Yuletide Cheer

I love this time of year, and not just because I live in Florida and the winter season usually carries relief from the sweltering heat which accompanies most of the year. I love it for the extra sparkle and light which seems to cover everything from the houses on our block to the light poles downtown. I also love it for the sparkle and light that accompanies the souls of my fellow human beings as they carefully choose special gifts for loves ones and give what they can to people who need a little (or a lot) of help this holiday season. Maybe it's my imagination, but I've noticed that the people around me this year seem a bit more willing to donate food, clothing, time- whatever they can to assist someone else who is spending the end of the year in a state of need. It's not a difficult thing to donate food and/clothing. There are dropoffs all over the place for both- our YMCA is sponsoring a food drive, our homeschool group collected food to donate at our Christmas party, and the local UU Church has an ongoing food drive to help our local community. Publix has food donation tickets that one may purchase to help benefit the hungry, Toys for Tots held it's annual toy run last weekend, and Calvary Chapel encouraged people to fill a shoebox with gifts for donation. I have observed people engaged in such acts of kindness this year, and it reminds me that I have so many gifts in my life that I have not earned. So many blessings fill my everyday, and I'm grateful for them all. I consider this and realize how much recognizing the gratitude in my heart makes me want to share the joy of the season with others. In sharing, the joy multiplies. Plus, I feel it's important to teach our child that giving of ourselves is vitally important when it comes to the health of our society, and to us as spiritual beings. In giving, my own gratitude is made larger and my pride shrunken. I'm humbled by the realization that I should be living in this giving spirit year-round. It shouldn't take a holiday to remind me. I know what one of my new year's goals is going to be in 2012.

The symbolism of the winter holidays are a bit different depending upon one's faith. For some, the lights of the menorah remind us that we should be ever increasing the light we bring into the world. For others it means the birthday of the Son, who came to bring peace, deliverance and light to a broken world in desperate need of grace. For some, it means the re-emergence of the sun, as the winter solstice arrives in the year's turning and our days slowly begin to lengthen. I hope that whatever you celebrate, you'll be sure to lend your light to the dark places which need illumination. And I hope you'll enjoy much sparkle and joy yourselves as another year moves toward closing and a new year is birthed.







Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Heart Guides

When we left our house to run errands today, our eyes were met with the sight of several ibis, wading in the lake that has settled at our driveway's end. My daughter and I stood for awhile, quietly watching, not wanting to frighten them into flight. I snapped a photo and edged forward. Snap! Another photo stolen, this at closer proximity, and still those graceful birds remained.

"Why don't they fly away?" whispered my daughter.

I wasn't sure. Could it be that they had some sort of inner radar, letting them know it was okay to trust? Even as we started down the driveway in my car, the birds stayed calm. I slowly edged past, and they meandered to the other side of the drive, unbothered by our intrusion, focused on the business of gathering food.

How often during my day am I distracted? How frequently does my heart stir at something I read, something I hear out on the street, something my soul is nudging me to recognize? How often do I ignore the deepest cries of my heart for true and meaningful connection with God because I'm afraid? I have trust issues with God, to be sure, but this is something else. This failure to fully engage comes from being frightened of who I might offend, who I might shock, who might think me a hypocrite. And this lack of trust that things will work out okay, even wonderfully, if I can only keep taking baby steps in the right direction, keeps me hungry, unable to fully nourish my spirit or feed anyone else's.

My heart has been deeply touched and stirred over the past three months. I don't think I can walk backwards for long because my eyes keep searching for that glimmer of peace I discovered back in August, that tiny spark. And that shimmer of light and love is right up ahead, waiting for me to contribute, to add to that wonderous light that is God loving the world.

'Tis a lot to ponder on a Friday night late. I'm blaming it on those trusting birds.




Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Little Blues

It seems I've come down with a touch of the latest stomach virus, though I've been mostly in staunch denial of it all day. I've reached the point now where denial makes no difference, my belly like a storm and my head spinning when I stand up and my face feeling hot. It's one day before my little one's birthday and I need to be well for celebrating the anniversary of her day of entry into the world. We have plans to attend to, gifts to give, love to spread around in our little home. Apparently, the stomach virus doesn't care about any of this, and I'm quite angry with it.

Another feeling (besides that queezy, nauseas pang) has arisen today. I'm feeling a bit melancholy, sad with time's quick passage across these last seven years. Seven years!!! It seems like just a short while ago I was rubbing a soft, round belly, marveling with the hubs at the tiny waves that would ripple over it's surface as we lay in bed. We lived in a tiny apartment on the beach back then, new parents to be, filled with awe and nervous happiness. That our baby girl is now closer to ten than two is almost difficult to believe, even though we knew the time would fly by as she grew up.

I'm happy. I love experiencing each phase she grows through. She's my daughter and my little buddy, and as she learns from me and from the world I learn from her too. I applaud her courage, rejoice over her sensitivity, adore her beautiful spirit, frustrate over her stubbornness (no idea where she gets that from-ahem). I talk with her through the failures, kiss the boo boos, hug her through the hurts, and hope that, whatever I do as a parent, it's good and it's enough. But, as well, I miss peek-a-boos, and her little joyous giggles, the words she used to mispronounce and the times when all the world was her and my husband and I. There is wonder in the broadening of things, in being with her as she experiences life outside our home, outside our family bubble. But there's a poinancy to the part of parenting where we are encouraging our children to be more independent even though in some small way our hearts are breaking at the loss of what used to be.

So, today is a bluesy sort of Tuesday, preceeding the happy celebrations of Wednesday.




Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Season of Death

As Samhain approaches, we are moving into the season of death and rest, of shorter days and cooler weather.  Here in South Florida, things are mixed up a bit, as in this part of the country we are shifting into a milder season, when growing plants becomes easier and we spring more to life as our bodies become more energized by not needing to expend so much energy sweating. Living in South Florida, this is my favorite time of the year, though even when I'm living in northern climes I find a great amount of joy in the season of autumn, when the veil between the worlds is thinner and the leaves are doing their grand painted display. I miss the spookiness of the trees beginning to shed their clothing, the crisp chill of fall days tempered with bouts of Indian summer.  Where I live now, I search for fall wherever I can find her, in migratory birds visiting us for the winter, fresh breezes devoid of the heavy humidity we experience most of the year, and the rituals of autumn which always ground me and make me feel a little bit closer to the earth and to the part of the country where I was born and which I miss with a pain that I sometimes feel all the way down to my toes. 

Our garden began to fail a bit while I was visiting family and friends in Massachusetts, but it's bouncing back somewhat, happy to be relieved of so many hours of scorching sunshine. The roses were elegant a few days ago, but their cycles must include the sadder, withered blooms also. 


