Another Mother's Hoverboard

Thursday, January 29, 2009

oath.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory ... that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson


Walking through quaking fear of being remarkable
i realize now, i owe it to *myself* as well as my relationships
to actualize my truest self.
i shall not live to make others feel comfortable with themselves
but by being the most comfortable with ME by being ME
in all facets.
right now, i am not serving others as i have in the past and this
does not please me, or help me feel most myself.
i can do more.
i will do more.
i will be the person i want to be.
i will be remarkable.
this is an oath to myself. no one else.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

inaguration of a lifetime....

today my mind is all over the place, like a map of my life is unfolded flat before me. and i am perusing the pushpins of my all my social journeying. i think about my participation in the youth group called Future Problem Solvers. i think about my volunteer work in high school. i think about my year of Americorps service. i think about all the dialogue shared with fellow public service majors in college. i think about the work i did with a group home filled with essentially homeless girls. i think about the peace rally we attended with our very own children. i think about today. i think about my path and my part. i think about my voice and my power. i think about our country. splendid in it's potential. provable as is evidenced by this election. and what's *wrong* with being inspired? what's *wrong* with being moved into action? what's *wrong* with believing that a group CAN be led authentically into being better? into positive social change? nothing is wrong with that. nothing at all. barack h. obama, you are blissfully burdened with a heavy responsibility inciting all this excitement in our country. yet i think only someone *capable* of following through could raise all this hope. hope is good. nothing false about hope. yes, we can. change the world.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Fibers of love.

Ezra. i love this boy with every fiber of my being. in fact, at this point, i believe he IS the fiber of my being. each day i feel fortunate enough to simply BE in his presence. to listen to his amazing mind. to get to volunteer in his class where they clamor and compete "Ezra! Ezra!" to talk to him. He is a very special boy. I am biased of course, but I believe there is something extra there. I just cannot wait to see how he shares that with the world one day. Last night, at 1:40 in the morning I awoke to him standing next to my bed. He had on his oversized graphic t-shirt. It had a rocking chair on it. In heavy metal font below it reads "I ROCK". Haha. The humor was not lost on him, and he adores this shirt. He had on his monster pj bottoms and the saddest little face I have seen in a long time. It took me asking a few times to hear the unusually small voice tell me that he had "thrown up". OH no. Then I realized we had put the kids to bed *together* in Remy's large bed. Oh no. He followed me down, without words. He stood by and watched me wrestle the layers of vomit COVERED sheets off the bed, while still keeping Remy asleep there. It was gross, I was tired, and sad. These things are never fun. And then I heard him behind me, "Let me guess, Mom. You are really mad at me." WHAT? Oh good lord. Have I *ever* told him I was "really mad at him"??? Not that I can recall...But my child. My child. Darlin. How in the WORLD could I EVER be mad at him right now? I told him just that. Finished ripping the sheets off, curling them in a ball near the basement stairs to deal with later, and took him to bed with me. I cuddled him, and realized, how fragile we ALL are. Inside and out, and every which way. Even in his moment of phsyical weakness he was concerned about my emotions. New fibers of my love for him were sewn in last night. He is stitched in tighter, every day.

archives!

an old one, dug out from the vault. well, really kodakgallery. i love how remy looks the same age as ezra, if not older. it makes me realize that 2 and half years apart really is close. i love that.

Monday, January 12, 2009

my heart is a poem.

my heart is a poem.

tragedy defines itself, in words of a life lost
and a future put to sleep.
children with no father
parents with no son
a sister with no brother
a wife with no husband

it's interesting how an
absence can cause a
such intense swelling, fullness.

pain thick and heavy.

it is confusing and sobering.

the disturbance in sleep
in focus
all of it seeps into a powerless
sigh that wants desperately
to make something beautiful
out of this

but there is only a putrid
glare
everywhere.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

authentic sadness.

the shock is thick
i clear my throat
as
choking on the words seems
quite plausible:
he died.
the words that really,
should not be all

that surprising, as in:
it will happen to all of us.

sometime.
it's just that when it does,
and when the news is told to us,
the world closes in tight,
suffocating us

and for a moment everything stops
and it is only that person whom we
can think of, their final exit
and it's as if they,
themselves might be gripping
you tightly around the shoulders,
supporting your weight, as you
see them off. they hold you,
in case the awe of it all, may be just too much.
it is the only sure thing we know of in this
world.
that we MUST leave it.
and we fall to pieces
just the same.
rip brandon.

