Relationships

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Sometimes the song is not a melody

Hey friend,

There was a woodpecker dangling from the new feeder the other day. A small one with beautiful black and white markings. I wonder now if the tiny feather I found outside my door was a woodpecker feather…huh. Anyway, I love the mixture of birds that have been coming to the new feeder. We hung one of those simple ring suet feeders in the trees outside our front door. You can just see it from the kitchen window above the sink. It is also quite nice to venture out onto the front porch and watch all the different friends zoom in and out testing out the taste of the day.

We picked out a selection of rings; fruity nut ones, nuts and seeds, and one even had meal worms in it. Fancy! I haven’t done a data spreadsheet as to which ring brought which birds and how many…it’s summer, I’m vibing. However, this little woodpecker came to the feeder with all the other friends. Instead of hanging on the tree, or waiting until he could have the ring to himself…he was zooming in and out grabbing snacks.

Woodpeckers are amazing. Stomping through heavy bark looking for food with the beaks. Their heads are build in a way that prevents them from flying away from a tree like they were just holding a jackhammer. It’s amazing their brains are not pudding or meringue. They have incredible fortitude those little ones. I also love that from what I can tell, their drum beat is their call. I love going about my day and hearing the rhythms of a woodpecker stop me in my tracks to invite me to go deeper into my internal rhythm. Am I jamming with my beat, am I on flow? They will provide something so primal and soothing till you find yours. That is an amazing thought, not every bird’s song is a melody. Guess I hadn’t thought about it before.

I hope this message finds you well and brings you joy. And most of all, let’s be in rhythm with the woodpecker’s protection and make good choices – or as best we can. Keep listening to your heart and creating your contribution to this big ring of an orchestra, my friend.

In Joy.

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Pick Peaches to Heal

We went picking to heal our hearts and it helped. Yesterday, we found our cat. She had been missing for one day and we knew something was wrong. My husband found her on the side of the road on his way to work. She most likely had been struck by a car and killed. She was only two years old. It was a tough day. I told the kids and cried a lot. I kept reminding them that it was okay to cry and to let out all their feelings. I knew we needed to move and do something though. I decided that peach/pear picking was a good heart healing activity. Something we could do that would make us feel good and not guilty for having too much fun too soon. It was the perfect thing to do. The fresh air, the movement, the smells and colors all made us feel more alive and connected to each other and to love.
This is the first pet my children have lost to death other than snails and fish from their tank. We knew this day would come and knew it would be difficult. I am grateful that they do not have to go to school today and we still have a few days left of summer holiday to peacefully transition through this new experience. I am wondering what their grief will look like today and I am hopeful that we can talk through this together. It has been important for the kids to see us cry and discuss our feelings. It has been crucial for them to hear us ask for alone time. These are all things we want to teach them. -That not only are they entitled to but they can find healthy ways of communicating their needs to others. There is no imposition, obligation, or burden. We are also trying to note that we all feel different things at different times.
Being a parent is difficult. Being a parent who wants to provide and nurture a balanced healthy emotionally intelligent household is a gauntlet. I am doing my best to go forward on this arduous journey. Walking a family through grief with grace while grieving yourself feels like an impossible task at times. However, I remind myself that we will all be the better for it. Today we can allow our selves to be a little busier and more productive towards school and cleaning. I won’t stress the resistance as much as I might have on a different day. One step at a time we will get there. I will remember that the sadness can make us sluggish. But I will also remember to tell them that we can feel sadness and not be sadness.

-August 2022

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A moment for the birds

This morning the birds are poking around in the dirt looking for seeds. Fear not little ones as the Spring is here and the earth is loosening and exposing all sorts of new delights for you. So many new friends have come to explore the woodpile outside my window. Why even yesterday we had a few new ducks that came to the river’s edge right outside out path. So many ducks usually gather a bit further upriver. But this crew came and jostled about for hours. I am grateful.

There are times when I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel a little bubble of anxiousness or frustration or sometimes a drifty feeling in which I know I will lose myself for moments only to snap out and be anxious or frustrated that I was lost. This morning as I started to feel that feeling that bubble begin to form I went to my writing desk and sat and looked out the window. I ignored a to do list. I ignored the computer. I ignored my journals and papers. I simply looked out the window and watched the birds and squirrels.

