RB006 Yes, There Really Is Sunshine After The Storm

Posted on : 17-03-2014 | By : Lynn | In : Baby Boomer, Choices, Featured, Humor

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One of the most difficult things to remember when you suffer from the blues now and again or full-blown depression is that there really will be sunshine after the storm.   Part of the insidiousness of experiencing the tarry black hole of despair is that, when in the midst of it, we’re convinced that this is the way our life is, the way our life has always been and the way our life will always be.

Repeat after me:  This is NOT the way it has ALWAYS been, this is NOT the way it will ALWAYS be and there REALLY WILL BE  SUNSHINE AFTER THE STORM.

Repeat as necessary.

out-black-hole-depression-wanda-rainey-paperback-cover-art  If you’ve read my blogs, you know that some of the tools that I’ve created and include in my trusty tool box of “having the life I truly want” may only be found in my tool box…so I share them with you to inspire you to take, use, re-design and/or create a totally new tool for yourself.

One such tool is to get really angry at the inky black despair that has slowly filled in the edges of my life.  Eventually, somehow, that anger attracts humor which births my own personal form of really dark humor. Might not be appreciated much by  Mother Theresa, but it does manage to help me break into the main shaft of the catacombs of my depression to begin the trek towards the light.

It must of been during one of these dank episodes that a fellow traveler of life coined the phrase “Really?!?!?”.   Saying, “really?!” feels so app when you’re simmering your anger within a broth of blue and begin noticing just how many ingredients it took to make up this stew that you’re in.  I’ve had moments in this midst that I have actually felt burbling laughs of glee because I so couldn’t wait to share with another just how crappy “life was being to me.”   The crux of the mix is when I realize that I had contributed much with my salty perspective.  I’ve found separating the good-Lynn from the blue-Lynn is advantageous at this time.  Call it denial, call it irresponsible but being able to put the blame of my tainted musings on an inanimate object such as “the depression” or “the blues” enables me to sniff out more absurdities of perspective rather than layer blame upon blame on myself.

As I write this blog I can feel the clouds circling my brain sprinkling out reminders of financial insecurity, aging, etc. and so if I take a tip from myself and go into the eye of the storm before it even sets into motion, I can already see some of the absurdities of how I respond to life uprooting themselves for viewing and pleasure.  For example, this weekend my young neighbors came to our door asking for help concerning a beautiful, starved Labrador Dog that a friend had rescued.  In the course of meeting the dog, I learned that our neighbor family had suffered from “foot-mouth” disease over the past month.  Just the mere mention of fever blisters was enough for my lips to begin tingling and popping forth with a set for each side of my mouth of one of the banes of existence that has not darkened the shores of my lips for at least a year.  I could pile this reality on to the reality of looking for a steady income and really just nose dive into a fetal position but instead will relish the absurdity of it all!

For you see dear beloved ones I really do believe there will be sunshine after the storm(s)!

Sunshine-through-clouds-1024x680

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WRITE010 Finding Hope Out of the Most Unlikely Places

Posted on : 08-12-2012 | By : Lynn | In : Featured, Humor, Mind Fodder

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A couple of days ago I was driving down the highway in a rush to get by Starbuck’s before my next meeting across town and an El Camino up ahead caught my eye not so much because I hadn’t seen one in at least a handful of years but rather because it was in pretty much mint condition.  And then I noticed the driver, he had long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail and a mustache under his nose.  I noticed that up on his reviewer mirror hung a handicapped tag.  I’m not quite sure if I fantasized that he resembled Sam Elliott’s “The Stranger” from the Big Lebowski or if he actually did have the countenance of him, so for the sake of this blog we’ll pretend that he was.

The main point of this whole memory is that of all the things at 3pm on a consistently sunny day that could make me feel hopeful, this aging baby boomer with his gray pony tail and El Camino did just that.  The hope swam up at me out of a swarm of realizing that in a world of 7 billion people, and 311,591,917 of those people living in the good ole USA, seems like most people have become the cookie cutter image of the cookie cutter box stores with very little unique qualities evident to the outside world.  Of course, you and I both know that we’re all unique; however, many of us have just gotten really good at hiding ourselves under the shell of sameness like a million tiny crabs scuttling along the beach.

Oh sure, you could argue that this pony-tailed boomer also came out of a generation of many of us following the same trip, but jimminy when you consider all the changes that we boomers have undergone and endured since the high-flying times of the 60’s and 70’s, well, those of us that have held on to our threads and ways give me heart.  I think it’s because of what I’ve experienced that goes with all of that.  The awareness and consciousness of the people and the world around them/us as well as the curiosity to still ask questions.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now that although there are some differences between the aging hippies today and the 20-somethings, they all speak the same language.  If ever there was a time in history when we needed inter-generational communication and connection, it is now. And if ever there was a time when this was possible, it is now.   The old can help the young and the young can help the old.  And I suspect that they would find each other very interesting.    I’m an interviewer in the core of my being, so I’ve had the opportunity to talk to many people from both of these generations and so there’s some meat behind my words. There’s substance in them thar hills of wishful thinking.

So next time you just happen to glance over and see someone who is an aging flower child remember, “The Dude Abides”….

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