Who's judging your potential?

Do you know what you're capable of - what enormous, amazing contributions you can make to life? Has someone told you you couldn't? Or could? When's the last time someone told you that you could achieve great things?

Just recently, someone told me they believed I was meant to do great things. I can't recall anyone ever believing so clearly in me and my potential. It was humbling. And overwhelming. In fact, I wasn't sure I agreed.

I've come to realize how easily - quickly - we judge another person's potential. As if it can be measured. Or predicted.

Every company does succession planning - identifies those "up and comers" who have potential to move up the corporate ladder. It's a critical step any organization must take to ensure its continued growth and success. They won't succeed if they leave it up to the fates.

At the same time, it hits me that people have sat around tables and judged my potential - could she manage people? how many? how high can she go? how valuable is she? what's holding her back? and are those things worth trying to fix in order for her to move up?

I was in one of those meetings recently, and I was asked to make those judgments about other people. I felt hypocritical judging others, when I'm just now realizing how much potential I have. I've only just begun seeing what's been holding me back and where I could possibly go.

So, how can others judge my potential when I'm just beginning to fathom how much greater I can be? How can I judge others?

It's human nature, I suppose. Life is easier when we can categorize people. Make judgements. It gives us a framework from which to interact with those people. Companies need to do it so they can target investments and efforts in building people.

Yet - are we doing it for ourselves? Why do I wait for a company to tell me that I have potential - or what level of potential I have? And why wait for them to decide how to invest in helping me reach that potential?

I shouldn't complain that someone else is evaluating my potential when I haven't even done it. It's easier to judge other people, and easier to decide what training someone needs.

I should be donig my own assessment and identifying my own potential for greatness. Not when it comes to work - but when it comes to why I'm here and what contributions I want to make while I'm here. Then, I have to do something with it - make those investments to reach my potential.

It's a whole other story to judge myself - that takes a pretty significant amount of honesty. And some conversations with the people in my life who know me best - my friend who keeps telling me to move to Europe. The one who says I should have kids whether I get married or not. The one who remembers the passion I had for journalism. The ones who have watched with sadness as I've shrunk from my potential.

It also requires a sense of meaning and purpose - what drives me every day? and at the end of my life, what will I want to have contributed? what would I be proud to have said I achieved?

This quote from author and philospher Og Mandino hits me hard as I think of my potential - and the responsibility I have to identify it and then achieve it:

"I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain, not to shrink to a grain of sand. Henceforth will I apply ALL my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy."

I've been shrinking. Well, not physically unfortunately! I wish that were the case. But, in my mind and my work and my personal passions, I've been shrinking. Probably for at least a decade. Because all those things I'm most proud of - who I was when I was most proud of myself (when I was audacious) - happened a long, long time ago.

I wasn't planning where my path should go or looking for a higher purpose in a destination. And in the end, I walked away from who that woman was and who she was becoming.

I'm starting to look up again and ask those questions about why I might be here, and what greatness should I be striving for? What path will take me back to that woman - yet even greater?

I'm just starting my journey up that mountain. I can't leave it to fate - otherwise, I'll get off track again and my path will go crooked. I have to keep laying those stones in my path - but I have to take those steps deliberately and consistently.

I'm not thinking it'll be easy - but the view from the top will be breathtaking.

Harlequin heartache and faith in love

So I'm dating again. Two first dates in one week, in fact. And it feels good - to be meeting new people, expanding my circle, feeling attractive to someone of the opposite sex.

What feels really good, though, is that I really don't care if I'm dating - because I'm good where I'm at. This spot in my path - you know, that path I have no clue yet where it leads - is a comfortable one. It's a healthy one. The path isn't all about finding 'the one.' It's about finding myself. And that's so much more nourishing.

Man, how many years did I read Harlequin Romance novels and yearn for that one man - the one who was my end-all-be-all? Those were some messed up stories - and probably a big reason why for years (um, yeah, til about 5 months ago) I kept thinking some man was going to come save me. When I was first divorced, I was so desperate to find 'the one.' The one who would make life easier. Who would save me. Those books gave me belief in love, but a really fucked up idea of what it was, what it looked like and how it felt.

I'm the only one who can save me, and that's my priority right now. (though, yes, when my toilet breaks, a man to fix it would be nice - but I can pay for that!)

