The Exception

Welcome to the Jungle

2012-02-01T17:32:00.001-05:00

There are days when I will pull just about anything out of my hat to lighten the mood, create a smile, or just break the general seriousness of the office.
Today it was "Hey, are you old enough to remember REM?"
Now it didn't matter to me that the man I posed this question to is my age or that REM didn't end its run of music making in the 80s, all that mattered was that we were talking and chatting about something not so serious.
The conversation that followed was quite interesting. The woman next to me commented that one of their songs was the "big thing" in 6th grade *sigh* but hey, she remembers REM.
My memories of REM are diverse. I remember them in college and maybe a bit earlier or later than that. My strongest memory of them is dancing with a Swedish guy to REM in a retro pub/club in Dublin. now that is what I remember most about REM.
Monday another woman brought in a little noise maker that talks when you hit it...
And other women have ensured that there is a huge supply of chocolate on the front desk.
one would think that we are in the midst of the coldest and snowiest winter on record - but we are actually just a bunch of people dealing with a stressful (due to people) office situation... trying to bring in as many smiles as possible.
"I think we should put a sign on the office door, 'Welcome to the Jungle.' "
That idea was very popular, at least people visiting would be prepared.
I always think, "I can survive anything for short periods of time." But now I am realizing that it is one thing to survive, it is something else to do it with others... and when you are all doing what you can to bring smiles and laughter to the situation... all the better!

Perceptions

2012-01-26T19:22:00.000-05:00

it is January
it is the end of January... and I am about to venture outside without a coat.
I am sitting in my favorite seat, looking out the window, and reminding myself that I came here without a coat; I haven't worn a coat all day; and the temperature is only supposed to increase as the night progresses. I am fine without a coat.
Yet there is something about it being night in January in DC that leaves me wanting, even if I am not wearing, a coat.
*sigh*
Perceptions -
it is January in DC and therefore I perceive that I need a coat even if I don't.
My new manager perceives that she is being left out of everything as a result of her own insecurities over any sense of reality.
And I am perceiving myself as "old" even though there is no real reason for this outside the realization that I might not be as young as I often feel.
Today I was, in a round about way, reminded that age is only part of the story; that perceptions might seem and feel real, but they are... perceptions that aren't always based on reality.

A New Way of Working

2012-01-25T18:23:00.001-05:00

"Hey" she took the seat next to me ready to burst with the news of the morning; News I didn't hear as we were quickly joined by others and the talk turned to doctors and cancer and the importance of actually making time to go to the OB/GYN despite our busy working mom schedules.
I sit tonight thinking as I have for the past few nights - how my work environment has altered.
Sure, i am in a new building, new people, new spaces... new people coming and going with different personalities.
But there is a change that is more atmospheric than any of that.
I went from a place of complete ease and comfort as a woman working in an all male environment to an environment where there seems to be no difference between men and women.
And that sounds weird, even as I type it, it sounds weird.
When working with men in the past, there has been a difference between the sexes. I don't mean overt and "out there" difference. it is more subtle in that it is carriage, confidence, experience. It is an ease of words and comfort with self - and maybe that is the result of working with retired military men?
And now... I am not sure if the guy next to me or the one around the corner realizes that I am female. I am not even sure that I realize he is male.
We are, as strange as it sounds, a group of professionals all sharing a building and a room and a job that has to be done.
There is no casual flirtation that often happens when women work with men.
There is no real male joking around.
And the language... clean as you can imagine outside of the office managers.
I could wear a sexy low cut dress or an uptight all black suit... and I am not sure anyone would actually know the difference.
Which leaves me wondering if we just don't have the time to look at one another or to know one another? Do we just not have the time to relax and build teams?
Do we just not care?
Given I spent the first part of my career disliking men looking at my chest over my eyes in a professional environment and considered myself a person with a brain over just a body... This is quite a new and odd feeling for me. i am now what I wanted to be... a professional, like many others... in a room of professionals. A brain with a body that is neither noticed or not noticed.
So I kicked off my shoes today and thought - I wonder if anyone will notice? And if they did, I will never know!

Is Integrity Worth Nothing?

2012-01-24T18:33:00.001-05:00

"Integrity is worth nothing."
His words shook me to the core, and I am shaking my head in disagreement before the idea has even left his mouth.
Integrity is not dead; it is not worthless; it is alive and thriving in my house if not in the world at large.
However, when I look at my world, I see a political environment that lacks integrity, a business world that lacks integrity, and i am no longer in a relationship with a man who lacks integrity.
I thought I grew up in a world where a person's word was their honor, and people accepted responsibility for their actions and their choices. We held ourselves accountable even if no one else did.
The idea was always to be true to yourself.
That is how I raise my child.
But I see the lack of integrity
I feel its absence
And I wonder what happened to integrity? What happened to us in that we seem to prefer a life without it?

2012 Already

2012-01-12T18:46:00.000-05:00

Heels click down marble floors
We dodge people as we make our way to join the line for morning coffees.
And I am reminded that no matter how difficult or frustrating the job might be at times... it is often those with whom we work that provide a silver lining.
At one time I dreaded the idea of working in a cube
And now I can't imagine not working with the voice and laughter that come from beyond the curtain or from my back.
Having long been a lone wolf, it is amusing, to me, that I now enjoy the companionship and the group dynamics of the open office.
Me, the lone wolf, the one person of my team who has actively pursued team relationships.
Maturity?
Growing up?
It is funny as I know so many that move into their shells with age and increased comfort with self.
With increased comfort of self, I am merged into the group as a confident and enthusiastic member of the team.
I entered 2011 with the full realization that I was open to the possibilities
And i had no clue what the future would hold or how it would evolve.
Oh, what a way to have embraced 2011 as I never could have or would have predicted landing here or the path that brought me to this point.
2012 may be more about finding balance in so many parts of my life; for me, my home, and my daughter.
A few weeks ago I met a 95 year old man as spry as a much younger man. His secret to life, he happily shared, to wake every morning knowing it will be the best day ever.
What a wonderful way to start each day.
My teammate arrives at work ready to dislike the job one, more, day. This morning I told her... that there really isn't much we can do about the challenges of the job... but "I am here to learn."
And I remember that man with every day being the best day ever... for me, it is an exciting day because I am ready to learn.
So here's to 2012 - To learning, To finding Balance, and To living each day knowing that it is the best day!

Winter Already?

2011-11-19T12:38:00.000-05:00

"Windy and rainy… Winter's on the way boys!"

I had to smile as I listened to the words spoken in a wonderful and natural rendition of the southerner that the movies often try to replicate but can't succeed.

Winter is on its way, but first there is another month of fall to enjoy.

One day at a time! I am not in a hurry to bring winter and all its beauty or its harshness. And for our area, they are expecting it to be extreme…

"Extremely warm," I tell my daughter as we walk.

She isn't buying it. "I would rather freeze my toes than sweat like crazy (for another few months)."

I think that the child is crazy, but then she doesn't listen to herself complain about the cold for months on end!

There are only a few months in which I don't consider the wonders of moving to a different climate. People really don't move to the DC area for the weather!

And all this runs through my mind as I wait for the clock to hit seven… and for my minutes to turn unlimited and I can let my fingers do the walking and "reach out" to a friend in another time zone in another part of the country.

Let the laughter begin.

A Head Scratcher

2011-11-16T18:32:00.000-05:00

"Please call me if you need to schedule anything as I no longer check e-mail." The words i spoke months ago (and repeated monthly after that) came back to haunt me when I happened to open my work e-mail account last night to find an e-mail requesting scheduling information.

*sigh*

For the record, I once lived on my e-mail account during the day. I disliked any e-mail sitting in it; I responded promptly. Oh how thing have changed!

A few months ago, I changed jobs, changed offices, and promptly informed everyone that I no longer would be able to check that account outside once or twice a week. I ensured that everyone knew my phone number and that the best way to reach me was by phone after business hours, or leave a message and I will return the call. I simply don't e-mail anymore. It is as simple as that. There are lots of things I don't do anymore and communicating via e-mail is one of them. I suppose when you spend hours upon hours communicating and studying communication, the last thing one wants to do is spend more time communicating (note the activity on this blog!)

And everyone listened.

When i check my work account, it is up to a good hundred e-mail, most of which are junk and I have pages that sit read but unanswered or without activity because I take care of it by phone or it requires no action.

My once empty Inbox now is pages worth of e-mail and it doesn't phase me in the slightest!

I simply do not e-mail; I don't write; and I don't know why I need to repeatedly tell the same person that the way to reach me and receive a prompt or timely response is to… call.

. Except…

Except one person.

One person insists on sending an e-mail to an account he knows and has been told I rarely check.

One person, month after month, elects to send words into the air hopefully with the realization that there really isn't anyone checking the account.

One person insists on ignoring my continued reminders that I don't check the account; please call and leave a message.

And I just don't get it???

I suppose that the messages he is leaving once a month aren't of great importance to him in that he knows that there won't be a quick response; there might not be a response for days or longer; and he knows that if it is important, he can call…

So he sends the message, timely as it most often is, with what expectation?

I find the entire thing bewildering.

What to say to a teen?

2011-11-02T18:41:00.001-04:00

"It would be interesting for you to talk to her" a friend tells me, in all seriousness. His high school daughter has found herself in an unhealthy relationship. She communicates with her parents, but knows that her parents would like to see her out of this situation. I have already told the mother that I would be happy and willing to do whatever I can to support this teen, though I am not sure just how I can help other than just being there.
My experience with unhealthy relationships is limited, but strong as both these parents know. But I endured an unhealthy and manipulative relationship for years without really allowing myself to see it. I am not sure I would have seen it had someone pointed it out to me at any point during that time either. This isn't to say I didn't "know" the suffering I was experiencing. it just means that I refused to see it because seeing it, realizing it, would mean that I had to face it and do something about it. And in my case that meant recognizing that one of my core values was more based on my own experience than reality.
Over the years, I lost myself to a great extent. I stopped trusting my intuition and allowed myself to fall into a cycle of boosting another based on their idea of love all the while realizing that it wasn't mine.
Emotionally drained, physically unhealthy... I woke one day to find myself without secure boundaries and manipulated and involved with a passive agressive personality. I found myself choosing that core value over personal integrity and believing that I was doing what was best for my child.
With all this in mind, I wondered what I could share or what I could or can do for a teen who is trusting and entering this phase of her life with an open heart?I have thought about what I give my own daughter; what I would give her in a similar situation?
Would I share with her my experience?
Would I gently ask her questions to help her work through what she is experiencing and what she wants to experience?
Would I ensure, to the best of my ability, that she knows that she is loved and supported no matter what?
I would do all of these things, and I would hope that she has learned from my experiences. I would hope that, unlike me, she has the ability to trust her heart, her intuition, and her boundaries.
yet, without experiences, we don't always know the need for boundaries or where those boundaries lie. We don't always clear our minds to hear our intuition or learn to trust our hearts when they say "jump" or "leave" until we are faced with the situation. And we often don't know what it is to allow people to take responsibility for themselves until we are in a situation that asks us to be emotionally responsible for them.
And what do I say to a teen in the midst of a tough experience?
Maybe I say nothing; I listen, I support, and I demonstrate trust and care.

Too Cold Too Soon

2011-10-28T12:04:00.001-04:00

I woke this morning refreshed - a day off - a day to do nothing but have my hair done. A day for me. What is there not to love about such a day?
Having been out and about, I admit, i am loving my day. I am sitting at my favorite seat at my favorite Starbucks reading the Post and thinking about books and Italy, and reading this and that. The day is gorgeous with vivid blue skies and a smattering of light clouds. Bright splashes of orange and red remind me that it is fall...
It is perfect
The damper on the day, if one can call it that, is the knowledge that a storm is moving our direction bringing with it much cooler (like think january) temperatures and rain.
I am working hard not to worry about that though. i have shorts on and relish the sun...
And do my best to ignore the reality that everyone around me is wearing pants, sweaters, heavy coats, perhaps even hats and mittens or gloves...
It is a very crisp fifty degrees outside - and to look around me of late, it would seem that people have been itching for the moment to come when they can store their summer wear and bundle up... They have done so with great enthusiasm!
Meanwhile, I cling to the last moments of nature's warmth. Shorts and sweatshirt suit me fine today. The cold weather, with long pants and warm clothes, will arrive soon enough, but today... Today I have the day off, the sun is shining, and today is slightly cool graced with a hint of fall.
And I am out enjoying every minute of it!

Too Busy for Compassion??

2011-10-12T11:11:00.002-04:00

I took a fall on Sunday at the mall and this is what happened:
The muscles in my right hand wrenched and twisted as I hit the pavement. A series of trips straight out of a slap-stick comedy resulted in a fall that I don't really remember but I can't really forget. A gorgeous day, a long walk, and then a trip. In typical me fashion, I immediately broke out in a cold sweat and laid down in the nearest safe spot - the middle of the median/walk way.
"Are you okay" the worried voice sounded time and time again. I assured her that I was fine. "You don't look fine" she repeatedly stated.
I am sure that I didn't look "fine" at all... and i was fine. My hand, though completely wrenched and bent in ways hard to imagine, was not broken. But to look at my color and the fact that I couldn't stand up due to my bodies solution to any similar experience... shut down and cold sweat and threaten to faint. "Fine" was not the way it all seemed at the time.
Cars drove by.
People walked by.
I lay; eyes closed; waiting for the blood to return to my body so I could function; and my daughter sat worrying.
"Why isn't anyone stopping?"
"I can't believe no one is stopping!"
"The security guard didn't even stop!"
While she sat concerned for me and stunned that no one was checking to see if I was okay, I realized that I wasn't surprised at al. And that, the knowledge that I didn't expect anyone to offer to help, sticks with me and will likely stay with me long after the muscles have returned to normal in my hand.
What does it take for people to offer to help another today? Have we become so removed from the world or isolated in our own worlds that the sight of a grown woman seemingly passed out on the median in front of a well traveled store with a child sitting doesn't give us pause?
I remember stories about New York city neighborhoods when I was younger where people would close their ears and their eyes and look the other way rather than step forward and risk themselves and help.
I have always had such a difficult time believing these stories.
How can people not reach out to one another to help?
Being disabled, I often receive more offers to help than are necessary. I have become increasingly comfortable with this, simply saying yes or thank you or no and thank you. Similarly, I have become quite comfortable asking for help - most of the time.
I have even experienced a person not helping out - not because he couldn't or didn't have the time or the means, but because of my being me. That situation cut to the quick; negating me in front of my daughter was a numbing experience. However my concern was also for the suffering that such a choice meant. What happens to a soul when we choose to deny or not to respect or to recognize the humanity of another?
When we negate our connectedness to that person?
My daughter witnessed someone treating me like that a few years ago; she won't forget it but I am not sure she fully understood it.
This latest situation, with my being hurt and no one stopping... that she will remember and that she did understand.
How do we teach our children to have compassion and to take risks and to step outside themselves to offer help to others when we don't do these things ourselves?My hand is now safely wrapped in an Ace bandage.
It feels wonderful with the support the bandage provides. My hand will heal before I know it; but, what will happen to my daughter's believe in humanity? Despite what she has seen throughout her life, she has remained a compassion person. Will this be true should she continue to experience similar going forward?

A Day Off?

2011-10-03T12:57:00.001-04:00

"enjoy your day off."
My day off... appointments, phone calls, and paperwork. All things that need to be done but dan't get done due to the normal work day. It is more a day to do "house" or "medical" related things thus it is working differently. But it is a day not in the office; a day that doesn't require changing into heels and dresses and clicking down long halls.
So often I think that the only way for me to get some things done is to take the time off of work, during the week. Weekends are for running around and doing other things. Weekdays seem to be, in my mind, for taking care of business. Not to mention, there are just some things you can't do on weekends - phone calls that can't be made and appointments that can't be kept... so one has little choice but to take a day from the day job to engage in these activities.
I am now down to about a half hours - a bit of time to read, to relax, and to write. A bit of time for catching up on the fun things.
Thus I turn off this computer, relax, and pack my bag with the other computer. Ensure that I have letters and bills to slip into the mail and all the things my daughter and I will need for the rest of the day into this evening.
Even though my "day off" was only about five hours in total... it was time well spent. Tomorrow I am back in the office writing reports and researching. I will click down halls, gaze out windows, and fine tune my ability to block out the noise around me to focus on the words coming across my screen.
But that is tomorrow - today I still have a fewminutes to do my thing!!

Life Happens

2011-09-29T10:24:00.002-04:00

"I think I will come back here and go to sleep in that big chair over there. So if I am not there to pick you up…"

"You will be right there in that chair…" She laughs as she says this as she knows I will be right there to pick her up when her classes are over. She doesn't realize that I am as tired as i am or that I am having a hard time just keeping my eyes open. The idea of another mile to walk and an hour or more of sitting with her as she does her homework is one I elect not to ponder. It wasn't so difficult to pull long hours in the summer when the temperatures were warm and the sun shone more than not. It is another story entirely when I leave the house in the dark and return to the house in the dark… and the temperatures are a warm muggy of late.

But I do it; we do it. We pull the long hours and find time to laugh in the process… and by eight at night, it doesn't take much to have us rolling on the floor in fits of giggles.

A few years ago I felt like i ran all the time; I had no idea what it meant to run all the time! I find myself attempting to reclaim the things that I loved (like writing) and build them into my life again. Life is too short not to make the time to do these little things.

In a matter of weeks, my grandfather has landed back in the hospital and a fifteen year old is going to be a father… And each, though quite separate remind me of the way time passes. My grandfather has lived a full life. Now in his nineties, he is mentally ready to move on but his body is not ready to leave. His life has come full circle. And the boy who will soon find himself a dad… his life is in the beginning of its cycle and he will now celebrate the beginning of another life. In both cases, these males enjoy the support of their families - each family celebrating life; each aware of the challenges.

I sit from my chair in Starbucks and watch the sun sink behind the buildings. One minute it is there then, suddenly, it is gone.

And I have no clue where this post is going but I do know that the sun always reminds me of life. i watch it rise in the morning and set in the evening; continually aware that life happens. I can't imagine being fifteen and having a child; but I know that it happens and families make it work. I can't imagine being in my nineties and having a stroke one day then finding oneself and mentally aware as before but no longer able to communicate or take care of myself; but, it happens.

