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  • Redeemed

    “Non, Soeur! Soeur, Non! Non! Non! Non!! That’s what Steve, my classmate was spewing at our Senior French IV teacher, Soeur Simonne, aka “Sister Simonne.”

    Every year, Sister Simonne taught a French IV class at St. Francis High School. It was for an elite group of students who could speak, read and write French fluently. Most of us in the class grew up in homes where Canadian French was our first language, while Parisian French was what was taught in school. The differences, though at times significant, were not really that difficult to master for those of us with a French Canadian background. Every year this elite group of French IV students, put on a French play that was well attended in our Franco-American mill town. It was subsidized by the local Franco-American Group whose members were interested in keeping our heritage alive. It was well known that Sr. Simonne’s play was always a top-notch performance. As her students, we worked on it all semester, learning lines, working on delivery, backdrops, sets, positioning, everything that goes into play production.

    Sister decided I would be the female lead role and Steve would be the lead male role. There were only ten of us in all so some students played multiple smaller roles. We had a lot of fun together and everything was going along fine.

    While I was well liked and got along with everyone, it was pretty clear that I was more the girl-next-door type and not a “party” girl or a flirt.  Steve, on the other hand, was a star hockey-player, a jock that most girls would have loved to go out with. He enjoyed partying on weekends and he could be, and was, most often in the company of cheer-leaders, and pretty girls. With a devil-may-care attitude and a gleam in his eyes, he really was a lot of fun to be around.

    That day, though, when Sister Simonne said she thought our onstage relationship of boyfriend/girlfriend should be cemented w/ a kiss at the end of the performance, I was astonished at the string of “No’s” that tumbled out of Steve’s mouth. He left no doubt in anyone’s mind how he felt about kissing me. I was mortified! Why was he so opposed to kissing me? Why? I asked myself; it’s not like it would mean anything. He certainly loved to flirt and seemed quite willing to kiss most girls if he could get away with it. Was I that repulsive that he couldn’t bring himself to give me a quick little kiss? I was trying so hard not to take it personally, not to cave in. One of his best friends, Adam, was sitting right next to me. He happened to glance over at me. He quickly and correctly assessed the situation as he saw me trying to keep my face from crumpling, struggling to pull myself together.

    He turned in his chair, looked at Steve and commanded; “Steve! Steve! Stop it! But Steve was oblivious and he kept up his resistance to the idea of having to kiss me.

    Finally, I could contain myself no longer. I burst into tears and ran out of the classroom to find a solitary place to pull myself together.

    The interesting thing is that I don’t even remember what happened after that. All I know is that there was a compromise where we hugged instead of kissed and the play was a huge success.

    Steve now lives in Chicago, where he is a hockey coach and scout for a University out there. Over the years, we’ve exchanged pleasantries at class reunions and we certainly have moved beyond that high school incident. A few years ago, I went to another of my class reunions. I think every woman alive tries to look her best at her high school reunion and I am no different. I had a new little dress that was flattering and I felt really good. I arrived a little ahead of my husband as he was working late and was to meet me there afterwards. Steve had come alone this time, and I’m guessing he thought I had too because he came right up to me, gave me a hug and said, “Every time I see you, you make me regret that I didn’t kiss you all those years ago when I had the opportunity to.” We laughed and talked a bit more. As I turned and walked away, I chuckled to myself, “It may have taken 35 years but, oh yes! Steve has redeemed himself!”

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

     

  • Hurricane – Metaphor for Life

    Being consumed by all the coverage of hurricane Irma last weekend got me to thinking about life in general. Often, I go about my life from one day to the next, only vaguely aware that anything is changing. The days seem to resemble each other. I am so absorbed in other aspects of my life that it takes something akin to a metaphorical strong wind to get me to sit up and take notice. Like getting sidelined due to a torn something-or-other, or getting the results of a medical test requiring further investigation, or just generally being unhappy in spirit… It’s called life.

    Like the hurricane, I do get some notice that something is coming. At first it’s just something to be aware of… Then it’s something to be watched closely, even prepare for… Ultimately, it gets to where it demands to be dealt with, one way or another.

    These serve as my wake-up calls of sorts. They remind me that life is short, filled with the unexpected and that I must make the most of every day if I don’t want to have any regrets.

    What do I want the rest of my life to be about? Am I just marking time? Or am I moving toward something of value? Sometimes I literally feel like I’m being tossed around in the wind, like the scenes of the hurricane I witnessed on TV. Some gusts are little nudges while others can literally knock me off my feet and roll me around in the mud. How long I stay there or if and when I get back up, brush myself off and move on is up to me.

