guidance

ADORE
a·dore
əˈdôr/
verb
1. love and respect (someone) deeply.
synonyms: love dearly, love, be devoted to, dote on, hold dear, cherish, treasure, prize, think the world of.

My life changed forever when, as a 40 something woman looking for a prospective mate, I had the audacity to declare ” I want to be adored”

I told all my friends, and as they nodded and smiled their faux-supportive smiles I could see in their eyes, “Yeah, good luck with that”.

This new realization had hit me as a supreme and long overdue “Ah Ha” moment
after yet another 4+ year relationship crashed and burned.

Following my divorce at 25, I had actually fallen in love more than once, and as the years marched on, so did the list of dates, lovers, and boyfriends.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining they were all great guys. Some were younger than me, others were my age; some were artistic and wildly creative; others cerebral, funny and loving. (Are you feeling sorry for me yet? Yeah, don’t. Not yet. Wait for it.)

They were all very different, not at all alike.
The only commonality they all shared was how they ended our relationship.
The words that I heard at the end were always the same:
“You’re amazing, I’m just not ready”.
You’re the best girlfriend I could imagine”.
“Some lucky guy is going to grab you. Just not me.”
” I should probably never leave you, I’m sure I’ll regret this”
But…

Then they all walked away.
Some of them ran. One took a jet.

When the last one left I was around forty years old. (Which everyone knows is  too old to be dumped by  boyfriend.)  I could see that I had to change my relationship recipe if I wanted love to last. There was an ingredient missing. One component with the shelf-life of warm chocolate cake. By the time I even got a whiff of it—it was gone. Which explains why it took me awhile to come up with the word. And when I did, it was audacious.
I wanted to be adored!
Cherished, respected, treasured, thought the world of, and dearly loved!

I knew guys were capable of it, I had seen it in their faces when I suggested throwing away a favorite old flannel shirt, or their college baseball jersey.
They would grab it away and hug it close, eyes filled with…adoration.
I wanted the next man’s face to reflect that look back…to ME!

It was no longer acceptable to me to be so easily disposable.
I realized I was more like the stuff in the box that goes to Goodwill.
Easily Forgettable.

Fuck that!
I wanted to be the flannel shirt!
Instead of jetting out of my life I wanted to hear, “Out of the question, she stays! I would rather lose a limb than be without her!”

It takes a special man to adore a woman.
He has to have overcome his own broken heart enough to recognize your awesomeness, been vaccinated against that fear of commitment bug  in order to let his guard down, and then YOU  have to be willing to do the same.

The payoff for that level of vulnerability will be the look in his eyes.

The reason I’m sharing this is that it is possible. For me it became essential.
And after that realization, the audaciousness paid off.  I found it, and you can too.

Everyone has the right to feel cherished and treasured and held dear!
You just have to have the audacity to ask for it.

Now, adoration is pretty heady stuff, so your next task it to make sure you are someone who is capable of accepting it. I know who you are so I’m not worried.

Seeking adoration doesn’t happen overnight, but you can start now.
Xox Janet

In an interview he did in 2007, Peter O’Toole, that beautiful, blue eyed, scalawag actor, was asked the question, “What do you want written on your tombstone”?

He leaned back and told the story of his beloved tattered leather jacket.
He said it was soaked in sweat, covered in blood, Guinness and cornflakes?!
Which of course made it his favorite.
Eventually it went to the cleaners.
It came back with a note pinned to it, that all these years later still made him chuckle.
It read:

“It distresses us to return work which is not perfect”

That’s was his answer, and I couldn’t agree more!
Because otherwise, what’s the point!?

When I leave this mortal coil, I want to be “distressed.”
I want to show I’ve lived.
That perhaps it wasn’t a pure and “perfect” life, but dammit! It was a life well lived!

Just like his jacket, I want to be worn in, with the wrinkles and scars to prove it.
I want to be covered in sweat, and dog hair, with smeared lipstick and wine stains.
…Maybe even cornflakes!

I want unpaid parking tickets in the pockets.
Along with a motorcycle key and a wad of foreign currency.

