Connections

I haven't written in a long time - not here, not anywhere else.  I am still struggling to reconnect with my Manifesting Mount Dora project, but, more than that, life events have interrupted what may have been called "normal".

My man's youngest sibling, a sister, passed away last week after being in a coma for more than a week.  Her  condition and subsequent passing were a shock and his family is still reeling from the loss.

The same day we learned of his sister's condition, one of my dearest friends was hit head-on by a much larger vehicle on the interstate.  Fortunately, she had no life-threatening injuries and no damage to her head, spine, face, neck or internal organs.  However, her body is a jigsaw of breaks, sprains, dislocations and lacerations.  Three operations later, her parts and pieces are reconnected and beginning the healing process, but her recovery will be long and challenging.

These two sad events reminded me how we are all interconnected.  I was not in a coma, I did not die, I was not in an auto accident, I did not go through surgery, but still I was affected by each of these events.  I did not physically feel the pain, but I endured it on an emotional and mental level and I feel the exhaustion of knowing that someone you love is hurting and of the smothering effect of empathy and concern.

Here, the night before Christmas, I feel very disconnected from the holiday hoopla.  I am going through the motions for my grandchildren and my daughter, not feeling the anticipation that normally grows at this time of December.  This year has been so unexpected - sometimes exciting, sad, inspiring and disappointing; often challenging, confusing and discouraging.  Many times I was so hopeful and encouraged and other times I cried for understanding and hope.  Right now, as this year winds to a close, I am taking stock of what I am thinking and feeling.  Weariness is the word that first comes to mind.  I am very tired and no hours of sleep ease the exhaustion.  I have a strong sense of resignation, as though nothing I can do will make a difference.  Intellectually, I don't know if that is true, but that is how I FEEL.  January starts my busiest work time of the year and no matter how deep I delve internally, I cannot find a well of energy big enough to tackle the tasks that come my way at the start of every year.

There is much for which I am grateful. I and my immediate family are relatively healthy.  We have a comfortable home, food on the table and the comforts of modern life.  I have work and a steady income.  My grandchildren fill my life with laughter and love.  My daughter fills me with pride.  My man still makes me laugh and warms our home with song and music.  I know I am blessed.  And, yet I am also disappointed in a deep way I cannot explain in words and I feel guilty and ashamed of this disappointment.

I volunteer at and am on the board of directors for a feminist bookstore.  That store, the two women who own it, the staff, and the patrons feed my soul.  For more than a month, due to family and work responsibilities and all these unexpected events, I have not been able to work at the store or even spend time there.  The store closed last Saturday, temporarily, in preparation of reopening in a different location.  I was excited about the move and all the wonderful changes that come along with it, but I have missed out on the last few weeks at the current location. Friday evening I carved out a couple of hours to go to the bookstore and there my soul was fed.  I shopped the great moving sales, then sunk into a chair and talked to Erica, one of the store owners, who made me feel missed and appreciated.  We talked about everything and about nothing.  It was wonderful.  I relaxed in a way I haven't in several weeks.  I felt a sense of reconnecting with something that had been hiding in a small, dark corner and that is when I wanted to write again.

When I started this blog in March, I thought that by the end of the year I would be closer to manifesting Mount Dora - even if just a little closer - and on this 24th day of December I feel further away that I did in March.  I see clearly than I am still needed here.  My daughter and grandchildren are entrenched in life in our town and I don't see them being ready for a move any time soon.  I also know that I am needed for my injured friend and her partner as the long healing and rehabilitation period starts.  I want to be of assistance in any way I can to make this difficult journey a little easier for them.  And, I can understand that those and other reasons may be why I am not making progress toward the new life I want to create and I am okay with the fact that I am needed right here, right now.  My question is, why almost one year ago, was I given what seemed to be a very clear vision of a life in Mount Dora?  Why was that passion born in me if there is no hope of it becoming reality any time in the near future?  Was I given one more unattainable desire just so I could experience more disappointment?