    This is usually when I reevaluate and realize I need to stay grounded in who I am and why I am here in this world. What is the gift I am here to bring? I believe we are all here to make our contribution, tiny or huge, in making this world a better place. I best be about discovering what that is, if I don’t already know, and set about doing it to the best of my ability, because Life IS marching on and it can all be swept away in an instant…

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • My Angel

    I had somehow gotten to the age of 22 without making enemies. I was the wholesome, fun, pleasant, never critical, girl-next-door type. In fact, I worked hard at being agreeable, and was under the illusion that everyone liked me. That was extremely important to me. I had grown up absorbing the message that what others thought of me was of utmost importance. The phrase, “Your reputation takes a lifetime to build, but only a moment to destroy,” added more weight to the task of being a consummate people-pleaser.

    Then I met him! He seemed to like me at first, but as I spent more time around him, his curt remarks and scowls led me to believe I was not one of his favorite people and, in fact, he didn’t like me much at all! He eventually became a significant person in my circle of influence, and whenever I was around him, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. Try as I might, I was never able to decipher exactly what it was about me he didn’t like, but it made me feel like a failure. Being a conflict-avoider, I always put on a happy face even though, inside, I was dying of misery. My self-image was so totally dependent on what other people thought of me that I was crumbling from the inside out. After years of trying, I was still confused as to how I could get him to like me.

    I’m not sure if it was an evolutionary process or if it happened all of a sudden, but one day I realized that who I was did not depend on what he thought of me; that if he didn’t like me, that wasn’t my concern. A sense of wellbeing flowed through me. No longer at the mercy of his opinion, good or bad, I could be, unapologetically, me. I had broken through my imaginary prison and I was free! Almost as if he could sense my transformation, he started to treat me with more tolerance and respect.

    The significance of this breakthrough was that I found acceptance within myself and no longer looked for it from others. I discovered that, as long as I am true to myself, I need not depend on the good opinion of others for acceptance. Thus, another piece of my authenticity puzzle snapped into place.

    It’s interesting that when I used to hear of Angels, I often had more ethereal visions of what they actually would be. What I’ve come to realize is that they show up in all shapes, sizes and situations. Most often, they are unexpected and even unwelcomed but, always, they leave you in a better state than they found you, if you are open to learning from them. As unpleasant an experience as it was at the time, I have to wonder if I would still be in my self-made, people-pleasing prison, locked away from my authentic self, had I not had to emotionally wrestle with this man whom I now call my Angel.

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • An Expanded Understanding of FAMILY

    I recently attended my niece’s wedding in France. What a beautiful gift I brought home with me. Since flying on an economy-flight only allowed for a personal bag that fit in the compartment under the seat, it was a very good thing that the gift I brought home was neatly tucked inside my heart.

    How many times over the years have I welcomed family for a week-long visit with a burdened heart, a sense of blessing mixed with dread?! Don’t get me wrong. I love having family come. Being overly accommodating, though, has too often tipped the scales to the side of “burden” rather than “blessing.”

    The internal struggle has long troubled my spirit. I want to be carefree and enjoy their visits, but I am constantly on-the-go, cleaning, planning, (trust me when I tell you that is not one of my gifts) grocery-shopping, preparing and cooking food, (a necessity but definitely not a favorite pastime of mine) trying my darndest to make my guests’ experience a good one. More often than not, this has left me physically exhausted, spiritually depleted and left to reassemble the pieces of myself after everyone has gone. Is it any wonder that upcoming visits are internalized with a healthy dose of stress?!

    By comparison, while in conversation with the groom’s father, he described the beauty of Reunion Island (off the coast of Madagascar) where they live. I commented on what fun it would be for all three siblings and spouses to go see it together. In broken English, he said, “Yes! You come visit and no ‘otels.” I suspected he was inviting us to stay with them and I answered, “Oh my goodness, no, there would be six of us!” He looked me in the eyes, communicating soul to soul, and in a calm voice, said to me, “NO ‘otels! You family now, you stay wit US!” There is no doubt in my mind that he meant it. I sensed that it would not be a burden for him at all but that he saw it as a privilege to welcome us into his home.

    Wow! Have I been missing the boat! How differently would I feel if I welcomed company as a privilege rather than a stressful experience? Maybe it’s my struggle with organization, my distaste for spending so much time preparing food, juggling schedules or the suspension of my self-care rituals, that are the cause of my perception of company being a burden. I suspect it’s probably all of the above. This perception of mine is currently under scrutiny so I can alter it to be a more pleasant experience.