So today, I get it. Though I recognize I probably still have lots and lots to learn. I get that I can be alone and be okay. I get that I can date or not. I get that I can simply spend time with people of the opposite sex and know that it's good for the soul, even if it never leads to love. It's not easy, but it's what is healthy. And it feels so good to be in this place on my path.

I just want to spend time with good people. Be with people who nourish my soul. And I would hope I nourish theirs.

What feels even better is knowing that I still have faith in love - I'm blessed that the last man I loved was a good man, and that he gave me renewed hope in men. And in love. That is a gift. Not many women are lucky enough to leave a relationship with their faith intact.

And, out of that chapter ending, I also have a better sense of what love means, looks like and feels like - and what it doesn't. And what I deserve. Now, when I say all that, some might roll their eyes - I'm not naive. I still have lots to learn and will fall back to that insecure place every now and then - that's life, right?

But it feels so good to believe good men are out there. And to be spending time with them. They won't be on a white horse but they will respect me for having saved myself.

Someday I'll be in love again - and until then, it feels so good to just be open to knowing new people and expanding my circle. Where there's no drama. No desperate need to find that Harlequim romance. No flipping of the pages, moving from chapter to chapter in search of that happy ending.

Because my path is about so much more than that now - so we'll see whose path might parallel mine, at what point in my life, and for how long. Either way, I'm going to keep moving forward and keep nourishing my soul. That's the best I can do right now.

Walking my path

I've read so many impactful quotes and stories in the last several months that all relate to what path we're on in life. There's the quote that says even when we're walking on a dark path, we are still progressing - we just can't see the progress yet. And the one that mentions how some people are meant to only join us on our path for a short period of time. And then this one, which I just read, about finding the heart in the path:

“Anything is one of a million paths. Therefore, a warrior must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if he feels that he should not follow it, he must not stay with it under any conditions. His decision to keep on that path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition. He must look at every path closely and deliberately. There is a question that a warrior has to ask, mandatorily: ‘Does this path have a heart?’” ~ Carlos Castaneda from The Wheel of Time

All three of these are bouncing in my head now, as I try to visualize my path - where it's coming from, what it looks and feels like today, and where it's taking me (or the possibilities of where it could lead). And they're all related - because I have come to realize that some times, the path with a heart is indeed the one where you're in the dark. It's when you're the most lost but also when you find yourself. And, if you're lucky, you have friends whose paths are paralleling yours - offering you comfort when you most need it.

My path has been quite dark the last several months. Yet there have been amazing glimmers of light - mostly because of the people who are walking beside me. And because of what I've learned about my soul in that darkness.

I've learned some of the greatest lessons in life when someone else's path has suddenly disappeared my from sight. They were there - then all of a sudden gone. Those events caused me to re-evaluate what path I was on. I needed to better understand myself, that other person, and what meaning there was in our paths having crossed - and what meaning and lessons should I take from their absence?

Our path isn't set in stone - not cleared, prepped and paved like the highway. We're laying the stones with every step we take. But, we may have a destination in mind that helps guide our steps. And at any time, we can change our path. We can look at all those other pathways we run across - the ones Castaneda says you must scrutinize - and we can decide to choose one of those if we want.

Either way, it's our path. We own it. We own the good, bad and ugly that it might run into. We own the choices that must be made along the way to either 'stay the course' or find new routes we want to take. We own the responsibility for finding a path with 'heart.' And, we own the baggage we carry with us.

It's really about our journey, isn't it? That's why people talk about a path. Because we are on a journey to become our best self - all the while giving the best of ourselves to the rest of the world.

I've never been a person who maps out that path - who has 5-year or 10-year goals. I certainly don't want to fence myself in to a single, inflexible path that can't be changed. At the same time, I see how easily my path wanders in hopes of finding the right direction.

I've had three-plus decades of just moving from path to path, trying one out, then another. Flitting about. With no destination in mind.

If, in another 30 years, I want to look back at where I've been and feel good with how I've lived and where I've been, I have some tough decisions to make. I have to decide where I want my path to lead, what kind of journey I want to have, and what kinds of people I want sharing that journey. I have to understand those things, or I'll be taken off course by the wrong people or the wrong decisions.

I'm guessing it's not easy - otherwise, we'd all have figured it out by now. Until I've decided on a direction and created the framework for my journey, I can still ask that simple question - "Does this path have a heart?"

