My perception can change my reality

There is no reality, there is only perception. 

I know I've blogged on this before, but perhaps because I'm such a thinker and my mind resides in the world of facts, I need to ponder this again.  There is a philosophical thought experiment that asks the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"  Every first-year student of philosophy will ponder this question.  We could go around and around debating the question with the principles of sound and the vibrations of air molecules bumping into one another and how this is a fact and it cannot be disputed.  Then someone else would counter with the anatomy of the human ear and it's ability to be stimulated by the bumping molecules and have those vibrations captured by the ear drum and stimulate the auditory nerves connecting to the brain.  The facts of how sound is captured are indisputable.  But are they?  If there are no ears can there be sound?  We could go around and around.

I perceive a tone of anger in my father's voice as he speaks to me on the phone.  Is it a reality?  Is it anger at me?  Maybe he is frustrated with my mother and her habit of repeating the same story over and over again or forgetting what she did 15 minutes ago.  Maybe he is scared at the thought of having all four of his children and their children and even a child of one of their children's children coming to visit at the same time.   (count 'em, 4 children + 4 spouses + 7 grandchildren + 1 grandchild-in-law + 1 great grandchild.  Yikes)  Then again, maybe he is talking loud and it's not anger and it has more to do with his hearing loss than emotion.  Or, there is the possibility it is anger and he woke up on the side of the bed that made him feel like having a fight that morning to get the juices flowing in his 83 year old body.  When all these possibilities (and I could probably come up with more) are considered, the possibility of my father actually being angry with me seems pretty egotistical.  Seriously, what makes me think it's all about me?

It's all perception, there is no reality.  If I perceive the situation as pleasant and beautiful, so it is.  If I perceive myself as being the least important of all in attendance, so it is.  If I perceive peace and love, so it is.  In the bible, Paul reminds us in Romans 12:3, "For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned."  Three things jump out at me from this verse.  The first is that I am not to think of myself too highly.  I am a person, just like everyone else.  The second is that I am to think with sober judgment.  Sober.  Not too many cocktails after dinner.  Not too many beers on the boat.  Sober.  And, third, I have been given the grace to do these things already.  I have the holy spirit inside of me.  I just need to get myself out of the way (for one week) and just be a person of no importance.  I am dying to know if I can do this. 

I read a facebook status from a woman grieving the loss of her child, allegedly at the hands of her husband.  She wrote about people telling her to withdraw from the public.  Telling her that people will try to hurt her.  There are mean people out there that just want to make her suffer further.  Her reply was that of surprise.  She said she must be from another planet because she expects people to open their doors to her and her other children.  She expects people to comfort her and give her rest and a place to stay and be with her daughters.  She said, this world of meanness isn't her world.  She is from a different world.  She realizes she is here, in this dry, cold world, but longs to return to the lush greenness of the planet she used to reside.

My goal, next week, is to be from the planet of goodness and kindness and expect hope for the same in return.  

401.  Observing a woman with faith so strong, it cannot be denied

402.  Shaking off the stress and fear

403.  Moving forward in faith and hope

404.  Taking a step to the right to change my perspective and (with grace) change my perception, therefore, changing my reality 

Linking with Em at Imperfect Prose on Thursdays.

A glimpse into retirement

Today I got a peek into my future.  I took the day off of work.  I call this a mental health day.  If I hadn't taken today off, I may, very well, have quit today.  Between the anticipation of a trip to visit my parents that has turned into a full-fledged family reunion and the extra work passed to me because of the retirement of a coworker, I started to feel a lot of stress.  If it was just the work or just the anticipation of the trip, I would be ok, but the combination of the two was giving me chest pains.  This makes me feel weak.  I'm not going to get into the details of either of the issues, but the trip isn't just a trip (I like to call a trip to visit family a "working" vacation) and the extra work isn't just more work (can you say more responsibility with no authority?).  I'm home from work and I'm not physically ill or going to a doctor appointment.  What I am doing is getting an opportunity to see what my newly retired husband does as a retired guy.

It looks awesome.  If today is an example of what retirement is like, SIGN ME UP!