The sun rises and sets and the trick is to find it within ourselves to laugh or to smile or to see the beauty of something as simple as a smile or as complex as a drop of water.

Despite all the frustration and the anger my grandfather feels at times, he remembers how to laugh and smile. And he is aware he is loved. Despite the fifteen year old dad only being fifteen, he is finding acceptance and love and support within the arms of his family each of whom will celebrate this new life.

And when my daughter comes out of class, I will be there, despite heavy eyelids and a desire to hit the sheets. Life is short, it passes quickly, and one of my priorities is truly to see as much of its beauty as possible - and my daughter is definitely one of life's beauties!

Back to Writing

2011-09-27T18:35:00.001-04:00

Thoughts swirl through my head. When I am not working, I am working through the same issues over and over again - wanting to, at some level, put everything into words and put them out there; to state my mind. Yet, stating my thoughts is not going to make a difference. I say all of this as the reason i started a blog so many years ago was, in a sense, to stop the thoughts that were circling through my head. it was a means of putting them in writing; it was a return to the writing that I love.

Now, years later, I find myself once again with thoughts circling and I have yet to find the nerve to write or the ability to put the thoughts into words. In fact, I have put the writing on hold for the last four months as I change offices and jobs and professions and now schedules and lifestyles.

However, the thoughts continue and the desire to write returns.

I don't know what this blog will look like going forward; but, I realize that writing is as much a part of me as my heart or my lungs.

I don't know what kind of posts I will write in the near future. I can't promise that they will make sense or be complete… I just know that there will be posts. I need to write again for me. I need to write again because I am happier when I write….

And I need to find the means of allowing the circling thoughts out of my head.

Hold on to your seats (if there is anyone left reading) it could be a wild ride...

The Unintended...

2011-09-18T17:20:00.001-04:00

"Your usual five inches" he says as he picks up his comb and runs it through my hair.
I laugh... "Yes, the usual." I am confident that we both know that I never have five inches cut off my hair; that the weight helps control the curl.
he cuts and snips and I relax knowing that I will love my hair when he is done.
No time for a styling tonight - I am in a rush to pick up the ballerina after her class so my hair isn't dried and I leave without having any idea as to how it will look until...
A few hours later I realize that it is quite a bit shorter; quite a bit more curly; and quite a bit lighter.
It is only the next morning that I realize just how much the weight of my hair controled the curls.
I look at myself in the mirror at work... Poof... there is no other way to describe my hair. No frizz (thankfully) and all... poof.
By the time I wake Sunday morning I have large, loopy, soft ringlets and hair that quickly loosens and falls from my french braid.
Change - It seems that this year (and much of this blog of late - have centered around change.
In the last few months, I have faced unemployment twice, experienced my grandfather having another stroke and most recently he started having seizures ; my little girl has started reminding me that she isn't so little anymore...Change... As that not so little girl points out fairly regularly, nohting stays the same - everything changes moment to moment. She is right in that everything is altered; we can't return or pretend that everything remains static.
This weekend I listened to "This I believe" while catching up on podcasts. One of the men observed that we often find ourselves in the midst of change (of the more obvious sort) and beleive that life beyond that point will be miserable or something worse than it would ahve been otherwise. yet, in a blink of an eye we often come to realize that the change was a blessing and because of it we are more and better than we were before.
And how did I get from an unexpectedly short ahir style to life changes?
Well, I would never go in and ask for shorter hair. Not that it isn't fitting on some, but it is never the way I see myself... and yet, here I sit with shorter and quite curly hair. I never thought to hate it or be angry with my stylist. Rather, I had to laugh. Just one more delightful change of the unexpected and unintended variety.
My daughter recently executed a class project in which she had to note her memories and then chart them on a scale of posative 5 to negative 5. For the sake of entertainment, she had me do this exercise too. Interestingly, there were memories or events (big changes) in my life that I found I couldn't score beyond the baseline - 0. They were neither posative or negative, they just were. In many cases, the event was difficult in itself, but the person I am... well, the unintended change turned into an amazing blessing. From the birth of my daughter (totally unintended and a completely wonderful blessing) to the end of my relationship with her father (painful at the time but a signficant blessing and a powerfully eye opening experience).
Change... the simple, the challenging... the planned... the unintended... the unexpected.
I choose to see change as a blessing...
Even when it means signficantly shorter and much curlier hair!!

Embracing "New"

2011-09-06T10:34:00.003-04:00

It's all new.
New school year
New office
New challenges
New opportunities
New perspectives...
New experiences...
As nature begins to settle in for a few months of rest and slumber, our lives return to a more scheduled but far from "same old" phase. It is ballet and work and walks and homework. it is friends and family and rehearsals aplenty. And it is creativity and imagination and a world with its doors open wide inviting us to explore and discover.

I Can!! (And it doesn't have to make sense)

2011-08-26T07:31:00.001-04:00

The sun began to lighten the sky this morning as numbers and statistics chased one another through my mind eagerly attempting to catch my attention, to tell me the stories each wants to share.

I feel the need to pause from the numbers, from the graphs and the percentages, and the world of areas and plots and graphs. I find myself wanting to return to the world of words, if only for a moment.

The wall behind me is glass; one solid window from which I watched the world shiver and roll just days ago. Though rarely here, I have come to call this office home in a way that will remain long after I walk through the door. It is a kind of halfway house – a place between offices; a bit of a safe haven where I have found the space to remember what it is to learn, to grow, and to enjoy working. A place where I am reminded of the wonders of people, their generosity and their quirky personalities… and where I have been “seen.”

My time in this office is short; my days were numbered from the moment I started. That said, I walk into a new world with the full realization that I “can…”

I can…

I am not sure that I have ever appreciated the power of those words as I do now. It is not that I ever doubted that I could do something… it is now the realization that I “can” do it.

A bit gray?

A little bit on the shadowy, nuanced, what in the world is she talking about… side?

When I left university I believed I could do pretty much anything in my field. I wore confidence like a well tailored sheath. Whether I “could” do it or not was lost in the happenings of life and the business world and the awareness that there are often other factors involved that are a bit beyond our control.

Could I do it? Sure, I probably could have… but I didn’t have the chance to try at times.

And now…

Call it maturity, call it life experiences, call it finding something inside of me that is a part of me at the core over being tailored to fit…

Now I just know…

I can!

Joy and the Bitter Sweet

2011-08-04T09:47:00.001-04:00

Earlier this week I stood before a table of books when it hit - I don't remember what it is to have a small child anymore. The wonder of it hit home in a way that I can't truly explain. My daughter is wonderful and fabulous and truly a challenge as she grows into her own person with quite a different perspective and experience than mine; but, she is no longer a child.

I remember the wonder of being pregnant - and I loved being pregnant.

The peace (as there is no other way to describe it) of a child's hand in mine as we walked or the feel of her weight in my arms as we cuddled before she drifted to sleep leaving me contentedly dozing as well.

The young tween that she is now doesn't often resemble that little girl with the head of tossed and twirls of curls. She is all legs and muscles and perception. She is the shy child grown into outgoing confidence who stuns me when she declares that she was a bit uncertain or nervous, but she did it anyway.

Looking at her, mere inches from my adult height, I feel the passing of time and I remember the peace that came with her joyful laughter and her sleeping form.

I remember when I could fix just about anything; when a hug and a kiss made it all better. If it were only that easy now as her thoughts and perceptions and awareness of emotions - her desire to find her way - become a part of her life. I remind myself that now I can't fix it - but I can listen, give her space, and help her to remember the importance of a hug.

This is not to say I don't catch sight of that little girl now and again. She is soft and warm - affectionate and compassionate - and she dances with the butterflies whenever possible. She still holds my hand when we walk, that sense of grounding and security that we might both desire from time to time.

My eyes move from book to book on the table as I seek a title (in paperback) that I have yet to find in the store I wonder if this sad feeling is one that will be with me, in some way, for a while? It is not a sorrow that overwhelms. It is more the bitter sweet sense of realizing that pleasures once enjoyed can not be relived - nor would I want to relive them.

"Your daughter is an amazing dancer." a woman stated to me the next day.

"Thank you" I smiled. My daughter loves to dance; my daughter loves to create; my daughter loves to live - and she is most often amazing at it!!

I savor the memory of my daughter in her smallest forms as I remember, with fondness, the wonders of pregnancy. I look at her and see not only the wonder filled tween she is but the laughing energizer bunny of her past. and I realize, without doubt, that we have adventures awaiting and a world to explore… and that one of the greatest gifts I can give myself and my daughter is to be as mindful of each moment as I can.

Allergy Suggestions???

2011-08-01T14:31:00.000-04:00

Dust mites and dust….

The words don't really surprise me but the impact is one that continues to hit home as I return to my favorite coffee shop after enduring my first allergy test.

How does one rid one's life of dust mites and dust?

The doctor suggested that I could do shots - a series of six in six weeks and then… shots for the rest of my life….

And this isn't the way I want to spend the next forty or fifty years of my life.

yet if I don't have the shots, will my ear ever return to normal?

About a year ago I began to experience pressure (negative) in my ear. it felt as if I had returned to earth from a long flight only to have my ear never clear.

And it has yet to fully clear.

Some days it is more clear than others - but it is never completely rid of the negative pressure.

The doctor suggested that this is either the result of an infection (which I don't have) or an allergy…

Which is why I had an allergy test this morning.

Do I have other allergies… yes, but none of them are as strong as the dust mites and the dust - and it is believed that they are each exacerbated by this base allergy.

So I am now considering my options.

Dust and dust mites are a part of every day life for all of us. Unless we live in a bubble, we have dust and dust mites. They invade our pillows, our bedding, and anything and everything else.

I intend to cleanly pillows post haste and am now quite thankful that the mattresses in my house are now all air mattresses. I also use bamboo sheets - which are supposedly good for allergies though I use them because I love them.

I live in an area that is under construction and development - something that will be a constant for years to come.

Dust is a fact of life….

And yet, if there is anything else I can do to help my body without having to take shots for the rest of my life… I am open to suggestions!!

Flexing my Writing Muscles on a Hot and Steamy Day

2011-07-29T11:22:00.001-04:00

I sit in the bookstore today; heat forcing me inside. Were I only part mermaid…. That is what I thought as we left the house this morning water bloated air as we walked…

There are thoughts running through my head a mile a minute… and this is the third post I have started, the other two not flowing the way I would like.

I wonder now how it is that I once finished posts? It was as if the post would write itself more than I would write it. Beginning, middle, and end… everything kind of structured in my lose, blog way.

Now… well, now it is different. There are those things that I want to write and am not sure I can write in a way that is best understood.

There are those things that circle through my head and are not yet ready to be born on page.

And then there is the reality that I don't feel overly inspired… which is quite odd as I thin about it because I am sitting here, in a bookstore, in the middle of DC - a city that definitely is not short on character or happenings.

I went into the bank today to pay my credit card bill. The tellers are always quite nice and quite interested in sharing information about securing an account with their bank and no longer having to write checks as I could just use online banking or something.

i am a hold out - I do not use online banking; and I still use checks and stamps. And those who receive thank you notes from me or my daughter are possibly surprised that they are handwritten and arrive in an envelope!

Every once in a while I am tempted to do online banking - how much easier it would be to sit at my computer and just "click" and "wow" bills are paid.

Then I remember all the reasons why I continue to use checks and stamps…. and there are lots of reasons but the one I like best is that I like writing the checks; I like paying the bills; I like closing the envelope and sending the payment on its way. In my mind, a check is that much closer to using cash. Although a check isn't exactly "money," there is a feel about it, to me, that is closer to real in that it isn't plastic.

My daughter noted the "Pay by phone" parking in DC yesterday and commented as to how everything is becoming so technical.

Last night I had her buy her sandwich for today with cash. "Why am I using cash?" she asked. "Because it is kind of fun?" I answered.

I appreciate the world that technology offers. I mean, really, I could use online banking and pay my bills from anywhere. I could give up the handwritten thank you and do it via e-mail, as many of my friends have done. (or I could just give up the thank you note completely or do it by twitter?) I could even eliminate cash from my home completely, and checks, and soon enough, even plastic.

But my question becomes, what makes it all real? if we don't see the money pass through our hands, if we don't write the checks, if we start paying for everything with a click of a button linked directly to this or that account… are we really aware of the money that is being paid, the cost, or the significance?

My daughter is at the end of the Net Gen - a generation that is growing up knowing nothing but internet connectedness, social networking, online relationships and challenges…. a generation that lives and breathes technology and networks. In her first level math classes, the teachers were challenged to teach the class about money - dollars, coins, making change… Some of these kids found it a bit challenging as they rarely saw or used cash. How to learn to make change or identify coins and their value if your family doesn't use cash?

it is an evolving world… and one day, likely sooner than later, kids won't know what it is to have a piggy bank or to wonder of the jingle of coins in a pocket.

For work, and for my daughter, I keep up with technology and trends. Whether I choose to use the technology is one thing, knowing about it and having an awareness of the world in which my daughter lives is another.

And there we are, a kind of post for today…. flexing my flexing muscles in a way.

The topic that is really on my mind if you have read this far, is illegitimacy - and it is one that I am not sure how to discuss…

Have a wonderful Friday!

The Bear Went Over the Mountain

2011-07-26T12:38:00.000-04:00

There are days when I fully understand why the bear went over the mountain. the song says that he went to see "what he could see." It sounds as if he was disappointed as it continues that all he could see was… "the other side of the mountain."

Okay, maybe for some, it is a good thing to realize that the other side of the mountain is really… just the other side of the mountain. There aren't castles or rivers made of gold. The other side of the mountain is life; life just on the other side of the mountain.

But… what struck me this morning was that what lies on the other side of the mountain could be beautiful.

Yes, it is just the other side of the same mountain, and the idea behind the song is most like something similar to people learning that the grass might look greener on the other side of the fence, though it likely isn't or it comes with all the challenges that exist on your side of the fence - or equal if not different challenges.

It is that idea that all of our challenges will disappear when we get a new job, when we move to Florida, when we are on vacation, when our kiss graduate from high school…. We are waiting to hit the magic that lies on the other side of the mountain without realizing fully that the other side of the mountain might look different butyl our challenges live within us - not in a situation or a specific physical location. If we want to change things, we have to change the way we think and live - not where we live.

But as I took a turn this morning and headed a direction that was all new to me with the simple thought - I wonder what lies on the other side? I started thinking about said bear.

The song sounds sad - "All that he could see was the other side of the mountain…"

As I walked with the intention of finding out what lay on the other side of this campus, I found myself amazed at what I saw. Gorgeous houses with lovely yards; quiet and peace in a city that isn't known for such things; and a sense of history. Suddenly the entire area took on a new feeling for me.

A few miles later I arrived, weirdly enough as it was not my intent, back where I started having journeyed to the other side and circling the entire campus….

And wow… It was just the other side of the campus… that was what I saw, the other side of the campus.

And yet… I saw so much more.

The song doesn't tell us what the bear actually saw. If he saw new and different trees; if the birds sang a little differently; or if the streams and rivers were as plentiful as those he knew on his side of the mountain. It doesn't tell us if he enjoyed his trip over the mountain.

All that said, it reminds us to make the journey… To stop and make the time to journey up the mountain to see what is there. Sure, it might just be the other side of the mountain, exactly the same as that which he traveled - or it might be totally different. And who knows, it might be easier for the bear to ask an eagle or hawk "What's on the other side of this mountain?" saving him the trip entirely.

But, in the end, he might find himself a better bear for making the trip;for exploring his options;for stretching his legs.. and for seeing, really seeing, the other side of the mountain over asking someone else or over choosing to believe in a life over there that doesn't exist.

This morning I could have dropped an e-mail to a friend who attended the university and asked… What is on the other side? Is it worth the walk? Instead, I took advantage of a low humidity, gorgeous, vacation day… and I went to explore for myself.

What do you think of the bear and his journey to see what was on the other side of the mountain?

Do you journey to see what lies on the other side?

Catching Up

2011-07-22T15:22:00.000-04:00

Today I started a much needed vacation.

It started with a few hours spent straightening my desk, followed by some time spent with a new book. And now, I sit in Starbucks avoiding the DC tropics with numerous other people.

Today I sit remembering what it is to have the time and opportunity to write; and yet, I find myself wordless. This is not unusual as each time I have tried to write a post in the past few weeks… I find that the words flow to a point and then…. there aren't words to finish the post or the thoughts.

I like to think that this is a result of the turns that life has taken. While I no longer express my thoughts here, I am writing and learning and expressing for hours upon hours each day.

It is part o the quest to find balance again; the quest to transition into a life that only vaguely resembles the life I enjoyed just three months ago.

So here I sit, poised to embark upon my much needed vacation. I anticipate hours of writing, reading, and catching up with different parts of my life that were sidelined due to long hours at work and more hours spent living and parenting. i am looking forward to putting thoughts to screen again; to posting a few times; and to reading the wonderful ideas and stories penned by others.

It promises to be a vacation that is just what the doctor ordered - time, no work, and various forms of relaxation.

And hopefully, I will be able to write, to finish thoughts an posts, and remember what it is to find the words flowing from my fingertips on fun and thoughtful topics over work related documents!

let the fun begin.

it is...

2011-06-14T07:38:00.000-04:00

I’m fine….

I grew up with these words.

Everything is “fine.”

It occurred to me, after hearing them for the millionth time a few days ago, that why does it have to be “fine?”

Things aren’t always fine. Sometimes they are less than fine. Sometimes they are so beyond fine that there is no word to describe them.

As my daughter and I stood, both in tears, on Saturday, I heard her say her own “It’s fine” in the form of “It’s okay.”

I turned to her and said, no, it isn’t okay… it just is. It hurts and it is hard and it is challenging… and it isn’t not okay and it isn’t okay, it just is.

Somewhere in the past few weeks I have started to wonder if we use words like okay and fine to remove ourselves from the feelings that we are experience.

Sure, it will work out and things will be “okay” or “fine” if we want to use those words… but why not just say that right now, at this moment, I feel…?

While I stood there with my daughter, she felt frustrated; I felt frustrated; she felt let down and sad; and I felt sorrow and a sense of complete helplessness… and that was how we felt. Those feelings are okay; they are just as real as everything else around us at that moment… and to gloss over them or not allow them; to hide them behind words like fine or okay…

They are what they are

It is what it is

I have had years of experience using logic to attempt to understand my emotional response. Applying rationale and empathy or compassion are wonderful tools that I have employed to deal with them. My guess is that I am not alone in this. One of my dearest friends is a master at it as well. We explain away the feelings which is not exactly denying them but it isn’t exactly allowing and accepting them either.

