Vacation was lovely and needed. I was "under the weather" for most of it, but as I told my family, "better to be under-the-weather at the beach than at home." Yes we think we know what the health issue is, no I’m not dying, no I’m not saying until all testing is over. Likely will be one more thing tossed into the category of "So sorry, live with the pain." <—— this is why I so infrequently go to doctors. Just sayin’. Am very fatigued, but am expecting that to pass as I learn to block this as I’ve learned to do with so many other things – being ‘present’ is not all it is cracked up to be. :P~

We hit the book store the first full day of vacation as is a custom created in my youth. As I had my recently purchased Nook with me I was already set. Am creating a Stephen King fan in the grandboy. (I am TOO a good influence!) And techie girl here left her techie bag on the family room floor so I was without the laptop, a paper book, and a sheet of daily practices which I’d wanted to fine tune. Eh, not a biggie as my phone charger fit my Nook, which the boy’s girlfriend noticed, so "Yay, Maura!"

The grandboy did well until Thursday when the expected meltdowns began, but all in all far better than last year where the first meltdown occurred on the first full day. He even issued an apology without prompting which means he can now recognize when he’s gone OTT. This is a Big Deal. He has issues with satiety in regards to pleasure, but I will bring that up with the T next week.

Much mini-golf was played. I was far off of my game this year and didn’t win even one. Humph. Unbelievable!

Really good seafood everywhere except one place. Rusty Rudder in Dewey Beach – Avoid! Harpoon Hanna’s in Fenwick – Go! (We’ve been to HH before and will continue to go back.) Crabby Dick’s is always good, too.

Obligatory photo: 

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It’s a phrase I use on occasion, "Thank you for being you," or some close variation of that. It sounds kind of cheesy and trite yet it is not. Good and kind people are not as few and far between as one might think if we judge only by the news we get fed on TV and the often spiteful anonymous folk who can clutter up comment threads online.

People who are good through to their bones are bit more rare. Part of finding them is being open to their existence and then being open to seeing them as a whole being. When you look at someone fully the good is obvious and rises to the top like cream.

I have been blessed with finding those who possess kind and generous spirits. I have been honored by their ability to allow those spirits to show, unafraid. I have been comforted by them, loved by them, inspired by them.

I understand how difficult it can be to "be who you truly are" in daily life. It requires a level of vulnerability that is too frequently shunned or attempted to be stomped out by a society that values shows of strength and independence over tender care or openness.

Being who you truly are requires an honest assessment of self and Self while beating back fear of judgement or censorship or withdrawal of love by others. It requires a thick enough skin to let the words of those who try to shape you into what you are not roll off of you while maintaning a thin enough skin to connect with those who will love you as you are and appreciate the Who of You. All of You. Even the not-so-pretty-nor-endearing parts.

It is tough stuff. It takes effort to maintain. It is so very worth it. I try to remember to tell people thank you for this effort. I try to notice and acknowledge and thank. It is important to be seen in our good because we are so very very fast to see and remember ourselves in our bad. Sometimes humans are so quick to point out faults, give advice, to "fix", while forgetting to state the things they adore about you. They think them. They think them a lot. They state them far less frequently.

I likely don’t state it nearly enough. But when I do say, "thank you for being you" know that I mean it. Know it is not some tossed off phrase that popped into my head randomly. Know that I saw the good that is you. Know that I understand what it takes to be so and know that I honor your effort. It means the world to me.

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Courage. Seven letters in a particular order that I’ve never been able to own. I can own parts of it. I can own "rage" and "cage" and "race" and "gear". "Gore" and "care" and even "grace". I could go on, but you get the point.

I’ve been told many times throughout this life that I am brave, that I have courage. I moved from flat out denial in verbal protest to quiet acknowledgement, but I did not internalize the idea that I was so. I merely felt people were being overly kind or that they defined the word differently than I did.

When years ago I came across the quote about courage not being lack of fear, but being afraid and going ahead and doing it anyway it almost stuck, then slid away. Not me …..

About nine months ago a friend and covener gave me a little metal medallion. On the back is printed "courage" and on the front is Goddess as tree. She said it was meant for me, it was my "turn". It is something to be given to one who needs it and then when no longer needed to be passed on to the next person. Whoever owns it knows who to pass it on to when it is time.

I inwardly cringed a bit when it was given to me. I thanked my friend and slid it into my purse. I moved it to other purses when I changed over. I was nagged by the prompt for this post last Wednesday while forgetting the medallion. A few days ago while looking for something in the pocket in my purse my fingers lit on it and I remembered the giving. I remembered the cringe and the "I am not brave" thought that flitted through my head. Not me ….

Last week at coven that word came up again. I mentioned never owning it. I said I tell myself it is not courage, it is simply doing what needs to be done. Surviving sexual abuse, mental illness and alcoholism in my family of origin, single parenting for almost a decade, raising chronically ill children. Sitting with the dying, speaking publicly and writing copiously about the abuse, the aftermath, the healing, and the forever broken parts. Standing out and firm and tall in my minority religious beliefs, in my belief for equality across gender, race, and sexual orientation. Speaking the truth as I find it, with care and love.

Done simply because it needs to be. I’ve had conversations with my daughter about how we simply do. How puzzled we are when others don’t. I don’t think she calls herself brave, either. I would. I would tag a lot of people with that adjective because I have seen them live it. I never tagged myself.

I received the medallion as we were to embark on our Shadow Work in the Autumn. Anyone who’s followed my blog through the fallow part of the year knows a lot of what occurred along the way. Had I been another seeing how it all unfolded for someone else I would have called them brave. Not me ….

Until my hand hit on that wee medallion again the other day. I remembered the conversation at coven and realized, finally, that "doing what needs done" is courage. It’s not the hero level of stories "brave". It is the getting up every single day and doing what needs done. It is the living of this life in the best way I can even when in my worst moments I fall so short of who I wish to be. I get up again for another day.

Me. I am. I am brave. I really should own the word, own courage.

My courage medallion needs a new home.

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