Category Archives: inspiration

Jul11

the world is made of spider webs

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“When I’m an old lady I want to be one of those women that has a house full of plants, weird rocks and crystals. That just looks after her animals, paints and minds her own business with her crazy hair.” – unk

Well I don’t know who said that, but I am that woman now! It’s the second week of July already. I’m getting around to spring cleaning. Better late than never I suppose. For starters, it’s been a little-shop-of-horrors-like around here for a couple of years now. I seem to have a green thumb (I am an old witch, after all.)
I take home little forlorn plants from the grocery store clearance for $3. and two years later there is nowhere to sit in the same room. One small monstera I brought home (it had tipped over and lost half it’s dirt) is now eight feet wide and ten feet high. Seven years ago I bought a foot-high Norfolk Island Pine (indoor only in my climate) to use as a tiny Christmas tree and it’s almost hitting the ceiling now. My son helped me move the plants out to the back deck the other day. They aren’t coming back in. I need to find homes for them. Removing them has opened up every room and it feels so spacious in here I could dance. No really – I could actually dance in here.

This is a small house. Originally built as a summer cottage by a University of Michigan professor, the idiot I bought it from tore out most of it’s original features and knocked out walls to create an open floor plan. If you don’t know how I feel about that you might read some of my older posts. Suffice it to say that open floor plans are an abomination of the human spirit. They suck the dignity out of relationships by unnaturally forcing everyone in the household to share the same noises and smells. It feels like living inside a shoe box. Open floors plans are for worms…just sayin’…

But I live in an open floor plan, because, well, it was the right house in the right place. The plants apparently like this arrangement. They have taken over, spreading from the studio to the kitchen and the living area to the dining area. And down the stairs and across the ceiling. This ends now. I’m taking back my home! I love nature, and I will always have a few plants. But this has become ridiculous. I’m ducking and penguin-ing myself around them.

For my next trick, I’m deep cleaning all those creepy corners I haven’t been able to reach or crawl into. Getting all the spider webs and tumbleweeds of cat hair out. Eeeeewwwwww…and I have taken down the curtains and washed them. Everything has sticky dust. And I wonder why I’m so sick all the time?! Twelve loads of laundry later and the place is looking like new.

So here’s the thing. I’ve read a bazillion books on decluttering and feng shui-ing your space back into order. Psychology journals about how decluttering helps your mental health. And I’ve always done it throughout the years…in little increments. It has never felt like this. Maybe because I’ve been ill? It’s true that I’ve never let my home get this dirty and cluttered before. But something about this is coinciding with a huge shift in awareness.

A few months ago I participated in a Beta test group for a program designed to help older women traversing life changes. I’ve mentioned it here briefly, and I will provide a link for you at the bottom of this post. It’s called the Wayfinding Road. I don’t know what any of us were expecting, but this process with this group of remarkable women has been beyond helpful. The small group I was working with included a recent widow, a woman retiring and moving across the country, a woman whose husband was ill, one who had left the country and relocated to Europe, one who is a political refugee in exile. All manner of circumstances – one uncompromising commitment: a life of continued growth. We quickly realized we had much in common despite a wide variety of life experiences. Soon after the 6 week program began I started having dreams with these women in them. And my dreams were fantastic, adventurous and profoundly healing. I was wealthy beyond measure. Something supernatural was happening. We discovered we were all having experiences we could not explain. We started calling it “magic” for lack of a better explanation.

I have never met any one of these women in person. I have interacted with them only online and via email. If one of them called tomorrow and said “I need your help,” I’d be on a plane. They taught me how to love myself. I’m done with depression and shame and guilt. They taught me how to stop performing my life and begin to live it, deeply. They are well educated, articulate. Some of them speak more than one or two languages. They are all extraordinary. The 2nd time we met I confessed to feeling unworthy of their friendship – but I knew I had 2 choices: drop out or show up. I showed up and they lifted me higher.

I hear them talking to me in meditation, telling me precisely what action to take to heal myself. This morning’s meditation told me that my chronic pain and illness serves only to remind me that I took on the responsibility for my family, and that it is long past time to let them go. Not only can I not be responsible for them, but this addiction to saving them is not helping anyone. I gave it up today and got out of bed pain free.

My life has begun to change now in the last few months. Not in any way I had planned. It’s still going on; it’s a process. I don’t know what this means or where it will lead me. Watch this space. But wow…change is afoot.