Their resourcefulness is remarkable. Their agility, playfulness, and productivity. I gave myself ten minutes of simple observation. A little brown bird plunked his beak into a pile of leaves and spun around. This little dance caused its tail feathers to flick more leaves up and swirling revealing all sorts of surprises for everyone. As I giggled watching it a few more times my eyes drifted up to a little chickadee spinning around on a wire suet feeder. It pecked about and then flittered up to a tree. It was at that instance that I followed it to it’s resting point and noticed. I noticed the tree it landed on has started to bloom. How is it that… I could have sworn just moments before… the tree was dull wintery brown with persistent ivy clambering up its bark. Yet now, the tree is brighter and almost shining in the sun as it shows off the delicate beginnings of its precious pink blossoms cascading and swaying in the breeze. How promising and joyful. And now as I look around everything seems just a bit brighter and twinkly.

When it is time to move on and focus my attention onto the tasks ahead, I have more energy and sparkle. Taking a moment to be with nature and be with myself is always healing.

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Unlocking our Connection

I recently finished reading Eight Keys by Suzanne LaFleur. It was recommended to me by my daughter. She is ten. Usually I am doing the recommending. Usually I am gifting books or strategically placing them in her path so we can share in some of my favorite stories. This was one of those not as frequent moments where she read a book and tossed in my lap and said, “read this.”

Now I don’t like following the commands of my ten year old. However, when it comes to connecting over books or stories she has written, I am all in.

Eight Keys hit me hard from the first chapter. It felt familiar and lovely while also gritty and uncomfortable. All those complex things that start to happen when you are crossing over from simply being a kid to adolescence. It’s a tough time in all of our lives. It is a tough time especially for kids who want to hold onto their imaginations and play with the world while it seems like everyone else is trying to fit into a page of a magazine. This book explores layers of friendship as they evolve. I was delighted at the self examination the main character goes through and begins to think about her role in her relationships. This is not an easy thing to unpack with my kiddo without some tension. This gave us a key to unlock some of what might be happening for her and her friends.

Eight Keys is tender and has characters that are independent, thoughtful, and complex without being too mature or relying or sexual tension to drive the story. The characters felt real and their struggles felt authentic. It touched on loss, trauma, fear, relationships, identity and empowerment. I am grateful for my daughter’s suggestion. I am even more grateful for the chats we have had about the story. I love that she has a friend who “must read this” so they can talk about it. I am thinking about getting some copies to leave out for my students to find and pass on. -Just like the keys…

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Sass Factory

My daughter has taken to rolling her eyes at us. It was something she did only every once in a while when she was really upset but now, now it is like breathing. It is almost as if everything I say is triggering a conveyer belt of ocular motion. She is ten. Almost eleven. It makes for some difficult mindful communication practice. I want to fall into some defaults of my childhood; scream, threaten, ignite, ignore with disdain or get snarky. This morning, I am breathing in the scent of my tea and imagining a cartoon conveyer belt of eyeballs rolling and replacing the old ones. It helps me stay calm and joyful through her moment of disgust with me.

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Talking about Tuck

This summer I read Tuck Everlasting by Katherine Babbitt. I have read it many times before. However, this summer I suggested it to my daughter. Sometimes when I suggest a book, she is reluctant and resistant to read it. I don’t know why. It is silly of her really because EVERYTIME I suggest something that she reads, she finishes it saying, “OMG that book was amazing.” Every. Time. Tuck Everlasting was no exception. I suggested it. She said Meh. I got it out of the library. She ignored it. I brought it on vacation with us. She turned her nose up at it. So I started re reading it. In the evening I took the book from her bedside to mine and read. When I was a few chapters in she could hold out no longer. She casually borrowed it and began ‘looking at it’. Before I knew it she was walking out of my room into hers still reading. She didn’t stop until she was done. When she finished, she ran to find me to tell me “OMG that book was amazing.”

We spent some time this summer off and on referencing and talking about the story. And then I surprised her and got the DVD out of our local library. I generally am a read the book first kind of person. If possible. She was so excited. We sat and watched it. We got to have in depth conversations about director’s choice in editing the storyline and casting and locations. But most of all I love the fact that we got to have all over again the talk. The Tuck Everlasting question of would you drink the water and why? Listening to her unfold the reasoning and layer it with her new connections to these characters and their acting choices, nuances was magic. We spoke about what being together forever might mean for us or what being alone forever might mean for one. We will continue to explore what we old dear in relationships with nature and humans. I am so grateful for this. I can’t wait to read it with her again when her brother is old enough to read it to himself. And so on.

