taking stalk of my present state and moving forward to explore and embrace new territories where the old comforts are no longer readily accessible but always treasured.  Somtimes it is harder to walk up hill, than it is to run a flat course, but while the comfort of the perdictable and steady dissipate, the thrill of a different challenge that requires a strained variety of patience, perseverance, and power brings with it a new and higher level of accomplishment.  I start the journey, now, wish me strength!!

8/4/10 Losing "it"

Do you ever feel like, sometimes, you just don't have it, and by it I mean, whatever it is you need to have to succeed?  I just didn't have it today and I couldn't find it and after a time, I gave up trying to find it.  Yes, today I gave up, quit, handed someone else, what I started the day wanting.  It's a horrible feeling to know I didn't give my best effort today.  I didn't try to figure out what needed to be altered and as I sit here typing away, sweating in this umbearable humidity, drinking my glass of wine, I am pissed off at myself, disgusted with my disinterest, ambivalence and lack of drive.  Where has it gone???  I used to care deeply. I would work myself hard and intense and yet, my execution today was deplorable.  I had am attitude I am ashamed to say, that I just didn't care.  Those who don't care, don't succeed and I joined the ranks of that less than desirable group today.  Those who quit without trying are cowhards.  They are afraid to fail while trying,  afraid to face the fact that their best might be less than perfect, but by failing to try, I have given away a piece of myself that I can never get back. I gave away my self respect and for that I am sad.

8/3/10 Uninspired

As I sit here with my laptop on my lap and the lights in my face
I think...
Is this the best use of my time?
Could I be anymore sedentary?
Is this really what I want to do?
Does this make me feel accomplished, at anything?
Can't I do something more inviting ?
Why have I been so solemn lately?
Could it have anything to do with the direction, or lack thereof, that my life seems to have taken?
I've allowed myself to fall into this void of unending, mundane isolation
I waste my energy and thoughts on the unimportant, while there is an enormous mountain of purpose waiting for me and yet, I continue to avoid validating anything other than the ridiculously petty thoughts that keep me from activating my potential
I can be so much more significant in my existence and yet I choose to continue to be an insignificant nomad that wonders the depths on my own mind
Resulting, in yet another uninspired post in this blog

7/18/10 - A letter to Connor

Before you could speak, I sang lullabies to you, filling your mind with the serenity and peace, I wished would fill your days
When you were new to walking, I would bring you to the beach and do hand stands for you, to show you there is more than one way to walk.
As you began to explore the world, I introduced you to what I knew and remained open to your new adventures
As you began to understand, I challenged you with the unknown so you would continue to strive for more
As you began to interact with others, I encouraged respecting diversity, so you would learn to see the qualities each individual has to offer
As you began to express yourself, I listened closely, so you would learn the value of a good ear
As your judge of character developed, I trusted your choices, to show you the importance of making your own decisions
As you continued to learn, I invited a variety of mediums, in order for you to find what brings you pleasure
When you started to expand beyond my world, I instilled traditions that would remind you of your roots
As your future unfolds and you discover your mentors, I hope you've found your family, to offer, your first good examples
As you move on, I encourage making memories, that will forever, be well worth revisting

7/29/10 - Reality's Connundrum

choices - the choices we make are a direct reflection of who we are and what we value
preference -our preferences are what we would like to see, but are not always, fully realized
our reality is what is intended for us, regardless of what we prefer to choose

7/16/10 Hide & Peek

I was hiding...
not intentionally hiding, but tucked away
and when it became apparent that no one knew where I was
I did not speak up
So I guess I was more, "removed" than hiding
There was no fear of being found
I did not feel that anxious, excitement that you experience when you hide and don't want to be found
I was actually right there,
within earshot, but no one thought to look behind the predominanty shut door
it's hinge leaving it open ever so slighty,
enough to hear

Have you ever wondered what it's like when you're gone?
Have you ever thought about how things transpire when you are not there?
What people say and do when you are not around?
How your presence impacts and influences events?