Something is eating our bougainvillea, though I've yet to determine the culprit.  This occurs each year, leaving the usually gorgeous plants stripped of leaves and sickly and thin. Inspired by the number of people engaged in organic home farming, I'm contemplating the start of a new vegetable garden.  With the economy in a tailspin (in spite of the supposed recovery some say we're now moving into) and our food sources being contaminated at every turn, the idea of greater food independence is extremely appealing to me, and we have room enough in our yard to host a small vegetable garden.  Even a small yield would be wonderful; I remember picking home grown peppers a few months ago, before our previous garden became unproductive (we didn't organize it well, making weeding and harvesting difficult, and something began eating everything in it before we had a chance to pick the vegetables ourselves).  I think the vegetables tasted better just for having grown in the very ground we live upon and for having been nurtured by our own hands.

Yesterday, I was overcome with anxiety.  Nothing seemed to be going my way, and I finally erupted in the bank when told that the teller could not print a check for me due to the printer not being operational.  I have found that this bank, in spite of levying so many fees on its customers as to be capable of fixing such things as printers, always seems to have some sort of problem going on.  More than a few times I've visited this institution only to be told they couldn't help me due to some situation or other. Now they are telling us we will be charged to use our debit cards (with a monthly fee) and I wonder why.  Surely, the service won't get any better!  Banks, like many other businesses in America, have forgotten that they are in existence to serve the people.  Customer service has been replaced with greed, plain and simple.  At any rate, because we are hosting company over the weekend, I wanted to have my errands completed yesterday.  Now, I will have more to do today and only hope that the printer at the bank is once more able to do its job.

We arrived back home in the late afternoon, back to our little oasis in the storm.





I walked to the hen house in the corner of our yard, and opened the hatch, expecting to see both hens pop excitedly out.  Only one jumped the coop; Molly, however, remained inside, appearing uncertain and out of sorts.  When I lifted her from her sitting place she didn't protest, but that isn't very unusual.  Having been attacked by a dog when she was a baby, she's used to me handling her and doesn't tend to peck at me or squawk very much.  Still, she was too quiet, too willing to have me holding her close to my body, inspecting her for possible injury.  I could feel that something was wrong, but I couldn't locate anything visibly out of place.  I placed her gently on the ground, where she began to teeter like a drunken man, hanging her wings downward in an attempt to gain a greater balance.  Her sister hen acted like her normal crazy self, even pecking me in the eye when I shoed her away from Molly, who she'd begun to harrass moments after I sat on the grass with her in my lap.  Thankfully, no damage was done to my eye, but I shoed her away in earnest then, and she finally wandered off to happily search for grubs and other insects in the grass.  I eventually placed Molly on the ground and allowed her to slowly walk about on her own.  She was shaky and I was worried, but I put her near our side door, where I could check on her often.  I kept telling myself that, even if it turned out that she was sick and we lost her, this would be a part of the cycle of life, that we are in the cycle where death is more recognized, and that after it comes an eventual rebirth.  This didn't soothe my nerves much.  I would miss seeing sweet Molly each day if she was no longer merping among the living (merping is my word for the sounds our girls make).  I'm not ready for her to pass over into the Summerlands, no matter how much I tell myself that death is part of the natural flow of life. I was suddenly struck by the idea that if she would just be okay (I've grown quite attached to our hen ladies over the past year or so) then all of the annoyances of the day would really be meaningless. I was overcome by the thought that most of the events which cause us so much grief are not life and death situations but only occurrances that create inconvenience.  We allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by little things like wonky printers and people driving at a speed of fifteen miles an hour in front of us on the roadway, but things like this are temporary and don't amount to much sadness or struggle in the greater picture of life.  It's the little miracles that effect us the most, should we choose to have our eyes open to them, the places where life seems to shoot up from barren ground. 



When I checked on the hens last night, both were sleeping on their roost, curious as to why I was poking my head in on them in the dark of night.  I felt a sense of relief, though I'm not sure how Molly will be today.  I still have errands to run, but I know that perspective is, indeed, everything in life. I can choose to be frazzled and angry, or I can focus on the things for which I'm grateful. Today, I'm focused on healing, on readying our home for a beloved friend's visit, on cherishing my beautiful and delightfully crazy daughter, and on doing my best to be a compassionate member of the Universe. 

I hope your day is filled with peace, and the perfect balance of dark and light.

Back to the Real World!

We've been back in Florida for a mere three days, and already I'm teetering over the ledge of Overwhelmdom. I'm fighting to stay sane amidst the chaos, though, and finding help wherever it appears to me in my daily readings. This morning I read something which reminded me that keeping a gratitude list and finding daily life stuff to add each day is a priceless and peace inducing endeavor. My own gratitude journal has sat unattended on the kitchen bar for several days, just waiting for me to scrabble pen across page. I really need to start that back up again, because seeking blessing in each day helps me to reframe the events of every twenty four hours. It's a wonderful activity, and sometimes the craziness of life takes me away from it. I need to make a conscious decision to nudge myself back.

With fall fast approaching, the scent of Mabon is drifting through the air. I don't know if I'll make it to any of the community festivities, but I'm going to pull some books off the shelf and blow the dust off some recipes, crafts and such. I reconnected with my inner Goddess during my northward trip (funny how being home sometimes has the power to remind us of who we truly are), who gently reminded me to pay more attention to my outward Goddess as well. This lead to my daughter asking me why I pay attention to so many different spiritual traditions. I told her that I believe spiritual truths lay hidden in more than one place, that religions provide pathways to the Divine. Many will disagree, but I find myself troubled by the idea of only one group of people having the key to spirituality. It's been weighing on me, and I've missed my more rounded spiritual approach. I love honoring the different ancestral traditions which form the tapestry of my family. When I pull out one thread and discard it, the whole picture seems to turn grey and fall apart. I can't explain it, but time and again I've found this to be true.

And now, it's time to get rockin' and rollin' once again!!!! Homeschooling needs to happen, laundry must be attended to, artistic muses cry out for creativity, and I'm thankful for the blessing of having a high energy personality. Sometimes.



Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Some Last Visits

It's Saturday, sunny, and warm. This morning my best friend came by to visit. He stayed to help us make a stepping stone with my daughter's handprint pressed in. Then he was on his way, and I was sad. Time passes too quickly, always, and the time gone can never be retrieved and relived. I'm in a melancholy mood today.

Tomorrow is 9/11, and the girl and I will be traveling. 'Tis a sad day for the events that took place; events that stole away loved ones and shook the foundations of our security. I'll be thinking about this more tomorrow, reflecting not only on the day but on the importance of not allowing one's heart to be hardened by the evil deeds of others. Evil tends to breed more evil when it's nurtured. We win, sometimes, by refusing to give in to that little voice within that whispers revenge. But it's not about winning, really. It's about breaking the cycle of pain.

May we all share love tomorrow, life thoughts rather than curses.

Sunny Day Funning

I know that "funning" isn't a word, but I make up words all the time and don't care. I think that part of being human is being creative, and why shouldn't that extend to words???

