katiemae_days

my alter ego

 

Before i lived in the pacific northwest, I lived in Boston. otherwise know as the city. While I lived there, I was an urban girl at least that's what I call myself. I lived in the urban hoods of Boston over the span of seven years mainly the Back Bay, Jamaica Plain and a final three-week stint in Somerville on my way out of town.

I loved the city. I lived the city. Because I had no car nor wanted one, I took the train (the "T") or bus to work or rode my bike to work most every day. For exercise, I ran. Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall through the sun, snow and icy rain. Along the Charles river and through the back bay and in town down town. I worked just North of down town in an office building and dressed up for work. I had too. Stockings and all. Even carried a purse that probably matched my shoes.I spent money on clothes and shoes. I think my feet were smaller then.

I lived in old houses either with one friend or many. Friends who are still near and dear even though we now live thousands of miles apart. In Jamaica Plain, I lived with musicians, bartenders and graduate students in a big, old house. One of the beautiful parts of living in that particular house was that music filled the walls daily, nightly. Combined, there were probably well over six hundred cds shared among house mates. I made dozens of mixed tapes; in fact, I still have boxes of them. I'll never toss them. They are my reminder of my old days.

On weekends, we often went to hear live music. I remember wearing black. Alot. Getting dressed was never very hard since I just had to figure out which black shirt to wear with which pair of pants or skirt. We'd hop the train or cab to Kenmore Square in Boston or across the bridge to Central Square in Cambridge. Ahh, memories of the "Middle East" cafe one of my favorite places to see music. Pita bread, hummus and rock and roll in the name of "Treat her Right", "Blood Oranges"and "Morphine." My last year in Boston, 1993, I saw Nirvana the night before "Nevermind" was released. Now that was exciting. I saw the Smashing Pumpkins, Buffalo Tom and Bob Mould, not in mega amphitheaters but in small clubs and bars. As I write I'm listening to one of my favorite albums, "Palomine" from my old days by a band called Bettie Serveert. Music was a central part of my Boston urban girl life. Yeah, music, work and grad school.

I watched several baseball games at Fenway Park and drank beer in more than a few irish taverns.

I wore more make-up back then. Eyeliner. In my early days of the eyeliner scene, I drew an unintentional wobbly line of shimmery green or blue. Finally, I turned to black and dark brown but oh how I shudder now when I take a peak back.

In my urban days, I caught the train to New York now and then and was in the bigger City in the flash of an eye it seemed. I lived in fairly close proximity to dear college friends and saw them often. Flying to see family meant nothing more than a 2 or 3 hour flight. Or less.

My urban girl days cover most of my twenties. Towards the ladder part of that decade when I was rounding at graduate school and working full-time for an amazing not-for-profit, I knew I wanted to see more and take a peak outside Boston town. I flew with a friend to Seattle. I was smitten. Perhaps the romance of "Sleepless in Seattle" or "Reality Bites" seeped deep in my bones. Whatever it was, the west coast feel of the great Northwest hit my soul. I flew back to Seattle one year after I initially visited. I stayed with an old friend I knew from back east who'd moved west. That week, through him I met friends who became my sisters. I decided that week I was going to leave Boston.

I worked another year, finished grad school and packed my bags. I left on a Sunday in the rain. I cried. I was leaving friends and family but I was ready to go. I had a car now for my drive west, a hand-me down from one of my older brothers. Driving felt new again since I'd not been doing much of it in those last seven years. I put my pedal to the metal purposefully and as I rounded the corner of the street where I was temporarily living, I soared inside while the tears of change and leaving rained down. Driving a car towards something new, somewhere new was thrilling. I realized this was my journey. I was in this moment feeling the exhilaration of everything unknown. I picked up my friend in New Hampshire and spent the next five days on the road as we made our way to Seattle. We pulled in on a Friday night in late September 1993. I don't think I've looked back except in missing the friends and family I don't get to see quite as often as I used to.

