remember me
October 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The convenience of social networking has created a web of nostalgia that stretches old memories into relationships. We become friends, anew. This curious affection born of the past and strewn so delicately amid the details of our days suggests that it is not another’s affirmation we seek, but pieces of ourselves.
This experience of gathering the old among the new has gifted me forgotten memories and misplaced friendships. In the time between passing notes in high school hallways and parenting school age children I wandered from the familiar territory of childhood friendships, loosing little landmarks of self. I have rediscovered these treasures in letters that travel over time.
Some friendships slipped naturally into the fabric of my days, others I visited, some remain relegated to the past. In each discovery I find little truths that resonate with a clarity that reverberates over the years.
Still there exists a beautiful distortion of self in this web of memories. I remember you a precursor to exaggerated flattery. Let’s remember one another as we were, allowing for adolescent awkwardness. When our paths cross I want to laugh at my own mistakes and celebrate the journey that has made me who I am. Like tiny scars from old lessons, I am comfortable with the past. The contrast of old dreams and growing pains makes the present more beautiful for the truth of the journey.
investing time
September 22, 2012 § 4 Comments
This week I structured my days more intentionally, dividing my hours with a conscious appreciation for relationships. By week’s end I feel a gratifying sense of connection among those who are most important to me.
I began with a promise and commitment to myself. For one hour each day I gifted myself time to exercise. The practice of running has become an act of meditation for me; in motion I am more peaceful, my thoughts more cohesive. This small investment in myself became the foundation for my week, centering myself before sharing pieces of my day with others. A sense of serenity inspired greater energy and attention to areas where I could improve upon other relationships.
The first realization came late one night while my children procrastinated over their bedtime routines. It occurred to me that my children did not fully appreciate the value of these routines for their father and I as a couple. This week I placed our needs into expectations. I outlined for both children the importance of a healthy marriage to happy parents, identifying the quiet couple time in the evenings as essential rather than optional. I asked our children to demonstrate respect by honoring our evening routines that their father and I may end our days connected with conversation, rest, and sharing.
As a measure of thanks for this time alone in the evening, I recommitted myself to connecting with each child during simple moments like homework, mealtime, and extracurricular activities; each opportunities that lend themselves to easy, unforced conversations. These touch points of our days are necessary indulgences I dare not compromise.
Perhaps the greatest change to my week involved an increased effort to share my days with friends. More than speaking I listened, laughed, and settled into hugs rather than settling for e-mail messages and texts. My absence from home left some household tasks undone, but my children and husband embraced new opportunities to connect as they explored pockets of time together without me. Adjusting my days to encompass exercises in friendship highlighted this area of my life as assumed and overlooked. Loving friends without demonstrating appreciation by sharing time leaves these precious relationships unbalanced and undervalued.
The world did not challenge these small adjustments to my daily agenda. Greeting each day more aware of each relationship my days were richer for the investment of time.
busy body
September 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The past two weeks have felt a little frenzied, my predictable pattern of activities adjusted to accommodate additional commitments. The experience of stepping outside my routine lent me an occasion to reflect on the busyness.
The first adjustment came in the form of a fall fundraising activity for my daughter’s elementary school where I joined Kindergarten classrooms, encouraging pint-sized Picassos to create concrete manifestations of their limitless imaginations. Colorful conversations over crayon sketches were charming compilations of curious questions and unedited statements of self. This happy diversion from my daily tasks shifted the balance of quieter, individual pursuits and I quickly sacrificed morning runs along with errands.
The sound of the school bell seemed to mock me as I then raced to scavenge our kitchen for meals. Having lost the time I often use to gather ingredients for a more spontaneous menu, I found myself planning ahead for family dinner. I was planning my time and moving more productively, but something was missing from the new routine.
I cut short the nagging at my subconscious that I was overlooking an essential piece of my days and pushed forward determinedly. Our long standing quiet school nights were turned upside down by enrolling both children in extracurricular activities. In an effort to create opportunities for individual interests to balance the expectations of academics we allowed each child to select one physical activity and one social activity. We are learning to divide our time between homework, family dinners, play, and practice. This adjustment has underscored my need for patience and the absence of stillness.
As we approached the weekend, we supplemented lazy afternoons for time with friends in an effort to recapture lingering pieces of summer. After a busy week this meant letting go of housekeeping expectations for homemaking efforts, spending more attention on the quality of time shared rather than the appearance of a perfectly maintained house. I relaxed into time with friends aware the work of our home was undone.
Last night I attended a committee meeting for a school-parent topic, finding my way into another new experience. Facing a personal fear of public speaking, I set aside my nerves placing myself in a more vulnerable position in the interest of an honest dialogue with strangers. Where normally I weigh my thoughts in writing, in this new setting I am trusting others to listen while I sound out my uncertainties.
