Perceptions And Expectations

I’ve recently had a few powerful reminders about perception and expectation. Not only those of others, but my own. It is human nature to perceive things and people as we wish them to be, and not always as they are. Last week, something happened in my life which was downright scary, but in the end, it was okay and I wasn’t physically harmed. I definitely learned a valuable lesson in regards to awareness of my surroundings though.

There was another lesson in this experience…which was that my perceptions needed a bit of work. It hasn’t been easy to see how I had colored certain parts of my life with expectations. I’m definitely not perfect, and perfection isn’t my expectation of others. All of us, including me, have our perceptions shaded by our prior experiences and conditioning. One of the things which I strive for is to observe what style of compassion people who matter to me need in their times of difficulty. No matter how hard I try to do this, I know that I have fallen short of my mark on many occasions. While right now, I am evaluating certain things, I remain aware of another inherent truth…which is that wishing for others to give us the type of love that we need…is an expectation.

Our perceptions of others, as well as our expectations are mirrors of what is going on in ourselves. They are expressions of what we are looking for…what our hearts are asking for…the vision of what our desires would look like manifested. What I am slowly working my way around to is allowing my disappointment resulting from my perceptions and expectations to fade away and integrate the lesson. Right now, the lesson seems to be that I am learning what my soul is asking for more of. As far as expecting that from particular people…that is the part which I am working on releasing. We all know on some level that expectations of others are not the key to successful relationships. Knowing the type of people we wish to be near and surrounding ourselves with them is.

Now that this understanding has time to more fully sink into my being, I’ll be able to focus on opening myself up more for the things which make my heart happy. To attract that which fills me with joy. It isn’t my wish to be disappointed in others. My wish is to allow myself to focus on the good things which drive me to be at my best…to live at my best…and to allow those things to come in. I’m opening the door wide, and trusting.

Today, I have two questions which we’d all be wise to ask of ourselves…and answer honestly so that we can be more empowered and free. (Yes, knowing the answers is extremely freeing…even if initially a bit painful.) No need to answer them here. This is definitely a personal thing, and my desire is simply to share and maybe help you to add to your own growth toolbox right along with me.

Are your perceptions working for your benefit and presenting you with realistic information?

Do you have expectations of others which are setting the stage for disappointment?

Even if your answers lead you to conclude that things are not as you’d like for them to be, please don’t play the blame game…on yourselves or on others. Make a plan which will lead you in the right direction for yourself.

Much love,

Tracy

Farewell To My Father

I went back to this creative writing prompt site for more inspiration. At some point, I’ll get back into the dream theme, but for today I felt like something different.

Write a poem using all of the following words: dim, hinge, dingy.

Even though that place was never my favorite

There once felt like there was life there

The last time I returned, it was to say goodbye

Places at your home which used to feel lively had gone dim

You were still present, waiting to say goodbye too

Yet your energy had already begun to leave the space

As soon as I walked in, I noticed how dingy everything had become

It had been a few years since I had entered that door

The hinge now rusted, when once it moved smoothly

While it was always far from perfect there, your strong energy permeated it

Brought the place to life, with signs of your work everywhere

Knowing that I would never return to this place was bittersweet

For the memories contained within the walls, and in your fields were both light and dark

More than anything, I’ll remember the sight of your white hair shining in the sun

As you rode your red tractor in circles mowing the field, or worked in your garden

Goodbyes are never easy, especially when they are forever

 

 

Chains

One summer evening when I was around five years old my grandmother, mother, sister, and I were sitting outside on the patio which was off to the side of the house. It sat at the edge of the yard and looked down over the hill onto the driveway. I remember this night being pretty dark, and that there was no moonlight illuminating the yard. It was pretty late, so my dad was already in bed and there was no light coming out of the windows on the side of the house that we were on.

We were all sitting there, and I was listening to them all talking, every once in a while chiming in or being included in the conversation. After a while, everyone got quiet. We were just listening to the sounds of the night…owls, crickets, and other night insects. All of us loved the sounds of the night in late Summer. The lightning bugs had already come and gone and it was almost Fall. The air was deliciously cool, and I can remember starting to feel sleepy. My mom said something about going in soon, but no one moved yet. We fell back into silence.