I heard things
Things I did not like, harsh words. terse words, cruelty within earshot
and I did not move,
I did not stir to defend or speak up
I stayed where I was and thought...
I like the world better when I'm in it

6/30/10 Times Are Changing

The initial response to change..... fear of the unknown, resistance and pause
The second response to change.... anxiety, anticipation and enthusiasm
The ultimate benefit from change.... the growth that results from the progression

Grey Hare

At what point do I stop?  When is it time to come to grips with who I am?   When will I accept my shortcomings, my lack of initiative and drive to "appear" a certain way?   When will I have the strength to let nature run it's course without feeling as though I need to present a false facade?  I am a mature adult who no longer needs the mirrors' reflection to portray something I wish I was.  I've spent the better part of my life wishing for a thinner body, better teeth and vibrant hair.  What I've lost in my pursuit for superficial splendor is the person I am. 
I am proud of my ability to run down tennis balls on a singles court.  I like the fact that I spend more time thinking, than I do watching.  I love the fact that my favorite book is a thesaurus!  I am deeply affected by that which affects others, so much so, that I often can't sleep until I process my feelings through words.  The color of my hair should not represent anything more than what it is.  Yes, my hair has develpoed a grey aura, but it merely means I've aged, as we all do.  The ritualistic coloring of my hair, does not make me any younger.  It actually ages me more.  It has become one more appointment I need to maintain and with increasing regularity.  It has begun to impinge on my free time, giving me less time for "me" and more time requiring me to become something I am not. 
I'd much rather spend more time running on a tennis court than having my hair colored, so from now on...I'm happy to be a grey hare!

04/13/2010

6/11/10 It is time

I found out something today
Something I wish I didn't know
but I needed to know
Something that does not sit well
Something that is senseless and sad
like so much of life

Something that forces me to think
of purpose, initiative, productivity and value
of the people I know and what drives each of us
of what it will be like
for so many of us
when things are different, strained, altered and ultimately
gone

what will it be like...

A presence that will soon be gone
a presence that affects me only, slighty
but enormously at the same time
A casual aquiantance that makes me smile
despite the battle she faces every day
a person seen infrequently,
but those random visits, however brief
linger interminably
Terminal and interminable
so similar in sound, yet
extreme opposites in meaning

It is the finality of the terminal
that brings me interminable inspiration



I was once told to write a letter
to someone who has had an impact on me
and send it to them
this someone, has no idea how profoundly she has stirred me
and it is time to write that letter

I'm back

I've been away for quite a while but many things have occupied my mind these past two months.  I have come to realize that the young are plagued with adult pressures, adults face death on a daily basis, tennis has saved two lives that I know of, and the impact one person can have on a population is never realized until that person is gone. 

An eighth grade student is hospitalized after her blood pressure drops to a dangerously low level.  The culprit...anorexia.  How does a 13 year old develop such a horrendously paralyzing disease?  Is the pre-teen population so jaded that they can push a slighty overweight child to the brink of death with condescending comments that linger in a young girls mind and leave her with no alternative but starvation?  These children have given her an insecurity that may take her life.  She struggles with this illness daily, having to make intermitten stops at guidance so they can observe her eating. The entire school knows of her affliction and can not possibly comprehend, what it is like, to intentionally harm yourself until you are on the brink of death and still not realize you are out of control.  Ironically, control is the one thing she thinks she has!   If this is her life at thirteen, what will she know as a teenager or young adult?

Adults face death on a daily basis and become hardened to it's hold on life.  I have seen so many people who battle their own looming death with ferocity and vigilance.  This is their monthly, weekly, daily routine and they have lived it for so long they do not know any differently.  For those that love and care for them, it is a battle that can not be fought by anyone else but the victim, yet they feel the weight and pain of the ordeal as though they were enduring it themselves.  Their helplessness is their affliction and they,  like their loved one, can do nothing to alter the course of the illness.  They proceed with caution and apprehension, until the ordeal becomes such a routine part of their lives, that onlookers can not comprehend how they can maintain such balance and appreciation, when faced with such overwhelming difficulty.