Today turned out to be one of those sunny summer New England days that I dream about when I'm up to my sweat dripping forehead in Florida in August. Or July. Or June. The swan boats were out, and we went for a ride with Grandma, serenaded all the while by a brave young woman whose soprano voice carried music across the Public Gardens. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was lodged firmly in my head for about an hour after the boat ride-an unfortunate side effect which sometimes occurs after encountering street performers.

And now...now I'm feeling a bit sad. I'm looking forward to getting home to see my hubs and our animal family. I'll be very glad to see my FL friends and to begin our new home school year and all of the activities that will bring. Still, there's this feeling in my gut, a longing in my spirit that tells me I belong here. It's impossible to ignore, for it's a "behind the scenes" sort of ache rather than an out loud, griping sort of thing. I'm focusing on the positive, but there's this feeling in my bones. I just don't know what to do about it. All I can do is keep on keepin' on. My fairy cards tell me to focus on my writing, and write away I will. Maybe that's my healing balm, or maybe that's my calling. Time will tell.

One of the local universities here is going to renovate this gorgeous old church for art classes:








They have a fantastic art therapy program here, which is a dream of mine, but even if I did live here it would be tough to do both that and to be the type of Mom I want to be.

But dreams are great motivators, aren't they?


Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A Deep Breath in the Morning

I awoke this morning to chill, misty air. Outside, from the deck, I can hear the songs of crickets and other insects, calling happily to the new day. School buses and automobiles and trucks rumble past on the street nearby, barely visible through the trees and bushes.

I stand in the doorway of my mother's house, taking it all in and feeling my own spirit humming with the energy around me. A new day is here! I wonder what it will bring, and I want to engage it fully.




Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

More Rain

It rained all day yesterday, sometimes hard rain and other times just that misty stuff I always imagine when I think about London. I don't mind days like this, but I'm grateful for that sun I see poking out from behind the trees in the back yard here.

We mall shopped all day yesterday and, that said, I really cannot afford many more rainy days during our trip! It was a blast, though. I don't browse at the mall very often; it's always been something I've done with my Mom, and it's a treat when I go north to visit her. We slept in today, my daughter and I, and it looks like maybe we'll have more shopping time today, then, hopefully, sunnier weather tomorrow. I really would love to do our annual Boston trip before it's time to fly back to Florida.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Enjoying the Compromise

The Universe has been sending me lots of messages lately about compromise. When planning this vacation, my head was filled with thoughts of doing the "traditional" things that we do while we're here in Mass. With the tropical storm and now, a few days of drizzly rain hanging over us (actually, it was pouring yesterday for awhile before the lighter rain began), plans have been altered a bit. The farmer's market probably isn't going to be among our stops today, but we will hopefully do our annual Boston trip on Friday.

When we flew up here I decided that, no matter what the weather did, we'd have fun, and we have. There have been sunnier days sprinkled into our time here so far, and even during the less (literally) powerful days we found places to eat hot food and enjoy a movie. Life is, indeed, what we make of it. Bad news about friends (one of whom suffered the premature death of her brother this week and another who has developed cancer, and a family member of mine who just passed away) has reminded me once again that life is short. We can choose the misery or try to find the joy where we can each day. Yesterday my Mom had to work, so Sparkle Fairy and I did art projects. First, we created sparkly painted flower magnets, then we designed a picture using foam flowers, butterflies and birds .




All the while, music sang away from the stereo in the den. We painted and plotted and stuck to James Taylor and then, later, to Celtic music. It was a great day in spite of our home bound state.

Today, it looks like the mall is calling. The drizzle persists and is showing no sign of letting up. It appears that we will, once again, be looking for joy in the comprise. But sometimes the best journeys are the ones unplanned.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hanging Out at Mom's

Ah, Massachusetts! After months of dreaming, I now find myself a week into my vacation with Sparkle Fairy and already sad at the thought of having to part from my New England homeland soon. Too soon. We arrived here just in time for the storm, but it seemed the energy of Irene only heightened my senses. I feel incredibly connected here and my nature girl instincts have been renewed. The Higher Power must, indeed be both mother and father, life and death.

This morning I spent some time pouring over Better Homes and Garden while pouring coffee happily down my gullet. Inspiration for fall decorating and celebrating abounds within these pages, and my own artistic muses are poking me in the shoulder. Of course, I keep trying to think of ways to turn my talents into a job that allows me to be home in MA more often. I really want to come home (have I mentioned that!). In the interim, I'm also seeking inspiration and ideas that will make Florida a more fun and happy experience. We'll be busy when we return, with a new homeschool year beginning and business (thankfully) booming.

We've done some fun things since we've been here, such as Roger Williams Zoo with my aunt. Some of the best moments, however, have been spent just talking with my Mum in her light filled kitchen. I'm so aware these days of times quick passage, which causes me to long for home even more. I wonder how many more of these precious visits we'll have. I feel almost desperate for time with my family, and once a year doesn't afford me the time I want and need to see every member.

We're on Tuesday now. The weather is gloomy, in touch with my saddened but hopeful spirit. Today I think we'll paint magnets with bright colors and sparkles- gifts for Mum when she returns home from work this evening. I'm focused on today, right now, and the journey of the next few hours.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Always, a Bigger Plan Awaits

One of the women in our homeschool group has a tag at the end of each of her emails which reads, "There's always a bigger plan".  Reading it the other day, it struck me anew how true that is, and how cool, in a way, this statement (and it's reality) is.  When I tie this saying into a faith in God, the bigger plan leads me to hope, to the possibility in something good coming out of a trial of life, in the glimmer of positivity emerging from something that I wanted to happen not occurring, or some material thing that I thought I was going to recieve not ending up in my hands.  I have trouble sometimes finding a comfort in this idea; I fight with God a lot, kick and scream and shake fists in the air when I don't get my way.  At the end of the ranting and pleading and crying, however, when I finally arrive at  my tired, resigned place, a tiny bit of possibility can shine through the crack in that door I firmly (and loudly) slammed shut.  If I open the door a bit wider, brilliant rays of sunshine can pour through the portal, illuminating the situation, possibly carrying a bit of peace with it.

My Mom is frantic about the hurricane currently barrelling up the east cost.  Her email yesterday carried with it waves of anxiety which I could feel just the same as if I was standing in the room with her when she typed it.  Irene brushed by Florida yesterday like a Victorian lady in a hoop skirt, the hem of her lacey dress tickling our coast, bringing with her bands of rain and  pleasantly cool breezes.  Far from the catastrophe predicted by weather forecasters, the storm provided us a welcome break from summer's swelter, though the weekend is supposed to provide us with ridiculously high temperatures.  From what I've heard about Irene's entry into North Carolina, the Victorian lady is now under the throes of major PMS.  I fear that the results of her visit there will be more violent and a whole lot less welcome. I still hope to fly out tomorrow, but we're on a "wait and see" basis.  I have to believe somehow that if Sparkle Fairy and I don't board that aircraft tomorrow then we weren't meant to be on it, that maybe there will be a reason for us to take another flight.  The tiniest moments can have the greatest of effects.  Who knows when we'll be called on to touch the life of another person, when us being in the right place at the right time will allow God to work through us, to allow us the beauty of doing his work?  Sometimes a shift in our plans might allow a bigger and better plan to emerge.