For now, at least, that's a good guide for my journey.

That's Life

So I was babysitting my friend's three kids tonight and we played the board game "Life." Remember that one? I always joked how I chose money over kids when I played it years ago. I loved choosing the career path.

It was eye opening to play it with three kids under 8. There were all those 'forced' stops along the way - to get married, buy your first home, decide on college or career, choose family or fun. And each time, when faced with a choice - by that ominous orange space - the young boy would ask "Which one's best?"

Ah, if only there was an answer! Or at least the kind of simple answer he - or we - would prefer. There is no easy answer.

Then we came to one of the final choices - taking the 'risky' path or the path for 'family time.' I didn't hesitate - because in the board game of life, the risky path doesn't really have any negative consequences. You just win or lose - but get to pack it up and pull it out to play again some other time. This time, I actually won big taking the risky path (but of course, only by filing a lawsuit against said young boy).

I haven't taken the risky path in real life in a few years. When I have, the rewards have been big - but usually years away. Lots of heartache and tissue boxes away. Spending a summer in DC. A summer in Florida. I gave my two weeks notice at a job in Moses Lake after 2 weeks it was so bad. Left Bellevue to move to the Tri-Cities for a man. Married the man. Left the man. Sheewh!

But here I am - walking my path a bit wiser with amazing people and opportunities around me. Wonder where the other paths would have taken me?

All three kids refused to take the risky path. I don't think I was able to describe it - or its potential rewards - in a way that satisfied them. They took the less risky path. In the end, I was the one who won the game ironically.

So what lessons did I try to explain to them when we were done? I mean, that three kids will actually hear and understand? That sometimes you start out planning on one career but end up with another - and in the oldest girl's case, her final career was the one she truly desired.

That how much money you make doesn't really make a difference in the end - though by the end of the game, they were all sucked into snickering about how little money the others had. I tried ...

What else? That sometimes you don't get what you want. Or in the order you want. But, if you keep going and playing the game, you can get what you want some day. It will come in time.

Sometimes, it sucks. And that's life (well, I didn't necessarily say that!)

But what do you say when they say they didn't want to get married - guess the game of Life hasn't met the feminist yet. Or the woman who has a child of her own. Or same-sex couples who marry and may have children of their own.

Either way, there's always an orange spot on the path of life that forces you to choose - this way or the other way? And regardless of which you choose, you have no way of knowing where you'll end up.

No way of knowing which path is best.

We just don't get to pack it up and put it away for another day.

Our greatest fear

This poem was shared with me today - and I thought it was worth sharing. Definitely worth pondering. Read it aloud - that had a profound effect on me.

Our Greatest Fear

it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

Someone asked me last week to do something that would have meant me "shrinking" - being less than myself. I'm so glad I resisted. I knew it wasn't good for me - I just hadn't realized why or how much until I read this poem.

I love the thought that by us each shining as brightly as we can, we help those around us do so.

Those silly building blocks

Are you a control freak? I am in so many ways. More than I want to admit. I like to have control - know what something will be like, make it the way I want, be able to predict people's behavior. Especially when it comes to love - give me absolutes, will-love-forevers, happily-ever-afters. Whatever. Just give me certainty.

One of the most profound passages I've read in the last few months was about not having that control - and it made me laugh. In a "yep, ain't that life" way. And it really made me question just how much control I should ever expect to have.

Author Thomas Moore writes about the passion of a relationship, and how when the soul is involved, you have no choice but to follow your heart. To just go with it. To stay close to the fantasty of all it represents to you. Because you just never know.

Then he says "You can trust (those emotions) - not to arrange life the way you want it - but to arrange the elements of your soul in a way that will offer rich life in the future."

Think about that - you're not going to get what you've dreamed of, but you're going to get a soul that will make it possible to have the best life ever.

It made me laugh because I used to be there - I thought he was THE ONE. THIS IS IT. I was arranging life the way I wanted it. Into a neat, tidy package. With no thought to my soul.

I was so naive. I was so hooked on that fantasy. That package. And yet, when it burst, and after the aftermath was over, those elements of my soul - building blocks - started falling into place and creating a new structure. A newly formed soul.

Isn't that just how life is? When we think we have control, when we think "ah, this is it!" -- that's when it nails us, smacks us upside the head. And we realize the goal is not a tidy package. The goal is a well-structured soul.

