Archive for the ‘joy’ Category

Relationships: True Intimacy

May 1, 2009

True intimacy is achieved when you feel safe enough to be emotionally naked with your partner.  You know your partner will not try to talk you out of your authentic feelings, will not say you’re “over-reacting”,  will not try to fix it, and will not ignore you. You know you will be supported and validated no matter what you’re feeling and sharing, verbally or otherwise.  You know you will receive empathy.This is love, pure and simple…

Baby V

March 19, 2009

(12 week sonogram found on youtube- NOT OUR BABY!)

I cannot even begin to describe what an experience it was to see the baby on the sonogram. I stood next to my son-in-law, my daughter of course on the examining table, holding her husband’s hand, as we watched in awe. That was no flat, lifeless screen as shown in the photo on my previous post. It was like an in utero video. At twelve weeks  he was moving around, very active, and even sucking his thumb! There we were, three adults, dumbstruck.  “Oh wow!” was pretty much the extent of the conversation from all three of us while the tech did her thing. My daughter’s “oh how cute!!!!!” periodically punctuated the conversation. She, as we all did, really melted when we saw the thumb sucking. That and our repeated question “is it a boy or a girl????”   The tech kept demurring that she couldn’t be certain at twelve weeks, but finally, having found the penis, she announced “Its a boy!”

We all exclaimed in joy! My daughter was no longer carrying an “it” but a male baby. From the moment I heard it, I no longer felt merely the excitement of the pregnancy. Now he had an identity.  I felt love for him . For that tiny little guy so active inside his mom. For  Baby V, already named before his mom even got pregnant.

At twelve weeks, this baby was no future unknown. This baby was now.

And I feel so very honored that they invited me to participate in this intimate, joyous stage of their journey.  I love all three of them with all my heart.

My Future Grandchild

March 17, 2009

(An Embryo at 12 weeks- not ours)

I am so excited. I’m going with my daughter and son-in-law for the 12 week sonogram tonight. What a way to meet my grandchild! I don’t remember them back in my day… Apparently this tech has a 100% success rate reading these things for gender, but of course the 20 week one will be definitive.   I have many deep thoughts about this baby’s soon to be arrival into our family, but that will be another post for another time.  Just had to share the present thrill.  Even my own Drama Mama (thanks for that one, Amber!) is excited. She will be a great grandma, and we even have a great great grandma waiting in the wings.  More tomorrow, friends.

When I am Happiest

March 16, 2009

 

I’m happiest when I’m creating. I am totally present. It feels like God flows right through me. Peace and energy simultaneously! What could be better than that??? Pure joy! I honestly feel that both physical and spiritual healing continue to take place in me, the more I allow my creativity free reign. Poetry, jewelry designs, decoupage, photography- all of it. I’m working on a new jewelry design which i will show you later. I went to take photos of what i’ve done to show you guys but my battery was dead on my new camera 😦

Anyway, just thought I’d share a happy mood for a change.  By the way, the photo is not me but my sister and dearest friend, who shares my joy as described here…she’s an incredible mixed media artist so we are starting a business together. God I love her.

We’re Pregnant!

February 9, 2009

Ok, I know its customary for the mom and dad these days to say “we’re pregnant”, but I just have to tell you that my daughter is pregnant with my first grandchild, and it sure feels like WE’RE pregnant..(.actually just like her wedding felt like “our wedding”.)  We are just so close. She wants me in the delivery room and everything. I am just so honored about that. And even more honored that her husband wants me there.

No, he really does.

 She just got back from the doctor’s. We knew it of course from the home pregnancy test and other obvious signs, but it was nice to have him confirm that she’s healthy and they got to hear the heartbeat. She’s two months, due September 25th. 

Woohoowoohoowoohoo!!!!!!  🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

She thinks she already looks pregnant, especially in her stomach. I don’t want to rain on her parade, she’s so excited, but truthfully, shhhh…here is what she still looks like:

Coming to America

February 8, 2009

For my friend Sanityfound,  because she really is coming to america!

