Author: Regina Cates

At one time I walked through life with a chip on my shoulder. I thought being angry and sometimes rude would help keep me from being hurt. One day I woke up to the fact that the aggressive and defensive energy I put out was exactly the energy I got back.  And, when I honestly looked at my behavior I realized that I ended up being hurt much more as a result of that angry and rude chip.

I no longer have the view other people are out to hurt me, or take what I want, or that they are going to use and abuse me. I believe the difference is that I realize the energy I put out is reflected back to me. While everyone I meet is not courteous and kind the vast majority are.  It seems the saying, “birds of a feather flock together,” is true because today the loving, patient, and accepting energy I put out is returned to me so much more than not.

Looking back I would not have imagined that changing my attitude would make a 180 degree difference in the ease by which I now travel through life. I am so grateful that I no longer focus on what other people need to do. I am so grateful I learned my best life is created by remaining focused on what I need to do to keep me happy, respectful, and peaceful.

The foundation of all successful relationships is trust.  Being able to depend on those we care about provides a sense of security and safety.  We can’t trust someone who says one thing and does another.

I remember when my mom was smoking she always said, “Do as I say, not as I do.” The problem with that line of thinking is that we learn how to behave by watching others.  People may think their words are what influences us. The truth is our actions are what teach acceptable behavior.

An important thing to remember about establishing trust in relationship is words are cheap.  We can say whatever we want but our actions must align with our words.  If what we say and our actions don’t align then it is lying.

Another thing to keep in mind is that non-verbal communication is almost 93% of all our communication.  So while we may say one thing with our words, our body will always tell the truth.  People can read our body language.  If we are lying they will feel it.

Love yourself by making sure your words and actions line up.  You will respect and trust yourself and other people will respect and trust you too.

I recently asked someone for her help to get a package to someone she knows.  Before asking her, I repeatedly assured her that she could say no to my request.  I told her it would be absolutely okay for her to refuse to help. But without one bit of hesitation she said yes and seemed excited.  Part of our initial conversation was letting her know this was a time sensitive situation. I needed the item delivered to the person she knew within a week to give them time to respond before a deadline. She assured me she would get the task done right away; within a few days.

After a week without any news I wrote an email to see about the progress.  She replied that she had been busy and was working on it.  After another week without any communication from her I wrote again and she assured me her schedule was now free.  Two weeks in and the deadline was rapidly approaching.

After another week without any word, time was running out so I contacted her again.  In response I got an angry email saying she would not help and reprimanded me for not respecting her boundaries. Needless to say I was shocked because no matter how many times I told her to say no upfront if she did not want to follow through on my behalf, she never once set a boundary of any kind. In each communication she assured me she would help. Now she was angry because she never intended to follow through but rather than say no upfront, she continued to say yes.

Healthy relationships are founded on mutual respect and trust. But being respected and trusted comes from being honest. We don’t establish trust or respect when we don’t say NO upfront to requests we do not want to do. Often we don’t say no because we fear being disliked. So we say yes without considering if we really want to do whatever it is that is being asked of us, or not.  When we go against the promises we make we get angry. Often we mistakenly take that anger out on the person we made the promise to.  Really our anger is at ourselves for not doing what we said we would.  We are angry because we did not say NO upfront.

It is okay to ask people for help. And, it is okay to say no. In fact it is a thousand times better to say no upfront than say yes but never follow through.

Be a true friend to yourself by courageously saying no upfront to anything you are not comfortable doing.  Respect yourself and other people enough to be honest.  The relationships that last are the ones where it is absolutely okay to say no and it is okay to be told no.