I truly doubt I have much control over how well-forged my soul is. How well those elements fall into place. I might arrange them one way, then the fates might re-arrange them.

I don't see this as a problem - just a new reality. Instead of focusing so much on controlling how things are or how we want them to be, should we be asking - how do we make each of those elements stronger? So that no matter how they're arranged, it's a solid structure?

As much as I laugh at that passage, I really do like it. I laugh at it because, in spite of me and my attempts of control, it's true. Regardless of how much I worry, there are forces beyond my control. And that sometimes, when I think life has just smacked me upside the head, maybe it's for good reason.

Because I look back at where I was several months ago - when I had it so neaty arranged in my fantasy - and I see how naive I was. How little I understood. About us, him - me.

And now I can just sit back and feel those elements being re-arranged. Moved around. Creating a stronger structure. In spite of myself.

Forgive me for not forgiving sooner

It was odd, filling out the Facebook "I have come to realize" Notes and coming across the statement about my dad. Off the top of my head, I simply wrote "I have come to realize my dad ... was just human."

And, with that, I forgave him. Let go of the anger. Finally realized that after years of angst, pain, disappointment, whatever I thought he was - he was just human.

I wish I'd come to realize that before he'd passed away. That was last summer - on the day he died, I actually wrote in my journal that I didn't know how to have a conversation with him. He was 20 feet away waiting for me to interact with him, and I struggled. There was just too much baggage. And it was too complicated. A shared episode of Stargate or Star Trek was the best we could do to connect (which might explain my love of sci-fi).

It's actually kind of funny - for years I railed against he and my mom for not doing better. For abandoning our emotional needs. Thousands of journal pages on it. Hours and hours of talks with girlfriends.

And, in the end, it was ironically simple - our parents are just human. They do their best. And it might suck. Be far from what we really needed. But in the end, it was their best.

It was when I saw him in that hospital bed that I realized how fragile he was. How maybe all those negative feelings were misplaced. The tallest, biggest man I'd ever known, and he was broken. It was when it was over that I finally asked questions. Really tried to understand him.

And you know, thank God I never had as hard a life as he did. Or as my mom did. Here I write about trying to find meaning at age 37 - yep, I'm lucky it's my biggest problem. And by my age, my mom was bankrupt with three kids, no education, an ex living on the other coast, and a boyfriend whose ex chased her with a gun. I'd better be careful how much I judge.

When my dad was 3 or 4, his mother told him to just play with the dog all day - the dog will make sure you get home, she'd say. Really? Talk about a need to call CPS. Of course he didn't know how to interact with people. He pretty much had the dog. He still found a way to be funny and ornery. By 37, both his parents had died, he'd watched two dreams screach to a halt, had three kids when I'm not sure he ever wanted any. And was divorced.

The great thing about my dad - though of course I couldn't give him credit for this until now - is that at some point in his life, he realized he'd fucked up. He hadn't loved enough. Wasn't going to find any love if he kept going down that same messed up path.

So he changed. It pissed me off actually - why couldn't he change sooner? Why couldn't he be with us like he was with his new wife?

But, you know, at least he changed. I could continue to carry all that anger and tattered baggage, or just say Thank you, God, that he did change. At least he knew - even if he couldn't verbalize it - that his life could be better. He could be better.

He never asked forgiveness. Maybe he didn't care if he got it. Or he hoped by being better and different, that it would come in time.

At his service, I heard people who saw him every day at work talk about his big personality, dry wit and tough demeanor. Some of the things they said he was best known for - speaking his mind when no one else had the courage to - are the traits in myself I am most proud of. I just hadn't realized where I got them.

And actually, it reminded me of older men at my work who I have incredible respect for - maybe subconsciously they reminded me of the man I never knew well enough.

So regardless of what people can give us or what we can give others or what we expect of ourselves or others, we really are just human. It's not an excuse. It's not meant to trivialize.

But, ironically, at a time when we flail about looking for meaning and purpose and answers, maybe some answers are as easy as 'we're just human.'

Summer of Secret Service

Do you have one of those summers when you were younger that seems almost like a movie? When you look back, you feel this longing and pride, all at once? Mine was the summer I turned 21. I was in DC on a fellowship taking classes at Georgetown and interning in a Congressional office. I was euphoric - I was the only kid west of the Mississippi to get the fellowship, so of course my ego was huge! And I was young, thin and single in a powerhouse town.