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listening to water

today i am listening to water
today i am listening to water and i am thirsty for answers
i am still and quiet
i am allowing the rhythm and the flow

to enter my breath and awaiting transformation and direction
nothing is happening

no answers are here
more questions have arisen
i am more unsure of what is next

and yet more confident that this is the way to figure it all out

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Savor the Day (excerpt)

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When working with children or even ourselves towards a behavioral change goal, it can be difficult to see the success. In setting a goal or an objective, one might make clear images as to how that NEEDS to look in order to be stamped as successful. However, I am learning and embracing the idea that success does not always match my preconceived notions nor does it always just “click” into place. There are steps and stages that link me to the celebratory objective fulfilled moment I am searching for.

I am training myself to celebrate and honor the small shifts. I believe that these small steps are the beginnings of the monumental change and cannot become such a wondrous thing unless we honor and motivate them.

There is so much I want to do to make my world a better place. There are so many mountains to climb and conquer. I am through thinking that focusing so intently on the big picture will get me there. I am taking much needed time to start small. Moment to moment I am thinking about what I can do to help create the things I desire. Most of the time, this is about carving out time to meditate and be good to myself. Enjoy my cup of tea. I have learned that if I simply sit and love that cup of tea, it creates a fluid sense of love and warmth coursing through my body. Now when I get up to help the kids or take on my next task I move with love and appreciation instead of rushed anxiety or emptiness.

I am practicing being with myself and savoring experiences. This is allowing me to make choices to shift and move towards something new with joy and motivation verses feeling forced to change myself and my habits. Savor the day moment to moment and move with it.

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Begin Again

There is a voice inside me. It varies in volume but is ever constant. This voice is reminding me that I am on a journey. I am not done. I am not only who I was, but so much more I have forgotten and not yet discovered. 

Begin Again.

This is something I hear from deep within my body. my heart, my mind, my soul. When I hear these words I can become so powerful if I give myself the moment to say them out loud to myself. Honor these words and magic happens.

Begin Again. 

I drop the heavy load of guilt, shame, and judgement. I release the joy and pleasure into the universe. I make a contract with myself that there is no one beginning and no single end. 

Begin Again. 

I am vulnerable and meek. I am quiet and cautious. I am observing the world and all its power. I am taking notes. I  study the grace and strength of all around me. I take a pause with rage and anger. I am gentle and loving. I am pensive and full. 

Begin Again.

I am vibrating and steaming and boiling to the top. I can hear nothing but the sound of my own emotions. I spin with the force of generations of earth, wind, and fire. I am infinite in my powerful rage and fervor. I shake the core of my own existence with an outward tsunami of love and raw emotion. I am unstoppable until I am done and empty.

Begin Again. 

this voice can purify me. It can subdue me. It has the ability to motivate me to move mountains. If I listen and repeat, anything is possible. It is all inside waiting for me to breathe and release the transformative power. It is in me. I breathe. I believe. 

Begin Again. 

 

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in first

Everyday we start again. Today I am starting with kindness inward then out. I am allowing the mistakes of yesterday to wash away with the smiles of today. I am forgiving myself for my fears, doubts, and anger. I am taking a breath of kindness inward. I know that then I will be full of the love I would like to give.

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Turning it

A year of motivation and power – a year of DO it.

My mind was focusing on this over the weekend. And somehow in the marination and meditation of the Monday morning chill, these thoughts have shifted.

I am still feeling motivated and powerful. Maybe I am feeling more of this. Now I am breathing in and getting my thoughts, breath, and heart in sync so I can turn this impulsive fervor into calculated action. Decisions can be made in a breath without derailment or hesitation. That is the goal.

I am like the little man spinning straw to gold with each turn of the wheel.

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Honor

My new routine involves me creeping out of the house in darkness. I attempt to move as swiftly and silently as possible so not to wake everyone sleeping. I ascend the steps to my car in darkness with some moonlight and the sound of the River singing the day arise. I drive to work in contemplative thought and discussion. Once at work, I go to my room and sit in darkness. Sometimes with some oil diffusing and sometimes with some music. I sit and drop into my willingness to be with the day in the best possible way. I practice yoga until it feels complete. Then, I sit again with the newness of myself.

And now I have added to this routine. I write.

I firmly believe this is more ritual than routine. I am connected.