A year and a half ago, tennis saved my life and once again, this year, I was a first hand witness to tennis saving a friends life.  A year and a half ago, it was my tennis friends that talked me into going to the doctors for my abdominal pain.  What would have happened had I not been playing tennis is unknown, but I do know it was my drive to get back on the court that forced my hand into a doctor's visit that uncovered my ovarian cancer.  The silent cancer that so often goes unnoticed until it is too far gone.  I thank God I went to the doctors when I did!  Just one month ago, at tennis practice, a teammate experienced some unusual symtoms while at practice.  In a matter of minutes, she went from serving a tennis ball to nearly collapsing on the court.  Luckily, teammates noticed something unusual and her partner caught her before she collapsed.  The severity of her condition worsened dramatically. EMTs were called and they quickly took her to the hospital.  Her screams of head pain as she left still resonate in my mind.  She had an aneurysm on the court during our team practice.  We all thank God she was with us when it happened as we have all come to find out only 20% of the people who suffer aneurysms survive.  She was so fortunate to be with us when it happened.  Had she been alone, she probably would have died.

A fellow co-worker passed away last week and left an entire gym feeling his abscence.  He was a facility worker with downs syndrome.  He was the mayor of the club, always there with a smile and a sly grin.  I'll never forget one of the first times I met him, he was working with a personal trainer to get his health under control.  He would ask all of us at the front desk to get him a donut or a cookie or candy, and then if his trainer saw him, he'd say it was ours.  It was a daily ritual for him to stop at the front desk and chat with us.  Always calling us gorgeous or sweety. He shocked us when he went on a date and told us how he "made out" on the deck after dinner!!!  Members and workers were all touched by Jack.  He loved life, people and having fun.  He brightened so many lives with his pleasant demeanor and personable ways.  He welcomed anyone with the same enthusiasm and joy.  He truly loved life and the people he met living his life the only way he knew how, with an open heart  and an innocent humor that could brigten even the darkest day.  He is gravely missed by more people than he will ever know and his persona made the "Y" a better experience for all of us who knew him.
 
One can only hope to leave the same kind of indelible, optimism and joy behind for those we have touched with our arms out-stretched, our eyes sincere and our hearts our open, offering.

April 8th a Phonetic Alliterative

Of late, I have been consumed with thoughts of my own aging, what I can no longer control and I wonder, when I will cease to fight what nature wants. Interestingly enough, today's alliterative date, brought me back to a poem I wrote a few years ago after visiting my mother-in-law at a nursing home.  The title, "No Nursing Home Nirvana- An Aging Alliteration", how do you like that?  While my own struggle with my aging has nothing to do with this poem, I still thought it worth the time to post, given the timely coincidence of the date and my current interest in letting nature take it's course, so here it is:

Sometimes sense and semblance seem shrouded in a shawl

buried beneath burdens bringing forth some bitter brawls

When will we welcome wisdom's winching ways

leading, luring, leaving us it's languid, lonely leis

Dream no more depression, drowns the doubtful dame

fearing families forgotten and friends forsaken fame

Instant independence, idles in thine eyes

Crumbled convalescence, crushes courageous cries

Elderly ignite, egregious ignorance

hoping home can harbor this horrid hindrance

Mostly morose memories muster minds malaise

oddly old and opulent often ostracize

Kindling kisses kindness, known only now and then

aging able animus, adorn us all again

Greeting gaunt and ghostly grandma, gather gurney side

together to travail, the tender, turning tide

Reasoning resembles resurrection run amiss

Yesterday yanked yonder yielding, yearning youthfulness

No one knows nirvana as nature's noble knight

Please preserve her pride, pursuant to this plight

unsettling unhappiness - unconsciously unhand

unwittingly undertaken

unable to understand

I remember, the horror of the entire experience left me emotionally exhausted.  I am so thankful I had the fortitude to write my feelings down at the time.  This is a place, in my mind, I never want to go back to.  Probably my darkest poem to date.  It is about the agonizing deterioration of an aging parent compounded by the horribly impersonal, inadequate care this particular nursing home lent.