It was the summer I dated a Secret Service agent. Almost caused an international incident, according to some. And it's the summer I look back and think of one word - audacious. I was audacious - bold, unafraid, alive.

I also was pretty stupid - not very aware of my own issues, my own insecurities, my own limitations. I had my challenges in my life by then, but I'd come out of them stronger, not beaten down.

But, man, how good that summer was for my ego! I practically glided across the Capitol every day as I headed to work.

The highlight was meeting Chuck. My Secret Service agent. He was 40, handsome, funny. He made me feel so important - protected. When we walked together, he always had his arm around me, almost pulling me in at the same time he was pushing harm away.

So romantic! At the time, it was just so cosmopolitan, almost, to say I was dating him. It was so cool! But, honestly, he taught me a lot about life.

The first lesson was how a simple exchange with a stranger could brighten both of your days. When we walked along the pier, he'd comment about people's boats to them, ask how their day was. I now realize - if in his job, he rarely interacted but only watched, did he try to make up for it on his off hours? We can feed off of those interactions if we let ourselves. Invite more life in.

I also learned how important confidence is - and how visible it is, or isn't, to others. Chuck once commented that I walked so confidently, like I always had a destination and a goal in mind. A place to be.

I did. I had big dreams at the time. And I could feel them pulling. I'm not sure what happened. I think I might have chickened out. Maybe just let the easy life take over. Do what everyone else did - even if it wasn't what I wanted or needed in my core.

And the night Chuck called to cancel our last date - my last night in town - he told me to never stop smiling - because I had a beautiful smile.

I need to remember all of those lessons - to make the most of the little moments, to walk confidently and always have a destination in mind, and most of all, despite the 'life' that will happen, to never stop smiling.

I know I haven't lived up to those lessons. Maybe to varying degrees. But I was thinking of Chuck last week and remembering how much he believed in me. And how much I believed in myself at the time.

I was so audacious - walking up to him in that bar and delivering my famous line "What've you got in that attache case?" Dancing with a prince from the Middle East (yep, that was the beginning of the 'incident'). Acting as if I owned that town. Passionately debating big issues. Stretching my mind in class. Meeting people from around the world.

I miss her some times - that audacious girl. Though she comes out every once in a while still. I think the challenge as we age is how do we hold on to some of that boldness - the courageous, not stupid, part - while being more mature? How can we be wiser without being wimpier? Childlike yet confident without cynical?

I wish Chuck had taught me that lesson. It would be nice to have an easy answer now.

Boundary-worthy

I've never been good at setting boundaries. Even recognizing that they need to be set or that they're lacking Instead, I go along in a relationship - love, work - and at some point, I become frustrated - sick and tired. And it's usually because in my heart, there was a line I didn't want someone to cross - and they crossed it.

Yet I never told them the line was there. So I gave in, didn't make a big deal out of it. Never set those boundaries. So there went more time. Then came more frustration. And it hurt us all in the end.

Boundaries represent how we see ourselves and what we're worthy of. -- what define us in some ways. They tell people who we believe we are and want to be - and how we expect to be treated.

I've rarely set them. Certainly not proactively before someone crossed the line. At those times, I've given in - given up my independence, my spontaneity, my self-respect, my health, my pursuit of meaning. I became a shrunken version of myself - willing to compromise on so many things (big and small) that I couldn't recognize myself.

In my last relationship, I was so afraid of losing him that I never set boundaries. I compromised on so many things that really were important to me - even when he didn't ask me to! It's almost like I did it eagerly. Like it proved how much I loved him. Unselfish, right?

I made the preservation of my relationship more important than the preservation of myself. Of who I am at my core. I get how wrong that was. I'm realizing how much time and energy it takes to find myself again.

I have come to realize that I'm worthy of boundaries - and that they will actually help, not hurt, my relationships. They won't limit me or those people in my life. They'll provide enough structure - and clarity on what is most important to me - that we should be able to flourish within those boundaries.

It will take time - and work. I have to identify and understand what boundaries are most important to me. And what it will look like when someone crosses them. And how many chances they get before they're 'out' for good.

I guess it's like parents with children - you set those boundaries because you love them. You know this requires more work but it's what will make them the best people they can be.

Since I'm ultimately responsible for myself (I can't ask my mom to baby me anymore!), I have to do the hard work of setting and enforcing boundaries.

