Friday, June 1, 2012

Friendships

The concept of friendships has been at the forefront of my contemplations of late. Loss of friendships; the meaning of friendships; the missing of friendships; and the revival of friendships past all have been on the radar this last year. Friendship has been a recurring theme of my healing and growth. Life is ever-changing and friendships are no exception to change. 
I’ve lost a few friendships this year that left me wondering if they were truly healthy friendships. Through the loss I’ve gained a greater clarity and understanding of what a meaningful friendship represents to me. I can count on a few fingers how many friendships I’ve lost over situations that simply didn’t get resolved to the point of animosity. No reason exists for the inability to find respectful resolution other than resentment and grudges (which typically reflect self-righteousness and arrogant pride) by one or both parties involved, through the failure to communicate, disrespect, lack of consideration of another person’s feelings, or simply a need to have things seen or be one’s way. My spiritual life coach often comments on how incredibly self-reflective I am, willing and able to look at every angle of a situation, even from others’ point of view. I do so sometimes to the point of over-analyzing and/or taking on too much responsibility in any given situation. Thankfully, I’ve been provided with support systems that gently say, “Snap out of it!” when I go down that path of bearing too much of the cross. I’ve learned to take responsibility for my actions and mine alone, while restraining the “rescuer” and "pushover" in me from taking on everyone stuff. Out of these losses, I’ve keenly become more aware of my own value system, and how I adopted and participated in friendships that were out of alignment with these values. Through this reflection, I’ve learned to raise the bar on what a meaningful friendship is for me, how I reflect that as a friend, and how others reflect it to honor and respect who I am as well.

In this effort, I’ve gained a friendship that exemplifies the new found understanding of the aforementioned lesson learned. Within this friendship exists many differences, yet we manage them with reverent love and respect. We don’t always see eye-to-eye but we discuss those differences without either of us needing to be right or making the other person wrong. We beautifully dance together among the differences sans self-righteousness, selfishness, and demands that expectations be met, creating a harmoniously coordinated movement through times of disagreement and challenge. In that dance, we developed trust to speak our individual truths without persecution or punishment aimed at the other. This trust deeply anchors our connection and loyalty as we support each other in trying times. We honor each others' need for space without insecurity or compromised senses-of-self. This friendship reflects and encourages multifaceted opportunities in which our friendship welcomes varying interests, other friends with whom we connect and socialize without either needing to be an integral part of it in the name of insecurity or control. This new found friendship is built on a solid foundation that is nurtured every single day with care, selflessness, respect, trust, and unconditional love and support.

I’ve also missed friendships I left behind in Colorado this year, like-minded friendships steeped in the spiritual essence of who I am at the core of my being: peaceful, joyous, loving, harmonious, compassionate, spiritual, and caring. These beautiful friendships of feminine divine connectedness reflect love, self-confidence, selflessness, and goddess beauty; not jealousy, melodrama, victimization, competition for attention, or cattiness. Coming together for community involves sharing of a few glasses of wine, good food, laughter and whimsical musings. These friendships feed the soul, leaving one filled with vibrant energy, not feeling drained or exhausted. My beautiful spiritual sisters from Colorado inspire, motivate and cheer each other on, listen attentively in support, allow each other space to be who we are, and render freely unconditional love and acceptance no matter the situation. Finding such friendships are rare as the gemstones of black opal or red beryl emerald, and they are to be handled with care, tenderly as the precious treasures they are. 

Finally, I’ve revived a past friendship that somewhere along life’s path faded like a ship into the night. This friendship was truly a gift from God upon my arrival to Colorado thirteen years ago as I started a new life in a strange place as a stranger to everything and everyone. A recent blog post about my journey into my new life flushed this friendship from the past after several years of disconnect, a loss I mourned at the time. This friendship exemplified a sisterhood in which we hung out, had fun but also laid our hearts out to share our deepest worries, fears, and greatest dreams; again, no drama,
no angst, no pity parties. The foundation of this friendship was solid, evident upon the recent reunion via email in which despite the years and the many life changes we’ve added to our ticker tape of experience, the rhythm of the friendship fell into its original place of trust, just like old times. 

