Tag: life

Manifest

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As an adjective, it means readily perceived or obvious.

As a noun, it’s an inventory list.

As a verb in a more modern context, it’s to bring about with intention through thought, word, and action.

Looking back at this year, it’s pretty obvious there have been a number of challenges, some devastating losses, and some major positive gains. I had significant health concerns that led to some awful dark thoughts which turned out to be an easy fix after a long slog of persistent self-advocacy. I created art of which I’m very proud–100 days of watercolors, a bedroom mural of flowers, redecorating my living room (a place I studiously avoided because of the heavy memories into a space that I have surrounded with warm light and comfortable seating to make gathering pleasant and easy for new memories). The losses were heavy–a dear friend, a precious cousin’s mama, my Aunt Daisy, my Uncle Bob, my kitty Seamus. There was hard work in the garden, in the basement, a yard sale, making space for nephews. A new job, a new-to-me car, a new kitten, a new rhythm of being, so many more good things too. There have been new discoveries and maybe old reminders, too, like hey, life is worth living and time and people are the best joy nuggets (my 30th class reunion had a lot to teach me there), cooking for and with people I love is soul medicine. I was also reminded repeatedly that some relationships are worth pouring energy into and some simply are not. And that’s okay. Time and effort reveal much. Dating apps are for the birds. Yes I tried (un)Hinge(d) and Bumble (aka Stumble) to no success. Regardless, deliberate gratitude, playful humor, and seized joy make EVERYTHING bearable.

For an inventory list or the manifest of what I’m taking into the new year, I’d say the realization that I’m allowed to want good things for myself, hope for those things, a willingness to accept them, and wisdom and discernment to tell what is good for me and what just seems pleasant in the moment. And I’d like to strike through the following items on the list as they are weightier than I can carry: shame, fear, guilt, and cowardice.

In 2026, I’d like to continue growing in my artistic development. I’d like to step out of my comfort zone and try news things, maybe SCUBA or fencing or open mic nights. I think the only thing that keeps the brain from turning mushy is to force it to grow new neural pathways doing stuff it hasn’t ever done before, thinking thoughts it hasn’t thought before. I also want to put myself in new places to meet people I’ve not met before. I have a lot to give to this world even yet and maybe I’ve been a little too comfortable, a little too hidden. And I’m willing to say I’d like to meet someone special. It’s hard to type that out for a lot of reasons. I miss Bryan so much. I always will. But having my nephews in my home has reminded me how much I’m built for sharing time and space and meals and conversation in this home. It’s so lovely to do that with my dearest friends and family. I live for dinner parties and cookie parties and porch gatherings and patio picnics. And I also long for the intimacy and affection and touch of someone who puts their whole heart into loving me back. I’m not ashamed to say I still want that.

Okay, 2026. I’m going to put my helmet on, buckle my seatbelt, and brace myself for as much joy as you can throw at me.

Thinkin’

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There’s a great line in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast where Gaston sings, “LaFou I’m afraid I’ve been thinking,” to which the chubby LaFou responds “…a dangerous pasttime.” Sighing, Gaston agrees with a resigned “I know.” Bryan and I used to quote this a lot. I think about it a lot as an overthinker. In a text exchange with one of my nephews, I concluded that I’m probably an overthinker as a way to navigate being an overfeeler. And maybe I’m really not. Maybe everyone is like this and I just put words to it more readily. I don’t know. It’s a lot. I’m a lot, even for me. Ha!

Some conclusions I’ve drawn, or probably lessons I keep having to learn, are that actions precede emotions. I had a college prof sum it up as “fake it ’til you make it.” But I’m not sure it’s actually faking when doing. Maybe it’s the confidence that’s being faked. I know when I don’t feel strong, lifting weights at the gym is the antidote. When I don’t feel loved or loving, doing something for someone else makes me feel so. When I’m not in a festive mood, I paint snowmen and bake cookies. My Dad used to counsel me a lot about the attitude I brought to the world. It’s in the choosing and doing we define who we are.

I had a recent conversation about reincarnation and how that process is about learning. THIS life is about learning, though–learning ourselves, others, how to be, choosing how to live, how to act or react or not. It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But it is rich and beautiful. The shorter days and darkness make excellent companions to turning inward and evaluating. And being inside puttering around the house listening to music that breaks one’s heart helps too.

Season’s Greetings

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I’ve never been a Christmas card writer. It smells of a forced “have to” that I balk at, but sometimes the mood to share what is good strikes anyway. I’ve tried to make a consistent habit of a Friday invitation to reflection of what is good both for myself and others. I think it’s a habit worthy of continuing. Maybe an annual reflection isn’t so bad either. Often, it can come across as a brag, humble or no, and can be off-putting. I hope to circumvent that, but we will see…

What a difference a year makes. Truly. Last year at this time I was sad, angry, overwrought, in no way wanting to be cheerful or celebratory. It got colder sooner. And I waited to start my full-spectrum lamp. Lots of things conspired against me while my own mood and attitude were conspiring against myself. It’s funny how those negative feedback spirals can build on themselves and grow momentum. But in like manner, positive feedback loops can also build momentum and grow.