It may not be fun or easy but it's what I'm worthy of.

A lion's roar

I've been doing hot (Bikram) yoga for more than four months now. Yoga is counterintuitive to begin with, at least for those of us in modern society. While it's supposedly the natural movement and range of motion for your body, it's crazy. And then make the room 100 degrees, and you have a group of insane people.

And I'm one of them - who is all the more crazy because I find an incredible amount of self-awareness and peace when I'm twisting like a pretzel balanced on my toes with sweat pooling in my ears.

So I was in one of these insanity postures a few weeks ago when a swell of anger crashed through me - anger at my last love. The one who left me - who wasn't strong enough to make us work.

I was screaming at him in my head. Cursing at him. The anger was overwhelming.

But honestly, I wasn't mad at him. I was angry at me. Ticked off at myself. Furious. Fed up.

Furious for being so crushed when he left. Weak. For not seeing it coming. For spending the last year of our relationship more focused on making it work than on asking why it wasn't. For doing the same thing in my marriage - believing it could be more. For not setting boundaries - not telling him he couldn't call me a bitch. For not leaving him when he did.

I'm angry at how long it took me to see the light - and how much pain there was along the way. That I could have avoided. If I'd just been smarter. More insightful.

This truth hurts. But, the other truth is that rage can be a catalyst for improvement. If we can channel the anger, we can make good from it.

That is what I'm hoping to do.

I love the quote from Susan Anderson's "The Journey from Abandonment to Healing" where she talks about the mighty roar a lion gives when he feels threatened. She says "Baring his teeth, the lion masks this fear as strength. His roar is an assertion of power, signifying his expectation of triumph."

I absolutely dig that - the expectation of triumph. It speaks to confidence in one's capabilities - that in a fight, they'd have superior skills. And it implies a faith in the outcome - that heart of the lion you hear about.

So - if I want to channel anger toward action, I have to know: what do I fear? and what expectation do I have?

I fear more lost time. I am afraid that I'll repeat my mistakes - and that truly would be a mistake.

I fear not progressing. Not becoming the best person I can be. Of looking back and knowing I didn't do everything I could to forge my soul. Of not contributing all I can to this life.

I do fear not ever finding that someone who I believe I will spend the rest of my life with. And, I fear not being strong enough to be alone if that is indeed my fate.

I fear I'll never repack my baggage to be lighter. That it'll only get heavier, if I don't manage it right.

With that said, what do I expect? What does triumph look like to me? When I roar (I am a Leo, you know), where is my heart?

I have an expectation of myself that I will learn from my lessons (I can't call them mistakes if they truly were part of my journey). I expect that I will continue seeking answers. That when the answers come easy, I'll make sure I'm not just fooling myself. I expect my soul will become a beautiful, solid, vibrant core that is much like the heart of a lion.

I do expect to find someone I will fall madly in love with - I'm too much of a romantic to not expect it. But, I will make sure when it does happen that I will work hard for a balanced, boundaried relationship.

And because it could be decades before it happens, I won't sit and wait. I expect to live as much life as I can every day. To appreciate every small moment - how fallen leaves look like a sheet of gold on the grass. How precious the unconditional love of a pet is.

Finally, I expect to triumph over my baggage. It IS mine, after all. It's mine to carry. I can't leave it behind. But I can repack it to be smaller. I can make my soul so strong that the baggage feels much lighter to carry. And I can let it make me smarter. Stronger.

Mightier, like that lion.

Awakening

'Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks within, awakens.' - Carl Jung

I read this and loved it - for what it made me envision. I certainly am not living it. But if I look inside, what does that mean? what does that look like?

It made me think today of the Facebook Notes titled I Have Come To Realize. It was a Notes I filled out a couple months ago. But I can see the linkage to today. Very easily. So some of my next posts will be filling out those realization posts - what did I learn? Or hope I had? Or wished I had but admittedly, never did? What have you learned?

If I look back at my "Notes" on realizations, No. 9 stands out the most:
9. I've come to realize that certain people....come into your life for moments, weeks or years, and they all have an important role to play - if we let them. And then others, well, we just wish they'd go away ...

