Nutcracker Wishes and Sugarplum Dreams

I have always loved to dance. I am by no means a good dancer nor do I have great rhythm, or graceful movements, but boy do I love to move! It is rarely pretty, but in my head I am connected and I fill up my cup o' soul while I'm doing it. It's not unusual to stop by my house and hear music blaring and find me and the kids in a full swing dance party in our pajama's on any given evening.

My mom took me to see my first Nutcracker at a small auditorium in Bristol, TN when I was seven. It was so beautiful and I remember just being swept away in that little girl way that was filled with magic, swirling, goodness of a new discovery. I've always enjoyed the stage and basically any form of artistry and performance, both from the audience and actually being part of it. I've seen hundreds of shows all over the world and always take away some gratefulness from the talents we are all blessed with on this Earth.

Friday night I saw the best version of the Nutcracker that I have ever seen. My mom, my daughter, and I were invited to the Fox Theater in Atlanta to see the Atlanta Ballet and Atlanta Symphony perform. We had the chance to see the dancers and costumes at a pre-show reception and we got to sit on the sixth row where it actually snowed on us during the performance. Cool right?!? Plus, I had on FABULOUS shoes!

When we got the call, I was so excited to receive the invitation. It only soured when I looked at the date and realized it was on one of the weekends that the kids go to their dad's. I have had a couple of other cool opportunities come up and he just won't let them go, no matter what. So, my heart fell immediately because I felt sure this would be a similar situation, and true to form, he would not allow her to go.

I didn't even tell her about it. I don't understand his reasoning, and truly feel if the shoe is ever on the other foot, I will absolutely let the kids do something with him. It is the right thing to do and I want the kids to be able to have great experiences with both of us. No matter what arguments we may have, the fact remains...we were brought together and beautiful kids were a result. I would never change anything about the journey because I've learned so much, and when these opportunities come up, I will ask, always. 

Now, being a mere human, my first thought was about some nuts I'd like to crack. Forgiving is constant and hard work, people and every now and then you have to pull an all-nighter!

So, inspite of not getting to take the little girl, my mom and I went to the show. I realize now, that it was meant to be that way. I love my mom so much, and with our busy schedules and a lot of the focus being on what activities the kids are doing, we really don't have the time to spend and have that mother and daughter time that I loved too. It is what has helped make me a good mother.

Tears fall as I type this, because I know that I won't always have these chances, and I am, in a way, grateful to my ex for his actions, so my mom and I could share this time again. As soon as the show started, I was totally transported, just like the very first time I saw it. But this time, I was filled with love and the knowledge that we are all here to know love and give it back. That is our highest purpose. This is why we are alive and what makes our lives the best they can ever be!

We had a ball. We got to talk about all the things that we never have time for and we got to dress up and be pretty together. We stayed at the lovely home of my mom's best friend and his partner and their sweet animals. We laughed so hard our stomachs hurt. We ate, drank, and were merry! It truly was a gift.

I am always so moved during this time of year with the reflections of the past, the blessings of the present, and the hopes of the future. As you are moving through your holidays, may smiles stretch across your faces, and may sugarplums fill your heads regardless of your circumstances. If the Grinch's heart can grow, so can all of ours. FA WHO DOOR RAY!

And... here is the link to the FOX! It is an amazing venue, go see a show there. You won't regret it.

 http://www.foxtheatre.org/

One Good Thing About Music...

My parents took me to see John Prine in concert when I was a toddler. I can remember sitting in the auditorium and looking up at how high the ceiling was and waiting. I remember about two songs and then I'm pretty sure I fell fast asleep. I still remember it though, and thus began my love of a live show.

Now, as a thirty-something adult, I've seen hundreds of shows with legends, icons of every genre, one hit wonders, amazing local artists, and awesome collaborations. I've been to small intimate settings and giant stadiums, and wandered from stage to stage at mega-festivals.

I get an energy that is electric when I enter a venue. I love checking out people's style and how everyone interacts, each person being so individual and so unique. But through these differences, we are also united because we are all there for the same purpose, to enjoy music and maybe move and groove a little. It is a beautiful realization.  

It's a great feeling to hear the song you came to hear. You feel like you are connected.  Looking out into a sea of people and seeing the united movement to the rhythm of an awesome beat is as satisfying as an ice cold beer after a few hours of yard work in 80 degree weather. And an unexpected, well-done cover as a finale is like that Christmas present that Santa left tucked into the corner, The Red Ryder, if you will.  