 

1. No is part of your vocabulary. You set healthy and clear boundaries by defining what behaviors are unacceptable in your relationships. You don’t care about being popular because self-respect comes from clearly, peacefully, and directly communicating how you desire to be treated. You do not allow abuse or mistreatment to continue, hoping the other person will change. Once you’ve set a boundary you don’t back down or cave.  While boundaries may not make you popular you know defining behavior that is not acceptable in relationship brings a higher level of awareness to situation than what created them in the first place.  
2. Self-care is a top priority. Nurturing your body, getting enough sleep, eating healthy, a massage, down time from technology, regular physical and dental examinations, periods of peaceful silence, time in playful activities, taking deep breaths, having someone watch the children, etc. are all ways of taking care of you.  You are devoted to making sure you give to others without feeling resentful.  That means you find ways to give to yourself each and every day. 
3. Self-sacrifice is healthy, not codependent. You are not responsible for the actions of others. Nor do you cover up or try to protect people from get back the consequences of their actions. While you are a support to others you don’t carry their burdens or worry about their problems. You accept you cannot change others and you don’t let yourself feel obligated to do what others expect at the expense of your needs. You don’t need someone to complete you rather you define your own self-worth and value.  You feel deserving of loving and being loved in a mutually respectful relationship.

We’ve all heard happiness comes from within. Someone else cannot make us happy. We must create our own happiness.  That we are not responsible for another person’s behavior, only for how we behave in response.

I agree. Yes, I am in charge of choosing to be happy, for seeing my glass as full rather than empty, for concentrating on the light at the end of the tunnel, for not depending on others for my overall peace and joy, and for opting NOT to ego-box with people who behave rudely.

Yet, the longer I live, the more I observe the daily interactions we have, I am convinced there is another side to the personal happiness coin that needs a lot more press.  The flip side is that you are not the only one responsible for your happiness. I play a role too, because my behavior creates a wake that sends energy outward just like a boat creates waves on water.

Yes, your overall contentment with life is absolutely your responsibility. And, the other half of that truth is that no matter how much you take responsibility for creating your own happiness – Congratulations by the way! – what I do DOES impact your happiness factor.

You are not going to be happy no matter how much deep breathing you do if I have a cell phone conversation during the middle of your child’s play, a movie, or at the theatre.  You can focus all your energy on remaining peaceful but happiness will elude you when I ignore traffic signs and make an illegal U-turn causing a traffic jam. Your calm and balance will go out the window when I behave thoughtlessly and cause a ripple effect that washes negatively over you.

The flip-sided truth to your happiness factor is that although I may live in a free country, I am not entitled to behave as I please! I am not free to do what I want without regard to the consequences of my actions. Action without accountability is not free. There are always consequences!

Our satisfaction and fulfillment in life comes from actively creating and nurturing good relationships with everyone, not just our family and friends. I learned that good relationships are not possible if I speed through life carelessly behaving as if I have a special pass to do whatever I want. Today I realize caring about the effect my actions cause is what makes me feel fantastic about me. I now accept there is nothing naïve, submissive, or weak about choosing to stop rushing through life without paying attention to my actions. Real courage is slowing down to keep my heart open to care about you too. That is the responsibility I have for your happiness.

Money does not make you rich, character does. There are lots of wealthy people who are absolutely impoverished in character.  You cannot buy a reputation for being a person of good character. It is earned by being a respectful, kind and responsible. You are truly wealthy when you accept the greatest legacy you will ever leave is choosing how well you live.

The match head bounces roughly along the edge of the matchbook.  On first strike it ignites in a flash of orange sparks and threatens to go out with each step I take. I carefully deliver life to a candle sitting close to my bed.

Technology provides life-saving medicines and jet-propelled shuttles.  Electricity, the pulse of our nation’s daily life, continues to flicker on and off with regularity.

Glowing warmly, the candle illuminates a small corner of my room.  At first it crackles and sputters as the wax of a new wick struggles to catch fire.  Soon it burns steadily, with only an occasional flicker when a draft from a half-closed window sweeps through the room.

Surveying my surroundings, I am unaffected by the dust on the dresser or the pair of worn jeans tossed haphazardly across a far corner chair.  I take a book from the nightstand and settle down.   Reading by candlelight sounds romantic, but it is difficult.  Nevertheless, watching television, listening to the radio, or dusting will have to wait.