And I caught myself doing the same with my daughter – helping her rationalize and use logic to come to terms with a situation over allowing her to feel the emotions and sit with them.

We are learning; I am learning. Life is a work in progress.

It is what it is – the feelings the mental gymnastics, the attempts to figure it all out and to have answers or create them when we don’t. It is learning and learning and learning again to sit and “be” over doing everything possible to fill our lives with “doing.”

Equanimity: A State of Balance

2011-06-01T08:18:00.003-04:00

Equanimity

A place of balance; of ease; of peace

I suppose that, more than anything else, equanimity is a sort of grace – or at least that is how I see it as I look over the month of May from beginning to end.

I entered May with unemployment seemingly just around the corner – yet, I remained in a place of openness and balance. It could have been a period of drama and fear; it could have been one of hiding beneath the covers and hoping that a knight in shining armor (why are they always in shining armor) would come and rescue me. It wasn’t.

It was and remains (though I have a wonderful new position) a balanced sense of “ah” and “wonder.” It is kind of this sense that today is today and wow… I wonder what will happen today.

In this sense, equanimity has been a theme of my life in May just as it was the RAOKA theme in May.

This state of equanimity permeated my life and those around me. I have to admit that telling people your contract has ended and that you are soon to be unemployed is kind of like telling people you have the plague or something. They acquire a certain expression… and while some might see how they can help, others… well, not so much.

Add to this the ease with which I talked about my employment… the sense of calm and wonder… and I am not sure actually what people made of it all.

However, that calm and balance kept my life in a sense of grace; that calm and wonder created a wonderful model for my daughter who, despite her discomfort with change, has embraced the employment challenges with a sense of wonder and excitement that mirrors my own.

The changes haven’t been easy in some cases, but we take them as they come – and that balance remains

Equanimity – in having a sense of it myself, I have been able to continue to give to my daughter and those around us. I have likely been more present and fully about the moment for myself and everyone else because of that inner balance. Perhaps equanimity also allows us to see and recognize others more clearly and with an open mind as well.

May – a month of equanimity and surprises…

And I wonder what June will hold?

******

What is RAOKA and How can “you” be a part of this Life altering Team?

The RAOKA mission seeks to remind us that Random Acts of Kick Arse happen all around us—and also to spread the spirit. Each month, us RAOKA team core members vote on a new theme based on your submissions. On the first Wednesday of each month (US time zone) we invite everyone to post about what they have observed, passed along, or created. During the first ten days of the month, contact me with your theme ideas for the next month. I’m the Caretaker& Loving Keeper of The RAOKA Crusade with my core team mates Gayze, M, Joy, Suzie and Zeenat.

Be Involved in RAOKA! If you’d like to become a Random Acts of Kick Arse Crusader—here’s your chance:

-Propose a theme by contacting Zeenathttp://positiveprovocations.com/2011/06/01/equanimity-kung-fu-panda-style-raoka/the first ten days of the month or simply follow along with our monthly themes and spread the Random Acts of Kick Arse!
-Write a post/article about what you have been up to and publish it on the first Wednesday of each month. If you would like a reminder emailed to you each month or would like more information, please Zeenat. If you don’t have a blog, you’re welcome to play along in the comments. -When you see my RAOKA post published, add your details in the Comments below including the URL address of your own RAOKA post and the title of your blog. I will then create a link to your post for others to see what kind of Beautiful Random Acts you’ve been up to.

Window

2011-05-18T08:43:00.000-04:00

When a door closes, another opens or maybe it is a window or wow... look... a sky light! There is a new beginning with every ending; yet, I wonder how often we find ourselves so captivated by the closed door or the ending that we neglect to look around and see what is open to us?

Today I find myself sitting in an office that is far different than the one I moved from just last Friday. The process that brought me here was unusual in its own way in that this is not a position I found; it was a position that found me. It may last just a few weeks or it could last a few years; I am not sure which. I do know that I am finding it exciting and that I have entered this position and this work environment to learn.

And perhaps that is what it is all about – learning.

We spend a lot of time thinking, planning, wishing for something that isn’t so. We spend a vast amount of energy in our heads denying or figuring or analyzing or worrying. How much time do we spend seeing and opening ourselves and giving ourselves space to “learn?”

My new manager stood in my office yesterday as we discussed the mad rush to pick the topics and papers that interested each the most. It is first come first serve to the point that if you snooze, you are left with the areas no one wants to read. I smiled. I smiled and told him, point blank, “I am here to learn.” Sure it is nice to pick and choose the topics that interest each more than others, but what an opportunity to learn about the new and different. Not to mention that everything is, at some point, connected. It is the well rounded and read position that I want to occupy.

Thus, in two days, I have traveled around the world and read on topics that I would not have explored on my own. I have watched storms roll in from my windows and basked in the wonder of natural light. I have chatted with new people, wondered over different coffees, and only shed a few tears… tears not of regret but of a feeling that comes when a baby bird takes flight for the first time or a child takes its first steps.

New beginnings…

Creativity; It's a Way of Life

2011-05-03T16:01:00.001-04:00

I am not sure what my life would look like without creativity; I am not sure what I would do were my daughter not a kid who lives in her “right” brain. Together, we are a house and a family of creative energy – that energy takes many different forms and extends beyond the walls and windows of our home. It is more than the buckets and bins of drawing tools and paper scattered about our house or the various musical instruments both factory and hand created. It is larger than the flowers and plants and herbs that grace our balcony in summer and add life to our house in winter. And it stretches beyond the creative masterpieces that emerge from our kitchen on any given morning or weekend late afternoon.

Our creativity is a part of our everyday lives; but, it is also something that we share with the people in our lives and our community.

I have heard several a person comment that they are not creative. In this they have an understanding that to create and to be creative is to engage in the arts – to bring that which is imagined to life on paper, in words, in music, or in action. But “create” is far more broad than this limited definition. I am amazed at the technology that is created every day (TED is a great place to see this in action). Or the amazing ways people create safety and security for themselves or for others.

And it takes just a walk outside or listening carefully to the wind or the birds… amazing creative energy.

April was a month of creating for me – creating space for new beginnings both in my own life and in our house. It was a month of learning and creating using words in a more formal format; a month of working to create a sense of balance and acceptance for my daughter and myself as things transition into the unknown.

I believe that we have choices – that life gives us opportunity after opportunity to create something different or to create more of ourselves in a way. We are faced with hardships; we have the room to create our response and choose the way forward. We can find ways to make lemonade or we can stand motionless next to a pile of lemons or we can decide to be angry that we weren’t given oranges. The idea is that we create with what we have and generate accordingly.

We create; we choose; we generate… and as we move forward we are creating for the world at large. My daughter creates wonderful drawings to send to relatives, encourages the friends in her class, and generates smiles wherever she goes. Together we recognize the people around us and genuinely wish them well and give them thanks for all their efforts or their kindness.

So when people tell me they aren’t creative – I wonder if they don’t realize all the wonder that they create each day; each moment; and with each thought.

Creating is about getting your hand wet and playing in the paint or the mud; and it is about choosing to make choices and seeing people for who they are… human beings just like each of us. ****

This month’s RAOKA theme was create; next month’s theme is Equanimity. For more information on RAOKA or to read more Create posts - take a few minutes to click over and visit the lovely Zeenat - our wonder filled RAOKA host!!

Days Left

2011-04-29T10:18:00.000-04:00

My days in this office are drawing to a close and… it feels weird.

Most of the office that was me is no longer here to the point that to enter would be not to know much of the person who sits at this desk and types at this computer beyond the person being a proud parent. My daughter’s colorful drawings will grace these walls until the moments before I close the door for the last time in a few days. It is a strange feeling; an exciting feeling; and one that I find difficult to put into words. It is as if I am throwing my hands into the air as the coaster tops the highest peak… and just letting it all go.

“We need to have a celebration” my daughter commented as I remarked on the days left before life changes, in visible ways, once again….

And a celebration we will have.

For right now though, there is still work to be done, cleaning to happen, and moving to occur. There are good-byes to be said… and there are memories to acknowledge and enjoy. So much life and laughter and tears has happened here – I am ready to move forth; yet, I am thankful for all that I have experienced in this office, in this place….

And so.... What Does it Mean and Where do I go from here?

2011-04-25T09:26:00.000-04:00

As my daughter worked her way through a hot yoga class, I sat in the lobby enjoying the silence and then chatting with a yoga teacher. I learned that she is not only from my home state but also has her degree in the same field as do I - and she gave up the degree and everything involved to teach yoga full time.

And for her it is working.

Not only is it working, but she is loving life.

"What is it you always wanted to do?" she asks

The answer is one I have difficult stating because it is orthodox and yet unconventional. I am coming to terms with the idea though and the reality that from the time I was younger, I have wanted to teach.

And yet, the idea of me teaching a classroom full of kids is beyond imagination.

SO often the word teacher immediately brings to mind kids of differing ages screaming and controlling a classroom. It is the vision of the current school systems struggling to keep good teachers and actually figure out how to teach kids under tight budgets and changing ideas as to what is education.

It is the frustration that they experience, teachers that is, as they are forced to teach to tests; watch kids limited due to the current education environment; and given little respect by the governments or the public at large. One need only look at the money allotted to the department of education to see the priority that we, as Americans, place on this institution or making it better.

But teaching is more than that.

It is what we do as parents. It is often what we do as friends or as people. It is what we do on the job if we are so inclined. Teaching is a gift that we give to those around us whether we are teachers or not.

A friend of mine is a natural teacher - which means that he is a great person, friend, and manager. he is not a trained teacher but time spent with him is a lesson on life. He is a leader; a manager; a teacher.

It is not too out of the question for me to sit and think, from the earliest moment I can remember, I wanted to teach. In my relationships, I attempt to teach. The yoga teacher commented on how wonderfully I have taught my daughter.

I am, at heart, a teacher. And perhaps that is a reflection of my desire to give and share as much as it is a product of my being a student?

So, what does all of this mean? And when I figure that out - where do I go from here??

Highlights; Inspiration; and on being without Words

2011-04-15T11:17:00.000-04:00

I am a mish mash of emotions and actions. Singing from pure energetic enthusiasm as to the possibilities and what the next part of the year holds with my mind connecting dots as to how this will work and how it will feel and seeing other possibilities… to fatigue verging on sadness and maybe tinged with a little fear or anxiety that takes the form of “what if?”

My emotions and thoughts are scattered; finding the words to speak seems exhausting at times so to find words to write… it just doesn’t happen much lately. I sit down to write and find… there is just nothing to say… and that is an odd feeling.

It isn’t as if I haven’t found amazing inspiration in the happenings of the day. I need only look outside to see tulips of all colors appearing as if out of nowhere or feel the breeze drifting through the open window because, yes, it is now warm enough to have the windows open and feel comfortable with the temperatures.

And the different articles I am reading… it is amazing what people are writing that both inspire and leave me wanting to respond with my own thoughts and ideas. Scott wrote Art of the Shove which had me thinking about the people who I have pushed out of the nest, those that have refused to be pushed out of the nest… and all those times I have thrown myself over the edge of the nest or found the universe giving me a great shove (like now) suggesting that “enough is enough” and “it is time!”

Hillary is writing a series of wonderful posts about her beloved country with beautiful pictures. Her writing is always enlightening, and this challenge is a delight to read.

And how I wanted to sink my teeth into Zen and the Art of Simplicity by Diana who speaks to a part of my heart that has lain dormant for quite a number of years. Growing up in a small town near the top of a mountain, the last thing I wanted to do was to spend my life in a rural area. My heart, I believed, belonged in the city. Yet, with time and the overwhelming nature of busy, politics, and inability to do anything without party “black and white” coming into the conversation, it didn’t surprise me when the small town girl silently raised her hand and questioned whether it is time to consider a different way of life. So if that job in Sardinia opens and I am offered the position…

*sigh*

For today, for now, I am here. This is my life. I keep reminding myself that this is where I am and I do love my life though I am making changes and creating it a new. I am listening to that small town girl who wants a more simple and slower life; I am embracing the risks that are involved with the shoves I am experiencing; and I am noting the wonders of Virginia as it comes to life in every way possible. I am reminding myself that I am creating in ways that are not yet visible, but because I am creating in those ways, I am not creating through writing as I once did or as I will again.

That said, I return to the buzz of party politics; right and wrong; black and white; and know that there are wondrous and fabulous and inspiring people out there who see the texture, live in the moment, and offer inspiration, often without realizing that they are doing so… and those mentioned above are just three of them. Check out Today’s Meanderings for so many more!!

A Wonderful Day to Everyone!

2011-04-11T10:35:00.000-04:00

Today, this gorgeous taste of summer morning, I was supposed to be at a meeting.

Having to drop my daughter at school early, I took a moment to grab coffee and sit down to check e-mail only to find that… the meeting has been changed to Wednesday…

Only to find that on this morning, this warm, breezy, delightful morning, I am free.

It doesn’t take much to leave me smiling these days. It is as though I have been waiting all winter to burst forth and explore; to blossom and bloom.

Tank and shorts, tennis shoes, a day with a few hours of being on my own to do the little things I want to do to prepare for Easter –

Friendly smiles, the sounds of people sharing laughter,

The desire to sit and write a post and say “hello” to everyone out there… and send them all wondrously warm thoughts and wishes!!

The desire to inspire, to be inspired, to feel inspiration… and to set forth and make dreams come true.

Today, this day, feels ripe with possibilities.

And perhaps it is where I am; perhaps it is April and my life seeming to change in wonderful ways in April; or perhaps it is this taste of summer and nature’s assurances that all will be okay…

And then again, it could just be that I am in a toe –tapping, soft hearted, love filled state of being!

Whatever it is…

Have a wonderful day!

Remedy for Stress

2011-04-06T11:02:00.000-04:00

Sunday afternoon arrived with clearing of the sky and the return of the sun. And I smiled. The wind swept away feelings of stress and craziness leaving a more relaxed me in their place.

For the first time in a couple weeks, I was connected with nature. We were back on the streets, traveling the sidewalks, and padding through neighborhoods. I felt like I could breathe. I felt connected.

Connected…

Connected to the world at large; connected to nature; connected to me.

This connection seems to eliminate stress in my life. It seems to act as a kind of reminder that there is space and time to relax, to step, to find beauty, and to breathe – all things that directly oppose stress, deadlines, and criticisms.

As I consider the month of March and how stress played a role, it becomes apparent that much of the stress I felt had roots in technology, the disconnection between my life and nature during the month, and the ease (and perhaps desire) with which people have disconnected from the world around them as a result of e-mail, texting, and other advances.

Perhaps this disconnected way of living eliminates stress for them?

For me, it did just the opposite. Moving from house to car to office to car to business to house… I felt my nerves tangle and become raw.

The weeks of human interaction being only about words appearing in my inbox – both of ease and because people don’t want to connect – I find myself saying, typing, thinking, “Give me a call” “Can we talk about this?”

What is happening in that we are more connected to machines and more comfortable with that interaction than we are with other human beings or the world at large?

And so I walk

I fight with the umbrella when the rain is lashing and the wind teasing and taunts.

I raise my head to take in the purity of the blue sky and the lightness of the clouds.

I listen to the frogs sing their spring serenades and thrill with the chirping of the birds, barking of the dogs, and laughter of the children playing on newly mowed grass.

And I pick up the phone and talk.

I listen to the words of others and see them.

I connect with people and nature…

And I feel stress less…

RAOKA this month was about stress – ways of eliminating stress

We each have different ways of viewing stress and singular ways of working through it. For me, it is connecting to nature, to people, and to myself. I hadn’t realized how connecting to these things eliminated stress until March – and now I can’t imagine how I didn’t see my “connectedness therapy” for stress before.

If you are interested in participating in RAOKA, click over to chat with the lovely and fabulous Zeenat!

Fluid

2011-03-30T13:19:00.001-04:00

“Fluid”

There is no better word to describe my life right now than “Fluid.”

Every day, it seems, there is something new or a different window opens. I am, at the same time, exhausted and energetic; anxious and hopeful; afraid and excited.

Life is fluid, there is just no other way to put it.

After spending the first few days of this week and the last few days of last week running and thinking and “doing,” I find myself with a little more time to breathe at the moment.

And I am taking advantage of it.

Of late I have taken great interest in the creative world… Not art exactly but the different creative things that people are doing; the risks they are taking; and the ideas that they are turning into reality. It is wonderful to see and serves as a wonderful example as to the things that we can do (and do ) every day.

It reminds me that there is life out there that is not rooted in controversy, politics, and budgets!!

And that is something I not only love but believe is worth sharing.

Today it is something fluid –

Today it is a Living Sea Sculpture that is designed to help rebuild and vitalize – something that adds hope to a life form that is diminishing in numbers for various reasons.

It is about helping to establish a foundation for an ecosystem that we have, often without thought, destroyed.

It is fluid – It is ocean and life and nature. It is hopeful and embracing change. It is choosing to create and design something that doesn’t destroy but lifts and provides hope.

And all of that is something I embrace right now – at this fluid point in my own life.

Ten Truths - Thank you Sarah Kay

2011-03-21T11:13:00.000-04:00

This morning I woke to find lightening dancing through the skies. I watched the storm pass and delighted in the brilliance and the whispering of the rain against the house. The morning, the day, started fresh.

I am reminded that each day is a new beginning.

I am reminded to lift my head toward the skies, open my eyes and my arms, and embrace all that appears over crouching behind an umbrella and burying my head in a jacket in an attempt to keep the world, and all that it is, away.

The world is quite unsettled at this time – not only in Japan and New Zealand, but also in my own little world. While I am delighted with the possibilities and the change that is upon us, I am aware of the uncertainty that surrounds us and the discomfort that this creates for my daughter.

While part of me is very much alive; another part feels the responsibilities.

This morning, as I sat preparing documents, I heard Sarah Kay, spoken poet, speak. Inspiring, amazing, delighting, and again reminding of all that is possible. One of the exercises she uses with her students is “list” writing. She asks them to draft a list of ten things they know to be true. In this list, not only do they learn a little about themselves, but they learn and see that some points on their lists are similar to the lists of others… and other people have points that offer new perspectives. The exercise is a beginning of poetry writing, and it is one that allows for people to see and learn from one another.