I truly do believe everyone is in our lives for a reason. Yet it could be decades - or never - before we realize the reasons why. I like this honestly. It makes me think that the two years I loved those boys - more than any children I've ever loved - would not be in vain. Would have purpose. Honestly, though, it may not have been for any reason. At least not on my end. But would it have made them feel more secure, more loved? I can only hope.

At the same time, it could have been for an amazing reason. I still recall in junior high my teacher - Mr Spears - asking if my homework was done. He knew it wasn't. I knew it wasn't. I knew I was at that very moment copying it from a girfriend, and I knew he knew ... so I said "no, I didn't do my homework."

It was a critical moment - what is more important - what is right, or what is easy?

Honestly, most of my troubles have been because I pushed for what was right, not what was easy.

Life isn't easy. We often make it harder than it needs to be.

But, if on a moment by moment basis, we can ask - what is the greater good? what is the purpose? Then we will always have something bigger - some meaning - we can align with.

I love those moments. When it feels everything else is hard. Yet those hard moments, are easy.

So, to those women - yes, typically women - who were there at that time yet don't realize -- Heather, for being the first friend I had who truly fell in love for life; to Sarah, who was tougher than any I knew while being so compassionate; to Shelley, whose was so loving and strived so hard to stay in touch; and to Jenn, who is more a part of me than anyone; my Tri-Cities triumphant friends; and my Highland girlfriends who kept me sane enough to survive the hardest, most Fucked-up times of my life so that life could only get better.

As I look within my heart,I pray I only meet more women like these who propel to even greater depths of understanding.

Despite all the serious talk. these are amazing women. Thank God have known and have benefited from knowing them.

Good Enough?

Soon after I separated from my ex-husband, a man asked me why I'd left him. And I said simply "It wasn't good enough." For some reason, that seemed to bother him. It's so esoteric. Hard to argue with. Hard to comprehend.

But it really came down to two questions - was it good anymore? and was it enough? In the end, the answers were both no - it wasn't.

That does beg the question - years after making that tough, rough decision to end acommitted relationship - WAS it good? and what IS enough? And how do you know?

Because they can actually be two different things. Ironically, it wasn't being married that caused me to think of those as two separate questions. It was - funny, not a marriage - but my first true love, who made me ask.

My last relationship was good. Really fucking good. I never doubted, when I woke up with his arms around me and his lips on my neck, that it was good. His breath against my neck. I never doubted when we drove to cut our Christmas trees in blizzards, that it was good - that I trusted every moment with him. That every breath, every glide of a hand in his, every shared, quiet, secretive smile, that it was good. Great, even. Maybe fantastic.

I just wish it had been enough. It wasn't. I hoped it was. I prayed it was. I waited months in vain pushing and wishing that it would be. Crying - sobbing- when I knew it wasn't yet wasn't prepared to admit it.

It wasn't. He couldn't love me enough. He wasn't strong enough to balance his baggage, open it up, scrutinize it and face it. Wasn't prepared to re-pack it. He couldn't do what needed to be done. Even though the prize was ME.

So, in the end - our end - I found a beginning. Because we weren't enough. We were good - damn, we were so FUCKING good - but just not enough. Now I look to a new beginning.

Do you know what I mean? When it's good, but something is still missing? Some part of your heart is gone, is torn, is pained, is wishing, is hoping, is CRAVING something more?

He can't give it. Who can? Can anyone?

Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure who can. Maybe no one. But I know it's not him. That beautiful, graceful, loving, kiss-my-neck of a man. Who said I gave him a thousand different kisses. Yet he couldn't give enough.

What IS enough? When is enough? How many questions do I need answers for in order to have a solution/answer to 'enough'?

This much I know - some day, some how, some way - it will be enough. I might be alone. I might be only with friends. I might find that Harlequin-romance, Danielle Steele (damn that steel!) romance that all my friends will envy.

Until then, what's enough? It's enough to know I am NOT settling. I am not pining (ok, a little). I am not wondering. I am not crying - well, I am, but not as much as before.

I AM living. And surviving. And thriving. And making this life -- my only life -- something amazing -- whether it's just me, me and family, me and those I have yet to meet.

But it will be enough. Moment by moment. Because while I may wish for more, strive for more, dream of more, it is only both good and enough when I am present -- 100 percent good and enough at the same time. Any man who wants to be with me - who deserves to be with me will be No. 1 GOOD and No. 2 ENOUGH.

And then, finally, when I share my life with someone, it will be both good and enough. Good enough.