Returning home from the meeting, at the end of these busy weeks, I measured my tired mind, body, and spirit conscious that despite my best intentions to challenge and inspire each of my family to embrace full days I had lost valuable pieces of my routine that lend me resilience and center my actions; simple acts of self-care amid the busyness of the day. I have learned I must create an unbending structure of care allowing therapeutic moments of stillness and meditative movement. Time among friends must be balanced with time alone; pausing to exercise, read, and write are essential to my well-being. In the busyness of these past weeks happy discoveries and an appreciation for change has fostered a greater awareness of self. I needed to make room for new activities to appreciate the absence of activity. I needed to make peace with discomfort to become more comfortable with new endeavors. I need to allow myself moments of happiness on busy days ever mindful of the value of time.
to my younger self
July 9, 2012 § Leave a comment
There will come a day that you no longer feel the music beneath your fingers. You will set aside dancing shoes and tuck away your crayons trying to fit into your expectations of adulthood. I wish I were beside you to lead you back to a piano bench, to unpack your art supplies, and to partner you in song. These expressions of self are essential to your spirit. You will find them again waiting for you in motherhood.
Years from now your fingers and eyes will no longer translate music from paper to sound, but your heart will still answer to a piano. Your childhood dance shoes will be a memory stored in long forgotten recital pictures now aged with yellow edges, but you will dance with your children filling the kitchen with sound and smiles. Art was always an intimate endeavor and your hesitant sketches will become simple gestures of affection that adorn your son and daughter’s school lunches.
I can no more prevent you from letting go than I can keep you from holding on to these small pieces of yourself. So, nestle this knowledge close and remember always to play. Just as your encourage your children to believe in their dreams and make room for joy, lead them by example.
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.
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.
color & style
January 14, 2012 § 1 Comment
Last week I introduced the subject of design as I began working with a patient and talented woman to create a more personal style for my blog. Behind each design choice I found occasion to learn something new about myself. I thought I would pause to note these moments of insight layered between lines of messages exchanged over color and style.
Communication is cluttered with assumptions, largely my own. Working with a stranger and attempting to define myself with broad statements of color preferences created unique inferences with color. Initially I wanted to create a serene space centered in neutrals that conjured calming colors of a quiet, isolated beach. I avoided this description as it felt cliché. Instead, I inferred with statements of color. I listed gray, brown, green, blue without naming the warm sands or tranquil waters in my mind’s eye. Lost in translation, I referenced a site dedicated to inspiring palettes and found myself drawn to combinations outside my assumed favorites, but amusingly familiar to elements in my everyday life.
Style is a feeling. Where I inferred with color, I gave long winded references to personal preferences trying to project my sense of style. I listed elements of design in my home hoping to draw on decisions I have already made. Wood floors, stone materials, contemporary fixtures; clean lines and earth tones. I elaborated by unpacking my wardrobe trying to accessorize my personality with articles of clothing. I described my affinity for a cotton t-shirt and well-worn jeans with flip flops and my grown-up standards of pencil skirts and tailored dresses; casual and comfortable contrasting elegant and contemporary. Like pieces of my home or closet, choosing elements of design is less logical and more instinctive; a personal fit.
When in doubt, trust my gut. Underneath all of my assumptions and expectations, shades of truth were written in black and white. The things I did not like were clear with knee jerk honesty. Even elements I specifically requested did not always resonate. I was tempted to question friends for guidance, only to realize I was hiding behind others’ opinions. Of all the lessons in this exercise, this one was most humbling. When defining myself, I turned to others rather than inwards. I look outside myself for what I can only find within. This revelation lead to exercises in speaking up and being patient.
Working with a stranger on a personal project requires honesty and patience. There are days when we say nothing and days we exchange messages back and forth mucking through details. Having never met and without a relationship upon which to draw assumptions, opinions are at once uniquely intimate and impersonal. We are not friends who can hurt one another’s feelings yet each design is personal. This lovely stranger offers me beautiful options and I look among them for a reflection of self, learning a little about myself along the way.
for joy
January 13, 2012 § 2 Comments
I was very young when I declared to my parents and a family friend that I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. My step mother was an elementary school teacher and this afforded me the gift of visiting a school in the quiet months of summer. I have a deep affinity for the space of classrooms, knowledge resting among the walls and tucked in reference books for the finding. My childhood declaration was met with doubt and adult reminders that prioritized monetary gain over dreams. I did what children do, I hid my wish keeping it safe from judgment until it was forgotten.
By the time I left for college, my future was mapped with others’ shoulds: You should be an attorney. I studied in preparation for law school; choosing classes dense with reading and writing, subjects that were diverse and demanded critical thought. I was hiding among subjects that I loved; my spirit whispering over others’ shouts. I was immersed in books that inspired me, sharing thoughts among peers and professors that lit fires in the quiet corners of my mind.
