Rivers and Mountains or Why I Love My Husband

by Ashley Folsom on September 8, 2015

We float down the river, his inner tube tied to our younger daughter, our older bravely floating alone far ahead. In conversation he mentions he has never done this before. He reminds me that once, so long ago, on our first outing as a couple we were supposed to go tubing. But the previous day’s massive rain and the dangers there-in had turned a planned leisurely day on the river into a hike up Humpback Rock. And ironically that arduous event was precisely when I fell deeply in love and knew I’d found the man I wanted to marry.

I flashed back to that day almost exactly 15 years earlier. I wasn’t in horrid shape, but the combination of drinking, a late night and allergies took its toll. Out of the four couples in our group, I was certain I was fit enough not to trail at the very end. I overestimated my ability by a long shot. Seth, however, in perfect Marine shape could have carried me to the top and back again without the slightest bit of effort.

Beside him, I was slow and weary, ready to be ashamed.

But he gently guided me, and supported me, and totally allowed me to do it my own way. He took off one of two shirts and wiped the sweat off my face, with no judgment whatsoever. He encouraged me every step of the way with words and smiles and laughter, but never swooped in to do it for me.  There was not one moment of irritation, impatience or anger.  And once we finally got to the top, he seemed to revel in my accomplishment. We shared in the magnificent view, a quiet moment of stillpoint, holding hands in silence.

As we took the trail back down, I realized that this was what I had always wanted in a partner. A man, deeply comfortable with himself, who knew his own strength so well that he had no need to demonstrate it to others. Someone who would support me completely in being my own quirky, stubborn self, yet never lose himself in the process. A person of kindness and humor and deep compassion. By the time we drove home I was head over heels in love with the essence of my beloved. I knew in my heart that, even if things did not work out between the two of us, I was a better person for having experienced him.

Oh how funny life can be, I floated along thinking. The river carries us downstream, and we are far smarter to work with the currents than against them, trusting that they take us where we are meant to go. So many years I’d been sad over one boy or another not returning affection.  Lamenting in my 20’s that I hadn’t found the right man, assuming I actually knew what “right” looked like. And yet here I am in my 40’s with my perfect spouse in a package I honestly would have never imagined.

I’ve always felt that Seth and I have an undercurrent, a river deep below the surface that supports us fully as a couple. A river of love and trust and promise.

How lovely that our river took us to the mountain that day! Had we floated instead, would the inner workings of this dear human have been as evident? Would I have had the fodder to commit to our long-distance relationship so quickly? Could I have so clearly recognized my deep yearning for this complimentary Spirit who fits me so perfectly in every way? But we did, and I did.  And we have weathered oh so much more since that first adventure.

As I watch my Dearest laughing with my daughter, on a sunny day under the vast Montana skies, I am reminded again that all is always as it should be. The ripples are always perfectly perfect.  I have great reason to trust…and to love.

 

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Optimistic Illusion: What You Want to See is What You Get

by Ashley Folsom on February 27, 2015

Timing is often comical to me. I had written a lovely piece about personal perception. Then out of nowhere: THE DRESS. If you are reading this 15 minutes after I post it, this social media phenomenon will probably be history, so let me remind you.

There is a dress. It’s posted to the internet and suddenly no one has a clue what color it is. Well, actually most people are dead certain what color it is. One side screams gold and white. The other side screams black and blue. And, oddly, both are right…though not exactly. The actual dress, when seen in person, is said to be black lace and blue satin. But in the picture more than half the population sees it as gold/white (or brown/lilac, or anything except black/blue).

And for these folks, they are REALLY, DEEPLY experiencing the dress in these alternative colors.

Families are arguing on couches all over the world as I write. Why has this taken up so much of our collective time in the last 24 hours? Because people want to stand on their perception as truth.

I’m not headed down that rabbit hole at the moment (though Holy Mackerel what a metaphor for our divisive society). Instead I’m returning to my regularly scheduled post. They will link in a minute.

Last week my precocious 7-year old began drawing a spiral, turned to her older sister and announced “I’m making an Optimistic Illusion!” Of course, she meant optical…and she was rather crushed when she discovered she had used the wrong word.

But the idea of an Optimistic Illusion simply delights me.

Why? Because unlike many of my cohorts currently screaming on social media about THE DRESS, I am fully aware that whatever I want to be true is what I will perceive. I’m not looking for the truth…I’m creating my own. And my truth is pretty doggone Optimistic.

