NOT According to Plan

We all have days when nothing goes according to plan. Gotta love the Woody Allen quote, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” I find the heavenly hosts have a warped sense of humor. How many of us find unplanned change humorous? Certainly 2014 didn’t end up as I expected. I wasn’t laughing.

Expectations can get cemented in our heads, and when things don’t go as planned we’re often at a loss about how to react, resolve, and move on.

Back in 2013 I set out for Orlando on a February day, thrilled about some time away from winter. The first leg of the trip was a flight from Reno to Las Vegas with a connection to Orlando, arriving at 6pm. Awesome! I made plans with a friend for dinner. All pre-trip preparations went extremely smoothly – pet sitter to stay with the dogs, the 15-minute drive to the airport, easy long-term parking a very short walk to the terminal, and no line to check in.

 “Hold on!” said the Universe, “This isn’t much fun! Flight to Vegas is now cancelled. And, ha, ha, the next flight not until 3:30pm.” The Southwest ticket agent could only offer an option on a flight through Denver, arriving in Orlando at 10pm. “No!” I protested to myself. “I must get to Orlando by dinner time!” I remained outwardly calm, but my chest tightened, an unnatural breathing rhythm taking over.

Occasionally, in times of frustration, replays of dreams during middle and high school years rise up from the archives and roll across the back of my eyes. I’m sure others experience similar dreams – unsuccessful attempts, no matter how hard you try at getting somewhere, because the most ridiculous (after all it’s a dream) events pop up or villains do their best to keep you from your destination. Please tell me I’m not the only one that experienced those locker nightmares – not remembering how to find my locker in the maze of hallways, or if I did - already too late to get to class on time - realizing any memory of the combination had been wiped clean.

Snapping back to the present, I realized my cell phone was missing. I’d had it in my lap on the drive to the airport and could only hope that it lay on the ground in the parking garage and no one had picked it up. (If you’ve ever spent any time with me, you know I have phone “issues”). I quickly rebooked my flight on Southwest for 12:45pm through Denver and charged back outside to search for the phone. The Universe took pity on me. The phone smiled at me from the driver’s seat.

Back inside the airport, I trudged in vain from airline to airline looking for alternative, earlier flights. From United to Delta to American to US Air, I got the same response – no flights arriving in Orlando earlier than 11pm. Resigned to a much longer day than anticipated, I sat down to cancel dinner plans. The moment I put the phone down, though, I felt a smile creep across my face. Time - much needed downtime - had just landed in my lap, even if I had to spend it at the airport.

This is where Julia, Will, and Fay come in to the story. Julia was my seatmate on the flight from Reno to Denver. She was on her way home to Ft. Lauderdale after a ski trip to Tahoe with a girlfriend. Born in Argentina, she’d been a skier since she was a toddler, now one of those daring souls that take paths down the mountain few others attempt. We talked our way through the turbulence upward out of Reno and all the way down into Denver. Weird but true, Argentina has long been on my ‘list’ of places to visit. With Julia’s delightful descriptions of the people and landscape, I believe it will be a destination I get to cross off that list.

Now imagine a Morgan Freeman character that’s a cross between Hoke in Driving Miss Daisy and Carter in The Bucket List, and you’ve got Will. Retired from a career as a military paratrooper (and another 17 years in law enforcement after that) he now enjoys his time traveling the world with his wife, Fay, a recently retired corrections officer. The Universe plopped me down beside these two for the trip from Denver to Orlando. They’ve returned from a trip to Japan. They stopped in Alaska on the way back, rented a car, and drove to San Francisco to begin a commercial flight home to Orlando. They seldom fly commercially, opting instead for military hops to most destinations, often at the last minute. Their trip to Japan and back cost a total of $36.50. Will laughed as he admitted a taxi ride from the car rental location to the airport in San Francisco set him back $44.00. More laughter as he disclosed that until the last few years he didn’t know what it was like to actually land in a plane because he’d always jumped.

The conversation only got better. Turns out we’d crisscrossed the country a few times over the years – Minnesota, Illinois, and Alabama. We knew the same restaurants, some of which no longer exist. We shared our experiences as parents of only children. Their son, just a few years older than my daughter, lives in Tampa and works in management for a bank. Will’s initial foray into commercial flight began as his son entered college and played football in Minnesota. Will never missed a game – flying from Orlando every weekend during the season - all four years.