And no, you won't shoot you eye out! So, get out there. Go see, hear, and FEEL some music. AND take your kids! It IS worth it and I can't imagine life without it. So, "THANKS! Mom and Dad, you did good!" And the music has shaped the girl as it should.

Lay Down the Oars and Go With the Flow

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and realize that prisoner was you."              ~Lewis B. Smedes

I met a few friends out for dinner recently and as we began talking, I realized we were all needing support with forgiveness. We all had very different circumstances but all with the needed end result. We talked about it, prayed about it, and we each went about our way to work on it.

When we met again... yes, we were still stuck in the same old groove and immediately fell into the pattern of complaining about each of our troubles. It's not easy and sometimes forgiving can happen for one aspect and then the next day a totally different topic comes up and drags that thing you forgave yesterday out of the depths again for a piggyback ride right back into your thoughts.

As a recently divorced mother of two, learning to forgive has been something that is not only a top priority but totally necessary for my well-being and in turn, the well-being of the kids. Not only did I have to forgive my ex for all the things (many of them mutually painful- I played my part too) that ended our marriage but I also had to forgive myself for all the various actions and reactions that coincided the whole process.

It was enough to curl me into a fetal position several times. But I made it. And I'm stronger for it.

A few weeks ago, I got an apology for at least some of the actions from the ex that I had to "just keep forgiving." It was long-overdue, and yet still an incredible feeling. A month before that after an intense healing session with the Maori (I highly recommend them if you are ready for a change in your life), I made a conscious intention to forgive no matter what when it came to whatever kind of behaviors that were oustide of any realm of control. And to give love to replace resentment.

And once I started replacing my old pattern of holding it all in and dwelling on why it was or how to make it stop, it did just that. It stopped. It didn't bother me anymore because I choose joy. I choose to move forward. I choose to concentrate on love. I choose to give a second chance when the opportunity arises. And I choose to let it go.

It ain't easy (Mom, forgive my slang), but this change is serving a much better purpose. I realized I was holding onto the thought that I could possibly control another person's thoughts or actions and that things might change for the better, and as soon as I let go, they did.

Freedom in your head after any kind of trauma, be it heartbreak, failure, an accident, disgust, or even just a really bad choice is the hardest part to get back because you have put so much energy towards it and it is a part of something you think you need. So sometimes it's best to stop thinking for a bit and ask you true self what it is that you want. If you don't ask, it is hard to receive.

So, EnVogue and Bob Marley, you were both right.... Free your mind, and the rest will follow.      Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.

This little bird is going for a trip on the good ship of choosing to be happy. See ya soon for round 2,876,000,456 of forgiveness.

Like the Corner of My Mind...

Memories...like the corner of my mind. Misty, watercolored meeeemories....

WHERE HAVE THEY ALL GONE?

In my early-middle age, my memory is not so great. I often forget why I walked into a room in the first place. Sometimes I meet someone or get semi-important information and forget the name and info within ten minutes finishing the conversation. I used to blame it on pregnancy and then baby brain, but now that the kiddos are both out of diapers, I feel this is no longer a viable excuse.

*Sigh* A few years ago, I was so worried about this. I thought it was the early onset of Alzheimer's. SO, I learned how to knit. I thought, "If I just get my brain moving in a new direction it will help." I hasn't, but now my kids' teachers get really cool scarves for their Christmas gifts and I'll never have to buy another washcloth for as long as I live. So BONUS!

I really DO try to listen, I just don't have a great memory when I hear something. I think this comes from teaching thousands of students (over 500 a year), attending too many meetings, and basically passing through a lot of information that needs to be remembered for the time, but then has to be let go to make room for the next batch.

BUT, show me a painting and I'll remember it always. Sing me a song and I'll hum it seven years later. Word of mouth just doesn't stick sometimes, I have to see in front of me or actually write it down. It has always been this way. I remember having to learn the introduction to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to the tune of Rocky Top for my senior English class. I can still say every word with an almost-perfect English accent.

And in college, Art History classes changed my whole perspective. I totally GOT history when I saw what was going on in the art world at the time. It made so much sense to me that I actually picked up a double major in History, but I literally had to see it through the artists of the time's eyes to believe it.

I've come to the conclusion that I just have to make a solid or somewhat cheesier connection to remember.  There's a lot of input in our busy, Internet-overloaded, and hurried society. Sometimes there's so much junk out there that gets stuck in our heads, there's no room for the good stuff and the needed stuff.