I was struck with an idea this morning so powerful that I dialed my husband up to tell him.  I feel strongly, in my gut, that we're supposed to go to North Carolina.  We've talked about this before, and fantasized about living there, but I always revert back to my desire to go home to Massachusetts.  Actually, that desire hasn't changed one bit.  Still, this morning, after my husband had very unhappily left our home to head to work at a job that daily heaps great mounds of stress upon his shoulders, saying that he wished he knew how to have a faith that would move mountains (or, in this case, just us), a gentle voice pierced the silence in my mind.  North Carolina.  There's a bigger plan.  Trust me.  I honestly have no idea what we would do to make money if we moved to North Carolina.  A recent conversation with a business associate revealed that land might still be purchased for a decent price there, and N and I have always said we'd build a log cabin home if the chance to live in or near the mountains ever presented itself.  Those too can be had at a reasonable cost. And, we have some family there; my cousin resides in North Carolina with his wife and their two small children.  When that thought broke through the sadness I felt over my husband's lamenting, the hows and whys didn't have much of an effect on me. I knew it was truth, down to my bones.

There's always a bigger plan. Wait and see. 

Grace in the Tempest

"He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
and He guided them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for His
unfailing love
and His wonderous deeds for mankind."
Psalm 107:29-31

Irene will most likely be providing South Florida with lots of rain and wind later today into tomorrow.  Following that, she is expected to move upward toward North Carolina, making landfall on Saturday at some point.  As I have family and friends in North Carolina (though not living on the coast), my thoughts and prayers will be with them over the next few days.  As far as my own plans to fly to Massachusetts with Sparkle Fairy, we will have to wait and see what transpires.  My hope is that we can still travel as planned, but, whatever happens, I will have to accept the situation as it presents itself.   Earlier today I received correspondence from a friend in North Carolina who was concerned with plans her husband had made to fly up there for the weekend (he works here in Florida still) being waylaid, further reminding me that I'm not the only person around here who is being made uncomfortable by the hurricane.  The most important concern for all of us is that we come out of this thing with everyone safe and sound.  Having a more reasonable perspective about the situation is a beautiful thing.

Last night I heard somebody say that God is good all the time, that He isn't the one who places stumbling blocks on our paths.  I agree with the first part, but lately I'm not so sure about the second.  I will stop short of stating that I think He creates terrors such as the Holocaust or 9/11; I believe those sorts of events are caused by damaged human beings caught in the grip of their own hatred and delusions, and I believe that God mourns alongside us when extreme horrors such as these occur.  Maybe, sometimes, He does gift us with challenges to our comfort and sense of well being, though.  Is it possible that He desires us to grow through such life events, that He wants us to turn to Him, to seek guidance while the storm is whipping our bodies about and we're desperate for even a glimmer of peace?  Since two months ago, when I was suddenly struck with a mad desire to pick up my Bible again and give the God of monotheism another try (I honestly cannot say what brought this change about, as I was happily trudging down the road of Paganism and enjoying the sights prior to suddenly being struck by a spiritual bolt of lightning) I've searched for answers from the Word whenever trouble has reared its ugly head.  What I've discovered is that, in these moments of sorrow and discomfort, I search with a greater gusto for words that will provide a balm, for guidance that will allow me to grow through the storms, for growth that will make me a better person.  Just over the past two days, I've discovered how self centered I can be, and I was fairly horrified at my own ranting and raving.  By last night, I was quite embarrassed at the Facebook posts I wrote lamenting about how much I don't want to be in Florida.  While I really do have a deep desire to move home, I feel these posts to be more fitting for a teenager than a grown woman.  That said, I've met teenagers who handle adversity better than I have over the past two days.  When serious changes need to be created in our lives, one must see the possibility in these alterations being made manifest and then begin to take positive action.  Nothing was ever changed by belly-aching to everyone who will listen.  In fact, though a bit of complaining might provide us with fresh insights and ideas from those willing to take us on in our moments of darkness, excessive moaning usually serves to discourage us further.  Indeed, I'd begun to sink myself the other day.  It was only when I looked up searching for the light that I was able to swim out of the depth of depression I'd begun to create for myself.  I'm quickly tired when flailing about in the sea of despair.  The difference between now and a few weeks ago is that  I refuse to let myself drown when there's a hand willing to pull me out. 

And THAT is grace in the tempest. 

At around 3:00 pm today, I breathed a semi sigh of relief, having learned that South Florida is no longer positioned within the infamous cone of destruction. I write "semi" sigh because Irene is still working her blustery way through the Bahamas and up the east coast. Since Sparkle Girl and I are flying in that direction on Saturday, I'm still not entirely in a position to feel comfortable.

Additionally, once I got over my own sense of an improved situation, I realized that the Bahamas are still in a situation of danger. A knot of shame began to bounce around in my gut; I've been ranting about my travel plans being disturbed, but there are people out there who have major upset to deal with, the kind that brings uprooted trees, flooded roads, roofs peeled back like the tinny tops of sardine cans. I have experienced these conditions and they are neither fun to live through nor are they fun to clean up after.

Tonight, my prayers will be with the Bahamas. I'm not going to say I'm not happy that our chances of traveling on Saturday have improved, but I do have an incredible sense of my own ability to take a situation and look at it only as it pertains to me.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

No, Irene

Okay, so anyone who has happened to notice the Twitter feed to the right of  here will be well aware of my displeasure over the past couple of days with regard to living in Florida and possibly having to endure yet another hurricane or tropical storm.  Scrolling over my writing, I realize that I sound bitter, which was not my intention, though I certainly felt rankled this morning after watching the news.  I've lived here in Florida for many years now, and moved here when I was young enough to have had dramatically different hobbies, hopes and dreams than the ones I entertain now in my more (ahem) mature years,  Not that I'm THAT mature, just more so than when I first arrived in what the locals like to call "South New York".    Upon arrival here, my likes tended toward running around on the beach, clubbing, hanging out at tattoo parlors, and other such pursuits.  Nowadays, I'm a happily married mommy, sun allergies keep me away from the beach for most of the year, I very much dislike loud music and crowded places, I don't have the money for tattoos (and am not inclined to have any more of my skin decorated anyway), and my wildest dreams have me scrambling up mountainsides and hiking through old forests (the first of which I will not  find here in South Florida, though we do have some beautiful parks tucked into various locations, and I've at least had the chance to wander around below the cover of breathtakingly gorgeous live oaks, moss dripping from wildy twisting arms). 