Now this makes my aging woes, child's play.

Orange Emotions 3/22/10

As we sat at dinner, Kerrin asked, "So you wore orange today"...
A simple question, a bit unusual and so I asked "Why orange"
I could feel the emotive heat eminating from his person,
the uneasiness with what needed to be said
the tension built and then the struggled, broken response..."favorite color"
for the first time in many years, he filled up and cried
the intensity of the hurt, visible, passionate and impactful
we all stopped looking at him and looked at our plates
silence,
but for the weeping he could not control
his sadness was contagious
I too, felt my own emotional temperature gage rise
before I knew it, a tear was invading my dinner plate
a quick glance to see if anyone else noticed
and I saw we were all affected
the words were captive in our throats
balled up and stifling any consolation we could express
as he wept, we grieved with him
nothing could be offered but our universal solemnity
so young to have to experience the passing of a classmate and friend
inexplicable,
he was a good kid with a common disease
complications, coma and then
a single color is worn to show support and hope
for a life that would cease simultaneously,
as the school beemed in orange

Kerrin's Poem- A Rainy Nights Walk

a rainy night can cure anything but security

my breath slid across my face as if it was a cloud covering the last of the light

the patches of trees gave me safety in every step I took

I was holding a leash attached to a timid, and horrified puppy

As the leash was pulled to the direction of my house I let out a sigh of relief

No one was happier than I was

My hair whipped me as if I was in a chase scene in a horror movie

The occassional drips of rain hit the dead grass like bells ringing in a church

The drips left me paranoid to every sound I heard

approaching my house I saw the most beautiful sight of all...

the house lamp post made the dew drop, smothered grass glisten, like the stars above

I look forward to my night walk with Stella every chance I get

3/12/10 I Cried Today

 As the conversation came to a close, I could feel the lump growing, the heat rushing to my face, and then I cried, like an over stimulated child. It was the culmination of a week of varied emotions, stemming from a life of distorted priorities and mindless minutia.  I cried out of sadness.  Sadness that my sister will now be living five hours away by plane.  For so long she has lived a short drive away and yet, I spent so very little time with her.  What was keeping me from committing more of myself to my family?  Why do I constantly have this internal conversation with myself, reprimanding myself for having the wrong priorities and yet I continue to make the same negligent choices. Her last words to me were, "look after everyone here", something  I should not need to be told and yet the words needed to be said. I am frustrated with my inability to learn from experience.  The redudancy of mistakes is enough to drown an elephant and yet, the elephant continues to surface. Frustration adds to the tears I shed in an attempt to drown the elephant once more. I continue to be ignorant of what should command my attention, of what is needed to satisfy and bring reward.  My life is a jumble of scattered seconds, mundane minutes, and unheralded hours that leave me with worthless weeks of time. My responsibility record is negligible while my selfishness is the elephant that dominates my world.

  While I'm crying, I cry out of worry for sick family members, my aging parents and what my life will hold for me when I am an empty nester.  I cry out of fear that I will not be able to live up to expectations, deal with difficult situations or handle loneliness.  I cry out of empathy for the unfortunate, weak and elderly.  I cry for my past youth, health and missed opportunities.  I cry for those I don't find time for and realize just how much I'm missing.  I cry for what I have no control over and what I wish I could change but realize I can't.  I cry for the unfairness of life, the harshness of  loss and the forthcoming heartaches and battles, slated for those I love. I cry out of disappointement in myself and the disappointment my children have only just begun to experience. 
 When I think I am done crying......I cry out of relief and appreciation, that I am fortunate enough to have so much to care about and then.......I smile.

