Search Results

Growing up I knew I had some quarks: numbers I liked, on my alarm clock, and stereo volume; chewing two items of the same snack food at a time so they would not be lonely in my stomach; compulsive truth telling so I would not go to Hell, and other religious rituals to protect me from dying in my sleep, and my family from harm; rituals before karate tournaments, which include a hearty breakfast of Coca-Cola, and beef jerky, and I had to wear thong underwear, because it was going up my butt anyway when I kicked you in the head; packing for every weather event, even though I lived in California; lifting my feet over railroad tracks, even though it almost cost me my driving test; exposure to making and receiving dreaded phone calls at jobs in my teen years and beyond; drawing hand patterns on each of my fingers and palm to be congruent, continuously throughout the day. Those are a few I remember well.  Then came, and with the addition of my attempts at exposure: just right, hand washing, had to be done over if I had looked at a dirty thing in the bathroom; more symmetry with my hands, which now I recall as a child I was afraid they would get bored; watching my children walk through the front gate of the school before driving away; to this day, saying to my husband ‘drive safe’ before he leaves for work; we do this still without thinking, a compulsion I created- saying ‘I love you’ after leaving a room; checking that I locked the door, making a special memory each day of locking the door; attempting to undo intrusive thoughts of disaster or death with shrugs; touching the blade of a knife to ensure I was not going to chop off my own fingers; touching my forehead to corners of cabinets to ensure I was not going to bash my head on them; writing, reading, rereading, and rereading, and rereading emails and texts, for 40 minutes plus to make sure all words were exact and accurately expressed; intrusive disaster and harm thoughts, which make every outing one in which I plan my exits; unable to drive over bridges was my last straw. In 2018, I could not longer drive over bridges.  I had always hated them but could drive over bridges even in my rigid steering wheel hold.  My grandmother could not drive on highways.  My grandmother could barely be a passenger in a car.  I recall one moment when I was about 8 years old, my younger sister was 6.  We were in the back seat and my grandfather was driving us up a mountain highway to visit his sisters for the week.  My grandmother in the passenger seat, wailing crying, yelling and pulling at his shirt, I suppose preparing us or pleading for us to not fall to our sudden death off the mountain road.  I remember sheer terror at the possibility that we were going over the edge- but my little sister was sitting beside me, looking at me.  I never asked her what she thought or remembered about this, but I recall calm coming over me, and reassuring her that we were fine.  In that moment, she was all that mattered, my focal point.  I love my grandmother, she was a very important figure in my life.  She taught me to write by creating dotted letters that I would trace.  The first word I learned, before my own name, was poop.  P-O-O-P.  And I wrote is EVERYWHERE.  P-O-O-P. P-O-O-P.  Everywhere.  I followed her to the bathroom just so I could write.  She would listen to me speak for hours.  I do not know what I would talk to her about, but she would listen and respond like I was the most important person in the room.  We traveled to Sweden when I was 8 years old, and she spoiled me rotten, always listening to everything that crossed my mind.  She championed me, empowered me, allowed me to be assertive and vocal, allowed me to ask questions, encouraged me to be my best self.  I love her with my whole heart and soul.  I learned to say “Mormor bajs gås”- which translates to Grandmother Poop Goose.  This was hilarious, and made great sense to me. Sadly, my grandmother’s last years were spent in her room.  I was married in June 2006, and this was the last event she attended other than Christmas that year with my encouragement.  My grandmother suffered from undiagnosed PTSD, Agoraphobia, and OCD.  I recall her world being small as she mostly stayed in her kitchen in my childhood and adolescence, and then her world shrank more, to her upstairs, and then shrank more only to her bedroom.  She died in September 2008, her last words to me were through instant message- I sent her my sonogram of my daughter, and she said, “That’s our girl.”  I was diagnosed with OCD in 2018.  I have fear in my mind every moment of every day; I have some compulsions that I can live with, and honestly, I am fortunate to say,  many of my obsessive thoughts and behaviors have served me well, possibly because I constantly did my own exposures.   And thinking back to her, the love I have for her, and the hope I had that she would come out of that room-  I know that I cannot ever stay in the room.  I live every day of my life with the intention of being able to leave ‘my room.’  If I am afraid of it, then that is the thing I will be doing.  At the end of my life I hope I can look back and see a life well lived, not because I was fearless, but that I lived a life without regret, courageously.  Bravery is not the absence of fear, it is the presence of fear and the perseverance to do it anyway.  Sometimes that means waking up in the morning, and facing the day- to that I say, “It’s enough.”  And Mormor bajs gås, I love you and miss you every day.  Thank you for loving and believing in me.