So today, this rainy and yet sunny Monday, I will write my list of ten thing that, today, at this moment, I know to be true.

Ten Things I know to be True

Change is consistent

The sun will shine

Chocolate is delicious

Learning is exciting; and there is so much to learn

Silence is really golden

Walking or spending time in nature can change moods

Sometimes feeling alone is overwhelming, whether that aloneness is a true condition or not

Risks offer treasures

There is great comfort in holding a hand

An open hart allows flowers to bloom.

There is something amazing about finding and seeing the brilliance of others…

And…

My daughter is awesome. I know that takes me to twelve’s, but my daughter really is awesome (as is her mom, I might add) and I can’t have a list of truths without including her brilliance!

And now – Do you have truths on this Monday… the first Monday in spring?

Living by Example

2011-03-15T10:35:00.000-04:00

“The power of Anger” – Molly’s title jumped from my computer screen this morning.

I read the first parts of the post and found myself empathizing. I have been there; been involved in a mutual agreement only to find that the other party changed his mind and neglected to clue me in on that change. I know the anger that she might have felt or something similar. And, like her, my anger is quick the flair and ends just as it started.

The point of her post was not about the anger though – it was about the love that anchors.

Molly and her ex-husband are friends. Both seemingly understand why their marriage ended and yet neither have the desire to have a divorced/co-parenting relationship that is filled with anger, hostility, or aggression. Molly writes that they state their continued love for one another frequently. Not love as in the romantic love – but love as in love . That latter love being durable and unconditional and something of which we are all capable and yet we deny ourselves .

Generally speaking, Americans have a notion of love that is more about belonging or owning… about insecurity. The idea that we give love to one person and only one person and they can only give it back to us and there is no room for anyone else because to love another is to diminish the love or potentially end the relationship.

I have tried to understand this idea.

It has yet to make sense to me.

Reading Molly’s words, I am frequently reminded of my own ideas. Despite all the water under the bridge and the challenges weathered, I freely voice that I love my daughter’s father. This means that I care what happens to him, I wish him happiness and peace, I respect his boundaries, accept him for all that he is and isn’t…. and I accept and embrace the role that he plays in my life and my daughter’s. Does it mean anything romantic…No. It is the love I have for people, for dear friends who have moved on, and for those who have touched my life .

And it is an emotion that is mine to give. Perhaps it is selfish as I feel that I would suffer more to deny that love or repress it than to state it and share it?

But it is because I have this softened heart toward him that I can tell my daughter stories; that I can feel compassion for her and empathize with her; and that I am open to working with him over working against him.

I would like to say that I enjoy a friendship with him as Molly describes, but I don’t.

I don’t know too many who have a relationship like Molly describes. I do believe, however, it is possible. It just takes two to be open to the potential.

I am raising my daughter to see, as Molly and her ex seemingly illustrate – that love is love. It doesn’t mean romance or territory or property. It doesn’t mean everyone is happy and smiling all the time. It doesn’t even mean that people see one another or live together or get along. We give love because it is who we are. This isn’t an easy lesson for a child just as it isn’t always easy for adults. But it is a lesson that I model the best I can.

It Started with a Story

2011-03-07T08:46:00.000-05:00

Walking in my house is somewhat like entering a small, mom and pop, bookstore; there are books everywhere. And in everywhere, I mean everywhere as they occupy any flat space we can find. The piles, boxes and shelves subtly proclaim “A Reader lives here.” As I watch the books reproducing faster than cats or rabbits, I offer my daughter (time and time again) an e-reader – AKA, an unlimited electronic bookshelve. She declines the offer each time as she loves a book in her hand, turning paper pages, and the sight of the type on the written page.

Her love of books isn’t just about the books though; the written story, that is. She loves the audio versions of print books. She loves storytellers!

This winter, the two of us have found delight in the storytellers and their tales we have found on podcasts – The New Yorker fiction, Selected Shorts, and The Moth.

One night we gathered on the bed and settled in for a storytelling session with The Moth. Within minutes we lost track of time, absorbed completely in the story being told, the picture unfolding within each of our imaginations. She sat, chin propped on hands, curled in blanket, absorbing the words and images. I sat next to her, crocheting, completely unaware of the stitches or the work of my hands. The words of the speaker sending chills through my body and goose bumps over my skin. The same story found me sitting at my computer next day researching the speaker, his foundation, and The Moth itself.

Who had our rapt attention?

Alan Rabinowitz –of Panthera. His story is both poignant and beautiful. I found myself thinking – I want to work with him; I want to help! (But of course, I want to work for The Moth too and help save the art of storytelling… and I am genuine about both desires)

My daughter and I share a house with cats, so my being drawn to a story of a man and jaguars and big cats and something magic that happened probably isn’t surprising to many. My daughter shares my love of cats (of all sizes.) She really saw her first tiger when she was 8 months old. I don’t mean that she hadn’t seen a tiger before, but she really “saw” the tiger at that point. She thought the massive cat was the greatest piece of magic on earth – bursting into joyful laughter and squeals of delight as she watched him, not wanting to leave his presence. If my daughter grows up to work with animals, of any size, I will not be surprised.

The magic of Rabinowitz’ story goes beyond the connection he made with jaguars – It revolves around what a child, with a severe speaking challenge was able to do… It is the story of how one person, just one, can make a difference. And he has made a difference for big cats, ecosystems, and communities. Rabinowitz continues to educate, discover, and provide refuge for big cats.

Rather than attempt to tell the story of this man and his journey, I urge you to hear his story in his own words and voice; Man and Beast.

We each have stories to tell. Some of us get caught in the stories of our lives using them as a means of holding us back or reminding us why we are where we are. This story, Alan’s story, is one that blows those theories that we tell ourselves away. One man, one woman, one child… each of us can make a difference!

Rabinowitz now works with many Big Cats, Please check them out!

For pictures of my daughter’s beautiful and magic tigers and a project to keep the Tigers Forever… click on the links.

You can find the Panthera Blog here.

Warmth - Inside and Out

2011-03-02T10:21:00.003-05:00

He stands before me, t-shirt and jeans, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. Yet here he is. And I find myself wondering if there is any warmth in his life? If he ever feels wrapped in warmth such that he can relax his guard, kick back, and just… be?

I will likely never have an answer to my questions, but I hope that he feels warmth in his life again as I know he once did. I know that I can infuse my surroundings and life with as much warmth as possible, and maybe, just maybe, that will thaw those who are around me, if only just a bit.

Warmth… My daughter spotted the first blooms of spring on a tree behind our house this morning, the latter part of February being warm enough to provoke the trees to waken from their winter slumber.

Our cats are often found basking in the sun or sitting by windows soaking up the warmth and possibly anticipating a day when the windows will once again open allowing them that much closer to the birds and the feel of wind in their fur.

My daughter and I shed winter coats favoring sweat shirts and jackets, enjoying our walks and the play of sun in the trees and shadows cast on sidewalks and lawns.

The world around us is warming from a somewhat chill filled winter… I celebrate this warmth and find myself drawn to the warmth that we can give to others.

Sometimes the most amazing feeling in the world, no matter the weather, is a warm exchange between people – a hug, a smile, the acknowledgement of a lifted hand or a friendly wave.

We can give warmth with a genuine invitation to someone into our homes or our lives or… the community. Warmth is spread through gratitude, appreciation, and acknowledging others and by staying open to see the wonder of each and the world.

My guess is that we each know what it is to feel a little cold inside; my guess is that we all have felt the warmth that comes from a hand held, a hug, a little help, compassion… That feeling we have when we are with someone or in a place that loves us and holds us no matter what.

Warmth…

What brings warmth to your life?

How do you give warmth to others?

***
RAOKA is founded on the idea that we can do little things to make a difference. The little things in life, the little things that we all can do and do daily – like laughter, express passion, gratitude… These acts are noted by various people in accordance with a theme chosen each month. The theme for February is "Warmth"!

If you are interested in participating in the RAOKA movement, please contact Zeenat, the lovely keeper of the RAOKA torch!

Other Raoka Crusaders and their WARMTH submissions(

~Tim @ 360 Degree Self wrote RAOKA: Palm Tree State of Mind
~Gayze @ Gazehounds Animal Communications wrote RAOKA for February: Warmth

Straight from the Future

2011-02-24T09:27:00.001-05:00

The days of February have proven to be a bit unpredictable – from 3 days of 70F weather to an exercise in creative CV writing to attending a Fundraiser I didn’t expect to attend… February as proven unpredictably uplifting and full of experiences. I even discovered the world of Pod Casts, connecting me to RTE Ireland, a treasure once enjoyed and then forgotten and now rediscovered!

February, in other words, has proven to be similar to January in that I have found being open to life to be the only way to live. There seems to be no room for expectation or the “same old” in 2011… and there is something that encourages me to think that the rest of the year will continue to flow accordingly suggesting that I can expect the unexpected!

The year is about “inspiration” and creating and being open. I find myself creating a CV over drafting a résumé; engaging in different activities; and opening myself over and over again to what life offers.

In this spirit, I am undertaking a different kind of post. I’m drafting, or creating, a letter from the future to someone describing my 2011. I suppose I am just writing my holiday letter a few (try ten) months in advance! Though I have written letters similar to this in the past, I have never tried this exactly… but why not??!!

24 February 2012

Dear Lori –

This morning I sat down and sorted through folder of poetry. I was delighted to find works penned about a year ago as inspired by your work. The forms of poetry you introduced on your site are delightful and have brought much to my life. Thank you.

This past year has been one of many changes. Looking back I have to smile as it feels like I have come a long way in such a short period of time. My house has transformed into one of much space and room. We love it. There was much light before, but now there seems to be even more. My flowers and cats have flourished – as has the kid who is growing and blossoming into even more love than one could imagine.

Professionally abundance flows! A change of positions in the middle of last year resulted in wonderful opportunities for more thinking and creating while I maintained the flexibility and location that allowed me to thoroughly enjoy being a mom. These professional changes also resulted in more financial freedom and opportunities of more theater and travel. We are spending part of this summer on the Mediterranean; very exciting.

In retrospect, 2011 was definitely a year of change. Thankfully I went into the year with an open mind, prepared to enjoy the opportunities as they appeared as there were many!

I hope that this finds you enjoying a wonderful year and preparing for a glorious spring filled with love and adventure.

Thank you Lori, for your words, your support, and your enthusiasm… and your continually fabulous posts!

Stay amazed…

This letter and idea were inspired by:

Make Great Things Happen; A Letter to Your Future Self

Can a Résumé be Unique?

2011-02-16T10:20:00.000-05:00

The document sits before me – black text on white background. I sigh and look over the words, the format, the general look and feel – Is there enough white space? Reminding myself that this is “just a draft” I close the document. I will look for words later when I have a fresh mind; I will find words that capture more than those I have currently chosen.

Later, between conversations and bits of laughter, I find myself contemplating the document, not looking for more robust and descriptive words, but considering if there is a way to infuse the text with life?

The document is my resume, one of the more dry pieces I have drafted in years.

It does exactly what it is meant to do, list and document an outline of the work done and the skill set I have acquired. It feels generic in that I do not know if it does anything to reflect my energy, outlook, innovative spirit, or creativity.

Thus the challenge –

How to energize my résumé and intrigue the reader?

How do I make this document about me?

Lost in a Fog

2011-02-08T11:15:00.000-05:00

The world in which I live is a fog of pink and red and sugary mist. Everywhere I turn, it is as if I have left the cold and gray days of February and landed somewhere in Candy Land. I am not sure it is because I have been working through a low grade fever for a bit now or if, perhaps, Valentine’s Day is approaching?

Or maybe it is both?

I remember Valentine’s day as a child – the little candies and cards stuffed into boxes or decorated holders on our desks – The delight in receiving the funny cards. *sigh*

I can’t remember when the day began to take an emotional turn in that the type of card received or the flowers, gifts, or chocolate made a difference? That the feelings of another were captured and reflected in this one day a year. It started somewhere in youth – that attachment to the emotional side of the celebration of Valentine’s Day… and for many, it is carried into adulthood. I know plenty of women who are quite attached to what they “receive” on 14 February and men who don’t meet the mark or go through a great deal of stress trying to live up to the expectations of the day.

I am just not sure that I understand why?

Why women place so much on this day?

Why men stress out about it?

Why there is an expectation that the love expressed on 14 February is defining? Why we believe that love is reflected in the expense of the gift or the dinner or the material aspects of this date?

“Love is for everyday” I answered the questions of my daughter that echo my own above, as we entered a balloon and heart filled store awash with every color of red and pink one could imagine.

This is what I believe – it is what I am hoping my daughter will remember when push comes to shove and one day a man works late on Valentine’s day or doesn’t give her a diamond or there is no “love” in the picture at all.

Love is more than a box of chocolates or diamonds or cards or a fancy dinner. I am not sure that any of those things are love no matter how we might want them to be.
Love is the every day, the sharing, the caring, the time spent together… the respect, the compassion the honesty

It is fun to celebrate Valentine’s day and become lost in the sugary pink sweetness…

And it is fun to celebrate love each and every day, not just a day in the middle of February.

Beginning Anew

2011-02-02T10:56:00.003-05:00

Many believe that each New Year’s Day is the time to begin anew. They set goals, establish resolutions, and embrace the new year with a different attitude. Others might do this on a birthday or anniversary, both marking the beginning of a new year; each offering a chance for a new beginning.

Of course, each minute of each day – each morning as the sun rises into the sky – there is opportunity for a new beginning.

Today is 2 February. It is a Wednesday with temperatures that celebrate Groundhog Day in true style as they climb into the 50’s. It is the first day I have spent a significant amount of time outside the walls of my house – my daughter’s first day back at school. For the past week we have been enjoying the warmth and company of one another as the area was rocked by snow canceling schools and closing roads. It was nothing like the Midwest is experiencing now, but it was enough to have an impact; enough for me to smile as I walked into the office building this morning and celebrate today as a new beginning!

When I consider the idea of new beginnings, the RAOKA theme for January, I find myself reviewing a series of months that are about beginning anew, time and time again. In the past I felt like I would take a step forward only to then take two steps back… and there were days when I felt I took two steps forward only to take another step back. But each step, each time I started again, it was a new beginning.

As the months have passed and my steps have become more sure – I find myself learning to start anew with a breath – a simple inhale and exhale or a pause in which I can center myself and focus on the moment at hand. I find the new beginnings are mine to be had. Perhaps it is the increased awareness of the impermanence of objects and thoughts that allows me to feel these new beginnings. Perhaps it is the opening of my heart and mind and the detachment. Perhaps it is the reality of age and maturity taking hold as I am no longer the 20 something burning the candle at both ends driven to have life work my way… though I am not sure that I was ever that person.

In reflection of the last 4 decades – new beginnings have come in fairly significant forms – education, experience, exposure to diversity, information, career, pregnancy, transformed adult relationships…Each event or change has offered the opportunity to start anew – to detach, let go, and recognize the fluidity of life or its impermanence.

Other new beginnings seem small; yet perhaps, they are larger as they often result in a shift that defies words. They are the new beginnings that result from stopping, listening, softening, compassion, suffering… the living in the moment new beginnings that we can embrace each day if we choose.

Today, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow suggesting that spring will arrive early this year. Spring, an illustration of new beginnings and new life. I love spring for all that it is and the wonderful colors and warmth. I don’t believe I am typing this, but today, after the mess of the weather of the last few days and the disaster that is the area sidewalks, I will admit that I love winter too. There is something about the brightness of the snow and the awareness of the importance of the dormant periods for nature, that remind us to take a breath, to be still and silent, and to know that the choice to begin anew is mine (each of ours) at each exhale.

RAOKA is founded on the idea that we can do little things to make a difference. The little things in life, the little things that we all can do and do daily – like laughter, express passion, gratitude… These acts are noted by various people in accordance with a theme chosen each month. The theme for January is "New Beginnings"!

If you are interested in participating in the RAOKA movement, please contact Zeenat, the lovely keeper of the RAOKA torch!

Closing Your Eyes and Letting Go

2011-01-25T10:42:00.000-05:00

When my daughter was younger, she watched a show set in Ireland called “Jakers.” One of the episodes I loved was about a girl who loved to dance. She wasn’t good at it, but she loved to dance… and so dance she did. Full of life and passion and delight – this character danced regardless of the opinions of those around her. She danced.

This was, at one point, my daughter. She danced for the pure love of dancing. At some point the feelings and opinions of others started nibbling at the fringes of her awareness. Would she “fit in” better if she played soccer and gave up dancing? Why put her effort into it if no one appreciated her work or recognized her improvement? And why do those other dancers stare? At some point she started focusing on the external validation or appreciation; her attention was no longer the love of dancing but the views of others.

Perhaps this is human and to be expected?

Perhaps we each go through the phases, some arriving at the other side with the full understanding that external validation is fickle and shallow while throwing ourselves into what we love and doing it for ourselves is where the beauty lies? How often do we give up what we love in search of that “fitting in” or the external validation?

Reading what others write and having spoken to people from various walks of life, it seems that the majority of us have lost sight of what we love doing for various reasons. Many adults seem to have misplaced that list of things that filled their hearts with joy when they were younger – and kids around here aren’t really given the chance to find passions of their own which doesn’t seem to bode well for future adults. Still others are entering their middle ages ready to embrace their passions – adding to their lives those things that they left behind years ago – or finding new passions and delights.

I consider who I am today, do I fill my life with activities that I love? Did I give up anything to “fit in” or for the desire to find external validation or praise? And is this a phase that we each go through at different times as I know that I am the best parent I can be and yet… I have wanted the external appreciation and recognition of others; not needing to hear it but wanting that for myself. However, it didn’t come and I moved on continuing to be the best I could be and doing it because I love it.

As I talked to my daughter, and as I type this, it occurs to me that the challenge might not be in realizing that filling our lives with the things we love doing – and doing them for ourselves – is desirable and healthy and fulfilling and a part of personal integrity… The challenge might be in recognizing this at a heart level such that we can let go of the desire for “fitting in” or external recognition and validation. It is in taking that leap off the cliff and just dancing and singing and playing and writing with every part of the heart and little awareness, if any, as to the opinions of others... and no desire to know what they are thinking or who is looking!

