the gourd next door
February 22, 2012 § 2 Comments
I feel a little like a pumpkin wishing for a magic spell to transform me into something phenomenal. Change as a vehicle to confidence. I am lacking inspiration.
Gone are the days of spontaneous self-indulgent shopping. Shoes no longer spin daydreams of stepping out past the stroke of midnight. I no longer feel confident in clothes that hug stray curves. Hiding pieces of myself behind clothes, I feel lost in a nondescript cloak of invisibility. Worse, sometimes I fear my invisibility is quite visible.
Lately I catch myself wishing for something else, a quick pulled together style that reflects the woman I am on the inside. Looking at basic pieces in my closet or window shopping on sunny days, I am struck with the realization that I do not remember where to begin. I try to begin with basics, but get lost in simple addition. Combining pieces result in mismeasured mixtures of shape and style.
Is there a chic cheat sheet for creating a timeless, elegant image? Something mature and spirited, playful and appropriate. A look that balances my role as mother and partner.
I have exercised the option of personal shopper to the unfortunate exhaustion of the patient young woman who endeavored to play fairy godmother. Her magic cast an image that fell short of Me. Apologetic and uninspired I retreated to familiar creature comforts. As my trusty wardrobe of denim and t-shirts softens with signs of wear, I am ready for something new and hopelessly lost among the racks and shelves of options.
This gourd wants to feel like a girl, feminine and confident in her own skin.
sleepwalking on a tightrope
February 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
Want to know a personal secret? I have a tiny quirk that lends me as much peace as it gifts others comic relief. When the going gets tough, I fall asleep. Despite the laugh lines that mark my journey into adulthood, I slip into a solitary bubble of tranquility in moments of stress that rival fairy tale slumbers of beloved childhood characters.
College deadlines for lengthy thesis papers would send me shuffling to sleep. Setting my alarm for a promised power nap I would consistently snooze only to wake at the proverbial last minute; typing enthusiastically in the frenzied moments just shy of my deadline, completing projects with a clarity that sharply contrasted the haze of my dreams.
In labor with my first child I slipped into deep sleep, snoring between contractions moments before delivering our son. My husband shares this story with genuine amusement; his telling consistently met with polite smiles and disbelief. I cannot protest, I was sleeping when it happened.
This week, as we near an important meeting concerning our son I feel the familiar lullaby of sweet dreams calling to me like mythological sirens to sailors on troubled waters. Despite the clear skies of morning my head is fuzzy with the promise of sleep, I cup my coffee closely trying valiantly to stay awake and meet each wave of anxiety for the unknown with false bravado willing myself to keep my eyes open.
I am walking a tightrope of nerves and uncertainty, my head cloudy with sleep.
day by day
February 21, 2012 § 1 Comment
Calendar days pass in tidy, equal squares of time. Mundane moments of routine activities and spontaneous pockets of play create a rhythm of predictable tides. Some days I feel as though I am racing forward moving quickly between errands, household tasks, and miscellaneous commitments. Other days time seems to slumber and the minutes pass in aching stillness as if Father Time’s hands are mischievously holding each second greedily.
Gray skies and cold rain drops have mired today in a lengthy sigh and I catch myself daydreaming of days ahead; sunshine and the anticipation of adventure. Like a child I am counting calendar squares between this day and a days of play. In the weeks ahead my daughter will share a camping adventure with her father; my husband and I will celebrate another wedding anniversary with a quiet night to ourselves; our family will travel for a long anticipated visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s home.
Lost to anticipation my daughter’s dry cough stirred me from daydreams and I found my way to the dark, quiet room where she is resting today. Her lopsided smile beneath watery, sleepy eyes make her seem smaller and younger than her years. Her typically headstrong, playful antics are buried beneath tired limbs and propped up with piles of pillows. It is a quiet day, one whose minutes pass with the forced progress of one walking against a current.
Rather than busy myself with tasks, I am settling into the space beside my daughter. Absorbing a borrowed day from the routine of school and setting aside thoughts of tomorrow. Let the hours pass slowly today, my little girl grows all too quickly.
music of silence
February 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
In music a rest is an interval of silence. In life music rests in the quiet pauses between the business and noise of the day. Reflective moments of stillness, the quiet company of my children; togetherness void of distractions. Rest balances and centers us physically, emotionally, and mentally with restorative intervals of silence.
This past week my son’s emotions overflowed, splashing sloppily into moments of rest. So often I write these moments releasing them from my mind, examining them for pathways to comprehension and care. This week I sat present in my son’s unrest giving my son silence to match his crescendos of anxiety. I listened, questioned, witnessing his frustrations without endeavoring to preach words of wisdom, answer rhetorical questions, explain injustice, or solve perpetual problems. In the interval of silence I listened to my son’s song.