Lynnelle Wilson is the creator of Wayfinding Road. Contact her through YouTube or Substack:

Jul8

…forget something?

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As it happened, my phone that is way smarter than me created a “video memory” all by itself, and sent it to me this morning. It was titled “Arizona and Illinois.” It was a short video account of the road trip I took this spring, a few short months ago. A good friend was moving back from Arizona to Michigan, and I had offered to “help.” In retrospect, I don’t think I was much help, but we did make the move. I flew out 2 days before the movers were scheduled. We finished the little bit of last minute packing. And when the movers pulled away we got into her car and left Tucson for Traverse City.

Two seventy-something single women driving across the country in a white SUV…what could possibly go wrong?! Haaaaa…actually, everything went quite well. We had to drive through the northern Arizona mountains in a blizzard…but other than that…She was driving when we hit the blizzard, so she drove us right through it. I’ve always said that if you can drive in Michigan winters you can drive in anything. Well, that, and learning to drive in Detroit in the 1960’s. Believe me – I can drive anything anywhere. But I digress…

A few things struck me about this phone-created photo montage. The first thing I noticed was my face looked weird. My face has been looking weird for awhile. Pinched is how I would describe it; almost a grimace. Puffy. Swollen and pinched – as if I were in pain. Because guess what?

You know, your body adjusts to pain. It does it’s very best to compensate and keep you upright. And you think you’re dealing with it when you aren’t. I don’t look like myself in those photos. I was in pain. I was also sick. I had motion sickness on the airplane on the way out to Tucson. That came on suddenly and completely shocked me. I’ve traveled all my life on boats and planes and I’ve never had motion sickness. I love flying.

Once on the ground I seemed fine, but I wasn’t really. I was just distracted; there was a job to be done. I am sure I was moving slow and I know I took a lot of breaks, hence my thought that I could not have really been much help. But we managed.

We had to push through the blizzard in the mountains and so decided to spend a couple of nights in Santa Fe and decompress, maybe get some rest. I love Santa Fe, but I seemed to have been adversely affected by the altitude on this visit. It was my birthday that weekend and I was being treated to dinner at Coyote Cafe. But I had to return to the hotel room immediately afterward and crash. Not only was I not much help, but now I was also not much fun. There is a possibility that I was actually a royal pain the butt. It’s been known to happen.

Fast forward almost 3 months and it hits me: I was going to use that trip as a jump start to my new-found health and creative life. Oops. I seem to have forgotten that. The slide show also reminded me of a piece of art I saw in Santa Fe that I intended to come home and use as inspiration for a painting of my own. What is Santa Fe for if not inspiration?! I forgot it altogether.

It would seem that I quickly forgot all the changes I wanted to make upon my return home. I slipped right back into my clunky old life, my poor health habits, and my outdated ways of thinking. But I know better. The old ways haven’t worked for a long, long time. And hence yesterday’s post about basic self care. Self care isn’t indulgent. Without it I have nothing to share; I can’t even show up as the friend I want to be.

Jul7

walkin’ my talk…

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For some odd reason, this July 4th holiday has been a wakeup call for me. It isn’t that I didn’t know that it’s the middle of the summer…and sorta the middle of the year…but this year it hit me hard: it’s half over! I’ve never made resolutions at the beginning of a year, but I did have some ideas of how I wanted to make changes in my life. I do have goals for myself, not the least of which is improved health.

My health has not improved. It had been a struggle. I wake most days in quite a bit of pain. Headache, nausea, stiffness and pain in my back and hips primarily. But it moves around. It seems to “settle” in the joints I slept on. I’ve been referred now to a rheumatologist. But there are things I can – and will – do to help myself naturally. Some of them are as simple as getting into a warm shower immediately upon waking. Well, after feeding the cat, of course. It actually helps a lot. But I had gotten out of this habit, drinking coffee and checking emails and watching YouTube videos instead. And putting off a shower until after I had done housework or yard work. And taken some Tylenol. Tylenol is not a good habit.

It isn’t working. Let me rephrase that: I am not working. My body is not cooperating with my plans and my commitment to said plans gets delayed…and delayed. My life is on hold until I feel better. Insert rolling eye emoji here…

Pain is a formidable opponent. So is depression. And they often hang out in the same circles. It’s time for some new companions. Like determination and curiosity…and hope. Where to start when you really just want to go back to bed? Start small. But start. Change a habit, maybe two. Return to the basics of self care. As much as I hate to admit it, I have to go right back to basic basics. I have no long term practice of self care. In fact, I’ve had to figure out what that buzzword even means. I was never taught.