A Good Shunning My family has naturally, practically, and stubbornly practiced the art of shunning.  I was really good at shunning, until I revealed the art of shunning verbally to my children.  My grandmother did not speak to her mother over a year, and upon the death of my Granny, my Grandmother asked why she was not told, although she was, but could not, unfortunately, overcome the shunning. As a child, of about 10 years old, I recall the shunning that took place between my mother and my grandmother.  It lasted a little over a year.  As I recall-  my grandfather was sick, elderly, in and out of the hospital.  My grandmother, felt that her children were not caring for him, this particularly did not apply to my mother, who had cared for him and given greatly, but my mother was nonetheless, almost spanked out the door at the family meeting. At this family meeting I was also shamed, for having my grandfather help me on a school project.  I did not know that my grandfather’s help for my project, meant my mother would owe, and for that I am sorry. My mother and I were superb at shunning, as she has learned from her mother, and her mother before her.  I think, I might be just as good, if not better than my mother, when it comes to shunning.  We may never really know, because my father would not allow the in-home shunning to go one longer than about 10 days.  He would call us together, when he could take the shunning no longer, and make me apologize, this would bring peace back to the home. I have practiced the art of shunning on my husband, and it is quite effective, but in a healthy way, it seems that we are ‘taking space.’  I have shunned my son, who is also a master shunner; because to master a good shunning is to use it rarely, which we both understand.  We cannot shun each other, its too painful.  I have done the thing that makes the shunning most ineffective- I have verbalized that shunning is a skill I possess and use when necessary.  My children now know about a ‘good shun’ and now it does not last long.  Maybe a day….  If I was not a super fan of good and assertive communication, I guess I would be more upset. Apologies to the proper practice of shunning in my family lineage- you served a purpose, I am sure, for many years.  Now, I choose the possibility of humility, responsibility, and forgiveness.  It has thus far served me well.

April 30 th  2024 I was baptized by my father, a true believer.  Many things I like to choose and control, but I find what is out of my control becomes the most interesting parts of my existence.  The date that my parents were to visit, was of convenience, and the day that worked best for my baptism, also of convenience, happened to be between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  As a true fan of symbolism, I could not have chosen it better. My Testimony was as follows: I have watched many be baptized, atop the pulpit in the church.  I did not understand this relationship that these people had with God.  I did not feel His touch or love that they spoke of.  As an adolescent, my father asked me at dinner one night if I wanted to be baptized, and to his disappointment, I plainly told him no.  Despite the possible pain this caused him, I am glad that this was my position.  I was not ready to receive salvation.  I needed to experience the world; to know it’s good and evil; question teachings of science, philosophy, psychology and theology; experience internal loneliness, loss and personal suffering.  I needed to struggle with unanswered prayers, and to realize that these prayers were not unanswered. These prayers were not granted because I was not praying for the right things, but to avoid the suffering that would allow me to grow.  I needed to know that I was a person worthy of salvation, not because my Father graciously deemed it so, but because I deemed it so to be worthy of Him.    I now believe, The Spirit of God is what manifests within me, as opposition to tyranny, evil, injustice and cruelty.   This Spirit has always lived in me, even when I fought against Its existence.  This Spirit has always empowered me to speak up for the little guy, to speak and seek the truth, and attempt to heal and guide the lives of others.  I am not sure if I chose the Snake River, or if it chose me.  This has been a recent realization in the pattern of choice that I am contending with. Anyway, I hope to cleanse the snakes within me or come to understand them so they may be redeemed.  I am brave enough to know more, feel Your compassion, acceptance and love.  I am humble enough to admit my inadequacies and embrace my quirky imperfections because I know these attributes serve Us, and touch others who are in great need.  Facing fear does not mean being less afraid, it means developing more courage, more faith, and with that I thank You for making me strong, brave, trusting and honest.  I wanted to be baptized in cold water.  I need to feel physical suffering, at a fraction of what Your Son, Lord, has suffered.  