The Nose Knows and Love at First Sight

A while ago a friend asked me if I believe in love at first sight. Immediately I said "No". I told him that I believe in lust at first sight. I referred to a magazine article written about "The Science of Love" which pretty much says we are a bunch of animals sniffing each other for reproductive compatibility.

The article detailed how the infatuation stage is made of up of the release and exchange of pheromones between people who are genetically more diverse (which means better babies!). These couples are the most attracted to each other.  People who are too genetically similar (think Deliverance--the far and scariest end of the spectrum) are not as "attracted"--there is a lack of a spark.

I have a super sensitive nose. So I bought into this whole theory. I mean....I have dated the nicest, most amazing men and I know there isn't a future. I swear I can sometimes detect an odor--not even a bad odor--just a smell. It's not breath. It's not a lack of deodorant. It's just a faint scent. But it repels me romantically.

Another article I read said that if the scent reminds of a brother or father--you are genetically similar and not the best fit for procreation. Again, think Deliverance. I've experienced that too and for me, that scent can make or break a romantic relationship. "Hey you....you kinda smell...can we be BFFs?"

And then there have been those few men who could cradle me beneath their arm-pits and I would breathe in like an addict craving opium. In all honesty....these men just happened to be some of the worst dating ideas I have ever had. But wow the scents. And there went the sense.

Now where am I...?  *sigh* Oh yeah....love at first sight.

I never deluded myself into thinking those good-smelling hunks were proof of love at first sight. Quite the opposite. It proved my pheromone theory. We are animals. Romantic love is something spiritual that can't happen instantaneously. It is about intimacy and growth and intellectual connection and emotional compatibility. Love is not a musky armpit.

Then I met someone online. And frankly he wasn't my "type" from pictures and I was slightly iffy as to my interest level based on our texting or e-mails. But the first time I saw him from a distance...the room around me seemed to be moving at a different speed than I. I became nervous and shaky yet comfortable and totally entranced by his every word.

By date two--the words "I love him" were echoing through my head. "WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?" popped into my brain next...thankfully snapping me back to reality to maintain some semblance of dignity. I told myself that I was needy, lonely, tired or crazy. Love at first or maybe second sight is not real. It was a chemical imbalance that kept getting worse until I felt like a basket-case of new feelings and thoughts and ideas...

Sadly, love or not, that particular relationship ended very quickly. I wasn't ready for something serious whether or not I was ready to admit it. And that subconsciously sabotaged the whole thing. Timing can be such a pain....

 

Since then I have thought more about the idea. The moment I saw my children I loved them desperately. It was something more deep and pure than I have known before. That is love at first sight. Yes...those babies were a part of me for nine months but if you understood my difficult pregnancies...you'd know that "baby-in-my-belly connectedness" might not be a good thing in my case. And yes these babies do depend on us to survive...and we have instincts about caretaking...but I also know that there is something magical that happens between a mother and child that is inexplicable.

It is Love at First Sight. So is a first-time romantic, magical, spiritual moment between two people who are destined for love possible?

I don't know.

I think only time will tell what is love and what is not love. The scientist in me looks forward to further down the road when I can look back on that particular relationship and see if I still think I might have experienced love at first sight. I can't pinpoint anything that would have made this interaction different than my other relationships (and there have been plenty)...it was just different.

Interestingly enough--the article I mention before does detail a lengthy study of the brains of couples who were newly in love. Over the course of years they did brain scans of all the couples to compare the brain activity of both partners at the beginning of the relationship and then over time. Sure enough, there was an area of the brain that "lit up" at the beginning of the relationship but that became inactive over time.The partners still "loved" each other but no longer felt the spark and butterflies in the belly consistently...if at all.

However, there were a handful of couples who claimed that the spark had never gone away after years and years and years. Surprisingly, there was something different in their brain scans too. The areas of the brain that were active during the "infatuation" phase were still active. These couples claimed to be as deeply in love and as passionate as in the beginning. There is no scientific explanation.

Is that  evidence of love at first sight? I don't know. And I certainly believe you can love someone gradually which, I have to believe, is just as meaningful.

But looking backward, the romantic in me has begun opening her mind to this love at first sight thing. Maybe it does create a deeper and more passionate connection over time for those select few lucky souls who experience it.

If that is the case...and time will tell...I hope it can happen twice.

Whale or Mermaid? (repost)

This was posted through the Facebook page "Daily Transformations" in 2012. But man, can I relate. This curvy girl sitting down drinking coffee this morning has grown to mostly love and embrace how I look. I could be stronger, healthier, exercise more and quit eating so many chips and queso...but in general...I am who I am at 42 years old and I have more confidence than ever before. That's what I'm trying to teach my child who already has concerns about her body. It kills me to hear it. I'm trying so hard to teach that we all have our own shape and that there is no "wrong" or bad.

