Irony Is The Spice Of Life

I wrote this post weeks ago and I forgot to post it. The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be. So, here it is a day later and a dollar short.

In my last post, I told you I was challenging myself to take a risk every day. I planned doing a watercolor of the saguaro + the ocotillo growing in my backyard for Risk No. 2. It came out well enough that I decided to use if for my weekly Cactus Monday post on my other blog, for Risk No. 3.

Please don't think the reason for this post is to collect accolades for myself.

David McMahon of authorblog nominated it for Post of The Day, defying my expectations.

What a hoot!

I explained in my last post that the ocotillo + saguaro reminded me of my sister. My sisters and I were traumatized as children by all of our numerous relatives who insisted on kissing us on the lips and hugging us incessantly the entire time we were growing up. To this day, the two of us feel uncomfortable with hugging and kissing, even each other.

The Cacti-pus painting is a metaphor for our fear of hugging. And then that led me to attempt to write a Shakespearean sonnet.

The purpose for my posting about this is so that you can see how my taking a risk led to an unexpected, yet welcome surprise, which otherwise might not have been realized.

I'm posting a smaller image here so that you don't have to go to the post to see it (click to embiggen).

Cacti-Pus Monday

"Ocotillo Ursula"

I'll leave you with a quote for slow-blog-day Sunday:

"I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I'm not afraid of falling into my inkpot."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Now, back to writing the meme on things that make me happy.

Inspiration

"I'm inspired...and I'm a bean counter."

Shadow is a gifted poet who had an inspiring post on her "1 door away from heaven" blog yesterday. Click here to read her poem, "Time." The second stanza challenged me to not be afraid to take a risk every day. What a scary thought... But it was an "Aha!" moment for me. I decided to go for it and keep a journal about it. Now, down to the business of deciding the first risk I'm willing to take.

Another gifted poet is Fireblossom, of the Word Garden blog. I apprehensively decided to take the risk of sending her an email describing my thoughts about a Shakespearean sonnet. I took a deep breath before I hit "send" because I was afraid she would think I'm a quacker. She wrote back saying it was one of her favorites and shared her thoughts. Well, roll me in chocolate and call me sweetie! You mean there are peeps out there, with whom I can share my feelings about poetry, who won't think I am a pickled beet? What an amazing concept. I wrote Fireblossom back and asked her if she would like to do the same for an allegorical poem, and she said "Yes." There is no way I would have taken risk No. 1, if it had not been for Shadow's inspirational prompt in her poem.

It seems that taking one risk, can lead to another. I excitedly thought about what Risk No. 2 could be. I have been thinking that I would like to try watercolor painting. Why not? I have zillions of photos I've taken this spring - one in particular comes to mind. It is a saguaro and an ocotillo growing side-by-side. When I look at it, I think they look like sisters. The problem is an unsightly background. My idea is to create a watercolor based on the photo, minus all of the unwanted noise. Although I risk failing miserably, I'm going to give it a spirited go.

Meanwhile, Sunny, my middle son, found a camcorder on his college campus that he wanted to keep badly. That's right on par with finding a money clip with cash in it, in my mind's eye. Sunny turned it into the campus police. The cop said, "Nobody would turn this in. This owner is going to think it's gone forever." Sunny's girlfriend, Sarah, said she would have done the same thing. Sunny's friend, Willy, said he would have done the same thing for a different reason. Willy said that every time he used it, he would have felt guilty. Later, Willy teased Sunny and said he should have sold it on E-Bay. Sunny told me he was setting a moral trend for his life - riding the high horse.

Now that's inspiring.

Language of Silence

While celling honey,
He dreams of Polynesia:
A new beginning.

As a kid I wanted to be a hair stylist, flight attendant, or nurse. Reality set in because I was allergic to chemical dyes, afraid of heights, and fainted at the sight of blood. You think I'm making this up? By the fourth grade I decided I would be an artist because I won first place in a contest at the Cranbrook Institute of Arts in Michigan. I had created a 4' X 3' mosaic of life beneath the sea. It was awesome. When I was in high school I worked as a darkroom assistant for a newspaper photographer. It was a riot. I loved every minute of it. Somewhere along the line I got sidetracked. I had taken one typing class in high school and somehow I parlayed it into a 25-year career.