Carrying his words in the quiet space of my heart I welcomed my own silence. I set aside errands and busied my body with activities that were mindlessly repetitious in an effort to foster silence and stillness. I ran to calm my nerves and read to still my worries. I avoided writing uncertain how to capture my thoughts and content to let them settle like weightless flecks of dust momentarily caught by stray strands of sunlight as they landed soundlessly in the space of my day.
At week’s end my uncertainty clamors noisily against my peace, but I am listening to the day as it unfolds. Finding music in the silence.
self truth
February 15, 2012 § Leave a comment
I welcome moments of insight that foster greater consciousness. In theory. Philosophy and practice are sometimes divided by truth despite the best of intentions. I speak of truth in this context as a tool rather than a measurement of honesty; a conscious acceptance of specific characteristics that require awareness to live mindfully. This lesson is ongoing and often humbling.
Recently my husband accused me of being inconsistent. My mind audibly slammed shut and I began mounting my defense. Arms crossed and feelings hurt every inch of my body screamed I am not! while something deep within whispered Yes, you are. Despite indignation and wounded pride, I felt the familiar discomfort of a personal truth. This feeling of unrest alone was enough for me to be still and center myself in the problem, looking for the uncomfortable truth behind my husband’s words.
Some of my greatest revelations have been cloaked in moments of denial. The more forcibly I push away a thought, dissociating myself from an unflattering quality, the greater the truth. Marriage is a safe place for difficult truths. My relationship with my husband is built on an expectation that we accept challenges as opportunities to live better.
Eyes wide open I began to see moments of inconsistency. Shame or guilt lent me excuses, but truth offered me an opportunity to create calm from chaos. Inconsistencies linger, but awareness and accountability inspire me to consciously try my best to speak and act with intent.
Just as I was celebrating this personal truth I found myself noisily fighting a larger truth. Inconsistency was symptomatic of a greater illness. Old insecurities cause me to gather defensive measures close until I can neither see nor hear over the wall in the middle of my relationships. I am reacting from a place of defensiveness rather than welcoming perspectives that conflict with my vision.
In fairness to my family and the life we share I am standing firmly and accountably in these moments of consciousness. I am mapping the places where I am inconsistent to create more mindful routines that foster calmness. I am trying to take down walls, opening myself up to vulnerability to better hear those I love. I am penning my thoughts to hold myself accountable, welcoming humility, and endeavoring to accept these truths that I might live my best life.
living in love
February 11, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years ago my husband and I were preparing to join our lives with a new life; marriage and family beautifully intertwined by the anticipation of our first child. Mindfully we leapt from a couple into a family and our decisions were centered in an awareness that our wedding was smaller than our marriage. Similarly, romantic holidays were happy excuses to celebrate the everyday rather than an occasion to remember.
On the Valentine’s Day prior to our wedding my husband and I stood patiently waiting in a quiet office for our marriage license; the date on our application our gift to one another. Practical and sentimental this act created an expectation for our life together. We pledged to make time for romance with small gestures and celebrate our life together not only on holidays, but on overlooked everyday occasions.
I often think that the birth of our first child blessed the early days of our marriage with conscious acts of love and a genuine appreciation for simple gestures of affection. Small details of our wedding day were overshadowed by the greater miracle of a new life. When our son was born early challenges drew my husband and I closer. More than newlyweds, we were friends in love with one another and grateful for daily miracles.
Romantic holidays and anniversaries are balanced against everyday acts of love, kindness, generosity. Roses or jewelry would feel wilted and tarnished without the hours of patience, humor, and care-taking that are hallmarks of a life shared. Arguments where opinions are honored and challenges met with honest endeavors to live our best life create a sense of gratitude that cannot be contained in lines of sentiment on beautiful stationery.
As Valentine’s Day and our anniversary draw near I am remembering little gifts, large blessings, and giving thanks for years of living in love.
changing sameness
February 5, 2012 § Leave a comment
The more things change, the more they stay the same. I like to think the truth that breathes contradiction into this statement of changing sameness is our ability to stay constant in simple principles while gathering life lessons into our consciousness. Without this truth there is an assumption of a stagnant lack of growth.
Recently I celebrated change with an indulgent experiment in web design. This was my second effort to embrace a new design and I was inspired by the little lessons I encountered along the way; opportunities to identify myself with concepts centered in design required a connection to self and choices that resonated as authentically me. As I neared the end of my experience working with a talented and patient designer something happened that I had not foreseen; an uncharted crossroad. One mistake that would require an unanticipated change.
I needed to take a large step away from the familiar comforts of my site and explore a self hosted space. I was immediately anxious. Uncomfortable. Overwhelmed. I wasn’t ready to let go of the familiar. I set aside the expectation of change to consider the decision without the weight of anxiety. The peace that accompanied the absence of change directed me to my answer.
