Author: mykitchentable2017

  • What we think is missing from inside most of us – a lesson in leadership

    What we think is missing from inside most of us – a lesson in leadership

    I have been reading an extraordinary new book about 9/11, “Proud to Serve”, by Colonel Shawn P. Walsh, US Army Retired. Its focus is of course the experience of the writer but also the lesson he found in tragedy.  A lesson in leadership and how it evolves.  

    Side note:  I find it incredibly coincidental that I am reading this book at the same time I have become  involved with an organization- @Speak Boldly – that largely promotes a strikingly similar approach to leadership, courage and the release of inner strength, through storytelling.

    Within Colonel Walsh’s narrative of the events of that horrific day, the question he explores is this:  how and why does someone become a leader.  There are so many theories about this.

    • Are you born with the instinct to lead?  
    • Is  being a leader something certain people assume they have – an expectation based on how they are treated or perceived by others? 
    • Are you groomed to be a leader?
    • Does it somehow emerge in a moment whether you want it to and are ready – or not?
    • Is it a natural progression because of your upbringing and education?

    There is so much more to his story but with just this single question – how do leaders become leaders – considered against the backdrop of the 9/11 tragedy – he comes to a conclusion that I find to be most likely.

    Of course all of these theories are possible. But I think the most important and impactful leaders are unexpected and probably unprepared. I think that the leaders who make the biggest difference are those ordinary people who in a moment rise up and profoundly affect others. After reading this book and actually watching this happen I am more and more convinced of this.

    And naturally I am inclined to think about it within the context of my kitchen table and who sits there. Could there be a leader somewhere in the mix.  My response is “certainly not”.  But what I have begun to understand from this book and my experience with Speak Boldly, is that leadership takes many forms.  It is not one size fits all. And it often happens when least expected and maybe unwanted – but necessary.  And most importantly it can rise in the most unexpected of people. 

    Leadership can be quiet or even silent.  I am realizing that it can stand unseen and tacitly in the background – but it is nonetheless powerful.  It can exist without attention or request.  And most importantly for me it exudes an unseen and inaudible impression that can fill a room.  

    It is often the silent look of someone that makes you immediately feel safe, protected and you know with certainty that this is the person to watch and hear.  That this the person to follow, mirror, and attend to.  

    As I write this I wonder how many of us believe that leadership shows up this way rather than being chosen or groomed.  I imagine not many.

    I think that our idea of who becomes a leader in any circumstance, is often a product of expectation, the expectation of those around them. Those who look up to someone because they are well known, athletic, intellectual, highly educated, wealthy, you name it. These are things that our society values and therefore are considered to be traits of a leader. But that is a very flawed perspective.

    As Proud to Serve emphasizes, and I think Speak Boldly promotes, true trustworthy leadership may not be a personality trait at all – innate or learned.  Maybe it is instead something demanded of us in moments here and there. I think I probably fall in that space.  I don’t believe I am a leader.  But I do now believe that when necessary or desired one of the Karens, maybe yet another a new one, will grab a seat at the head of the table.  Maybe she comes and goes.  Maybe she is a leader to only to certain people.  Maybe she is becoming a leader to herself.

    Less and less I think being a leader is a constant projection of authority.  But instead, and maybe this is the most authentic of all leadership, it rises and provides what is necessary to an otherwise confusing, unstable and maybe volatile situation and then falls to the background.  Nonetheless remaining a stable but unassuming force.

    I see now that the aura of the one projecting leadership remains constant, long after they are absent. Even as the circumstances seem under control or settled. Even as the crisis demanding leadership has faded.

    Although this book is written from a military perspective and experience, and I will be the first to admit that I am as far outside of that world as is possible, it provides insight and a lesson we all should learn.

    Again, I am amazed that this book has come at the same time that Speak Boldly entered my life.  Its mission quietly encourages and reinforces this same very different idea of what leadership means and how it evolves.  

    I am still reading Colonel Walsh’s words and highly recommend it @proudtoserve.  I am sure I have a lot more to take from it.  But in this moment – at this place in history – there may be little that is more important than this:

    “Leadership done right rarely announces itself” (Proud to Serve, Col. Walsh)

    And that is probably the most significant takeaway for me. So far.

    How many of us have stopped in our tracks, spun around and thought “Wow, I want to make sure I’m with them when shit goes down”. And it’s not only the giant frightening situations. It’s the little every day moments that build this. That make us feel safe and secure in our world.

    What an unexpected and rare thing it is to understand that it is actually not the loud, extremely visible, wealthy person next door but instead is the one who will quietly step to the front and shield us from all that seems wrong.

    You can get Colonel Walsh’s book here: Proud to Serve.

  • The beginning

    The beginning

    As I begin to understand the real impact of my kitchen table, I see that its beginning was not just 2017, when I started writing this blog. It began with the first significant version of me and how that tiny child and her experience shaped all of who I am today. And who I am still becoming.

    Say hello to Karen1.

    The 4 1/2 year old kindergartener who started having trouble climbing the steps to the school bus.