Then I found out quite by accident, that I'm really good at analyzing and tearing things apart, probably from years of proofreading and editing. So I stumbled into the auditing field. No one grows up saying, "Mommy, I want to be an auditor someday." It is a field only the very anal and obsessive compulsive stumble into. I've heard this from all of the other auditors I know. I enjoy some things about my second career, like you see fast results, you don't have to supervise anyone else, and you work independently. Recently I had a choice between the unemployment line and a job as the tax man. I took the latter as the lesser of the two evils. Maybe I didn't think things through?

I start my new job in one week and I am already plotting my escape. Telling people they owe the government thousands of dollars doesn't sound like a good time to me. That's why I've decided to go back to school for an MBA. It'll take two years and keep me very busy - but I am hoping it will be worth it. One of my passions is teaching, and with an MBA maybe I can teach at a community college or a business school. I'm looking at two years of hard labor on the rock but I can do it. I have to keep on blogging too because of the encouragement I give and receive. I need it.

I posted once about trying to connect with my inner silence. I think I'm starting to do that but it's happening in a very unique way. I find myself finding my silence in nature. The haiku I wrote for this post is what I imagined the bee might be thinking if he found himself in a similar position as me. What would he think? What would he do? I watched Mr. Bee climb out of the center part of the rose onto the outside petal. His wings were flapping so fast I could barely see them. I found my silence in nature that day and was able to come to resolution for my situation. What is your language of silence?

By the way, do we like the normal size letters as in this post, or do we prefer the larger print?

Rosie the Riviter goes to Washington

Our spiritual sister, Rosie the Riveter, was the perfect iconic symbol our nation needed as it headed into World War II. No one is sure whether there was a real Rosie or not. The Rosie of the Department of Defense poster represented a female aircraft worker during the war who riveted thousands of rivets on Avenger bombers.

Prior to Pearl Harbor there were few women working outside the home. An estimated 18 million women worked in defense industries and support services by 1945, working as ship builders, machinists, welders, painters, riviters, pipefitters, police officers and nurses.

During the same time, 1.2 million blacks from the South migrated north and west for industrial defense jobs.

It was a time of incredible social change, survival and victory in spite of what the nation endured. The groundwork was laid then, when the war ended, for the civil rights and the women's rights movements, which slowly advanced across the nation in years to come.

Richmond is host of the Rosie the Riveter Memorial located at the Marina Bay harbor. There is a plaque at the memorial which reads:

"You must tell your children, putting all modesty aside, that without us, without women, there would have been no spring in 1945."

Enter Michelle Obama.

Now "Miche" Obama is being touted as the new iconic woman the nation needs to rein in a new world order. Women are being asked to show pride for a woman who reportedly is changing what it means to be a First lady (planting a vegetable garden and buying gifts for prime minister's children from the White House gift shop). Apparently she is the epitome of what a female should be: smart, svelt with toned biceps, and a superhero incognito. Women are being rallied, by the likes of Oprah, to show our support for her powerful message of equality. We should be celebrating our collective achievement of equality rather than being rallied to make it our most urgent cause. Equality is relevant; however, there are more urgent issues. Bangladesh is sinking, children are dying of Aids all over the globe, we are fighting two wars, our economy is in the toilet, the poles are melting, drug czars are taking over our U.S Mexico border, we have an energy crisis, and Russia and China are talking about creating a new currency.

Does anyone else see irony in this scenerio?

One final thought: Was it not equality that got her hubby elected to the White House?

What in the world does this have to do with dream weaving a life I can be proud of? The answer is that I must keep my head on straight and prioritize appropriately if I'm going to live a life of substance. I know first-hand that in 1975 I could not be seen at a night club with a black man, whether or not our relationship was platonic or romantic, but would be asked to leave. The law prevents this discrimination today. We have evolved with the exception of some radical extremists and, in my world, that is worth celebrating.

