Another step in my spiritual evolution - learning to acknowledge my intuition. Everyone has intuition, but instead of embracing it most people seem to avoid using it. It seems that in our culture it's acceptable to have intuition as an afterthought, such as, "I knew that was going to happen, I should have trusted my gut instinct." For some reason it seems slightly less acceptable to act on what our intuition is telling us to do about something in the future. Or maybe it's just the fact that we spend our lives ignoring our "gut instinct," so most of us have never really developed the ability to change the future with our intuition.
When my friend dropped me off at the airport yesterday, I had the urge to go to the bookstore. Normally I would have ignored it, because I have a stack of books at home that are waiting to be read. I've promised myself I won't buy another book until I get through that stack, but the urge to go to the bookstore was so strong I had to acknowledge it.
I usually gravitate towards the New Age/Spirituality section, but for some reason I stopped in front of religion. I scanned the book titles not really expecting to find anything, but when my eyes got to the title "Leaving Church", I felt like the book was jumping off the shelf at me. It was a paperback so it didn't really have a synopsis on the back cover, so I started reading the intro to find out what the book was about. I was still doubting my instinct that I had walked right to the book I was meant to have, because I still didn't feel like I needed a book. By the time I had finished the intro I had cried not once, but twice, because I felt like I was reading about myself. Now I had to trust myself and buy the book to read in private. Seeing a uniformed pilot in the airport crying does not normally instill confidence in passengers.
The book is about an Episcopal minister, who found her way to God (and herself) by giving up the priesthood. One of the things that made me cry was this quote, "You only need to lose track of who you are, or who you thought you were supposed to be, so that you end up lying flat on the dirt floor basement of your heart." It's the "who you thought you were supposed to be" that really got to me. From the time I was 17 years old, I've thought I was supposed to be a pilot. It's been my identity and how I define myself for over twenty years, but now I'm beginning to think there might be something more. In addition to or instead of a pilot, I'm not sure yet. I think my soul knows but my ego is still afraid to admit the truth.
I was reading the book in the gym this morning, and I had to come back up to the room because it made me cry again. Barbara had just decided to leave the priesthood, and she was quoting Walter Brueggemann, a scholar of the Hebrew bible. "The world for which you have been so carefully prepared is being taken away from you, by the grace of God."
I have very carefully prepared my entire adult life to be a pilot, but I still feel like there is something missing. I have no doubt that this desire for something new and bigger than myself is being directed by God. To read about someone who felt the same way, in a book that I didn't even know about and wasn't even looking for, proves to me that there is something to this intuition thing. I just hope I can continue to use it to look forward, instead of regretting I didn't use it when I look back.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
I Write, Therefore I'm a Writer
Ever since the Rhythm of Life Design class, I've been addicted to the internet again. I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do is check my email, to see if one of my new friends has sent me something inspirational. Friday morning I woke up and the first thing I did was read this blog post.
Spiritual Evolution of the Bean: Acceptance: I am what I am.
I write, therefore I am a writer. There, I've said it. And I'm feeling more and more like one everyday. As I have experiences now, I try to figure out how I will convert my thoughts and feelings about them to the page, and I can't wait to get them there. I realize this probably isn't a good thing, because it's not helping me live in the moment, which is something I know I need to work on. As I go about my day I find myself thinking, "how can I convert these thoughts and experiences into words, how do I get these thoughts onto the paper." I desperately want to convey them as powerfully as they appear in my head, but I normally feel like something has been lost in the translation. I will admit it's getting easier, and I am getting better at it.
It's a long, slow evolution, but I'm in it for the long haul. I guess you could call it Spiritual Evolution of the Pilot, instead of the Bean. I write, therefore I am a writer. Thanks for the words of wisdom and inspiration Stephanie.
Spiritual Evolution of the Bean: Acceptance: I am what I am.