    Her mother noticed first and then it all unraveled.

    At first, there were simple local pediatric visits, until a specialist became necessary. Within days paralysis set in and walking was out. The diagnosis was polyneuritis, or as it’s now known, Guillain-Barre. A virus that attacks the nervous system and for which there is no treatment. I’ve always described it as being a little like polio.

    Then came the big trip to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in NYC. The one that ended, or more accurately began, with my admission to the children’s ward.

    We lived in NJ so it was a hike, usually a train ride, for my parents to visit. In those days no parent was allowed any more than normal visiting hours. Certainly not allowed to sleep there. So, I was left in a curtained slot in a ward with all the other sick children.

    It still amazes me how much I remember about this experience. It’s spotty for sure but there are definitely moments that could have happened this morning.

    Here’s what I remember:

    • Confusion
    • Fear
    • Loneliness
    • A lot of stuffed animals and cards my mother put in a scrap book that I still have today
    • My grandfather stitting with me for hours, reading books and holding my hand
    • A particularly mean nurse ripping a bandaid off my butt only to give me yet another shot. Which, by the way, was what seemed to me to be a shark spear
    • The endless stream of doctors
    • Voices from the other side of my curtain. Especially one conversation in particular when I heard a doctor tell my parents that “there is nothing we can do but wait and hope that the virus dissipates on its own. But I have to tell you that it’s reached her lungs and one side of her face and if it doesn’t subside she may die.” Yes. Right on the other side of my cheap thin curtain. This was when I could only smile on one side. This I will never forget.

    Then there was the unfortunate fact that it was winter and one day there was a big snow storm. My mom wanted to train in anyway, but my dad refused. “ It’s too dangerous” he said. The storm may have been a blizzard that lasted for days – this I cannot remember. But I do remember endless days of solitude.

    By some miracle, my tiny body began to win the fight and the virus lessened bit by bit. Within about a month, I was discharged home to extensive home physical therapy and to heal.

    Eventually, I returned to the school bus and here I am today.

    The point of this story is this.

    Prior to this experience I am told that I was an outgoing, feisty, funny, vivacious child. After, as my mother put it, I became her “shrinking violet”. Quiet, solitary, shy, uninterested, hesitant to make friends, or do anything.

    I now understand the impact that this experience had on me. Each version of me around the kitchen table is, one way or another, a reaction or response to it. Like the “Karen bitch” who pushes people away. Or the “shy Karen” always hiding so as not to be seen. The “Karen” that can only be alone for a limited time before spiraling into an anxious puddle. The “defensive Karen” who stubbornly gets immediately offended when told that she is wrong. And certainly “anxious Karen”, who fears everything and everyone, trusting no one. She smacks right into “runner Karen”. The runner is always moving because, of course, you can’t hit a moving target. She turns and runs from everything that is unknown or maybe even known. Either way, whatever is threatening triggers the starting gun. She runs partly to escape fear and uncertainty and partly because she can.

    As I said, my mother always told me that after that I was never the same.

    In many ways all of the identities that sit around my kitchen table are an unintentional way of dealing with that 4 1/2 year old reality.

    Some might meet this story with horror – especially moms. Some with doubt that an experience like that would have such a lifelong impact. And some with sadness. But I have met this with something extraordinary. First, that I’m fucking lucky to be here today and second that there is NO TIME TO WASTE.

    The many versions of me serve to protect me from the fear and loneliness that polyneuritis left behind.

    So, when you look around your table try to understand that each of your many selves serve a purpose. They are vivid examples of your own individual history. And they are to be embraced. Embraced as life savers and also as what makes you unique.

    I will admit that the Karens just keep coming.

    • Some are unintentional.
    • Some are fueled by the underlying need, whether I know it or not, to be who I was before.
    • Some are somewhat “deliberate” in that they are trying to overcome what polyneuritis left behind – like the one writing this.
    • Some are just triggered by a current event.

    But all are part of the tapestry of who I am.

  • Who the hell is this?

    Who the hell is this?

    What a great question. It appears that there is a new Karen in town and unless I’ve lost count she is Karen11, The Brave.

    Honestly, I see that photo and watch the video (link below for anyone interested in watching) and I think “Why does that woman look so familiar but seem so foreign to me”.

    This past winter I, at first reluctantly, participated in an emerging women’s speaking platform. It is aptly called –

    Speak Boldly, http://www.speakboldlyshowcase.com.

    The premise is to give women supportive space to stand up and tell their story to an audience. For me this is bone chilling and out of the range of every Karen at the table. Something I have always successfully avoided. But the platform, mostly its founder @lorraineconnell | @peersnotfears, inspires a confidence that is remarkable and understated. I’m not even sure she knows how much she radiates. And I have found that this can be addicting.

    Those who speak are women who have stories that have likely been hidden forever just waiting to be heard. We, yes we, believe that our feelings, our histories, our desires and our messages don’t have to be explained with exquisitely detailed words, practiced to exhaustion and as a result not authentic. Instead we speak with raw emotion even when we may not think we are ready or will ever be. The fear that comes with it, typically providing an easy way out, is shoved aside and we do it anyway.