Today my heart, body, and mind converged on a concept of Honor. Today I am charged with honoring the love. I am discovering that I want to be thankful for the love I have received in all forms at all times of my life. I want to honor the love I have given. In reflection of this I feel my breath deepen and know that this giving and receiving of love is breath. It is as essential and simple as breathing.

I am so grateful for those that have loved me throughout my journey. I am so grateful for the immense displays of conventional love as well as the man that stood in the rain and held the door for me this morning. The security guard that hollered “watch your step the floor is wet!”. I am grateful for such love. The love that came from the sleeping student in my class yesterday. I am thankful that he felt safe and comfortable enough to surrender to his needed rest. I am thankful for the kisses from my children as they recharge my soul and send me flung into the universe on a comet of love.

I am honoring myself for the love I have given. For the letters written, the drawings, paintings, and things made with love. The food I have prepared for others and myself. The presents, hugs given, and kisses shared. I honor the love I showed myself when I have stumbled out of despair to rise one more day no knowing why until now. The love that was bound in countless Yes’s and a few No’s. I am capable of such wondrous love and see now the intense beauty it has and the path it will take, the spiral and link to the love I have received and will continue to receive as long as I breathe or have someone’s thoughts breathed about me.

A dear friend said this morning that he is trying to live in the honor of someone whom he loved that recently passed. I think that is possibly one of the greatest things we all can do.

Live in honor of Love.

Give and Receive

Breathe

Love

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A garden wall

It is a bustling day back to work and the air is crisp, biting, and awaiting direction from the wind. I am very aware that today is important. Always when I return back to my routine after I have spent time focused on prayer and meditation, those initials steps back into the regular rhythm of life are important. Especially if i have had time away from work, a holiday. Today I came to work early and filled all my water jugs to feed my plants and make tea. I sat in mediation, did yoga and sat again. I prayed for strength to stay focused on health and selfcare. I prayed for guidance in helping others and myself. I prayed for the understanding of boundaries and how to uphold them especially today. I knew I could easily take on more than needed.

I had a vision of a beautiful garden growing up around me creating a breathable, moveable, and glorious protective shield all around me. My garden wall shall wrap me and help me stay on my personal journey. The leaves and fresh blossoms wil caress me and adorne me. The wines will strengthen my limbs and help me to spread without breaking myself into pieces. I will walk through my day with my garden as my shield and inspiration.

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Approaching the New Year

The Post Christmas Pre New year window has always been a stressful time for me. I noticed an increase in relief when I let go of making plans for New Year Eve’s festivities. The year I decided that I didn’t need to be somewhere special or with someone special in order to conjure up good things to come was the year that I began to find some peace with this emotionally charged time of the year.

This year I was hoping to relax and disconnect from everything that is swirling in my mind a million miles an hour. That however is not in the Universe’s plan. I was silly to think that disconnection would ever be in the Universe’s Plan for me. Christmas Day brought me what felt like endless waves of emotional discomfort, being rushed, ignored, and angry. I tried to articulate my feelings, send up the flares that I was in need of some help to process. Looking back I realize my mistake was in looking to someone else to help me through instead of spending the time to look within and find my answers and strength.

Christmas night I walked alone. I walked and walked. I sat and watched the water and the moon. I listened. I sat still and listened to my heart. I am taking time now to seek comfort within myself. I am taking time to allow myself to work through what is unfolding. This process may seem trivial to others. I am on a journey. I know this.  I have spent a lot of time recently trying to build a communities,  teams of emotional support and guidance. I have poured myself into relationships and I am feeling alone and exhausted from the efforts. I am looking around and realizing that I am going to redirect my energy into my own body and mind and build that community.

I am engaging in my morning ritual of meditation, yoga, and prayer. I was wavering on this practice, but now I feel peaceful and committed to my practice. Two days ago I went outside and practiced in the rain. As it misted over my skin and I stood in warrior, I felt a voice call out “Power and Motivation.” It became a mantra through every asana and breath. Power and Motivation will thrust me into the day and guide me. The next morning I sat and sank into Dirgha breath as the wind blew the large leaves around me. It whispered “Open and be Willing.” I unfolded and allowed my self to float in love with what was and what is to come.  This morning I sat. I breathed. I moved when an impulse took me. I allowed my body to go wherever it was driven. I felt nothing. I breathed and allowed my impulse to move me. I did this not planning out my sequence or even opening my eyes. I dropped into someplace of purity between breaths, a place of prayer. And then it came, the voice inside asked me to purge. To let go. I felt another whisper reminding me not control what that means but allow. I took a deep breath and agreed to let go today. Then my body said step forward, step out of that puddle and into New.