    After my talk with the groom’s father, and observing the bride’s mother, my sister-in-law, I realized that hosting doesn’t have to be so stressful. She made soups, desserts and various foods ahead of time and froze them. Come lunch/dinner time, she defrosted a ratatouille and ladled it over freshly made rice. Quick and easy! Being French, of course every meal is followed by freshly  baked (from the bakery) bread and cheese. This eliminates the worry of not having enough of the main course and the possibility of guests leaving the table still hungry. Finish with seasonal fresh fruit and you have a winning meal!

    I usually feel like clean up is mine to spearhead. My sister-in-law was either unaware of or willing to allow people in her kitchen to help with clean up while she socialized with guests. Kitchen duty was not organized and was never done by the same people, but everything was laid back and ran smoothly. People were just grateful for the opportunity to be spending time together on such a joyous occasion.

    When I compare how I have felt when I’ve received guests to my perception of my sister-in-law’s experience, I don’t get the impression our being there was an excessive burden on her. Rather, I felt encircled by the joy she radiated from all of us being there under her roof. Furthermore, her extended family from all over Europe as well as California, welcomed us with open arms, like we were best of friends. I sensed genuine warmth that shot straight to my heart and remained firmly lodged there not only for the duration of the week we spent in France, but I carry it with me still. Like a rubber band that has been expanded beyond its original shape, the space in my heart reserved for “family” has been expanded and enhanced in an immeasurable way. This is the gift I carried back with me all the way from France.

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • My Oasis

    There’s a cozy corner in my room that is all mine.  This is where restoration takes place. The back of my glider is kitty corner to two walls and just close enough to the bed for me to use it’s corner as my ottoman. A floor lamp to my right, a little table with a glowing candle to my left, and the flow of soft music, completes my sanctuary of solitude.

    It is here that I read, meditate, pray, think, write, and sort things out. Ordering my private world allows me to work toward being “in this world but not of it.” Unless I am solidly grounded in my soul, I am often like a kite in the wind, going this way and that, with no clear intention and in no particular direction.

    I need the sense of rhythm in my life that daily solitude provides me. Without it I can feel quite frantic and frazzled. It’s so easy to overcommit, letting my mouth overburden my shoulders. But by checking in with my heart to see if it’s a “yes” or a “no;” by widening that gap between stimulus and response, I can restore a sense of well-being that nurtures and sustains me.

    This whole process begins in my corner, my oasis. Here, time stands still and allows me to examine events, conversations, joyous moments as well as conflicts and wounds. I believe there is a precious essence that can be discovered in everything, if I only pause long enough to let it find me. Detecting the nugget of wisdom in everyday events requires me to be still, often enough to let it settle on me, almost like a butterfly that circles and flutters before so delicately landing on a petal.

    I emerge from my oasis a more centered, kinder, more patient, hopefully wiser, but definitely more intentional disciple of Love.

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • No “Do-Over” …

    “It’s terrible. I can’t even remember my own grandchildren’s names,” my father lamented to me. It was only a few months after he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s that I sat with him after Thanksgiving dinner. With shoulders hunched forward and tears glistening, he looked on from the dining table as his six rambunctious grandchildren horsed around in the living room. I watched him as he searched his own memory for names he couldn’t quite come up with. My heart broke. It was a sadness I couldn’t bear. In an effort to lighten the mood, I joked about how that happened to me all the time; mixing up my own children’s names, let alone those of their cousins.

    At other times, Dad would worry aloud that he never wanted to be a burden to anyone in this way. I would reassure him that he could never be a burden to us but that he was merely providing us with an opportunity to show our love for him.

    When someone is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia, I imagine it must be personally devastating… a fearful and lonesome journey…

    Why do I have to imagine this even though my own father went through it? Shouldn’t I know first-hand what his experience was like? You would think so, but then I would have to have been “present” enough throughout the experience. Sure I was there physically, but emotionally I was hiding. Not that I was aware of it at the time, but looking back, I am tormented by the fact that I wasn’t really “there” for him in the way he would have needed me to be.

    He presented me with several opportunities to meet him in the tunnel that was closing in around him. My intense fear of being engulfed with sadness, being caught in a conversation I didn’t know how to handle or wasn’t prepared to have, propelled me in the opposite direction… to safer, higher ground. I chuckled away those opportunities, holding my breath, hoping he would follow me away from the edge of the precipice. Fortunately, or so I thought at the time, he did yield, probably sensing that I was unwilling to leave familiar, solid ground.

    More than ten years later, after much introspection, I’m left wondering how I could have been so blind. My father was lonely and scared on this unfamiliar leg of his journey. He may not even have realized it himself, but I believe he was asking me to accompany him in facing his fear of the unknown… to help him carry his burden. In the midst of confusion, he just wanted reassurance that someone understood him, validated his feelings, and could be there, heart and soul, when he most needed it.

