Press Here: See Red Buttons Glow !

A friend and I were talking about a couple we both know who were having a difficult time in their marriage. "She sure knows how to press his buttons," said my friend.
I was surprised at his comment. "You think she does it on purpose?" I asked. "Of course," he said. "Why in the world would she want to do that?" I countered, "What woman wants an angry husband?" My friend, a life-long single man, changed the subject. But two things stayed with me, One, that my friend's take on relationships is different from mine; and, Two, I wanted to reflect on what he said about people in close relationships pushing each others' bottons on purpose. That sounds crazy.

From my friend's viewpoint and what I know of his background, it doesn't seem crazy to him. It's how he perceives conflict in his family, one person goading another to anger. He himself is extraordinarily friendly and charismatic, but also extraordinarily aloof and problematic in one-on-one relationships. Well-defended, you might say. Looking up and down his family tree and immediate family, there is addiction of every sort and the enabling that's necessary to it. My friends, I am not moralizing or being the judge, these are observations to understand why my friend's perspective on buttons and relationships differs from mine.

Although I, too, come from similar roots of family misery, one of the first requirements for healing was to remove myself from "the scene of the crime,"so to speak. In other words, it was super important that I start to hang out with people who were not alcoholics or substance-users, including cigarettes. Rampant co-dependency was the most difficult environment to let go of, as co-dependents are not a thing, they are people. With many years of healing, I am the grateful and lucky friend of sober, productive and life-loving friends, including several couples in thriving, long-lasting marriages.

The idea that any of them would purposely push the buttons of their partner is unthinkable. Yes, of course, buttons get pushed, but to do it deliberately requires a kind of contempt, of wishing harm to the most important person in your life. I'm not privy to the intimacy of these couples, but we've spent lots and lots of time together, and it's evident that mutual friendship and respect is the norm. It would have to be, otherwise how could they stay together, happily, for so long? Good couples, by the way, are the best people to be around. Their affection for me, a single woman, is direct, clean, and safe because of their individual integrity and the strong bonds between them. Among them, I can come out of my shell and have fun.

Looks like my vitiligo is a good metaphor for my personality -- ultra-sensitive, splotchy-moody, going from dark to light and back again.  I am "thin-skinned" in the flesh, and to the environment, especially human. As an artist, it's nice to be sensitive; as a human being, being thin-skinned has meant that I've taken things seriously that were not meant to be taken seriously. I have suffered HUGELY from this character flaw (notice the past tense). With education and effort, I have un-trained myself pretty well from taking things personally like I used to. A work in progress.

I wonder if being thin-skinned -- or button-covered --  is a common characteristic for people with vitiligo. That we can be ultra-sensitive, this I know. Is it mostly about our skin? or it is across the board? Whatever the case, de-sensitizing my buttons is one of the most vital skills I can learn. Over-sensitivity made me arrogant and a victim of my own reactions. I gave my power away right, left and center. I was more in love with being right than being happy. What was really going on was I hid my deep insecurities and fears by taking offense.  Now I use my pretty buttons to keep mycoat nice and snug around me, more self-contained, not giving my power away to people who don't want it anyway. I look forward to a time when neither coat nor buttons will be necessary.

Thank you for being with me on this amazing Journey.





 

Regarding Your Comments

                            

Dear, wonderful, brave and cherished readers. During these last few years of attending to this blog so sporadically, yet with loving interest each time I do, I check and re-check the settings so that I may hear your voices, too. All to no avail; the comments still remain invisible on the blog.

A couple of days ago a friend more computer savvy than me made the attempt. It seemed to work. We posted a comment -- or we thought we did. It still hasn't shown up, vanished into cyberspace.
You probably think I'm a complete moron, or that I live out way out in the uninhabited desert somewhere. You'd be right on with the desert part, and as for the first, well no, I am not a moron, at least not a complete moron, just a bit unorganized and distracted. When friends do come visit, we're too busy drinking, eating and talking like mad to remember to try and fix, again, my comment-less blog.

All is not lost. I actually got a notice for a comment in my email today !!! YAY!!! Thank you, Anonymous, for your positive words. But do you think I am able to "publish" it on the blog? I pushed all the right buttons, didn't I? But now I'm more motivated than ever. Hang in there, Vitgiligans.

Speaking of buttons ...