She and I are starting a mom/daughter intro to yoga class. And walking together. But I tell her it is for our minds....to stay happy and less anxious. And to become stronger women so we can lift more and feel better. It is hard to teach what we don't believe to our core. But as they say "fake it til you make it". Here is to sending a better message to our daughters....

Daily Transformations with Banya Dutta and 32 others

"I didn't write this but absolutely love what this woman wrote. So well done! Please read; it's quite enjoyable and share.  

A while back, at the entrance of a gym, there was a picture of a very thin and beautiful woman. The caption was "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?"
...
The story goes, a woman (of clothing size unknown) answered the following way:

"Dear people, whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, seals, curious humans), they are sexually active and raise their children with great tenderness.
They entertain like crazy with dolphins and eat lots of prawns. They swim all day and travel to fantastic places like Patagonia, the Barents Sea or the coral reefs of Polynesia.
They sing incredibly well and sometimes even are on cds. They are impressive and dearly loved animals, which everyone defend and admires.

Mermaids do not exist.

But if they existed, they would line up to see a psychologist because of a problem of split personality: woman or fish?
They would have no sex life and could not bear children.
Yes, they would be lovely, but lonely and sad.
And, who wants a girl that smells like fish by his side?

Without a doubt, I'd rather be a whale.

At a time when the media tells us that only thin is beautiful, I prefer to eat ice cream with my kids, to have dinner with my husband, to eat and drink and have fun with my friends.

We women, we gain weight because we accumulate so much wisdom and knowledge that there isn't enough space in our heads, and it spreads all over our bodies.
We are not fat, we are greatly cultivated.
Every time I see my curves in the mirror, I tell myself: "How amazing am I ?! "

 Repost by : ♥♥ FB Page ofwww.glowingembers.org ♥♥See More

 

perfect

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and we were sharingscomplaininglaughing about our up-until-now funny, failed attempts at dating.

She claims that her problem is that she is like a teenager trapped in a woman's body upon meeting a man of interest for the first time. Where all of her teenage insecurities rise to the top and she reverts to a young insecure girl who pushes men away romantically before they push her.

I, on the other hand, am fine with the flirtation dance. I'm good at that piece. My failure is how to function within the relationship once the casual, performing phase is over and sh** gets real. That's when my "pushing" begins.

Laughing about our collective awkwardness we decided that if we could merge our strengths into one woman we would be unstoppable. We'd be close to perfect. We'd conquer the world.

When I was a little girl, a family member pointed out to me that my ears stuck out like Dumbo. I was a pretty little girl...but from that day forward, I never wanted to wear my hair pulled back. I refused to wear pony tails or barrettes in my hair for fear my ears would show.

And then in middle school an older boy pointed out that I had thick ankles. And that my calves were too big. From there-on-out, I was self conscious about wearing shorts or short skirts.

I had a great singing voice and had dreams of becoming famous...singing on Broadway, recording an album...but I literally told myself that I couldn't really be a singer or be famous because physically I wasn't perfect. And how could I go to Hollywood and not wear my hair pulled back or show my legs? Because once people saw that "flawed" part of me...that would outshine all of my talents...they would stare at my ears, my legs and all of that admiration would dissipate.

I think most women do this to themselves. We think "if only I had this", "if only I did this", "if only I looked like this"...my life would be so much better. I know women who isolate from the world--who are unhappy with how they look...or their careers...or their relationships. And they are waiting to come out of their cocoons until they get to a point where they are closer to their visions of perfect. They are afraid of being seen. Of rejection. Afraid of life being less than what they want...because they are telling themselves that "they" are less than ok. Being afraid of a lesser life becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"You are too sensitive Beth"...is the critical statement echoing in my head right now. A voice tells me that if only my skin were a little thicker that I would be a better mother, a better friend, a better partner/lover/girlfriend/wife. I've thought if I could somehow get a hold of this trait and squish it into a new and improved shape that my life would be different, be better.

I've been writing about this trait a lot. It's the pendulum swing. I've gone from hiding it to screaming it. I look forward to when the pendulum simply centers on acceptance.

So who is the "perfect" woman? Couldn't "I" be the perfect woman? What if everyone in the world was as sensitive as me? Maybe we would be kinder to each other... Appreciate the sound of the ocean more... Create more art...

But that would be saying that there was something wrong with people who are different, who are more analytical, more cognitive. So creating a new version of "perfect" is simply the mirror image of the same problem.