'Cuz I'm The Tax Man'

The above picture shows my interpretation of the job description of a tax man. For every two cows they find you have, they take one cow and give it to Uncle Sam, so that he can give your cow to someone else.

As some of you may know, I recently found out that my job in the auditing field was slated for elimination due to budget cuts. I got the call yesterday telling me that my transfer into revenue recovery was approved. Revenue recovery, by the way, is what the tax man's line of work is officially called probably because "bloodletting" wouldn't be politically correct.

To this point I have gotten by without having to succumb to working as a tax man, which I consider an abhorrent waste of flesh. I think Mark Twain expressed my sentiment exactly:

"The only difference between a tax man and a taxidermist is that the taxidermist leaves the skin." -- Mark Twain

If someone had told me 20 years ago that I would end up a tax man, I would have disagreed insisting that it didn't meet my criteria for gainful employment; that it not be (1) illegal, (2) immoral, or (3) disgusting. I would have told them that I would rather live under a bridge with trolls, eat out of garbage cans, and end up dying from heat stroke. I guess the idealism of youth has been replaced by cold hard reality; times are tough, and a girl's gotta make a living, right? Or maybe I'm not thinking things through? What about dream weaving a life that I can be proud of?

At any rate, welcome, Susan, to the machine.

Chocolate hope ala coworker

After visiting Lilly at her Lilly’s Life blog today, and after reading her post entitled “Put some boom into the doom and gloom,” I feel compelled to share this post. Lilly writes about a friend named Gail, who is an ex-Nun who is physically challenged and who has a very unique philosophy of life. She aspires to make people feel important no matter what their station in life. Imagine what a difference that could make in all of our worlds if her philosophy were to catch on.

Two days ago, I found out that my job position is slated for the death gallows on June 30, 2009. I walked obliviously into my usual weekly one-on-one with the boss like an innocent cow to the slaughter, not knowing what he was about to tell me. Afterwards, my coworkers huddled together and whispered as coworkers often do when something of this nature takes place. Before leaving for the day I calmly told everyone within earshot, which was virtually all of us, “You all don’t have to act like my job is not being chopped. I can hear everyone whispering and it would be better if you would all talk to me.” With that, I left for the day.

I came in the next day and one of my coworkers came into my office when no one was around and gave me a pep talk and assured me that the municipality I work for will surely find me another position. Then she hugged me for what seemed to be 10 minutes. Although I basically equate a hug with a fate worse than death, I endured it, and actually appreciated the sentiment.

Then there was “Kim” who sneakily bought me some dark chocolate and almonds from See’s Candy which is known to sell the very best chocolate in Phoenix. She did not stop there; later in the day she came into my office and I merely commented that it was bad luck that my final report edit was being published today since I had not been able to concentrate and do my very best work since the news of my pending lay-off. She cheerfully offered to do a final read-through for me. I looked at her in disbelief because I believe this was the kindest and most thoughtful offer I have ever gotten from someone in the work place.

The first thing that went through my mind was to say no and thank her. But when your job is on the line, and you really don’t want something to go public knowing it is not your best work, I did what I needed to do, and that was, to say yes. She found the mistake that would have been a great embarrassment to me. I had left out the word “of” in the following sentence: “Some ___ the results are listed in Table 1.” I have never been so grateful to anyone in my career. I was so relieved and so appreciative of her kindness. Here was a coworker who for some reason decided to show some compassion towards me and in the process saved me literally from career disaster. All she did was smile and tell me that we are a team and we watch out for each other. You bet I’ll be looking for ways to watch out for her!

I plan to meditate on this philosophy of trying to make a difference in someone’s day and possibly their life. I think it’s worth the effort and the results. I feel like I learned a valuable life lesson and wish to share it with you.