These days, my heart and soul long for my northern home.  I have a young child who barely knows her family (neither I nor my husband have family here), and as I grow older I'm much more aware of the fact that everyone else is growing older as well.  Time seems so much more precious now than it did many years ago, when the clock moved more slowly and my days weren't punctuated by moments I wish I could share with those of my own blood.  I've been making due with yearly visits home (and I'm grateful beyond words that I've been gifted with these trips), but even two weeks of visiting never seems to be enough.  Inevitably, I leave without having seen someone with whom I wanted to spend time, as well as incurably and deeply sad that the trip is over and that, once again, I have to leave the place where I now feel most at home to travel southward again.  Blessedly, at the end of my daughter's and my journey is my husband and our crew of happy animals, so at least there is something wonderful to look forward to, and it does provide a bit of a balm to my mournful spirit. 

Now, just before the wee one and I are about to embark on our northward journey, a storm is swirling out over the Atlantic. Actually, it's been swirling over Puerto Rico; I'm not sure where it's exact location is as I write.  Weather forecasters are predicting that the lovely Irene will strengthen to a category 3 hurricane (not good) but are unsure which trajectory it will take.  The best case scenario has it traveling over the ocean but still dumping lots of rain on us and tearing up our yards with gale force winds (just when our bougainvillea are beginning to bloom and grow lush).  The worst case-well, we won't get into that. Suffice to say the worst case scenario will not be like an autumn walk through Disney World.  Now, all there is to do is wait and prepare. I'm trying to refrain from further ranting and pleading with God; this morning's raving was enough to last me for quite some time, and I don't believe my poor husband will take any more without firing back a few expletives of his own.  Even the dog ran into hiding in the early hours of our day for want of peace from my tirade. 

As the day moved forward, I tried to focus on the idea that God has a plan, and that we'll leave for MA when we're supposed to get on that airplane.  I made sure that positive music flowed through the speakers of the computer while I worked, and echoed off the tiles in the bathroom while I showered.  I read my morning devotionals searching for answers and paged through the inspirational daily writings which arrive in my email inbox each day.  These tools did help; if I'm not happy about the possibility of a hurricane screwing up our travel plans (and trashing our yard, and possibly damaging our house) I'm at least not walking around the house with tears in my eyes.  My perspective has vastly improved, even if I'm not happy about this recent turn of events.  I'm aware that, in the general scheme of things, I'm very very blessed to be in the situation of life in which I find myself (storm aside).  I still am possessed of a longing for home, but I'm also enjoying what is going on in front of me right now.  And if nothing enjoyable is going on, then I'm at least trying to be fully present, and to have some faith. 


Recently, I read that the opposite of faith is mistrust.  If I'm trusting in God, then I shouldn't be filled with fear and a lack of faith.  In the past, I've had serious trust issues with the God of my youth and only recently have been dipping my toe back into the variably flowing waters of that religion.  It feels good, though.  I'm finding a measure of comfort in the readings and fellowship, in the sermons and in the connection I feel to Him.  It's been nice, so far.  Very very nice. I wonder if maybe this is just another test of faith, and if I'll pass or fail it.  I have felt, over the past month or so, a sense of not being alone, of being bolstered by a strength I didn't have before.  Sometimes I will make a decision and feel as though I didn't come to that conclusion on my own, because left to my own devices I would have dug in  my heels and been miserable out of pure stubbornness.  I feel like there's something to this faith stuff. 

But I still want Irene to stay away. 

Keeping an Inner Peace

It was 5:45pm and I was rushing my daughter to finish eating her hot dog and brocolli, the quickest meal I could make and still leave the house in reasonable time to make church at 6:30. As I woofed my own meal down, I tried not to get frustrated as I watched her savor over every bite, push her silverware from side to side next to her pretty melamine plate. At a little to late past 6:00, we were on the road and on our way. Everything was going great. And then we got to the exit. Traffic was backed up onto the highway-not a good sign, even at the tail end of rush hour.

As we crawled down the exit and, finally, made our way to the road which leads to the church, it became apparent that something was amiss. As I listened to the radio, the service in question began to broadcast and my anxiety increased. Here we were, so close, and yet something was keeping us from getting from here to there, and the radio broadcast a service I longed to be a part of. As well, my girl had been looking forward to taking part in the kids' program again. This routine is still new for us, but it feels good, like taking positive steps to join in a spiritual community and partake of a valuable message. Like listening and feeling the vibe and making an effort to say,"Yes, I want to hang out with you and your people, God."

As it turned out, the gates at the railroad tracks were stuck into place; no one was getting past them. Adding to my frustration was the fact that the police officers who had been sent to the scene were making no effort to direct us toward a solution, other than to abandon plans. Reluctantly, I drove ahead back to the highway and home. I though once to take a different exit, but traffic at that exit was jammed up, and by this time the clock had meandered to 7. I turned up the radio and listened to the pastor as we drove home, my little one crying in the back seat.

Earlier in the evening, my neighbor and I were talking about how sometimes God, for reasons unknown and sometimes quite vexing to us, makes the path He wants us to take difficult for us to embark upon. Even though we feel in our very bones that we're on the right path, things are being thrown in our way, blocking that path, making that path downright uncomfortable to be on. I think that sometimes God does this sort of thing to test us, and if we recognize these tests they can lead us to growth and even to a greater appreciation when we finally acheive what we've set out to do.

For me, I believe this test was related to something I've been trying to teach our daughter. Lately I've been noticing that she has great difficulty dealing with situations when they don't go the way she'd like them to. Fists clenched tight, she shakes her way through such situations, eyes squeezing out years. I've been working on this with her, this learning of coping skills, but isn't the best lesson taught by watching someone else "do"? I tell her that when something doesn't go according to our plan, we need to let go of the expectation and try to rework our plans into what is still possible. Tonight, I had a choice. I wish I could say that I passed this test without complaint, but I did not. What I did do, was turn up the radio, listen to the Pastor, enjoy the sermon as my little car sped back down the highway. When we got home, I turned on the lap top and watched the live video, speaking words of gratefulness that this option is available at all. It wasn't as dynamic as sitting, singing, swaying in the sanctuary, but it was what I could do. And it was still good.




Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Childhood's Fleeting Way

Flipping through some old photo albums over the weekend I was struck by how much our daughter has changed. Pouring over the pages, I could clearly recall most of the moments in which each shot was snapped, and yet, the time between then and now has passed so quickly. My heart lurched as I fully understood just how quickly my girl is growing, how little time we as parents have to be parents to a small child. I've been feeling extreme frustration with regard to how much time is stolen from my time with her. I've felt angry and upset that I never can seem to balance everything in a way that makes me feel comfortable.

As the day moved forward and the laundry was folded and the business work was typed and faxed and filed away, my frustration only increased. I managed to squeeze a few minutes outside with my daughter, walking behind as she pedaled her bike up and down the road, but the heat was opressive, even at 4:30 in the afternoon, and we didn't have much time left before I needed to get dinner on the table before the Hubs needed to leave for a meeting with friends.