As my eyes grew heavier, the night air was ripped open by the sound of something metal being dragged in the gravel of the driveway below where we sat. I remember sitting straight up and looking around at my family questioningly. The dark was not my favorite thing to begin with. Add to it loud sounds which shouldn’t be there, and it took me all of five seconds to become scared. I remember my sister putting her arm around me. The night had gone silent again, but a few seconds later the loud sound of something metal being dragged through the rocks resumed…louder and closer. Whatever it was seemed to be making its way up the hill toward the yard.

We all got up, and were making our way toward the house. The noise had stopped and started again. My mother called out, asking if anyone was there. In reply, the metal sound picked up its pace and was growing rapidly closer. By this time we were almost to the car port, which meant that we were at the top of the driveway. While the night was dark, our eyes had adjusted and we all peered down. I didn’t see anything. I looked over at the rest of my family and they were all looking at one another wide-eyed and shrugging.

All of a sudden, the loud dragging resumed again and it had reached the top of the driveway. It didn’t take us long to make it from where we stood into the house. My mother locked the door behind us and she ran to wake my father. He did come out of their bedroom, but when we had all told him what had happened, he replied with his typical response.

“Well, whatever it was is out there and we are all in here”.

With that, he turned on his heel and went back to bed. My mother was obviously frustrated. My grandmother and sister looked bewildered and confused. I was just scared. They all came into my bedroom and talked to me, alternating between assuring me that everything was okay and telling me silly stories. After a while I fell asleep. It probably wasn’t long after they left my room that I woke up. I could hear them talking out in the kitchen. The one part of that conversation which is still with me was my grandmother talking about the curse on the land and the evil things which lived there.

To this day, I still have no explanation for what might have been making the sound making its way up the driveway on that dark summer night. My grandmother passed the next year, and my mother has been gone for 15 years. Every once in a while, before she passed, mom would recount that story, but even she never came up with an explanation for what could have been making so much noise, yet remain unseen. My dad would never discuss any of the things that happened there and he is now gone too. While my sister and I talk about some of the stuff that happened in and around that house, and it’s good to have someone to share the experiences with, I think that she would agree that more openness on the part of the older people in our family would have been nice.

Make It So

My new favorite mantra comes from Captain Jean Luc Picard, from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” (for those of you who do not recognize the phrase). Why am I writing about this? Well, as a person who is a big proponent of being masters of our destiny, as well as taking control and responsibility over and for our lives…this phrase just fits…across the board. Even when thinking about the law of attraction…it just fits.

Before I go any further, I have to say that I have been a lifelong resister of the Star Trek franchise for bizarre personal reasons…that is, until a new friend suggested that we watch some of it together because he was pretty sure that I’d love it. I scoffed because I was certain that I would not, but opened my mind (a little) and gave it a go. Now, here I am several months later counting down the days until I can binge on a few episodes with my friend on the weekends. To my friend, if he reads this…thanks for properly introducing me to Star Trek and helping me to put even more stamps on my geek card. 🙂

Now, back to the phase itself…”Make it so”…three little words, three powerful words. For any of you who have been working with breaking through the barriers of “I can’t”, “it’s impossible”, “I’m not good enough”, “this is a pipe dream”, seriously try out using those three words as a mantra. Not just as something to say, but as something that you fully believe in every fiber of your being. I found these words to be a missing link in my personal “attraction” work. I’ve been keeping a gratitude journal for years, I’ve meditated, worked with varying principles of the law of attraction philosophy…and have had wonderful measures of success.

So, where’s the missing link you might ask? I found it hard to maintain the ever positive, never wavering way of thinking…being constantly mindful of self talk…etc. As many people share with me, there are parts of myself which I’ve already been working on for decades and will likely always need to keep tabs on. Those pieces of me have created disconnects at times because of how ingrained certain ways of thinking about things can be…how insidious old patterns, thoughts, and loops can be. I call them loops because there are some things which were so profound/traumatic that they seem to circle back for yet another go around. These types of patterns are like layers of an onion, which get peeled back more and more as the years go on. I used to think of this as problems resurfacing, but now I’ve come to view this as a deeper layer of healing.