I write, therefore I am a writer. There, I've said it. And I'm feeling more and more like one everyday. As I have experiences now, I try to figure out how I will convert my thoughts and feelings about them to the page, and I can't wait to get them there. I realize this probably isn't a good thing, because it's not helping me live in the moment, which is something I know I need to work on. As I go about my day I find myself thinking, "how can I convert these thoughts and experiences into words, how do I get these thoughts onto the paper." I desperately want to convey them as powerfully as they appear in my head, but I normally feel like something has been lost in the translation. I will admit it's getting easier, and I am getting better at it.
It's a long, slow evolution, but I'm in it for the long haul. I guess you could call it Spiritual Evolution of the Pilot, instead of the Bean. I write, therefore I am a writer. Thanks for the words of wisdom and inspiration Stephanie.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A Living Legend
I must be getting into this writing thing. As I sat watching an icon perform in concert tonight, I kept thinking about the blog I was going to write when I got home. We'll see if it comes out as well as it did in my head a few hours ago.
I first became fascinated with the Beatles about the time John Lennon died. I was ten, and I don't remember specifically hearing about it. My dad used to watch about an hour and a half of news every night, so I'm sure subliminally I knew about it but didn't pay much attention. There must have been something that got me thinking about their music though, because up until that point I don't remember listening to much music.
My parents were almost the same age as the Beatles, but for some strange reason they were never interested in their music. Their tastes ran more along the lines of Jerry Vale, lucky me. I guess it was of my own volition that I checked out a Beatles album from the library, I don't remember which one it was. All I remember is sitting in front of my parents ancient, furniture-like record player (which they still have 28 years later), and crying. My mom asked why I was crying, and I told her because there would never be another Beatle's album now that John was dead. Not that there would have been anyway, but I don't think I realized that at the time. She told me that if listening to the music had that effect on me, I wouldn't be allowed to listen to it anymore. Obviously, she just didn't get it.
My next memory of McCartney was watching the Wings tour on TV. I think it was on HBO, but I'm not sure. I finally saw McCartney live in 1989 when I was in college. I thought that might be my only chance to see him live, and that was over 20 years ago. I've since been to the 1993, 2002, and now 2010 shows. I don't say this to brag, but to show the way this man's music has followed me throughout my lifetime.
I knew from previous tours that he would probably play Blackbird. As many times as I've seen him live, I've never heard him explain what the song was about. It's about race issues in the south in the 60's. I'm not ready to explain why, but I now know why I've been drawn to this song for so long.
I think the show tonight was just as good as the first one I saw 20 years ago. It was 3 hours long, and it was the second night in a row in our town. I'm amazed at the energy McCartney has at age 68. I know 68 year olds that get tired after watching 3 hours of TV, much less jumping around on stage singing for 3 hours. "He's worse than the energizer bunny," my husband said, and I had to agree. I got tired just watching him. And this is the first time in a long time that I haven't been one of the oldest people at a concert. Not by a longshot.
I would like to end this blog with a public service announcement. I've been to a lot of concerts over the last 8 years, and I've noticed a significant reduction in my hearing. I realize that I also spend a lot of time around jet engine noise, and I'm sure that's partly to blame as well. Standing in the first few rows of a concert right by the speaker stack certainly doesn't help though. What really frustrates me is to see kids at a concert without ear protection. Please, please, please, if you're going to take a kid to a concert protect their ears. I had ear plugs in tonight and my ears were still ringing at the end. Wait a minute, did I just admit that? Maybe I was the oldest person there, not in age but in spirit. Oh well, at least I'll be able to hear when I'm 64.
I first became fascinated with the Beatles about the time John Lennon died. I was ten, and I don't remember specifically hearing about it. My dad used to watch about an hour and a half of news every night, so I'm sure subliminally I knew about it but didn't pay much attention. There must have been something that got me thinking about their music though, because up until that point I don't remember listening to much music.
My parents were almost the same age as the Beatles, but for some strange reason they were never interested in their music. Their tastes ran more along the lines of Jerry Vale, lucky me. I guess it was of my own volition that I checked out a Beatles album from the library, I don't remember which one it was. All I remember is sitting in front of my parents ancient, furniture-like record player (which they still have 28 years later), and crying. My mom asked why I was crying, and I told her because there would never be another Beatle's album now that John was dead. Not that there would have been anyway, but I don't think I realized that at the time. She told me that if listening to the music had that effect on me, I wouldn't be allowed to listen to it anymore. Obviously, she just didn't get it.