3/8/10 Awe-struck

As I meander down the cliff-side expanse, I anticipate an awakening of the senses
The scenery is breathtaking here, the smell of ocean air emanates from the rocks and trails
I'm told this is the path to take, the rewards are abundant
What I experience is...fixating
I am captivated, encapsulated
I am engrossed and absorbed by the surroundings
The earth encroaches on my path
A trickle of sound and sand
The tapping of pebble on pebble increases ever so slightly
Soon, I am  hearing a rush of sound that intrigues and entices me to stop and digest
The cliff-side comes into view
at first slowly then...
it is before me and I can not move
taunting me with it's close proximity,
As the earth falls, I am consumed with a sense of inevitable suffocation
It's harsh jagged edges slide closer and closer, tormenting me
tearing my skin as it severs my drive
Impairing my progress as I struggle on
battered, stumbling, staggering
Impeded by that which drew me in and courted me
the very thing I yearned for is also my affliction
My broken remains, buried amidst the cool brown earth and hard cold stones
Awe-struck in the worst way

Stretching

Okay, anyone who has had a physical injury, by default, has learned the importance of stretching. It alleviate's the tension that builds up in the muscles during intense workouts. The more a muscle is worked the tighter and more compact it becomes. Stretching elongates the muscles and allows respite.
Similarly, when we exercise our brains and we delve further into a topic, tension builds and our minds expand.
Failure to adhere to the importance of stretching either type of muscle, leaves us stiff in stature and rigid in thought.

2/23/10 A Line is Drawn

The impact of a line drawn in the sand
far exceeds it's visual physicality
It matters not, whether it is drawn softly or harshly
what appears to be easily erasable
leaves an indelible mark that long withstands the currents' force
Even as the shore appears to be smooth
remnants remain

2/13/10 - 2/14/10 - Plain Truth

I have always been a rather unremarkable person, very simple in my appearance, not particularly athletic, and utterly ordinary in my existence.  I have maintained the national averages in most regards.  My endeavors have kept me within the boundaries of typical.  I have not ventured far on the map of adventure nor have I extended my global limits.  I am currently working a part-time job at a gym and I have come to realize that what I can do, is be exceptional at being ordinary. 

Working the front desk at a family gym, that is relatively inexpensive gives me a window into average America.  While the gym does have it's smattering of "celebrity" members, these are very few.  What I have come to notice is,  that it takes all kinds, to make humanity.  I am on a first name basis with the most diverse collection of people I could ever imagine.  I have grown to apprecaite eveything this job brings me. 
Here is some of what I've learned:

I used to see the elderly as sad, lonely people.  Now I see them as kind, experienced souls that are happy with a smile and a brief conversation.  They have worlds of experiences to share and I am lucky enough to be the recipient of some of their life lessons. 

I used to envy the young and fit and now I see, they are filling their social voids with empty gym time that continues to leave them alone and unhappy.

Many of the families that come to the gym merely see it, as their escape from the kids.  A way to fill time they don't know how to fill on their own.  We are there to serve them and we should know what they want and how they want it.  They exude an air of entitlement that transfers down to their children.  When their offspring become old enough to be on their own (and for many that is the ripe old age of ...8), they also walk the halls as though we are their servants, demanding this or that and expecting immediate service.  They pay for nothing and are appalled when asked to wait.....for anything.

There are the truly physically disabled that inspire me every day.  The cross they bear would be crushing to most, yet they soldier on, not knowing how else to conduct themselves.  They are happy with the simplest of accomplishments and rarely discouraged with their lot in life.  They work, even when they are pedaling backwards, because in their minds, at least they are pedaling.

There are those recovering... from an illness, injury, or the travesties of life.  They need the gym to return, maintain or improve their health and that is how they view it.  It is their tool to get them to where they want to be and they'll  do whatever is necessary to get them there.