I want the leather to smell like a combination of caramel,tobacco, Shalimar, and coffee,
I want it left on the back of a chair in George Clooney’s suite in a Paris Hotel.

I want to remain perfectly imperfect.

Then I want to be “returned to sender, postage due.”

How about you?
Xox

I had a dream last night about being a snowflake.
I was with all the other snowflakes, waiting in line to fall to earth.

It was very noisy, because us snowflakes are a chatty bunch.
We have to get it all out before we jump. 
All the gossip the complaining and the bad snowflake jokes,(they are the worst), because after we leave the cloud, we are required to remain silent.

Everyone is laughing, chewing gum and eating Red Vines, as snowflakes do, man! there’s a lot of excitement in the air.

What I can remember the most, is looking around and admiring,
well, really, I was envious of everyone else’s design.
There was such a display of individuality that it blew my little snowflake mind!

Every flake seemed to be showing their best crystals.
One was really pointed, great right angles, and deep cuts.
Another had more rounded edges, with huge cut out sections.
(Someone had obviously run with scissors)!

But what I noticed above all was that the design was a perfect match to their personality.

The outside totally matched what was inside.

What strikes me now, as I’m thinking about it, was that I was unable to see MY design. I was unable to myself.
There are apparently no full length mirrors at that point in line.

As I looked for a shiny surface, so I could catch my reflection; I began to notice I was being looked at with the same degree of admiration by the other flakes – but of course, even though I had no idea what they saw, I liked THEIR designs better than my own.

I wanted to go back to the “snowflake drawing board” and just make a couple of revisions. I was inspired. No one told me we could make a nip there, or a tuck there.

I had no idea we could be as bold as what I was observing around me.

As I got closer to the front of the line, I suddenly had this realization:

I WAS special,
I had done this many times,
I had fallen as rain,
I had pelted the earth as hail and sleet,
But now, HA!! 
Now I got to be a snowflake!
One of a kind,
Sparkling, crystalline, and magnificent!

All of the sudden things began to hush, we all became more present and very serious. We all ditched our gum under a table, gave each other big hugs, making sure not to smear our sparkles, and with a minimum of fanfare, but filled with great pride,

…We jumped. Look for me!

Merry Christmas Loves,

Xox

There come times in our lives when things suddenly change.
They go south,
The wheels fall off the cart.

But instead of becoming panicky—use your art of negotiation!

Children are masters at this.
Watch, listen and learn.
They will negotiate everything from bedtime, computer time, to eating kale.

No subject is off-limits.
If they think they can sway the situation to their advantage, high level diplomatic talks begin.

My friend calls her son Henry Kissinger.
In his world EVERYTHING is open for negotiation.
As much as this irks her, she also admires it.
He’s gotten so good, that sometimes she doesn’t realize until later, that he worked her.

No isn’t always no, it’s a very firm maybe.

Why do we lose that skill as adults?
We kinda take things at face value,
Everything’s a done deal.

If done correctly, negotiating things in life could have a ripple effect.
Using our imaginations to offer an eyelash to the tooth fairy,
so to speak, could inspire others to have that same cleverness when
things appear to go wrong, and THAT’S a world I’d like to live in!
Xox Janet

Realization number three in my ongoing unraveling brought on by this 5000 miles in 17 days motorcycle trip!

Really!? MORE?

Yep, it has become the gift that keeps on giving.

It feels like shit at times, but it really is a gift.

Some of you have heard the story of our close call on the plains of Montana and some of you have not.
For those that have…go make yourself a sandwich while I re-tell it.

So…plains of Montana, trying to out run a giant storm that is quickly bearing down on us.
Two squalls of rain ahead, with a space in-between.
My husband yells back at me over the rumbling thunder, “We’re gonna thread the needle”, meaning, try to make it between the squalls.
We are traveling on a two lane highway at 85 mph.

Now I digress, for those of you from the mid west, you are familiar with these storms.
They are an anomaly to me.

I’m from SoCal, when it drizzles there, we go on “Storm Watch”.