 

COMING TO AMERICA

Far
We’ve been travelling far
Without a home
But not without a star

Free
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dream

On the boats and on the planes
They’re coming to America
Never looking back again
They’re coming to America

Home, don’t it seem so far away
Oh, we’re travelling light today
In the eye of the storm
In the eye of the storm

Home, to a new and a shiny place
Make our bed, and we’ll say our grace
Freedom’s light burning warm
Freedom’s light burning warm

Everywhere around the world
They’re coming to America
Every time that flag’s unfurled
They’re coming to America

Got a dream to take them there
They’re coming to America
Got a dream they’ve come to share
They’re coming to America

They’re coming to America
They’re coming to America
They’re coming to America
They’re coming to America
Today, today, today, today, today

My country ’tis of thee
(Today)
Sweet land of liberty
(today)
Of thee I sing
(today)
Of thee I sing
(today)

(today)

(today)

(today

Psychscribe New Year’s Quote 2009

January 1, 2009

heros-journey3

 

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you have imagined.”  Henry David Thoreau

The Gift of the Magi- By O’Henry

December 20, 2008

This is another lovely story about the true meaning of Christmas.

 

The Gift of the Magi

By O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas. There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.” The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good. Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag.     

She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling–something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art. Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length. Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty’s jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet. On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.Where she stopped the sign read: “Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the “Sofronie.” “Will you buy my hair?” asked Della. “I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it. “Down rippled the brown cascade. “Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand. “Give it to me quick,” said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present. She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation–as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim’s. It was like him. Quietness and value–the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends–a mammoth task.Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically. “If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do–oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?” At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops. Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.

“The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two–and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves. Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face. Della wriggled off the table and went for him. “Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow out again–you won’t mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice– what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.””You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor. “Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? I’m me without my hair, ain’t I?” Jim looked about the room curiously. “You say your hair is gone?” he said, with an air almost of idiocy. “You needn’t look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you–sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year–what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table. “Don’t make any mistake, Dell,” he said, “about me. I don’t think there’s anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you’ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.”

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat. For there lay The Combs–the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims–just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!” And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!” Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit. “Isn’t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.” Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled. “Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ’em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.

“The magi, as you know, were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Psychscribe Quote # 48

December 16, 2008

 

Image from www.globalcollage.com

rain

 

“Life isn’t about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain.” Author unknown.

Psychscribe Quote # 47

December 11, 2008

images-41
” One approaches the journey’s end. But the end is a goal, not a catastrophe. ” George Sand

So WHERE was the nearest mall…?

November 30, 2008


rohden_franz_von_gerburt_christi

 

by Franz von Rohden

German artist 
born 1817 – died 1903

The Present for You

October 17, 2008

 

Here is a present for you:

Focus solely on the present below, thinking of nothing else but the image of that present…the colors….the shapes…focus for as long as you can…and then, when you’re ready, open the present and see what you find…

 

 

In  doing this exercise you are already practicing being present…experiencing peace and release from worries about tomorrow.

What did you find when you opened your present?

Staying Present- A Life Lesson

October 14, 2008

Copyright Jupiter Images 2008

“Look not back in anger nor ahead in fear, but think of now with awareness.” Author Unknown 

I chose this quote for my high school yearbook. I have no idea how it surfaced through the years to my conscious memory, but wow!  That 18 year old girl must have had some precognition that the quoted lesson  would be one I so needed to eventually learn (and teach my future clients).

 And learning it I am. Even more aware of the beauty of nature than I’ve been all my life (if thats posssible),seeing it, smelling it, feeling it on my skin,  melding with it, morphing with it, feeling it in every inch of my body and soul. Its a beautiful autumn here in the northeast…

How long are YOU able to stay in the present moment? Have you thought about that? Have you thought about the fact that when you are TRULY in the present moment you can’t worry or feel anxious because that’s about the future? Are you letting the simple joys of the present moment slip away into tomorrows that may never come?

What are your favorite ways of staying present? Staying in the present is a present you give to yourself.

5 Years From Now Will This Matter?

October 11, 2008

That’s all I have to say regarding whatever you’re so anxious about today…

 

My Daughter’s Wedding & The Notebook

October 9, 2008

Oh, what a wedding it was! Everything and more than we’d dreamed of since she was five, when I caught her in our yard literally kissing frogs because, “I have to find my prince, Mommy.” She apparently squeezed one frog so ardently that she frantically presented it to me because she…well….she couldn’t wake it up.

I raised my princess to be strong, assertive, and independent. She did not need Prince Charming to save her or rescue her, but she did find a Prince Charming who is fairy tale handsome, protective, nurturing, kind, strong, gentle, and  generous.  (And yes, also an alpha male!)

Oh, what beautiful babies they will make!

They’re twenty eight, have been together for seven years, and lived together for the past two. So her new husband already felt like family, it seemed to me. Yet witnessing for them as they signed their marriage license, and watching them go through the ritual in the church, somehow made me love him differently. Because now he IS family. He will be the father of my grandchildren. He will take care of me when I’m old, if I should need it. He’s that kind of man, a good man. And so is his family. Our tiny family, long since dwindled from what it once was,  has  somehow been blessed with in-laws who have already absorbed us into their tribe. We have long yearned for this void to be filled. 

