Archive for May 13th, 2008

Hey Everyone,

I am playing a game with myself. Every time I enter
a negative, feel bad thought process, I interrupt it and
I say:

I love you.

And in my case, I insert my name, so it’s:

I love you Bethie.

I say it over and over to interrupt the habitual thought
pattern. It’s sort of like coitus interruptus, but not.
Ok, bad joke. Ok, really bad joke :).

Wait, I just judged myself, I have to go do 50 I love
you’s. It’s the antithesis of ‘give me 50 push ups’.
I’m interrupting the habitual thought patterns with
love. How cool is that?!

Mind you, I’ve said a gazillion I love you’s today to
myself. I have a big fat headache since I must be
interrupting some major neural pathways right now!

I bore easily so the other thing I do the second a
negative thought pattern tries to hit the ground running,
I stop and do a rapid fire thank you list in my mind.
Thank you electricity, thank you toes, thank you breathing,
thank you clothing, thank you supple body, thank you health,
thank you fingers. Basically thank you anything.

It’s really amazing how many things there are to thank
in this world, an infinite array.

And any minute now this headache will go away! I’ll
keep you posted on how my little experiment goes.

And by the way, you can try this at home. :)

Love, Bethie

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It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

~ Anne Sexton ~

(The Awful Rowing Toward God)

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