I am listening. I am creating. I am breathing. I am letting go.

Stepping out of the puddle into New.

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Friday Surprise

I am not even sure exactly how I feel about this yet…I am putting this down in a post so I make sure to come back to this and remember this moment. I work in a Title I inner city school and wore this shirt to work. I have worn it before. However, today, a colleague told me to go home and change my shirt. They said it “should say all lives matter in schools.” I was surprised given the location and situation that we are in everyday, that someone I work with would even question or pause on this movement. At first I thought they were trying to joke with me. I let the comment hang out there and let them see that I believe in this movement. This is not a message of Black Lives Matter more than anyone else…but they matter just as much as everyone else and you CANNOT work where I work and possibly think that things are equal. I know I have much more to say on this but need to get back to work. Wow. (not to mention the ONLY person who can tell me to go home and change my shirt is…ME.)IMG_7856

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Town Pool

July 2017!

A couple of days ago, we had a wonderful day spent at the Town Pool near my mother’s house. We are visiting for a a couple of weeks and sometimes we trek over to the town pool rather than spend the whole day at home in my mom’s pool. The town pool has diving boards, a sprinkler park, and water slides. It is a really nice facility and the population who uses it is diverse. It has a very laid back atmosphere while still upholding top notch safety regulations.

While we were there, a little girl was wading in the water near us. My mother and I were in the kiddie section with my little guy watching my daughter go down the water slides. This little girl was bobbing around and hanging on the ropes looking a little lost or bored. Eventually she spoke to my mother and told her that she didn’t really know how to swim. My mom had a lovely chat and while I was helping my 2 year old float and kick, my mom convinced this girl to paddle around and gain a wee bit of confidence. It was enough to ignite some life into her smile and also glue her to our family for the day. Shortly after this, it seemed every where we turned, there she was. My daughter played with her and swam, but this little girl really didn’t know how to do much but float and dunk her head under water. They had a hard time choosing what to do because my daughter, although a year younger than this girl, is a strong swimmer. The girl’s mother came over at one point wading through the water only to inform the girl that she was going to go over to the deep pools with a friend and she should just have my mom and I look after her. I was stunned. The woman made no attempt to even introduce herself to us or even speak to us, but hooked her daughter to us.

We did look after her. We included her into our conversations and played in the water. However, when it was time to get out to have lunch, I felt torn. I wanted to invite the girl to our table and blankets to eat. But something about it felt strange. I do this a lot. I take on other people’s stuff, or even other people without thought or question. However, I have committed myself to taking on MYSELF more than others and this felt in violation of that concept. I am grateful for my ability to pause and get lost in thought. It allowed the Universe to step in to guide me. The little girl waved and made her way through the sea of swimmers to find her family. I saw her across the pool deck seated slight away from the swarm of family surrounding bags of snacks and accessories. She waved again. I waved back. Moving forward and touched by an invisible strand of human connection. I am reminded that not everything NEEDS to be defined, solved, or analyzed.

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Practice what you Teach

April 17 – This week I wanted my yoga students to not only make strides in their personal practice of focus, stretch, strength, and balance; but I wanted them to know that anything was possible because they possess all the tools they need to be successful. I wanted them to believe that they hold their power. Our mediation was centered on the quote:

Everything you need, your courage, strength, compassion and  love; everything you need is already within you.

I began class with that phrase and ended with it.  I also told them:

There are only two mistakes someone can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting. -Buddha

I could feel them melt as they released into these ideas. When I said it at the beginning of class, it was something to think about and roll around in their brains. When I said it again at the end of class, I could feel the kids grow and get more powerful. It is the most amazing feeling in the world to feel that inner strength from someone radiate into the room. I am so thankful for this opportunity.

Then it flooded me like a fiery bubbling wave. I needed to hear this and say this. I needed to remind myself that I do not need to search anywhere but in my own self for all the courage, strength, compassion, and love I need. I have it. I have had it all along. So much of my upbringing has reinforced the American scheme of being dependent on commercialism, self doubt, and self deprecation in order to survive. I am reteaching myself to look within and like what is there. I am learning to be faithful in myself and capabilities.