I can not forget the youth, that have no idea that 10-15-20 years down the road, what they are doing now, will no longer be what defines them, nor will it be as easy as it currently is.  The skills, time and fitness they currently possess, will soon elude them to a life of aging, commitments, demands and obligations, they could never imagine would take priority.

There are the middle aged who use their age as an excuse for being inadequate while they grapple with remnants of their prior selves.  They are not yet ready to concede to the realities of their stage in life, so they struggle to be what they once were, or what they once aspired to be, unable to accept that they have passed their "prime" and need to accept their "medial" stage in life. 

I can not forget those that use the gym as their social life.  Of these, there are two types;  the first are the desperately lonely that will carry on a conversation with anyone that glances their way.  Once in their snare it is a long slow process of removal from the situation.  A polite escape is impossible, abrupt and quick action is the only alternative.  They grasp onto anyone, with a longing sadness similar to a widowed swan aching for it's life long mate.  The front desk staff are often a captive audience that has no option but to patiently listen and wait for interruption.  The other type are the silently sad.  One sincere look into there eyes and you can see their souls weeping for companionship yet they would never burden others with their affliction.  They wait and hope to find someone to fill the void but are not particularly proactive in their efforts.  These are the hardest people to watch.   Few people will take on the daunting task of befriending an unfulfilled, painfully shy person.

Finally, there are the "regulars".  All of whom have an addiction to their routine.  Whether it is for their own benefit or not, they are the committed, dedicated constants that are the backbone of the gym.  They are athletes that travel the world in search of the next race.  They are the parents, proudly supporting their children in physical prowess.  They are the adults and youth perfecting their sport, fitness or strength.  Some are onions with incredible stories and depth, while others are average people conducting themselves in simple pleasure, enjoying the most basic moments.  They are content with the present and take each day as it comes. 

Perhaps this is where I come in.  I have come to see how truly average I have been throughout my life and I am content with that.  I have done, no more and no less than expected.  I have been able to smile and laugh daily, whether it was at myself or at a situation.  I am a happy soul who brings happiness to those around me.  I try to enjoy every moment I can.  I experience life events with all the passion I can stir within myself.  I am a truly empathetic and kind person who tries to find the good in others regardless of their glaring flaws. 

We are all born with intentional skills and purpose.  It is each person's goal to discover their gift and share it.  My gift...

A simple smile - kindness - a sympathetic ear

of ordinary stature - but a heart that's meant to share

                            

2/11/10 Why I Write

I write
... to express
... to be heard
... to inspire
... to provoke thought
Each pass of my pen is
... an offering
... a challenge
... an idea
... an original
Each composition is
... a reflection
... an indication
... a struggle
... a goal
Each composition I pen is a tangible, reflective offering of expression.
It is my hope that, at some point, somewhere, each passage resonates and invokes, inspiring, challenging, thought provoking, ideas and goals. 
If I can speak to each reader and give them something they need at the time of their reading, then my time has been well spent and my mind has been well churned.

