This is happy….

Our neighborhood is one of the favored locations to watch fireworks. So when we started walking 15 minutes before the fireworks were scheduled to begin, I wasn’t convinced we would find a decent viewing spot.

We reached the main drag and joined hundreds of others looking for the perfect overlook. The street looked like something from one of the many zombie movies popular today, only this group wasn’t the undead, they were very much alive, excited for the upcoming show and inebriated from an afternoon of celebrating Independence Day, weaving their way with their red solo cups, stopping to take group pictures, arms thrown around each-others necks, screaming endearments to one another.

I began to hunt for a break along the fence.

There is was. A spot. It was huge compared to the numbers deep on each side of it. I wondered if it was reserved, or forbidden, or the large leafy vegetation that bordered it was poison sumac. Regardless, my little entourage planted our flag.

As we stood, patiently waiting for the pyrotechnics to begin, I began to worry that everyone knew something we didn’t know — that this vantage point sucked. Not being Pittsburgh natives and not making the yearly patriotic trek to see the fireworks, I assumed we were missing something. I asked my compatriots, “Do you think we will be able to see them from here?”

They didn’t know either. But my question now lived in their minds too. Doubt, like fear, is often contagious.

Tom and Greg decided they would do some recognizance work and check out the bar-with-a-view just up the street. Several minutes later they returned. No luck. The bar was closed to a private party.

So this was it. We could leave and keep looking, but we may lose this spot. I have a rule in the grocery store check-out line or in the bank drive thru…never leave your line. Experience has proven that when I change lines/lanes, the original choice always moves faster.

Let it go Patricia,” I said to myself, “if you can’t see you can’t see. It’s not that bad.” I called on my spiritual training to let be was is.

And now, as if we were early pioneers, others had taken up camp with us. We were surrounded. This once empty stretch was currently 3 people deep.

The first flare went up. The crowd went silent.

It exploded.

RIGHT. SMACK. DAB. IN FRONT OF US! BOaiu1SCAAA3p-9.jpg-medium

It was like a private show. Just for us. I smiled to myself, “Will I ever learn?” All my worry and distrust for naught. We had the best view on the street. I relaxed and allowed myself to be enchanted by color, the drama, and the force of these rockets exploding before me.

As the finale crescendoed with thundering bursts of white cascades, I felt a childlike awe…like I was seeing something for the first time. My opened mouth smile was full bodied. Every cell was alive and captivated. I was enthralled. Totally.

Fireworks are a generous gift. A free treat. I don’t know how much they cost to display but I assume they are not cheap. I so appreciate the lavish offering that is still able to transfix me.

I loved feeling that happy.

I want to allow myself to be taken by the view more often.
waxseal2

 

 

 

Bubble Poppers

I met a woman at a party last night. We were introduced because we were both therapists. Well, actually, she is a clinical psychologist. A differentiation that seemed quite important to her as she corrected several people that lumped up together as therapists. We all stood corrected.

We were also introduced because we both have entrepreneurial minds that invent interesting projects and business’s.

So I told her about my blog. I confided my hope to be named one of the top 100 women bloggers. I divulged my book ideas. She listened with seeming interest. She is, after all, a therap….psychologist.

When I was finished spilling my guts she began to point out how ridiculous my ideas were. She did, she really did! I was expecting…sounds like you have really big plans. How does that make you feel? I’m curious about…You know, the useful things therapists say. Instead, in her best patronizing voice she asked if I knew how many bloggers there are in the world trying to do the same thing? How the chances of my making any money through my writing was absurd.

If they hadn’t run out of beer I would excused myself to get a bottle.

My spiritual teacher, Christine Page, talks about Bubble Poppers. People that deflate the dreams of another. There are many explanations of why someone does this.

*A motherly attempt to keep someone safe from a harm they may not foresee-I confess I am guilty of this with my kids.

*A perceived threat to the bubble poppers ego-ugh, I have done this too.

*Meanness-I hope I haven’t done this.

*A belief they (the bubble popper) know what is RIGHT and TRUE. I think my psychologist not-friend falls into this category.

As we left the party I told Tom what had been said. He offered go beat her up.

Instead I said something that surprised me. Has this ever happen to you? You hear yourself say something so profound that you wonder where or who it came from. I said to Tom with a certainty I didn’t feel moments earlier, “I think the universe is testing me. It/She is trying to see how committed I am to my dreams. I have to know if I can hold my self in the face of a wind storm(bag)?”

Who said that?