written wishes
February 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
This week my daughter’s school celebrated the multicultural diversity of our community with an evening dedicated to honoring the customs of our school’s families. A photojournalist shared his extensive travels; eclectic collections of music were performed and traditional dances demonstrated; art activities and game stations provided an occasion to learn through play; the library was littered with fairy tales from across the world. Around each corner the building was bustling with curiosity and acceptance.
Making my way among the displays shared by families from our school I found myself drawn to a cardboard wall sprinkled with tiny pieces of paper and messages scribbled in the whimsical penmanship of children. A dear friend had contrived a mock Wishing Wall engaging student’s curiosity for her culture by encouraging them to write a wish for the world and then placing it on the wall.
A wish.
My heart swelled and something resonated in the quiet unconscious corners of my mind. In the chaos of a school function I felt myself emotionally drawn to more than an endearing exercise that shared a custom from a different culture. The gift of giving voice to a wish weighted me serenely in a place centered in the written word. The feeling of peace followed me home after a joyful evening of learning and sharing.
The next day my heart full of wishes I came across another sharing. An author I respect and admire shared an article about creating and using a God Box, a safe vessel to store written prayers. I found this lesson on letting go of hopes and fears with faith on Facebook. Much like the space of a crowded gymnasium, I was amused to uncover a moment of spiritual insight outside a traditional place of worship, but acknowledged the relevance of a timely chorus giving voice to a personal moment of growth rippling the surface of my consciousness.
I have come to believe life, God, the universe speaks to us in moments of uncertainty lending us the wisdom of the wind. Truths that fill the air around us and as old as time itself. In these moments my heart swells and I pause to center my spirit, acknowledging the power of listening to silence around me. In these moments of awakening I try to uncover the value of an unexpected lesson.
My heart has been heavy recently with concerns outside of my control. My spirit centered peacefully welcoming the suggestion of giving voice to my deepest hopes and fears in the simple act of writing them and letting go in faith. I won’t name these private hopes and fears, rather I want to acknowledge the beauty of lessons woven intricately into the fabric of our daily activities with a wish for each of you: Be still. Listen. Be present that you hear your own lessons whispered to your heart. Know when to give voice to that which you cannot control and let go in faith.
wish lists & inspiration
December 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
Throughout the year as my children stumble across new items of interest I instruct them gently to create a wish list. To set their hopes firmly on paper so that they may return to an item and contrast it among other wishes, editing their wants with a more concrete perspective. Some items are spontaneous and fleeting, quickly forgotten and never cemented in writing. Others linger throughout seasons and inspire plans and daydreams.
As the holiday season drew near, I asked my children to consider their wish lists and share a wish with Santa and a couple wishes with family that we might all know better where their interests rest. Amusingly, lists and letters to Santa sat incomplete. My son couldn’t put a finger on a wish. My daughter shifted focus to what the rest of us might appreciate. My husband shrugged his shoulders and I could not come up with a singular suggestion for myself. We are content, as is.
With this in mind I shifted my focus from fulfilling a wish, to creating something joyful. I turned off the television and refused to allow clever advertising campaigns to cast false dreams. I began with new lists centered in recent conversations and then considered how I might inspire creativity or celebrate individual interests.
I imagined gifts that might fill Christmas day with happy surprises and activities; toys that fit into the space of my children’s days and would feel at home among old favorites; well-loved book titles and things to make rather than things already made in another’s vision. The gifts are not excessive or extravagant, but wrapping them I was filled with anticipation for my children’s reactions.
wishes and wants
September 3, 2011 § 1 Comment
I have simple wishes. On my birthday I wish for the company of my husband and children, the anticipation of cake, and handmade cards from my children. Predictably, each year my husband asks what I want for my birthday. I want my wishes to come true.
I love a happy surprise wrapped in a bow, but tokens of affection have little value if unaccompanied by sentiment. I want to wake up to cuddles from my children and to share an easy day of togetherness without arguments or anxiety. I want to spend each meal distracted by a sugary confection tucked away for later. Despite my love of beautiful stationery, I want to read my children’s wishes woven around art that fills the blank spaces of homemade cards.
Friends sometimes fill the day with treats, my preference is time. I have no need for gifts, I rather share a meal or conversation. Time is an indulgence, most of us too busy to sit still, but it is my favorite gift: the company of people I love and the sound of their laughter.
Inevitably someone will ask how old I am. There are those that antagonize over a number: age, weight, IQ, income. I prefer undefined anonymity. I scatter my numbers to the wind, happy to let go of such boundaries and definitions. On my birthday I am no different, I think less of the progression of time and more of sentiment. I cherish birthdays past and stay present, uhurried as I look to the future.
In the days following, someone will ask if I had a nice day or if I received everything I wanted. The answer is: most days my wishes come true, I am rich in the blessings of family and friends.
retail therapy
March 21, 2011 § Leave a comment
My children host philosophical debates concerning the necessity of a new item. It began when my son was old enough to string thoughts into wishes, I would require he provide me three good reasons why the item in question was needed. I was trying to engage my son in practical exercises in logic, but often I found myself lost in a web of creative thinking. Bemused customers would sometimes follow us, smiling at the lengthy logic that would ensue.
This is where value rests, somewhere between wishes and needs. I have said for as long as my children would listen: If you have everything, there is nothing to wish for. Often I find wishing a greater indulgence than the luxury of having. Wishes are boundless.
I have my mother to thank for my sense of value. As a single mother juggling multiple jobs she overspent in an effort to provide my brother and I wishes fulfilled. My mother met each day with tireless endeavors to gift us sources of joy. I understood late the emptiness of things, but thankfully learned early enough to appreciate the value of my mother’s efforts. I carry my wishes like a list of reasons to dream and achieve. I remind my children that no does not always mean never, it sometimes means make a list, dream, and work hard. This is one of my greatest wishes for my children, for them to grasp their dreams and create a meaningful reality.
scribblechic 