I have been writing a personal blog once a month for 10 years. It seems surreal that so much time has passed and so many blogs have been written. At my age, 56, it went by quickly.
This is a picture of my first blog, "I Want My Old Job Back." Kevin will be 35 years old in a few days.
I was motivated to write Life Is Life to remember my full life experiences with Rich and the world we lived in the early 21st century. I wanted to leave behind a digital footprint for our kids or grandkids that may want to look back on this, years after we are gone.
In our family, I was the curious one. I searched long and hard to learn about my grandparents and great grandparents. Rich and I spent hours and hours learning about our family’s stories. I have a few copies of letters from Asa Reyburn, my great great grandfather (my Grandma passed them on to us). He was a Mormon who lived in Idaho. He wrote articulate, long newsy letters to my grandmother’s mother.
It can be discussed if what I’ve written has been meaningful or useful for future generations. I have been bold in my opinions (especially on politics, religion, and social justice). I have only shared how I have evolved and expanded outside my conditioned thinking—which is personal and not up for debate anymore. It took me a long time to find my voice. I have had to risk ruffling the sensibilities of friends or family who were not as outspoken or ready for our new thoughts. Rich and I have always felt a little outside the box of our spiritual family. People were uncomfortable knowing what we ‘really’ think. Like when I wrote, 'The Gospel According To The NRA.' https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-gospel-according-to-nra.html Or #FeelTheBurn https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2016/03/feelthebern.html
Over time, some of those friends dropped off as our spiritual and religious identities were expanded; to some friends, that was a bridge to far. To us, it was just the beginning of a whole new life to explore outside of our bubble. It made all the difference to question everything. We were grateful along the way to meet new like-minded friends.
Generations from now, nobody will be upset. They will read these random blogs like an old document. They may want to mine them to see if there are any sociological nuggets. They may be curious how much did human behavior change due to our modern-day events, politics or pandemics. They may be curious about what eclipsed the collective soul of our times in individuals. They will learn themes of love and loss, consciousness and consequences, healing and hope, mental health issues like suicide, depression, and addiction, relationship struggles, and worst of all, apathy and arrogance. Since energy never dies, they may sense a kind of morphic resonance, like we felt with our ancestors; I am wordy just like Asa. Our grandkids or great-grand kids may want to look back on it to see if they recognize anything within themselves which they also see in us. There are even a few funny blogs that got a lot of attention, such as Poop Happens https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2018/01/poop-happens.html
When I was hacked the end of May 2020 and my identity stolen, I was devastated. I lost 13 years of photos and content and memories from Facebook and Instagram (since they were linked)---the best 13 years of my life. If anything happened to anyone I loved during that time--Rich, Kevin, the Kids or grandkids, even my siblings, friends, or parents--I’ll never be able to relive those memories through the photos and comments that would have showed up on the Facebook posts. Even my beloved memories of Fred are gone; as well as all the pictures and silly posts of Being Buddha. All my heartfelt written ‘celebrations of life’ of dear friends that have journeyed on are gone too. Poof it was all gone. Who am I kidding; life is more of a mandala than a memento.
I have been off social media for a month. I was too exhausted to go back on Facebook; thinking about starting over (especially my business profiles on Facebook and Instagram) made me sad. So I didn’t. I had to spend hours on the phone for weeks to make identity theft reports with the Federal Trade Commission and police because money was involved; I had to track down anyone I could think of who might still be using my old hacked email account and old debit cards.
It felt daunting to start over. I was grieving so much of my life.
This was happening during the first three months of the worldwide pandemic of Covid19. Over a hundred thousand people had died in our country (those death statistics are still climbing). I had been sheltering in place for 3 months. Life was kind of boring and dull. I gained 20-lbs from eating bread and baked goods—which would give me a Serotonin hit so as not to lose my mind. Social media was a nice escape while we all went inside. Collectively, I could hold space with the rest of the country and my friends who were all struggling not to be fearful or isolated and alone. I would spend hours watching TV to learn the latest updates and input from top infectious disease doctors from all over the world. I watched about 80% of Andrew Cuomo’s lunchtime Covid19 news briefs. And watching Trump epically fail at leading our nation, creating a partisan pandemic narrative, and put our lives at stake. People were not going to wear their masks when lockdown ended; I realized we were not going to all be like Japan and wear our masks to protect one another. No, for 1/3 of the country, the mask was an issue of freedom and rights: “Don’t tread on me and tell me I have to wear a mask in public!” People actually died asking people not to come into places of business without a mask on—literally shot dead because they were told to wear a mask! This intense negative energy was palpable as lines were drawn in politics and in communities. Business owners were scared and often relaxed mask requirements. That meant I wasn’t going to be able to come out of my house for another year or more until herd immunity or a vaccine was available. I was deeply depressed for the entire month of May over the lack of civil consideration during a pandemic. Then George Floyd was murdered.
I have watched plenty of killings in my life on TV or in the movies. But I have never watched a man be murdered before our eyes for nearly 9-minutes. The inhumanity was more than I could bear. Collectively, the entire world said that is enough; police brutality and race inequality had to be addressed if we are going to move forward. Protests happened all over the country (and I couldn’t even participate because of the pandemic). All I could do was watch and cry and bear witness to it all.
Division and disagreements unnerved friends and family members who didn’t know how to talk about their differences of opinions with each other. I was even told by one family member that I was now ‘dead to them’ for my liberal views. (Another crushing loss.) We were all trying to find words to share how we feel. We don’t have the language yet to understand one another. I feel we have put too much stock in our leaders to bring about change. We have been trained by systems that are failing. We know we need to change things but it’s daunting. And it’s taking too long to do the right thing. Martin Luther King Jr. said, ‘The arc of moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.’ He forgot to mention that it might cost us something in our communities and relationships to stand up for our convictions.
