When the Astrological year begins with the Spring Equinox on Tuesday, it will feature a year of making “value based” decisions – based on our core values. Do you know what your core values are?
Many of us can’t really define theirs, no one ever helped them develop a value system, but it’s never too late to start. Building a foundation for which to make choices in your life makes it easier, more plentiful and less subject to strife.
For instance, spending time “keeping up with the Jones’” makes for uncertainty and never knowing your own “enough”. High School children marching with “enough is enough” posters to signify enough school violence don’t talk about the violence in their own lives from video games and movies. They don’t speak against the late-night talk shows that ridicule others and bully those that don’t value what they purport to value. And while they think “see something, say something” is a noble way to live, they won’t “rat” on their friends. Which is really “enough”.
I hope you all find your “enough” this year of values. I hope you think about the 6 core values and choose to find out exactly what that means to you and how you’ll implement them in your lives. I’ll be living mine – working on Service to others. I need to decide who and how.
We’re learning, or trying to, learn how to do nothing. We’re in between homes, living in our 25’ travel trailer and hoping the days go by quickly. Usually we have so much on our plates that we’re not sure how we’ll get it all finished. Is this truly how other retired folks live in the 56 RV Parks and campgrounds here in Quartzsite, Arizona?
We’ve both walked the rock show at least 4 or 5 times. So today we decided we’d do some of the small businesses in town. We started with the used book store. We were greeted by three tall Cowboys with Stetson hats, arms crossed and a tiny book on a stand in front of each of them. We had stumbled upon an authors fair, only there wasn’t much festive about it. Their body language was more “you better not question my writing and I’m not answering any questions” then it was an opportunity to chat with an author about their style, subject, or other possible stories.
I went into the book store where the atmosphere was more card and gift than book store. If there was any rhyme or reason to how things were shelved it was not apparent. We were looking for two things here in the rockhounding/trading capitol of the west – old “Rock and Gem “ magazines and Arizona gem hunting books. When the owner replied, “is there really a magazine by that title?”, I knew we were in trouble. I wasn’t surprised to learn she didn’t have any, and with the appearance of other customers we left.
Tracy had gone out to look through the small outbuilding they used as a rock shop. They had some nice pieces and Tracy asked the elderly gentleman the price. With felt cowboy hat and warm coat he proceeded to quote him a price. The view of his bare legs and teeny bum were free, but you could buy a bookmark with his picture on it for $3.00 sporting a hand crocheted ball and penis bag in your choice of colors. Today’s bag was brown.
That was #enough for me. So we headed for the yarn shop where the husband ran the register but couldn’t answer any questions and the wife/crafter/knitter she wasn’t there in the afternoons. That sent us to the public library where 15 computers were available 1 hour at a time. Ah! I felt some sense of normalcy.
What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? I think we’re going back to the book store to see if she can find books on rockhounding Arizona. Tracy asked me if that was out of desperation? I think so. But take heart we told each other – only 3 more days this week and five next without a project. Maybe we’ll go back and get a bookmark.
Ah, I feel better already. Until next time. . .
I had another birthday,
too many to count.
At least it works in my favor,
I now get a Senior discount.
I had another birthday,
I made it another year;
My thanks to all who sent good wishes,
From New York to Mt. Ranier.
I’m still making little baskets,
and weaving with tiny beads;
Watching Tracy grind on shiny rocks
None of it High-speed.
I had another birthday,
A day without party or stuff;
But a day with your love and friendship – thanks,
I’m wishing for your #enough!!!
Happy days to you all!!!
Everyone in the world needs a mentor at every stage of their life. She never really thought about who her first (and always) mentor was until much later in life. She had so many over the years, it seemed. There was always someone who helped her get to the next stage of her life. Not all were men. In fact, her first and most impactful mentor was her mother.
It wasn’t always a relationship of love and joy, in fact were there times of downright hate. But it was that love/hate relationship that allowed her to grow and recognize how important her mother had been in her life.
She didn’t feel mentored when her older sister basically raised her while mom played in the bridge club. She didn’t feel mentored when her mother divorced her father and she was cast to the four winds (or at least that’s how she felt) when her “Pal and Buddy” left the house. She didn’t feel mentored when she became an outcast wearing thrift store clothing and had no friends while mom wore expensive suits and gadded about on weekends.
What she didn’t see was that regardless of all the emotional pain, she was so much better off than so many others. What she did’t know is she had #enough. She didn’t know that the musical talents she was given were her anchor to sanity. She could hide behind her flute and play to soothe her soul. She didn’t appreciate her warm bed and three squares. All she could see was the dysfunction of her family and her life and hate her mother for it.
It would be years before she realized that she would not have gotten to the employment levels she did without the example set by her mother. She would not know how to dress, behave or work in a professional environment without her guidance. She remembers at 14 having to “go to work” with Mom during Christmas break. There was no way this “creative child” could be left home alone. She was given the task of addressing the Law Firms Christmas Cards by hand (that’s where Mom worked). The addresses had to be lined up just so; the penmanship impeccable; the envelope perfect, while dress was skirt and nylons, voice was quiet, and comments were kept to one’s self. She hated it. But it was such good training for other mentors to send her forward.
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
That phrase never appeared in my latest read – “A Memory of Violets: A Novel of London’s Flower Sellers” by Hazel Gaynor. The children of historic London were the flower sellers – watercress, roses, lavendar, shamrocks, each season there was one special nosegay they sold on the street to the affluent Britains. It was there they learned to take each day as it comes, don’t wrorry about the future, leave the past where it is. It was there that “little mothers” were born. They were the children who raised their younger siblings in the absence of any parents. It was there the street Urchins might meet Mr. Shaw and be chosen to live and work at his Watercress and Flower Girls Facility in Clerkenwell.
The street urchins of London in the 1800’s, results of polio, accients and abandonment, were like most of the street children – they wore tattered,m dirty frocks, which hun off their undernourished bodies and went about barefoot. Mr. Shaw “sensed that it would be only y housing the girls, removing them permanently from theirlife on the streets and providing them a purpose, that we could ever make a real and lasting difference to their lives.”
The houses were called a “Crippleage”, but they were places where children learned that “to love and be loved is the greatest joy on earth”. They learned to make silk flowers by the hundreds, and they learned to care and share.
This is my best read of 2015, at least thus far. Ms. Gaynor has done a wonderful job telling their true story, all the while asking “Is this an ending or a beginning?” Good question – one I should have asked myself over the years. The love of two sisters, the sorrow of childhood poverty, the history of women in society, the compassion of a London man who owned an engraving business who had #enough and hired a room for hot cocoa and bread and butter.
A must read.