My next memory of McCartney was watching the Wings tour on TV. I think it was on HBO, but I'm not sure. I finally saw McCartney live in 1989 when I was in college. I thought that might be my only chance to see him live, and that was over 20 years ago. I've since been to the 1993, 2002, and now 2010 shows. I don't say this to brag, but to show the way this man's music has followed me throughout my lifetime.
I knew from previous tours that he would probably play Blackbird. As many times as I've seen him live, I've never heard him explain what the song was about. It's about race issues in the south in the 60's. I'm not ready to explain why, but I now know why I've been drawn to this song for so long.
I think the show tonight was just as good as the first one I saw 20 years ago. It was 3 hours long, and it was the second night in a row in our town. I'm amazed at the energy McCartney has at age 68. I know 68 year olds that get tired after watching 3 hours of TV, much less jumping around on stage singing for 3 hours. "He's worse than the energizer bunny," my husband said, and I had to agree. I got tired just watching him. And this is the first time in a long time that I haven't been one of the oldest people at a concert. Not by a longshot.
I would like to end this blog with a public service announcement. I've been to a lot of concerts over the last 8 years, and I've noticed a significant reduction in my hearing. I realize that I also spend a lot of time around jet engine noise, and I'm sure that's partly to blame as well. Standing in the first few rows of a concert right by the speaker stack certainly doesn't help though. What really frustrates me is to see kids at a concert without ear protection. Please, please, please, if you're going to take a kid to a concert protect their ears. I had ear plugs in tonight and my ears were still ringing at the end. Wait a minute, did I just admit that? Maybe I was the oldest person there, not in age but in spirit. Oh well, at least I'll be able to hear when I'm 64.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Happy Birthday Dad
Tomorrow would have been my dad's birthday. He passed away in 2006, when my son was 8 months old. We don't go to the cemetery very often, just for his birthday and Christmas and maybe one or two other times a year. It's not that I don't care about going, it's just that I don't feel like I need to be there to connect with my dad. In fact, in some ways I feel like he's always with me now, and that makes me happy. It's a good thing I feel that way, because going to the cemetery with a 4 year old provokes some interesting, unanswerable questions.
"Does Pup eat cake in heaven? What kind of cake does he have? Where is he, is he under this stone?" Those were the easy ones. Then the inevitable questions about heaven, along with, "When will you die? When will I die? Does everyone die from cancer?" How do you answer a question when you don't have the answer yourself?
There are an alarming number of young children buried around my dad. My son is always drawn to the toy cars and trinkets people leave as a remembrance, and of course I find this all particularly heart wrenching. As we were looking at the grave of a 3 year old, my son said, "Will he grow up in heaven?" I wish I knew the answer.
This past year I have drawn closer to God than ever before, and yet at the same time some of my religious views are changing. I find myself unable to find a church I enjoy attending, but I am becoming more in touch with my own spirituality and my connection to the divine. I no longer believe in an angry, vengeful God that will send you to hell if you don't behave. In fact, I don't even think I believe in hell anymore, other than the one we create for ourselves.
As my own spiritual thoughts are evolving and changing, I have the questions of a child to answer. His questions make me examine my own feelings, and help me to sort through what I truly believe. I guess I must be doing ok with the answers, because my son never seems to ask follow up questions. The questions make me think about my own philosophy of life/death/heaven/reincarnation/spirituality. Maybe the same question asked a year from now would have a different answer, I don't know.
At least I didn't have to think about his last question before leaving the cemetery. "What does Pup do in heaven?" That's an easy one. I'm pretty sure he's on a perpetual hunting trip. As a vegetarian, I always hoped my dad would come back empty handed from his hunting trips when he was alive. Happy Birthday Dad, I hope you come home with a big one this time.
"Does Pup eat cake in heaven? What kind of cake does he have? Where is he, is he under this stone?" Those were the easy ones. Then the inevitable questions about heaven, along with, "When will you die? When will I die? Does everyone die from cancer?" How do you answer a question when you don't have the answer yourself?
