Flicker

I worked for 8 years as an occupational therapist before I had my own children. And those 8 years have marked me in such a way, leaving me to believe that sometimes trying to change a person, even when our intentions are best, is not the answer. I watched children struggle deeply with the knowledge that who they were pushed jaggedly against the grain of normal, and that to try to change to be more "acceptable" was the monster that haunted their dreams and hid under their beds. I saw children in therapy year after year whose progress was questionable against the regular development of age and experience. I met parents, frustrated, distraught, angry, and exhausted for and with their child, and with a health and educational system that did little to help or accept them. And then, I began to receive adults as clients. This, I believe, is what cemented permanently for me the belief that I would never be able to "fix" anybody, not in the way that parents with their pleading eyes wanted me to.  I met future versions of my pediatric clients in the adults, with the same kinds of sensory processing difficulties, but with years more experience in living and dealing with them. Most have been mis-diagnosed their entire lives, most were on medication of some sort just to manage. Some were managing their lives to the best of their ability, and some not at all, going in and out of therapy. In all of these clients, the compounding affliction was the same--the demolition or stunted growth of self-esteem, and the devastating knowledge that "normal" was an ideal they could never attain. After seeing all of this and being a part of these people's lives for just a short time, my conclusion was undeniable. More than anything, these people, these wonderfully unique yet tortured personalities needed acceptance. They needed unconditional love and assurance, from those around them and mostly from themselves, that they were perfect exactly the way they were.

I should be clear here in saying that therapy of all kinds can be beneficial to those who want it, and to those who have healthy expectations of what therapy can provide. As a parent of a child that does not swim with the current, I often do feel helpless at the struggles my daughter faces. I have urges all the time to want to "fix" her, mostly to save her from the emotional challenges she faces daily. With all the knowledge and experience I possessed as a sensory integration specialist, I balk now at my ineffectiveness with my daughter in that role. I was good at what I did then, but feelings of helplessness often mingle with the feelings of failure and I can't stop wondering what on earth was all my training for if not to help my daughter.

Unless.

My call is not what it was 10 years ago. I have changed so much from that eager "I can fix people with my super sleek skills" therapist I was then. I have evolved from that cocoon into the role of my life as mother. I seek light and air, crave the underlying, hidden story that each soul possesses. The mother I am is keen to feelings and guided by intuition, no matter how gut-wrenching that can be at times.  I have given up statistics and studies, odds, "practice makes perfect" thinking for a kinder, gentler, and more respectful way into what ails a human heart. And usually, that ailment is the belief that they aren't good enough, and that they will never be good enough.

I do know this to be true, that I am a far better mother than I ever was an occupational therapist, that I am far more invested in the emotional well-being of my daughter than in her performing "acceptably" against norms that change with every tide, with every moon. I am grateful that my experiences as a sensory integration therapist have given me the gift of understanding, of *seeing* my daughter for who she is, and perhaps that was the intention for that part of my life all along.  She is the candle that flickers in a windless room and I can celebrate that without needing to find a cause or an explanation. My role is not to fix, change, mold, alter, but to support, uplift, shelter, comfort, and guide. The preservation of her beautiful, artistic and authentic soul, buttressed by self-acceptance and self-love, and by the unconditional love of those around her, that is why I am here.

For those that also have a child or loved one that walks a different path, may love, patience, and acceptance keep your purpose clear, and may countless rows of flickering candles light your way...

xoxox

Water, water everywhere

What a weekend. I really don't know where to begin. Shall I start last Wednesday when the downpours in Boulder began and didn't stop for 3 days? Or when we and some of our friends left that very day and drove 4.5 hours to go on a rafting trip down the CO river for those same 3 days?

Water. Water was to be our future no matter what direction we went.

So as we set off on our rafting adventure Thursday morning, that was the first we heard of the flooding at home. We considered turning back and going home, but with the roads being closed and more rain coming to Boulder, there was little we could do. Moving forward seemed the best decision at that point.

So we paddled down the river with spotty blue skies and rain clouds off in the distance. Red, gorgeous canyons with lines of geological history imbedded in its wrinkles became our views.

I think all of our minds were wandering between here and there, the taste of bitter and sweet mingling in and around the rafts that held us afloat. We kept in touch regularly with friends and family from Boulder. I was feeling quite helpless and often guilty for the tranquil moments we were having with water. And then our challenge came...

We could see the lightening storm approaching with its accompanying cracks of foreboding thunder, rain curtains slowly dragging across the landscape like a dress too long. I dared to enjoy the white strikes of beauty that flashed across the sky, and chase away fear's creeping stench by focusing on finding a landing point for the rafts. Where we were, the Colorado river was lined with brush, rocks and cliffs, with very few landing points between campsites. Intrepidness was necessary at this point, for our own hearts and for our children's. We got separated from the other two rafts right as the downpour began. Thinking that they landed on the other side of the rocky island that separated us, we landed too with only the kind of grace that kept us from getting hurt, certainly not the kind that defined beauty. It was the only landable area nearby, but there was absolutely zero shelter to hide from the lightening. And then we saw the other two rafts emerge downstream.  Crap.