    And this is what really matters to the listener. The words are straight from the heart and the authenticity of the story reaches the listener deeply – just maybe striking a nerve with them. Maybe eliciting a thought like this “Wow, I totally relate to that”.

    Then there’s me.

    As I considered doing this, the fear would be overwhelming and typically cause me to say “Hell no. I am NOT doing THAT”. The opportunity was out of the blue and frankly scared the shit out of me. But – and here’s the magic of the firehorse galloping me into action – I did it anyway.

    All of this is to say that out of this experience has emerged a new Karen. One who is probably still afraid but is willing to overcome the fear and do what scares her. To put the fear on the side burner and step into something imperfect but authentically me. Forget about hiding behind the illusion of who I think I should be. Or just plain hiding. But being honest about who I am – flaws and all. And being proud of it. Even the scary, insecure, imperfect part. Owning it all. And sharing it. Why? Because I think I have something to share that might resonate with others.

    But. . . . Naturally there is always a but.

    While considering the opportunity, this is what is rolling around inside my head:

    • Shut up and sit down. You have nothing of value to share with anyone. No one cares.
    • Omg stop. Who do you think you are? Don’t be so self important.
    • You will surely embarrass yourself, forgetting what you are trying to say, looking foolish.
    • Remember who you are – someone who watches from the back, hiding so as not to be seen or heard.
    • Start running. NOW.
    • Everyone will be rolling their eyes and laughing at you.
    • You fooled them once but twice. Come on.

    With love, Karens 1 – 10……..

    These are of course the voices of all the Karens. Battling it out. Each one just trying to protect the pack. I’ll be honest and admit that I did say “Yes, you are all right. I’m getting off the train before it leaves the station.”

    But then I thought about – well, a lot of things – but primarily the idea that this is a time of change. Yes, the firehorse again. Take what is an unnatural step for you and move forward.

    And when I asked myself, “What is the worst that could happen?”, the answer was – “If you don’t do this – you will regret it”.

    If there is one thing I can say about my life, it is that regardless of all of my decisions, the seemingly wrong turns, the hurt, the anger, I have never regretted a thing. And I don’t want to start now.

    So, I tuned the voices out and did it. And guess what. What I felt was freedom and maybe the beginning of an addiction. We’ll see how that goes but the point is that rising above the fear and all the voices was empowering. Even though I’m pretty sure my voice cracked and I stumbled a bit, I left our makeshift stage feeling like I couldn’t believe I did that and it felt pretty good.

    So welcome to the table Karen11. Let’s see how far she goes.

    Listen to Karen Speak Boldly and take a brave step into a new world here.

    OG Speak Boldly

  • Karen Speaks Boldly

    April 25, 2026

    Who Sits at Your Kitchen Table?

  • A tiny intro to Karen11

    A tiny intro to Karen11

    I’ve written recently about the year of the fire horse. This is not to belabor the point but to put into words how I have and continue to experience this very clear change in inner tides.

    2025 was a very strange year. There was definitely a shift in the way that I experience life and think about the future. I found that my tolerance of things that make me unhappy and that I might normally ignore faded. My sense of worth or value felt more justified than before.

    As a woman, it is easy to feel that you don’t deserve to be compensated like others. You don’t deserve to want more. You don’t deserve to be happy unless it comes from giving yourself to others. There is very little reinforcement of the basic human right to be valued in and of itself. Everything seems to come with a price or a trade off. I think this might be part of what I have shedded and let fall into my “shit pit”. (See my last post for a definition of that one.)

    In other words, the fire horse is fleeing from these thoughts – leaving them smoldering on the ground. This year I started to realize that maybe I am worth more than I give myself credit for.

    Caveat: Make no mistake I still suffer from the imposter syndrome and am sure that some other Karen Butz passed the bar and “they” have just not caught on yet.

    Seeing the smoldering of things I have felt my whole life really kicked my indignation into overdrive. And that is not pretty. In fact, being indignant is just plain ugly. It is an attitude that can make you mean and unkind. But as ugly as it can be, it also serves a purpose. Like the kick in the butt you need but don’t want.

    I became angry that I have spent most of my adult life feeling “less than”. Or feeling like it is not enough to simply be who I am. Because surely that is inconsequential and insignificant. Hide that shit – the you that is you – out of site.

    I now see that all of that indignation and anger was necessary for me to release or shed things that I was trying to make right or fit into. You cannot force things to be right. They will be right for you, or not, regardless of how hard you might fight for it. You can’t fit a round peg in a square hole as they say. Similarly it seems vastly wrong to just sit by and watch the real you sit on the sideline of your life. I wonder how much of life I have missed while not participating because I have felt like I was inadequate or not enough.

    The smoldering has given me the chance to believe that maybe I am valuable just as I am. That even all the imperfections, insecurities, mistakes, fears carried by all of the Karens have value. More importantly, I am beginning to think that I deserve more than I have had the audacity to want. That I am capable of doing things that I have historically feared (Like being alone or speaking in public. But more on that later) and the outcome might just be very satisfying.