So, I will get right up and into a warm shower every morning. Then I will make my bed. I will drink a glass of water before coffee. In fact, one big change is leaving out the cream and drinking my coffee black. It sucks all the joy out of life, but I can do it for a time. If I don’t put milk in my coffee, it is easy to give up dairy. That comes with some dietary changes, again small, but significant. I’ve pretty much given up sugar already and cut way back on carbs. I don’t buy bread anymore; I do eat some gluten-free pasta.

I’ve been writing intermittently. Waiting for inspiration to strike; it isn’t coming. I will go back to writing daily. Daily. Morning pages for starters. I know this works. WHY don’t I do what I know works??!!!! And then, we WALK. Julia Cameron stresses it constantly. Christ, she’s written books about it. Just fu*#ing WALK already! I had an ah-ha this morning as I headed out the back door – I feel guilty about going for a walk, as though it’s self-indulgent if I’m leaving behind housework and a messy yard. That’s where my energy should go. And there I go, shoulding on myself. There is NOTHING self-indulgent about going for a walk. It’s basic self care.

Jun5

…and smoke.

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Petrichor and lilacs…and smoke. The rain let up yesterday evening, and today we have had to close up the house. Despite delightfully cool temperatures, the air is thick with the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. I have gone from loving the smell of the rain and blooming lilacs to an air quality advisory. Now the weather report includes the “smoke map.” The stars are no longer visible in the night sky.

“Sensitive groups, such as those with respiratory issues, are advised to take precautions.” Like what?! Stop breathing?! Suddenly (or not) the world has become a scary place. I don’t say that lightly; it is not lost on me that it long has been for many people. Let alone nature. God help us.

It is five a.m. as I write this. Later this morning my air conditioners will be installed and run – not to cool the house (the current outside temperature is fifty degrees) – but to filter the air. Many people here live without air conditioning as it isn’t frequently needed. Or, I should say, wasn’t. Again, the privilege not being lost on me. It’s the wildlife I’m most concerned with. Especially the birds. Especially the migrating birds, heading north this time of year to summer in Canada. Where do they go now? I fear that I sound ridiculously naive, and perhaps I am…perhaps I am…

And so, fear triggers in me a reminder to pull back. Pull my energy back into my body and focus on the present moment. Remember that each breath is a sacred gift. If again I sound naive, so be it. I am reminded by Tiokisin Ghosthorse that it is not so much my lungs that I should be concerned with. It’s my heart. My heart hurts.

May12

treat the world like a scavenger hunt

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“God is in the details.” – Mies van der Rohe

Our creativity got hijacked. I would maybe say that differently: mine got kidnapped and held for ransom. However, I am ever more reminded how it does not go away; it lies quietly dormant waiting to be joyously and exuberantly remembered. Treat the world – LIFE – like a scavenger hunt. Because it is.

Susan’s Scavenger Hunt for you today: find these 5 things: 1) something you are proud of, 2) something you would happily do again, 3) five consecutive minutes of peaceful thought, 4) a stream of light where you didn’t expect it, and 5) a gentle sound from nearby.

AND, one extra: find the color of your eyes in something today.

May10

and I just ain’t got the time

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“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.” – Maya Angelou

Recently I wrote that my mojo was missing like Car 54…and then I wrote nothing for weeks. I had nothing. Crickets. Where does it go, the muse, the inspiration, the energy…life? In the barometer of my body it feels to have dropped…way down deep inside. And it feels like death. Well, not that I know what death feels like, although I’ve been close a few times. But it feels something has stopped breathing. It’s hibernating. It can’t be prodded or cajoled to surface; I have to wait until it – she – crawls out from under the covers. It’s always tentative at first. Shy. Vulnerable. Immature.

Music is often the ladder I climb out of that dark womb back to the misty surface of the early morning light. Many years ago a friend told me I have a musical heart, and I think I always have. I come from a family of musicians. I don’t seem to have any talent there, but I often dream in song.

The first time I heard Stevie Winwood’s haunting voice my soul recognized a fellow spirit. That’s what good art does. It wakes something hiding deep inside. How many times did I experience Stevie Winwood in concert? Spencer Davis Group, Blind Faith (at the Grande Ballroom?) Traffic at Joe Louis Arena – The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys tour in 1972 (the year I graduated high school.) I went to hear him. Not Eric Clapton, or Ginger Baker.