I digress…make it so…those three words for me just feel more powerful. They aren’t like a wish. It isn’t like stating a desire. “Make it so” is a statement…determined…confident. There’s nothing wishy-washy about those words. When I think or say these words, I am certain that something can be done…that something can come into my life…that I have it in me (not only the ability, but the strength and endurance) to be an active participant in creating the life that feels like ‘me’. It may or may not have the same impact for you as it does for me, but hey…sharing is how we sometimes find as well as impart nuggets of helpfulness. Below is a YouTube clip to show the inflection and and unwavering certainty with which these words are spoken in the series. Do you have a catch phrase or mantra that works as powerfully for you?

 

Nocturnal Fantasy

Today I decided to go to a prompt site to look for inspiration. I found the prompt below here and decided to run with it. There may even be a series of poems inspired by this particular prompt. If so, they won’t all be in the same theme.

Write a poem based on a dream you had. Try to reproduce the sensations of the dream.

In the night you come to me, causing me to wake with a yearning for your touch

My skin feeling almost seared in the places your hands have brushed

Being awakened to an impassioned cry, realizing that it came from my lips

Lips which only moments before were being explored by yours with such fervor

How can the bed feel so cold when just moments ago you were there?

Heating the very air with the rising tensions of your love

Leaving me wanting more, craving the release at the end of the crescendo

The dream is so beautiful, yet amazingly cruel, for ’tis but a dream

And I lay here alone, begging the night to either let me return to sleep

Or let me hear a knock on the door, for that’s how it always begins

A knock on the door, which I answer to be swept into your consuming embrace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gremlins In The Grass

This story occurred on the property where I grew up, but did not happen to me personally. Since it is not my tale, I will only refer to the person by “him” or “he”. The events in this story were relayed to me the night that it all happened. My age at the time was somewhere around 12 years old.

It was pretty late one night…somewhere around ten at night, when he came back to my parents’ house after being out for an evening with friends. They had come to pick him up, and had dropped him off down by the main road. We lived out in the country and had a long driveway. The lane on the way up to the house was surrounded on both sides by two small fields. It was midsummer and the grass was tall in the fields. For some reason, no one had kept them mowed or planted gardens in them that year.

My father was already in bed, but my mother and I were in the living room watching TV when he came running into the house. He slammed the kitchen door and practically dove down the two steps into the living room. My mom and I turned to look at him. He was out of breath, and it was obvious that he had been running. His eyes were wide with fear and he kept saying the words, “They kept peeking their heads up over the weeds. I could see their red eyes”.

You have to understand that there were no streetlights near my house or even for as far as the eye could see on the main road, so it wasn’t that there was a source of light reflecting off of the eyes of animals in the weeds. Mom asked him to calm down for a second and tell us what had happened. He went back into the kitchen, came back in with a glass of water, and sat down on the chair across from the couch. The story that he told us that night was that his friends had dropped him off down at the end of the driveway, and that he had been walking up to the house.

On his way past the fields, he said that he heard a noise, like someone trying to get his attention. “Psst”. When he looked over to the field on the right where that sound had come from, he said that he saw several creatures which stood around three feet tall standing up in the weeds, looking at him with red glowing eyes. Next, he said that they had lowered themselves back down into the tall grass and seemingly disappeared. At first, even though it freaked him out, he said that he dismissed it, thinking that his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

He resumed walking, when the same noise…psst…came from the field on the other side of the lane. Turning to look, he saw the same thing in the field on the left side. Several of these three foot tall creatures with red glowing eyes. He said that the outline of their bodies were thin and that their heads looked large in proportion to their bodies. What happened next is what sent him running the rest of the way to the house.

He said that it sounded like he was hearing whispers all around him. So, he looked back to the field on the other side of the driveway and there were even more of them there than he had originally seen. His description was that the creatures on both sides of the road kept raising and lowering themselves up and down in the tall grass while whispering something that he couldn’t understand. Even when they lowered themselves down, he said that he could still see their glowing eyes and it seemed like more of them were appearing. It was right after he relayed his story that my mother sent me to bed so that they could talk privately. I wish I could have been a fly on that wall.

To my knowledge, this was the one and only sighting of these particular creatures on the property. For as little sleep as I got that night, I can only imagine how little he got! There had been sightings of other things…but those are tales for another day.