    This year my insecurities and fears have started to peel away and what is beneath is completely unexpected. I found a new small sense of confidence and bravery hiding inside. And what do you know, Karen11 started to peek around the corner of the table. And that is quite a surprise. She has exposed a part of me I never thought was there.

    I have never been a brave person particularly with certain things like public speaking. Going to law school was an attempt to overcome that. It didn’t. My practice is largely transactional safely letting me avoid any risk of oral argument. Mostly.

    Karen11 has definitely caused a change in course. Not with my law practice but with something much bigger. Potentially anyway. For now I will leave it at that. If you’re curious about Karen11 and what she has brought to the table watch for my next post.

  • Ramblings about love and all its complications . . .

    Ramblings about love and all its complications . . .

    How to explain the difference between love and partnership.

    Relationships are difficult and multi-faceted. This is nothing new. There are layers and layers of love, mixed in with raw emotion, need, want, comfort, trust, timing, integration, proximity – the list could go on forever and this post would be a days long read if I explored every one.

    I am finding it most difficult to sort out the difference between, and truthfully the priority of, love and partnership. I think the partnership part is where all the layers really matter.

    For some, love is an obsession. I’m not talking about physical love but emotional love. Once it lands there is nothing else that matters. You will do anything to keep it. You feel like you can never live without it. Based on my track record some might say “hmmmmm sounds like someone I know”. But I am realizing that real deep love is something greater and the emotion is only part of it. The deeper part is that of partnership and is maybe the most important part of a relationship. With all its many layers.

    I think true partners share everything – emotions, anger, thoughts, ideas, dreams, future plans, day to day drudgery, fears, joys, hopes . . . . That doesn’t mean that there is always agreement. In fact let’s hope not.

    For me, all this sharing is largely about feeling safe.

    Partners don’t always agree nor do they avoid a good fight. This is not about having a mirror image of yourself. But it is about having someone that you feel safe with. Safe enough to be your true self, without fear of how your partner will react. Or that you will lose them. So much so that you push yourself aside to avoid conflict and in the end lose that very self.

    Feeling safe also has many layers.

    It looks like the layering of relationships is a magic phrase here.

    The most important part of this for me is feeling safe enough to believe that you – as you are – are enough. That you will be protected by this person. Again this isn’t about physical protection, although it would be nice to know that someone would take a punch for you. It is about protection of your self, your emotions. Knowing that you can be who you are without fear of loss, shame, or anger. I have a friend who calls this, astutely, emotional safety.

    I also want to be clear that safety, emotional or not, doesn’t mean being taken care of in the traditional sense. It doesn’t mean you are incapable of taking care of yourself nor does it mean that you forfeit independence.  It’s more about sharing in decision making, being supported even when you are maybe not making the best choice. It is about knowing that your partner will be there to round up your brokenness and be there while you reassemble. It’s about not having to be in charge, knowing that someone safe will pick up the slack, without having to be told to do so. And that you are safe in their hands. You and your self are protected.

    For me that is a big one. I have been in charge my whole life.

    Since I was a child actually – but that’s a post for another day.

    Not only in charge of myself, which by the way can really suck at times, but in charge of others. I am not ashamed to admit that it would be nice to let someone else take the wheel for a change. I am starting to understand that these things are what a truly loving partnership means to me. Not one or the other but all of them together, each rising up when needed. And not one sided but mutual.

    Maybe it’s a pipe dream or a matter of luck. I am not sure if it is a learned behavior or something that rises from or maybe is at the heart of a relationship. But I do know that this kind of connection and commitment without threat of – well, anything – is what matters most.

    Love without the rest is simply not enough.

  • The Fire Horse

    The Fire Horse

    This is the year of the fire horse. It starts officially today, February 17th. I’m no expert about these things but I have been reading plenty about this particular phenomenon. It goes something like this.

    2025 was the year of the snake. A year of misery for many of us consisting of trying to rid ourselves of the shit that no longer serves us. For some of us this is an overwhelming and nearly impossible undertaking. It’s a good thing that I didn’t know it was happening while it was happening because I would 100% have fought to cling to the comfort of things that have held me back. I won’t say that these things have been because of poor judgment or bad decisions but things that no longer serve me. Maybe they did once but no longer.

    This shedding is not easy. It hurts. It is a struggle. It is exhausting. I’d even say it’s physically painful. And maybe more than anything, it takes courage to endure the process. I think a lot of people have experienced shedding this year in a million different ways. But all are hard to take.

    The beauty of this now that it is almost over is that there is an end in sight. An end to those things that I should have thrown in the pit sitting below me long ago – a pit that holds all the shit that has pinned me down and that I will now fondly call my “shit pit” .

    Although I will admit that I still feel some layer of scaly skin clinging to me, resisting every yank from the horse trying to wrangle it into the shit pit, all while waiting in the wings.