Monday, January 05, 2009

my new church=me.

i recently started attending the northshore unitarian univeralist church (nsuu.org) and i pretty much adore it. it is everything i believe and would want my children exposed to. everyone there is so truly authentic and kind. and tolerant and compassionate.

words not heard in church: sin. worship. lord. christ. salvation. damned. pray. hell. heaven. jesus christ.

but the best part is, many people there may believe in jesus and many of those words. and that's OKAY. but it's not dogma. it's a liberal place. where people can BE together in community and explore our OWN spiritual truths.

the sermon about zen buddhism yesterday was amazing. rev. freida articulated SO much of who i am, and then when one thing she said would lend itself to a thought or question in my mind, she'd address it! in the next breath! she is a gifted writer and thinker. and being in her presence. in the presence of ALL of those people, i feel myself at such peace. calm.

our kids are at home there. and that was instantaneous.

we are all better (already) for joining this blessed community. yay.

Saturday, January 03, 2009

*zen moments*




this is my family. these are the only glimpse i have into this *seemingly* fun adventure. i was home, watching the other girls. i can still appreciate all of this. and what i really really like is that the expressions they wear on their faces are much like the hats they wear on their heads. they are simply THERE. there is nothing else at all going on. just that moment. just those emotions. just those grins. those eyes. each breath. one after. the. next. pure and utter zen. perfect.

Friday, January 02, 2009

captured in time. just right.

perfection
zen
melodies
smiles
peace

what, what

i think it's pretty remarkable that this was 6 months ago. it feels like yesterday. is this how the rest of my life is going to go? like my eyes blink and *these two* will be taking THEIR kids on vacation? no. it will not. i will make sure to slow it down. to be in the moment. and even more than being in it. i will take some time like this, to RECALL those moments. assigning even more meaning to these memories...so they will never be taken for granted. it's easy, especially in our cultural climate, to always being thinking toward the future. to think of what next. what we NEED next. things. stuff. trips. appliances. cars. but i think really, all i need is them. tony. ezra. remy. and time with them. we have slowed down quite a bit lately, and really tried to just *be* together. lots of family movie nights. lots. and sleeping in together. and taking walks. together. i want us to not get distracted by *stuff*. stuff gets broken. gets lots. old. replaced. relationships, even in death, are forever. making the most of mine, now.

wrapped up with a bow.


waking up before the rest of them, i brew the coffee, fold the quilt, organize clutter. i greet remy's new "big girl doll" with a smile and then think of her: a big girl in her own right. asleep in *my* bed still, with her daddy. safe. i recall hearing her fear a flight away from her. a gasp perhaps, a bellow, something that jarred me awake. sitting up waiting, it took only moments to hear her frantic pitter patter. she was coming. she was frightened. panting she swatted at each step with her tiny little hands as she climbed the steps, determined. she scurried into my awaiting embrace and when i asked her what was wrong, she kept it simple: bad dream. i pressed, curious, and asked. "what was it about?" she lowered her head to her chin and nestled in closer to me, "i don't want to tell you." and that was that. her vulnerablility only goes so deep. such as with her, always. it makes me think of how both remy and her brother, ezra are growing into their own people. it makes me think of their personalities, budding and new. each day. they reveal something about who they are. authentically *them*. i remind myself NOT to do what my mother and others have done with me, my family. i will not box them in. i will not, in an proud effort to "have them figured out" ever 'tell them' who they are. or expect that they need to KNOW that just yet. i will resist the urge to ask them "what they want to be when they grow up" in a way that suggests that this MUST be decided now. never. i want to continue to unravel them, each their own rolls of ribbon, beautiful and continous. it is not necessary for them to ever dress themselves up with a bow. real childhood, real people are messy. on the inside.