I'm finding myself very much looking forward to our trip up north in a month, when I can focus on my little one without so many distractions and really enjoy being with her. I know that we all have work to do in this world, and that sometimes doing that work can be a struggle. I'm trying very hard to do the work set before me with joy and a grateful heart. That said, year six is flying past at an alarming speed and it will never be here again.

Walking the Talk

My daughter has been taking ballet for the past few months.  Each week, she pulls on her white tights and pink leotard and we run out the door (always just in the nick of time, of course) to the class, where she spends an hour stretching and jumping and dancing her little heart out.  Last week, however, I took her to a different ballet class, one slightly farther away but a bit more involved, and she loved it. The kids, all of them home schooled, were nicer, the teachers seemed to be more educated in the ways of  ballet, and my daughter was excited when we left to go home.  This past Tuesday, when it was time to get ready for class, she stated flatly that she did not want to go.  Apparently, the other class intrigued her so much that she is "done" with the old one.

I tossed around the idea of letting her stop going; she only had two classes left (now one class).  Then, I considered the message I was sending her by letting her off the hook.  Should I tell her it's okay to drop out of things just because we're tired of them, or is the message that it's best to finish things that we begin a more positive and constructive one (assuming, of course, that the situation one is involved in is a healthy one)?  I called the Hubs for reinforcement of the answer I knew was correct, then talked with the little one about the importance of following through with our plans and sticking with your team until your obligation has been fulfilled.  She wasn't entirely convinced, but she went to the class without much fussing and seemed to have  good time, though she'd hardly admit it to me.

How many things do I follow through on? I try my best most days, but I've felt a lot over the past several months that I could be doing a whole lot better than I have been.  My worst enemy is time; I never seem to have enough of it, but the reason for this problem is largely because I don't manage it well.  My mornings begin early enough, but I find myself caught up in a cycle of email checking, Facebook wandering, and reading that leads me into about three hours of awake time before I'm even considering hitting the shower.

I realize that this is insane, and yet I find myself repeating this habit over and over again, then berating myself when the day is over and my mental "to do" list is still glaringly long and neglected.  My Hub is fond of a saying which I believe to be true but which fills me with dread every time it touches my ears: "Nobody ever found success by leaving the house at noon time."  I understand this, I BELIEVE IT, but still I often find myself leaving the house at 12pm, or 2pm, or sometimes even 3pm, to begin running errands which could have been done at 9am, leaving a great chunk of the day open for engaging in life with Sparkle Fairy, drawing and painting and writing, taking care of our home and our animals.  Today, I squandered away the morning hours and then felt deeply resentful that the work I needed to do for our business took up three precious hours that I wanted to spend doing something crafty with our little girl. Never mind that I could have begun playing with her earlier and then felt absolutely no guilt at doing the work I needed to do in order to help make the money we need so that I can stay home with her in the first place.  And, as if the Universe was in full conspiracy mode against me, our computer chose this particular afternoon to run so slowly and in such a discombobulated way as to make me want to throw it out the window. Our computer is old, and probably needs to be replaced, but it usually doesn't give me so much trouble.  Today, it was as if my own negative energy was seeping through the keyboard and helping perpetuate an afternoon of self-sabotage.  Of course, the real sabotage had occurred much earlier.  It turned out the computer issue was related to the fact that was listening to Pandora Internet radio.  Apparently, the music radio site was too much for the computer to deal with in combination with all of the work programs I needed to have open at the time.  Goddess forbid I work without music, though!
I think it's time for me to begin holding up every moment for just how precious it is.

This means taking into consideration, at the day's beginning, that I have an honest and even extreme desire to make the most of my whole day, and that this might mean cutting back on computer time during the early hours of daylight and displaying a willingness to put the book down before the chapter has been read in full.  I really want to stick to this resolution, because the good stuff that happens when I'm more disciplined with myself is more precious to me than I could ever put into words.

When I prioritize my desires and obligations, life is allowed to take on more meaning, events flow, I don't find myself depressed and defeated at the end of the day, feeling like a failure in every aspect of my life that holds importance for me.  Tomorrow is a new day. I'll rise at 5am, wake up through my Friday morning work out, and then hopefully return home and embark on a new routine.  For now, I need to fold laundry and go to bed.  Otherwise, 5am won't be so happy.

Resiliancy

Life isn't always easy, though some days I find myself kicking and screaming and demanding what I feel would be the better option.  This past Monday, my daughter needed to have four baby teeth extracted (I hate the word "pull" with it's connotations of violence) because her adult teeth are trying desperately to come down, but the baby teeth refused to leave their comfy gummy homes.  Words were spoken between parents and dentists, x-rays were viewed, decisions were made, and Mommy worried and worried and worried about the trauma this experience might be to her little one.  While the visit to the dentist on Monday didn't make it to the top ten list of fun things to do at the beginning of the week, it went much better than I'd anticipated.  The nitrous oxide worked it's magic, the little one calmed, the teeth came out very quickly, and soon we were back home, Sparkle Fairy gazing in the mirror at her new smile.  At first, she seemed annoyed that she was missing the front teeth. By Tuesday, however, life had returned to normal. When I asked her how her gums felt, she announced that she hardly remembered her teeth had been taken out.  Pulling her small top lip upward gently, I could see the adult teeth like two tiny white crowns, read to grow downward.  Hopefully now they will take their rightful positions and we won't have any further trouble. The Tooth Fairie made her silver sparkle appearance on Monday night, and all was well in the world on Tuesday morning.   I'm amazed at the way young children are able to bounce back from life's smaller challenges (which, to little ones and sometimes to us big people too, seem huge), and even to life's larger issues.  My daughter really inspired me this week.

This morning, while sitting outside in the rose garden reading my morning books, I was dive bombed by a crazy dragon fly.   He flew in my face briefly before spiraling upward, over the wooden fence that borders the front yard, and past the big black olive tree.  As I  was smiling in startled glee at that encounter, a tiny, tiny bee buzzed my ear and began to hover directly in front of my face.  We were eye to eye for a moment, little bee eyes gazing curiously into my own green orbs before she hummed once again around my head and flew off.  As my eyes turned downward to my book again, a squabble arose in the huge palm tree by the lake.  Several birds were arguing about something, flapping out of the enormous fronds and then disappearing in the leafy arms again, squawking at one another about some sort of avian issue.  The noise and disruption actually added depth to my morning.  It made me take notice of everything around me, of the life that was happening while I sat in my chair, attempting to steal a quiet moment from the morning.   

In the midst of the clamor, life is good.

Friday and Heading into the Weekend....