    It’s hard to let go of those parts of us that have not exactly been productive – even if we didn’t know it. By unproductive I mean parts of us that may prevent us from being who we really are or are maybe meant to be. Of course, as the saying goes, “you don’t know what you don’t know”. So I think a big part of this shedding business lies in forgiveness. Not being angry for time that might have been wasted or a slew of left turns instead of right. No regret for what that old scaly skin has put us through. In fact, it may have been protecting us in some way. Thick skin can do that.

    Instead, I am trying to focus on forgiving myself for clinging to that skin for so long. My mother would have said “Stop wearing that hair shirt. No need to punish yourself, life can be hard enough.” Maybe I’m finally ready to give up that old hairy rag.

    The idea of forgiveness for me is more about saying thank you to the skin. I needed you for some time. You have served your purpose and now it’s time to join the rest in the shit pit. Easier said than done of course.

    But if this new fire horse embodies the jump into what we can be – what we are capable of. A leap over our fears, of which we Karens have many, to see what might evolve if we can just get out of our own way. Then I am all in.

    I think it will be very interesting to see if there is a vivid enough shift to notice. If there will be a moment or maybe many, that we actually feel enough to recognize it and allow it to direct or motivate our next move. Or I wonder if it will be more subtle and just happen. Like more of a slow wave we will ride into new space. Space that we have longed to fill but have not been able to step into before. Maybe we will just notice a desire to do something we never thought we would want or be brave enough to do. And then do it.

    And I think it might also be about the actual jump itself. Recognizing what is possible – releasing hesitation and jumping head first.

    I have already seen a glimpse of this in myself. An opportunity that just showed up. One that I mistook for something else and when I realized what it was – despite my fear and hesitation – did it anyway. This opportunity turned out to be the opening of a door. A new door that I would never have even noticed existed. What lies on the other side of this door remains to be seen. It’s really only open a crack. But it absolutely is exciting, hopeful and I think maybe the start of something. Actually to be blunt about it there appears to be a new Karen in town. I think she’s Karen11. More about her in another post. But for now I am so thankful that the fire horse nudged the door open and presented something I would never have expected.

    So, I am saddling up and hanging on for dear life with anticipation and hope as my fire horse heads out.

    Look at that. The last shred of scaly skin might actually have just dropped into the shit pit.

  • Peace. A message to me.

    Peace. A message to me.

    Peace is such a sweet word. It is spelled with soft, light letters. It sounds sweet and kind when spoken and it resonates in a way that sparks light and calmness.

    So why is it so hard to find.

    I hear so many – SO MANY – people: therapists, inspirational and motivational speakers, intuitives, mediums, coaches, people of all walks of life talk about the importance of peace. Of course we hear it on a larger level, especially these days, but more importantly there is the notion of finding inner peace.

    Again. why is that so hard to find.

    I think this:

    Peace is elusive. It is sneaky. It is often in disguise. And it looks and feels different to everyone.

    We – and I am speaking about me and the other Karens at my kitchen table – have a common thread that runs through all of us, as different as we are. We have tried to find peace in all the wrong places. Right now I picture all of the Karens around the table and they are frantically nodding their heads in agreement and high-fiving each other. The speech bubbles above their heads say something like this:

    “Thank God, she finally sees it.”

    “I wondered how long we’d have to wait.”

    “Jesus it’s exhausting waiting for her to get something. . . . “

    The thing I am finally getting is that I have been lost when looking for peace. I have expected that peace would come from people, from things, from spaces, from jobs, from money, from being thinner, from being prettier. You name it.

    I have whined ad nauseam to anyone who will listen that all I want is some peace. To feel whole and at rest. To feel free from worry and anxiety, anger and hurt. To just ‘be’.

    The problem is that what I have been doing is trying to find peace in my person – completely outside of my person. What I have NOT done is taken this whiny wish and accepted responsibility for finding it in my self. My ability to be at peace in the world has been entirely dependent on someone or something else. Anyone or anything other than me. I don’t necessarily mean a lover or a spouse. But most definitely someone or something other than me. I have been looking for my own peace on the outside.

    I guess I could say that this stems from the age old woman’s role model – Cinderella (or Aurora, or Snow White or – pick one – they all run from the same script). After all she certainly did not have peace while working her ass off for her horrid stepmother and sisters.

    But boy, bring in the Prince and all the flowers bloom, stars shine, birds sing and peace reigns down on her.


    Make no mistake I loved those stories. I wanted to hear them over and over again. After all they are our first ever love stories. But they certainly set us up for failure. Not many of us find a prince or princess who will ride in on a stallion, take us to their castle – with its gigantic closet – and save us. Bringing peace to us and all the land.

    As misleading as all that is, using those lovely fairy tales as an excuse for my lack of finding a peaceful existence is just that. An excuse.

    Lately, as I ponder the elusiveness of peace, I have redirected my focus inward. This is not an easy transition for me. I am far more likely to feel like I have to DO something or FIND something and finally peace will be mine. Well, I have certainly done and found a lot of things in my life. And none of it has really brought the kind of peace I am talking about.