 

Not Giving a Shit

The sun shines brighter, longer as of now. For sure here in the desert, but in most other places too, and we know what that means! After a few months of near-invisible vitiligo for us whiter skinned ones, of relaxing in our own skins, literally, it's time to get out the sun screen, time for sun avoidance, and the increased self-consciousness that visits many during the spring and summer months. Perhaps our tawnier-skinned sisters and brothers don't have the luxury of detente during winter... or maybe they don't give a dang one way or another. "Not giving a shit is the secret to happiness," quipped a woman friend at work today. She is one of the most radiant persons I know.

The fine art of not giving a shit what others think -- ah! is there a school for this? Well, there's the University of Life, where self-appointed PhDs are well-earned; the School of Hard Knocks has some stellar graduates in DGAS; and Love School metes out doctorates in small but impressive numbers, as it's the ultimate classroom for discernment between the shit that poisons and the fertile droppings that nourish the garden of love and life. 

My computer is conking out so I'll close this day of resurrection with a prayer that we give a shit about ourselves big time and show it. 

love love love

"How we do anything is how we do everything"

This truism was a scary thought at first. My ways of doing are nothing to write home about, it seemed. They are HUGELY inconsistent and I had a feeling this was not a good thing. For comfort, I would recall the words of the spiritual revolutionary Mohandas Ghandi, "I am not committed to consistency but to truth." We're on the same page, Brother!

Being inconsistent as a way of life is neither better nor worse than any other. In service to truth, which is unity, which is love, I reflect on the positives of doing things in clusters, like clusters of sweet ripe grapes.  There are sometimes long ropes of strong but bare, life-carrying vine between clusters of fruit. There are periods of drought when the vine will not produce fruit yet continue to live, waiting. There are seasonal cycles of bare twining vine, rough, brown and bare of leaf, seemingly dead. There is the cycle of leaf-buds, of grape-buds no bigger than grains of sand. There is growth, and harvest.

It's been a long dry spell for this blog...  is it time for a cluster of posts? do I want to revive my interest and purpose for having created it ? Who does it serve? These and other questions I will reflect on in the
days to come.

The other 'c' word in the wise man's quote is commitment. Lately, this has become more than a word in my long life of lessons in joy and sorrow; it is a reality. What was I so afraid of ? What did I not understand about commitment ?

What does any of this have to do with vitiligo? Everything.

A return to posting on this blog, if this is what I decide, will be different from before. I will learn how to make the setting for comments so that I can hear what you think, feel and say. I apologize for not having done this sooner.

All is well, love yourself no matter what.

Happy New Year 2011, Everybody! Happy New Year, Me! Who said that how we spend the first day of the year will determine how the rest of it will go? I like it. I like this thought. It is a good thought to keep, because on the first day of the new calendar year, I co-created much freedom, peace and happiness for my life, and consequently for those friends who happened by on that sunny day. (The "co" of creation --as nothing is ever done alone -- includes everything and anything, from the air that breathes me, to Shari with whom I shared food, to Great Mystery of Love.)

It's been a while, yes.
How are you?
Better? not better? waxing and waning with the Moons?
Accepting more? or less?

I am well today, thank you for asking.
Better than last year, and the year before. Not that I remember any of it, but I'm very
sure life gets more lived every year, even when it doesn't look like it.

Here is some news on my vitiligo journey: two summers ago, I spent enormous amounts
of time out in the desert sun, as always. Got the most extreme contrasts ever, and that
little black dot on my nose made me reconsider a couple of things.

Well, one thing: I decided to spare my face the strong rays of direct sunlight, and wear
a hat. And just be generally more aware when the sun tended to strike my face,
directly or via a strong reflector such as white or metallic surfaces. The result was that
my skin remained paler, but very smooth in color all spring, summer and fall.

"Duh!" you might say with chiding affection, but the fact is that before black-dot, I didn't care how my facial skin looked. Now I care, because it is the Messenger ! Extreme contrast on my face lets me know I'm getting too much direct sun on it, and to cool it. Thank you, Vitiligo.

I now have high-speed internet and will be able to bring new life to this blog, pictures, even!.

Smiles and hugs to all you beautiful Ones and that is all of you.

Sun Spots

Kindling

The Sun is like a partner, feeding energy to the body swaying back and forth with the thrust of the branch saw. Pruned branches are cut manually with a branch saw, one of the most ingenious tools ever devised, the most simple, the most appreciated. The branch saw is small, from six to twelve inches long plus the handle, and curved, so that with every thrust you are cutting much more branch than with a straight saw. I try to cut through without stopping, even as my arms are aching and my lungs say "Stop!!" Sometimes I "win" and make it until the heavy limb sinks with a sigh to the ground. Sometimes I am not so macho and collect twigs in between bouts of muscle-building sawing.