I close my eyes and am cradled in darkness.  My mind circles and wanders through thoughts of the day.  Resisting the urge to put pen to paper and begin a list of things to do, I allow myself to drift.  The peaceful sound of rain carries me away.

… I grab the shiny chrome handlebars of my new blue Schwinn and snap my eyes shut.  With the confidence I have been given superhero ability to ride a bike with my eyes closed, I pedal fast.  Two seconds pass, possibly five, of blissful riding, then crash, into a neighbor’s sedan.  As I am falling to the pebble–strewn pavement, my mind anticipates my father’s looks and my reproach. I’m not badly hurt, but my superhuman powers are not strong enough to stop a tear from falling as a drop of blood appears from a small cut on my knee.  Softly Mom kisses my wound and tenderly places a band-aid on it. A gentle reminder to be careful and watch for parked cars…

… Easter.  A small yellow mass sits in my cupped hands.  My sister, two years younger, rubs her chubby finger over the baby chick’s head.  I watch carefully, observing each stroke, cautious.  My sister’s eyes are wide with wonder as she lifts the downy soft feathers to investigate the tiny chick.  Being older and more experienced, I am hesitant to let her touch it for too long.  I use my sweetest voice to convince her baby chicks must have rest between petting.   The chick cheeps loudly as it is released. My sister and I watch as it determinedly pecks at invisible things hiding in the grass…

… After asking three times, I hesitate at a fourth for fear of being scolded for breaking mother’s concentration, again.  The highway is narrow. In the back seat, where I am sitting with my window wide open, I feel a whoosh as each car passes too closely, I feel, to ours.  At five, I am a backseat driver. As we travel the single-lane highways of South Texas, I search the horizon for over-the-line autos, stray cows, and soda shops close to a turn-off.  Three hours seem an eternity when traveling to Granny’s house. After only minutes, the games were played, songs sung, snacks eaten, and not one cow in sight.  I curl up on the floorboard and listen to the tires on the road.

Lulled into a sleepy state, I feel the rhythm as we cross a wooden bridge — click-clack, click-clack, click-clack — a rapid cadence.  I scurry up to the window just as we complete the crossing and reach the pavement again.  Back on the floorboard, I am soon stirred by a honk.  I untangle my arms and legs in time to return the bald man’s wave as we pass his car.  Without asking, mother volunteers: only twenty minutes more. Soon I leap from the confinement of my back-seat responsibilities and into the arms of my Granny…

… A temporary captive of lace and bows, I rush to my room and quickly shed my Sunday best.  Almost tripping over the dress as it clings to my ankles, I jump high, finally achieving the altitude necessary to free myself from the bright green material.  Hurriedly I don jeans and a T-shirt.

Piling into the car as we do most Sunday afternoons, we are off — my best friend, his brother, my sister, and our moms.  The winding road to the park reminds me of a snake, weaving in and out of tall grass.  We pass duck ponds, a golf course, and the horse arena, arriving at last to a playground full of adventure — but without swings, slides, or merry-go-rounds.

Unspoiled, this part of the Guadalupe River is teaming with opportunity.  Thick vines cascade from sturdy live oaks lining the river’s edge.  Run-off channels rise from the river up to the street.

“I’m a pioneer,” my best friend exclaims, scampering up the gully on a mission to discover uncharted territory.  Following quickly behind, I search for buffalo.

The afternoon sun beats down. Squinting against the bright reflection from the river below, I watch as my sister struggles to climb up, my friend’s little brother close behind.  We toss a few clods of dirt over the side, a bombardment intended only to discourage younger siblings from following. Mother and her friend pass the time at a picnic table close to the river.

It seems we are there too briefly when a honk signals the roundup has begun. In the car, I take a final glance back as we reach the top of the hill, realizing it will be at least six days before we return to the wonder of this place…

It is still dark outside as I slowly open my eyes.  The vibrant memories of childhood summers pass rapidly.  Softball games with hot dogs, summer camp and mosquitoes, band concerts and school fairs, and endless memories of growing up in a small, weather-beaten Texas town.