This morning I sat outside on our dock, a cool breeze blowing across the lake, reading my morning books.  I don't always sit out there (sometimes the dock is cluttered with fishing poles, tackle boxes, and remnants from the previous day's play activities) but this morning I really wanted to immerse myself in the quiet that I always find when I sit out there.  It's funny that the dock isn't that far from our garden patio (it's not like we live in Maine, on a huge lake-this is a South Florida neighborhood and what we have is more a pond than a lake, truthfully, but it's still pretty and very serene) but the vibe is completely different.  Sitting on those wooden planks, the water element is close, and it's the perfect area of the yard to wake up in.

Alternately, I'll sit at the patio table, an old battered number scavenged from our across the way neighbor's rejected furniture pile on the sidewalk.

I have several different morning meditation-type books, but my favorite is Patricia Monaghan's "The Goddess Companion".  Each day offers insights inspired by a different Goddess; the author offers us glimpses of the feminine spirit from many different traditions; I credit her for helping me to realize that I could gain a lot by not just dismissing a particular religion simply because I couldn't subscribe to all of its tenets. I can learn something from the roots I grow from while still following the wonderful path I've discovered.  Yesterday's reading was about Judith.

 
I love that I can offer our daughter such powerful images of women and incorporate them into our spiritual path.  Also, I'm intrigued by the idea of a connection between Goddess worship and the Hebrews-makes me feel like my Judaism and my Paganism can reside together somewhat.  Of course, I'm mostly Irish with a bit of Welsh mixed in and there's a liberal amount of Catholicism in our family as well, so the Irish Goddesses hugely appeal to me, as well as other things Celtic and/or Irish.

Tomorrow, my girl has her last Pee Wee class-the year and a day ceremony which closes the school year of this beautiful youth group which has meant so much to Sparkle Fairy.  The women who started and who facilitate the classes are amazing, dedicated people who are very active in the local community.  The kids participated in lots of classes this year which included arts and crafts, drumming, exploring nature, and child centered rituals.  I'm very proud of all of the kids for staying dedicated and being a part of the group.  Lucky for me, the women who are responsible for the group are also founding members of the Sisterhood to which I belong, so I will have the opportunity to enjoy their company over the summer.   

I hope ya'll have a great weekend!

Watching Things Get Built

I've heard it said that human beings don't need religion, that we do just fine left to our own devices, that we will instinctively make ethical decisions without the guidance of this or that spiritual teaching.  I don't believe it, at least, not from where I stand.  I think I'd hardly be able to face the day without any spiritual guidance.  Maybe I'm just that sick, or maybe we all crave a spiritual nectar of some sort.  We might not all reach for the same brew, and some of us might abstain due to the nature of faith having much less to do with intellect than it does to trust.  I think we all need something, though, even if we won't admit it to ourselves. 

This morning, I've forgotten where my feet are.  Bills pile up and payment for work done is promised by others again and again, and the savings account drops as we try to support our business, hoping every day to get paid what we're due so we can replenish and thus keep that net of security underneath our dangling feet.  Today, I feel like I'm swinging from a tree branch, and my feet can't find the limb below.  I'm in the open air, with just a few leaves overhead as a canopy and too much sun burning my pale Irish skin.  I take a deep breath in an attempt to find some calm but take in the bitter ashes of fear. 

In the early morning hours, I noticed that the hummingbird feeder, which we placed in the garden to attract those beautiful flying jewels of birds, is attracting a colony of fat red ants.  Very happily, they are winding their way up a path of bougainvillea leaves and entering the small metal flowers, imbibing of the sugar water that to them has become an easily found blessing. 

Sometimes we have gifts meant for some but later find they're better given to others.  Sometimes, when we're staring at the tiny bud, we can't envision the gorgeous flower to come.  Sometimes we place nectar for birds by our doorstep only to discover that ants are the one appreciating the sugar water we've boiled and poured into the feeder. The universe has a plan unfolding, but oftentimes we're unable to see it and find peace, so caught up are we in the way that "things are supposed to be". 

Last weekend I attended a class, at the end of which was a guided meditation.  Guided through the woods to a cabin, I met with the Crone of the forest, and she whispered to me that I have need to be a healer. She also provided me with a clear and very definite message: listen.  I'm not sure if I've been listening today.

My husband and a friend are next door working on the kids' clubhouse, which over the years has become dilapidated and, lately, quite unsafe.  It's old, having enjoyed the laughter and raucous play of many children.  It's worn, but still wanting more laughter and play, a little more life.  I stand in the bathroom after my shower, listening to the sound of boards being ripped from boards, saws cutting, the clatter of wood bouncing on grass. If I didn't know better, I'd think that I was listening to the sound of destruction.  If I listen more closely, however, I might hear the sound of creation, nails being pounded into wood, the clack of boards being laid against boards, safety in the making.  A few grains of ash fall from my eye, and I shake my head.  Peering out the tiny bathroom window I can see the whole scene a little bit better from my vantage point now but it's really in the listening that I know what's going on.  
 
Listen.

I read from all sorts of spiritual sources, believing that different paths bear the fruits of different trees.  They all lead to the ultimate source, but sometimes the scenery changes.  This morning I sipped coffee and read about how, in order to receive the spiritual guidance we need, we must be able to really hear what is being said.  We must be able to listen and understand what we're hearing.  Really listen. In spite of the preconceived ideas we possess with regard to how things should be moving forward, we have to stop and listen.  In spite of bills that are due and promises which seem to be failing, we have to stop and find some trust. 

The class on Saturday also reminded me of the great lie which has been foisted on us by men filled with fear.  Some would lead us to believe that nature alone has nothing to teach us, that she's a cruel and senseless mistress whose creatures we should lord over and attempt to control. Foolishness! I perceive us to be stewards rather than lorders, brothers and sisters of creation rather than superior beings whose main purpose is to mold and shape and change what doesn't immediately suit our fancies.  This last bit doesn't seem to be working out so well, does it? I believe that, if we're watching and listening, nature has a whole lot to teach us.  Nature isn't separate from spirituality, but an integral part of it.  At least, that's what I heard this morning as I watched ants finding sweet food where they could, noisy birds over head advising me that sometimes softer speech is better received than wild cawing, the swaying of the mango tree reminding me that gentle bending and swaying  can sometimes prevent a snapping of my limbs (both physical and emotional).  Exclusive patriarchy has tried to take away the beauty of the Goddess and of nature, and left us starved for something we're unable to find because the food we need has been made to look like poison.  We've been thrown fertilizer instead, and even though it's half toxic we're so hungry we gobble it up, gaining what nourishment we can but still reeling, slightly sick from the unhealthy combination of truth and harmful misleading.  There is a great deal of truth in the teachings of different faiths, but sometimes it's difficult to disentangle the gems from the webs of words. Here too we sometimes need to locate the beauty from within the ugliness. Sometimes, too,  we need to just walk away.  Listen.   

Listen.  Listen to it all, and decide what makes sense to the ears within your soul, what sounds vibrate within not just your mind but also in your heart.

