Compassion Judgment

• Main Entry: com·pas·sion
• Pronunciation: \kəm-ˈpa-shən\
• Function: noun
• Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French or Late Latin; Anglo-French, from Late Latin compassion-, compassio,from compati to sympathize, from Latin com- + pati to bear, suffer — more at patient
• Date: 14th century

: sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it

synonyms see pity

• Main Entry: judg·ment
• Variant(s): or judge·ment \ˈjəj-mənt\
• Function: noun
• Date: 13th century

1 a : a formal utterance of an authoritative opinion b : an opinion so pronounced 2 a : a formal decision given by a court b (1) : an obligation (as a debt) created by the decree of a court (2) : a certificate evidencing such a decree 3 a capitalized : the final judging of humankind by God b : a divine sentence or decision; specifically : a calamity held to be sent by God 4 a : the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing b : an opinion or estimate so formed 5 a : the capacity for judging : discernment b : the exercise of this capacity 6 : a proposition stating something believed or asserted

synonyms see sense

Painted faint blue, there is only wall inside my bedroom that isn't brick or consummed up by closet doors (not a complaint) . This wall has become the head board of sorts for my bed and where I've display a collection of "dreamtime" objects. The objects are close to my light switch. So when ever I flip the switch, before I leave the room or fall asleep, they remind me of wonderful and loving things and people in my life. This transformation or realization or affirmation only takes a moment. In the time it takes to flip a switch I have filled my heart, refresh my perspective as if I've just woke from a sleep to the warm sunlight of a new day with all its possibilities.

A few of the objects on my wall of sweetdreams and memories are: a photograph of Brad holding a paper smilie face with Naugha's nosed poking through the center, a drawing from Tara of our magical visit with the Bonsi trees in DC, the first photograph of me as an adult that I actually liked taken by Jackie, a monarch butterfly print from a workshop in Big Sur with the Chicas Guapas, a lovely illustrated thank you card from Deb and my "superpowers surfaced when worn" oil painting of pink girly panties. But the one thing that always catches my eye is a olive colored postnote that reads in my handwriting, "When I hide my compassion behind judgment, I hide my true self".

At the end of the day before my head hits the pillow and my mind wonders off to dream, that paper reminds me that I have a choice and a responsibility for my actions and reactions of each day. And it also reminds me that at the end of each day if I wasn't able to act or respond as well as I wanted, tomorrow is another opportunity, a day of endless possibilities.

umbilical cord

Function:

noun

Date:

1753

1 a: a cord arising from the navel that connects the fetus with the placenta and through which respiratory gases, nutrients, and wastes pass b: yolk stalk2: a tethering or supply line (as for an astronaut outside a spacecraft or a diver underwater)3: a necessary, supportive, or nurturing link or connection

"How DARE He!" actually it was something worse, a series of sentences fueled with hate and contempt for the he and me.

Meanwhile Guillermo, the wise teddy bear that he is, leaned closer and said "Maria, if you were dating someone, you wouldn't care about anything he has ever said- past,present or future." 

But the rage I had wrapped around me distorted my senses so I could only hear "date someone and you'll feel superior". My wound was about leveling, feeling inferior or superior not about feeling better.

It took me years to excavate to find the gem of his wisdom.

Several years after a rather ugly break-up I was still feeling the sting of words said in the relationship. The emotional umbilical cord was still attached. Although the charge was waning, it still had power. The stinging power I fed it. I was the judge, jury, prosecutor, and defendant. On trial using my hindsight to shock my heart in to submission with  NEVER AGAIN will I...  The list was endless but it was screaming one word: love. Never again will I love. This was the agreement, the conditioning to which I was torturing myself . I was threatening my heart. Stripping it of  its sole purpose, to love. 

With this awareness, guidance and time, I've been able to relieve the judge and dismiss the whole trial. Now I clearly see the hands that have twisted, squeezed my loving heart were, are mine. When I was finally able to slowly release my heart and welcome it back into my body, I was told of it's gift. The heart purpose is not just to love but to love unconditionally. 

Now that has been a hell of a  journey to accept. As it sinks into my awareness I'm reminded of the clouds that have been covering the sun in the city the past few weeks. This plague of clouds causing the rain and the blocking of vitamin D and even has been attributed to the "rain rage" ( the NYTimes). Although this condensed vapor blocks the sun's rays, there is no doubt. The Sun is still there shining just as brightly as if there wasn't a barrier. The Sun, so bright that any cracks in the clouds and its light will shine right through. 

And the gem from Guillermo's wisdom; I believe what he was really trying to tell me, that if I were happy, realizing the wonderful things that fill my life then there would be no room or power for the negative.

So even though today it might be cloudy, I feel the sun inside me radiating with unconditional love just waiting for the clouds to yield at anytime, even if only for moment.

What is userfriendly?

Main Entry:

us·er–friend·ly 

Pronunciation:

\ˌyü-zər-ˈfren(d)-lē\

Function:

adjective

Date:

1977

: easy to learn, use, understand, or deal with <user–friendly software> ; also : agreeable, appealinguser–friendly atmosphere>

— user–friendliness noun

This blog was the brain child birthed by a long distance phone conversation:

Again my cell was quitting, shutting off during a friend's call. Besides being RUDE, bad phone, it was rather annoying to have to open the back of the phone, pull out the battery, put it all back together and then wait for the hour glass ( there's a reason it's called that and not a seconds glass) to quit spinning and then reboot the home screen. By that time my dropped friend has had time to call me twice and leave at least one message of what the F#$k?! - except Tara, because they don't cuss like truckers or me in Vancouver... I've learn that first hand! 

This time I decided to plug the phone in to see if the battery was the issue, when I returned her call. Magic... also magic; I've noticed that my refrigerator is no longer making that annoying fish tank filter sound it's been humming rather loudly. -It must have heard that I might have to REPLACE it, I'll have to check that out when I get up for some more coffee. 

Getting back to this story... I was excitedly receiving a phone call from a friend who I had been thinking of the day before. She lives on the West coast. So taking in the time difference, she called right on time. We chatted some silly stories. She pleasantly listened and chuckled when I threw in something funny. The distance faded, the time apart disappeared. We were both in the moment. Whether we were retelling a story or describing a taxing situation, we were so grounded in the moment of hearing each other. We might have well just been across from the table drinking coffee, like we did so many years ago. 

She might have called me because she sensed my thinking of her or really, to thank me for the chiapas coffee bean she had received in the mail, or to ask me  one of those "what do you think" questions we ask our loving friends.

In the past few years, with my friends and I all living long distances from each other, we've had to rely on phone calls, emails and text to reconnect. As a conduit to those times when we would sit at the coffee shop, or bar, and share our stories and then open our hearts to ask each other a "what do you think" question. We relied on the honestly and the loving understanding of the other person to give us the truth as they see it. We still need that. Even the distances can't keep us from reaching out to our core group; those who knew us before we became who we are today and live in the cities we live in today. They are the anchor for our reality, the source for our understanding why we're doing, what we're doing, today. I adore them. Love them wholeheartedly, to be humbly honest with them when I find it hard to look at my refection in the mirror and I need them to as a mirror.

This is for them, me and you.