For now, I am grateful for the insight the experience lent me and content to share my thoughts here, in a place of familiar comfort. Despite the lack of change, I celebrate moments of growth and my sense of self; little truths that remain constant inspired and challenged by new awareness and possibilities left to explore when the time is right. Amid the sameness, I am changed and in the space of change I remain authentic to myself.
holding a moonbeam
February 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
My daughter sings an Off-Off-Broadway interpretation of “Do-Re-Mi” intoning Julie Andrews timeless and beloved character Maria while playing independently in her room. I in turn hum a cheerfully content “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria,” the lyrical phrases capturing pieces of my daughter’s spirit in a lovely melody.
She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee. Her dress has got a tear. I have watched my little girl grow from pleading to be hoisted onto a safe tree branch with toddler grunts arms reaching toward the sky to balancing herself in rain boots and princess costumes, tearing her gown while smiling proudly from her perch in our climbing tree. She embraces adventure as eagerly as she slips into costumes; moving with intention and grace all the while unhindered by dirt or scrapes.
She’d out pester any pest. Drive a hornet from its nest. I can imagine her poking a beehive with the same spirited curiosity that inspired willful tugging on puppy dog ears; mischievously and fearlessly testing boundaries. Still, her penitence is real. For all my daughter’s headstrong antics it must be said she does not take any joy from causing harm and her errors are met with genuine tears of remorse. Her heart is as immeasurable as her imagination.
She’s always late for everything. Happily distracted with her own pursuits she is often lost to the boundaries of time, stretching play to capture every drop of sunshine from her day. I can easily imagine her dancing on a hilltop mindless of the passing hours while scavenging for fun and celebrating every miracle of nature.
Many a thing you know you’d like tell her. Many a thing she ought to understand. But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? Looking into my daughter’s eyes I catch fleeting moments of undivided attention only to have it swept away with the impossibleness of keeping a wave upon the sand. Keeping her still is like trying to catch a cloud and pin it down.
When I’m with her I’m confused. Out of focus and bemused and I never know exactly where I am. Unpredictable as weather, she’s as flighty as a feather.She is gentle, she is wild, she’s a riddle, she’s a child.
My little girl is the heart song that fills my day and I am grateful for the sound of her music; notes of independence and curiosity, creativity and make believe. She’s a problem I do not wish to solve; a moonbeam that shines too brightly to hold within my hand.
eeny meeny
February 1, 2012 § Leave a comment
I am compulsively indecisive. Nursery rhymes help, sometimes. I often resort to itemizing Pros and Cons to weigh a big decision. Even then, with facts lined up neatly like statistics, I indubitably rearrange my thoughts, double-check my emotions, look around me at my options. It is a small irritation that I am determined I will not pass to my children, least they run off into the world scattered and indecisive. There are three things I do in an effort to nurture my children’s confidence in their choices.
- Whenever possible I create an opportunity to gift my children a choice. I do this intentionally. From food to clothing, book titles to movie genres I try to foster an anxiety free moment of empowerment with two simple words: you choose. I do not react to their decisions with terms of judgment like: good or bad.
- What do you think? I want my children to feel comfortable giving voice to the quiet instinctive voices that guide them. It gives me an opportunity to learn something new, but more importantly it allows my children to feel comfortable with their opinions. It has also taught them to ask other’s to share different perspectives, modeling a balance between speaking and listening.
- Take your time so that you make a choice you feel good about. Notice I didn’t say happy. There’s a difference to me. I don’t like to be pushed into something uncomfortable and I like to feel I made a good choice for myself. One day my children are going to be asked to do something they may not feel comfortable with and I want them to remember this lesson.
Small acts. Gentle words. Practical practice at thinking for themselves. Little things I hope help them to move confidently along their own paths.
finders keepers
January 31, 2012 § 3 Comments
If my son has a singular object that best captures his quiet innocence, then my daughter has an eclectic collection of tiny treasures that capture her whimsical and creative spirit. She finds immeasurable joy in tiny pieces; keeping them in small containers, stuffed in corners, stowed away in drawers, and carried from here to there.
As a toddler, my daughter wobbled through the house clutching small figurines tightly for safekeeping. Later she began packing them into bags and boxes, toting them everywhere; doll accessories, pendants from necklaces, Lego pieces, art supplies, family photographs, and miscellaneous objects scavenged on everyday expeditions for treasure. She creates with them, gifts them, unravels stories with them, and ties memories to them.
There are moments I believe she leaves behind as much as she gathers, sprinkling her chaos with charm and cheer. I look upon my little girl’s company of clutter with an acceptance of her fun loving appreciation for little things in much the same way I marvel at her big brother’s innocent affection for a childhood toy. I find little pieces of their personalities keeping them centered with individual expressions of self. Finding their way and keeping true to themselves.