They looked gorgeous. They looked madly in love, even after all this time.  They never left each other’s side but ate and danced and laughed the night away. Their song was “I Could Not Ask for More”  by Ed McCain.   But I found this one on YouTube sung by a female vocalist, with video clips from The Notebook, my daughter’s and my all time favorite romantic movie. The lovers here remind me of my new newlyweds:

 

 

I truly could not ask for more.

What is the Ubuntu Blog Movement?

October 8, 2008

 

Find out at Sanity Found’s Ramblings.

 I am because you are.

Lion/Human Reunion

July 31, 2008

This is sooo worth watching 🙂

 

American Idol – Rock on Cook!!!

May 22, 2008

OK, I was so emotionally affected by David Cook’s victory it amazes me – I felt as proud of him as any mother, and so very touched by his humble response. I was rooting for him all season, but as the other David walked away with the judges’ accolades week after week I thought Cook had no chance. Especially since viewers usually seem to vote just like the judges call it. (Isn’t it odd that Cowell apologized for his disresepect before the winner was announced…himmm..)

Why do older people like myself so enjoy a talent show of kids 28 years old  or younger? I think because it  is so thrilling and satisfying and inspiring to watch kids follow their dreams, the perserverence, the courage, and, of course, the talent. But for me, mostly, its watching them follow their dreams.

When I was that age I had no dreams. How sad is that? But, late bloomer that I was, I developed dreams of education and a profession in my forties and damn if I didn’t just do it.  When the zillions of  balloons fell from the ceiling at my graduation ceremony for my masters, I honestly felt like “Ladies and Gentlemen, THIS is American Idol!”

Congratulations David Cook!

Your Shining Moment w/Mom?

May 5, 2008

Ok, I’m a therapist. I know we all have our issues, often with Mom. I have them myself. But with Mother’s Day approaching, I thought it would be nice for us to mention a wonderful moment, a shining moment, a defining moment with our mothers that transcends any issues we might still have.

For me, the first thing that comes to mind is when my daughter was born. Seeing Mom in the recovery room and our sponataneous grasping hands, high into the air in a victory gesture, with mom joyously exclaiming, “We got our girl!!!”

What about you?

The Good Thing About Lupus Flares

April 4, 2008

ecstasy2.jpg

                                                                                      (Artist Unknown)

As wretched as lupus flares are, once they pass you soooo appreciate feeling well! Today I have energy.  Today I will dust. Today I will go to the mall to try on dresses for my daughter’s wedding.  Tonight I will go out for dinner with my husband.  This day is a wonderful day.

Psychscribe Quote #27

April 3, 2008

jesus22.jpg

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Jesus Christ

The Prodigal Daughter

March 13, 2008

The Prodigal Daughter

Thanks to a class offered by a

soft spoken South American professor

who preaches the gospel of creativity

I am whole again.

Seeking the power of steel beams and girders

I had tossed my Muse (my dearest friend) into the sea.

I needed muscle

not watercolor dreams leading nowhere.

I learned to weld and solder

to read blueprints and gauge distances

to hammer and sweat in the sun

until mine was as big as his.

I forgot how to cry.

Finally one say in class (for three credits)

I walked alone across the bridge that

I had built with my own two hands and

found my Muse waiting there

like an indulgent mother

for me to call her name.

Now words and colors and images

leap and dance before my eyes

and I paint golden wildflowers on my bridge

and I sing purple poems

and my tears fall freely now

because I have come home again,

transformed.

It is indeed a form of prayer.

 

by Pyschscribe copyright 2008

Couples Clue Phone #4

March 11, 2008

Marriage or a committed relationship is not about “what am I going to get from my partner”. Rather, its about mutual stretching into “what can I do to fulfill my partner’s needs?” Its about mutual giving, not getting. The more you give, the more you get…. But I stress the word mutual. Otherwise its just a whole codependent thing going on, which ultimately brings happiness to no one.

This is the philosophy of Imago Therapy. If you haven’t read about it, you can google Imago Relationship Institute or buy “Getting the Love You Want” by Harville Hendrix. I highly recommend it as a Certified Imago Therapist.

Psychscribe Quote #15

February 12, 2008

“Seeing something for the last time is almost as beautiful as seeing it for the first time.” Bernie Siegel

Psychscribe’s Shining Moment

February 8, 2008

Walking across the stage in that huge Rutgers University auditorium at age 44, and being awarded my MSW degree.

So think about it if you will and tell me, what was yours?