echo
February 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
Thoughts rattle around looking for focus and creating an echo. I hear the din, but keep searching for my voice. There is a humbling challenge in trying to create something new. Whether my words resonate with another or serve a more self-indulgent purpose is a wonderful mystery. For now, I am enjoying a moment of discovery.
forecast
February 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
The weatherman is predicting a snowfall that promises a rare proclamation; anticipation builds as school children await two words yet unspoken. Snow Day. My children smile in their sleep already dreaming of icy escapades. I peer into the early morning darkness at the fine dusting of snow that holds hope for a backyard fortress of frost populated with a battery of snowmen. Inside, the pantry is stocked with cocoa and marshmallows; movies and popcorn, board games and books stand ready for indoor distractions. I savor my morning coffee and send out an early morning wish on cold winter winds for the simple joys of a Snow Day.
the ostrich
January 31, 2011 § Leave a comment
I rather like burying my head in the sand, assuming my other end is sticking in the air. Somewhere between the cleansing breaths and elongated muscles of yoga postures I forget about dirty laundry, my children’s homework, and groceries. I press comfortably and push powerfully into moments of strength. I catch a glimpse of my inner warrior and ground myself in a moment of peace. Still, my crow won’t fly, but I welcome humility and humor as old friends… and stick my head back in the sand.
a book
January 27, 2011 § 1 Comment
A book. Such a small thing in which to lose an entire person. Just as an author breathes life into her characters, these characters draw me through the Looking Glass into their world.
As a child I was an early reader and this interest was a companion in times of change. My parents divorced when I was very young, forever altering the landscape of my life. Homes, friends, expectations became unpredictable. Still, the familiarity of the written word gave me peace. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. by Judy Blume, accompanied me on my journey into puberty when my own mother was miles away. The comfort and guidance of a woman’s voice anchoring me in a sea of turbulence.
Books fueled teenage fantasies of first loves and inspired daydreams during algebra. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, predicted complicated suitors with confusing messages of disinterest and adoration; Mr. Darcy was the standard by which I measured the boys in high school.
Later, required college reading would help me identify a passion in the vast world of academia. Shakespeare, Descartes, Min-Zhan Lu, and Foucault challenged me to push against my own boundaries and awakened a student of English, Philosophy, and Sociology. I started to see language as an instrument with which I could mold the world around me.
As a mother, books are part of my children’s daily regimen, nurturing their imaginations with pages of well loved books. Before they could read, each child would nestle into my lap, our time together a meeting place for exploration. On countless afternoons Shel Silverstein lead us down a magical sidewalk where humor and creativity inspired laughter and conversations centered in curiousity. Over time my children began to request new titles, their choices spoke of unique personalities finding their way in literature; picture books became chapter books, non-fiction evolved into research for their own ideas.
My story is common to many. Still, my passion for the possibility lurking between the covers of a new title calls to me and I am happily lost to another journey with an old love.
uninvited
January 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
Today’s challenge: stillness. There are moments when I can feel unhappiness pulling at my subconscious, taunting me with self-doubt or negativity. In response I tend to smile brighter, chase after projects more enthusiastically, increase the speed and momentum of my day in an effort to out race thoughts or feelings I am unsure of.
This morning, with moments of kindness and love gracing my daily routine, I rejected disharmony as an impostor. Still, it followed me as I walked my children to school and settled over me like the snow quietly sleeping on the ground. Irritated by the burden of my companion’s weight I grew angry and challenged this uninvited guest to say their piece. Silence.
So, today I am going to be still. I will take my spirit’s light and shine it into the dark corners of my mind and see if there is indeed a truth I have overlooked. Kindness and Patience will be my friends in stillness.
breathe
January 24, 2011 § 1 Comment
Each time I dive into a body of water, I am convinced I am going to drown. Airborne and caught between the concrete and unknown below the water’s surface I am enveloped in panic and terror. Within seconds of submersion I sputter gracelessly, fighting to surface, choking on fear and exhilarated to see daylight. My mother lays the burden of this fear at the feet of a relative who threw me into a pool as a toddler and allowed me to struggle under water for instructional purposes. The swim lesson was a singular event, largely recalled through my mother’s eyes. Those feelings however haunt me in moments outside my control and help to give voice to a larger fear… the unknown.
Restless in my relationship with fear I have grown tired of tiptoeing through my days, holding my breath in hesitation. I envy those that seem to bound through their days with heart and energy, exuding confidence and strength; warmth and loyalty; passion and persistence. I gather these spirited personalities close to me and celebrate them. In the warmth of their support I find myself testing the water, fantasizing about the perfect swan dive.
the other actor
January 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently my husband treated me to a long anticipated theater excursion. My body relaxed into the well-worn theater seat as the first notes from the orchestra cast its spell. I felt myself let go of the day’s events as I slipped into the storyteller’s world. Then, with the fortuitousness of so many discoveries, I caught the conductor dancing. Stop.
I tumbled quickly out of the performance into wonder. I tried to dismiss the distraction, but I caught myself peeking at the unexpected performer. The questions clinked noisily in my mind like a soda bottle rattling to the ground. What did this man see on stage that inspired the sway and smiles that seemed simultaneously intimate and unintentional? My thoughts were scattered; amusement and curiosity held me tightly.
The actors have taken their bows and the music has long ended, but the image of the conductor dancing continues to make me smile.
scribblechic 