There’s immediate and unbelievably loud thunder that accompanies the lightning – ground lightening (what the hell?)

Then there’s rain. heavy, heavy, rain. Giant wet drops the size of quarters.
One minute it’s dry, the next it’s like someone turned a fire hose on us.

Seriously.

And hail.
Machines that rely on the centrifugal force of two six-inch wide spinning rubber discs, don’t play well with hail. Things get real squirrely. It’s like someone upstairs has thrown slippery, wet, marbles on the road in front of you and is having a laugh while you try to stay upright.

As luck would have it, the eye of the needle closes, and the squall moves over us.
Rain so heavy, I can’t see out my visor…at all…even when my hand becomes a windshield wiper.
All I CAN see are the blurry headlights of the cars in the opposite lane.

I digress once again.
Let me explain something here.
My husband is a giant guy.
6’3″. 230 lbs
My seat is a bit higher than his, so I mostly look over his right shoulder.
He does buffer most of the weather and wind, but he also obscures my view of what is directly ahead of us.

Let me also say he is an AMAZING rider.
Over 40 years of riding, he teaches off-road riding with 600 pounds of bike and gear, rides all over the world with me on the back.
Has followed the DAKAR in So America twice, and rode thru
South Africa and the Namibian desert just this year.
He’s not a poser, that weekend rider on a Harley.
He is a certified bad ass.

It is his passion, he is very skilled, and I trust him. 

Okay, back to Montana.
Rain, wind, and as I am straining to see anything.
What I do notice are headlights…in our lane.
A car is passing in the on coming lane, at over 60 m.p.h in a torrential rainstorm.
I tap hubby’s shoulder and point. Are you seeing that?

He nods slowly, staring straight ahead, no break in concentration.

Thank God!
Because what comes next is where I lose my shit.

After that car completes his pass, right behind him, also passing and in our lane, is a pickup truck with a trailer.
There is not enough time or space now for him to pass safely.
He is in our lane, coming at us at 60 m.p.h. – in the rain!

Total loss of control

I’ve never thought I was about to die before.
This is where the screaming came in.
This is where ten thousand bazillion thoughts go through your mind in one second, and the entire scene goes into slow motion.
And this is where another realization came and tapped me on the shoulder.
“NOT NOW! CAN’T YOU SEE IM BUSY!”

I’m standing straight up on the pegs now, which you don’t do, because it destabilizes the whole arrangement we’ve all made, me, my husband, the weather and the bike, and all bets are off.
I’m screaming hysterically,my slasher movie scream, knowing I’m about to become a splat on the windshield of some jerks truck – in the middle of Montana.

I have NO idea how to get out of this!
But my husband does.
I can’t see an escape route, a way out.
He can.
I can’t contain my hysteria, because I’m totally and completely NOT in control

Of-My-Fate.

I’ m going to jump off on the right into a culvert and barbed wire, to try save myself.

It actually seems at the time like a better bet.

My husband, from years of experience, training, skill and guts,
remains completely calm.
Steady and still.

I can’t see from the rain, the speed, and the incredible turbulence as my husband goes around the truck and trailer on the right, on a sliver of asphalt that remains.

I continue screaming as I position myself to jump.
The right side of my body in motion, the left side decides to stay.
We slip beside him with less than two feet to spare.
The turbulence knocks our left hand mirror down, and buffets us for what seems like forever.

Total loss of control

The realization I’ve had is this:
In life, when we don’t have clarity,
Sometimes we’re barreling towards uncertainty,
When we don’t have the facts,
When we can’t see our way clear,
We panic and make decisions based in fear.

We can swerve or slam on the brakes on a slippery surface.

Most likely, to our detriment.

If we surrender to the part of us that does know,
That does have the wisdom, the skill and the steadiness to bring us thru the storm, we may give up control, which is terrifying, but it enables us to come out unscathed on the other side.

*side note
My body is still jacked up, because in every way except the physical
I DID jump off that bike.
The left side which stayed, is in so much pain,
The right side is fine.

I have yet to integrate the two.

Xox