    As a rule, I make an effort not to wallow in regret. I prefer to learn the lesson and move on. This one, though… this one is tough because I don’t get a “do-over.”

    Reflecting on this experience has taught me to question and ask myself: Do I value safety and comfort more than accompanying a loved one down a foreign path… a path that will, with certainty, present multiple unknown demons? Do I have enough faith in my authentic self to know that if I stay grounded in my heart, the skills I’ll need, will appear, as I need them? Furthermore, am I okay with just muddling through from time to time and possibly even blowing it? Can I be by their side in silence, as deafening and awkward as it may feel, without needing to mentally scramble to fill the void?

    Ultimately, do I have the courage to be vulnerable enough to go down that road, offering my naked, loving presence and nothing else??

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • Don’t Believe Everything You Think

    When I was young, I was deathly afraid of using the phone. I found all kinds of creative ways to avoid using it. In my high school years, I would even ask my mother to make an appointment with the dentist for me. Of course, for this to be effective, I would make the request over my shoulder as I was rushing out the door, giving the impression that I didn’t have the time to do it myself. It worked! Later on, if I wanted to follow up on a job interview, I wouldn’t call but rather I’d go in person. I knew I made a much better impression in person than on the phone, where I stuttered and flailed in thought and word. I didn’t know why I had this phone-phobia, but I was somewhat aware that I had one. Knowing something and having the desire to work on it, though, are two very different things.

    Finally, as an adult, I contemplated taking on a sales position. I knew that meant using that dastardly contraption. Ugh! Not without trepidation, I decided, that if other people could do this, I could learn. It was torturous in the beginning. I walked around that phone, eyeing it with suspicion, making all kinds of excuses why it wasn’t the ‘right time’ to be phoning. Ultimately, if I wanted to be successful not only in this career, but in life, I knew I had to face my fear. I worked at it and started to crack it open by asking myself, “What is it that makes my heartbeat race and my palms sweat when I even think of picking up the phone?”

    What I discovered was my erroneous belief that the person on the other end, regardless of who it might be, was more important and smarter than I was. Feeling inferior put me at a huge disadvantage even before I heard a ‘hello!’ When I was able to redefine, in my psyche, the person on the other end as a friend rather than a formidable foe, I was able to move forward. I was not an overnight success, but like anything else that is practiced and perfected, I made slow and steady progress.

    Now, no matter whom I am calling, I assume the person will be warm and friendly and will want to help me. That isn’t always the case, but because I’ve had so much practice and can express myself clearly, I no longer fear getting a negative response. I am confident that I can work my way through any situation in which I find myself.

    It continues to amaze me how much our individual lives are defined by what is going on in our minds. It doesn’t even matter whether it is real, true or imagined! The power our thoughts hold over us makes me realize how vigilant I must be in questioning myself with regularity. We’ve all heard “Don’t believe everything you hear,” and “Don’t believe everything you read.” To that I add, “Don’t believe everything you think.”

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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  • Bloom Where You Are Planted

    Several months back, while on my morning walk, I discovered a small green shoot right in the center of the newly paved, crevice-free walkway. With three feet of tar on either side, it definitely stood out. Against all odds, this stubborn blade of grass forced its way through the tough surface in its triumphant search to reach the light of day. Immediately, I felt an affinity for this lonely little shoot that had struggled so. To me, it displayed, with splendor, a metaphor for life. “Keep trying!” it said, “Don’t give up!” “Even if you have to go it alone in uncharted territory, keep pushing through!”

    I reached for my phone to capture an image of such inspiration. Of course, this was the day that I had walked out sans phone. Ugh! I knew the chances of it still being there the following morning were slim. It was so out of place that someone was bound to feel a need to pluck it. I was right. Returning later that day, my little shoot was nowhere to be found, its moment in the sun vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

    Though it is gone, its image still remains imbedded in my mind’s eye. Its message reminds me to stay the course even when I might otherwise feel discouraged and keeps me company when I feel like I’m forging a singular path. It whispers directly to my soul, “Get up and try again! …You’re almost there!”

    This little blade of grass brought to mind the importance of giving my all in whatever situation I find myself…in other words, to bloom where I am planted.

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

  • “Cheer Up!”

    After a four-day visit with our grandchildren, my husband and I were saying our goodbyes as our son-in-law dropped us off at the airport. Our five-year-old granddaughter, who had been animated just a few minutes earlier, was quiet. I could tell the moment the realization hit her that it would be another three and a half months before we’d see each other again. Her blue eyes downcast and her little lips in a pout showed me how she was feeling. My heart melted and my first instinct to lift her spirits was well intentioned as I said to her, “Well, at least we got to play ‘Go-Fish’ all the way to the airport, that’s something to smile about!”

