Waiter, there’s a gnat in my ‘rita.

It must be spring.

I wish GPS could plug into the brain of a car and remind the driver to USE THEIR TURN SIGNAL.

That is all.

Pulled out of my drafts, not sure what I intended to do with it. You know. Other than live it.

Moral Injunctions of Gestalt Therapy

Live now, stay in the present.
Live here, be with the present.
Stop imagining, experience reality.
Stop unnecessary thinking.
Express, rather than manipulating, explaining, justifing, or judging.
Give in to unpleasantness do not restrict your awareness.
‘Accept no “should” or “ought”, other than your own.
Take full responsibility for your own actions, feelings and thoughts.
Surrender to being who you are right now.

This is a terribly half baked post, but something I wanted to puke out so bear with me and throw in your $.02.

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A handful of weeks ago I was at lunch with Kelly, talking about how we (women/friends) need to play a bigger role in helping each other achieve our dreams. If you’re the corporate ladder type, you may not *get* any of this, but maybe it’ll spark a thought about a part of your life you’ve been neglecting. Who knows. Read on.

What I’m talking about is the following your bliss kind of dreams. The get out of debt and build a cabin dreams, the being a writer dreams, the making the world a better place dreams, the having a job that involves doing or working with what you love dreams.

I was telling Kel that we all need to be able to identify what those dreams are so we can help each other along the way by being outstanding cheerleaders or smack you on the ass as you hit the field team mates. We need to identify them so we can manifest them. We need to figure out what they are so we know where the hell we’re going.

It strikes me there are several things that prevent us from doing this though - either on the giving or the receiving end.

One is the BS brainwashing we go through from infancy to middle adulthood. We’re taught to be strong, not vulnerable. But admitting your dreams involves a great deal of being vulnerable. Even trying to find the start line can be anxiety inducing to a point of paralysis, let alone talking about it? Risking failure and exposing ourselves to others knowing about the failure? The horror!

Another self sabotaging move is that we fail to recognize our friends for what they are. People to share these dreams with, who want to help us succeed. Yes, we all have friends that’ll just stand on the sidelines and heckle and mutter under their breath about what we *should* have done, but we also have amazing communities of true, good people who are loving and constructive and will bounce onto the field if we trip and help us get back up. Eventually they might have to help us off the field but would you stop trying to see into the future? You haven’t even suited up yet!

Oh I’m getting lost in my analogy.

The week before last I met up with a group of women I’m in the early stages of getting to know, and somewhere early in our evening I admitted one of my dreams. And you know what? I was instantly less alone. Less scared by it. Still overwhelmed, but I’d taken a step. Not only did I have three new brilliant, charming and enthusiastic cheerleaders, but something unexpected happened: I had an opportunity to be a cheerleader for them and their dreams.

Can I get a hallelujah and an amen?!

So while I’m riding the high of these magnificent women and their energy, I’m also saddened and curious about the women on the other side of the playing field. The women who won’t celebrate or embrace or lift each other up - the ones who take your news into a the big gnarled black hole where their heart and spirit used to be. Is it because they’re jealous? That they have dreams they’re not ready to admit or chase? Am I a bad person for wanting to walk away from them, or is it somehow my duty to lift them up to join me? Are they absently producing passive discouragement or is it intentional?

Sure, I may not realize half my dreams. I’m not anxious to admit that or absorb that reality yet, but it’s looming…and it’s okay. At least I’ll have tried and done and learned and lived.

Like I said, this is a pile of still warm regurgitated thoughts - bits that probably shouldn’t have been mixed but somehow were and while delicious, not all of it is settling exactly right.

Any thoughts resonate with you? Anything you’d argue for or against? Any dreams you want to come out of the closet and share so we can get a full squad formed (don’t worry, I won’t make you wear the skirt and spankies unless you want to)?

The only marginally impressive or redeeming quality John McCain has is that he served on the USS Enterprise and *that* makes me snicker.

During a long distance reality check from my older, wiser and much more daring seester last night we were discussing my being in a vulnerable place. “That’s not a good place for you” she says. I grunt a nearly inaudible “no” to affirm the statement. She goes on. “It’s not one of your favorites. I’d guess it’s not on your list of 100 places you want to go before you die.”

I love her perspective and I love her for making me laugh when I’m feeling poopy.

*****

This morning laying in bed, with The Mc standing over me telling me it’s time to get up and my coffee is waiting on the bathroom counter. My face is buried in a pillow and I grumble “cramps” following it up with an overly dramatic child like pouting fake whimper.

“Women really should get extra time off so they can stay home during the worst day of their cycle.”

He’s a logical, handsome, witty, charming little genius and I love him for sympathizing with me.