The candle burns brightly as I revisit a steady stream of friends and events long forgotten.  As I close my eyes again, I make note not to wait for a storm to plunge routines into darkness before I return to the sights and sounds discovered while listening to candlelight.

           Today is bright and shining like a polished emerald.  At first the trees, grass, and bushes seem to blend into a sea of green, but closer inspection reveals each plant’s uniqueness in color and individual contribution to the whole.  

Skipping a stone across a small lake in Central Alabama, I am reminded of doing the same as a child.  Although I am more accurate today, the thrill of seeing the smooth flat stone skip twice, and often three or four times, is as I remember.  The playmates of my youth have been replaced with a three-legged dog named Lucky and a small furry one named R.J.

R.J., who has traveled hundreds of miles in her sixteen years, struggles to catch up when Lucky and I stop at the lake.  Mostly behind us, rarely ahead, R.J. is always there as we walk through the woods, stopping frequently to search for morsels of food left by previous visitors.  Her life is a constant hunt for the bit of sandwich that has fallen.

Lucky continuously wags her pleasure at life, a necessary movement to remain balanced, but I choose to see it as an expression of joy at being alive. Like a deer, she hop-lopes toward an approaching group.  A mother, father, and children out enjoying the day call to the sweet dog that leaps high into the air as she prances toward them.  Anticipating that they may not notice Lucky’s missing leg, I go to greet them with her story ready.

“Wow!  That dog only has three legs,” one of the children exclaims before I can say a word.  Briefly my faith is restored as the youngest child sees what most do not.  The questions fly fast…who, what, when, where, why?

I pause slightly before answering.  Looking into innocent young eyes, I am tempted to soften my answer, but in the end I do not. She was rescued from a dumpster, I tell them, and fixed up like new, with three legs serving her as well as four could have.  Wiggling with delight at the momentary attention, Lucky wags a final farewell as the group rounds the bend and vanishes; young voices wafting back deliver the only proof of our meeting.

R.J. continues her predictable habit of arriving well after anything she may have found the least bit interesting.  Never an enthusiastic dog, R.J. manages a brief motion of her tail in recognition of Lucky and me.  This greeting is familiar to all who know her.  Most of us feel complimented she acknowledges us at all.

Almost half of my life has been spent caring for and tolerating R.J.  Another rescue, she has spent her life totally committed to the pursuit of food.  When not eating, sleeping, or dreaming of her next meal, R.J. will at times require a smidgen of attention, allowing me a brief moment to stroke her behind her ears.

Frisky and fluffy, she entered the world to look forever like a furry bat on four legs.  Although many have complimented her cuteness, she is a cranky, seemingly always hungry, scruffy little half-pint ball of fur and teeth.  R.J. knows the world revolves around her, and is jealous to the core. She allows Lucky only the smallest considerations and often nips at her only remaining back leg.  R.J. is serious about driving away any competition for my affection.  Sitting on my lap, she grins at Lucky with curled lips, gloating in her victory over the younger, stronger, and much bigger dog.

Seasons change and new smells fill the air.  People come and go and yet our story line remains mostly unchanged.  Like a long-running play, our days together are familiar.  We appreciate this pattern and the special time we share.  There is an understanding without words.  Sitting between my furry friends, I feel at home. The friendship of these dogs is pure and their love unconditional.  While I am away, I know they are curled up napping or rising occasionally to stretch or turn to a better position.

I often believe they lead boring lives, yet they seem happy enough.  Outings to a park or lake are squeezed in when the schedule allows.  Watching them roam and encounter new adventures is my reward.  They wait patiently for signs of change in our daily routine.  They allow me to cry, to be angry, and to love without expectation.  They are there when I am sick, lonely, or confused, knowing that I am somehow different.

A time will come too soon, I am sure, when R.J. will leave us.  I have allowed myself to daydream of how best to send off my friend.  Each plan seems lacking, and my indecision affords me the hope that she will remain with me forever.