As I see my friend's life suddenly and unexpectedly changed forever due to an accident she could not avoid, I am even more aware of the fragility of life and that we have no promise of a tomorrow or of a tomorrow that even slightly resembles today.  How many more days do I have to live or how many days do I have to live in a condition even similar to the one I enjoy now?  The life I envisioned in Mount Dora was a life with me as I am now.  Perhaps I could get there 10, 15 or 20 years from now, but that would not be the life that I am visualizing now because I will certainly not be the person I am now.  My vision of life in Mount Dora most definitely includes the man that shares my life now and, with his age being several years in advance of mine, I know that the delay of my manifestation means that he could very well not be present to share it with me or may not be in good enough health to truly enjoy the attainment of a dream we have both nurtured.

As usual, or maybe even more than usual, I have no answers.  I am just a woman writing a blog about - about what?  I am not even sure how to answer that.  Is it still about Manifesting Mount Dora?  Was it ever Manifesting Mount Dora?  Was it about what I want or about who I am or about who I want to be?  I cannot even think that abstractly right now.  I am ending 2012 more confused that I started and I have no idea what to expect or, if I dare, hope for in 2013.

4/26/12 Finding and Embracing Your Purpose

From “The Purpose of Your Life” by Carol Adrienne:

“At this moment, you are in a stage of your developing purpose, and you are not off track, no matter how blocked you currently feel.  Your calling has already made itself known through what motivates you (past and present), what attracts you, what you resist, and what frustrates you.  Your calling may have made a brief appearance between the ages of three and eight, or revealed itself in adolescence through a sudden interest.  Your calling can also be glimpsed in what you admire in others.  It can be seen in those abilities you have that you don’t even think are special.”


I feel so strongly that successful manifestation is linked to one’s life’s purpose that I want to explore that subject more.  Do you feel like you are living a purposeful life?  Do you feel you exist for a reason, that you can make a difference by following your purpose? 

Like most people, you may just live.  You get up, go to work or school, run errands, come home, eat, watch TV and go to bed.  On the weekends you may do something a little different or even a little special.  You have a job that pays the bills and may even have a profession for which you studied and for which you possess special skills and training, but the activity that earns a living may not be your true purpose, your passion. 

Of course, what you do for a living could be your life’s purpose.  If you feel passionate about what you do, no matter how trivial the world may judge your work, if you feel you are making a difference and that what you do fulfills a strong need within you, your work may very well be your passion.  If so, consider yourself lucky.  Most likely you identified your purpose at a fairly young age and were able to pursue it through education or work experience.  Or, maybe you tried other careers before you landed in the one that felt purposeful and meaningful.  Either way, you are fortunate to be there. 

Or, perhaps, you lost track of what may have seemed like a purpose when you were young.  Adults and even other children may have ridiculed your passion.  If your passion is unusual or does not seem likely to produce a viable living, others will negatively judge it, cruelly make fun of it or steer you away from it.  Often these are well-meaning adults who urge you to choose a livelihood that will provide a decent salary and allow you to live their idea of a typical “successful” adult life. 

Life itself may have gotten you off track.  You assumed unexpected responsibilities due to financial difficulties, poor health, an accident, the death of a parent, an early marriage or an expected pregnancy or many other possible detours from your path.  Or, are those events really detours?  Perhaps your dream was put on hold so you can further your education - not a school education, but the education of life.  Maybe you needed these experiences to gain the knowledge to one day reunite with your passion.

In Carol Adrienne’s book “Find Your Purpose, Change Your Life”, she gives many exercises to help you identify your passion and just as the quote in the beginning of this post says, that passion most likely revealed itself at a young age.  When I use her workbook to identify my purpose, the answers always have to do with writing, reading and books - all passions that I originally discovered in my childhood.  I remember in my second grade class the students were divided into three groups by our reading skills.  I was in the middle group.  We read boring stories about Spot and Jane and Tom - no plot, no humor - and I was bored and completely uninterested in reading.  Half way through the year we were allowed to start checking books out of the school library and that is when I discovered Dr. Suess and Curious George and so many other fabulous children’s books that actually were interesting and funny!  I read and read and soon moved up to the first reading group and very quickly became the second best reader in my class.  I felt passionate about reading and still do. 