Sing to me, Stevie. I’m all alone in this cage, and somebody holds the key…

Apr22

tick tock

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This might be one of the most difficult posts I have written in the 13 – 14 years I’ve had this blog. I’ve lost my mojo. I am taking a class to get it back. Seriously, a class. Maybe group therapy would be more accurate…for aging women like myself who can’t seem to find their way. It’s called Wayfinding. I’ve missed the first of the six weekly sessions already. This past week it’s pneumonia trying to take me out; but isn’t it always something?! So, I’ll have to keep you posted. I have catch-up homework, and I don’t mean that metaphorically.

Suffice it to say my motivation took flight with my self worth somewhere back near the beginning of winter. Okay, maybe right after the election last November. And life hasn’t felt the same since. You never imagine you are going to live through the things you studied in high school history, like pandemics. And brutal fascist regimes. Life was so….so….mmmmm…not easy by any means…maybe the term I’m searching for is naively optimistic.

But here I am, in my seventh decade, feeling somewhat ignorant and defeated. Before you ask – thanks for your concern – yes, I’ve consulted my doctor. Switched antidepressants. Tried generic Adderall. Yuk. Therapy. Then no talking. Eating more meat. Eating no meat. Giving up sugar along with my will to live. “Mojo…where are you?” It’s gone like Car 54.

If you’ve read this far, I’mma sume you are experiencing some of this yourself. Congratulations. We made the shift to hyper-space. It feels like we left our soul back in the previous galaxy when we came through that wormhole. Like not all our particles beamed up in the transporter. I want to posit something for your consideration here: maybe – just maybe – we actually left behind every molecule of ourselves we NO LONGER NEED.

Now, nobody dislikes a Pollyanna more than me. I’m a supreme skeptic. But what if – and I know I’ve said this before, but really – what if we are right where we need to be doing exactly what we need to be doing? Because I didn’t come this far just to come this far.

Let me say that I am unequivocally uninterested in re-inventing myself. Been there, done that, got a closet full of those tee shirts. But this is different. You feel it, too. THIS. IS. DIFFERENT. All that psychobabble about 3D to 5D reality aside, you hippies…WTF does this mean?!

It means we drop the pretense. Pretense being anything and everything we pretended was real. Or significant. Drop who you think you are. Let yourself fall apart at the seems.

Let’s try an experiment: question everything you thought you knew. Everything you thought you knew about yourself, about who you are. Who you were, where you came from, why you’re here. Why that family? Why this country? Why that interest? Don’t assume anything. Dig deep. Where did that belief come from? Why do you think that? Draw the line at this boundary: Do I trust that I know right from wrong? Start there and come back to this exact moment in time. Question everything up to now.

And now answer this: what do you want? What do you want?

Mar18

Facing East…

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So, I’m home. And I am wanting to experience the full meaning of that. Whoever said, “Home is heaven for beginners” got it. It means the world to me. It is truly my sanctuary. Please allow me a little artistic indulgence today as I am still resting up…

I remember house hunting years ago with my then husband, and our realtor was a long-time friend of his. Which meant they were a) men, and b) a generation older than me. Anyway, I could list a thousand reasons why we weren’t on the same page. My criteria was like science fiction to them. For starters, the front door needs to face east. What kind of trees are on the property? Don’t show me another house without windows in the bathrooms. Not skylights – operable windows. “It’s an energy thing.” That’s also why the kitchen sink is under a window, always. Nothing contemporary, thank you. Nope; no tri-levels (that was a real stumbling block…) Needless to say I usually ended up doing some remodeling. It was far more important to me than to him.

The home I’m in now is my very least favorite style, MCM (mid-century modern.) Maybe because I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. It was just everywhere. I have no use for it whatsoever. But this was the right house, at the right price, in the right place at the right time. Most of the original features had already been stripped out here, but the basic architecture is still apparent. I can live with the wide prow of the roof overhang and the expansive glass window walls. I won’t remove any of the remaining features; I’m decidedly against bastardizing a homes’ original architecture unless you have the means to take it to the studs and rebuild in another style altogether. No hybrid architecture for the most part. So I will also live with the open floor plan and the sandstone fireplace wall for now, although I did paint it.

It means that my beloved crystal chandelier remains in it’s packing, and my traditional English country decor gets thrown into an eclectic mix of old and new, at least for now. I do have a lot of avocado and chartreuse, my favorite colors. Actually, I like any color. As long as it’s green.