2/10/10 Remembering Queenie

It's funny, I've been driving my kids to school every morning for the past six years and never once took notice of the cars in the parking lot, but now that my oldest has his license, that's all I look at.  I can't help but glance over at the high school student lot, after I drop my daughter off at middle school.  I'm always quick to pick out Connor's car, it's so distinct.  A red Jeep Wrangler with black doors.  The tire on the rear door proudly proclaiming, "Life is Good" and it certainly is.  So many students have cars now, lots of pickup trucks, sedans, family hand me downs and even a mini van.  I smile when I pass Connor's car because it reminds me of my first car.  The car I drove to school when I was in high school and picked up as many friends as I could possibly fit.  The car that was the envy of many and still comes up in conversation often.  My car was perhaps the coolest, most recognized car in the high school lot.  A gold Pontiac Firebird with mag wheels, a wide black stripe down the middle and a wing on the back.  Stepping into the car was like getting into a low slung beach chair.  The seats practically kissed the pavement.  The long nose made me feel like a race car driver, staring down it's stripe, as if I were on course to break all kinds of speed barriers.  Back then, everyone did not have a car.  I was fortunate enough to have four older siblings and so, I inherited my oldest brother, Frank's car.  He was eight years older than me and as such, had long since moved on from the Firebird.  Both of my older sisters, Karen & Eileen,  had a stint with Queenie; as a matter of fact, they were the ones to name the car.  I believe they named the car after my Aunt Theresa's car, an antique, black, something or other, whose only similarity with the Firebird was that it was old.
.
I was the last of the Casal's to have Queenie.  I drove her every day I could, junior and senior year.  I remember jamming half the tennis team into the car and driving them home, the back of the car was so low, it was actually scraping the ground, ahhh...what a ride!!!   I can still see the look on friends faces when they had to tell me someone hit my car in the lot. The school was a buzz with this terrible news. I was so horrified, I left the school to check on Queenie, (something I could have gotten in a lot of trouble for). She was fine, a specimen of strength and resilience, either that, or the hit was merely a tap that got grossly exaggerated.  Never the less, it was the talk of the school for the entire day.  Queenie was cherished by many, not just her owner.  She would live to continue her escort service for many more days. 

As one can imagine, as she aged, there were days she would need some work and my mother would let me drive her Pontiac, Grand Prix.  The Grand Prix was considerably newer and nicer, but I longed for the Firebird.  While others knew how lucky I was to have either a super cool sports car or a new Grand Prix to drive, I was not as aware of my fortitude.  When I went away to college at Green Mountain, in Vermont, my parents would not allow me to take Queenie, for fear she would break down in the mountainous, winding landscape of western Mass or Vermont.  I was so disappointed.  I resented having to take the Grand Prix.  Friends would write and tell me they saw my five foot tall mother, tooling around in my sports car and only the vision of that would make me smile.  I'm sure she hated driving the Firebird as much as I hated driving the Grand Prix.  After my first year away at school, it became apparent that Queenie's time was up.  As we prepared to sell her, I can still remember feeling as though I would never again own a car that would achieve the acclaim, Queenie did.  This venerate vehicle made her mark amongst the class of 1980 WNHS students.  She was a landmark in the lot and a timepiece in my life.

2/7/10 Discovery Island

I am an island of thought

Contained in isolation

Currents rush and recede

 As waves deposit and erase

Dependent on the tide's force

Brimming with beauty

Awash with treasures

Awaiting discovery

2/1/10 enlightened obscurity

There are times in everyone's  life when circumstances alter one's path
We may be forced to travel unfamiliar territory
We may need to tackle unforeseen obstacles that demand a clearance we've never conquered before
The process of progression may be difficult, challenging and at times undesirable
But the newly acquired skills and resources attained in the process are the hidden oasis we've had within, but never realized, until we were forced to enlighten the obscurity

1/29/10 observations

Pompous people who glorify their grandeur only end up alienating themselves
If they would stop and look around 
they would see the distance growing with each self aggrandizement
but of course, 
they are too self absorbed to notice the only audience they have is themselves

1/28/10 Driver's Seat

Today my oldest child got his driver's license and it hit me hard.  He's growing up and becoming more independent.  I can't help but reflect on the many milestones he has passed.  The same accomplishments every parent wills their child to master; speech, walking, reading, some of the more significant, but each parent's life is peppered with proud moments that stir mixed emotions of joy and sorrow in the same sweep.
How do we allow them to grow but keep them young?

I can still recall his first bus ride to kindergarten and how much I wanted it for him and yet, I cried. As the bus pulled away, I was left with an indelible vision of his profile in the window as the bus moved on.  Would he turn and look for me or had he already forgotten I was there?

This conflict of wanting him to venture and experience life, but wanting to maintain my importance to him, continues to be a struggle.  As another landmark is passed and he launches into new territory, I am less his Sherpa and more the excess"baggage" he no longer needs.  This is a milestone for him, that he 's been anticipating since he was five.  Today, once again, I was left with the lasting impression of his profile in the window of a moving vehicle, much like his first bus ride in kindergarten, only, when he was five he turned to look at me... this time there was no turning back. 