There are an alarming number of young children buried around my dad. My son is always drawn to the toy cars and trinkets people leave as a remembrance, and of course I find this all particularly heart wrenching. As we were looking at the grave of a 3 year old, my son said, "Will he grow up in heaven?" I wish I knew the answer.
This past year I have drawn closer to God than ever before, and yet at the same time some of my religious views are changing. I find myself unable to find a church I enjoy attending, but I am becoming more in touch with my own spirituality and my connection to the divine. I no longer believe in an angry, vengeful God that will send you to hell if you don't behave. In fact, I don't even think I believe in hell anymore, other than the one we create for ourselves.
As my own spiritual thoughts are evolving and changing, I have the questions of a child to answer. His questions make me examine my own feelings, and help me to sort through what I truly believe. I guess I must be doing ok with the answers, because my son never seems to ask follow up questions. The questions make me think about my own philosophy of life/death/heaven/reincarnation/spirituality. Maybe the same question asked a year from now would have a different answer, I don't know.
At least I didn't have to think about his last question before leaving the cemetery. "What does Pup do in heaven?" That's an easy one. I'm pretty sure he's on a perpetual hunting trip. As a vegetarian, I always hoped my dad would come back empty handed from his hunting trips when he was alive. Happy Birthday Dad, I hope you come home with a big one this time.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
For the Love of Biscotti
Oh my, what a weekend. As I sit in a local coffee shop writing this, I am enjoying a biscotti. Not a sugar free, wheat free, dairy free biscotti mind you. A full on, delicious, everything I shouldn't be eating biscotti. That in itself wouldn't be so bad, if it wasn't for the turtle sundae yesterday. Or the cheesy bread the two previous days, or the six glasses of wine at the riesling festival. You're beginning to get the picture. And I haven't even mentioned the reese's peanut butter cup or the martini.
I'm not quite sure what is happening to me, other than maybe I've been abducted by aliens. Ok, that's a joke. I have just lost all will power related to food, and I am enjoying eating like a normal person again. Immensely. That has got to stop. Not only do I feel tired and my allergies are cranking again, but I got rid of all my clothes that are now 3 sizes too big. If I start eating like this again I"ll have to go shopping, and I'd be moving the wrong way on the sizing chart.
Strangely enough, I have had the urge to do "oil pulling" the last few mornings. I wrote about this a few months ago, but if you missed it or aren't familiar here's a quick description. Oil pulling is an Ayurvedic technique that supposedly rids the body of toxins. You swish oil around in your mouth for several minutes a day, and the reported cures are seemingly endless.
Several months ago I was actively trying to do this every day but I kept forgetting. Something has been making me remember it the last few days. Maybe my body figures if I can't keep the bad stuff out of my mouth, it will help me try to remove the toxins another way. I will say that I've had pretty good results. The other day I woke up and my eyes were all gummy and teary. After swishing oil for 15 minutes, my eyes cleared up and I had a ton of mucus running down the back of my throat. Sorry to be graphic here, but if I could learn to spit like a guy I would definitely have been removing toxins from my body.
Now I just have to work on reducing this junk food craving again. I'm mad at myself because I had been perfectly happy with a cup of tea or piece of fruit after dinner, and now I'm not happy unless I've had sugar. I guess I need to look at this diet as a lifestyle change instead of an ongoing diet, and then it might be easier. Or I need to learn to be happy with eye allergies and +20 pounds. Right now that one sounds like more fun. HELP!
I'm not quite sure what is happening to me, other than maybe I've been abducted by aliens. Ok, that's a joke. I have just lost all will power related to food, and I am enjoying eating like a normal person again. Immensely. That has got to stop. Not only do I feel tired and my allergies are cranking again, but I got rid of all my clothes that are now 3 sizes too big. If I start eating like this again I"ll have to go shopping, and I'd be moving the wrong way on the sizing chart.