Perhaps it is all about closing your eyes, hearing the music, and letting go!

Happy Talk - and Dreams

2011-01-20T09:16:00.000-05:00

Happy talk, keep talking happy talk

Talk about things you'd like to do

You gotta have a dream, if you don't have a dream

How you gonna have a dream come true?

-South Pacific

The song floated from the stage and directly into my heart. “If you don’t have a dream…” How could a dream come true?

I read lots about people having dreams – taking ideas and making them happen.

I love it and think that their effort is wonderful and their ability to take the risks that are often involved in making dreams come true – or even giving dreams a chance.

What about my dreams? Do I dream and Can I make those dreams come true?

This is a question that I have asked myself on and off for the last few years. My dreams have changed from those I enjoyed when I was younger; or in graduate school; or a new parent; or even a few years ago when, in the end, I am not sure that I had dreams. Well, not really as I have continuously dreamed of the parent I want to be and that is a dream I am living and fulfilling daily!

But more than parenting – what about my dreams?

The words of the song encircle me like a warm blanket on these cold January days gently reminding me that there is magic in dreams. How have I let this idea out of my sight? I encourage my daughter to dream and eagerly support the dreams of friends and others believing that anything is possible; and yet, I have not taken much time to allow myself the freedom to dream.

Perhaps that isn’t true. The reality might be that I haven’t allowed myself to look at my dreams and try them on for size!

Because, really, I have dreams.

The funny thing about dreams though, when it comes to me, is the awareness that if I allow myself to see the dreams and let them out to play, I have to take the steps to fulfill them. I am not one that can inactively dream. The idea of having the dream of writing a cookbook or opening a little café or living in another country or starting a business and not actively working to birth or create it seems foreign to me. It is easier just to “not dream” than to take the risks required in making a dream a reality.

Yet, how long can a person live like that? How long can I pretend that I don’t have dreams beyond being the best parent possible?

How can I teach my daughter to reach to the stars and journey toward her dreams if I deny my own experiences to that end?

Modeling hard work and dream fulfillment and taking the risk are not possible if I don’t do them myself…

So that is what I am doing!

This year, 2011, my word of intention is “Inspire” in all its forms. And I feel and am inspired to take steps to fulfill dreams!

I am not only talking “Happy Talk” but I am dreaming because without dreams, I can’t make them happen… and this is the year when I make them happen or learn the lessons that the journey of that risk offers!

I am a little nervous and a lot excited… and I write this with a smile that reflects the warmth in my heart. It is going to be quite a year – a year when dreams come true.

Brilliance

2011-01-13T11:59:00.001-05:00

“Brilliance!”

This is a great word. It seems to shine off the page just as fluidly as it rolls off the tongue. “Brilliance!”

A while back, I had a friend from Newcastle, England who would comment “That’s brilliant!” and mean it as something wonderfully spectacular. I had forgotten about the word, or the way it shines and shimmers and lights up the room, until I read a post by Scott the other day called, 6 Ways to Give People a Front Row Seat to Their Own Brilliance.

And I stopped.

I read the post.

I noted his ideas.

And I sent it to a friend.

“Most people don’t realize how brilliant they are.” Scott states as he opens his essay. The ideas he presents are wonderful and can be employed in the home, work place, or in social settings with everyone reaping the reward. I love the idea of allowing others to shine - allowing them the space and freedom to share themselves without fear or hesitation or doubt. It is the way I strive to parent and manage my teams at work and enter act with others as everyone has something to give, a talent to share, experiences to express… lessons to learn and teach. We are each brilliance in human form!

The opening statement caught my attention though, and it has stayed with me. Do people not see their own brilliance? Do I see my own brilliance… I mean really see it? And if we don’t – why not?

Scott provides a brilliant list of practices that we can do to encourage others to shine and recognize their brilliance. Reading through the list, I found myself wondering what would happen if such methods were used in a classroom? How would the children respond – at any and all ages?

Or how about in Congress? Can you imagine Senators and Representatives not only recognizing the brilliance of their colleagues but encouraging it and appreciating it?

And in the everyday work place? What if we took the time to listen to our coworkers to find and recognize their brilliance, and then took the few seconds to point it out?

We are each brilliant – unique, rare, amazing people. Sometimes we see a person’s brilliance where they are unable to see it for themselves. Sometimes we don’t take the time to see it in others or ourselves. And sometimes, I am sure, we see it in ourselves but not in others. Yet that brilliance remains – that light that offers so much if we learn to take the time to see and appreciate it.

The ideas are interesting – a potential social experiment in the making!

January Days

2011-01-10T11:03:00.000-05:00

There are some mornings when words flow from my fingers with ease, requiring little thought or effort. It is as if my mind has something to say or my heart has words or thoughts to express and my fingers serve as tools by which this occurs.

There are other mornings, such as today, which find me at a loss. What to write?

As the January days continue to be cold, and a snow storm threatens to arrive tomorrow, my list of things that need to be accomplished steadily heats to a point of potentially boiling over, spilling its contents from “today’s list” into “this week’s list.”

Where I would love to have moments to ponder or to contemplate the brisk day spent in the city or the excitement I feel each morning as I notice the sun lighten the sky that much earlier – my moments are, instead, spent attempting to define technological details which leave me working my way through mazes of user’s manuals.

While there is much I would like to write about; topics upon which I anticipate putting on paper – for now, for me, it is work that fills my mind. It is the piles of “to do” items that threaten on my virtual desk.

I am here.

I delight in the brisk air of January and the ever lightening sky.

I savor my morning coffee, the conversations and silences I share with my daughter and friends, and I treasure the moments spent reading.

I am reminded to cherish the kindness and smiles and warmth around me – recognizing and appreciating each as the piles seem that much smaller and the tasks more achievable!

Continuing to Simplify

2011-01-05T11:21:00.003-05:00

“Our affluent society contains those of talent and insight who are driven to prefer poverty, to choose it, rather than submit to the desolation of an empty abundance.” Michael Harrington

“Why do we have so much stuff?” my daughter asks as she peers at the piles beneath the window. I have no real answer as the amount received this December is less than in previous holiday seasons… and there really isn’t much. My daughter though, despite her young age, is all about having only what she can use or what she needs which is wonderful and yet challenging in a society that loves to buy and expresses itself through the giving of material objects. She is all about simplifying, simplicity of environment and design, and simple expressions. She is, perhaps, ahead of her time.

This year I hope to catch up with her!

Living with stuff has never been an issue for me. Clutter doesn’t leave me feeling uncomfortable or over stimulated, it just… is. However, in the last month, I have begun to seriously consider the process of continuing the mission of life simplification to move beyond myself and into my home and office. The idea of backing a dump truck to a window and pushing everything into it has held a certain appeal for a while now, but the reality of making it happen is stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

Do we really need all this stuff?

“The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters is simplicity: nothing is better than simplicity.” - Walt Whitman

Simplicity…

The idea of living more simply is not foreign. I lived in Europe with very little; just what I needed. It was an easy life with more time and space to roam. With my daughter came more “stuff” that was thought to be needed though more often than not, it wasn’t. With children seems to come this idea that more is better – more brings a brighter and happier child. This idea is deceptive at best. It has taken me years to come to terms with the truth – my daughter needs very little and desires much less. What a concept!

This traveling season, for the first time ever, I did not fill backpacks with “things” for my daughter to do as we traveled. I did not anticipate boredom and empty hands and a mind desiring to be entertained. This season, I packed two books, a pencil and paper… and that, that was enough!!

Simplicity, simplification, recognition of need and appreciation of what we already have as well as recognition that with stuff doesn’t come happiness or contentment. With stuff often comes discontent. Simplifying removes the excess and allows the beauty to shine.

“The sculptor produces the beautiful statue by chipping away such parts of the marble block as are not needed- it is a process of elimination.” - Elbert Hubbard

The quote above is one I love. It illustrates, for me, the beauty that lies within the concept of “simplify.” Often, we think of simplification as removing clutter, cleaning closets, and ridding ourselves of those things in our lives that we don’t need or use – spring cleaning on steroids. But the quote above reminds me that it is so much more.
Throughout ten of the last weeks of the year, I engaged in work to simplify, yet it was completely internal – my heart and my mind. This work will likely continue throughout my life as I continually step back and detach from the emotional and unhealthy entanglements that have been a part of my life.
It is as if we are each works of art waiting to be removed from the stone or to have the years of dust and dirt removed from our canvas and our colors restored.
Simplify…
Stripping away the exterior and the distractions; shining light on the beauty within… as simple and as complex as it is in its natural state.
The recognition of that beauty – the appreciation of what each brings.
The freeing of space and time to allow for mindful living; deep breathing; and whole hearted listening and laughing.
Letting go of the worries and stresses of what has yet to happen and embracing today.
Practicing the patience of silence and contemplation before response.
Giving recognition and respect and time and… self rather than material or that which money can buy.
Removing ourselves from unhealthy situations and people to the extent possible.
These are all things I began to practice during December – each something I am making a part of my everyday life.

“Each day, awakening, are we asked to paint the sky blue? Need we coax the sun to rise or flowers to bloom? Need we teach birds to sing, or children to laugh, or lovers to kiss? No, though we think the world imperfect, it surrounds us each day with its perfections. We are asked only to appreciate them, and to show appreciation by living in peaceful harmony amidst them. The Creator does not ask that we create a perfect world; He asks that we celebrate it. ~Robert Brault

RAOKA is founded on the idea that we can do little things to make a difference. The little things in life, the little things that we all can do and do daily – like laughter, express passion, gratitude… These acts are noted by various people in accordance with a theme chosen each month. December's theme was Simplicity; The theme for January is "New Beginnings"!

If you are interested in participating in the RAOKA movement, please contact Zeenat, the lovely keeper of the RAOKA torch!

Celebrating Love

2010-12-21T11:48:00.000-05:00

“Oh” her voice catches as she spots a body on the cold pavement laying just beyond the speed bump in the parking lot. She rushes over only to find that the bird, apparently hit, is alive, breathing, able to move its neck.

I am at a loss as to what to do. The bird is most likely hurt badly and beyond saving and yet, I would prefer he not be hit by a car.
We ponder and cringe as cars drive by and people pass around us continuing their day without much attention given to the child in near tears and the parent feeling completely clueless.
A businessman, on the phone, shares my daughter’s soft heart. He stops in the road, protecting the bird from traffic. Telling the person to whom he is talking to “hold on,” he too attempts to figure out how to help the bird.
A woman arrives on the scene…and the bird is moved to a warmer location to rest on earth in a protected area.
While the adults continue with their day, my daughter begins to prepare a nest for the bird. Mulch, needles, what foliage she can find – she does what she can to bring comfort and warmth to her patient. She knows that the bird will most likely die, but she hopes that he will not. She hopes that he will warm and take flight.
I know that whatever happens to this bird, he will have known the compassion and warmth of a loving heart.
This bird could not help but feel the love of this child. I felt it as I watched and listened to her work.
We will never know what happened to the bird as our winter holidays will take us to distant locales, but in our hearts he is flying and singing.
In December I celebrate love.
It is the season of giving, of open wonder, potential delight. It is a time of year when people are asked to consider their community and world at large over focusing upon themselves. December is about endings and letting go and rebirth and new beginnings as the sun begins its journey back to spending long lazy hours in the sky. It is, perhaps, a month in which we may feel more connected; more a part of nature and the world at large over isolated in our bubbles.
I was reminded of these things as I watched my daughter, nature’s own child, stop everything to open her already soft heart to give of herself. Not that this action is unusual for her, but it reminded me of the spirit of the season and the love that runs through her veins and is hard-wired in her genes. My daughter is a living reminder of what love is.
Love – A word that we throw around like confetti but how often do we have love for those around us? Do we fully understand that love is about compassion and softened hearts? That it is acceptance? That it is a gift to ourselves and to others that requests and requires nothing in return?
When I first met the man that became my daughter’s father, I remember loving him as he was – asking nothing of him in return. It was a marvelous adventure and a journey about learning the ins and outs of trust, intimacy, and giving – no conditions; no expectations. I knew from the beginning that this relationship would serve to teach me about love…
And 14 years later… that relationship continues to teach me and offer me lessons on love, on trust, on respect, and on compassion. It is difficult for me to imagine that I have experienced all that I have and yet, my heart is softer and more love filled than ever in the past… because of this man serving as teacher and offering lessons.
My daughter is the best of both of us – She is that love that rooted our relationship. Like me, she is continually evolving and learning. Unlike me, she has a firm grasp of the concept of love as unconditional acceptance, as gift, as limitless strength, truth, and compassion.
This month, as candles are lit and people gather together and gave in wonderment at stars, brightly wrapped packages, and the masses of people ahead of them in this or that line – I am happy to be reminded of love as gift from heart to heart; of love as the gift of compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity.
I celebrate… love and all that awaits when we open and soften our hearts!

Snow's Magic

2010-12-16T11:55:00.001-05:00

What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year?

How do you express gratitude for it?

Author: Victoria Klein

I peered out the window first thing this morning. Something seemed different. The street light stood tall casting its off colored light upon pavement, just like always. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet… There was a silence, a softness, a gentleness to the world beyond the glass that sent me turning to the radio and considering footwear for the day.
The world felt as if it were preparing for… snow.
Having endured more snow this year than is absolutely necessary for a resident of the Mid Atlantic US to experience, one would think that the mere thought of an inch or two would send me straight to the airport with a seat on the first plane out to Hawaii or Puerto Rico; instead, I pulled on snow boots and greeted the day with peace.
Peace
I have grown much in the last year, learning about myself, the importance of balance, and finding sources of peace. I have learned that I can be a passionate person without drama – and that I can respond rather than react. The year has offered me many opportunities to learn and to practice finding peace in my life; and I have embraced it.
Arriving at work, boots on feet, scarf loosened, and coffee in hand, I am delighted to find that intuition rings true and snow is anticipated throughout the afternoon.
With snow comes adjustments as schedules change, events are cancelled, and people race to ensure that they have all they need to survive.
With snow also comes a world that is unlike any other. There is a quiet, a softness, a transformation of the stark and colorless world into something gentle and filled with magic. Everything is bright and clean. Sound is muffled. Trees take on new shapes dressed in the contrasting white against deep green and adorned with crystals that sparkle and dance in the sunlight. For a while, with the snow, comes peace.
What is it that I appreciate of 2010?
There is much from which I could choose, but today I choose peace. The peace that came with the snows earlier this year and which I have increasingly embraced as the year has progressed.
I am grateful for this discovery; for the balance it brings to my life; and the recognition that with this balance, I am able to appreciate and live mindfully with greater ease. How better to appreciate this sense of peace than to live each day and open myself to the wonder of life and the world at large…
And this includes the snow.
Today I will love the snow – its magic, its wonder, and its transforming abilities.
What better way to prepare to end 2010 than with… SNOW!

This is the 14 December entry in Reflections on 2010

A Different Kind of Sight

2010-12-13T10:43:00.000-05:00

December 8 – Beautifully Different

Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.

Author: Karen Walron

The beauty in our differences – I love this prompt.

And yet it is a challenge to write!

At the wonderful age of 9, I was diagnosed with a rare eye condition that is, as of yet, not correctable. As a result, I quickly became “different.” Growing up in small town America in small school USA, few of us had any secrets from one another – and being visually impaired to the extent that I am… not only did everyone know about it but very few knew how to work with it or react to it. I didn’t fall into the labels that often play into the high school environment – I was just me and just “different.”

My relationship with this disability has been varied. In one sense, I have allowed it to enrich my life, teach me lessons, and show me beauty in ways that I would not have otherwise known.

In other ways, it has proven a challenge – flirting, eye contact, driving, seeing my own beauty… not always so easy.

Throughout, I have learned to live life – to savor the moments and the experiences. Perhaps being given the label “different” in school served more a blessing as I have marched to music no one else can hear for years – traveling, living, parenting, working, loving…. Laughing, crying, evolving, and finding treasures as often as possible.

I have learned to see people with my heart instead of my eyes – a different kind of sight than what we are accustomed to considering. Living with eyes that don’t see like others has given me the chance to see with compassion, empathy, and love. And yet, it has also allowed me to experience the suffering of knowing that that which I see is often hidden or denied by the person themselves. The man that is selling his soul to live up to expectation; the woman who denies her ability to be loved in order to be safe; the people who have dreams that shine brightly but are not explored; and the love that dwells in hearts while fear rules the roost.

I don’t see what people want to show the world through their clothes, labels, cars, and houses… I see what they give the world in terms of themselves.

Beauty – if we strip away a person’s ability to see what society says is beautiful – we are left with beauty.

Think about it – if you can’t see – what do you find beautiful? Where is beauty?

We each have our differences – I could write a list of the characteristics of quirks I have that make me different – and yet, I would guess that the one that allows me to see beauty and might allow others to be beautiful themselves is, that I see with heart not eyes – I see with something that doesn’t care how much money that new outfit cost or how much money was spent on hair or cosmetics or tie. The heart sees the beauty that lies within.

This was written as a part of “reflections of 2010.”

The Season

2010-12-09T10:54:00.000-05:00

“It’s the season of giving.” My daughter says, her nose buried in a book.

I want to do as I have seen so many times in the movies – sink backward in the bath water, submerging my head in bubbles. I feel a tad overwhelmed with the “season of giving,” at the moment. I add the item to my mental list and focus on relaxing my shoulders… just two more weeks and everything that can get done will be done. Just two more weeks and the “season of relaxing” will begin.

I am not sure what it is but there is something about the month that begins the week before Thanksgiving and runs until the week before Christmas… It is the month of adjusting to cold weather – and it is particularly cold right now. They are the weeks before year’s end in the office meaning that it is wrapping up, preparing reviews, and compiling reports. My daughter’s schedule seems to be more busy as her social calendar picks up speed along with her assignments and exams. There is less sunlight; more darkness – and not enough chocolate!

I find myself reminding myself to breathe – Reminding myself that it is not Friday but Thursday – remembering that no matter how tired I might feel at this moment and how short time feels in the future, it will get done… It will all get done. And if it doesn’t… that is okay too!

I am making mental lists, preparing to do a few things a day… small pieces at a time.

