Sal's Musings

I would like to address something that has presented itself since my last post.  The issue in regard to women feeling like housework is all their responsibility and husbands don’t help out.  Yes there are definitely men out there that hold hard to the “pink and blue work” mentality but I have seen how the majority of men are willing to help out around the house if we would only ask .  But then there is the problem of “but I shouldn’t have to ask!  They should just know!" We need to go a little deeper with this whole “battle” to understand it and be able to shift our perception into a more productive space.  Regardless of how we feel about it we still live in a society where for the most part there is still very much the "pink and blue work" mentality in, at the very least, our subconscious and it is going to be a very long time before it is fully removed from our social conditioning "portfolio".  A big part of it is "the house is the woman's

That picture was me.  Well not literally 😏 So here is my story about the rage I felt that night I wrote about in my previous page.  How it began was, I had spent the afternoon and early evening texting with a close friend with whom I enjoy very deep conversations.  I always feel very good and uplifted afterwards being able to share so deeply and completely with this woman.  But this time I noticed near the end that my comments were becoming laced with cynicism and resentment ( not towards her).  When we were finished, I felt extremely out of sorts but had no idea why.  Obviously something near the end of the conversation had triggered some unknown emotional “button”.  I couldn’t figure out what it was.  Couldn't shake it.  It carried on through the rest of the evening.  By the time I went to bed, all of this nasty energy was coursing through my body and I knew I was going to have a rough night.  I managed to get to sleep quickly but sure enough, I woke up at 1:30 am fit to

Many years ago I ran across a picture (really wish I could find it but haven’t had any luck) of Buddha sitting peacefully in mediation in the centre surrounded by a collage of pictures of noise and confusion.  It really stuck with me.  I yearned for that kind of peace.  I used to go to a women’s drumming group.  The place we gathered was beautiful and peaceful.  We would all breathe a sigh of relief as we pulled up the long driveway surrounded by cedar trees.  The evenings spent there, all the participants enjoyed a state of bliss.  One night while we were sharing, I mentioned this sense of bliss we all had but commented on how we needed to find a way to feel like this in our everyday lives, not just in places and moments like these.  I remember everybody looking at me like I had three heads!  Since then I have spoken to people about this “elusive place” and wanting to achieve it and have been told (and I’m talking about spiritual teachers) that it is not possible.  That it is a

I find this a often.  I look for a quote to place at the top of the page that embodies what I wish to write about and come up with mostly negative version – looking for a “No Expectations” one was no exception (just shows how attached me seem to be to negative views)  Majority of them were things like “Have no expectations and people will not disappoint you” as if it is the other persons fault for falling short.  I don’t think any of us enjoy having expectations put upon us (at least when it isn’t agreed upon by both parties) so why do we feel it is perfectly acceptable to put them on others?  And then when the person (who hasn’t agreed t our expectations) fails to live up to them we get bent out of shape and angry at them!   Who many relationships have been destroyed simply for that fact that one or both individuals don’t live up to the imposed expectations?  There is a psychological term called “projecting” and I feel this is a perfect example of just that.  Projecting (just lik

Several years ago my husband built me a closet in the basement for my house redecorating supplies.  It is great.  Has lots of room and shelves.  Was so nice to have somewhere I could organize everything.  Started out putting things away neatly but of course as years went by it became messy through me just tossing stuff in and instead of being somewhere to keep all my supplies organized it turned into a place that just hid the mess. I am about to paint my dining room.  There were  a few spots on the walls that needed filling so off I go to brave my closet to look for my filler.  I couldn't find it.  I'm moving stuff all around looking and looking and finally got fed up and made up my mind I was going to pull everything out and get it organized again.  Half way through I look at the mess I'd created and started thinking "What the hell did I get myself in too!"  At that point I had a choice of giving up and just chucking everything back in there or keep going.  I

I'd been thinking about what I want to write about next. I had all these ideas of where I wanted to go next but this morning sudden felt this strong urge to write about something that has nothing to do with any of the type of things I intended for this blog. Don`t know why but here it is. This is a story about a resent situation with my cat Patches.  I will give a bit of background info first. Patches joined our family nine years ago as a kitten.  He was the kitten of a feral cat I had befriended at work.  He was an odd little guy right from the get go.  His mom had had three kittens and she kept them in a burnt out van in our wrecking yard.  When I would go to check on them, the other two would run and hide but he would stop what he was doing and sit and just stare at me.  At the time I wasn’t interested in any more pets.  We had two dogs at home and had a couple years before had lost their mother to sever epilepsy.  But there was something about this little guy.  It was almo

So I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog and how I wish to precede.   What it is I wish to accomplish.   What it is I wish to do.   What the point is.   Trying to dig deep to see what my motivations really are and is it really something I WANT to do and if so, why?   Part of me keeps holding back because there is a fear that I’m doing it out of some form of “arrogance”.   Like somehow I’m trying to “show off” and as I write that I suddenly remember being accused of being a show off as a kid.   How it seemed that every time I did something and was thrilled about it I was accused of showing off.   Wow.   Big insight.   Wondered why I felt shaky as I started to type and am actually breaking out in a sweat and feel tears wanting to come out.   And maybe explains why I have been feeling a lot of resistance to doing this blog even though I was initially very excited at the prospect.   What a perfect beginning to this article!   Excuse me while I let out some tears. Okay ........ so