    Watching them drive away, I pondered the fact that she might have felt more validated if I had said to her, “You look like you’re feeling sad right now…” which would have given her the opportunity to express her unhappiness rather than suppress it. Perhaps she would have felt more understood. Acknowledging the feeling and bringing it out into the open probably would have been a more constructive way to handle it, helping her deal with her feelings of loss and disappointment.

    This little incident prompted me to wonder: When I try to ‘cheer’ someone, am I doing it for them or for myself?

    Asking myself this question, I answer an unequivocal, “Of course I’m doing it for them!” Upon closer inspection, however, I realize that I may be doing the ‘cheering-up’ because it’s easier and more pleasant to be with a happy person than an unhappy one. I wonder if it’s because dealing with happy people doesn’t require the complex skill set that dealing with unhappy people sometimes does. Unhappiness can be messy and unpredictable. There’s the ever-present question, “Will I know what to say or do?” And because I don’t like feeling inept, I would rather not tread upon uncertain soil. In the end, I’ve come to the conclusion that while I want to help someone one feel better, I do so, trying to alleviate any burden of discomfort from myself as well.

    Might a better alternative be for me to show up with a loving heart and meet people where they are regardless of the discomfort it causes me? To be with them in their sadness, allowing them the sacred space to feel their feelings and express them if they so desire…letting them do what they do best…know themselves and what they need in that moment…

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

     

     

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  • Ready! or Not??

    Only in extreme emergencies would I even consider going out without first combing my hair and taking care of my appearance. Too often, I’m rushing about utilizing my last few, precious seconds, taking one last look in the mirror to apply lip color or coax a stray strand of hair as I dash out the door. Barely on time, I let out a sigh of relief, “There! Ready!” …Or am I?

    At first glance, I appear to be ready for the day. That’s pretty much where it begins and ends. It seems I’ve only prepared what shows on the outside. I think I’m ready because I’ve confused outward appearance with inner preparedness. I’ve taken great care to prepare my shell, but where the real me resides has been quite overlooked. I’m only fooling myself when I think the only things that show are the clothes, hairstyle and makeup that I’m wearing. My ‘demeanor’ speaks so loudly that it always colors what I’m saying and doing.

    When I’m too hurried or preoccupied to take the time to nurture my inner self, I pay a price and humanity pays a price. At first thought it might seem like an overstatement and that it doesn’t really matter… but I know better. Yes, I may still run as many errands, see everyone I need to see and get everything done in the same order but the price paid is that I’ve traded heartfelt encounters with joyless, token exchanges.

    A “hello” that is accompanied by a real smile that radiates from within is not only seen it is felt. I experienced just such a bright hello on my walk this morning as I passed a fellow walker that I’d never seen before. She greeted me with such joy and enthusiasm that a mere “good morning!” from her immediately lifted my spirits that were not even in need of lifting, or so I thought… It said to me, “I see you, I validate your worth by acknowledging your presence and I wish to share my joy with you today.” How very different that is than an absent-minded hello whose glance never quite reaches our eyes. It got me to thinking that we are all capable of both ways of greeting one another but our ‘default’ setting seems to be of the rushed, preoccupied kind if we even acknowledge one another at all. It takes a certain level of awareness to be mindful of the way we greet others as we go about life.

    Awareness takes time to nurture. In order to make the transition to being fully present to everyone I meet, I must be willing to set aside the time it takes, just like I do for combing my hair and brushing my teeth. I will do it only if I value awareness as much as I value outward appearance. From experience, I know that time spent in silence and self-reflection is an investment in myself as well as in the ‘greater good.’ I see it as tending to my inner garden, and when it is well tended, oh, the joy and love that I experience can’t help but spill over to those I meet in my daily rounds. It is a win-win because as the saying goes, “the fragrance of the flower lingers on the hand of the giver.”

    For this reason, I renew my commitment and effort to make space in my early morning routine to sit in prayerful silence and listen. Listen to my heart, my soul and ask Spirit to guide my self-reflection, to see those imperfections that would best be eliminated and to rejoice with humility, those qualities that reflect Pure Love. My prayer is: “Help me to be open and aware today as to how I can serve. Please use me; that I may bring Love to all, especially those most in need.”

    Once I’ve put myself in that frame of mind, then and only then have I fully prepared myself both inside and out, to go out the door and meet whatever comes my way…

    ~Zanne

    InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

    © 2017 Zanne

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