thanksgiving
November 6, 2013 § 6 Comments
November marks a conscious effort for many to count the days with acknowledgement of thanks; publicly or privately we create space for gratitude. I scribble little notes of thanks on my daughter’s lunchbox napkin, weighting us in a moment of gratitude from the different corners of our days. I do this in the spirit of Thanksgiving, drawing her eyes to our good fortune.
More importantly I move in gratitude throughout my days, unbound by the seasons. I use a language of gratitude when I speak and I weight my correspondence with a thankful spirit. I practice thanksgiving in much the same way one might lean into a yoga posture to create balance and flexibility, strength and grace; responding to my environment mindful of my blessings least I allow challenges to distract me from a sense of self fortified in faith.
Each day I thread my skies with silver linings to better appreciate the shapes of clouds that cast shadows, seeking and giving thanks in word and action.
curiosity & community
November 5, 2013 § 3 Comments
Over the years I have crafted opportunities for my children to engage with various environments, nurturing their inquisitive nature. Sometimes I nudge them outside their chosen interests and on other occasions I honor natural inclinations by facilitating opportunities that acknowledge facets of self. Time and again the lessons that linger are founded in curiosity and community.
Often times I look to their schools wondering at the tidy categorization of needs and labels that seem to pigeon-hole children into expectations and assumptions that narrow their paths academically. The academically advanced children who are privileged with rare opportunities but excluded from simpler engagements that foster compassion; the special needs children for whom we interpret behavior through polite, politically correct exceptions without acknowledging their roles as educators of character; the children who we extract for supplemental lessons but exclude from concepts that inspire growth; children of poverty or diversity whose presence most honestly models the world in which our children live in, marginalized by factors outside their control.
I want to see classrooms where children engage across social, emotional, and academic differentials to work together through challenging concepts. Ability molded in curiosity and modeled in community.
seasons of thought
November 4, 2013 § 12 Comments
The sun has been swallowed by the evening sky and so too my thoughts seem lost to silence. Like stars that tempt us to look beyond our experiences, my reflections feel just beyond my pen. My thoughts drift with the careless whimsy of the leaves that twirl recklessly to the ground, but I can no more contain my words than I can prevent the briskness in the air that whispers of cooler months ahead. As the world around me turns darker, preparing to slumber through the winter months, I feel the familiar temptation of stillness and the quiet rustling of dreams.
phases & folly
October 24, 2013 § 10 Comments
My daughter has fallen into a phase of preferential company, delightfully apologetic in her favoritism. Every bit the spitting image of her father’s folly, their laughter and mischievous whims are lyrical in their magic. I play along, the misunderstood and overlooked giver of hugs mumbling exaggerated exclamations of malicious favoritism.
Quietly content, I watch their company from the periphery, each demonstration of belonging is a fruition of the promise exchanged when I first watched my husband’s lumbering form balance our infant daughter in the oversized crook of his arm. I saw the strength in her fragility and the tenderness in his weakness. He is as much the guardian of her joy as she is the keeper of his, they balance each other with a language of similarities as distinctive as her dimples or his laugh.
theories & relativity
October 24, 2013 § 2 Comments
In countless ways my children are honest barometers of my behavior; they mirror conduct and echo language, question boundaries and underscore inconsistencies. Wise in the uncluttered wisdom of youth, they challenge me with their uncertainties as they explore the world around them forming independent beliefs relative to their experiences.
This past weekend my son intentionally stationed his laptop in the space next to mine under the pronounced pretense of keeping me company while we completed independent tasks. Once our computers were stowed to the side, he asked if I thought our use of technology validated Einstein’s theory that humans might substitute personal interaction for the convenience of technology.
He phrased his question in such a way that it sounded to my ear as if he were quoting another, who in turn was attempting to quote Einstein. The reference had the tone of a profoundly prophetic but suspiciously false statement; a subtle manipulation disguised as fact. I chose to look beyond the accuracy of the quote, holding tightly to the question beneath the reference relative to the child challenging a theory with his observations and beliefs, experiences and values.