We scrambled back onto the rafts quickly and gingerly as mud sucked at our water shoes and threatened to make every surface we touched an accident scene. Lightening continued with thunder and rain everywhere. When we did catch up to the other two rafts they had stopped along a bank filled with brush, climbed up and had bushwhacked out of visibility. We did the same, dragging along our tarp to try to create a shelter for ourselves. There we were, all rafts separated from each other but within in yelling distance, huddled in various spots along the bank, among brush, bushes, and mud, waiting for it all to end...and then...

"Mom!!!! I found a caterpillar!!!!! Oh he is sooo cute! I am going to call him Squishy!!"

I think it was more like an inchworm, but after she found Squishy, the rain soon stopped, and we all emerged from our thicketed cocoons---renewed, re-spirited, and relieved...

(Sidenote: Squishy actually ended up not surviving the rest of the trip, reminding us how fragile we all are whether we are plucked from the comfort of our homes or not. )

The rest of the rafting trip was equally memorable with a few more lightening storms, torrential downpours, and group huddles under extra large tarps. Not to say we didn't enjoy ourselves with campfires, hikes, swimming and mudpies---bittersweet mudpies knowing what was still going on at home...

Meanwhile, stories from home of flooded basements, roads turning to riverbeds, and an entire town being evacuated kept me mindful of the contrasts of nature's powers, and just how fortunate we are to survive anything. 

And that's what we humans do best, we survive and we help each other survive. Floods, typhoons, hurricanes, lightening storms, ultimately we have no choice but to say "bring it". No matter what challenges come our way we figure out a way to face them, accept them, deal with them, and overcome them. And we can only hope that along the way that we learn something, and are forever grateful to experience another day.



We are home now, and our house miraculously managed well through the rain, only a few leaks despite being next to the creek. And with schools closed for the next few days, we look to helping our friends and neighbors in any way we can...

Sending love and prayers to all those in need...

Much love to you all
xoxo

Weekending...

I am here.

I am here, present among the pines and the wood that sinks deep beneath the surface. I dance in the mist that blankets heavy, waiting for the light that will break and scatter me along the grains of sand and stone.

In the armchair that nature has carved for me,
I will sit, and behold the sandwiched layers of time spread out before me,
I will listen, for the fleeting echos of ancient whispers by land, by animal, by river, by wind and rain, that sings for the caged spirit within.
I will watch, with scouring eyes for the next glimpse of magic that colors the sky, then gaze in awe at the life I've been given to witness such incredible things...

And it dropped out of the sky like paint dripping from a can. They ran out to meet it in search of gold and treasure, riches as far as the imagination can stretch. They said they coudn't find any. Look again, my darlings.

It's been awhile, I know, but there is no excuse. Life has been magical.

Cheers to you this Friday...

Peaches and the crave for solitude

This weekend we went to the Lafayette Peach Festival where we found delicious peaches from Palisade, CO, some as large as softballs. Peach tea, peach cobblers, peach smoothies, peach pie...yep, peach heaven. Well, that's all I have to say about peaches...

Yesterday, we went out to breakfast at a local diner. In the courtyard, I found a whole step covered with Mickeys and Minnies. I can't see a Mickey or Minnie without thinking of Orlando. It made me think of the life I had there when I was just a girl. It made me think of my family. As I watched a father play hide-n-seek in that courtyard with his 2 little girls, somehow the memory and the moment melted together to form a soft landing for the tiny ache that followed. The girls squealed in delight as the wide-eyes behind their hands watched their dad tuck around a corner. They bolted after him after a count of only 6.



The crave for solitude has been strong these past few days, but not the quiet kind of solitude. It's a restlessness, like the flickers of a waking fire just waiting to burst from smoldering ash. When my mind wanders to places other than where I am I know it's time to fan those flames with a slow exhale. Sometimes I forget that I can't breathe deeply, restoringly, without first exhaling...

Monday love...

Joining Amanda for Weekending....

xoxo

Yaw

I have felt this yaw before, arriving with the cool, subdued mornings, and the shifting shadows in the late afternoons. Summer is coming to an end and once again we alter our course for new beginnings. My absence in this space has only meant more presence in my daily life. Family visiting, a birthday for the boy, edible mushroom hunting in the woods, all of these things have begun to form the final bookend to this sanguine summer.

We stared at each other for what seemed like a hundred minutes...

Aspen Bolete

Hawk's Wing

And so with the bittersweet taste of transition on my tongue, we move forward with haircuts, shoe shopping, and earlier bedtimes.
As I hunt for the the final morsels of summer to savor, I wish you a fine finish to your week...

xoxo

the tonic of wildness...

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” ~ Albert Einstein



“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.” ~ Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books.” ~ John Lubbock

“We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.” ~ Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

Wishing you the best of weekends...

xoxo

delight and the looking glass

I've been quite the shepherd lately, a herder (possibly a hoarder) of unharnessed delight.