This is how I can know Him better. I accept the suffering and love that You may place upon me.    I am not a hugger, and so I think God is not a hugger for me, which is why  I could not feel that love the others spoke of, but now, I realize that I hear and have always been listening to His voice.  God is Good, let his Goodness cleanse me.   Matthew 7:10 “Thus by their fruit, you shall know them.” Location: River Canyon Trail, where it felt right   My father spoke the following: Daily Prayer "Thank you for this day Thank you for every day you have given me Thank you for  every day you give me after  Forgive me my sins Bless my family and keep them healthy In Jesus's name In the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Ghost" Amen     Baptism Prayer "Thank you for this day Thank you for every day you have given us Thank you for  every day you give us after  Today I am a fisherman of souls Allow me to be the instrument of your will I do this in Jesus name In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost" Amen "Do you Brandy Leigh accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior forsaken all others"    "I do" "In Jesus name" He qued- Into the water you go, and you are saved!

The Beatles said, “Love is All You Need.”  I have fought this for a long time, I think because I have understood the concept of love poorly, because the feeling of love, the desire felt when we are in ‘love’ can be easy, and fleeting, but is not always sustained as easily.  The misconception is not that love is all you need, but that love takes a lot of work.  Not because it is hard to love people and things for a time, but because it is hard to live a life daily based upon the concept of love, acting with love, giving grace, having gratitude, and sometimes making hard but good decisions, like advocating for what is right but unpopular, honoring a commitment that is good but not fun, and setting boundaries with loved ones for their betterment, or your own.  Love, most often is associated with two major relationships- romantic (partners) or parent to child (unconditional love)- if you are so lucky.  Romantic love- Passion, desire, longing- these are parts of it.  They are good parts, but not the best or only parts.  Parent to child, is love unconditional at its best, but when people are broken their capacity for love does not always fill the well of love their child may have capacity for.  Love is more than these relationships- love is all the respect and kindness that you behave with in the world.  I hold the door for a stranger- an act of kindness from love.  They do not thank you- unrequited love- their loss.  But why hold it against them?  Perhaps their capacity is small, and perhaps your gesture fills or expands their capacity.  If we forever extend our love and kindness to others, how can we live with regret?  Truth to the genuine self is acting in a state of love for others, of course in hopes that there will be return, but even upon no return, do you have regret?  Regret is a deep state of emotional debt. My initial inclination was to say that regret is not often earned by the debtor, however, debt often translates to ‘things left unsaid or undone.’  Genuine and assertive communication of your thoughts and feelings, the things we wish we would have done but did not, decreases and sometimes cancels emotional debt.  That is not to say that the collector of this expression or deed is capable, or receptive to receiving it.  Emotions, thoughts, feelings and love are ours to give, the giving is all we control.  Regret becomes resentment either to others or to self.  Live each day with love and kindness to self and others, and you will have peace. Did I do all I could do for them?  Did I do all I could, in my capacity today?  If you can say yes, I did that with love and kindness, then you can be at peace. If we want to go further- all Butterfly effect- smile at people, look them in the eye, greet them.  The flutter of that moment might be the catalyst for their life. That moment of breaking from their spiraling thoughts may ground them in love and light that goodness imparts.  A person can walk into a room and feel tension, anger, sadness and sorrow.  The reverse is also true, gratitude, joy, and compassion can also be felt.  The positive emotions seem to need to try a lot harder, possibly because these emotions are harder to achieve and sustain, and just the same they can be passed on and along to an open receiver.  God is love.  Perhaps that is why it is harder to achieve, because this is a far more complex emotion, one of divinity, as it is the one emotion that all people recognize that does not serve itself.  Perhaps the best way to characterize love in daily life is self-lessness.  Love is a never ending loop- the more love you give, the more love you receive; and that may be because the more you give selfless love the more you can find love for yourself.

