here and now

What an amazing and glorious week! As Guy and I weeded this evening, he looked at me and said, "I feel like I've been on a week-long retreat!" He then listed the activities that have driven us forward on our journey this week.

Grace Uncorked on Tuesday, where Fr Michael Gaitley talked about God's Mercy and the Sacred Heart. And where we met some people whose faces we'd seen many times, as well as some we'd never seen. Where we shared wine, snacks, and fellowship, laughter, knowledge, and even a few tears. And where Mom rediscovered the joy of helping out.

Mass for the Feast of the Assumption on Wednesday with Joseph, who actually asked one of his Monsignor questions, and got a really good answer. And where we ordered some Boy Scout popcorn.

A fireside with dear friends, and dear friends of theirs, where we talked about all kinds of things, with faith stories and questions mixed in, and marshmallows and s'mores, too.

A birthday dinner on Friday, celebrating not just his 19th birthday, but 20 years of living here in PA. And afterwards, talking with Mom about prayers and people who need them.

Saturday, we spent on the river, paddling with a group of adventurers from our church and another. Where we came upon a 'water path' through a grass island, and I asked Drew if he thought maybe Eden had a stream like the one we were on. And where we saw swathes of purple flowers, herons and cranes. Such beauty, such peace, such power.....

Afterwards, we picked Mom up and ate dinner with our fellow adventurers.  Love, laughter and stories, food and wine, unexpected interconnectedness and forever friendships. And a feeling that we've known each other before, or forever, or both.

This morning at Mass, hearing a Missionary speak about his life in Ethiopia, and the children and families he works with there, and the amazing faith he exuded. Then the sudden realization that that familiar feeling comes from the folding of time, and actually sharing in the same prayerful events, putting us in the same place--the Sacred Heart--and being so thankful I cried.

Then later going to meet that same Missionary at a friend's house, and discovered I was sitting and (literally) breaking bread with someone very special: certainly a living Saint. He shared more stories of the people, the children, the challenges, the love, the miracles he's seen. He blessed a young man who stopped by and is leaving for Marine Corps basic training in the morning, and gave him a Miraculous Medal to keep him safe. After the young man left, he asked questions about the training, with genuine concern. He promised to pray for the boy by name. I have no doubt that he will. Before we went, I was figuring we would be there for half an hour or so, and excuse ourselves; two and a half hours later, we were wishing he did not have to leave for another speaking engagement.

The blessings of this week are many and great. I know that I am being prepared to give back in equal measure (circling back to Tuesday's talk and lessons), and the amazing and fantastic thing is, I am not only prepared, I am so looking forward to it! I don't know exactly what will be asked of me, but I have never been more willing. I looked at Guy tonight, sitting by the fire, and said that I thought this week had been the best week. "Ever," he added, with a smile and a nod.

I am, we are, right where we need to be.

wordsmithing

I've worked with lots of words today. Lots and LOTS of words. I listened to the words in my own head when starting the computers for the day, and used context clues to decipher an email sent to me by an English teacher. I passed on some words stuffed full with my unspoken opinion. I suppressed some choice words when the L O N G stream of words I was entering into our database was suddenly interrupted with an "administrative error" message. (If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd have some rather interesting words to share about the timing of that particular error, but I don't really want to get into that here, now!)

I shook my head at words that amounted to crazy talk from an otherwise sane person, then later shared said words with someone else, who found them to be equally inane. I listened to words that I found to be frustratingly judgemental, holier than thou, even, and could not, myself, find the words to say that would ultimately only have an affect on me. I didn't want to bring more personalities into the discussion -- although, any personality in it may have alleviated some of my distress! These were words that were hitting a little too close to home, and yet were quite off base. Stick to the facts; the ones that matter, not the ones that are shiny and intended to distract. (Life is a word problem.....)

I shared words that were uplifting: about my dad, shared interests, and widows' pence, questions and answers and how to find them both. [Yes, we shared Bible talk in the public school library. Words are pretty cool.] Words I sang from the two CDs I listened to this evening alternately uplifted and drained me; wonderfully emotional words expressing deep, heart-felt thoughts, dreams, fears.

I came home from work and spilled some words on a page, somewhere here in a draft, that may never see the light of day again, but needed to get out of my head, out of my heart, before they spoiled the landscape of my soul. Words of contempt for those who have never walked in those shoes -- not for any reason other than they think they wouldn't. 'Contempt' is too strong a word for what I really felt, but the words burned like acid in my mind, stirring up stronger feelings than necessary. Spreading them across a page diluted them, gave them less power, less control of my head, so I could get back to myself, to the realness, the facts. I played Words with Friends.