Don't discount the beauty of the moment just because, at first glance, things look ugly.  There will be time to slap on a little paint later, after the dismantling and reconstruction has lead to something far more secure than what previously existed. 

Bibbles and Baubles

I know that, on any given day, I need to try as much as possible to stay in the moment, to remember that the most important place for me to be is right here, right where I'm standing.  I need sometimes to just take a deep breathe, soak up every bit of beauty that lies before me, and find a tiny piece of stillness in my soul.

Some days, however, the voices of longing are just a bit too loud to ignore.  There is a place in my heart that wants from the deepest part of desire to be home again, back up north, where the pines whisper in the wind of an October night, and the summer sun doesn't make me feel like a chicken in a rotisserie oven.  I want to take our daughter apple picking in the fall and to her Grandmother's house on Christmas day, to the beach in the midst of July (my skin can't tolerate the sun here at that time of year) and into the cool of an upper Cape lake without worry of an alligator trying to chomp her up.  I worry that my longing might be construed by God/dess as an ungrateful attitude, that I might mess up all of the good we have going here in our life right now today.  But I don't feel an "unwant" for what I have.  I just feel a very deep pain at what has been lost, like a wound that has healed over but just. The skin is still raw in spite of the years between when I left New England and now. 

Pictures of the past show up in unexpected places, such as earrings spilled from my jewelry box, a gift from a friend years ago, when the heaviest question on my mind was what I was going to wear to the senior prom, or the pocket watch that used to belong to my brother but somehow became mine;  or the watch my grandparents gifted me with at High School graduation.  Mixed in with these things are hoop earrings my daughter created with her own tiny hands one year, when a dear friend's daughter came to visit from California.  My daughter adored her, and they spent an afternoon painting and creating beaded jewelry.  How I treasure those priceless circles of blue and green baubles, more precious than sapphires and emeralds! They were the most treasured of all the gifts I received that holiday. 

Since I've been so pulled in this direction, and since the longing refuses to leave, I began creating a vision board.  So far, it boasts magazine photos of various New England scenes: the craggy seashore, a serene lake on which floats a bright red skiff (this one chosen for my husband, who loves to fish), outdoor stone fireplaces, back yard docks in Maine, a bookcase packed from end to end and top to bottom with brightly colored books, in honor of my desire to to become a published author.  Every picture selected for this board will represent an element of life that one of us would enjoy having.  Even looking at it now, with so many white gaps staring me in the face, the vision board makes me smile, and have hope that some little (and pleasant) twist of life will allow us to make a positive change in that direction.

Of course, there are people I love here, and activities we're engaged in which we'd both be sad to leave.  I don't know where the gravel road of life is going to lead us, if we'll be here in Florida forever or if we'll head northward somewhere in the next few years.  I'm not pining away my days, but am enjoying every moment that's placed before me now.  Being homesick and desiring a move back to my roots isn't impinging on the current situation, but it is driving me toward achieving some of my goals.  Today I spent a little time working on my book.  Later in the week I hope to purchase the coveted airplane tickets to Massachusetts, the ones that will ensure (barring any unforeseen and unwelcome events) yet another summer's end trip of very deep joy, nestled in the arms of the landscape that helped raise me, sharing the sights and sounds and laughter with the little one. 

Until then, life is here for me to attend to, and it's a blessed life. It's a full life, much more than I'd ever hoped for. There are sea shells from the Bimini to appreciate:

Gifts from friends to treasure:

And the warmth of a home filled with love and blessings beyond compare.

Back to Life as Usual!

Happy Tuesday! We'll be home schooling, and back yard farming and probably having a butterfly release day here.  We've enjoyed our five little jeweled winged beauties for a few days now, and it's time to give them their freedom so they can enjoy fluttering around in the flowers and on the currents of a late May day. 

A New Promise in Every Day

Yesterday began full of promise.  Just looking at my little daughter, snuggled down deep in the covers (or sometimes sprawling out over them) makes me feel hopeful and excited for all the day might bring. 

I'd been dreading the day a bit, not wanting to socialize, not feeling in the mood for a big party, but as so often happens, once we arrived at our friends' barbeque and I saw the people who were there, many of whom I've known for several years, I began to relax.  I quickly found my place in the fray, grabbed a cup of coffee to give myself a needed caffeine boost, and wandered about, weaving in and out of conversation and settling at a table toward the back of the yard, under a well seasoned tiki hut by the water.  

I confess that I've never much liked large parties.  I've always forced myself to attend them, not wanting to appear unsociable and hoping that exposure would whittle down my walls of resistance.  Truthfully, though, I find more joy in the quieter moments of life: sharing a cup of coffee with a friend, hiking in the woods, walking our dog, working on a creative project with our daughter.  I consider myself to be a sociable person, but not a social butterfly.  I do best in small, more intimate groups than I do in large crowds where the noise and commotion can be overwhelming.  

 

While talking with a good friend, she told me she noticed an extra sparkle in my eye, a little bit more brightness about my face, a change of some sort.  I tell her that I've been reading this book, and started a gratitude journal, a blessings list, and it's been effecting me in a very profound and unexpected way.   This is not a book I'd normally read, but a fellow home schooler recommended it in an indirect sort of way, and something about the writing has really captured my heart.  Some healing over old hurts has begun, and a recognition that there are so many gifts we miss out on during the course of a day simply because we're not really paying attention.

I don't know where I'm going with this newest of wonderful spiritual emotion, but I do know it's bringing a greater peace into our home, a better feeling of ease into my heart, a lot more inspiration to keep moving forward when I'm tired and/or grumpy (these two traits usually accompany one another).  Does it matter? Does clinical rationale need to walk hand in hand with such feelings as this all the time? Usually I rationalize and analyze and scientifically pick things apart until I'm very unsure of what it is I hold in my hand.  I wonder if sometimes I should just let go a bit and flow along with the beauty.  I'm an artist-aren't I supposed to be good at that??? Sometimes, moments come in life that present me with feelings not just a tiny bit unlike the feeling I get when I think about attending big parties.  I'm resistant to change, afraid of where it's going to lead me, unsure of what I'm getting myself into.  In this case, I'm not really entering a big change so much as falling back on some old faith, renewing some old happiness.  Trying not to fall back into a feeling of complacency and asleepness. Throwing the window open wider.

 Still dreaming about farms in New England, my northern home, how we as a family might be able to find more joy in the every day process of making a living, how we can become more self sustaining, more able to contribute to the health and well being of others, more spiritually centered and connected together.  More focused on the grace of the everyday bowl of Cheerios and the mangoes in our back yard and the laughter of our child and the blue of the sky behind the clouds of late spring.  

 

It's all about love, in the easy moments and the difficult moments and the times when we feel filled to the brim with happiness and the times we feel lower than dirt.  It's about love; our appreciation of it and our need to give it away and how it inspires us to keep trying.  It's about giving and it's also about being willing to receive.