Many times I find myself yearning for simpler times and rotary phones. I used to know like 50 phone numbers,  and now? It's closer to nada! ZIP! But those numbers that I knew from the days of yore are still there because I had to perform an action to get a result. Now I just have to hold down a key for speed dial. There's the difference, but where's the time to make up a little rhyme or jingle to remember the pertinent info? 

So, here I sit before you...  a stack of lists to my left and my right hand marked up with the items that must take first priority(yes, I am aware that ink can poison me). It's the system that works for me. Sometimes it works too well. Yesterday I went to the hospital where I was going to pay a bill from the emergency room. BLARH!          Buuuuut.... I had forgotten and already paid it!

Record keeping! Memory? Who needs it! Sometimes I'm truly grateful for the little memory losses that bring an unexpected smile to my lips (and sometimes extra cash in my bank account)!

Cheers to all those with whom I've made the happy memories,
May they be bright enough to block out the shadows from others.

Clean-up in Pew #13

I'm not really a "churchy" kind of gal, and my "religion" is an amalgamation of many beliefs, tolerance, and agreements. But my heart is in the right place, and for the most part I try to think about and do what is right. When I slip up, and I definitely do, I try to apologize, reap the consequences, and learn the lessons.

I started taking the kids to church a couple of years ago. They like it and I am grateful that we have been very welcomed by our little church family.

I have taken my son to "big" church three times. ~Flashback to about a year and half ago...

The first try... As I was searching for my money for offering, he grabbed the little change purse that he and his sister had been playing store with all weekend. How cute, I thought. Now, I also thought this contained their fake money. I could not have been more wrong. He had taken an opportunity when I wasn't looking to replace that fake money with the brand new marbles that he received from his Pappy the previous evening.

As the service began, he opened up the bag and dumped the marbles onto the floor. Until that very moment, I had never realized we had wooden floors underneath the pews. We sat in the back so we could leave if need be without causing too much commotion. "WeeeeLL><isn't that speeecial?" The Church Lady's voice rang in my head as my good intention just flew right out the window! Even the preacher ended up returning a marble and I'm pretty sure I expressed all the shades of pink I could turn within 30 seconds.

The second attempt, I knew better. He stayed for a little bit. I brought something paper, crayons, etc. But the singing got him (which I get, it was a bit dramatic), and we made a calm and casual exit. Ten minutes later, one of the mothers from the nursery came to get me. Evidently my darling little heathen had decided to hide out in the bathroom and then suprise-flash the girls when ever they came close to the door and total chaos had ensued in the childcare room. GRRRRReat! "...like the FRU-IT's of the DEV-IL," the Church Lady echoed in my head.

At this point, I was kind of waiting for a call from the preacher. It never came. My guess is that maybe the thought was that we probably really "needed" a little more churchin'.

Flash forward to yesterday...

A year has passed and we've made some progress. He was the shepherd with a somewhat devilish grin in the Christmas program, and we've been to the early morning, smaller service with success and no major interruptions or loss of clothing.

So yesterday we went to "big" church again to watch his sister perform during the Children's moment. All was well until the director asked if there were any other children who wanted to come forward, and up he went. Now, I thought he would be ushered to just sit and watch. But, noooooo! He hopped on the stage wasn't directed to the steps or front pew or anything. "Oh! This is bad," I thought.

Well... he proceeded to perform his own version of the song and sign language. I began squirming and blushing, the congregation began laughing, and he HAMMED it up all the more because of the prior two facts. At some point, you just have to smile and go with it, and fnd yet another lesson of humor in humility.

Thank Heaven, for little boys... and easy-going steeple people.

@ Dana Carvey(aka- The Church Lady), eat your heart out while you perform your "Superior Dance!"
-And if you don't know that I just referred to, I'm totally judging you, so look it up on youtube ;-)



Weellll, isn't that special?



Fat and Happy

Happy Belated Fat Tuesday, for today we purge.

I've been doing ab exercises with a friend. Then she gives me homemade cookies. I go swim and feel like my heart might explode, then I find my little one-time-a-year girl scout goodness staring at me when I walk in the door. Oy vey!

It's a constant see-saw. I actually think I work out to eat. I'm pretty sure K.D. Lang wasn't talking about chocolate when she sang "Constant Craving," but it runs through my head whenever I get around sweets. I totally eat and regret too.