    I am also realizing that peace is not a romantic concept. For some reason in my mind romance and peace go hand in hand. Thanks Cinderella. I appreciate the sweetness of the story but I think you are wrong. I also do not think that happiness and peace go hand in hand. In fact, I believe that even in moments of unhappiness, you can be at peace.

    So where is it and how can I have some.

    I think the probability of finding peace is all about personal acceptance. Acceptance of who we are, where we are, what we have, what we don’t have, who we are with, who we are not with . . . just acceptance of all of it. The good and the not so good together have to be enough.

    Peace is not about expectations. In fact, I think peace is more about not having expectations and instead is about feeling satisfied in the moment. Feeling grateful in the moment. It is a letting down of wanting – of needing more.

    I also think that peace is something that is perhaps momentary. It is probably a lot to ask of yourself to be at peace 100% of the time. But in certain moments I think it has to be possible if, and this is a big if, you will let it in.

    And by the way these concepts are completely ours to own. Ours alone. And that is maybe the crux of it – the magic word – Alone.

    Finding peace is most certainly tied tightly to the ability to be alone. I mean really be alone. With yourself. I don’t mean alone for an hour or a day or even a week. I also don’t necessarily mean living alone. What I mean is the aloneness that arises from being still. Being able to sit with yourself in a space that only you occupy. Space that is more than physical. More like head space. Maybe even spiritual space. Definitely quiet space. Maybe that is actually the magic word – Quiet. Quiet is something I have never been able to do – at least not without struggle.

    As soon as I find myself in the quiet, even for a few minutes, I must immediately get up and do something. Put music or TV on. Do the dishes, groceries, laundry, anything. Or maybe I decide it must be time for a nap.

    I simply cannot just sit with myself in the quiet. And just be. Without judgment or second guessing or criticism or self deprecation. Or expectations and want.

    It’s not as if I don’t like myself. I do. Most of the time anyway. But sitting with me in the quiet causes me to be antsy. Fidgety. I am immediately in dire need of a distraction. My mind starts its spinning game. How many things can I think or worry about all at the same time, running around in circles. One stopping for extra time then being pushed out of the way by another who wants center stage. It’s exhausting.

    I so envy people who sit alone – anywhere – and look completely at ease. What a concept. Being at ease with just . . . you. I have to believe that there is peace in that space. At least I hope so.

    None of this comes naturally to me. And I know that it stems from fear and anxiety. The anxiety that comes from having to hear my own thoughts. Not just hear them but listen to them. Really listen to my mind and my heart – all of it. The easy pleasant things and the dark not so fun to acknowledge things. That is of course why the spinning game was born. It leaves no time for consideration or introspection. It’s like Karen 3, the runner. She is so good at this. She knows that if you keep moving you eventually are far too tired to think, to worry, to fear. But in that exhaustion there is no peace. So running doesn’t do it. It does some things but bringing peace – not so much.

    Because after all if you hard stop and really listen to the quiet in your mind and your heart you might not like what they tell you. Better to keep spinning or running until you land on a better thought.

    So how then can one be still and find peace. I think it’s a practice and takes a conscious effort to shut out all the voices. To stop spinning – stop running – sit alone in the quiet.

    I am sure that I will have to force myself to be and stay in the quiet. And I am sure that it will not be easy to do. But I see that all the other attempts at finding peace have failed. So for peace to land safely in my lap I guess I’d better stop moving. At least sometimes.

    Let’s be Still.

     

  • March On With Your Bad Self . . . .

    March On With Your Bad Self . . . .

    In these times of uncertainty and fear in the world, led by our own narcissistic and inhumane government, I feel the need to try to focus on simple things like putting one foot in front of the other and marching on.  Although there are small things we can do to try to right the freedom ship they feel vastly ineffective.  In fact, the sense of fear for the future we all face, particularly the future our children will face, can be paralyzing. There are times when the sense of seeing what history has taught us was impossible to repeat, actually happening in real time is frightening. So much so that it becomes easy, maybe even necessary, in our everyday lives to “look away” and hope that time passes quickly and without too much irreversible damage.  March on.

    I have watched several historians repeatedly remind us that the events that are rolling out are straight from a well-known playbook.  One that feeds on small steps, complacency and reliance on our disbelief that this is in fact our reality.  And, of course, the wielding of well-financed power.  So many people continue to feel that this cannot possibly be real or permanent.  Sort of like my mother’s famous words: “this too shall pass”.   She of course didn’t come up with that gem of hope but certainly used it endlessly.  And yet I think for most of us our basic sense of decency and hope, together with that old adage, are what those in power are relying on.  

    I don’t intend this to be a politically driven post but feel the need to express my extreme disgust and fear as a signal to anyone else feeling the same.  None of us are alone in this distress and maybe just that is helpful.

    As we watch the slow and steady destruction of decency and, yes, democracy, I have begun to notice that many people, myself included, are simultaneously going through difficult personal challenges – compounding the sense of fear, loss and helplessness.  How unfair that these things are doubling down on us.  Adding to the paralysis.  It is indeed hard to find a silver lining or to not feel like everything is broken and on the fast train to . . . . . I’m not sure what.  I almost wonder if all of the larger world events have initiated a ripple effect, flowing over into our individual circumstances. It is easy to doubt your personal choices in a world that appears to be so fragile and on the verge of unavoidable wreckage.