 

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The time is always NOW

“The is never a time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment, the time is always now.” -James Baldwin DWCHS ’42

April 3 – This was our closing meditation in yoga this morning. We are reinforcing that we are control of our actions and how we focus our energy. I am never quite certain from where the quote or intention will come and yet every week as if by magic it happens. I am so blessed to be part of a group of young people that are using yoga and meditation to redirect their futures.

I have found this quote particularly helpful in warding off feelings of failure and doubt. I am always in the moment of creating my salvation. I am always in the opportunity of generating positive change and growth. It seems as though stress, deadlines, expectations, and frustrations have been consuming my thoughts. I am doing my best to remember that I can breathe and make better choices. I can enlist help when needed. I can believe in the power of now to release me from the mistakes I made before or the perception of myself that is not serving me well. I know that each breath I inhale, I can reflect all the things I am able to do in this moment to feel and be better. With every exhale I breathe out gratitude for the opportunity to be this amazing person with choices and love. This is what I encourage in my students. Go inside and bring in the celebration of self. Breathe out the appreciation and be thankful for the ability to be celebratory. It guarantees motivation and positive energy.

Each moment I take my salvation, my future into my own hands, I am empowering the inner warrior to love, celebrate, and give thanks. In this moment now I am beyond happy that I am bringing yoga into my life with a more focused and dedicated approach. I am grateful that I have students with which I can share my journey and together we learn and grow. Healing is a process. I am coming back stronger and more aware and I am thankful.

 

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Appreciation

Today while at my daughter’s soccer practice, I was chatting with some other parents. One mom that I am friendly with took pause and asked me how I am feeling. It took a moment for it to land on me that she was genuinely asking about me -not my family, my work, my schedule, but asking about ME.

I am so grateful she did that and don’t feel as if I gave it as much appreciation in the moment as it deserved. When I thought about it later, I wrote her a text message to let her know I was grateful.

I would like to do more of that – noticing genuine moments of care and honoring them. I am not going to be grandiose and say that this year, month, week or even day I will commit to that gesture. I am simply going to encourage myself in this moment to be more aware of moments I can be appreciative and do it.

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Labyrinth

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I stepped into the labyrinth path not sure of what I needed, wanted, or why I was walking. I started slowly. One step at a time trying to listen to my breath and the wind. I was in pain and didn’t realize it. For a while I have been floating through my days acting as if I was happy and ‘in a good place”. And maybe I was. But there was pain. Pain that had not been introduced or acknowledged. It was small, sharp and tender. I have spent many hours in reflection confronting my pain and joy in hopes of embracing it all. It wasn’t until I stepped into the labyrinth, stepped in with a yielding heart did I notice this piece of myself. I had been praying for a door to be shown to me. A door to the next path of my journey. A new career, a new life, a new something to be presented to me so I could run to it and through it.

I tried to envision myself available and ready to be presented with this opportunity. I attempted to let the Universe know I was ready to leave what I knew as my daily routine and fly to something exciting and new. (Oh Universe, you are more clever and interesting than I give you credit!) As I walked I visualized a room full of doors that could be opened and I prayed that my walk, my weekend of meditation would rescue me from my current path and light up a new door. I thought about it flashing and flying open with a beautiful flourish and glorious light and music that I would dance my way into my true self.

I had been in this mindset where I didn’t like my job and the people I work for or at least the policies that dictate my day. I could feel a dread of returning to work after a holiday and it was not the typical “not wanting to leave vacation land” dread. It felt deeper and sadder. I felt like I was willingly digging myself into a hole that I would claim I was stuck inside. I was beginning to understand that I was walking myself to my despair. I was sad.

I stopped on the path and looked around. I took in the sounds of the meadow coming alive in the afternoon sun. I prayed again “please, please, please show me what is next, what is great, what is true.” I expected to get insight from the wonderful person that was Leading my workshop. I thought she would say or do something and tell me or even command me to try something new. I thought she would save me before I buried myself. The birds flew very close to me. The bees rested on my skin and I didn’t flinch. A mothy butterfly thing fluttered on my breath causing me to walk again. As I took each new step, I felt the pain again. A tiny piercing but gentle pain was awakening deep within my body. Tears started to swell in my eyes and drip from the corners down my cheek. At first I was confused, but I let it happen. I didn’t wipe them away, I let them go where they needed to go. I began to cry without understanding of why. I brought my mind back to my little pain. It was like a whisp of light and emotion somewhere deep in my shell.