Every journey begins with one step, after all…

Even Dancers Aren't Perfect

2010-12-06T10:01:00.001-05:00

After months of rehearsing and hours upon hours spent in the studio, Nutcracker weekend finally arrived. A Nutcracker season unlike any other I have experienced took center stage – cold temperatures, anxious dancers, and tired parents ready to share the performances and then, wrap up this season, tie a beautiful bow, and call it done.

It was that kind of season.

It was the season in which everything was going beautifully until one dancer broke her leg outside the studio, a group of dancers didn’t have a part so were thrown in and given one of another group’s, and still another dancer broke her arm just days before the performances.

It was the season of changes, adaptations, and mixing things up to make it all come together and work.

And, for the most part, it did work.

Children under 16 turned into professionals prepared to dance with their hearts despite being tired and cast changes.

Given the season of imperfections that preceded these shows, or maybe because of it, the dancers might have expected more of themselves than was realistic… or they might just have expected it of others? I am not sure what the expectations were, but people are not perfect, and these shows were performed by young people.

By the last performance, a mistake made received condemnation and blame back stage from fellow dancers resulting in… tears.

The idea of this is foreign to me. I grew up with baseball – Little League baseball actually. The kids missed balls, didn’t touch bases, and were caught day dreaming here and there throughout their seasons and careers. The understanding was most often – they are kids; and people make mistakes. Learn from it and shake it off as there are other games and other days. I have watched similar behavior in team sports – The football player misses the pass; the team understands that it happens (realizing that it was not on purpose); and they shake it off.

Perhaps the world of the performing arts is different?

Ballet seems to be about each dancer striving to perform as perfectly as possible. It is the practiced execution of movement linked to form the sequence and then the dance. It is the discipline of allowing these movements to tell the story.

Striving to do one’s best – this is something I understand. I am a little less comfortable with the idea of working for perfection as we are… people. Perhaps we can perform perfectly at times, but more often than not, we perform our best continually correcting and changing and adapting.

I have watched professional dancers make mistakes. My guess is that a ballet instructor (or even a dancer) can watch a perfect performance and find that it wasn’t perfect.

However, I am not sure that this is an understood part of the process; especially to young, tired, female dancers?

And maybe this is an aspect of their training that has yet to be reached?

The horror stories I have heard about ballet are just that – horror stories. What happens backstage is not reflective of the beauty of the art or the music or the performance that an audience watches, often spellbound. The tales I hear told are those of competition and a lack of sympathetic joy or compassion…similar to what I observed during the Nutcracker performances this year.

I would like to think that the stories I have heard are the exceptions and not the standard behaviors of these artists and performers. I would like to think that they, like their professional sport counterparts, understand that no one is intending to make mistakes or drop the ball or not perform to their highest potential every time they step on stage.

And if it is the norm – I wonder how companies and performers would change were sympathetic joy and compassion to become a part of their training and performing culture?

The Season of Wonder Begins

2010-11-30T19:03:00.003-05:00

Chilled air blows off the bay, through the buildings, and stings my cheeks as I sit, hands buried beneath the rug, in the back of a horse drawn carriage working its way over cobblestone streets. In November, night comes fairly early in Boston allowing the city to come to life under holiday lights. Old buildings capture my attention, the echo of the past meeting with the joyous sounds of the contemporary merry makers.

I am filled with wonder.

Often, when we speak of wonder, it is paired with children. The “wonder of a child” is something that adults often speak of wistfully having stepped away from such things with age and maturity. Adults are too busy to discover something new or see a thing through fresh eyes and perspective.

While I rested my head against the back of the seat and delighted in the sounds of the horse’s hooves and the past meeting with the future, my daughter delighted in watching and silently communicating (I am sure) with the horse. Our wonder took different forms on that cold Boston evening.

The seasons of wonders are upon us – from that of the sustaining oil and light to that of the wonder of gifts and giving to that of the wonder of fall turning to winter turning to… spring.

Wonder is everywhere – and it isn’t just reserved for children.

Throughout November, I have considered wonder – looking at life and the world through fresh eyes and an open heart. This process has proven interesting as I have found myself sitting back and listening to others more than not. It is the wonder of what they are saying – the wonder of my ability to listen and respond over preparing and reacting.

Wonder starts within. We see it easily in children as they learn and absorb the world around them – everything is new and different; everything deserves their undivided attention. Is it so difficult for us, as adults, to see life in the same way?

Walking through Plymouth, I marveled as the history before me. I have been in older settlements and have studied the period, but there is something about being there… and then opening to see what is there and what it might have been like. Unlike the Jamestown settlement, which barely survived, Plymouth thrived despite the conditions in which they lived. The weather wasn’t hospitable. They were greeted by the unfamiliar and the unknown - living beside Native people who spoke differently and didn’t share their customs or beliefs. Yet… the wonder… the community survived and thrived. This isn’t to say that it was easy for any of the people of those early settlements or the Native people… but they overcame in the end, learned from one another, fought a few wars, and share the historic ground today.

Wonder of history – Wonder of human spirit and the desire to survive – Wonder of invention, nature, sounds, emotions, thought…

Life is full of wonder; filled with magic and beauty and the delight of wonder in that nothing as ever the same- the wonder of change.

Wonder…Open your heart and your eyes… and find the wonder!

Wonder was the RAOKA theme for November. December's theme is simplicity! Join in the fun by contacting Zeenat who wrote "Can you see the wonder" for her November entry!

My Heart is with my Friend

2010-11-22T11:23:00.004-05:00

Chills worked their way through my body as I read her words. Tears slipped down my cheeks as my body responded physically to the emotion and power behind the pros.
One of my childhood best friend’s daughter was hurt in an unusual accident. I have not met this child nor have I seen my friend but once in the last 14 years, yet she is close to my heart and has provided insight and support throughout the challenges of my life. From 2000 miles away, there seems little I can do; little help I can give. I send compassion; I send blessings and warm thoughts; and I remind her that I will help in any way I can. This friend is one I treasure – and one with whom I have been through much. In fact, it is kind of amazing that we are friends again as we didn’t speak for years… yet she is one of the first I told of my pregnancy (which was part of the process of finding one another again) and she is one I trust completely to date.

Life is fragile. Sometimes it is easy to overlook this as life moves smoothly from place to place and activity to activity. Children seem indestructible as they scramble around, climb trees, and actively explore the world.

Yet it takes one minute – one accident – one false move that is often something that, at any other time or in any other location would be nothing… yet this time, it is life changing.

I ask you to send warm thoughts and compassion to my friend and her daughter – and her son who stood by his mom and sister throughout this experience.

This isn’t the post I was to write today, but having read her words… my heart is with her this morning. The link below will take you to her words and her experience.

A Second Chance

Kindness and Compassion

2010-11-18T11:36:00.002-05:00

“Can I give you a ride to the top of the hill?”

“To the top of the hill?” I had to smile as the walk to the top of the hill would be great though the walk isn’t challenging.

However, when we arrived at the top of the hill… “Oh, I will just give you a ride to your office, I have three minutes.”

I could have walked; I had anticipated walking; but… the ride was nice and resulted in my being able to get everything I needed to do done so that I arrived to pick up my daughter just in time.

A simple gesture was this ride – an act of kindness.

Over the past year (plus) I have found myself aware of kindness more than in the past. This awareness is twofold – that which I give to others and myself and that which I am given by others. It has been quite a year.

I would like to say that this process is one that I initiated; but, I can’t. My awareness of kindness, and to some extent compassion, is the direct result of another’s persistent actions toward me and my daughter’s observance of this behavior. It is the result of my work to detach myself from this behavior; to set my boundaries; and to find my voice thus further defining the person that I am. While I have evolved, my daughter has witnessed compassion and kindness (or the lack there of) first hand and in ways that hit close to her heart. Confusing for her, perhaps, and yet a valuable learning experience about kindness and compassion.

Compassion and kindness are lessons I want to give my daughter. She is a natural at them – and these are traits I want her to appreciate and build upon as she enters the different phases of her life. Raising Compassionate Children is the responsibility of parents. The reports about bullying, intolerance, and stress facing contemporary children leaves me convinced that there is a need to do what we can to teach kindness and compassion.

What are kindness and compassion?

The two terms are linked in my mind. It is as if the act of being kind is a part of compassion, though compassion can be given without taking action. Compassion could be the recognition of the suffering of another. It is, in a sense, the recognition of connectedness. And from compassion we can extend ourselves, offering assistance, warmth, solidarity, and kindness.

Last week Christine Carter wrote about Practicing Kindness. Two ideas struck me after reading the article – Why do people think that kindness requires time? And have we always had to learn to be kind or teach our children to be kind?

Although I don’t have an answer to the second question, I can say that kindness requires no time. It seems that it is more about a change of perspective than anything else. I don’t know that we have to teach people to be kind as much as we need to learn to recognize where we fit into the world and the lives of those around us. Isolation or living in the bubble doesn’t allow us to be kind nor does it foster compassion. It is amazing what happens when we step out of that isolation and see, truly see, those with whom we share the world.

Kindness can be as simple as a smile or eye contact when saying please or thank you. It is genuinely saying “have a good day.” Or not multi-tasking and listening when someone is talking. It costs nothing to be kind; yet, kindness and compassion can change your outlook and the world.

Today is the anniversary of the Charter for Compassion. It is a wonderful opportunity for people to take a few minutes and consider how they can add more kindness and compassion to their daily lives – toward family, friends, coworkers, and strangers. It is an opportunity to become more compassionate, model compassion and kindness, and build the awareness of these wonderful gifts in our children.

Compassion and kindness are part of my life – I teach them to my daughter as much as I learn them from her. And what about you? Are kindness and compassion aspects of your life?

Giulietta asks how we can give ourselves more compassion?

Fall Joy

2010-11-15T09:59:00.001-05:00

“Sometimes life is too beautiful to be captured by a picture.”

An Exceptional Ten Year Old

This weekend was just that – too beautiful to be captured in pictures – too beautiful to, perhaps, even be captured in words.

Laughter spilled out of my house Sunday morning dancing and songs.

My daughter went to pancakes at her Dad’s while I sang my way to coffee and work before meeting her for a brilliant fall day. The singing and laughing picked up where we left off at our parting.

There was time to climb trees, take pictures, share a great lunch, grab a treat or two, and do some exploring before the call of homework and projects beckoned us indoors.

And then there was more laughter, more creativity, and more fun.

There are days like this; days that sing with joy.

Joy filled days are not so rare, but I am not sure that they are what we imagine them to be.

I have heard people talk about wanting happiness or joy as if it is (or they are) permanent aspects of a day or a life. It is as if the difficulties and challenges disappear in the life that is filled with joy.

And perhaps for some, it is like that, but for me it is different.

Sunday was, like many days of my life, filled with joyful moments. This, however, doesn’t mean that there weren’t moments… moments of discontent or simply moments that weren’t about joy or happiness or anything of the sort. It means that throughout the day, there were many joyful moments; there were lots of choices to laugh and let go; and there were comfortable silences with space to be.

So what about it made it a joyful day?

As I have typed this, I have considered that question.

Of course, my daughter is a part of that answer as is the great weather we experienced and the beauty of the day itself, but…It was more than that or less than that as we can have a joyful day without the great weather.

In the end, I think that the joy part of the day comes from the relaxed and open mind with which we entered the day. Yes, there were things to be done and schedules to watch… but mostly, the day was ours to enjoy as it evolved. We didn’t focus on the time; but more on the moment and the day and each other.

And that was the joyful part…

The moments themselves.

Pieces of Peace

2010-11-11T11:38:00.001-05:00

In my Dad’s Levis pockets, treasures abound; tokens and memories that he carries with him everywhere. There is a stone picked up at some point from the summit of a mountain hike loved throughout his life. This rests beside a coin saved from a trip to Italy where he found a piece of paradise sitting at a table, street side, watching the world go by with other Italians. When he spills his pockets at day’s end, these are just two of the pieces of peace that are revealed. Similar to the stone and the coin, the others carry the marks of time, intermingling, and touch; edges are smooth while letters are faint if not a shadow of themselves. Each piece is a memory for my Dad, something he picked up along the way to remind him of something happy, momentous, or that touched his heart in a way that is singular to him. They are each pieces of peace.

The concept of a piece of peace is not new; though my consciousness of it is recent. Throughout my life, my dad has kept pieces in his pocket. My daughter has a piece of peace she carries with her, largely when we are a part. My Mom can be seen reaching to her pendent, which she always wears, at times throughout the day. For them, there is something grounding or centering in the feel of these objects. They are “pieces of peace.”

Throughout history, people have carried with them something that they can touch; something that touches their hearts in a way that is singular to each. Perhaps it brings a moment of calm, a feeling of not being alone; or even a sense of balance. These pieces can be keepsakes, religious materials; stones or shells; or anything really. I have heard of soldiers carrying something with them into battle or on deployment. Immigrants carry pieces with them from home possibly not only as a memory but as a little piece of grounding or of peace.

Jan brought my attention to these pieces of peace. And now I find myself thinking; considering… do I have something I carry with me that I touch? Is there something I carry with me that is a “piece of peace?”

The short answer… No. On reflection, I am not sure that I ever have. I used to wear rings that I would play with throughout the day, but I no longer wear rings. On the occasion I wear a pendent, it hangs peacefully against my chest without disruption. Travel requires careful selection of jewelry that will remind me of home, but I am not sure that I would consider these pieces a sort of peace as much as they are a reflection of me.

I like the idea of these pieces of peace. The idea of being able to carry something that, when touched, could remind me to breathe. The question is how to find such an item? We are likely drawn to those pieces that resonate or a texture. Babies are naturals at this concept – searching out the warm and fluffy or the slightly silky to rub beneath their fingers or hold close to their cheek.

As I type, this gorgeous November day, I have a few pieces in mind but nothing certain. I know that I like the idea and am drawn to give it a try. Perhaps my piece of peace will appear now that I am aware of the concept?

Do you carry a “piece of peace?”

Have you ever carried such a piece?

Umbrellas

2010-11-08T09:59:00.000-05:00

"She needs to close her umbrella of worry and bask in the sunshine of hope"

(An Exceptional 10 year old)

I remember my first umbrella - clear plastic with Raggedy Anne dolls dancing across the top. Living in the southwest, I found more use for it as a prop in dances and in self- produced plays than as a source of protection from periodic rain.

A few weeks in Cambridge, England... A few months in Dublin, Ireland... I discovered the pleasure and joy of umbrellas. While wind whipped my skirts and rain lashed against my legs and puddled in my shoes, I found a sense of security beneath the spokes of my umbrella. My umbrella, my brief case, my rain proof jacket... days in Dublin were in complete without any of them. And these days served to prepare me for life on the East Coast where three inches of rain a month is the norm and dry days are, at times, as scarce as precipitation was in my youth.

In my childhood, umbrellas served as props. In my 20's, I discovered their functionality and their necessity. In my 30's, I found that umbrellas could be light hearted and fun while serving their purpose; they could be a necessary accessory. Many a day, my daughter and I have lightened the gray days with jaunty, brightly colored umbrellas topped with frog eyes, butterfly wings, and cat ears. Necessities can be delightful and sources of enjoyment - and there is nothing like walking through the rain with a smiling frog keeping you dry.

Umbrellas... a source of protection... a shelter of sorts

Umbrellas are tools we use to protect us from the rain, or in some cases the sun… But an umbrella is also a metaphor for the worries that we use to protect us from living. As my daughter explained it – we put up an umbrella so that we don’t get wet; we are so worried about getting wet that we may not notice that the rain has stopped.

Our worries are our umbrellas. We worry about getting hurt physically or emotionally. We worry about money, dishonesty, abandonment, fitting in…

We worry about so much – keeping that umbrella open to its fullest extent – that the worries become our lives.

At some point we have to figure out what makes our umbrella; and then, what we need to do to put it down. It is challenging to live a life of worries – to live a life that is concerned about what could happen or did happen over what is happening today, right now, in the present. Yet it is in the present that we live. It can be frightening to take steps to lower the umbrella; hey, it can be scary to open our eyes to see that we are carrying the umbrella opened to its fullest! But… the freedom that comes as it closes… The strength, the trust, the liberation… The ability to fully live… It is, as my daughter stated, “Basking in the sunshine of hope.”

I have learned to see my umbrellas. I am learning to put them down. Not only am I basking in the sun and the hope… I don’t mind getting a little wet!

Do you have Umbrellas?

What would it take to close them?

So Many Kinds of Hugs

2010-11-02T20:20:00.004-04:00

The frost glistens in the first rays of the morning sun. it is the second day of November. Gone are the mornings with a hint of the Fall chill; winter has begun its approach. Or so it seemed this morning.

My daughter's hands, like mine, are sensitive to cold. This morning warm gloves embraced her fingers, hugging her hand tightly while protecting them from the cold. . I buried one bare hand in a pocket and held hers in the other. A morning of hugs: my hand hugging hers; hers tightly embraced by the gloves; and the frost holding tightly to blades of grass. Clouds hugged the sum as we walked and sang, feet sending leaves dancing in the crisp air.

Hugs.

The word invokes images of one person embracing another. Children held by parents or care givers, friends embracing after time spent apart or prior to departure, or lovers sharing a moment of intimacy.

On the internet, I often see signs of virtual hugs; people attempting to reach out to one another with compassion or shared joy.

I have seen children (and adults) enfolding themselves in blankets or gather to them a favorite plush friend finding security, warmth, and comfort in the folds of the embrace.

Growing up with dogs and cats, I have fond memories of my nose pressed into furry necks as they stood patiently wrapped in a hug of the human sort. Eventually I learned to accept their pet hugs too - the large pink tongues, the rumbling purrs, and their gentle companionship hugging in a way that is singular to each.

My life is rich with hugs - I have a daughter who believes "hug" to be one of the best words and activities in the history of the world. She shares herself through hugs - her sadness, her compassion, her joy, her enthusiasm - each expressed openly in her embrace.

There is something about a hug that words fall short of capturing. Perhaps it is the exchange of warmth? The feeling of arms holding? The comfort that comes from touch? Hugs are a little piece of magic in every essence, speaking a language all their own. They are the best hot chocolate on a cold winter day; the feeling of freshly washed sheets at day’s end; and time shared in companionship.

What are hugs to you?