Butter Wakefield’s London townhouse is my inspiration. Black, white, green all day long, please. With some bright red-orange scattered about…how delightful! Although, I wouldn’t have the grey walls of the sitting room. I’m about to paint my interior walls my go-to favorite of the last few decades: Benjamin Moore’s Mystical Powers. It’s a soft off-white that reads a warm blush pink in certain light. Pink is the forgotten neutral. I’ve been waiting all winter to be able to open the windows and have fresh air and a fresh palette.

Mar15

obstacles in mirror may be closer than they appear

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This little reprieve away I went south – literally. I flew from Michigan to Arizona to help a friend make the trek back. As we are in our 70’s now, and our priorities have changed, she was moving from Tucson back to Traverse City to live close to children, grandchildren, and friends. To lend support and be supported; that’s what it’s about now that we are aging.

We finished up the last little bit of packing, and once the movers had the house cleaned out, she and I left to drive back to Michigan in her car. We left Arizona in a blizzard, which seems perfectly appropriate. Why wouldn’t we drive through the steep mountain passes of Salt River Canyon in a blizzard? Because as we know, WWASOS (white women ain’t scared of shit.)

She was driving. We had a hotel reservation and a deadline. We got through the mountain blizzard and both said, “well, that wasn’t bad.” The next morning I overheard two older truck drivers in the hotel lobby talking about that drive being the scariest thing they’ve ever done. We were in Gallup, New Mexico, headed to Santa Fe, and were informed by the hotel that our highway east was closed temporarily due to a semi pileup. The roads were icy and it was snowing. So we lingered over breakfast before taking off, and that drive was a breeze.

We were reminded what a spectacular country this is. Wow, it is beautiful. Very inspiring. My dear friend treated us to lovely hotels and meals. We drew tarot cards and we cried a little and laughed a lot – and solved all the world’s problems you’ll be glad to know. Only a little witchcraft was involved…some reiki, some prayers (aka spells), and a good deal of coffee…

And I am home, my favorite place to be in the entire world. I am once again reminded of how addicted I am to my routine, my creature comforts close at hand (not at the bottom of a bag) and how I do so love the trees and the birds and the lush rolling hills of Michigan. The topography is soft and undulating here, like me. This is my land.

Feb25

from survival to mastery

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Thank you, Dear Reader, for being here. I’ve gone AWOL again. But I’m back with renewed determination and fortitude. When I go offline here it means I’ve gone offline in my life. I’m in survival mode. It never ceases to surprise me, because, well, I’m far too self aware for that to happen again…right?! (Insert laughing emoji face here.)

We all have a default. It’s the trigger that catches you by surprise every damn time. It’s a sneaky demon. It’s a jealous, vengeful little tick. It doesn’t want your life. Oh wait – yes it does. It just wants what you have. You know what that is, right? Right?!

It’s wants FREEDOM. It wants all the freedom, as if it were a limited resource. It wants a life of it’s own. Let’s not give it ours, whaddayasay?

I have a favorite scene in a favorite old movie, Witches of Eastwick. Brilliant movie, way before it’s time. The women have discovered that they can fly. The dog is barking at them. And Daryl Van Horne kneels next to the dog to calm him, and whispers, “Look what they can do. These are human beings.” And he isn’t – but he sure is in awe of them.

Are you in awe? Are you in awe of you, of your life? Are we? Are we thriving? Thriving requires we free ourselves from survival mode. Apparently I’m accruing more clueage about how to do that, and I humbly come here to share my floundering. Just FYI, I will continue to seek freedom until my dying breath. Some days I’m kicking and screaming (which looks like ranting and raving.) More often than not I’m under the covers, breathing shallowly, wondering how I came to be so small again.

Now about that “clueage” – which we will explore here this week: I have a niggling feeling deep inside that it’s the same issue for us all. I’m certainly not special or unique in this intrinsically human pursuit. There is a common denominator in all our woes. You won’t like it. It’s ugly and you might not believe we are still dealing with this all these years of therapy later. It’s codependence.

Cringe. Yep. You think you healed it or outgrew it, and it finds a way to sneak back in through your pores and infiltrate your bloodstream. You felt safe, and you let down a boundary.

So that’s about the gist of this – boundaries are never going to be negotiable. You are going to have to spend the rest of your spectacular human life patrolling the fence line of your own being. YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PUT YOURSELF FIRST.

That’s all there is to it…