Generations from now, nobody will be upset. They will read these random blogs like an old document. They may want to mine them to see if there are any sociological nuggets. They may be curious how much did human behavior change due to our modern-day events, politics or pandemics. They may be curious about what eclipsed the collective soul of our times in individuals. They will learn themes of love and loss, consciousness and consequences, healing and hope, mental health issues like suicide, depression, and addiction, relationship struggles, and worst of all, apathy and arrogance. Since energy never dies, they may sense a kind of morphic resonance, like we felt with our ancestors; I am wordy just like Asa. Our grandkids or great-grand kids may want to look back on it to see if they recognize anything within themselves which they also see in us. There are even a few funny blogs that got a lot of attention, such as Poop Happens https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2018/01/poop-happens.html
When I was hacked the end of May 2020 and my identity stolen, I was devastated. I lost 13 years of photos and content and memories from Facebook and Instagram (since they were linked)---the best 13 years of my life. If anything happened to anyone I loved during that time--Rich, Kevin, the Kids or grandkids, even my siblings, friends, or parents--I’ll never be able to relive those memories through the photos and comments that would have showed up on the Facebook posts. Even my beloved memories of Fred are gone; as well as all the pictures and silly posts of Being Buddha. All my heartfelt written ‘celebrations of life’ of dear friends that have journeyed on are gone too. Poof it was all gone. Who am I kidding; life is more of a mandala than a memento.
I have been off social media for a month. I was too exhausted to go back on Facebook; thinking about starting over (especially my business profiles on Facebook and Instagram) made me sad. So I didn’t. I had to spend hours on the phone for weeks to make identity theft reports with the Federal Trade Commission and police because money was involved; I had to track down anyone I could think of who might still be using my old hacked email account and old debit cards.
It felt daunting to start over. I was grieving so much of my life.
This was happening during the first three months of the worldwide pandemic of Covid19. Over a hundred thousand people had died in our country (those death statistics are still climbing). I had been sheltering in place for 3 months. Life was kind of boring and dull. I gained 20-lbs from eating bread and baked goods—which would give me a Serotonin hit so as not to lose my mind. Social media was a nice escape while we all went inside. Collectively, I could hold space with the rest of the country and my friends who were all struggling not to be fearful or isolated and alone. I would spend hours watching TV to learn the latest updates and input from top infectious disease doctors from all over the world. I watched about 80% of Andrew Cuomo’s lunchtime Covid19 news briefs. And watching Trump epically fail at leading our nation, creating a partisan pandemic narrative, and put our lives at stake. People were not going to wear their masks when lockdown ended; I realized we were not going to all be like Japan and wear our masks to protect one another. No, for 1/3 of the country, the mask was an issue of freedom and rights: “Don’t tread on me and tell me I have to wear a mask in public!” People actually died asking people not to come into places of business without a mask on—literally shot dead because they were told to wear a mask! This intense negative energy was palpable as lines were drawn in politics and in communities. Business owners were scared and often relaxed mask requirements. That meant I wasn’t going to be able to come out of my house for another year or more until herd immunity or a vaccine was available. I was deeply depressed for the entire month of May over the lack of civil consideration during a pandemic. Then George Floyd was murdered.
I have watched plenty of killings in my life on TV or in the movies. But I have never watched a man be murdered before our eyes for nearly 9-minutes. The inhumanity was more than I could bear. Collectively, the entire world said that is enough; police brutality and race inequality had to be addressed if we are going to move forward. Protests happened all over the country (and I couldn’t even participate because of the pandemic). All I could do was watch and cry and bear witness to it all.
Division and disagreements unnerved friends and family members who didn’t know how to talk about their differences of opinions with each other. I was even told by one family member that I was now ‘dead to them’ for my liberal views. (Another crushing loss.) We were all trying to find words to share how we feel. We don’t have the language yet to understand one another. I feel we have put too much stock in our leaders to bring about change. We have been trained by systems that are failing. We know we need to change things but it’s daunting. And it’s taking too long to do the right thing. Martin Luther King Jr. said, ‘The arc of moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.’ He forgot to mention that it might cost us something in our communities and relationships to stand up for our convictions.
I needed a break. I thought that my input was important; if I didn’t speak up in my circles, who would? I always felt I would be that drop in the bucket. Emotionally it seemed in vain, but logically and spiritually it’s not futile. Eccl 3:1-8 “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted, a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a dime to dance; a time to cast stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”
These verses have actually summarized the last 10 years of my blogs. And while I have lost a lot of memories due to the hacking, miraculously, they didn’t get to my online blog. I retain these past 10 yeas of our story.
In the meantime, I’m off social media and have even turned off the news; if you knew me, you would understand how astounding that is for a political junkie. It was necessary to create some distance and discipline from the mental noise of resistance to transformation. I’m enjoying the stillness and spaciousness of just being. I trust that this time will serve my soul well.
I also trust that right now good people, hundreds of thousands of good people, are publicly expressing the call for change and helping to bend that arc of justice. I am so in awe of you.
I will spend my time praying and meditating and sending out good energy of love and light and heavenly entreaties of healing for us all. And if moved by the spirit to write, I will continue to be a witness and write some of it down.
Ps-I would like to thank Rich who has edited hundreds of his dyslexic wife's blogs over the last 10 years. He truly has been my biggest fan--supports everything I do. I love him MORE than words. But here are a few. https://lifeislifebykimb.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-best-is-yet-to-come.html
💙💙💙💙💙
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