Everyone talks about the issue of women striving to live up to false ideals. The true irony of it is that we now all feel flawed because we are worried about striving toward "perfect". So we are hard on ourselves for being hard on ourselves. It's a never ending plummet down the rabbit hole. It's the image of a mirror facing a mirror and on and on.

So back to my friend and I discussing how we would be the perfect woman. If we could merge into each other we would have perfect legs and nice curves. We could walk up to a man and charm the heck out of him. Enter into a relationship where we can talk art and sports. And cry appropriately. And be patient. And fun. And live happily ever after.

But when I think about the most beautiful parts of life...they are often imperfect...

my 2-year daughter saying "what dat noise was"?
the scar on my lover's lip
an ocean after a storm
family laughing about an inedible dinner
a singer's voice whispering, cracking with emotion
oyster shells
stretch marks
watercolors
fall leaves
an elderly couple holding hands
crackle glass

So I think we all know that there is no perfect. And that we shouldn't strive for something we can't attain. We know there are false ideals that exist. And that we beat ourselves up for not being better.

We "know" all this. But we don't feel all this. I think we just have to be more aware of what we think. And say. And do. And not do. Because it does become a self-fulfilling prophecy when we assume by "being" that we will create a less-than-perfect life. We miss out on all the beauty of the imperfections by closing our eyes out of fear.

Over and over I've read the phrase "perfectly imperfect". I think I prefer "imperfectly perfect".

Happy Birthday Joshua

When Joshua was three years old he placed his forehead against mine and whispered "I will always protect you from the monsters". No truer words have been said.

 

My son is courageous and strong.

 

He feels deeply and loves hard. He has a fiery temper but apologizes after the blaze.

 

Joshua loves hip hop dancing and he head-spins like a pro.

 

He still wants to cuddle with his mom and dad. But is fiercely independent and hates the word "no".

 

Josh likes pizza for breakfast and chamomile tea at night. He proudly sports a Mohawk. But secretly watches Disney movies about princes falling in love.

 

Everyday my son protects me from the monsters of idleness, impatience, selfishness, stagnation, fear and isolation. He helps me be a better person.

 

Joshua and his sister are the reasons I am here and my biggest dream is for them to happy.

 

Josh is seven today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY my precious son!

 

 

Feeding the Crow

Feeding the Crow

Blue-black wings
shiny onyx
close enough
I see her eyes
peering at me sideways
knowing
the question between us.

Outstretched palm

facing the sky
toward her, I answer
with my bread;
“take this” and eat.

Expecting gratitude,
communion
I catch her gaze
knowing her.

And then she knows.

Falls back, lifting
coal wings skyward

in difference.


--Beth Northup

Tear

I admit...I cried two times this week. And I have been thinking about it quite a bit. I haven't been thinking about the reason for the tears....but instead why crying is something about which I'm pondering.

When I was a little girl, I would watch myself cry. If I was sad enough I would sit in front of a mirror and study myself, which, strangely enough, brought me peace. Sometimes I would think of sad things just to see myself cry. I thought tears were pretty...like rain on a window. like rain on my cheek.

I've caught my son doing the same thing actually. I wonder why he is doing it...why I did it. To see what sadness or anger look like? To validate grief or hurt or anger? I remember thinking that I looked pretty crying--a strange thought for a shy little girl who was unsure of herself. Perhaps kids inherently know that tears are good. Healing. But somehow as I grew up my beliefs changed.

I'll give you something to cry about
big boys don't cry
you're faking it
cheer up
don't manipulate
suck it up
have a tissue

In other words, "Don't cry". It's no wonder we hold back our tears.

I find it interesting that "tear" not only means the "watery fluid that comes from the eyes when feeling emotion"  but also "to pull apart and leave ragged edges or rip into pieces". I think there are so many negative messages--overt and subliminal--about tears that we become afraid to cry for fear we will rip apart or fall into pieces.

I was in a play once where my character burst into tears. When practicing that scene, I immediately cupped my face in my hands. The director said "Beth, we need to see your face. We need to see that she is crying". At first it was really hard to do--I was incredibly self-conscious. But eventually I was openly sobbing onstage with snot pouring out of my nose.  It was empowering. A woman came up to me after the show and told me that she cried for the first time seeing a play. I'm not sure my performance was that stellar but I think somehow seeing me cry gave her permission to do the same. It was a powerful moment for me. It was a step in the right direction.

And then there was the time I was sitting in a counseling office during my divorce trying not to cry. My counselor sat beside me and told me to touch my tears and look at them and see how beautiful they were. Frankly it was a completely awkward moment and there was no way I was going to stare at my tears and revel in their beauty. But when I do begin to cry these days, I do hear her whisper in my ear. And it comforts me.

