choosing & claiming
January 2, 2014 § 4 Comments
Naming the New Year has become a tradition that travels over miles and connects me in spirit to the company of an old friend; a kindred soul who similarly seeks inspiration and growth in personal expression. Each year we gift the New Year a name that weighs our consciousness in accountability for our hopes, creates momentum with positive intention, and lends direction with clarity of perspective. It is an exercise created by Ali Edwards who crafted a movement of inspiration and a community of creativity around One Little Word.
This marks my third year naming the New Year. In the beginning the experience of choosing a word was intimate to my sense of self. My first year was a gift of certainty that arrived from recognizing potential in my struggle against uncertainty. In pledging to keep an open mind I embraced the word Open to guide me in my actions as I welcomed a year marked by change. The second year my word came from a place deep within and I could not shake its presence; Be formed on my tongue effortlessly inviting a stillness of presence that served me well this past year in moments of perseverance. This year my word came in my daughter’s voice, filling the silence with Joy.
Let me back up a moment to honor the story behind choosing and claiming this year’s word. In December I began exploring words, eventually testing possible choices in carefully constructed lists hoping to stumble upon a word that would speak to my heart. Unhurried I accepted the silence and revisited past words to map my experience. I immediately recognized themes of presence in past choices that honor my natural tendency toward reflection. In an effort to challenge myself with a new path I labored lovingly over a list of unfamiliar words, seeking the proverbial needle in the haystack. In the quiet morning hours on the last day of the past year, I read each word aloud sounding out a sense of self. I listed words I wanted to claim, beautiful words and uncomfortable words. On the eve of the New Year there was no one singular word that spoke to me.
Desperate and dutiful to the timeliness of this endeavor I looked to my family for inspiration. My husband sifted through words patiently and thoughtfully, choosing Embrace. The word resonated with familiarity and I pushed against its comfort. My daughter, without pause, said Joyful. In as much as I celebrated her perspective the word felt false in its exuberance. The certainty of my daughter’s voice was matched in equal measure by my unspoken uncertainty, but the disparity between our perspectives gifted me space to invite Joy to play a greater role in the year to come.
Embracing Joy felt like upending a box of crayons onto white paper and so I grabbed my pen and scribbled it against the emptiness of the New Year. My daughter’s voice spelling out a new challenge.
joy
January 1, 2014 § 15 Comments
In the sleepy contentment of a New Year still drowsy with memories of last year, I am writing the word JOY into my calendar.
I am sweeping out the cobwebs of worry that suffocate light and making room for the uncomplicated company of wonder.
I am recognizing the potential in new opportunities over the threat of harm in the unknown.
I am making myself vulnerable to each experience and finding strength in tenderness.
I will move into this year marking the landscape of change with joy.
I will look first to ability over insecurity and see possibility in spite of adversity.
I will stand present in simple delights hidden in the noise of busy days, embracing each moment.
I am setting my heart and mind to mark the passage of days to come with joy, welcoming the New Year with resolve.
home for the holiday
December 30, 2013 § 4 Comments
It happens each year, a quiet day invites my attention inward and I begin tucking away pieces of the holiday and cleansing out the congested corners of our home to ready our threshold to welcome a new year.
I started with the Christmas clutter, knit stockings now empty and paper wreaths formed of tiny handprints. I left the Nutcrackers that our holiday spirit might linger beneath their tireless watch and stowed away our ornaments. I gathered the holiday books into a bin and corralled my children’s colorful collections of beloved seasonal trappings. Soon the surfaces of our home were open and I welcomed the space that seemed to invite change.
Inspired I began to explore neglected nooks for forgotten trimmings tucked sleepily into my favorite hiding spaces. Unhurriedly I gave time where I previously had none, sweeping out the spaces whose weight pushed against my patience consuming time and energy.
By afternoon I had engaged my family’s help as we turned our attention toward each child’s room, sifting through unused evidence of old interests to make room for favorite pastimes and new pursuits. Beneath uncluttered workspaces we preserved room for creative endeavors and classroom assignments.
There is still much to be done, like a living creature our home grows to absorb our distractions and we are inconsistent in our care. For now I am merely inviting room for change and hoping to greet the New Year with space for possibility and time for adventures yet undetermined.
to want for
December 29, 2013 § 8 Comments
This holiday my favorite gift was the product of disappointment. It began when my daughter first drafted a letter to Santa asking for a pet bunny. Her words were carefully drawn and conscientiously void of spelling errors; she elaborated over important details and wrapped her request in an elegantly fashioned envelope that was sealed with faith in magic.
At my first opportunity to interfere with her wish I consciously held each rational word to myself. It would have been simple to undermine her request and direct her to a more attainable dream, but the moment begged silence in place of reason; instead I dwelled on the accomplishment between the lines of her letter. The clarity of her perfectly formed letters and tidy punctuation.
The letter itself is a time capsule of my daughter’s dreams and literacy. Gone were the hurried, phonetic scribbles adorned with artwork that had always marked her creative individuality and youth. In place was a more mature and lovingly intentional letter that bound us to a new moment in time.