Today I watched my husband sleep until 9 a.m.  Then he got up and shaved and brushed his teeth and made an espresso and turned on CNBC.  Good morning.  Today was considered a working day for him.  He's watching Apple and looking for a $3 pop today to sell a call and make some money.  So far Apple is is up $0.08, so no trade yet.  Fingers crossed.

Then lunch.  He had leftovers.  I think he ate the leftovers because he knows it makes me very very happy for my men to eat the leftovers from dinners I make for them after working all day long.  I makes me kind of mad to toss out the leftovers from dinners made by my exhausted hands.  Anyway, it made me happy to see him eat the leftovers.

Then, he told me I needed to do something with the lamb I have thawing in the refrigerator.  I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be tasked to cook at 12:15 p.m.  Yeah, it was awesome.  I hope he wasn't hoping he could have dinner by 5 p.m.  I mean, I know he's retired, but we're not doing that early-bird dining thing just yet.

Next, I went up to the bedroom to turn the tv on to something other than CNBC and possibly take a nap (no dice on the nap).  A few minutes later, he came up to his office to work on his dissertation paper.  (the never ending dissertation...)  He popped his head in the door to ask me to turn the tv down (I think it was tuned to RHOOC, so I totally get the distraction.  those women bitch and whine like nobody's business).  I tuned the tv back to CNBC.  I guess I like watching (read listening) to this more than I thought I would.  Still watching to see what Apple is up to (down $1.57 bummer).

The plan, for me, is to make dinner and that is all.  My husband has a meeting to attend tonight, so I'll try to have dinner ready by 6 p.m. to allow him to leave on time.  This is going to be the extent of my activities for the day.  I completely get how lazy I am.  I'm surprising myself by writing a blog post.  I was thinking this may even be too much effort for me to expend today.  I'm still having waves of panic run through my body, but they aren't as severe as they were this weekend.  I hate the sick feeling I get in my stomach when I'm under stress.  That small knot of fear balled up in my stomach causing stomach acid to pour in to try to dissolve it.  Since there is nothing actually in my tummy, the acid just burns, burns, burns.  Ah, stress...

Husband just informed me he is going downstairs to run on the treadmill for an hour.  He is awesome.  He has such discipline.  He loves to run on the treadmill and watch CNBC.  I, on the other hand, am happy to sit in bed and type my blog.  I'm considering taking a few minutes to read more of my book.  I'm currently reading compendium one of The Walking Dead graphic novels.  LOVE IT.  I'm halfway through.  I know, I know I said I would exercise, but... I'm sick today.  (cough, cough)  Let's see how Apple is doing... (up $0.22, c'mon AAPL)

I had the opportunity to check my email and found a gem.  The International Space Station will be in the view of many US states.  The ISS is incredible to watch as it goes across the night sky. It is brighter than anything else, save the Moon, and really moves quickly.  This website gives you the times and coordinates for whatever location you want.  I found the viewing time and duration for my area.  It's tonight at 8:57 p.m. and be available for viewing for 2 minutes.  It will approach the viewing sky at 43 degrees above ESE and depart the viewing sky at 12 degrees above SE.  I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm going to the sighting help information on the website.

I was happy to have my glimpse into retirement today.  I learned a few things.  One thing I learned is that there is nothing on tv worth watching during the day.  Another is that reading tweets is considered news.  Seriously?  Reading tweets is news?  What is the world coming to?  On the positive side I learned that I'm going to LOVE retirement.  I cannot wait.  (just in case my boss ever reads my blog, I CANNOT wait, just sayin') 

396.  Paid sick days
397.  Prayer
398.  Tums
399.  More prayer
400.  A pretty day in June and time to enjoy it

FYI, APPL is up $0.23.  It doesn't look like we're going to get the $3 pop.  (not every day is a winning day)

I can't make someone happy

I can't, because, just like Abraham Lincoln (not the vampire hunter) once said, "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be."

I can't because, just like (probably) Ben Franklin once said, "The Constitution only guarantees the American people the right to pursue happiness.  You have to catch it yourself."

I can't because, just like Doystoevsky once said, "Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys.  If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it."

I can't because, just like Euripides once said, "No one is happy all his life long."

I can't because, just like Ben Franklin once said, "Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it. There is nothing in its nature to produce happiness. The more a man has, the more he wants. Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one."