    In trying to figure out how to stay afloat while feeling broken on so many levels, I am reminded of a short and simple post I wrote a while ago “Broken and Beautiful”, which really just cites the song by Kelly Clarkson as a reminder that even though we may be damaged – after all who isn’t? – we are still beautiful in our brokenness.  You can listen to the song in that post here.  

    Although I think the song was written with reference to personal circumstances – which coincidentally is right on the mark – I can also see the how the lyrics stretch to a bigger picture and may even provide a manner of thinking and acting that might help to reach the other side intact.

    No one gets out of here unscathed or, in the end, alive.  And as I am very fond of saying these days, there is no time to waste.  This applies now across the board for me.  Right the wrongs as best you can.  Make amends.  Be forgiving.  Create as much peace as possible.  Try to do just one thing that gives someone hope or a tiny leg up.  

    As much as I want to stay in my bubble I am acutely aware that its rim is thinning and can be easily pierced.  In some ways my bubble has already been pierced and there is a leak that has put in motion a change that I didn’t expect.  Or want but nonetheless face.  A part of me is broken and caused a change in course.  Trying to find the beauty in this brokenness is not easy.  And it is compounded by a world that appears to be breaking more every day.

    We are often told these days to “stand up, be strong, don’t fear, don’t be wild or crazy just stay the course”.  But what if those things are not who you are?

    What if your fear is what saves you?  

    What if your spontaneity or you leaping before you look is what brings you joy? 

    What if your impulsiveness sparks a new light for you? 

     Alternatively, what if your stillness is what calms you?

    What if your smallness or your scars are really where your strength lives?  

    What if your caustic side or your sarcasm are what you need to step forward?  

    On their face all of these things may seem wrong or things you should change.   They may seem to be the broken part of you but maybe they are the mending of your brokenness.

    I am not advocating that we should not change what doesn’t work or use these things as an excuse to be mean or hateful or as a crutch.  But for some, these are lifelines.  And who of us can say that they are unnecessary or wrong when we have not lived in the shoes of those who rounded a corner or came out on the other side because of them.

    So, what is this post about?  Maybe a lot and maybe nothing.  I think mostly it is me blabbering about the lack of justice, the lack of humanity, how these big world things magnify the personal crises’ that many of us are also slugging our way through.  

    I mentioned how unfair it is to have this doubling down of fear and uncertainty.  But maybe instead it’s time to rally your brokenness and embrace it as your strength.  Strength that will carry us through to the other side – wherever that happens to be.  And if that’s the case then it most certainly should be seen as beautiful.

  • Beware: Meet Karen 10

    Beware: Meet Karen 10

    Anger, irritation, annoyance. They are such powerful feelings.  Sometimes they are justified because someone has crossed you. But sometimes they are driven not by an event but by other feelings – like embarrassment, defensiveness, stubbornness, anxiety, etc.  I have experienced all of them at one time or another.  In these cases anger is a defense. A way to avoid what the real emotion might be. But regardless of how or why it landed the one thing I have found is that it is often nearly impossible for me to let go of anger and its cronies. I know I recently wrote these words:

    “Try not to be irritable or angry and if you are don’t let it define you. It’s such a waste of time and energy”.

    And it’s true.  Despite me knowing this, I can spend far too much time being angry and irritated.  I know, with my ‘smart head’ that the right and proper thing to do is to acknowledge it and get over it.  But emotions usually don’t listen to my ‘smart head’.

    To be sure anger is sometimes swift. Flying in after a confrontation and then sweeping out after your minute is up.  But it can also build up over time and become so overwhelming that it just can’t be shaken.  These are the times when I begin to think, “Huh.  There seems to be yet another Karen rising to the surface and sitting at the table and I’m not so sure I know how to deal with this one”.  

    She is – yes, you guessed it – angry Karen.  Karen10. She is different from Karen5, the bitch, who we have discussed before.  You can read about her here:  Karen5. 

    Side note:  Don’t for a minute think that I’m talking about the now infamous “KAREN”.  God am I sick of that comparison.  Who ever thought it was Ok to label a person as a bitch on wheels with my name.  Seriously.  Every damn person I know, man or woman, child or adult, can be an intolerable, impatient demander of attention and unreasonable requests.  So enough with the KAREN label already.

    Anyway, the newest Karen at the kitchen table can’t seem to shake certain disappointments and frustrations that have been compounding over time.  And it’s making her angry.   This anger results from expectations or hopes that existed, were fueled into motion but didn’t actually land. 

    Sometimes those expectations are supported and reasonable. Sometimes unrealistic and faulty. But those things really don’t matter. The resulting disappointment and anger don’t listen to the why. They just are until they aren’t. That’s the crux of emotion. It tends not to listen to reason. It just is.