Throughout the month of December my daughter’s anticipation increased in proportion to each calendar day. On the eve of Christmas morning, I was as quiet in my doubt as my daughter was joyful in her faith. My sleep was interrupted with my daughter’s dreams and I wished fervently for the impossible to delay disappointment.
Christmas morning a toy bunny sat motionless beside the tree and a letter of explanation rested beside the lovingly fashioned treats that had been sampled in our sleep. I gauged my daughter’s reaction through the camera lens, looking for signs of her response.
The note simply stated the practicalities of traveling across the world with an animal unsuited for extreme weather while acknowledging my daughter’s maturity. Somewhere between the lines of explanation I saw the first light of a most genuinely pleased smile spark behind my daughter’s eyes.
When she looked up it was with joy and content resignation to say: It is enough that he understood. It was a gift that was born of innocence and maturity, faith and frustration; a moment I could not singlehandedly purchase or craft and a culmination of days unorchestrated but informed by the promise of wishing without the certainty of knowing.
eve
December 24, 2013 § 4 Comments
Such a small word to encompass the crest of anticipation as it rises enthusiastically on waves of nostalgia. Here, in the hours between wishing and wanting, there is a beautiful waiting.
lost
December 23, 2013 § 4 Comments
Distracted. Each fragmented thought begins with a recognition only to be shuffled aside by happy busyness. Thoughts seem caught to the roof of my mouth, my tongue unable to dislodge the words wound tightly into silence beneath my smile.
The last page of my calendar weighs heavily against the New Year. Cheerful scribbles in hurried hand endeavor to hold tightly to the present least the future comes too quickly. It is a season of change and the pains of uncertainty strain taut against hope.
I am borrowing time in an impossible effort to hold tightly to a season of possibility, conscious of each blessing and grateful for the beauty of this moment. Lost in the space between yesterday and tomorrow.
light
December 17, 2013 § 6 Comments
Once broken in spirit I gathered beautiful souls into my life. Happy to bask in their warmth, I drew from their light selfishly to fill the empty places of insecurities and loneliness. It has taken a lifetime to see the brightness of my own spirit in the broken pieces of my past. I wonder if those who leant beauty to difficult days were able to see the light that outlined dark corners of my need. Even in loss the shadow of their company carries a lightness that curls the corners of my lips in happy remembrances. From the little girl who first gifted me friendship to old relationships misplaced in time; faded faces whose names are written against the darkness in shades of light.
a winter’s day
December 14, 2013 § 2 Comments
Daydreams drew my eyes to the window this morning where snowflakes teased tree branches, cloaking them beneath an elegant garland of winter finery. With a wonder that has never tarnished, I am leaning into the promise of winter; flushed faces and footprints that wander directionless across slumbering lawns, cocoa and comforters weighing us in a moment’s pause. There is a restorative stillness beneath the blanket of snow. Mother Nature has erased thoughts of errands or busyness, covering the walkways and driveways so that the only path is one that circles inward. Simple togetherness and quiet reflectiveness, unhurried activities guided by minute hands that move more gently; the snow drifting between spaces and blurring the boundaries of time.
overlooked insights
December 5, 2013 § 7 Comments
During the Christmas season an eager tread of little feet races with heavy percussion down our stairway, announcing each day. A drumroll of anticipation as my daughter wakes immediately conscious of an unspoken promise and shakes off sleep hurriedly, meticulously combing our home for a small indication a guest has visited us in preparation for the holidays.
From the first day of December until the eve of Christmas Day each child scours the corners of our modest home for a subtle clue that we have hosted a holiday visitor in our sleep. The idea was born of a tiny notebook I uncovered at a local card store and has evolved into a beloved tradition.
This holiday whodunnit began a few years back, at a time when our son was on the cusp of certainty as he quietly challenged Christmas magic; still under the spell of the season but carefully curious of his doubts. With four years between our children I wanted to hold tightly to the innocence of their faith in things unseen; from the secular practices of Christmas to the personal and intangible sincerity of Faith.
The seasonal clues that sprinkle our home are ever-present, overlooked items that suggest something greater hovering beneath the everyday. It is the practice of searching for magic that has challenged logic with wonder. What began in play has created a practice of choice, nurturing a perspective of faith in things both seen and unseen. The message I hope will linger in my children’s hearts and minds long after we stow away our Christmas trimmings is this:
There is beauty and magic everywhere, everyday; it is up to us to tumble into consciousness eager to find meaning in overlooked moments of insight.
impossibly possible
December 2, 2013 § 2 Comments
Thanksgiving vacation was exceptionally average, a blur of traditional comfort foods and lazy togetherness that seemed to challenge the familiar hallmarks of our days. This morning felt painfully forced as the clocks mocked my displeasure, signaling a return to routine. My daughter’s smile was entirely misplaced by the time we shuffled into our coats; sleepy eyes and crocodile tears pleaded with me to guard against the day and to contort expectations into play. Trapped in a moment of misery I remembered days long past when we could hide together from routine and snuggle into mischief and make-believe. Even as I explained our responsibilities I wanted to steal a day from the calendar and chart a different course. Instead I raised my chin and squeezed my little girl tightly to hold our wishes close, quietly counting the minutes until the end of the school day. Moving into the possibility of today and wishing for the impossibility of yesterday.