Finding silence

Trying to get in touch with my inner silence is very challenging and quite honestly it's not working at all. I find myself sitting with the five minute timer on and I'm having to drag my thoughts back to silence. I think about everything including my shopping list; I can't seem to turn off the noise in my head. I am the kind of person who needs a prop; I am a very visual person who needs a stimulus even for turning off my motor.

I have a blog pal, soulbrush, who loves mandalas. In truth I never considered the value or purpose of a mandala until I met soulbrush on the web. With me it's pouts that grab my interest. I think pouts can be very beautiful; one only has to look at someone like Angelina Jolie or Mona Lisa for proof of that. Because I love pouts so much I find myself looking at every photograph, every statue, every cloud, and I see pouts. I know another person who sees hearts everywhere; in foot prints, in trees, even in food.

Do you have something you see all of the time in the ordinary?

Since finding out that soulbrush loves mandalas, I see mandalas all over the place. This felt like serendipity to me and it led me to research mandalas and I was so intrigued that I decided to share it here.

Upon reading further I found out that mandalas are used in rituals such as meditation. Now we're getting somewhere. This led me to research how mandalas are used in meditation since that is the ritual I am interested in because I am hoping it might help me find a way to get in touch with my inner silence.

I have seen lots of our churches with round stained glass windows called "rose windows" that always grabbed my attention, and now I think of mandalas when I see them. A very famous rose window was created by Henri Matisse, the great French modernist painter, for the Union Church of Pocantico Hills, New York, shown in the photograph above.

I began hoping that somehow this will help me in my dream weaving.

Then while wandering through a bookstore this past Sunday evening I saw a mandala kit called Serenity with Mandalas. It comes with 25 pre-printed mandalas and a set of colored pencils and it cost only $10. I decided to buy it thinking that I like to color anyway and it might reduce my stress at the least. Although I cannot recommend the kit due to the fact that I had to press way too hard to get any color out of the colored pencils, I did experience some satisfaction with choosing which colors to use and the focus it took to complete the entire mandala. I plan to buy some fine tip colored markers to use with my 24 remaining mandalas rather than using the colored pencils.

The mandala kit came with a booklet with really good information explaining all about mandalas and I am sharing it here.

Source: Serenity with Mandalas by Adrienne Burke

The mandala is an ancient religious symbol found in many cultures. It is usually a complex, circular design, divided into four or eight parts. The design leads the eye around the circle, allowing the viewer to discover new areas, and it eventually draws the eye to the center.

Mandalas are said to have originated thousands of years ago, before the time of Christ. Some even say there were mandalas before civilization began. Early mandalas can be found in cave drawings and rock inscriptions created by our ancestors, as a reflection of spiritual energy.

The mandala is round: a circle is the best thing to describe it, I think, but from my reading a mandala does not have to be a circle. The word itself comes from the root word manda, which means essence. The suffix la can mean container. If we put the two meanings together we can come to the conclusion that mandalas are sources of, or containers of, spiritual or divine power.

Mandalas traditionally have been used in concentration and meditation practice. The individual first creates the design of the mandala, which can incorporate pictures of deities and story lines, as well as various shapes, symbols, and colors. Through this process the mind becomes so focused that it turns off its normal chatter. The individual begins to merge the mind to the process, thus training it to be still. The conscious mind uses words to categorize and define our experiences. The unconscious mind deals in images and symbols, which give us various perceptions.

Mandalas are a powerful tool for meditation because the mind creates its strongest associations through imagery. The majority of the people in the world are visual in nature. They need to see something to relate to it. If you say or think of a flower, a person, or an event, an image will immediately arise in your mind. A mandala is intensely visual, energized with color and enlivened with design. Once pictured and absorbed into the mind, changes in your mental state occur to influence your emotions. Your perception is enhanced and a heightened state of awareness and insight can surface. What you feel is directly related to your state of being. The creation of a mandala helps to bring out the complexity of what is happening inside. The meditation enables you to perceive more clearly and helps you approach the ups and downs of daily life.