    Sitting in anger’s sidecar is irritation. I know that the irritation is twofold. It is directed at whatever fueled the anger but it is also partly irritation pointed at me. I like to believe that I am smarter than my emotions but in this case forget it. The irritation is stuck. Stuck to the anger and stuck to me. And the most crazy thing is that I KNOW when it rises. I can feel it coming and just CANNOT stop it. Again, my ‘smart head’ says: ” for God’s sake Karen LET. IT. GO. No good comes from this. No resolution. No revenge (which is patently unfair anyway). No forward movement. As much as I KNOW this is happening and I can hear the muffled words of my ‘smart head’ I just can’t stop it. WTF is that about ‘smart head’? Why are you so goddamn weak in that moment?

    And this combo is loud. So loud that is drowns everything else out. This ignites Karen3, the runner. She takes off at max speed to escape the noise and the emotion. Thinking all the while that if she runs away it will drift off and she will never have to feel or think about it again. Usually not a good idea because drifting off will always drift back in. You can’t outrun emotion – particularly anger and disappointment. They will always show back up when the circumstances reoccur – which they will. Funny thing about behavior. We tend to repeat it.

    Speaking of repeat behavior – so often I have plowed forward into things and people without really considering the consequences.  You know, the right thing would be to think first act later. Like THAT will EVER happen.

    Or maybe I actually have considered the consequences and figure: “Outcome be damned.  Let’s go and see what happens.”  And if that is the motivation then I’m OK.  Accept the consequence of your decisions and figure out what happens next.  Then do it.  Thank you ‘smart head’.

    So easy to say.  Not so easy to do. Particularly when it hasn’t turned out as you had hoped.

    And there it is. Hope. Much of this is grounded in the idea that hope certainly does spring eternal.  Hope that this time I’m right.  Or this time the choice is so obvious it has to be the right one.  Or this time things will level out because surely if I do A, B has to be the result.  How can it not?  

    But simultaneously that same hope can be deceiving, misleading and cause a life choice that might not turn out as expected.  And some of those choices are not easy to untangle.  The result is Angry Karen.  

    So, this is what I see.  Karen10 finds herself not sitting AT the kitchen table but standing ON the kitchen table.  

    She is stomping around it and demanding that all of the others help her.  She points fingers at each one, except maybe Karen1, the little one.  After all none of this is HER fault. But the others? They are targets. I can hear Karen10 right now between stomps.  “We are all in this together so which one of you bitches is going to fix this shit this time.”  I also see all of them either watching her with amusement, rolling their eyes or trying to push her off the table. Anyone who knows me knows that eye rolling is one of my super powers so I’m pretty good at that one. All of the Karens have that special treat to serve anyone watching.

    Karen10 is a tough one to beat. She is stubborn and defensive. And she is bitter. That’s a good word but I’ll come back to that one another time.

    And how about forgiveness? Forgiveness of others and of myself. This is not easy for Karen10. Or any Karen for that matter. There are many times when the idea of forgiveness escapes me. Again, another emotion that is slippery and hard to grasp.

    As I write this I think about what I am angry about right now. What disappointment or trouble occurred that kicked Karen10 into gear. And I see that my anger is connected to this – I have a breaking point. Maybe we all do. Some limit to how much disappointment, loss, fear, whatever – I can take. The real issue is what happens when that point is reached. Running is a temporary option so that one is off the table. Sorry Karen3.

    It is hard and so frustrating to figure out how to move beyond the anger and where to go from there. I think because all of the options involve risk. Risk of ending up right back where you started. Risk of more unwanted emotion. Risk of loss. Risk of turning the absolute wrong way and then feeling regret. Risk of listening to the wrong person. Risk of doing nothing and just staying angry and disappointed – which as we know is a waste of energy and valuable time.

    Ah yes, the all consuming notion of time. How fast it goes and how much is left. The temptation to act fast before it’s too late, one way or the other, can be strong. But I do know that fast action is probably not going to end well. Best to sit with situation or temptation for at least a while.

    And then there is bitterness. Bitterness because I should have known better. Others involved should have known better. This is such an ugly, acidic emotion. I think it can literally change how you look. Hard, frozen, mean, unavailable. You know, kind of like the resting bitch face but worse. I think bitterness seeps out through your pours and creates a cement mask. It is UGLY. And it is tough to crack.

    So there you have it. Karen10. Angry, sad, disappointed, stubborn, unforgiving, irritated, bitter. All ugly. All tough to release.

    And all of this to say that I am reluctantly welcoming a new Karen to the table. I kind of like – maybe even love – all of the Karens. After all they are all part of me and have led me to here and now, which is not such a bad place to be. But this one? This one is different. She is one that I want to tame. Not push down and ignore but somehow mellow out. For the first time I am pondering the idea that maybe all of the Karens together might somehow be able to get her off the table and take a seat. I don’t mean change her – that’s impossible. She is definitely here to stay. But maybe it’s a matter of another Karen stepping in front of her. Sounding the alarm to say that her time is up for this one. That a different Karen, or maybe more than one, is going to take over from here.

    I guess we’ll see.