Will and Fay had been away from home for a month. Will couldn’t wait to see his son. Fay couldn’t wait to see her own bed, announcing with glee that she was going to jump on it like a kid as soon as she got there.

I hated to see the trip come to an end. In the final 45 minutes of the flight, Will and I guessed which city we were flying over. I guessed Mobile, AL. He said Daytona, FL. Fay, in the middle seat, remained noncommittal. We asked the flight attendant to determine the winner. She called the cockpit for verification. We were both wrong. We’d just passed over Macon GA.

Just before touch down, I sat back for a few moments, closed my eyes, and smiled. The Universe always knows best, even when we have to be knocked a little sideways, our ‘plans’ tossed aside, to realize it.

I’ll carry this memory forward with me this year. More gratitude for 2015!

P.S. That cancelled dinner with my friend? Four friends were available the next night!

New Year's Resolutions: More Road Trips, Less Fear

I love spontaneous road trips! The freedom of not knowing exactly where I'm going is one of the best gifts I can give myself. The landscape here offers endless possibilities for discovery and adventure. Wherever I stop I can breathe in and out long enough to distill away the noise that's accumulated in my head from busy work weeks and weekends catching up on to-do lists rather than bucket lists. My intention for these days revolves mostly around gathering inspiration for writing, photography, and alleviating the fear of failure (or success) that likes to accompany creativity.

My first road adventure after moving to Reno coincided with the day Larry Hoppen passed away. Larry was the co-founder and lead singer of Orleans. He was just 61 years old. Larry was one of those musicians who gave graciously of his time after concerts, many of which were free to the public, and never seemed to mind that I was frequently just a few feet away with a camera pointed in his direction.

I chatted with him briefly on a few occasions. The song Dance With Me still stops me in my tracks every time I hear it. He knew, but I never told him how grateful I was for their music, the influence it had on me back in the ‘70’s, or how fortunate I felt to meet the guys who created it.

How often have we wished we'd told someone exactly how we feel, tried something new, or took a risk of any kind? All who have survived the loss of a loved one know that no opportunity should be missed to make your feelings known while he or she is still here. Larry’s death reminded me once again that our time here is far too short.

The Universe invites us to take full advantage of every day - to try that new thing even when we fail, to grab up love when it magically appears despite heart wrenching past relationships or the possibility of new heartbreak. Fear, it seems, is the bandit that creeps in to rob us of precious moments, that once gone never return.

Fear remains the shaky ground I undoubtedly have to navigate with some semblance of balance in order to keep moving forward. After a hike on a trail bordered by trees freely offering their arms to the skies, I settled on a rock overlooking Lake Tahoe in a state park. Boulders crop up out of the dust and rusted pine needles to declare their part in the magic; many perched atop each other in a triple-dog-dare to the forces of weather. There is no fear in nature - beauty marches on despite wind, rain, or snowstorm.

Eleanor Roosevelt said "Do one thing every day that scares you." I've had this posted on my refrigerator for years but stopped paying attention. Let's be mindful of our own uncertainties, toss them out, and encourage others to do the same. Fear of failure or of success traps us in a ball of twine so tight it's impossible to escape unless we cut out the knots that stymie our passions.

I can’t guess what fears Larry Hoppen might have had, but they didn't keep him from pursuing at least one of his passions. This day I spent time reflecting on mine and it was a good day. My toast to Orleans!

Here’s a New Year’s toast to you. Focus on the joy of freedom - in whatever manifestation you choose.  Make 2015 the year you step through fear onto the path of your passions. I’m trying right along with you.

Book recommendation: Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, David Bayles and Ted Orland. Don’t let the reference to art scare you – so much in this book applies to fears about ourselves and others.

Thoughts on Love Lost and Gratitude

In 2007 I bought a stack of composition notebooks, a few artsy journals, and really cool pens. At the insistence of a friend willing to hold me accountable, I reluctantly jotted down three things I’d been grateful for each day. I wrote the same three things every day for weeks - my daughter, my pups, and either friends or a roof over my head. I despised the act of considering gratitude when I felt broken, sad, and angry at the world following my husband’s death.

Phases of grief come and go, and thank God that phase went somewhere! Many months later I realized my first thoughts when approaching a blank page were not of the profound and unexpected loss of days behind me, but on the days ahead of me. I’d found a bit of strength and leaned on it heavily. The number of journal entries increased and soon I was writing little essays on life’s ups and downs with humorous snippets about rebounding from tragedy. The shift could only be described as a gradual appreciation for upcoming adventure. Yes! The gratitude list expanded!

