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Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Are you What you Wear?

I've been listening / watching/ reading Carol Tuttle's "Dress your Truth" free program.  She is a bubbly, energetic woman who makes me smile and think.  Her system however so far has be baffled.  I am one who loves tests.  I know I'm strange.  I do though, I like the feedback I guess of knowing that I actually know what I think I know.  . . or not.

Anyway, she has all of this delicious visual (I'm an extremely visual girl) material that she asks you to respond to, to understand what reaches your basic 'energy'.  Her system is linked to Fire/ Air/ Water/ Earth energies.  So I watch, I enjoy, and I find in every one of them, parts of who I am and parts of 'definitely not me'~  Eventually she expects you to classify yourself as one of them for a primary energy type.  I can't.  I fluctuate so much that I can't come to a solid, "oh yes, that is me" determination.  Some are closer than others, I definitely know which are NOT me.

This type of profiling isn't new to me in the least.  As I said, I love tests, silly tests, hard tests, iq tests, personality tests and I enjoy seeing if what they say my results are, actually are the ones I agree with .  (That quality alone would make me a type 4 or Earthy person).  No one can tell me what I am better than me, is my mentality.

So how valuable are these tests?  I embrace all the 'systems' for their good qualities.
I love choices, and detest being narrowed down to a couple of choices (a strong type 1 or Air).  Meyers Briggs, (INFJ)  Love Languages,(Quality time/Conversation)  Astrological signs (Strong Aquarian), Seasons (Autumn or Strong/Warm) I love classifying myself and those I care about.  It helps me understand myself and the world about me better, but . . . does it also limit me?  Do I put myself into a slot and thus negate all other possibilities?  Are my labels (LDS/Mormon, Conservative, Life-Coach, Music-Coach, Florist, Wife, Ahma {Grandmother}. . . . . .. . ) binding me or freeing me, or both?  What about yours?

Today Carol's instruction was about wearing black.  That most women can't/ shouldn't pull it off.  Only type 4 women florish in it.  It is most of our staples.  She tells 75% of the women (going with the simple assessment that out of four types each will be 25%) to toss a good portion of their current wardrobe.  How would you react to that instruction?

Are you the type who is open to trying a whole new way of dressing, of purchasing, of even starting pretty much from scratch?  One woman talked about the fact that literally 90% of her wardrobe was not her correct type and thus she tossed it.  I can't imagine that. Perhaps I'm just stubborn and too much of an introvert for my own good.  Or. . . perhaps I'm just the immobile Bryce-Canyon, solid, strong. . . Earthy.  

Friday, June 20, 2014

Reconsiderations and Ministrations

As I said, life gets crazy.  But only when we allow it to.  What will I allow in my life?  I've often said that I think best when I'm on my feet putting out metaphorical fires.  Perhaps it i s the adrenalin, or just the deadline, other or self-appointed.  At any rate, if there is not a certain moment that 'finished' must be cleanly mentally stamped on a project (finished or not), I tend to move it to the "good" column rather than the "best" one. 

One of the good things, is this blog.  I began it believing that I wanted to use my life-coaching tools to help others with pitfalls and problems that I'd already slipped into and found a life-like out of.  I was attempting professionalism, a step-back intimacy and the added burden of editing and reediting content and language.  This left me with a distaste (I'm not an editor) for evening beginning the next idea, because it would take much more time out of my priority box than I had allotted. 

So I've re-thought. 

Some of the reasons are that I've noticed that the blogs that most people tend to identify with the most are those where the writer isn't a 'professional' all decked out in the grammar-policed best, but one in which the personality shines through the slog of information and sameness to present something candid and real and relatable. 

I also found that in writing for several other facebook pages and ghost writing a slew of other projects, that I do best when I simply type from my heart and if necessary bleed emotion all over the screen through my mentor and nemesis, the keyboard.   I promise I'll still try to spell-check and be mostly grammatically non-threatening, but I don't promise I'll not over-use ellipsis. . . as I am wont to do. . .or make-up words that suit what my intended meaning is, whether or not Webster has of yet decided they are print-worthy; I don't promise that my thoughts will flow with precision and be deliciously notated or even that they'll be correct to the minutia. 

What I am going to attempt is to tell some stories of my world, whenever I get around to it or remember to do so.  Sometimes I'll share things I've learned, sometimes I may just ask if there is an answer for something I'm yet struggling with.  I may just get excited, write a few new posts, and forget about it again for years. :: smiles :: (oh, and I'll certainly NOT promise not to put in my double colonitis - action indicators.   actions held within double colon sets to indicate tone, mood, clarification.  eg. :: smiles :: )

Truth is, I used to write.  I don't much anymore, not anything of any significance.  I may just toss in some of my old stories.  I miss writing with an old group of fabulous people we used to call ourselves by many names, but the one I liked best was a little place we called "The Sandbox". 


Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Fluid time; static time and flow.

Time is a fluid thing.  It washes through our cupped palm like water.  No matter how we try to hold on to it, it still escapes us a drop at a time.  Yet. . . it also sticks like pulled taffy, lengthening when we most want it to snap and sticking greedily to precision when we wish it would last.

I just read one of my favorite author, Mitch Albom's, "The TimeKeeper".  This very principle was keenly expressed through the vivid tale of Father Time himself.  I doubt I'll ever look at my own hourglass in the same way.

I remember when I was a child, I dreampt that I could stop the world for just one night.  What could I do to make a difference?  I was fast asleep, but I remember the dream as if it was a Hollywood Academy Award winner with sets, scenery, costumes and special effects that weren't even in existence in the 60's.  (I'm dating myself aren't I?)  I remember the longing I felt when I realized that I had the power to do anything, change any life, make a difference.  With that power, I had the power of flight and of instantly being wherever I wanted to be instantly.  Think it and I was there.  What did I choose? 

Before I tell, let me also qualify that I believe strongly in the constitution.  I believe in freedom of choice more powerfully than any other principle I think.  I also believe that there are consequences that can't be re-chosen after a choice is made and acted upon.  That said, I don't care to have this turn into a discussion on the second amendment.  However it was my dearest wish that if I could do anything, I'd remove every type of gun and personal explosive device from the face of the earth.  Gather them all up and bundle them up in a sort of fiber bound impenetrable bag and sent it into the atmosphere.

What if time is more fluid than we imagine?  What if we just breathe through the moments, relishing the good ones without wasting the joy in a pool of wishing for more?  What if the difficult ones were breathed through, like labor pains with the belief that something incredibly worthwhile waited to take a gulp of life at the next moment?  Would that change things? 

So I was going to apologize. To whom I'm not certain.  I don't yet have a large readership, and even if I did at one time, a two year hiatus quite possibly doused it. To myself perhaps?  I'm a finisher and leaving something undone is against my better nature.  Can a blog even be finished? Of course not, it is open-ended, a continuous flow. . . kinda like life. 

So. . .hello, again. 

M