I am certain Lucky will not miss being taunted, but I wonder if she will miss the familiar smell of her little companion.  Hesitant in the past to ride in the car without R.J., Lucky may again be suspicious.  Our routine will change.

My friend’s passing will leave a void that will not easily be filled.  Someday new routines will be established, broken now and then with outings.  Lucky will lope toward a new adventure, and for some time I will turn frequently to glance back over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of my R.J. coming steadily after us—mostly behind, rarely ahead, but always there.

Who are we?

Since the beginning of recorded time, humans have documented the search for the answer to who we are. How did the ancients comprehend themselves among the points of light in the night sky? Did they feel small surrounded by the majesty of the natural world?

The Greek sage Aristotle wanted to understand our reality and believed all people, by nature, desire to know. Over the centuries, countless scientists and philosophers continued the quest to discover our place in the universe and the meaning of life. Since the mid-twentieth century, physicists have worked on a Theory of Everything, a single formula to answer all of our big questions.

You and I are no different from the great pursuers of significant answers in our desire to truly be aware of ourselves. Each of us is hard-wired to examine and navigate the ever-growing realm of inner and outer discovery.  With each new achievement, we seem more certain of who we are.

We are physical beings capable of fantastic feats of strength and endurance. We are intellectual beings who create scientific, medical, and technological marvels. We are emotional beings with an extraordinary capacity for sensitivity.  We experience ourselves and our surroundings through the senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste.

In addition to the physical, emotional, and intellectual capacities and the senses by which we perceive stimuli originating from outside or inside our body, a higher wisdom exists within us. I have known it from my first memory.

I was eighteen months old.  I was watching my newborn sister being carried by two nuns down a long sidewalk.  The tips of their hats flopped up and down in rhythm to their synchronized footsteps.  I was aware of each step, each sway of their robes as they moved closer and closer.  My senses were heightened. The sky was a magnificent deep blue.  Seagulls squawked overhead.  The air smelled like the sea. A cool breeze raised goose-bumps on my arm.

I watched expectantly from the back seat of our car as the nuns gently placed a bundle in my mother’s lap.  I peeked over the seat and saw a tiny pink face, eyes squeezed tight against the bright sunlight.

Unable to have children of their own, our parents adopted my sister and me.  Many important events in life have left crystal–clear memories within my heart, but none compares to that special day when my sister joined our family.  Awakened to the power of living in the present moment, I received a sister, and with an open heart I became conscious of all that we are.

It took years for me to describe what actually happened on that day.  As a child, being present and open–hearted is natural. And, as children, we lack the ability to understand how special it is to remain open and present in the now moment as we grow up.

I now realize that day was significant because I was aware of observing myself observing the world, its inhabitants, and my surroundings with a wide-eyed wonder.  Now, many years later, I am able to express the experience as simultaneously seeing myself clearly and feeling myself fully as both participant in and witness to life.  I became aware that day of a peaceful, present, and patient existence within my being. Connected to this part of my Self, I remembered that we are spiritual beings.

As a result, I am aware how powerful each of us is in the moment at hand. In the present NOW we are capable of awakening to ourselves and acting as the conscious beings we are.

Knowing ourselves as soul requires a deep faith in what we cannot see.  We may never prove our soul’s existence with scientific, intellectual, or theological theories.  Attempting to prove soul’s existence with one’s intellect is like trying to see black holes in space.

“Is seeing black holes important?” asks Neil DeGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist with the American Museum of Natural History.  “No.  What’s important is that we can see a black hole’s paw print.  We see them by observing the impressions they leave.”

Our spirit’s “paw print” is also clearly visible through the impressions we leave. When we give as we want to receive, listen as we want to be heard, and speak as we want to be spoken to, the wisest, most powerful part within us—spirit—permeates each cell, each breath, and each beat of our heart. Soul’s awareness surrounds us and fills us with love, which fuels our desire to live an ordinary life in the most extraordinary way:  remembering we are Divine beings on great human adventures.