I can't because, just like someone once said, "Being happy doesn't mean everything is perfect. It means you have decided to look beyond the imperfections."

I'm so far from perfect.  You can see most of my flaws just by looking at me.  If you know me a little better, you will see more of my flaws.  If you are my father, you can see every single one of my flaws.  I'm sorry, I'm so far from perfect.

390.  Every day is a new day with endless possibilities
391.  I am more than my mistakes
392.  I am lovable, just the way I am
393.  Sometimes intentions matter more than actions
394.  I have a perfect father who loves me, completely, in heaven
395.  I know the right words for every conversation.  All I have to do is use them ("You could be right.")  

Justifying bad art

I've written about bad art before.  I don't like bad art.  I couldn't imagine there could be a justification for bad art.  I was wrong.

The beauty in calling yourself an artist is this, even a bad artist can call themselves an artist.  Seriously.  You don't have to be able to make a living at it.  You don't have to have your work approved by anyone, but yourself.  If you believe you are an artist, you can call yourself an artist, for no other reason than you want to.  Producing art isn't like, for example, juggling.  I mean, if you want to call yourself a juggler, it may help if you can actually keep some balls in the air.  :)  (You can do ANYTHING) 

There is a relatively recent phenomenon out in the world of art.  It is a thing called an Artist's Statement.  Of late, this statement has become a necessary component of an artist's portfolio or promotional package, because...?  Your art cannot speak for itself?  This is especially important if you produce bad art.  If your art looks as if it were produced by your children, you must write an artist statement.  This is crucial.  Don't worry, when writing your artist statement you can use words that are so vague they can make it sound like what you produce is art, without having to actually say it is art.  After all, you don't want to be called a liar AND an artist.

Like this artist's statement,"Her works are found in private collections and some of the most famous museums in nations throughout the world."  If it's true, don't hesitate to be specific.

If you say you have been dabbling, dipping, and dunking in the visual arts since your mom bought you a set of watercolors when you were three years old and your art has been mistaken for your child's artwork, this may not be the best sentence to have in your Artist's Statement.  If you want to describe your art as using brilliant colors with dark overtones that nature provided in your youth, please don't insinuate you do so because you grew up in coal mining country and you see everything through an inch of coal dust.  Be honest, tell people you can't find the light.  If you say you are a multi-media artist, in pastel, colored pencil, photography, acrylic, acting, singing, dancing, and the written word, be able to prove it.  Because if you think everything you touch becomes art, this limits your credibility as an actual artist.  Pick an area or two.  If you truly want to express your artist’s heart and soul, it would be nice to see effort being put forward, instead of a halfhearted attempt at whatever hit your fancy this particular day.

Now you know what an artist has to do to justify calling whatever it is they produce, art.  I have a gift for you.  Here is a tool to use when visiting art centers or art shows or art fest or even an actual gallery.  I found an art critique site, click here.  All you have to do is plug in any five digits and a phrase will appear for your use in communicating with an artist in their own language.  This is a great tool for those of us with the idea that art should be able to speak for itself and we don't want to embarrass the artist when they ask us what we think.  

For example, 55555:  Although I am not a painter, I think that the subaqueous qualities of the purity of line makes resonant the distinctive formal juxtapositions.  (this would be great for anything with paint on it)

Or, 99999:  As an advocate of the Big Mac Aesthetic, I feel that the metaphorical resonance of the sexy fish threatens to penetrate the exploration of montage elements.  (this could be used for any waterscape, human form, or even something with blue on it) 

Yes.  This says it all.  I'm not sure if this site has been made into a iPhone app yet.  I hope so.  Oh my goodness, it would come in very handy.

384.  I know I've said it before, but it's worth saying again, air conditioning
385.  Remembering that weeks that seem as long as this week seems makes it seem like my life is longer
386.  Healthy Choice soup cups for the microwave (especially butternut squash)
387.  Only having to deal with musicians and professors half of my work week
388.  The holy spirit giving me excitement to study the book of Mark
389.  A good night's sleep

from The Museum of Bad Art

Why I don't hug

I'm not a hugger.  I don't like hugging.  It's not that I never hug.  It's just that it doesn't come easily for me.  I can hug my husband.  I don't do it often, and he doesn't ask me to do it often, but I can do it.  I can hug my mom and dad.  I can hug my son, but it is hard for me to do.  Weird, huh?  I read Emily's guest post yesterday at Nancy's blog, Out of My Alleged Mind.  So much of it broke my heart.  If you have an extra 5 minutes, click and read Em's story.