Then, before committing to a career, I became a mother. Each day I wake to life lessons and opportunities to guide my children. I gather them on adventures into books that push at the boundaries of their world. My tiny students with unique needs perpetually lead me to structure spontaneous lessons to help them understand their world. I am inspired and challenged on a path where I am neither teacher nor lawyer, ironically spending my days teaching and advocating for my children as I navigate school work and legal rights in an effort to provide for my children’s needs. My childhood dream found direction in motherhood.
As my children share their dreams, I try consciously to celebrate their statements of self. I want them to listen carefully to the whispers that come from within and to chart their lives with choices that resonate and bring them joy. I try to do this with words married with action, here. I am teaching my children to make room for joy in their lives, while creating moments of joy for myself.
For as long as I can remember I have written letters. Quick notes passed in classrooms, summer letters to school friends, love letters tied with heartstrings, and dreams scribbled in the margins of my days. I write for clarity and for joy. My children know that I do this and that writing is an expression that brings me happiness and comfort in the way building with LEGOs and creating artwork bring them pleasure and peace.
Slowly, I have invited my words to become a larger piece of my life. I do this cautiously, carrying with me an uncertainty born of those early statements of self among family and friends. I began here, where few could connect my words to myself, sheltering my feelings of joy from judgment. I still hear others’ shoulds. Throughout my life others have said: You should write. Should seems to shadow my joy, expectations suffocating pleasure. I have begun to internalize others’ opinions of how, what, when, why I write as measurements against which I gauge my ability and validate my efforts.
Then something special happened. My husband discovered pieces of me he didn’t know between the lines of my posts. My son serendipitously discovered a post and kept reading, celebrating my words with a hug. My daughter exclaimed proudly to a friend, my mother writes. People I love began to identify me by something I love to do.
I know my husband wishes this act of writing could evolve into a larger piece of our life, that someone would happily stumble into my words and open a door to something else. I know these are logical wishes and that his faith in me is a source of love. I am still growing, learning and dreaming; uncertain how to define why, how, when, and what. I am happy for a place to store my thoughts, for my children, for some day, for me. I write to invite joy and dreams into my day.
just say ouch
September 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
Stubbed toe, paper cut, minor burn; in each instance we instinctively flinch, move to protect or comfort ourselves, and say ouch. It occurs to me that there are other moments when speaking our mind is coded in etiquette, covering up genuine feeling with good behavior. I can’t, I wish I could, maybe next time seem like fantastic, dramatic versions of no. Instead of speaking my truth, I often say yes and then carry the burden of my own self-induced discomfort. I am learning to say no, but the lessons along the way have left me feeling a little sore and muttering ouch.
I spent the first several years of my married life distorting my own opinions, wishes, and needs to accommodate the expectations of my mother-in-law. I was determined to please and escape the stereotypical power struggle. Instead, I created an unrealistic expectation of agreeability that has haunted me ever since. The late introduction of the word no deemed mean spirited rather than an expression of different needs.
I am equally certain I have friends that think I like particular hobbies or collectables because my polite conversation was void of any word resembling no. I am so fascinated and inspired by the diverse group of women in my life that I will nod amiably to garner their company rather than risk differentiating myself by just saying no.
Today, sitting in a room full of bright, thoughtful women, that give generously of their time to our elementary school I wondered how many of them are overextended because somewhere along the way saying no was deemed selfish. This thought distracted me throughout our noon meeting as I considered the familiar faces of the volunteers. Despite the variety of fundraisers or academic events, it seems the same names find their way onto each list. This year, I stepped back from a couple of my previous responsibilities for personal reasons; logical, valid reasons that suddenly felt selfish in the company of other mothers. I began to feel guilty for using the word no even though speaking it gave me peace.
I have no clear answer, but I cannot seem to shrug the question of how do we express ourselves genuinely without alienating people we love and while acknowledging our own unique needs?
individual inspiration
August 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
One person, inspiring a connection that forever changes the trajectory of a lifetime. I wonder, who would that be for each of us?
For some it could be a spiritual connection. Identifying with a belief that transpires time and fosters faith, unseen and universal. A sense of belonging to an ideology that draws strangers together in worship and action.
Perhaps others would make a romantic connection, identifying “The One.” A first love, old love, new love, unrequited love, or spouse. Finding a sense of belonging in another.
As a mother I cannot imagine my life without my children. There is an innocent, all-consuming love; their joy and pain felt as my own.
Friendship, platonic love that shelters us in moments of difficulty and celebrates us; guides us and balances us. The kind souls that we turn to without hesitation for understanding even when we cannot find words.
Then there is self-love. What if we never met ourselves; accepted our challenges and acknowledged our strengths? Would other relationships be the same if we never truly knew ourselves?
I am hesitant to place the burden of my destiny in another. I cannot imagine my story without the multitude of personalities that have led me to the present moment. I wonder, can anyone choose one person or identify one relationship that changes everything?
scribblechic 