I read words that confused the heck out of me, simply because there was no proofreading done. (Giving the benefit of the doubt there--could just be the guy still has no idea how to put together a newsletter. Or has never cross-referenced anything.) I checked, and double-checked, then re-checked those words, and still came up a few cents short on meaning. Oh, well, some words are just not worth as much.

But....

Most importantly, I wrote words that meant something to me. Words that cleansed me and warmed my heart, while wetting my cheeks. Words meant for one set of eyes alone. Of all the words I used and encountered and shared today, those words are the most dear, and most important of all. And with them, the dark-time will be less daunting. I am enlightened.

made it myself

I hate clothes shopping. I can't stand the hunting. The trying on is bad, too, but every once in a while, the right stuff ends up in my arms and the trying on is bearable. Who am I trying to kid--that rarely happens. More often, I wind up pulling, grunting, squinting and twisting, only to ultimately wonder (often aloud) who the heck thought this piece of clothing would fit a human being! They look great on the hanger, or on the mannequin (who, by the way, was not wearing arms when she was put into that sling you call a 'top'). Of course, it is so easy to forget that the hanger is only two dimensional and the mannequin does not need to breathe.

Despite the frustrations of clothes shopping, I do happen to have some clothes that I actually wear--and like! I've found a couple of lines that work well with my body, and I've learned what fabrics like me and which do not. I'm still working on the whole "wardrobe" concept; I much prefer fun pieces, and end up with minimal "goes with"s. Oh, well, I make it work, and tend to feel pretty good in the process. Of course, some of that has to do with the key pieces that I have made myself and love to show off!

I used to downplay the articles of clothing I made. When someone would comment, I would respond politely, and skirt around the answer if they asked the origin. I don't know why I did this. I don't know if it was some level of insecurity, or a feeling that if it was homemade it was worth less. Or maybe I just didn't want to get involved in any discussion. At all. Nowadays, though, when I am complimented, I follow up my thanks with a cheerful, "I made it." Which is invariably followed by a "What? You made it?" I smile sweetly and nod. Just once.

It's not the noticing that has changed for me: it's the personal affirmation of my talents. The "I made it" does more for my emotional health than the original compliment, or the subsequent discussion. I don't tell about making my clothes for the "bond" it might create between me and the compliment maker, although it is nice to chat and take that little break from our days. Rather, talking about it is more to remind me that I am someone, something, other than what I do, day in and day out. I feel most alive and productive when I am sitting at my sewing table, focusing on guiding the fabric under the needle. When I am matching fabric with style of pattern to create something that says "ME!" I love that feeling of "me-ness" that comes from knitting a scarf or a wrap or socks that no one else will ever have.

Where once I was concerned how I would be regarded if people know that I make stuff, I now see the value in sharing that bit of myself with others. And I guess that's what it came down to: I was feeling guarded. Now I have, for various reasons, no reason to hide behind myself.

I love it!

paint chips and possibilities

I sat down to write this morning, and the words that came I deleted. Three times. Then I wrote about nothing. The first three times, I felt reactionary and defensive, confused and, I'll admit, curious. But everything I started to write sounded like bait to me, and that is not healthy. It's been a rougher couple of days than I would have liked, but at the same time, wonderfully enlightening and laden with growth and progress. Discovering that a confidante was not as supportive as originally thought was difficult enough; but then to discover that someone who never had any interest in me suddenly wants to know what I have to say on a daily basis is much more disconcerting. (Just ask, I say.)

What I really want to write about is paint chips. I'm considering them today, and getting excited about the new possibilities they represent for me. Having a project is a great way to make it to tomorrow. Especially since tomorrow is always uncertain. A friend (not the aforementioned) just fixed the railing on our balcony, and suddenly there is so much I want to do! The balcony was once my favorite "room" in the house. I remember spending hours there each evening in the summer while my husband took our oldest son to the pool: a welcome break for a stay-at-home mom, pregnant with #2. Once the baby was born, I would spend many mornings out there, nursing him and reading in the morning sunshine.

I'm not sure what brought me in from out there....probably a busy toddler the following summer.....but sometime after that, the railing was damaged in a storm, and going out there with children was just too risky. And like so many things in life, "priorities" got in the way of repairing it.

Which leads me to today. Steve fixed the railing over the weekend, and ever since he came over to measure, I've been picturing the new space. Knowing that the railing needs to be painted, I have been considering colors for the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the doors, and looking through my old scrapbooks of ideas for making it special. Pinterest will be my next stop, along with a visit to a dear friend who has sold her house and is selling much of their stuff in preparation for a move. I'm picturing the floor, and wondering what furniture to put on it; a rug for the spring and fall? Who can I call for electricity? And what will I hang on the walls? And I'm running through my favorite inspirational quotes, and wondering how they would look on the railings, or along the ceiling.