So I have cried twice over the past week. I am hormonal. And I'm dealing with the life stressors of being a single mom and running a business and household.

And I am also dating. Which is terrifying. I'm good at a lot of things. But I cannot claim that dating is a strength of mine. So something happened this week which was a complete misunderstanding. I began to cry on the phone to this new guy. Sadly enough I feel shame even typing this. But acceptance is half the battle right?

I'm summarizing this story but he was really kind about it. He said he wanted to hear me cry. That it would help him know me. And that it was real and what he wants in a relationship--genuineness and honesty. Whether or not this relationship materializes into anything is still unknown. But it reinforces that I want to be with someone who is ok with my tears. That quality has made it onto my "must-have" list.

There are so many articles about the benefits of crying--that it releases endorphins, reduces stress, etc. But I think on a deeper level, and most importantly, it is about expressing who we are.

I want to be ok with my tears. 2014 is all about speaking my truth even when it hurts.

Even when it makes me cry.

RIP, Billboards and Curly Hair.

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”--Nelson Mandela

A piece of my past life that I will always miss is the up-close diversity of my ex-husband's family. David had 2 siblings who were adopted. My brother and sister in law were black. I had this dream that my children would grow up unaware of any difference beyond what makes us all diverse and human.

Sometimes I joke and say "I must have been a black lesbian in a past life" because the issue of discrimination is such a hot button issue for me. There is nothing that makes me more angry than the injustice of people judged by color or sexual identity. I poke fun at myself about the depth of anger I feel about this issue because it really runs deep....more deeply than my personal life or experience could provide adequate context.

I took a personality test once during some career counseling--Myers Briggs--which indicated I was an ENFP. Apparently this personality type has a real issue with perceived injustice because of a strong values system. I can see this about me. I cry over things that are wrong. Over people that are hurt. Injustice makes me want to scream.

An example of my deep-felt sense of "fair" is my feeling about a really popular church in town. I have many friends who attend this church and love it. The speaking is good, the music is amazing. The church does do terrific things in the community. I know they give back through service and donations in massive ways. I, however, have sad feelings about it because of a perceived injustice toward others. It is not so much anger...but truly hurt.

When I moved back to Louisville having just left an advertising career, I was familiar with the cost of different media buys. Soon after I became a resident and got my voter ID, there was a billboard campaign that was funded by the church regarding the "Marriage Amendment". "One Man + One Woman=Marriage" on billboards throughout Louisville. I knew how expensive this billboard campaign was. These Billboards were on major, well-traveled thoroughfares throughout the city. I'd say it was over a six-figure investment.

There are over 13,000 homeless children in public schools. And a church was spending money on a political campaign to prevent two loving people from committing to each other for life? I just couldn't get over it. I knew too much. It was money that could have fed children. I think a modern-day Jesus would have spray painted the billboards to make a point. The road to hell is paved with "good intentions". To this day I just think it was wrong to promote something that points to the differences of others as bad. I think that is discrimination.

All of that said, I feel passionately about equality for all. People should just love each other. We should love ourselves so that we don't project our own self hatred on the people around us in the form of racism or homophobia. If we truly love ourselves, we don't care what other people look like or what they are doing. I am not a psychologist so I can't explain the "whys" about it...but have you noticed that the most confident, peaceful people project love onto most everyone? It just seems whatever you use to fill up your cup--love or hate--that is the overflow that spills out onto others.

I believe it all begins with our kids. I have had very lengthy conversations with my daughter about what I think is right or wrong. And one time she said to me "Mom, why would anyone care who someone else loves. God is love. He wants us to love." And her feelings on love go beyond sexual orientation. She thinks racism is evil. And that evil is cruelty to women. And children. And animals. And the environment.

The first person to visit my daughter after she was born was my brother in law, Joshua. She was born at 4:39 am and he was holding her at 7:30 am. He loved his tow-headed niece so much and had her picture on his desk at Humana where he worked. Joshua died suddenly at age 30 of a heart condition. Meaghan was almost 3. A few months after he passed away, Meaghan was standing in her crib pulling on her hair.

Meaghan: "Mommy, I have curly hair right?"
Me: "Yes, you do"
Meaghan: "I have curly hair just like my Uncle Josh"
Me: "Yes, you have your uncle Josh's curly hair"

Children see the similarities. Not the differences. Just like Nelson Mandela said "love comes naturally"....but we have to nurture this and teach love.

This is my post to honor Nelson Mandela. It may be a bit scattered but ultimately I just hope to see more love in the world and I appreciate his example.  RIP Nelson Mandela. Thank you for what you gave us.