I do not know what Good Beet is yet. I had originally hoped that Good Beet would be a sort of “Pay it Forward” social media site, where people could report acts of kindness. Each act of kindness could then be mapped forward or back, creating a visual of the impact and narrative of small acts of kindness for others. How could I start this? I told my younger sister my idea was to create a QR code for Good Beets to share their story. It could be passed from person to person to map where the goodness started and how it expanded. I told her I would start by giving someone in the grocery store, at random $100 and the ‘code’ but say nothing about passing it on.  She did laugh at me for this. In the drive-thru line at the local Moxie Java at 6:45a.m., disheveled looking after attending hot yoga that morning, I was in line to buy coffees for my family’s Wednesday coffee day.     A woman walked up to my open window, while I was fiddling with my phone.  When I looked up she extended her hand with a crisp five dollar bill, and she said, “I just saw you sitting here, and I wanted to give you this and wish you a wonderful day.”  I was so jarred by the unexpected approach and offering that I am not sure I even socially appropriately denied the gift. I think I said, “Are you sure?”   She insisted, and I thanked her and said something I do not normally say, “Bless You.” Between that moment and the window, many thoughts rushed through my brain. Why was I given this gift? What is God telling me? Was there a connection between sensing the yoga instructor’s low mood from his shoulder pain and my saying “Have a wonderful day” when I left?   Was I being tested to see if I was a Good Beet, that  I should pay it forward somehow?  Should I use this same bill?  Should it be random?  Where and who should I give it to? I put the five dollar bill in the center console of the truck.  I approached the window and paid, received my coffees, and when she asked would I like to leave a tip, I looked at the console.  Should I get rid of this now is what I thought.  Should I get rid of this obligation to pay it forward, so I do not have to think of other ways to do it.  I had already used my card, so I did leave a tip on the card, although it was not the amount of $5.  I thought, I will do this half kindness now until I know what to do with the bill.  I was troubled all the way home, wondering how I should spend the entire bill or at least the remainder.   Four coffees were traveling with me and they had put them in a drink carrier.  I made it all the way to the left turn bump in my neighborhood, before one of the coffees fell to the passenger seat, and then to the floor.  I watched it in slow motion, thinking about how I could recover it, since the lid had not yet popped off.  The full cup hit the floor.  Lid still on.  There was a long second, in which I still thought I could save it.  Then the lid popped off and just as slowly drenched the floor.  Within another minute I made it home.  In that minute thinking, was that my coffee or my daughter’s coffee?  If it was her coffee, would I go back out to get her a new one?  I thought yes, of course.  Then I thought, well, she won’t be up for another few hours, I can go out later.  When I arrived home, after one minute, I found out it was mine.  Then immediately felt guilty for the idea that I might have put off replacing her coffee, because I most certainly was prepared to replace mine.  I delivered the remaining coffees safely and returned to the truck. I went three minutes down the road to the other Moxie, pulled out my crisp five dollar bill, and said to myself, 'She told you to have a wonderful day. No use crying over spilt milk and espresso.' Did she foresee that my coffee would spill? Should I have paid that bill forward? I think not. She meant that for me, whether she predicted the future or not. And I will be happy to pay it forward in other ways, every day, because that is what Goodness is.   Goodness is something you always have with you that you can always transfer to others.  Perhaps selfishly, I allowed myself to keep another’s Goodness for me, and perhaps not selfishly, but because I am human, I needed a little Goodness to be given.  I wish I knew who this woman was, because she did make my day.  I am grateful for her small act of kindness, because it was large to me.