I heard a voice. Or maybe I heard myself. But the words of Rumi rang out clear and soft, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

My breath latched on something sharp like a crack and then poured out with tears and a warm, fluid light. This sounds so unreal even as I write it, but I swear this is what I felt. My mind showed me images of cracked glass, shattered Earth and then a small flower bud with small bits ripping open to bloom. At that image, I understood something with out words. I was the shattered cracking beauty ripping to bloom. I began to laugh and walk faster. I talked to myself about allowing myself to crack open and bloom. Could I do it? Could I be brave? Along my walk ,I saw many small flowers trying to open in the sun and my chest ached. ACHED so intensely I actually stumbled and cried out. I am fairly certain there were others at the Labyrinth when I entered but in that moment it was only me. Only me.

Then my walk became more steady and directed. Only me…became simply me. A glorious Me. The meadow around me seemed a few shades brighter or more vivid. I tried to clear my eyes, thinking it was the tears distorting my world into a technicolor land of OZ, but it was real. I thought back to my initial concerns. What did I hope to achieve from this weekend and meditation? I was hoping for a door, an escape into my new life. I wanted to be shown a door to the next Me that I would love. A door. I focused on this image I had been obsessed with, a door. As I neared the center of the Labyrinth a door was presented to me in my mind. It became more clear but somewhat frustrating. I kept trying to see it open up and show me the new world that would make my life better. To my confusion, it did open but not out to something. The door swung in…it lead me inward. Inside this door was that concentrated ball of light trying to escape.

I stopped in my tracks and blinked several times. I shut that inner door and took some breaths. What was happening?

The way to my true self is through me…the place I have not wanted to go. The place I have tried to transform and escape. I thought back to the flowers beginning to burst open. We never think of those places of green ripping to reveal such vibrance as glorious pain. Maybe pain is not the right word anymore. It is more like a release after a strong hold. I began to pray and walk with energy thinking about myself bursting into bloom. I wanted to embrace the idea that I too could crack and allow the light to enter and escape. That light can fill me and the world to be part of a one.

Leonard Cohen says, “There is a crack in everything, that is how the light gets in.” I have spent so much time trying to fill the cracks. Now perhaps I can focus on being the shattered, cracking, beauty ripping to bloom.

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Love Letters

I didn’t know I had a really good idea about connecting families, stories, and souls until I charmed my way into Tanglewood for free one evening with a couple of new friends. I was on a little weekend getaway by myself. This is a very new experience for me and I must say it is wonderful. I met some ladies staying at the same place as me and we were just down the road from Tanglewood, the Summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. On a glorious Saturday evening, we decided to hike down the road and sit in the parking lot to have a listen. Instead, I calmly marched us right up to gate and explained we would really like to come in. As if I was Obi Wan waving my hand in a Jedi mind trick, the security guards produced tickets and opened the gate. Voila. My new gal pals were giddy and convinced I am a witch. I am not a witch. Not in the least.

Our evening was delightful and as we laughed our way into the night, we began to swap stories and anecdotes of our personal lives. During the show I had been writing in a journal and one of the ladies asked me about it. I told her it’s my daughter’s book and she looked perplexed. I began to tell her the method to my madness. I found myself revealing a passionate writing process taken up by my family. I hadn’t set out to boast, expose, or instruct. However, we spend a short while walking and discussing the beautiful gift our family has created. One of the ladies asked me if I would mind if she shared my idea with some new moms she knows. She said it was something she wished she had for herself…I told her to share it with everyone. It was then I knew I should write this down and give it to you.

When my doctor told us we were pregnant with my oldest child, I began writing in a journal. This was a bit different than a personal journal because it was written to my baby. I just let myself stream of conscious work out whatever was happening for me. I knew enough of myself to not create any harsh deadlines or rules. When I wanted or needed to say something I wrote it down. When I was worried, I wrote it down. When I went to the doctor or had a discussion with my husband, I wrote it down. Not every day. I have several journals filled now and my daughter is currently five. I tell her anything. I talk about stuff that might be hard to say or I don’t want to forget. Sometimes I tell her things that are trivial. I just write. Someday I will give her these books, they are for her.