Well, today for lent and for good, I'm giving up my lovehate relationship with my tummy. I'm still gonna eat, but I'm gonna enjoy it! My little Buddha belly and I are making piece. I will embrace my body, where it is at, regardless of the imagery society places around me of touched up stars and photo enhanced loveliness. May we all choose life instead of regret, and live it well, with lots of belly laughter, a healthy dose of cookies, and a joy for who we are inside our own unique skins!



Beauty!



"Aren't you a little short to be a Stormtrooper?"

Me: What do you want to drink son?                Son: Beer

Me: No, really. What do you want to drink?     Son: Wine

Me: Okay, we have milk, chocolate milk, (and I continue to list all age-appropriate beverages)
Son: I WANT BEER!

Me: Beer is an adult beverage. You are not having beer.
Start of a temper tantrum- cue the foot stomp.
Son: I want the beer, with the bubbles? You know? That we put on ice cream?

Cue the light bulb and mommy's deep sigh of relief, that pre-mature alcoholism has not set in with my four year old baby boy.

Me: OOOOOOhhhh, you want Root BEER!
Son: Ye-es!!!! ( hands out and open all innocent as if I thought you'd never figure it out)


Cheers to all!
May this be the first of many misunderstandings that end in laughter.

Strummin' On the Old Banjo

I dreamed I could play music last night. I mean really play. Enter the *sigh* -  This was only a dream, but I woke up thinking I could pick up any instrument and wail. It felt good and it's going on the bucket list.

I've always loved music. I grew up in the country and my parents had music playing all the time(THANK YOU, parental units). I remember working my little fingers through their albums and my dad sweating bullets thinking I might mess them up. I remember the day he finally gave in and just taught me how to properly handle and play them. I loved looking at the covers, hearing the scratch of the needle, and anxiously awaiting the sounds to begin.

I coveted my own little crayola record player and my tiny suitcase of 45's, all of which I still have. My godfather was manager of a Record Bar and so I had the "hook up" when it came to promo single albums. I had a Menudo record before anyone in my small southern town had ever heard of them. Wait! Who were they again? Many of those promos are probably still unknowns to my fellow townsfolk.

I was exposed to and liked all kinds of music and still do, but one instrument has always stood out in the inner melody of my brain...the banjo. I fell in love with the sweet twang when I was but a wee child. I loved Jim Henson's Rainbow Connection having, banjo playing, singing, froggy persona and Steve Martin claw hammering away on SNL when I could sneak a peek. To me these men were finger pickin' heroes.

As I got older, I learned to love the genius of Earl Scruggs, Ralph Stanley, Jerry Garcia, and Bela Fleck, and I sought out their music and performances too. At many a bluegrass show, the banjo player always gets the brunt of the jokes. Banjos are in constant need of re-tuning and they are a peculiar instrument. When Rachel Griffiths named her kid Banjo, I thought it was great while others only considered Tuba to be a worse choice. But still, I hear a Foggy Mountain Breakdown or an Orange Blossom Special and I just can't help but smile.

I WILL "folk"it up one day. For now, I'm all ears. If you have any banjo-rific song selections, please send them my way.  A good friend shared this one, so if you too are a fan, enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkEpPuFChg4

Just a'twangin!

Aa-at Laaast....

Dear Valentine's Haters,
I have been one of you, so for your convenience feel free to stop reading now.

This was the first time I can remember actually looking forward to Valentine's Day. I got up early and made heart-shaped pancakes for my little loves. I walked into my job to having the door opened and was greeted with heart-shaped boxes of chocolates from three of my students. A cupcake was waiting on my desk, I listened to a beautiful music mix, received my first bouquet of flowers at work (a beautiful one, I might add), received lots of sweet goodies, and watched great art students drawing "love"ly drawings. After work, I taught a heart-opener yoga class, got to have a homemade dinner, go Salsa and Tango dancing, and then finished off with snuggles, a glass of wine, some girl scout cookies, and the new episode of Inkmaster. And the rest is filtered. This was a good day. (Aa-at Laaasst...oh, sing it Etta!)