To name a few, little things, as they always are:

This book I'm reading.
This festival last weekend, full of pickers, fiddlers, foot stompers, dancers and musicians--memories that will serve as my musical muse for months to come...
This new to me music that had the entire field of festivarians up on their feet dancing.





And lastly, the hummingbirds visiting our new feeder at the kitchen window. Most birds bring me joy, but these flutterers bring utter awe to everyone in my family.

Good things happen all the time, but delight happens when the child inside stirs and takes over thought and limb--like an ignition switch to heaven on earth. I am addicted to this kind of delight. When this child breathes fresh air, it is the closest I ever get to the sweetness that is an unfettered soul.

Soul talk, you know I love to. Recently I discovered that there is a name for my idealistic musings. A romantic. I do believe the darkest things about this human life, this human world, can be tempered, remedied and reconciled by the goodness of humanity, despite our flawed natures and self-destructive ways. I do believe that all of us have a way out of the complex maze that is our mind. Darkness is hinged to light no matter how often despair takes hold. Two sisters of the same seed. Delight, joy, beauty, creativity, imagination, the appreciation and pursuit of these things provide the nectar of life, the things that we cannot live without. No matter what we do with our lives, is it not the nectar we always hunt for, tangible or imagined? I relish in experiencing feelings and emotions, seek to understand them, look to nature for some explanation, and hunger for intuitive musings, maybe even as signs from a distant beyond. Idealistic--yes, blinded--maybe, naive---sometimes, with a child's heart and an open mind, certainly, I try. I try to enjoy what I have, with all that I am, now, here, and today. My greatest fear is to be that grumpy old woman full of spite, wondering how time has whittled me down to bare nubs cloaked in worn, leathery skin. I have no desire to live a long life without the joy to fill it's marrow. And may that joy be revealed to me in all ways, no matter when the night falls.

I must have spent half my day yesterday watching the hummingbirds, waiting for them, listening for that trill.  At one point there were five of them swooping--dancing and floating, as I watched them delightfully from behind the glass. I was frozen for minutes at a time as they hovered, perched, then hovered again, even watching me, too, through the same looking glass.



Delightful weekend to you all, dancers, hoverers, idealists, and romantics or not!!
xoxo

A message

This was not going to be my original post today. Originally I was going to write about my weekend and my recent obsession with hummingbirds. But within the last 14 hours I have randomly come across the same message from two different mediums: dance and the spoken word.

Last night:

This morning:

The message is clear, the message is frightening.
Are we listening?

much love to you today
xoxo

Painted stones

He politely puts his paw on my face every morning, rumbling low, hoping that soon I will wake to see him waiting.

We collect plume, my daughter and I. The brilliance always leave me thirsty. Ohh to see his magnificence!! To watch him take flight! Never in the wild have I seen him fly, not yet. But like a dream I wait, patiently, I wait.

The aches in the working muscles of my fingers tell me it's never too late. There are new memories being made here. A daily meditation, a welcomed vibration, like the beat of a drum against my chest. From the inside, or the outside? It's the same either way.

She colors everything she touches, that girl, leaving a trail more beautiful and less ordinary than before she arrived.

There are painted stones everywhere, ripples made by the most insignificant actions. We aren't meant to feel them all, but when I do, I swear, I can feel the earth move...

Happy Friday and weekend to you...

xoxo

the hummingbird's wings

It's just been that kind of weekend, summer in fact. Flying with the slight of whim, scheduling and canceling plans at the last minute, some hours just lazing by with a little bit of reading, a little bit of crafting, a little bit of banjo, and a whole lotta polaroids. Friendship was a theme this weekend, and I clung to the laughter, the conversations, the sharing of food and drink. And with every single beat, I'm watching my kids change, my husband change, the season's change, my life moving as quickly as the hummingbird's wings. I linger, I hover, all the while praying that somehow, somewhere, my memories are storing what my film cannot.

The blog world feels like it's changing (or is it me)?  From the wanderings I make, and even from my own time or lack there of that I spend in these spaces, something is different. I visit old friends and still peek at new ones, but I sense we are shifting, some moving on, some transforming into something new.  Me? I'm just hanging on to the day to day. Not the kind of cliffhanger hanging on, where I feel like I'm going to fall at any minute, but the "enjoying the view" kind of hanging on. The kind where I just want to remember why I am even here in this space. To wonder and question, remember, and honor the life I've been given, and to navigate and discover the inner marriage between the 2 parts of me: the human and the soul.

I guess that is why I write what I write. The longer I am out here, the more I see how much we all have so much in common, how we have battled similar battles, questioned similar questions, struggled similar struggles. In the end, we all just want to remember why we are here, to notice the things we don't want to miss, and to record the things that make us beautiful and resilient, no matter how fast our days move, just like the hummingbird's wings.

Monday love...

xoxo

joining Amanda