A seeker of truths and scientifically minded soul who is a passionate advocate of technology, my son moves through his days hyper-attuned to social mannerisms with the practiced but clumsy authority of one immersed in a second language. Social skills are frequently a source of frustration, exhaustive and contradictory. Technology more often offers an escape from the muddled gray area of social behavior. For my son to introduce the subject of technology as a substitute for social interaction while subtly demonstrating with his behavior an appreciation for my company over screen time was a moment worthy of pause.
There were no cookie cutter categories of correctness, no trite summation of the conflict or tidy balance of pros and cons. There were, instead, instinctive reactions to and interpretations of appropriate use of technology. Our questions were fluid and our answers open-ended.
In light of our conversation I find myself more consciously choosing the company of those in my presence, challenging myself to maintain a mindfulness of the delicate balance between intimate personal exchanges and the enrichments afforded our experiences through responsible use of contemporary conveniences; more in tune to my children’s perspectives as they hold a mirror to my choices relative to their questions.
marie
October 22, 2013 § 11 Comments
As a child I always felt my name a misnomer of self. My first and middle names were my grandmother’s and mother’s middle names respectively; an inheritance that wore like an ill-fitting hand-me-down.
It wasn’t until I became accustomed to the more formal acknowledgment of my married name and the well-favored endearment of Mom, that the informal commonness of my first name evolved into a small indulgence. I have grown to appreciate the unruffled simplicity of my name more mindful of the relationships and experiences that are forever spelled out in its letters.
Now, here, there is a rustling of desire to adhere my name more possessively to my written identity; too intimate in nature to be casually referenced by an alternate expression. What was once a simple exercise in letting go has become a more meaningful practice of holding on, scribbling my name more intentionally into the text of my story.
truss & tenderness
October 20, 2013 § 6 Comments
Homes are built from an intricate architecture that molds common materials into a dwelling of souls; bricks and beams relative in strength to the material that holds the weight of individual pieces in a harmony of intentions. A home’s inhabitants, too, are greater than a collection of beautiful individuals; they are fluid expressions of commitments founded in love and reinforced with care.
This weekend I am dwelling in the sight of my husband’s handwriting scattered in the corners of our home and bearing endearments in his absence. Humble scraps of paper made indulgent for the act of gathering one another into a moment even when separated by place and time. Understated gestures of love that are the mortar to exceptional moments of marriage.
measure of a man
October 19, 2013 § 6 Comments
This morning I woke my son early, interrupting our sleepy Saturday routine to deliver him to his high school placement exam. Over an ambitiously balanced breakfast neither of us mentioned the test. It sat between us, an unarguable fact; one step in a path predetermined by impersonal policies to place each child in an academic environment boasting a climate of challenge that might mold students for futures whose success is gauged by graphs of accomplishment.
For my part, I believe tests to be largely subjective measurements of individual mastery void of an ability to capture the character of the student in neatly shaded circles. Still, I respect that this experience is part of a system within which we participate and so I encourage best efforts without weighing my children’s worth in sterile scores intended to measure ability and predict potential. Both children are directed to greet each challenge with a fearlessness to try and a willingness to fail in an effort to succeed. It is with this understanding that my son moved through his morning, mindful of the test and eager to be finished.
The restless waiting that punctuated the time between breakfast and our departure was a medley of directionless busyness. My son resisted the temptation to sneak beneath the still mussed covers of his bed, instead perusing the pile of bedside books for a title to accompany him to his test. Setting aside my half-hearted efforts to tidy the mess of our morning meal I skimmed my son’s book selection from over his shoulder inviting a casual conversation about the subject, his hero, Stephen Hawking.