What is it about hugging that makes it hard for me to do it?  I know my answer, but it's hard to speak the words.  Maybe writing my reasons here will make it easier for me to understand them.  I can't believe how much my aversion to hugging has to do with my poor body image.  This is hard for me to share... here goes.  I don't like to feel the body of the person I hug and I REALLY don't want a person hugging me to feel my body.  There, I said it.  I don't like the feel of hugging anyone.  If they are overweight, I like it even less.  This is because I think they are thinking the same way I think about myself.  I hate the way my breasts feel, to me, when I hug someone.  I know my breasts are pushed up against their body.  I think to myself how absolutely horrible it must be for them to have to feel that part of my body smooshed up against their body.  The feeling makes me hate myself and my body because my body isn't what I wish it was.  I wish my breasts were small.  I wish my body was thin and athletic.  I am completely grossed out by the thought of someone's hands touching my back and feeling the indentation of my bra strap in my back fat.  If I hug a thin person, it isn't any better.  I think they think I'm disgusting.  My feelings of disgust of my body when hugging a thin person are equally overwhelming.  I feel as if I'm smothering them or crushing them.  They feel so small and fragile, I begin to feel like a giant and I can't get my hands off them quick enough.  I know these are just feelings and there is, most likely, nothing based in reality in them, but there you have it.  (who said ISTJ's don't have feelings?)

As I think about these feelings and thoughts I experience when hugging, I am reminded that it is much easier for me to hug someone who is wearing a coat or jacket.  It is much more difficult to hug someone wearing a tee-shirt or blouse.  I am absolutely sure I wouldn't be able to hug someone in a bathing suit or without a shirt.

I feel these same feelings when I am asked to hug children or hold a child.  I am uncomfortable touching or holding them.  I have an idea that the children want to escape my touch as quickly as possible.  I don't like the feeling of their chubby legs and arms touching my skin.  Don't get me wrong, I can push through this aversion and hold a child or hug a child, but if I don't have to do it, I won't offer.  It's just not something I'm comfortable doing.  While we were on vacation my husband's friend and his family came to visit.  They have two children.  We walked to a restaurant.  On the walk to the restaurant, the children held the hands of their parents.  (they are six years old and we were walking along a heavily trafficked road)  On the way back to the hotel, they must have felt more comfortable with us because the little boy wanted to hold my hand as we walked.  We chatted, but the whole walk I kept thinking, when will he want to pull away from me and not want to hold my hand anymore?  I was sure it would happen at any time.  I guess I didn't want to be rejected by a child.  Strange thoughts, I know.

At our church we "pass the peace of Christ" with a handshake.  (thank goodness there is no "holy kiss")  It is the MOST awkward time of the service for me.  Most of the time, hands miss or I notice I'm shaking the hand and wishing the peace of Christ to someone who is not even looking at me anymore.  The touching seems so forced and uncomfortable.  I really don't like this part of the service.  I don't mind shaking hands in a business situation, but I don't get all that excited about a handshake, either, it's just what we do in this country.

I think I was less uncomfortable with the greetings in Italy.  Even though I had to kiss both cheeks and have both cheeks kissed, there was a comfort in the way we grabbed shoulders and kissed and didn't have to embrace.

I shared this post today for a couple of reasons.  First, because I'm pretty sure I am not the only person out there with these feelings.  Blogging is such a great way to discover that other people have the same thoughts going through their heads that I have going through my head.  Secondly, I wrote this post to share that the reason I don't hug is all about me.  It as nothing to do with the other person.  The people I don't want to hug are completely lovable and huggable.  The other people are even people I like a lot.  I try so hard to make warm eye contact in place of the hug.  I try so hard to say the right thing and smile the right smile in place of the hug.  The reason you typically won't get a hug from me isn't about you, it's all about me. 

379.  Warm smiles
380.  Kisses on the cheek
381.  Words of affirmation
382.  Kind eye contact
383.  Kind words

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose on Thursdays