Strangely enough, I have had the urge to do "oil pulling" the last few mornings. I wrote about this a few months ago, but if you missed it or aren't familiar here's a quick description. Oil pulling is an Ayurvedic technique that supposedly rids the body of toxins. You swish oil around in your mouth for several minutes a day, and the reported cures are seemingly endless.
Several months ago I was actively trying to do this every day but I kept forgetting. Something has been making me remember it the last few days. Maybe my body figures if I can't keep the bad stuff out of my mouth, it will help me try to remove the toxins another way. I will say that I've had pretty good results. The other day I woke up and my eyes were all gummy and teary. After swishing oil for 15 minutes, my eyes cleared up and I had a ton of mucus running down the back of my throat. Sorry to be graphic here, but if I could learn to spit like a guy I would definitely have been removing toxins from my body.
Now I just have to work on reducing this junk food craving again. I'm mad at myself because I had been perfectly happy with a cup of tea or piece of fruit after dinner, and now I'm not happy unless I've had sugar. I guess I need to look at this diet as a lifestyle change instead of an ongoing diet, and then it might be easier. Or I need to learn to be happy with eye allergies and +20 pounds. Right now that one sounds like more fun. HELP!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Something Smells A Little Fishy
I have a confession to make. I have had fish for dinner for the last three nights in a row. So what, you might say. And I would agree with you, other than the fact that I've been a vegetarian for the last 12 years.
I've been having some problems with allergies, and that's why I started the crazy "no sugar, no dairy, no wheat, no alcohol, no fun" diet I've been on most of the year. The upside - I've lost about 20 pounds. The downside - I don't think I'm getting enough protein, especially at work. Fish is the only animal I can even consider eating, so I'm slowly starting to try it out again.
Another reason I am experimenting with fish is that we are leaving for Scotland in a few weeks. I used to look forward to eating in Britain, because there are a lot of vegetarians in the UK. I can always find something to eat, but unfortunately, it's either wrapped in pastry or smothered in cheese. Or my absolute favorite thing, a pasty, which is a pastry stuffed with potato and cheese. Kind of like a giant pierogie with a crispy crust and diced potatoes. Ok, it's really nothing like a pierogie. Anyway, since I'm still not doing dairy or wheat I thought I might starve in Scotland, so I'm easing myself into the fish thing again.
I would really prefer to stay a vegetarian, but my instinct, as well as my nutritionist, acupuncturist, and husband seem to think the fish is a good idea. Although I question my husbands motives, I think he's just tired of eating fake meat and veggie burgers.
I guess I'll just have to see how it goes. What finally converted me to vegetarianism 12 years ago was living in North Carolina. I would pass the hog trucks every morning, and I couldn't look at them as I drove past. I would feel really guilty for having had a bacon sandwich for breakfast, when the poor pigs were crammed into the truck with their little snouts sticking out of the holes.
I definitely still need to pretend that the fish on my plate just manifested itself there, instead of thinking about the flopping, gasping thing that comes out of the water. Hmm, I may have just made myself a vegetarian again with that thought. Stay tuned, I'll let you know how it goes.
I've been having some problems with allergies, and that's why I started the crazy "no sugar, no dairy, no wheat, no alcohol, no fun" diet I've been on most of the year. The upside - I've lost about 20 pounds. The downside - I don't think I'm getting enough protein, especially at work. Fish is the only animal I can even consider eating, so I'm slowly starting to try it out again.
Another reason I am experimenting with fish is that we are leaving for Scotland in a few weeks. I used to look forward to eating in Britain, because there are a lot of vegetarians in the UK. I can always find something to eat, but unfortunately, it's either wrapped in pastry or smothered in cheese. Or my absolute favorite thing, a pasty, which is a pastry stuffed with potato and cheese. Kind of like a giant pierogie with a crispy crust and diced potatoes. Ok, it's really nothing like a pierogie. Anyway, since I'm still not doing dairy or wheat I thought I might starve in Scotland, so I'm easing myself into the fish thing again.
I would really prefer to stay a vegetarian, but my instinct, as well as my nutritionist, acupuncturist, and husband seem to think the fish is a good idea. Although I question my husbands motives, I think he's just tired of eating fake meat and veggie burgers.