He's on his way and he's in the driver's seat.

1/27/10 revelation

If you're too busy looking forward,

you miss the present

and your future suffers the consequences.

1/26/10 sleeping giant

Have you ever gone through a spot of time when you are truly, just plain irritable? You say and do things that surprise even you. You know this isn't the way you typically interact and yet, you can't stop yourself. All this mean spirited, angry verbiage comes spewing out and even as you say the words, you know you should stop, but you can't??? Man, am I having an awful time ridding myself of this, "hair across my ass" disposition. I hate the way I am behaving, I am embarrassed by my own actions. I can not shake this negative attitude. I know I am so lucky to have all the good fortune I've been given. I wonder if the things I think I am doing for my health are actually the reasons for my change in attitude. Can it be that something that should be good for me is really quite the opposite? Am I not capable of sorting through my emotions in a mature manor and presenting myself in a thoughtful and respectable way. Am I really just a spoiled adult who never learned how to handle confrontational challenges. Can I possibly go back to the way I was before I started acting like a raving imbecile? I've woken the sleeping giant and now he's an insomniac!!! What will it take to pacify him?

The process of writing usually tranquilizes my moods and helps me work through difficulties but that doesn't seem to be the case right now. So, I guess I need to give myself permission to be unhappy. Allow myself to be imperfect and wrong at times. Give myself the "green light" to be green with envy. Accept that I can be cranky and agitated and while it may make me less approachable or enjoyable, it also makes me human.

1/25/10 - Gas Gauge

An emotionally charged disposition can be the fuel that generates a driven response;
it can also be the deterrent that stalls one's progress.
Learning how to inject one's passion into each maneuver without flooding the engine is the trick to attaining a smooth ride.
Gun the gas and it may backfire!

1/23/10 thoughts

As my family and I drove up the highway today, we saw a hawk flying alongside the highway, just a few feet off the ground and a few feet away from the traffic and it got me thinking about life from a different perspective. Was the hawk feeling challenged by the cars as they sped past? It almost appeared as though he was racing the car next to him. He glanced to his left and seemed to narrow his body trying to make himself more aerodynamic. It was really quite odd as he pierced the air and seemed to be focused on an ultimate goal. This minor observation, got me thinking about goals in general and how all of us approach them differently. Some of us procrastinate and take our time getting there, while others hastily speed through with little regard for what it means to go from one point to another. Our focus is on the end and we miss all the sights along the way. The ideal balance would be, when we take our time getting there, savor the process and ultimately appreciate the finale. This allows us to truly absorb the variety. We see things for their respective diversity and accept all that makes everything unique. If we savor the process we learn to work at various levels of intensity. We gain an understanding of how to gauge how much is needed and when it is necessary to push ourselves or pull back and re-assess. The goal, in turn merely brings us to a temporary resting place where we adjust to a new level of competency and then look toward further perseverance. A perpetual rotation that allows for constant reward and challenge within each revolution.

A Very Simple Pen

If I can write words, on a very simple page
and these words can prompt reaction and emotion - set the stage
If you can give me paper and a very simple pen
I have found poetry, to be my closest friend
It is with me in the night, when I find I can not sleep
when my thoughts and concerns and my worries will not keep
It sees me through the times when my mind is a mess
I organize my feelings and with paper I confess
and though I may not show it when you see me passing by
with the ink in my pen, many tears I do cry
If only with my paper and my simple pen in hand
I could solve the problems of this very troubled land
If pen could bring peace I would cover the world with ink
and if poetry brought kindness - all in rhyme I would think

2/19/09 writing - revised

With the good- the bad- and the ugly
Comes the balance of mediocrity
Never settle for anything

less

Sometimes it doesn't get any better than average