In Valentine's past, I dreaded them, never quite knowing what to expect, what to give, or how to react. The build up of romance always kind of seemed like a stress and a let down all at once. Yesterday, I woke up with no expectations. I didn't really care one way or the other. My goal was to just express joy and gratitude. I was not quick to judge or anger and just attempted to see the good (even when my son got angry and yelled at me over the heart sticker I put on his sticker chart because he wanted a car). I've found that once I get my head into a space of  "I-am-going-to-have-a-good-day-no-matter-what," it usually turns out pretty great. It's just getting it there that is the daily challenge.

Here's a lil' history (or herstory, for my feminist pals)... Today, women purchase almost 85 percent of all Valentine's cards, but according to legend, the original letter it is said was written by a man named Valentine who was imprisoned for helping Christians escape the harsh Roman prisons. The oldest known valentine still in existence is a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife also while he was imprisoned.

Really? Imprisonment? How does this connect? Do we only express from the heart when we are in that place of feeling trapped? Is this why people have affairs? Is this why we stay in relationships that cause us pain?This makes me think of one of the fluffychickflicks I leave on if it's on to fold my laundry. It's the Wedding Date and Dermont Melroney (sigh* I love his crazy Elvis lip) plays the hired hand, Nick.  In the film, Nick tells his "employer" that people have the relationships they want and what keeps them from having fulfilling relationships is the inability to let go of basically their own imprisonments.

And then here is his method:   Nick Mercer: Close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close... your... eyes. You're safe. You can relax. I'm not going to kiss you. He's gonna be so sorry he lost you, so stop worrying. Forget the past. Forget the pain. And remember what an incredible woman you are. You do that and he'll realize what he lost.
Kat Ellis: Holy crap. You're worth every penny.

So, when you are feeling that imprisonment in your life whether it be in a relationship, a job, etc... Why not just let go? You can't really control it all anyway. So don't fight it. Take the time to stop, identify what is hold you back, and just open up and ask for what you need for yourself. It's worth a try, and as I coin the phrase to my kids (much to their chagrin)- "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."
So I'll leave you with this. Hopefully I'll be able to heed my own (and some borrowed) words and keep connecting to this road of "at last." I know I'll slip up and end up in a few ditches here and there, but thankfully there's people out there who I share love and a common thread to help me get up, brush off the dust, and continue. Everyone has them and they need us as much as we need them, and that what love is all about.

To all my loves, a note from a favorite for you.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.    -Kahlil Gibran

Bloom!

The art room smells weird.

If I had a quarter for every time I heard,  "It smells weird (or insert adjective of choice here) in here," I would have my kids' college tuition paid.

This conversation just happened today with one of my art students. "J, it is always so quiet over here in front of my desk. Then you decide to move here and chaos is ensuing." And my chaotic student just turns and looks at me and says with a big grin, "Awww, thank you!" I can't help but laugh.

I feel pretty blessed because most of the time, I really enjoy what I do. I get to guide students to create and figure out problems and I get to see them light up when they have made something really cool and they know it. Sometimes during a pure work day, they just let go and become immersed in what they are doing. They forget I'm there just because they are creating.  And... the best part of the job is... they are hilarious.

These are actual comments I've heard just in this week:
"Wow! That is amazing and scary at the same time!"
"Look at what my grandma let me have for my art project, isn't it cool?"
"Have you ever thought squirrels look like ninjas? I saw one do a roundhouse kick."
"He may be cool, but there is no way he can hold a chihuahua like I can."
"Who named it a smock anyway? It sounds like a disease that gives you warts."
"Did you see M's project, it is really awesome. You have to go look at it."
"That is straight-up creepy. How did you do that?"
"Is my clay on fire yet? Can I see it?"
"You are so weird sometimes, but I like it."

It is an amazing place. We discuss interesting topics and current events and we listen to all different genres of music while we work. Sometimes we work quietly, sometimes we work outside, sometimes we stand, and sometimes we are on the floor. I wish all classrooms could foster this kind of environment. It makes learning memorable. Unfortunately, it isn't conducive to the rigorous schedule of testing that looms over many a teacher's plan book.

I tried a new project this term. I was cleaning a closet at school and found two giant garbage bags that contained old boxes for a fundraiser. At first I thought "just recycle them," but then the artist in me shouted, "What!? what!" So we have been literally going "outside the box" to transform their boxes into something else. It has been awesome to see what they come up with and very cool to see that an open-ended project where the possibilities create so much interest for them.

This isn't a job for everybody.

