LIFE

Life is really an amazing, crazy, outrageously painful and contagiously thrilling adventure. I admit it, some days I don't see it like this. Some days all I see is the laundry and dishes and caked on yogurt I'm scrubbing off the dining room table. But today, I see it. The dreamer in me whispers in my ear, "dream big." The tired mother in me says, "Straighten the pile of little shoes by the front door and make sure you shower today!" The lover in me says, "notice." and "be." And they are all parts of my "me-ness" trying to burst out in to life and mesh in to one, trying to figure out how this all fits together and what it means.

Some days, I feel confused about it all, pulled in competing directions, but other days, when the lover wins out, my arms seem to stretch out broad enough to contain it all. And it all makes sense and fulfills and enriches and points me to the reason... Just to live, to feel, to be present, to be touched by the lives of others and hopefully in some way to offer something in return...

More about story...and some of mine

As I get closer to people I'm less inclined to jump to simple conclusions about their life and struggles (or how I might fix them). As the "armchair adviser" in me recedes, compassion, sadness and hope grow. As one of my mentors told me, "When you really get to know another person, sometimes all you'll want to do is weep."

Transparency fosters this continual revelation. And the more open another person is with me, the more clearly I see the truth of Plato's saying, "Be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is waging a terrible internal battle."

~Jenny Schroedel

I concocted a soymilk eggnog latte this morning, slightly sceptical about how it would turn out. Not bad, though...very sippable. I added just a dash of cinnamon and a few drops of vanilla. Viola! Me, the barista.

Leaving breakfast dishes scattered on the table, I sat down at my computer to start writing, when a full 3D picture of my kitchen sink flashed into my brain, obscuring every other thought. So to the kitchen I flew, mindlessly arranging dirty dishes in a basin of suds and cascading water. Suddenly awareness returned. I blinked my eyes, dazed, hands dripping.

This is about being real, I think to myself. Another authentic moment...the kind that brings you back to the storyline. Mindless dashes are not uncommon in my world, but I've had 34 years now to examine those interesting quirks...not quite so many in higher level thinking.

(I am reminded of this and this and this. )

Here's something real:

When I was younger, I would have instances when disturbing scenarios would repeat over and over in my mind. One common scene would be me getting into a car and shutting the door on my leg. I would try frantically again and again to get that leg in before the door shut. It felt overwhelming, impossible. Finally, with all my brainpower, I would force the leg in and slam the door shut. Sometimes, I felt physically tired from the stress these type of episodes would cause. And, honestly, it was pretty disturbing. I thought I was weird and probably the only person to have this type of brain. High stress seemed to trigger moments like this and make them more intense.

When I felt extra stressed, I would start blinking. Sometimes my eyes would feel stuck closed. I had to work to get them open. As I got older, I would bargain with myself. Say, if I didn't get the silverware put away in the drawer just right, I would have to stab myself with one of the knives. Sounds crazy, I know. I felt a little fearful putting the utensils away, but I never followed through on those sorts of bargains. They were just there, reflecting the inner-struggle. The scenarios changed as I got older, but were always most intense in times of stress or emotional upheaval.

Now I know that I'm not crazy, just a bit obsessive...and knowing is half the battle. I can laugh at my mind's tendancy to need a tidied dorm-room in college before I could start studying.I can laugh at having to make sure the dishes are done before I blog. I can also say to myself, "leave them," and walk away. And that is an accomplishment that brings me peace. My leg no longer gets stuck in the door either. The occasional weird thought is allowed to pass through and move along without having to be "fixed."

A story that once brought me deep pain and frustration now only leaves a tinge of bittersweet. Why? Because this is a little girl I know, whom I have found deep compassion and love for...a little girl who has grown into me. And that makes me smile.

But it's only part of the story and the story is just that...a story....something to learn from, cry, laugh and grow through.

Saturday Morning Gush

Is it just me or does the fact that I can be in the middle of putting dishes away and have a surge of desire for my piano, leaving a handful of spoons awaiting my return, qualify me as easily distracted or easily moved? Am I scattered-brained or passionate? Probably a little bit of both. And I like it and I don't.

This is something that is so me that I've tried to change in my quest for responsible adulthood, in the process finding that I like the quirky me-ness of this little person who I am. I have learned at my best moments to laugh and love idiosyncrasies in my personality that might otherwise frustrate me. This is an honest evaluation of where I'm at right now.

At times I step back from an outside view and imagine my soul saying, "Wow, you are a funny little personality to work with." I know that sounds weird but I guess that's exactly what I mean. Of course my career choice allows me to be a bit more indulgent than people who work outside the home. I get to be the stay-home mom and all that entails while my amazing husband works his tail off to make sure I get a latte every Sunday afternoon. He may step back and ponder my funny personality every now and then too. Nobody, including myself, takes my writing endeavors too seriously yet, so I can't quite claim that as a job. It's more of a lifestyle and an evolution.

I have to admit that when I'm in true form, I am quite childlike. Is that okay? Everything gets done, but it gets done in my fashion. And I'm so much happier when I'm living like that than trying to fit myself into the model of what I have believed for so many years that I should be. Not that I don't have room for growth...I DO. The wonderful thing about this discovery is that I can push my way into someone else's idea of how I need to be OR I can love life as me and celebrate the challenge of facing my weaknesses and strengths in my own wonderful way. This is what I choose because it brings me joy. And joy is awesome inspiration for embracing challenges and change.

Mother, Holding Child

Tonight I held my four-year-old in my arms as she slept, her hand still clasped around her glow-wand from earlier in the evening. Her hair smelled like smoke from roasting marshmallows over the fire, but I pulled her close and kissed her sweet blonde head. Her allergies have been a challenge this summer...the nebulizer has become a bedtime routine, but tonight she fell asleep dirty and happy on the couch before her breathing treatment was ready so I swept her up and cradled her in my arms. A moment to pause... moment of Oneness. At that moment, I was simply mother, holding child....no more, no less, no past, no future...just mother, holding child.