I guess I'll just have to see how it goes. What finally converted me to vegetarianism 12 years ago was living in North Carolina. I would pass the hog trucks every morning, and I couldn't look at them as I drove past. I would feel really guilty for having had a bacon sandwich for breakfast, when the poor pigs were crammed into the truck with their little snouts sticking out of the holes.
I definitely still need to pretend that the fish on my plate just manifested itself there, instead of thinking about the flopping, gasping thing that comes out of the water. Hmm, I may have just made myself a vegetarian again with that thought. Stay tuned, I'll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Damn you Ben and Jerry
Hmmm. Wondering if I'm having a bit of a backslide. Well, not a backslide I guess, I'm just not rocketing forward at lightning pace anymore. My positive attitude has been shaken a little, because I seem to be surrounded by negativity the last few days. I'm trying to let the bad vibes bounce off of me, which I have been successful in doing the last few weeks. There must be a chink in the armor though, because today it's not bouncing as easily as I would like it to.
I did a great job of staying positive at work on Monday. I start and end all of my trips in a different city than where I live. That's the best and worst part of the job, that I can live anywhere I want. It's the best for obvious reasons, and the worst because it means I'm gone an extra day each trip, either the night before or the night after my trip starts. Commuting to work by airplane is interesting, to say the least.
On Monday I missed my flight home by 2 minutes, and had to wait 4 hours for the next one. Of course, due to Murphy's Law of commuting, that one was late. I don't know why, but it always works out that way. It's never 5 minutes late when you need it to be, but if you've been waiting for hours it will be late. One of the laws of the universe I guess, like gravity. I can complain about it all I want but it's not going to change.
Amazingly, I kept a pretty zen attitude about the whole thing. Normally I would be fuming that I was only going to make it home for bedtime instead of dinner time, but this day I didn't let it bother me. I just figured I was meant to stay at work and get some studying done for my simulator training next month. I was actually amazed at the fact that I didn't let it ruin my day like it would have in the past.
I just need to find that zen attitude again now that I'm struggling a little bit. I did treat myself to a piece of carrot cake while I was waiting for my flight the other day, and today I have used "Everything but the--" Ben and Jerry's ice cream to try and annihilate my bad mood. It's not working, now I just feel guilty for eating it. What I really need to do is yoga or call a friend from class to cheer me up. Well, maybe the phone call will have to wait. There's only a tiny bit of ice cream left, and I can hear it calling me from the freezer. Maybe I am backsliding, but it tastes too good to stop now.
I did a great job of staying positive at work on Monday. I start and end all of my trips in a different city than where I live. That's the best and worst part of the job, that I can live anywhere I want. It's the best for obvious reasons, and the worst because it means I'm gone an extra day each trip, either the night before or the night after my trip starts. Commuting to work by airplane is interesting, to say the least.
On Monday I missed my flight home by 2 minutes, and had to wait 4 hours for the next one. Of course, due to Murphy's Law of commuting, that one was late. I don't know why, but it always works out that way. It's never 5 minutes late when you need it to be, but if you've been waiting for hours it will be late. One of the laws of the universe I guess, like gravity. I can complain about it all I want but it's not going to change.
Amazingly, I kept a pretty zen attitude about the whole thing. Normally I would be fuming that I was only going to make it home for bedtime instead of dinner time, but this day I didn't let it bother me. I just figured I was meant to stay at work and get some studying done for my simulator training next month. I was actually amazed at the fact that I didn't let it ruin my day like it would have in the past.
I just need to find that zen attitude again now that I'm struggling a little bit. I did treat myself to a piece of carrot cake while I was waiting for my flight the other day, and today I have used "Everything but the--" Ben and Jerry's ice cream to try and annihilate my bad mood. It's not working, now I just feel guilty for eating it. What I really need to do is yoga or call a friend from class to cheer me up. Well, maybe the phone call will have to wait. There's only a tiny bit of ice cream left, and I can hear it calling me from the freezer. Maybe I am backsliding, but it tastes too good to stop now.
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