This past year I struggled to understand some health issues and then got resolution. What a relief. 100 days of art, doing small watercolor paintings before breakfast, was absolute medicine. Creating a floral mural on my bedroom wall taught me that a. I can do home projects and b. I can do hard work to give my future self a gift. Believe me when I say this bright, cheerful garden in the middle of winter is doing exactly what I had hoped. My garden, Mill Creek, time with friends and family, have given much-needed solace, too. My 30th high school class reunion met up in Athens, Ohio this summer. Did we all get Covid afterward? Yes. Was that kind of the pits? Also, yes. Was it an amazing gift to be with people I love and am learning to love? Resoundingly, yes!

While there has been heartbreaking loss, which always seems to be the way in this life, those losses also remind me of how precious our time together is and how lucky we are for that time. I miss my Aunt Daisy every day–she made me laugh so much. I miss my Uncle Bob’s humor and charm. I miss my Seamus-kitty who was such a loving, community ambassador. There’s no end to hurt, truly, but it is always intermingled with love and gratitude.

I am typing with a brand new kitten napping next to me-my little Luna-berry Malcador Lubbers. Yesterday, I made peppermint patties with my cousin’s youngest son. Today, my kiddo finishes up her first term in graduate school. I am over-the-moon proud of her hard work and diligence and know her Dad would be in the same boat. Next week, I will host my annual sugar cookie extravaganza. And for the past few months, I have had the honor and privilege of welcoming a couple of nephews to stay at my home. Life is hard and rich and amazing and hilarious and heartbreaking and so beautiful. To quote the late, great Bryan Lubbers, “I am the luckiest son-of-a-bitch who ever lived (sorry, Mom).”

The Magic of Puttering

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The amount of work I can get done around the house with a little music and permission to go slow, to get distracted, to play in the midst of it, is pretty incredible. I seriously think I’m undiagnosed ADD. The way my mind works, it’s hard to settle, I’m bouncing from idea and topic like the pollinators in my backyard garden. Now, I can dig down and find the places to do the gritty, hard work when necessary, but that’s not where I normally live. Don’t get me wrong, I get stuff done, but it’s ANYTHING BUT LINEAR.

This morning, for example, I’ve bounced from laundry to dishes to communication with friends and family to getting things ready to bake cookies and now writing a blog post. To me this is ease. To me this is natural. I build in the ability to get distracted from one task to work on another and not be ashamed because the results speak for themselves–the projects get done and I have a fine time at it. It would probably make any type A personality start to get an eye twitch.

I think so often it’s easy to get trapped into thinking there’s the right way of doing things. There’s only one, idealized way. I know I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time in my life thinking I’m not good enough and finally, I’m starting to give myself a little grace. I’m not going to get on my hands and knees and scrub my floor every Friday at 5:30pm. Not gonna. Won’t. Refuse. I’ll clean it when it needs it. Or inspiration strikes. Or I have company coming. It’s remarkable when we give ourselves permission to be ourselves and then with a quirky twist begin to realize that person is likable.

I like that I spend a Sunday morning doing five different chores with a sense of whimsy and the randomness of my mood. The dishes are done, the oven is preheated, the laundry is getting taken care of, I’m writing. I’ll bake some epic cookies, too. I write all this as an invitation–an invitation to give yourself grace, to think about your way of doing things as neither right or wrong, just unique, and that maybe in the noise of everything around us, it’s okay to like the quiet rhythms of living and being authentically ourselves.

To Be Present

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August is on the downward slope and September will be here before we know it. I’ve seen any number of memes about the pull to the coziness of fall–hoodies, warm beverages, nestling under blankets amidst the soft glow of low lamps when darker evenings appear. Kids are going back to school; parents are mixed with relief and grief. It’s such a challenge not to plan, be forward thinking, eye always on the future, but every season is rich unto itself.

Last night I took the fixings for a tarte a la moutarde to my cousin’s and her family. Now don’t tune out yet. Yes a “mustard tart” sounds kind of gross and a little insane, but it is probably one of the most exquisite summer dishes I have ever made. Dijon, gruyere, herbes de Provence, salt, pepper, and fresh garden tomatoes sliced up all on a crust with the edges rolled up. The combination of flavors is heady. As my good friend Holly would say–“restaurant quality.” The time at table with their family, my family, was so good.

In conversation with my cousin, we discussed “being present” versus “flow.” As introverts who value solitude, I could relate to her struggle with longing for flow–that place where we step outside of chronic consciousness into body, creation, and spirit (best I can do) and be physically, mentally, emotionally attuned to this moment in time. Many of these moments in time are brutal for reasons stemming from the personal to the collective. Some of them are boring and tedious. Some of them break our hearts. Bryan talked a lot about the importance of “being here now.” It takes discipline and effort. I find all the easily available tools of dissociation right at my fingertips. I’m not immune. But dissociation is neither presence nor flow.

What can I conclude? To continue to hunt for the joy nuggets of the moment and savor them in real time like we did those tarts last night–ripening tomatoes, produce to share, flowers in glorious reveal, eye contact with a friend over a bawdy joke, phone calls and texts from nieces and nephews, puppies, saying I love you–these help keep us grounded in the right now in ways that comfort our hearts.

Pumpkin spice, cozy blankets, and dark evenings will come soon enough and they will be worthy of savoring, too. Right now, every hot, dusty moment of August and the bucketloads of tomatoes will be plenty of joy unto itself.

[If you like what you read and want to say thank you with gifting me a coffee… 🙂 …you’re welcome to do so here: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]