RAOKA is founded on the idea that we can do little things to make a difference. The little things in life, the little things that we all can do and do daily – like laughter, express passion, gratitude… These acts are noted by various people in accordance with a theme chosen each month. October’s theme was Hugs; The theme for November is Wonder!

If you would like to participate in RAOKA, please contact Zeenat at ‘Positive Provocations.

The Courage to...

2010-10-28T09:40:00.000-04:00

Throughout the week I have contemplated courage. Courage is everywhere – the courage to speak out, the courage to come to the aid of another, the courage to step on to a stage or share art… Many definitions or examples of what we call courage.

I often think of courage as the silencing of the external, paying attention to the internal, and having the determination and faith to dance to that beat – The courage to be true to yourself.

This week though, I realized that I define courage in a way that is more external in nature. Yes, being true and living an authentic life is about self determination and choice, but it is a courage that communes with the external community. The courage is in being true to ourselves despite society and community and family and friends and the concerns as to what others may think or expect or desire.

Maybe that view of courage is still quite wide?

What happens if I drill down a little farther…

Do I have the courage to look at me – not the me that lives in Northern Virginia… but the me that is particular to… me?

Do I have the courage to give to myself what I freely and without hesitation give to others?

A few years ago, I would have wondered about that idea. I take care of myself and don’t think twice about it… But it isn’t as easy as all of that. It isn’t the mindless care that I gave myself really. That takes no courage at all. Mindfully giving myself that which I give to others takes courage as it means saying “no” at times to others so I can say “yes” to me. It means really looking at how I spend my time. It means silencing the multiple takes and thoughts and allowing myself to revel in… silence. It means playing, laughing, singing and creating. It means looking to myself for creative support over noting the lack of that external support.

I suppose it is the courage to recognize and fully comprehend that I not only need the gift of “me” time… but I need the compassion and love that I give to others to be given to me, by me. It is okay; it is hard; and there aren’t always answers… and it is all okay.

This post was inspired by the poem below – but first, 5 promises to me:

I have the courage to:

Revel in the silence – to give myself the space and the time to turn off the noise and enjoy the quiet.

Animate the inanimate; recognize and hear personalities of animals; set thought and emotion to word; and create…Do this without the support of another as I have the courage to do it for me- because I love creating.

Say no.

Unplug and listen – listen to the words, the tones, the emotions, the thoughts others share… and to hear them.

Dream – to prioritize my daughter and my family – and to be mindful of the wonders around me today; as well as the beauty and value of myself and my dreams.

The Courage to Be Myself"

Sue Patton Thoele

I have the courage to . . .

Embrace my strengths—

Get excited about life—Enjoy giving

and receiving love —Face and transform

my fears— Ask for help and support

when I need it—

Spring free of the Superwoman Trap—

Trust myself— Make my own decisions

and choices— Befriend myself—Complete

unfinished business—Realize that I have

emotional and practical rights—

Talk as nicely to myself

as I do to my plants— Communicate

lovingly with understanding as my goal—

Honor my own needs—

Give myself credit for my accomplishments—

Love the little girl within me—

Overcome my addiction to approval—

Grand myself permission to play—

Quit being a Responsibility Sponge—

Feel all of my feelings and act on them

appropriately—Nurture others because

I want to, not because I have to—

Choose what is right for me—Insist on being

paid fairly for what I do—

Set limits and boundaries and stick by them—

Say "yes" only when I really mean it—

Have realistic expectations—Take risks and

accept change—Grow through challenges—

Be totally honest with myself—

Correct erroneous beliefs and assumptions—

Respect my vulnerabilities—

Heal old and current wounds—

Favor the mystery of Spirit—

Wave goodbye to guilt—plant "flower"

not "weed" thoughts in my mind—

Treat myself with respect and teach others

to do the same—

Fill my own cup first, then nourish

others from the overflow—

Own my own excellence— Plan for the future

but live in the present— Value my

intuition and wisdom— Know that I

lovable—Celebrate the differences between

men and women— Develop healthy, supportive

relationships— Make forgiveness a priority—

Accept myself as I am now--

(I first read this at Awake is Good)

Together We Can

2010-10-25T09:25:00.001-04:00

I love a good challenge, especially when it is one that involves creativity and friends. Though I haven’t done much online, challenge wise, I have entered a few articles and poems for publication. And when my daughter tries something creative, I join in the fun.

My most recent creative venture is to write about shoes…

And I was doing a pretty good job of it until I found myself diverted by subjects that are far removed from the friendly, outgoing, eager to be humanized shoes about which I was writing. As I procrastinate on my entry, I am finding other topics upon which to write – like this one: Together We Can…

When I first heard the words, I took up pencil (and if you know me you will know that this is something I just don’t do. Although I love to draw, having visual issues that don’t lend themselves to alignment and depth perception makes sketching my ideas difficult as what I visualize and what I sketch are often quite different) But I did – I took a pencil and began to draw: Together We Can Discover. My daughter, ever the cheerleader, thought it was “beautiful.” And, it was… okay.

Today I set pencil and pad aside and let my fingers play across the keys... and I invite you to join in the fun too… Together we can…???

Together We Can…

Discover

That we are more similar than different

That every journey begins with a step

That courage lives in us

That tears or okay

That love is a gift

That hugs, cuddles, and holding hands work wonders

That laughter is music

Together We Can

Explore

Our differences and accept one another

Nature – finding treasures abound

Words, images, sounds, song

Imagination and passion and dreams

Foods – from the sweet to the spicy and everything in between

Life and its lessons

Friendship

The shadows to find what lies within

Together We Can

Revel

In the power of ocean waves and the sweetness of smells

In the joy of freshly washed sheets

In one another’s dreams

In color and texture and materials

In freedom

In Choice

In change

In People

In the consistent and the Unexpected

Together We Can

Share

Our Journeys

Our Wisdom

Our support

Our homes and kitchens and computers

Our ideas

Our dreams

Our worlds…

Our hearts

Together We Can

Make a Difference

Fulfill Dreams

Explore new horizons

Provide comfort

Change the world…

Anything is possible

We can make it so…

Together

How Did We Get Here?

2010-10-21T10:26:00.000-04:00

Throughout the past week, I have engaged in several conversations about love.

Not the accepting and non-judgmental forms of love, but the love that is about proving itself through adherence to rules and doing as expected. The love that is about being what another wants over being who we are. The love that is about perfection – and not being loved as the imperfect people we are. The love that is about not failing; not risking; and insecurities.

These are difficult subjects in that it seems easier to believe that we are lovable and will be loved if… we do as we are told; if we meet expectations; if we succeed; if we follow the rules; if we make a person happy…. It is very straight forward – this is how to be loved.

How to explain to someone that love starts within. That we are each wonderfully imperfect?

How to explain that love is acceptance of a person as is – not expecting them to behave a certain way or follow any rules or change so that they are aligned with our desires?

That we are love – we receive love – and we can choose to deny the love of another but we can’t determine whether or not they love us, that choice is theirs.

Love is about accepting the shadows and the brilliance and the colors of a person as they are, as they grow, and as they choose to be.

Davina wrote about puzzle pieces of ourselves. It is a delightful and thought provoking post. One of the comments caught my attention as it mentioned highlighting the dark aspects of ourselves over the shiny bits. I have observed this idea too – if someone can love our shadows then they might love the rest of us too. Or perhaps it is that we focus on the shadows to the point that we don’t believe we are lovable at all? How can I be loved unless I follow the rules and be who I am expected to be?

My conversations were with adults – Adults feeling unloved (unworthy of love) because others aren’t meeting their expectations. Adults believing that they are only loved if they follow the rules and do as expected. Adults afraid to trust that they are loved when they are true to themselves; adults that may not see themselves, as themselves, as lovable.

The idea of being lovable and how to be lovable isn’t singular to adults. It is one that I have seen in kids of all ages as they establish rules and expectations surrounding friendships…”If you are my friend you will…” And once those kids get older….

Last night I finished reading Winter Girls by Laurie Anderson. I celebrated the end of the book with a sigh and the knowledge that my perception has changed. The book, written for high school and adult readers, is centered around the lives of two girls with eating disorders. Leah and Cassie lived across the street from one another and became friends early in their lives. There senior year, Cassie dies as a result of her eating disorder; Leah must then find her way and determine whether she is living or dead or happy living somewhere in between.

The book is beyond powerful with strong pros and voice. Anderson researched the issues involved and presented the information in such a way that I felt connected to Leah. My heart hurt for her and for all the kids and young adults who are experiencing similar challenges.

And then I read What a Girl Wants by Chasing Ray.

And I feel frustrated.

Why are these young people making the choices to do this to themselves?

Do we pressure our kids to be perfect? Do we give them permission to not succeed?

What can we, as adults, do to help?

What can we, as parents, do??

How did society get this way?

Fortunately, I had a childhood that revolved around love and respect. The eldest of two kids, and definitely not perfect, I was encouraged to be myself with my own dreams, opinions, and voice. Image was a part of high school life, but the community did not emphasize it as much as it could have.

I am raising my daughter in the same way; but, rather than a strong community that doesn’t focus on appearance and goals, she is in Northern Virginia where socioeconomics and success (and their accompanying pressures) will play a role. Ever mindful, I have done what I can to ensure that she understands that she is love. That her being love and lovable is dependent upon nothing nor is it bound by condition or expectation… but… We don’t live in a bubble.

In the end, it is for each of us to determine that we are love, to choose to be true to ourselves.

I do wonder, what can we do to support this process? How can we make changes in our own lives and in the communities to promote acceptance and our children?

PLAY!!

2010-10-18T11:25:00.003-04:00

I am not the most “out there” kind of person. I suppose that I express myself through my clothing and my hair – but it is a subtle, relaxed expression of self over the rainbow colored Mohawk I might choose to sport. My appearance is down to earth and easy going, so it likely surprises no one to see me doing a little shuffle on the sidewalk or singing as I wait for a light (with or without my daughter). It is about having fun or “playing.” Where I don’t express myself in vivacious hair styles, I let myself openly play.

This weekend I spent time playing.

I tinkered with this website – and not being able to create what I wanted, I did just enough damage such that there are buttons that no longer work. I had a great time playing that I found myself unaware of the passage of time.

Inspired by the gorgeous weather, I tried my hand at light ballet choreography. I did this by taking a few of the ballet words I know and making them fit as the lyrics to “Be Our Guest…”

My daughter delighted in this new game – watching me attempt to perform my new dances we walked to Nutcracker rehearsal.

We played…

I played…

Surrounded by people and families that schedule their lives and thrive on structure and structured activities… My little family and I colored way outside the lines, defied structure and laughed and giggled and delighted in the combination of word play, music, and dance. I would love to share a video of our antics; my wonderful grand jette under the blue sky, colored dappled leaves, and the first signs of Fall *sigh* but such a video does not exist.

Saturday evening, I stood discussing trampolines with another adult. He explained that he doesn’t jump without the kids.

“Why? If you enjoy jumping…?”

Structured world, structured activities, schedules, time frames… I live in an adult world where play is seen to be for kids – even then, it is structured play. Of course this adult couldn’t take the time to jump on his family’s trampoline – that would be time taken from something else. What might the neighbors think? Or maybe, maybe, the idea of jumping, without kids, is scary?

“I play.” I told him. “I sing at traffic lights, dance a little, and… play. Everyone needs to play sometimes.”

And we do – adults and kids alike – we need to play. We need to let go of the structure and the schedule and have unplanned time. If unplanned time doesn’t fit into the schedule...Then we need to find time to play as we do our activities.

Car dancing – Playing

Car singing – Playing

The traffic light shuffle – Playing

Singing the grocery list – Playing

Making grass mazes or designs with the lawn mower – Playing

The kitchen and cooking boogie – playing!!

I understand what it is to have a lot going on; but, I have come to embrace the importance of playing for kids, adults, and families. I have learned to make play part of our days.

A week ago I took one of Rob White’s ideas and put it to music. Using my best operatic voice, I sing “I am prosperous…” and my daughter, never one to miss an opportunity to play, prances through the grass and along the sidewalks matching her grand jette timing to the music.

It doesn’t take much to play, yet… the feeling during and afterward is priceless.

A Beautiful Mouse, A Magical Voice, and A quest to be Heard

2010-10-14T09:34:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, there lived a mouse…

A little white mouse…

With wonderfully curved ears and a great pink nose…

Oh, and a fabulous, and I do mean fabulous, tail.

This wasn’t just an ordinary mouse. She didn’t spend her time doing what the other mice did. She had a life and adventures all her own.

The mouse also had a secret…

She sang.

She would find quiet places to sing.

She would surround herself with nature and sing.

She put words to song whenever and wherever she could.

Her voice astounded those who could hear it. It filled the air with magic and warmed the heart as it set feet to dancing or souls at ease.

But…

Very few could hear her sing.

This voice of magic and spirit could only be heard by a few.

The mouse wanted to share her talent with the world. She wanted to sing and sing and sing and to have people hear and listen.

No matter how much she tried…

Most could not hear her voice.

This puzzled the little mouse who sang with heart and soul. Why couldn’t most hear her words?

She traveled far and wide seeking answers. What could she do?

She learned that some people might not ever hear her voice as to listen to its melodies, one must listen with the heart. Heart listening is challenging at times, but once people learned how, they could find her music and its magic.

She traveled on; her quest taking her near and far seeking the wisdom of others.

As she walked, she sang. As she sang, she did not notice that more and more people started to hear her music. So focused on the quest was this mouse...

It wasn’t just that these listeners could hear with their hearts, it was that the mouse was finding her voice. With every step she took, every challenge completed, every moment lived… she found her voice and its magic.

Today this little white mouse continues to sing; she continues to share her magic; and her venture continues. She is starting to realize that the words of the wise echo those of her inner voice…

She is beginning to realize that her voice has value and is pure magic… and that she has the power to make it heard worldwide.

Why is it?

2010-10-12T11:26:00.000-04:00

If I could put a day in a bottle and save it forever – taking I tout and reliving the joy and the emotions – yesterday would be such a day.

The weather was warm and delightful.

I spent a lot of time laughing and playing with my daughter.

Not a disagreement occurred.

We planned only a movie in the morning… and took the rest of the day as it came. Wow, what a day it was.

Yes, yesterday is a day I would bottle… form beginning to end, it was joy filled.

As often happens, such a day is followed by a day that is trying in one way or another.

A day that tests my spirits and my strength.

This morning found me reacting where I need not have reacted; emotionally charged when calm and peaceful might have been a better strategy.

That little voice inside my head said “quiet” “Close your mouth.” “Open your heart.”

I hold on to the joy of yesterday; letting it wash over me to the extent that I can.

But it doesn’t stop the tears that crowd and spill forth with the anger and frustration and that I feel – the frustration.

Grace is...

2010-10-06T10:30:00.001-04:00

Grace…

It is the first glimpse of the sun

The final closing of the eyes when day is done

It is the smile of a stranger

The laugh of a child

The touch of a friend

It is everywhere when we open our hearts

And invisible to us when we close ourselves

It is the waves upon the shore

The rain upon the earth

The floating of a snowflake

The consistency of the mountains

The fire of the stars

Grace…

It is forgiving

It is believing

It is accepting

It is walking side-by-side in silence

Grace…

The recognition of the essence that lies within

It is seeing beauty in everything

It is extending the heart or the hand to another offering acceptance

Offering love

Grace…

Compassion

Love

Connectedness

Strength

Giving

Grace is…

When I considered Grace throughout September, I came to realize the depth of the word such that I am not sure it can be defined as much as it can be visualized or conceptualized.

Grace is going beyond what we feel we can do or the person that we are and recognizing that there is more or that we can give or do for the greater good or for others. It is not seeing the barista or the service person or the wait staff or the person on the street as “something”; it is seeing them as “someone.” It is recognizing the spirit within each of us and ourselves.

September is a month of grace. It is the beginning of seasonal transition. We see nature turning from the life filled greens and pastels of summer to the vibrant gems of fall. We are graced with a cooling of the evenings and the brilliance of sunny skies.

This September held other beams of grace for me as I took action to enrich my life with a workshop or two and the prospect of a new yoga practice.

And what is grace for you?

RAOKA is founded on the idea that we can do little things to make a difference. The little things in life, the little things that we all can do and do daily – like laughter, express passion, gratitude… These acts are noted by various people in accordance with a theme chosen each month. September’s theme was Grace; The theme for October is Hugs!

If you would like to participate in RAOKA, please contact Zeenat at ‘Positive Provocations.

Reflection of the weekend

2010-10-04T12:30:00.001-04:00

My daughter inspires.

For most of the last year, she has made a point of greeting those she sees with a heart felt “Hello.” She shares jokes and smiles with the people she meets and the service people she sees.

She not only recognizes the beauty of the life around her, but she makes that recognition known.

My daughter can be stubborn; she is human and perfectly imperfect. She can be detached and removed in such a way that seems beyond her years. Yet she expresses compassion and grace… in ways that inspire.

I called her dad on Saturday night to find out where they were on the road and to see if I had time to get drinks. Without thinking about it, I took her order and then offered to get him something as well. As I waited for the drinks, the barista commented “Your daughter is beautiful.”

I glowed.

My daughter is physically striking and her energy demands attention …

The barista was referring to her spirit – her compassion – My daughter’s ability to see the beauty around her and make people “real” over a part of the background.

“How is your better half?” a friend asked on the phone moments ago…

“My daughter is great…!!”

Subtle Changes

2010-09-30T10:34:00.000-04:00

There is a point in everyone’s life when it happens – that realization that enough is enough… Something has to give and it is not going to be me!

I have been slowly reaching that point. Okay, reaching that point took a lot longer than I expected, but reach it I did.

I have started making subtle changes.

Minor changes that might not make a ripple in the grand scheme of things but that are making differences in my life.

I moved a CD player into the bathroom. No longer do I listen to myself attempt to figure out why people behave as they do and make the choices that they do; instead, I spend my shower listening to concertos and symphonies. The sounds of the flutes and the oboes greet me as I step out of the shower ready to start a new day.

I started taking breathing exercises more seriously.

Noting the thought process that I gravitate to out of habit, I now nip them in the bud – choosing to think other thoughts and engage in more fun thinking.

Last night I spent a few minutes digging out books by SARK. If there is a writer that can inspire it is SARK – and one need not do more than open the pages and see the colors and pictures to feel the creative juices start to flow.