First of all it is messy and you have to be able to both encourage chaos while keeping chaos under control. I breathe clay dust and cough for weeks, I get covered in paint and ruin my work clothes, and I have found glitter in places I won't name. I write grants every year for materials because the small amount of money I get each year doesn't begin to pay for what we use in the first nine weeks of school. I come in on nights and weekends to make sure a kiln has shut off and make runs to get a specific paint color that a student needs to finish their masterpiece.

Students have gotten angry with me and me with them. Students have come to me with problems and all I could do is give them a hug and let them cry  and be strong for them and then I go home and cry because I wish I could just take them with me or do more. At the end of the day, regardless of what has happened, they know I care.

Secondly and sadly, this profession is under fire in ways that I would have never imagined when I chose to pursue a career in education. The things that really bother me are mostly coming from people who haven't really spent much time in a classroom, have no intentions of doing so, and really just want things to look good on paper so they can take the credit if they do and then have the safety-net that blame can be placed elsewhere when it doesn't (Take that run-on sentence, fools!). In the words of my retired teacher mama, it inhales greatly, but sometimes I just think it SUCKS.

The bottom line is... I work hard and I teach because I love it. I enjoy my students, they ARE the reason I teach. They are not trying to increase or decrease my pay based on their test scores, they just want know that when they come to school someone cares that they are there and wants them to learn something. They don't want to be bored and they want to know that what they are learning will be applicable in their lives beyond the school day.

I may not the best teacher they will ever have, but I will do the best I can and I will help and encourage them to do the same. And occasionally, I may spring for a new air freshener.

Art is prettty baaaaad! (the good kind of bad!)

You don't know me, but...

Sometimes I meet my edge with the realization that I need to create a new energy within myself. I usually feel the need for action to get my blood pumping and my brain moving. So what do I do?

I run...to the graveyard.

I've always felt a true sense of calm in a graveyard, and I recognized it at an early age. I loved learning about my ancestry out in the old country church graveyard with my mom on Memorial Day and Christmas. I like the flowers, wreaths, sometimes toys and trinkets, and other decorations. I enjoy seeing the very old headstones with moss growing on them mixed in with the very modern graves with pictures and elaborate etchings. The graves with little lambs on them always soften my eyes and the obelisks make me dizzy, but I like them all.

I love reading all the names from different generations and noticing which old fashioned names have become popular again. I cherish the verses and sentiments that loved ones felt so inclined to engrave to honor those who have passed. All of these facets draw me to graveyards and each time I visit even though there is a strong sense of the old, I always leave with something new.

When I started running again, I began to work my runs around two different graveyards, one public and one for veterans, a small open-to-the-public meditation chapel, and a bridge over a natural spring. These are the places I rest when my heart is pounding and my legs feel like jello. This is where I collect my thoughts that I've been tossing around as I try not to turn my ankles on the broken pavement of crumbling sidewalks. This where I cry, pray, laugh, sing, create, critique, process, and get inspired. These places help me remember that I can and will keep going no matter what obstacles may be in my path.

I feel called to these places and while I'm there, I am connected. I think about the wisdom gained during one's life, the lengths of life cycles, and how we move beyond the shells of our bodies. I make rounds, visiting a marker of a friend who left too soon, wondering what folks were like based on what I see on and around their graves, and occasionally seeing and sharing with a friend a memory at the grave of his amazing wife who lost her hard-fought battle with cancer.

I really like the idea of a bench as a marker and I can still remember the day I found my favorite place to sit. I ran by it, stopped, ran backwards, stared, and eventually sat down. This was bench made of stone, it had two small ceramic urns with bright daisies in them and the script under the name and dates said, "To Be Continued..."  On the top there was a deeply carved labyrinth. I sat down and breathlessly said, "You don't know me, but...."

I have shared some of my greatest fears and hopes with the owner of this bench. I have laughed until I cried and have felt waves of grief lift from my shoulders while sitting on this bench. I have walked a little taller and moved more gracefully after sitting on this bench. I have traced my finger on, studied, and constructed several labyrinths because of this bench. I can go there in my mind even if am in another country. It is my ice cave where I find my power animal (straight from Fight Club, (Slide!) ), my sunset on the beach with a delicious fruity beverage, and my bank of blooming hyacinths beside my childhood home.

Yes, I realize that to some all this may sound a little off, so feel free to judge if you are so inclined. But I look at it this way...
I'm not hurting anyone, it helps me without worrying about placing my burdens on any of my friends and family, and I find humble awareness in these spaces where I can rest from the stresses that hold me back from who I truly am.