New beginnings like this one are joyful, abounding in anticipation; much like my life right now. I have been through the wringer, but, like the laundry referenced in the expression, I have come out cleansed and refreshed; ready for another challenge. For a short time, I considered the benefits of starting over in another place and time. In reality, however, that just amounts to running and hiding; to not facing what brought me here to this place and time. Making the decision to stand my ground has turned out to be far more fulfilling, productive and mature. Instead, I will make this space better, along with myself and my (important) relationships.

Not every project turns out as expected or anticipated; and not every relationship turns out to be the friendship we hoped for. Both are frustrating. The good news is, we can always start again--another new beginning, filled with joy and anticipation. And a little bit of anxiety. Okay, more than just a little bit sometimes, but I refuse to be paralyzed by it. I'm learning to take more risks when they benefit the ones I love, including that bit of me that needs my nurturing. Before snow falls, I hope to have a new spot to write, to contemplate, to meditate, to pray. Not just on my balcony, either, but also in myself.

I am my favorite current project.

nature's music

I have felt like a cannon ball for some time. Thick and heavy, unyielding, and yet pushed to do, act, be. I haven't been writing, running, dancing, sewing because I have felt crammed into the barrel of the cannon. Stuck in a long dark tunnel, with occasional noises around me, a circle of light ahead, and waiting for the big boom.

Now I'm left with a headache.

Recently, little by little, I have given up myself. I stopped dancing. I sewed less and less. With those things, I told myself it was because I was now running and doing yoga, and something had to give. But I realize I have not even played music in the background of my life. My CD collection, while not huge, is pretty diverse, and there has always been something on as the soundtrack for my day. Again, I told myself it was because my job did not allow me to play music--or even muzak--so I just got out of the habit.

Turns out, all of it was just falling away. For no real reason.

This morning, I woke to the low rumbling of thunder. Not the crashing, crazy storm kind, but the refreshing summer storm kind. Both the thunder and the rain were so gentle, the windows could stay open. The lightening more a glimmer than a flash. I let the sounds wash my mind clean.

I still have the headache. I still hope today is better than yesterday. But today starts my search for the old me. The me I like the best. I don't know if I will go back to the things I used to do, or if I will find something new, but I'm not rolling to the back of the cannon, waiting for the fuse. I'm going to be the confetti that comes out of the circus cannon.

Yes, that's me. Confetti.

a wonderous avocation

The Buddha says, "Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it." I have the quote hanging on my mirror, and I've seen it every day for about a year. Yet the full meaning didn't occur to me until yoga class today.

~~this little light of mine~~

One of the differences between going to a yoga class and practicing at home on my own is the prompt to set an intention for the day's practice. At home alone, it's so easy to forget, or even purposely skip this important step in the process. Today, we were encouraged to set an intention related to something we love to do, and that we would like to make our life's work, or if we are already working at our life's dream, how we can more fully open up to the universal ability to find true happiness. As I considered this, Shani went on to encourage us to open up and search less diligently, thereby allowing that for which we search to appear before us.

~~I'm gonna let it shine~~

I love practicing yoga because there is peace and stillness inside me that I don't always recognize or honor. Some days, I'm too busy or rushed to sneak in the 20-30 minutes from Yoga Download, even though when I do fit it in, I feel like a better person. The focus on balance and breathing brings me back to my center, back to the me that I like to be. When I am centered and balanced, I can see my happiness, and it's not in 'stuff' at all. My life's work, my world, is to create. I am at peace with the possibility that I may not ever make enough money to live off of, but it is very important for me to give myself to creating.

~~this little light of mine~~

In the meditation today, we were encouraged to surround ourselves with people and circumstances that make our life's work possible. Without realizing that I was working toward this moment, I have been so surrounding myself since my father died. A friend who is a minister told me one day, when I confided that I was getting a little tired of people saying they knew 'exactly' how I felt, and that I should just 'move on,' that if they were not being kind, there was no reason to keep them. Ever since, I've been a bit more selective. More guarded, at times, but really just more aware of the fact that I am me, and I intend always to be me, and only me. As a result, I create more for fun, and I also have "discovered" two opportunities to find homes for my creations (as random and varied as they may be), and I have a blog. What more could I ask for?

~~I'm gonna let it shine~~

Why did this strike such a chord with me, since I was well on my way on my own? All because of one big, wonderful, daunting word. My Buddha quote tells me that I should find my heart's happiness, but this morning, this was posed as our "responsibility." That changes everything! All this time, I've been looking rather nonchalantly--yet finding success, albeit moderate success. Imagine if I had seen creating--my world--as a responsibility rather than as something I find to be fun, entertaining, relaxing, centering. My life could change, and I am open to it, open to the universal aid of those before me and those ahead. Good things will happen, I'm sure of it, and in my spare time, to boot.

~~let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!~~