Like the root base of a tree, the foundation of a friendship determines the strength, the durability, the depth, and the longevity of the connection and its quality. Without the roots of trust, open and healthy communication, respect, integrity, sacred reverence, and unconditional love and acceptance, a friendship cannot withstand the times of change, bumps and challenges. These characteristics I seek in any relationship, but most especially that of my friendships. I honor all the beautiful people within my friendships from the past, present, and those yet to be, for they are my soul mates teaching me, challenging me to expand my soul and its Light in this life. All with whom I’ve traveled the road of friendships I send love, blessings and gratitude for teaching me who I am. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Goodbye Kentucky. Hello Colorado.

April 20, 1999 was the day I left Kentucky to embark on a new adventure, nay, a new life. I had no idea what I was getting into, what lie before me, and what to expect. I simply surrendered to the journey. I've yet to decide if I was fully conscious to what I was doing or on some intuitive auto-pilot during this time.

Before leaving Kentucky, I worked for Wyatt, Tarrant & Combs as marketing director for the Lexington and Frankfort offices. Upon announcing my resignation and the reason why, many co-workers marveled at what I was about to do. One called me brave. I didn't really see myself as brave at that point, but today I understand why someone may say that. I knew no one in Colorado, my cousins having long since moved on to other states. I'd later meet a couple of people while out for an interview before I actually make the move. Even “braver” I'm told going without having secured a job first. Brave or crazy, I'm not sure, but the good news was I landed a job offer two days before I left Kentucky. Life was falling into place.

I headed out early that April morning, giving my worried mom reassurance with one last hug that I would be fine. By the time I landed for the night in Kansas, I'd learn in a phone call home letting mom and dad know I was okay that tragedy struck in Littleton, the very community where I shopped for my apartment. Columbine. It wouldn't be until I arrive the next day that I would fully grasp the severity of what actually happened. Honestly, I don't think anyone at the time understood what had happened. I've shared in previous blog posts about this experience and how Columbine would instantly hook me into the Littleton community.

After arriving to Denver, I lived in a La Quinta Inn for almost two weeks while I sorted out the final arrangements on my apartment which was across the street and park from Columbine High School. I had only that which I could carry in my Toyota Tercel when I headed West, and given it was a small car, that wasn't much. I moved into my new place with nothing but the clothes I brought with me. The first night in my apartment I slept on the floor; two hours into a sleepless night, I decided to go to Walmart to get an air mattress. They were closed! The Walmart in Kentucky stayed open 24 hours! How can it be closed!?!  No, Toto, I don't think we're in Kentucky anymore.

It would be another two weeks before I'd start my new job with Grant Thornton LLP as marketing director for both the Denver and Colorado Springs offices. I spent time getting affairs often associated with a move in order: Colorado driver's license, license plates, banking accounts, change of address cards completed, etc. I also visited the Columbine memorial that developed across the street in Clement Park. The amount of people that came through there was overwhelming.  So many in fact that the once lush sodded grass was reduced to grass-less mud thanks to April snow showers. I had to show my ID in order to get into my apartment complex. Media trucks were everywhere. This madness would last at least a month.

I hung out with a gal I met only the week before at a legal marketing conference – Aleisha. She was a godsend of an angel who reached out to me with empathy having herself transplanted there from Texas knowing no one. Our friendship developed as we got to know each other and she showed me around the area.

I learned a lot in the first few weeks in Colorado. You can't drink as much in the higher altitude as you would at sea level; you get plastered faster if you do. The higher altitude will take your breath away, literally, even from climbing a simple flight of stairs. It took several months before my lungs adjusted to the thinner air. Colorado has no humidity, which means the air is drier, which means drier skin. I had to drink more water and lather with lotion more then I've ever in my life. They have these lanes called HOV lanes; high occupancy vehicles meaning no cars unless there are more than one person in it could expressly travel through traffic.

In the time before starting my job, the reality of this major change in my life hit me and homesickness set in. I didn't know but a couple of people. I missed my dogs which were in my parents' safekeeping until they brought my furniture out the next month. I missed my family. I missed familiarity.

Yet, here I was.  Despite the tears and the fears that crept up, I dealt with the realization that life as I had known it in Kentucky was no more. A new life in Colorado, unknown, uncertain, and for reasons still unclear to me, had begun.