I choose how I tell my story. More snow can be yet another forced holiday with my kids…or an unexpected reason to bake cookies. A missed plane can mean I didn’t get to a meeting…or that I had a chance to meet someone I wouldn’t have otherwise. My husband’s last minute business trip can mean more on my plate for the evening…or a chance to take the kids out and not do dishes. If I’m looking for the brighter side, that’s what I’m likely to find. I can choose to believe the Divine (in whatever form) is working with my best interest at heart, or I can choose to believe I have to beat the system, work harder to make it happen, overcome a multitude of obstacles. In the end, I get to choose. So in a way, all of it is merely a perception I have created.

And the best part: no one can tell me I’m wrong.

It’s my perspective. My viewpoint. Me, who gets to experience life as I want to experience it. Why would I choose anything but an Optimistic Illusion?

So this brings me around again to the silly lace dress. In the end, the dress is black and blue. And I tell you what, I would have bet a month’s pay that it was gold and white. I actually found the dress pretty in those luminescent colors. I didn’t want the dress to be dark…in that basic black that everyone always wears to formal events. I liked the lightness, the shine. After more scrutiny than I care to admit, I’m able to perceive the dress in its actual coloring. And it’s nice enough as black and blue. But I prefer the other, and obviously my eyes prefer to SEE the other. Because when I look back at it, it’s always changed to the gold and white. This truly is an optical illusion.

And as with all optical illusion where you can choose to see an old lady or a young maiden, a goblet or two faces, the static or the moving, neither one is right or wrong. They just are. Both exist; you get to choose what you perceive.

Why not focus on the one you prefer?

So next time you have the opportunity to tell the story of your day to yourself, be it one of the past or the day coming up, choose what you wish to see. Realize that what you want to see is what you get. It’s all an illusion, and you get to decide which part your eyes will focus on…and what colors you want to invite to shine through.

If you really want to know the story behind the dress:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/02/27/the-inside-story-of-the-white-dress-blue-dress-drama-that-divided-a-nation/

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It’s Not Kind to Be Nice

September 3, 2014

I’m not teaching my daughters to be nice.  Nope!  In fact, they are not allowed to use the word “nice” at our house.  When one accidentally says it, she throws her hand over her mouth as if she’s said the “s” word (which she thinks is “shut-up,” but I digress).  Immediately the offending daughter will […]

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45 Years on this Earth

March 10, 2014

Today is my 45th birthday.  Feels rather like I am squarely in the middle of my one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver would say.  I have clear visuals of both ends of the spectrum. Last month my grandfather turned 90, and this week I cuddled the sweetest smelling 3-month-old little girl you can […]

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Uncharted Territory

September 11, 2013

On this anniversary of the September 11 attacks, I find myself in uncharted territory. Usually this date sets me on edge.  Many living here in the DC area are understandably on high alert, silently wondering if this will be the year something dreadful happens again. Flags at half-mast fly in every direction.  Traffic is re-routed.  […]

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Bridging the Divide: Connecting with Military Families

March 19, 2013

10 years ago I sat alone on my couch with a horrid sense of dread, staring at the blasts of “Shock and Awe” as the United States led the invasion into Iraq.  I had not spoken with my husband in almost two months.  His letters, written hastily on recycled rations boxes, were worn from my […]

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A Celebration 10 Years in the Making

September 8, 2011

Ten years ago today I was sitting in a limousine in a sparkling white dress eating red Twizzlers, legs bouncing nervously.  I was not wondering if the man I was about to marry was the right one for me.  That was a given.  But I was completely freaked out at the idea of being someone’s […]

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Trusting Love

August 16, 2011

It always amazes me how much better I feel after hearing my husband’s voice.  Until recently this was something I was a bit ashamed of.  After all, I am a self-sufficient woman who did not marry until age 32.  Before that I lived alone, travelled the world, owned my own home, thrived professionally.  Heck, I […]

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The Wall of Sadness

August 2, 2011

I should have known it was coming. It truly was only a matter of time. I finally hit the wall. That’s what usually happens when you run fast enough from something and keep looking behind you to make sure it hasn’t gotten you yet. All was fine…not great, but fine. We were moved to the […]

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Going Home, But Not Again – Part 1

July 26, 2011

This month I had two experiences with “going home”.  One was coming home to Tennessee, to the house my parents have been in for 25 years.   These trips home used to be stressful.  It is challenging to be a grown up in the environment in which you once were a child.  You might find yourself […]

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