Much to our delight and surprise, when my daughter was two and a half, we found out we were pregnant with a little boy. I wrote about it in his sister’s journal. I felt sad I wasn’t making one for him. I gave it a lot of thought and knew what I am honestly capable of and two emotionally raw and real journals is NOT practical. I decided to write him a letter on the day he was born, March 17. Then I made a deal with myself that I will write him a letter on the 17th of every month until I can’t. He has 30 letters tucked in a box so far waiting patiently for his reading pleasure. They are not all long and some are written on cards or even postcards. They are my monthly check ins with him, with me, with us. It fills me with joy simply thinking of it.

The third part of this ritual came from my request but is not carried out by me. Right before my daughter was born, I was filled with the hormonal charged nesting and sentimental swirl that many mamas experience. I began to become nostalgic for my own grandmothers who both died many years before this. I had questions and requests for stories that could not be satiated. I came up with something I longed for, something I can’t have for myself, but wanted so dearly for my kids. I asked my parents and my husband’s parents if they would be interested in writing a letter to their new grandchild. I let them know it wasn’t mandatory but would be greatly appreciated. I asked them to consider for my daughter’s birthday every year they are alive to include a letter, a year in review from their perspective. I let them know I am not going to read these letters but shall have them kept for my kids. They will have a letter for every year they share this Earth with their grandparents. To my surprise, they now also do it for my son. My mom has included recipes and pictures I think. The letters come with their birthday presents specially marked and someday they will be able to reconnect regardless of distance or existence as I say. I was really touched when my husband decided that he would write a yearly letter to the kids on their birthdays as well. He gets pictures printed and includes them with his “Year in Review”. They must be the luckiest kids I know. Just imagine having letters marking your journey along with your grandmother’s journey from her perspective.

That’s all it is. A writing commitment of love. Now, I have heard many a mom rant that they don’t have time to scrapbook or lament how  they kept baby books for the first few months until chaos of life took over. Trust me, I am not super-pintrest-coupon-hacking mom. I made a commitment that was honest with what I could do and it has become so rewarding and magical. Think about it, can you take 10 minutes to write a card one time a month? Or perhaps spending a little longer on a letter but once a year is more suited to your lifestyle. We are caught up in the memes, tweets, and insta-gratification of our digital lives. How nice would it be to cosy up and read a letter to you from someone you love that you have missed for oh so long?

So that is my great idea. Take what you want, change it, make it fit you, and give a bit of yourself.

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Pick Me Up

I am so tired. I am drained. However, I sit here in a sea of paperwork and to-do lists ready to soldier on.  This is what I do. I am trying to put my focus in other places, places that serve my soul. I am giving attention to the to-do lists that fill my heart. Even though I have not had a good night’s rest and I am hungry, I am moving forward with energy. I am finding energy for the things and the people I love. I am finding energy for myself.

 

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Build a Bridge

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I recently had an opportunity to go on retreat with myself. I escaped for a few days from my daily grind in order to let go of some internal baggage and hopefully fall a little bit in love with myself. I quickly honed in and realised that I am no longer interested in ripping open old wounds, reliving bad moments of my past or bringing up a lot of garbage that has weighed me down, only to wallow in it. I am okay doing all of that as long as I see it, identify, learn, and move on. I want to Build a Bridge and get over it.

This is crucial. This is liberating. I am open to an exorcism if I know I have some cleansing and cleaning power at the ready.

I am fortunate. I have a great therapist. I have a wonderful husband and children. Everyone is on my team, encouraging me to keep the celebration of myself going…it took a lot to get to this place , but I am proud I am here.

Since my personal retreat, I have experienced a couple of potential stress hurricanes. I was somewhat surprised with my ability to quickly access a place of calm openness and a powerful commitment to my own limitations. There is strength in saying I am at my capacity. It helps you move forward without picking up more than you can handle. I was able to listen to a troubled friend without getting consumed by the drama or hurt. I have had a habit in the past to take it on in order to help their pain…meanwhile clogging my own ability to move on. No more. I also was at work and a colleague wanted to take my time without respect or efficiency. I said no. I was firm. I stated that I am limited for time and I cannot extend myself anymore especially if there is no plan, agenda or clear objective to how my time will be used. That is a HUGE accomplishment for me. I can suffer from wanting to please or feeling that its better if I give to all…and again it leaves me flattened and furious. Not this time. I learned something crucial at my retreat: Taking on more, carrying more burden does NOT make you stronger. It can weaken you and defeat you. There is so much strength in setting limits and respecting your abilities…it is true self perseverance and love. Strength comes from love.

So yea…I am building a bridge.