This morning I found myself dancing to the classical music streaming from the bathroom, sending my daughter into fits of laughter. “Is that ballet?” For a student of classical Russian ballet, my 2 years of American ballet for fun training are quite amusing to watch. I didn’t dance for her though, I did it for me. There is something about the classical that asks me to move… and just wait until I pull out the New Orleans and Swing Jazz!!

The words asking to pour through my fingers are more fiction than not and more poetic than essay – Subtle changes, but changes all the same.

I have taken on more volunteer work; while I am also spending more time considering my professional ambitions.

And I am more apt to challenge my creativity and mind than I have been in years.

Subtle changes – the changes that occur as September closes and October begins.

The changes that are illustrated with the golden streaks that begin to appear on the leaves and in the trees – the cooling of the nights while the days remain warm – the absence of humidity in the DC area – and the shift of the wind from the south to the north.

The subtle, the sublime, the shifting of the seasons; the changes within a life.

Incomprehensible "Why"

2010-09-27T09:40:00.000-04:00

This 3 letter word is the crux of my existence.

It is small; it is powerful; and it can open doors and allow opportunities beyond the imagination. It is a problem solver and a solution finder. “Why” is my word.

And it is the word that leaves me chasing my tail because, although there are some answers to the questions we ask – there aren’t always answers to those questions. It is those questions that have no answers or have answers that don’t make sense or answers that I am not given that can boggle my mind. “why?”

“Why do we choose not to choose the beauty?”

“Why do we choose to sell ourselves for comfort and security?”

“Why don’t we do what we love?”

“Why lie????”

“Why not take responsibility for ourselves and our choices?”

There are days when I accept that I don’t have the answers. There are days when I know that it is totally okay that I don’t “get it.” I can live and have a wonderful life without understanding everything.

And then there are the days when I have a full understanding that my life’s lesson is probably coming to understand and appreciate and even accept that I don’t have to ask the questions – there are questions that are not mine to ask or to answer.

My life’s lesson – the lesson that cycles through in differing forms like a reoccurring dream or like 2 February in the movie Groundhog Day. Same lesson, different day. And just when I think I have it mastered, the lesson will come in another form; a form that hits closer to home, as if the universe is saying “Are you sure you got it?”

It is the incomprehensible why…

I can’t count the number of times I have heard people say – there are no answers. Or something like – Accept it and move on…

And I do and then I don’t.

Asking questions was and remains part of who I am. I like stories; I like facts; and I like information that allows me to paint pictures or put puzzles together. Were I a cat, I am sure I would have lived beyond my nine lives by now as curiosity is part of my nature.

We encourage kids to ask questions, to seek information, to deduce and create solutions. We ask that people ask rather than assume…When I taught in Europe, I found it interesting that the children did not ask questions or seek information – they accepted what they heard and saw and learned as fact. So different than American students; so different than the child or the adult that I was and am. I drove my students crazy with my questions and my failure to tow the party line.

There is the line between the questions that have answers and those that need not to be asked. It is finding that line and learning to accept what is as it is and letting go with the recognition that we don’t need to understand…For me, that line is not always easy to find… but I am working on it. Were I to have the answers I want, and were I to understand that reasoning behind the questions that currently plague my mind, would it change anything? Would I be better off? Would it make a difference? The reality is that I most likely would not understand the reasons if I knew them – thus I would have more questions!

Why do people choose what they choose? Why do leaders and politicians and groups and people and parents choose as they do?

These are the incomprehensible why questions; these are the questions that I know are not about me and that I could only understand were I to put on their shoes and walk a few miles; or were I to see life through their eyes.

*sigh*

As Fall begins, I am releasing the desire to have answers to these questions; I am letting go and accepting that, despite my desire to have the answers… the answers are not to be had.

Caught in the Schedule of the Day

2010-09-23T10:18:00.000-04:00

Humidity met me as I left the building yesterday afternoon. A shock to the senses – September is not this hot nor is it this humid. Such days are restricted to the likes of July and August – yet summer greeted me in full force as I ventured to the bus stop on the last full day of the season. Summer is not gracefully leaving center stage; rather, she is pulling out all the stops with a few show stoppers!

I watched my shadow, feeling my air conditioned skin warm all the while watching the storm approaching from the west – thunder booming, dark clouds racing to cover the brilliance of yellow and blue. Would I make it to the bus stop and then into the coffee shop before the rain arrived? Could we even make it to ballet before the downpour?

I delighted in the game – the race against nature, the dichotomy of the sun and blue skies drawn on half the sky while shades of gray filled the remainder.

As the bus turned into the street, the first drops began to fall.

As I took refuge under a tree, ever so thankful for the abundance of greenery over head, a fellow parent offered me an umbrella for the day.

When the skies opened, we were safely tucked into a corner of the coffee shop enjoying a pre-ballet chat and snack. By the time we left, the rain had traveled east leaving us with wet streets, puddles, and the chance of seeing a rainbow.

That was yesterday, today is promising to be quite different.

I woke with tears gathering behind my eyes and feeling glad that no one would be measuring my blood pressure.

Having slept little last night, I woke feeling drained of energy – the heat, the humidity, the schedule of the day that stretched before me. Through the hours of the morning, I have fought back tears though I am not sure I know why they linger. I have cleaned, walked, back tracked twice, chatted with neighbors, joked with the barista, and landed safely in my office, prepared to in gross myself with work.

But before I started, I read giulietta’s comment from yesterday on Beauty…

“Maybe schools could teach a class called beauty and talk about its many forms? Inner, outer, wild, courageous. Perhaps, math and reading and science might be better integrated into larger topics?
Every time I look at a flower I'm amazed by its beauty.”

And tears gathered for another reason entirely…

Suddenly I was imagining the schools teaching the idea of beauty – the beauty of languages, of art, of physical movement, of the way words play together and create images… the beauty of logic, of numbers, of experimentation, of method, of the way things just “work” and why…

And then she reminded me of the simple and complex beauty of a flower…

While yesterday I was able to see the beauty of the day, today I have been aware only of the drained feeling inside. I remember noticing a light floral scent as I walked, the lift inside when I chatted with the neighbor, and delight of my daughter as she talked of her dream and finishing her book and the happenings in the classroom…and I, like so many others around me, didn’t recognize the beauty.

How easy it is to be caught in the pressure of time and physicality.

Beauty

2010-09-20T11:02:00.000-04:00

With the end of summer and the beginning of school comes the start of a new ballet season – hours in the studio for my daughter; hours of donated time for me; and the anticipation of the latest and greatest Nutcracker performance. Each performance, is different and dependent upon the skills of the dancers. I have not shared the story below with many – but after reading Aileen and Katie this morning, I wanted to share the beauty of my daughter – how it sown during one of her Nutcracker performances.

“She’s crying.” My mom says from the seat to my left as we sit in the front row watching my daughter perform in her eighth Nutcracker. It is the party scene – a scene she loves, and one she has anticipated for months.

“She’s crying.” The family friend says from my right. She sits in her green dress with classmates attempting to comfort her as the scene continues.

Tears drip from her eyes as she dances. She hits her moves, does her part, and performs the best she can.

I sit in the audience watching and wondering what has brought my dancer to tears. She loves being on stage and has since her first performance years ago. Curls in her hair, I remember her making her way with the other tiny dancers, attention focused more on mom in the audience over the moves or the music.

I have watched her perform many times. Watched her transform from soldier to duckling to gingersnap. Witnessed her transformation from a bouncy toddler to a dramatic dancer with wonderful lines. She sparkles on stage, reveling in the art as much as the costumes and the theater craft.

Yet this year and this performance… tears. She didn’t sneak a wave or delight in the swirl of her skirt. She cried silently and left the three of us in the front row wondering and watching.

Party scene completed, she dashed off to become a soldier and to find a bit of a smile and the comfort in a new part a bit more removed in time and place from the events of minutes passed.

Intermission found me weaving through parents and guests, rushing to her side to give her a hug. She smiled from within a new costume, a new hair piece arranged in her hair, a new attitude ready for the second half.

And I hugged her.

I pulled my nearly ten year old daughter and my favorite dancer into my embrace and held on tightly.

Tears crowded the corners of my eyes as I told her just how beautiful she is; just how proud of her I am.

“But they made me go on stage.”

“They encouraged you to go on stage. You chose to walk out. You chose to dance. You chose to do your best despite the frustration and the tears. You chose!”

Big eyes looked at me as I peered down. Beauty, beauty of spirit, beauty of courage, beauty of professionalism.

My daughter went on to perform beautifully for the rest of the night and the performance that followed on Sunday. She smiled and charmed and delighted as only she could. She looked beautiful on stage – just as she did off stage.

I found myself proud of her throughout both days, but the test of spirit and the beauty of her soul shown most brightly that Saturday night.

Beauty can be found in everything – from the natural to the created to the inspired. Sometimes we have to look a bit harder and open our hearts a bit more to see it, but beauty is everywhere. That Saturday night, as over a hundred people watched, my daughter demonstrated beauty of another sort entirely – courage, professionalism, and teamwork. She exhibited beauty that inspired.

Words, Stories, Fun

2010-09-16T10:34:00.001-04:00

We all have our favorites

Classics that remain in our hearts

So I offer a chance to share them

In a format that allows creativity and inspiration...

Are you ready to start?

The challenge is as follows

it revolves around short verse

Describe a favorite childhood book or classic

Leaving the title to be found - like that missing chap stick in the depths of a purse.

I offer a few examples below

Created by my daughter and me on the fly

We like to play this game, among others,

While we walk under any kind of sky!

Spun silk forms messages

Best friends – one with four legs, one with eight

A fair, a rat, a little girl

Webbs that change a fait

An under-the-weather grandmother

A basket full of treats

A skipping girl in a cloak

And a large animal with big teeth

His differences were noted

Though he tried, he couldn’t be like the rest

It wasn’t until he saw the beauty of a swan

That he realized that

being true to himself was being his best

And now –

I give each the floor

to write a verse about a story or a book

I wonder if we can guess the titles you choose

In this space or your own little nook.

This post inspired by two books,

Perhaps

2010-09-14T12:11:00.001-04:00

My daughter’s father’s birthday is Thursday.

“Perhaps I could give him this?”

“He wouldn’t like it.”

“Seriously?” The comment caught me off guard as I know this man, and unless things have changed drastically in the past few months, he would like it.

“It’s from you.”

And I have no answer to that. It is a silence followed by a change of subject as there are other things to chat about, to laugh about, and to consider as we venture down the path.

She is the woman Also Known as Hope

2010-09-10T11:57:00.005-04:00

In another life, her name was Hope

She is the passion of the piano and the simplicity of a woodwind in a movement of nature's "inspiration" symphony

She is shades of green - the spark of fire in emerald, the tranquility and mystery of forest, the playfulness of sea foam, and the depths of Jade.

She has walked the paths of the Romans, her voice joining with the echoes captured in marble and stone

She is the daughter of Bastet, nurturing, creating, loving, and pregnant with inspiration and imagination; She shares her life with Artemis and nature aplenty

She looks fear and challenge straight on, and smiles... a hint of a sparkle playing in the depth of brown eyes

She has flown amidst the stars, gathered around the Seanchai, been enchanted by the Cliffs of Moher, And has forged her own path finding treasures along the way

Her steps have echoed through time, clicked in the White House, padded through the Pentagon, whispered down forest paths softened with pine needles and leaves, crunched the crystals of snow, tickled the desert sands, and danced along the waters edge flirting with the waves.

She is the sensual side of the unexpected and the playful side of consistent; The woman who treasures you, supports, you, and finds the kid inside ready to laugh and play

She is friend, lover, companion, partner, confidante, mother; She is the devil’s advocate, the pragmatist, the believer in dreams, the risk taker, and the safe harbor; the haven in which one is home and accepted and loved regardless

She is the summer’s juiciest peach and Thailand’s hottest chili

She understands the power of words; as sword, as salve, as banter, as inspiration, as seduction

The natural and the unspoken, she appreciates silence – the whisper of the wind through the leaves, and the soft timber of the falling rain

She sees with heart and soul over eyes and embraces with body and mind

Words flowing from page to page, she is a mystery who is a work in progress, the chapters yet to be written

The world is her classroom; its people her teacher; and she lives to learn what is offered

She is curves and waves and the elegance of line and form

She is the woman once known as Hope

This was a delightful challenge – and a kind of birthday present to myself as I can write about many things easily, but writing or talking about myself in this way is a stretch – one I embraced. Thank you to Lori for inspiring this post with her Woman with the Panther Tatoo post– and Thank you to Lori and Sara for their input

*Picture from Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities as seen in the National Geographic.

Treasures - Celebrating my 30's

2010-09-08T12:18:00.000-04:00

I am a fan of the thrillers and the adventures - a cool fall evening and a wonderful mystery are a little peace of heaven in my world. Yet, I am not one to try and consciously solve the mystery as much as I enjoy the way the story evolves, savoring the details as they are revealed. The way I read these books is illustrative of the way I live my life, enjoying the moments as they come with a vague notion of events that are planned in the future. I don’t live for these moments as much as I know they are there and live life as I move toward them. I like to think that this allows me to find the gems and the diamonds in the rough and the treasures that are scattered about; and, most of the time I do find some of them. In the past decade, there have been treasures – some of which I have found in plain sight, others have required digging and discovery, and others have dropped in my lap or hit me in the head, depending on how you look at it.

In Plain Sight

Of course, the topper of this is my daughter. She is a treasure, not because she is my daughter, but because she is 100% herself (and she is the first to say it). She is a treasure from the music of her laugh to the attitude in her words to her insight and compassion. Those who do not believe children have lessons to teach or a voice to share have yet to spend time with a child. Along with her comes the velveteen dog who is not velveteen but there isn’t a friend more well loved in that this dog is living proof that the story, the Velveteen Rabbit is possibly non-fiction! There is family, mine, hers, immediate, extended, and friends – who are family in my world. Oh, and a few fluffy beasts, a lot of plants, the sweetness of the breeze, the power of the storms, and the wonders of the ocean. These are the not so “hidden in plain sight” treasures of my life.

Hidden Treasures

I have heard it said that the best place to hide anything is in plain sight – and some of the treasures of the last decade … right there, before my eyes, it just took me a while to “see” them. My friends (not easy to miss, yeah?) are the overlooked gems in this treasure chest. I didn’t realize the wonders or the magic of my friends, near and far, until I reached out for help. There they were – women and men helping, listening, supporting, and finally telling me… “Ride over! Time to get off!!” Because, at the end of the day, sometimes the best friend we can be is the one that says the five minutes of pity are over, it is time…These friends – if I ever doubted that people had my back, this past decade has taught me that not only is my back covered, but there is someone to hold each of my hands, to give lots of hugs, to sit and share a coffee, and there are even a few traveling to share my birthday and a few laughs.

Digging for Treasure

Sometimes I have a map when I start digging for treasure. Most of the time, however, I leave it to intuition, deduction, and my gut. The hidden treasures uncovered throughout the last decade are numerous, often they are the events, people, and experiences that ask me to stretch or find more of myself. They can be enriching immediately or the impact of their discovery can be slow in coming or life changing in some form. My daughter’s father and the evolution of our relationship is one such example. The experience is one that has been difficult to swallow at times, challenging beyond expectation, and yet, the experience is empowering, enlightening, and enriching in ways that I have yet to fully understand though I will say I appreciate the role he has and does play in my life.

There are other hidden treasures, the kind that delight, bring laughter, and have me smiling when I least expect it. They have asked me to look beyond my perspective and offered the opportunities to think or reflect. Oh, and some of them are all about creating…

This blog started as a lark – today it is one of the unexpected, hidden treasures of the past decade. Through it, I have been reunited with my love of writing and have found a forum to express myself in a variety of written forms.

Treasures that just… Happened

These are the unexpected; the little things that have opened my eyes – and they are abundant. I lack the space and the words to list them or give them justice. They are the smiles of strangers, the bridges that I have crossed, the feel of my passport in my back pocket, the taste of a hazelnut Fro, and the discovery of new people and neighborhoods and music and books. It is one of these treasures that inspired this post – and the thought around it. I met one of my dearest friends when we were in the 5^th grade. From that point, we have been friends though we rarely see one another nor do we talk often on the phone; yet, she is a rock in my life as I am in hers. It is in an e-mail I wrote to her that I realized a treasure that fell into my lap or hit me in the head – the kind that seems to have no origin and to consider how it came about is fruitless because it just happened which is further evidence that it is a treasure, yeah? In this case, the treasure is a person whose star collided with mine nearly two years ago and who, in some intriguing way, has become a confidant and a kindred spirit.

Treasures

Treasures are everywhere – from the beaches of Florida to the deserts of Arizona to the taverns of Boston and the cobblestone streets of Europe and the animals of the Antarctic. They are people and places and nature and animals and gestures and words. One only has to open my Reader to find treasures – blogs and posts and experiences and people – each a treasures in their own right. I don’t have to look far to find treasures in my life – I just have to open my eyes and my heart to see them.

I often wonder what each of us would find if we became treasure hunters for fifteen minutes a day? Would we find the treasures that are in plain sight, hidden, or would we notice them falling from the sky like stars – amazing and brilliant?

Love as Simple Machine?

2010-09-06T10:27:00.001-04:00

"If love were a simple machine, which machine would it be?"
This question floored me - love, a simple machine? Yet I liked the sound of it. What simple machine would love be?
Would it be a screw?
A wedge?
An inclined plain?
A pulley?
Wheel and axel?
Or maybe a lever?
My daughter and I went through the different simple machines in an attempt to find the one that best defined or illustrated love as she and I believe love to be.
Then I asked an engineer friend who promptly responded "teeter totter. Love is give and take."
But is that love or is that a relationship?
I think of a relationship as give and take - it is the way that we can work with one another. It is the asking for help when we need it and offering it without condition at other times. It is accepting ourselves and others for who they are, giving them space and asking for the same; giving respect and asking for it in return. A relationship is give and take - it is the ups and downs of a teeter totter.
And love?
Love is a gift that expects nothing, is based on no conditions, and is just. love. I don't know how exactly to explain it. As another friend put it, you don't have to like the actions of a person to love them - just as someone doesn't have to give you anything in return for you to give them love.
So. what simple machine is love? Which simple machine offers an illustration of love in that tangible form?