My mother died when I was an infant and through most of my childhood my older sister and I did all the housework on Saturdays.  When I was about nine my job was to dust while my older sister vacuumed.  One Saturday, she finished her work and left me to do mine while she went to a neighbor’s house.  I was dusting my father’s bookshelves as I always did, when, for the first time, I actually started looking at the books, reading the titles, shuffling through the pages.  One of his books was “The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow”.  I sat on the floor with my back against the bookcase and read poem after poem until I reached “A Psalm of Life”:

A PSALM OF LIFE
 WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

    TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
        Life is but an empty dream ! —
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
        And things are not what they seem.

    Life is real !   Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal ;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul.

    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
        Is our destined end or way ;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
        Find us farther than to-day.

    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
        And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
        Funeral marches to the grave.

    In the world's broad field of battle,
        In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
        Be a hero in the strife !

    Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
        Let the dead Past bury its dead !
    Act,— act in the living Present !
        Heart within, and God o'erhead !

    Lives of great men all remind us
        We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
        Footprints on the sands of time ;

    Footprints, that perhaps another,
        Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
        Seeing, shall take heart again.

    Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate ;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait.


By the time my sister returned home, I had completely memorized the poem.  She was incensed that I was “lazing around” and did not complete my work.  She later told my father who gruffly interrogated me on what I chose to do when I was supposed to be dusting.  I told him I was reading the poems of Longfellow in his book.  He wrinkled his brow in disbelief.  Who ever heard of a nine-year-old willingly reading Longfellow?  My sister called me a liar, but then I started reciting “A Psalm of Life”.  Complete silence followed my recitation.  My father, an avid reader and lover of literature, actually praised me for my memorization of that poem, much to my sister’s dismay, and he allowed me to take that collection of poems as well a book of Wadsworth’s poems to my room so I could read them whenever I wanted. That day I discovered a passion for poetry and literature beyond childhood books.

During the same year, I was reading “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm” when I noticed the lyrical titles of the chapters and imagined them as titles of poems.  I spent the afternoon writing a poem for each chapter title - I believe there were nine or ten of them.  And, that is how I discovered that I could write poetry.  In fifth and sixth grades I excelled at all forms of writing - poetry, essays, stories.  By then I knew my passion was the written word and I intended to be a writer.  But, life got in the way.  I was told that writers rarely can support themselves with their craft, that writing as a professional was impractical.  I adjusted my dream a little and went to college to become a teacher, figuring I would write on the side.  Due to financial problems I never finished school.  Needing to support myself I worked at whatever jobs I could get.  I married and still needed to keep working.  I found I had a knack for bookkeeping and found my niche in the business world doing that and eventually came to establish my own bookkeeping service.  I like what I do, but cannot say that I am passionate about it.

After getting married and all during my 20's, I continued to write - a little bit - poems for my husband or for friends on their birthdays.  Back then we still wrote letters and I could write a darn good letter!  But, by my 30's the writing stopped.  I still read, but I veered away from literature and poetry and spent my time on best-sellers.  I not only lost my passion for the written word, but for life in general.  As I have undergone great changes in the last nine years, my passion for life has returned and with it my love of the written word.  Slowly I’ve been reacquainting myself with writing and that has led to this blog. 

One way to identify your purpose, your passion is to think of the one activity that makes you lose all track of time.  The one thing you love to do, or once loved to do, that makes you feel as if time is standing still.  Writing does that for me.  And now I am using my writing to activate my newer passion of Manifesting Mount Dora! 

Many people have not found a way to turn their passion into a living and some prefer that their passion not become as ordinary as a method to pay the bills.  I don’t make a living writing and that is okay for now.  Maybe some day I will, but for today I enjoy exercising my passion this way.  What is your passion, your purpose?  Are you living it in some fashion right now?  If not, can you find a way to incorporate your passion into your present life?  Try and see how much happier you will be.