In our last moments before leaving the house my son directed me to a dog-eared video interview, elaborating on text with technology, eagerly highlighting the following words of wisdom:
“One, remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Two, never give up work. Work gives you meaning and purpose and life is empty without it. Three, if you are lucky enough to find love, remember it is there and don’t throw it away.” – Stephen Hawking
I marveled at the reverence with which my son hung on each counsel, his eyes tender and his presence still. A peaceful consciousness was with him when we parted ways and it sat between us later as we lingered over lunch. It followed us as we squandered an hour of a perfect autumn day looping lazily around a local lake and it was with him still as he gathered a friend into our day, their voices drifting to my ear as I finally tackled the task of tidying the kitchen for the evening meal.
These three truths centered our day and gifted me a beautiful memory; my son’s compass more telling than the scores that map a future we cannot yet see for the stars.
to my daughter
October 17, 2013 § 6 Comments
This week you made yourself small, moving into your space so quietly I almost didn’t hear you leaving for the noise of your big brother’s needs. You gifted him my time and attention generously, but in your absence I saw our truth. Yours and mine.
Each of us circle your brother’s needs; drawn by an emotional gravity we fill the empty and wounded places with self, sacrificing wants and needs for a sense of responsibility and obligation. Often we are lost to the path of his experience, while looking over our shoulder at the places where we set aside our plans to better carry the weight of our collective worries.
Know this: In the moments you feel most lost to the pull of your brother’s story, pushed into the cluttered ring of stars in the darkest sky, I see your light. You are never forgotten.
Love, Mom
sight unseen
October 15, 2013 § 4 Comments
Sometimes I stand witness to moments that allow me to acknowledge pieces of self others cannot see. Personal truths filtered by expectations and assumptions can breed disappointment and frustration, understanding obscured by emotions. Knowing and being known a trick of sight.
Recently I caught a reflection of self in the actions of another. A teacher whose defensiveness alienated efforts to assist in classroom complications is really exploring a path I, too, once struggled against. I remember listening as teachers requested classroom change that seemed to undermine our family’s academic goals for our son. I couldn’t hear the kindness beneath their frustration because I was holding tightly to an image of success I couldn’t see past. Change aligned with failure when, in fact, without change success was impossible. Those teachers weathered my denial and resistance with kindness. They saw me as a mother navigating fears with good intentions and misinformation; never once loosing sight of my ability to create positive change as an intricate member of my son’s team of educators. This legacy of faith allows me to look past defensiveness, gathering the sharp corners of resistance into the trajectory of academic success.
Other times it is in feeling unseen that I look more closely at others; bumping into myself quite accidentally. A friend so lost to their own worries they cannot see the sadness behind my own forced smile became an opportunity for me to set aside my needs to be present for another’s heartache. Invisibility shining a light onto compassion. Sometimes a person cannot see clearly for the mask of bravery obscuring sight; blocking out the light that informs understanding. When I feel misplaced in my relationships it is often easiest to begin from a place of friendship, giving first what I most need. This one act gifting me sight of the places I am most mired in self, blinded by my own needs.
Sometimes I have only to look around more mindfully of my place among others. Individuals whose strength and conviction sometimes overwhelms me until I make myself smaller; weighing my significance against the accomplishments of another rather than standing tall in my experiences so that I can better appreciate my unique place of importance among those I admire. This ability to find beauty and belonging another gift of sight; removing undertones of competitiveness and replacing comparisons with inspiration to reach more confidently toward moments of self-realization and selfless acknowledgment of those around me.
Nowhere is sight of self and selfless sight more important than at home; seeing and being seen with a kindness that allows each imperfect piece to make us more whole.
In much the same way I might watch a stream of strangers passing through a congested train station, constructing stories from tiny details potentially insignificant to their personal truths, I sometimes lose sight of those closest to me for the busy details of our days. It is a messy exercise, detangling myself from expectations of those I love to better see those I most want to gift sight of self; removing filters of emotions and assumptions to see the individual beneath behaviors.
These thoughts have chased around my mind these past couple days challenging assumptions and begging me to gather a moment of sight to guide me when I cannot find my way. An incomplete series of questions rattling around my certainties, pushing against images of self and understanding of others, creating light and space for new knowing.
scribblechic 