May you all find your places of peace so you can play in this life, even if it is among the memories of those who are no longer living.

Hot Lips

Lip balm, anyone? I keep Burt's Bees in business.

My son can't stop kissing. He is an affectionate little bug. He loves to cuddle, must have a good snuggle before retiring in the evening, and gives fantasic hugs. When I leave him in the mornings, two goodbye kisses and hugs just will not do. We have a minimum of three. I know the time will come when he will no longer want to give me a hug or a peck on the cheek if anyone is around, and I truly dread it.

However, we may have a small problem. Apparently he loves all the girls and he is the kissing bandit, stealing sugar left and right as he swings his way through the monkey bars. He has pulled cards at school because of his insatiable urge to smooch.
We have talked about this in length at numerous times during his life and he just can't esssplain himself, Lucy! He will resist for a short time when scolded, but then he is back at it within a day.

He has always luurrvved the ladies. When he started walking, he would follow my more apple-bottomed friends around to pat their bottoms as they had just become reachable. It was like he had just been waiting to walk for that purpose. A cassanova to the core, or perhaps a better description is a pint-sized Pepe le Pew!

So what does this say about the man he is to become? Perhaps he will be a lover, not a fighter? Maybe he will be a fantastic husband one day, the kind that tells his wife how beautiful she is and really means it. Hopefully his heart-openness will serve him well in life.

I keep telling him that, "Son, no means no, you can't just go around kissing people that may not want to be kissed!" My friends say he will learn and maybe it will just take that early experience of trying to steal a kiss from the little girl who lays him out on the playground.

For now, I'm issuing a warning. Parents be warned... Pepe is on the loose and he may try to kiss your daughters. He means no harm, he is just full of affection and likes to lavish it on those who happen to be within a vicinity of a playground near you. I'll do my best to help guide him towards being a good man, but honestly, I'm just grateful that he is past his biting and flashing stages(fingers crossed at I type that).

Moving On

I have kids doing yoga in my living room RIGHT NOW! They asked to do it, they put in the DVD, and they are doing it. This is soooo cool to me. The smell of crab, feta, spinach quiche and pumpkin bread is seeping from my oven. We spent the afternoon playing soccer and climbing jungle gyms in the park. This was a good day. Maybe good doesn't cover it. This is stellar in my book.

Yesterday I was blotting my eyes to see if anyone could tell I had been crying before dinner at church. It is simply amazing to me how quickly life can change directions.

I saw a little quip today about a comedian who told a joke and the whole room laughed. Then he told it again and again and again until no one was laughing. And the moral was... if we don't laugh at the same story so many times, why do we cry over the same thing time and time again?

So, why do we? Those kids in there doing yoga are not holding onto the things that upset them at the park. They move on. The don't remember the times they have really had their feelings or pride crushed. They move on. They keep trying new things and trusting themselves and others simply because they have to do it in order to grow and growth is ultimately what childhood is all about.

My hope for myself, my family, and my friends is that even though pain can feel as though it will never release it's grip sometimes, that we will have that knowledge of growth, that choice of moving on, and that promise of the next day.

...Cause when you stop dreaming, it's time to die. -Blind Melon

From The Start

One of my favorite quotes is,

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,

  Love like you'll never be hurt,

  Sing like there's nobody listening,

  And live like it's heaven on Earth."  William W. Purkey

I'm sure you've heard it before, and it's one of those that you either really resonate with or you just don't. These are words that come into my head in moments of pure glee and joyful wonder. Granted they are not always at the front of my chatterbox of a brain, but somewhere even through some of the thickest muds, they are there... waiting for the chance to come through and bring that little playful part of my soul back where it wants to be.

So, that's my start. I'm just a woman on that path towards light, towards laughter, towards joy. It is not easy, but I know it is worth it.

While a lot of my Joy comes from within, my surroundings definitely have influence. My daughter and son surround my thoughts often, so I'll just give warning, if you read this blog, you're gonna hear about them. So, here is the brief intro... Daughter is a fun little girl who loves to read, learn, and try to boss her little brother who does not want to be bossed in any way and does want to climb, jump, splash, and spill and never clean up! They are both pretty typical and true to themselves and like to wrastle me to the ground so they can try to poot in my face! Make a "life is good" shirt out of that!

As for the other facets in my life, I will surely elaborate. Don't worry, I'm gonna blog like no one is reading.