Last May, as the joy of spring brought me outdoors for other kinds of tasks, some dark spots on my nose turned darker, almost black. Oh No, I thought, scrutinizing them in the 10X mirror I use for checking out wild hairs, No no no! But just in case, I decided to visit Helena, a para-medical dermatologist who knows more about the skin than her boss, as far as I and many of her many friends are concerned. I had only once seen a melanoma spot, and it was way blacker than mine. But maybe it started like mine, a very dark brown.

Helena could take me either in three weeks, or in exactly seven minutes. I flew down the hill and in no time my dear friend was peering at my nose with a big lens and saying, "Constance, I don't see anything to worry about. Just be sensible, and keep an eye on it." Being sensible to us means wearing light clothing in the brightest part of the day, saving outdoor work for early or late, and wearing a broad-brim hat. Neither Helena, who is a flaming red-head with translucent, super-sensitive skin, nor I ever wear sun screen. This especially gratified me, as I was prepared for the usual sun-screen speech. Our research turns up the same information: that sun screen usage and the increase of melanoma (skin cancer) are exactly proportional. This is not to say that sun screen causes the disease, but perhaps people are more brazen with the sun, considering themselves immune from its power thanks to the protection of chemicals. Chemicals do not protect us from stupidity or the power of the sun. Besides, both my dermatologist and I enjoy the natural living so prevalent here in our high desert. Many of us, especially single women, live in simple cabins and live "green" way before the term was invented. We live like queens, with the luxury of freedom royalty never had. We live in and love in the sun.

Staying out of the full sun in daytime June through August is a no-brainer, so I lose some spring tan. Toward the middle of August I remembered to check the spots on my nose and ... where are they? They were gone! I'd completely forgotten about it. I said a prayer of thanks. Even though the vitiligo spots on my face are a map all over the map this year, I am so grateful it is only vitiligo. They are also in new areas of my body --on my shins, more spread out on my hands and arms, and some random spots on my back.

I live in California because of the sun. Although it triggers this "auto-immune" condition called vitiligo, it is the deep Healer of my days and of my soul. It is the giver of life to my awakenings, my moods that tend to depression when I allow myself to get out of balance. A book I discovered on healing with light* makes total sense to me. It brought an exquisite awareness of all the ways my being can savor the Sun, drink it in with my cells and my consciousness, letting its supreme love fill my heart with warmth and connection with the peaceful earth where I live.

*Light: Medicine of the Future, by Jacob Liberman, O.D., Ph.d.

Return to Center

Surprised and Happy to Find Me Here



Hello, dear friends. Today is the sixth of March, 2009; my last post was March 5, 2008.

I love synchronicity, and cycles. As I am one year older, and so are you, we love more and better. Our faith is stronger and more consistent. We do not need hope, as we have Knowing.

"My serenity is in direct proportion to my level of acceptance." The more I accept things and people as they are -- and especially myself! -- the more centered, calm and empowered I am to act. Power is the ability to act.

I have re-joined my sisters and brothers who are standing up and speaking for the Earth, in particular the desert where I live in southern California. During my spiritual journey I withdrew from all but the most basic social contacts. Now I'm back -- with discernment, however, as radical self-care is primary. In order to stand up and speak, especially in front of dissenting forces, peacefully and with humor, it is crucial to be well fed, rested, exercised, befriended and supported by the positive from every source.



The world is smaller and more unified by the day, and disintegrating by the hour. "You get what you focus on," so I choose health, light, and love to focus on. When I fall on my arse, I get up after a good cry or rant to my trusted closest friend who understands I don't really mean it. I am committed to meeting my shadow head-on when it raises its head of pain and illusion.



A couple of months ago I came across an article in a tiny desert-town (Quartzite, Az) newspaper, written under the heading "Thoughtbuster." This is exactly what I need, I thought to myself, someone to help me bust my negative thoughts. They are at the root of anything that's not quite right in my life." Its author, Coach Louise, offered a free first session of life coaching, and I took it. "You're hired," I said to Coach Louise when our time was up. The weekly hour on the phone with Louise is pure gold. Best thing I ever did for myself during this cycle of deep change.



I'm so happy you're still here! Thank you for your patience ...