Now, another phase has blown in like a roaring freight train. A new love miraculously appeared early in the year (2014) but the relationship failed before year end. Solid ground split open and I temporarily fell back into an abyss both familiar and unwanted. Grief, heartbreak, denial, and anger all replayed, the weight of emotional upheaval cracking layers of veneer I’d worked so hard to apply and cure. I lost all focus. The damage weakened my confidence and trust in others.

So how can I be grateful? The keyword above is “temporarily.” This phase, too, shall pass. This time around, based on experience, I know that for sure. The task remains of holding on to that certainty and carrying it forward each day. I’m back to hunting for gratitude and writing down what little bits I find.

Grief is complicated, the healing process not a linear progression as some believe. Moments of self-doubt and raw emotions bear down like a tsunami at unexpected times, receding only in whispers of hope. The trick is to grab onto any raft that floats by - faith, optimism, and humor - and hold on for dear life.

Gratitude is also complicated. The shiny penny doesn’t appear around every corner – unless you pay attention. After my husband’s death I walked several times a day for long periods to ease the pain of sitting still. I found a penny almost every time - on a sidewalk or street, even in the woods. Finding the next penny became my focus and one more thing to be grateful for. I must remember that small beginnings can turn the tide.

I recently saw these words: “Live fully, love fully, laugh fully, lose fully.” Wish I could attribute this to the author, who would hopefully understand their importance in being included here. I’ve been concentrating on “lose.” But Living, Laughing, and Loving are three big things that when placed on a scale far outweigh the one thing.

On a drive home from work it hit me – I needed another hard lesson on loss to get me writing after a lengthy hiatus, a break chosen not because I didn’t have anything to say but because I wanted to relax, to relish all the seemingly ordinary moments of just hanging out with him each evening - without adding more to my day’s work. I’d not done this with my husband much, and I regretted it.

Downtime exists in a different form now that he is gone. Shall I thank the Universe? Yes, if I want to live, laugh, and love more. Strength lies beneath the surface and it’s bubbling up and out. The truth is, though, I’m sick of having to be strong. Lucky for me, stubbornness runs in the family so internal voices force me to look around outside of myself and be more cognizant of many blessings. And write them down. At times when my focus blurs, I call upon the gods of persistence. Ha! I’ve just added “persistence” to my gratitude list today – it’s #18. Not a bad day!

Feeling lost, depressed, worried or a bit out of sorts? Keep a grateful journal for 30 days. Don’t quit. Write at least three things every day, more if you can. Don’t worry about what you write, just write. My wish is that you’ll feel a little better and find the process easier as the days go by, and that you’ll continue the writing beyond that first month. Let me know how you’re doing!

Website with an interesting title: http://whoamiwithouthim.com/

Never take your eye off the end result

This is Jake, my new best bud. His name became a source of delight among his human friends who greet him with "Hi! It's Jake from State Farm!" or "What are you wearing, Jake from State Farm?" He's a squirming bundle of love whenever he sees someone he knows. Jake is a McNab, a breed known for keen senses, intelligence, and the need to work. He lives with his humans and two horses on five acres near Washoe Lake.

Whenever I visit, I get real hugs with paws and legs wrapped around my neck. Then Jake brings me his frisbee. If I don't throw it for him, he tries again and again to focus my attention on that frisbee. If I ignore his efforts, he drops the frisbee at my feet and stares at it with the same level of concentration observed in Madison Bumgarner during the World Series. If the frisbee is anywhere in the vicinity, Jake's eyes are on it.

I'm a bit envious of his single mindedness. Too often I allow myself to become distracted from one of my 'soul' pursuits - pulling all the words out of my head and onto paper. But, humans are not dogs of course. We must actually go to work, take care of the place we call home, shop for groceries, pay bills, spend time with family and friends, etc. But, darn, I am so good at finding other reasons to go off on tangents that eat up spare time. I too often allow my mind's eye to roam away from my 'frisbee.'

So here's my renewed commitment to the end result - knowing that I'll have to write something on this blog regularly. Perhaps if I drop all the notebooks filled with bits and pieces of stories at my feet and stare at them I'll think of Jake's determination. Hoping to bring smiles and even laughter to those who find me here.