The first weekend I arrived in Seattle I rode my bike with a friend to Discovery Park along the Puget Sound. There we ran a few miles and rode home. I'd been running on flat city streets in Boston and now I was running up and down big hills on the street and off on trails. I knew as I huffed and puffed making my way very slowly to the crest of each new rise that I had some work to do. Getting more fit as a way of life became a central goal for daily living. I cast aside diets from my former way of life and began eating healthier, more balanced. I started thinking less about how much I weighed and more about how strong I felt. I remember reaching the crest of one big hill feeling my eyes well as I looked to the west towards the Olympic Mountains and the Cascades to the east. I live here I shouted out to myself. I live here. I felt the goodness of my decision to move. I drunk the moment in and savored it.

As I settled in to my new environs, I felt myself shed a few layers of my old self engaging in new experiences, new music, new friendships. I hiked and backpacked and camped high in the mountains. In winter, I learned to hike up trails in the backcountry on skins and ski down. I learn to drink a good microbrew. I found a great job teaching and counseling at a local community college. I took the bus to work or rode my bike an hour to work or back and carpooled. I was creating my new space, designing my new life. I dressed for work but in a whole new way. My once panty hosed legs now donned funky tights. Straight business-style skirts and jackets gave way to loose-flowing skirts and dresses and wide-leg trousers. i grew my hair longer than I ever had before. I knew always I loved Boston and who I was there, what I accomplished but this move marked my personal evolution in the making.

In the first year I moved here, I met the person I would marry seven years later. I have learned that meeting someone when you are in the waters of figuring out just who you are has its challenges. Challenge is good, it grows us I believe. A year after I married, I became a mother. A gift immeasurable. For me, motherhood provides a mirror shining light deep in my soul revealing layers of my own history and of who I want to be. These selves, my east-coast urban girl or me in the Northwest or who I am becoming now are all of me. Layers that make me complex, shape my story and being.

The journey continues. Life changes. I don't hike in the backcountry now. I ski the lift area with my girl. I don't run often. I walk fast and go to boot camp. I still eat well and strive to eat better. I lost my taste for beer but I do like a good glass of red wine. And the music, well that's a constant that sweetly remains. And those flowy skirts and dresses, they do still hang in my closet but are dominated by a good old pair of jeans that I wear most every day with a t-shirt and sweater.

This is my personal evolution in the making and I have to remember to let it keep happening.

The gift of hanging with a old, dear sister-friend this past weekend and getting a taste of my old music inspires me to remember my old days and all of my self. These days are not gone and not forgotten. I played Palomine this morning for my girl while we ate breakfast and practiced spelling words. I danced and sang telling my girl a story from my old days. Who knew when I bought that album some fifteen or more years ago, I'd be playing it in 2009 for my sweet little one.

My alter ego. my friend. here all the while. she reminds me to relax and take a chance. she reminds me to let my hair down and dance and sing to loud music and strum my air guitar proud.

Reporting Live from the Motherland....

 

Oh its been one of those weeks. A hard week. My emotions all tangled, my mood hanging low like the ears of a basset hound and my patience, not at its all time best. I rarely write about these hard moments in the motherland and for that matter in the land of marriage because ..hmmm well, I'm working on figuring out "the because.” What I figure is that I must be embarrassed on some level. I also believe some matters are sacred to be kept private inside the motherland. Boundaries I should respect perhaps. The embarrassment piece though seems a little silly to me, yet it’s a hard one to let go. I know intellectually that feeling embarrassed over the natural development of my dear six-year old or my own cranky mood is nonsense and that I am certainly not alone in my experiences but that doesn’t make it less real.

 

I have talked to a few friends in the motherland about what's happening in their six-year-old world and we come up with the same stories of rising emotions and the emergence of behaviors that are reminiscent of well three and one-half. Tears over what seems like a little thing to us mothers but isn't to our girls. We come to the conclusion that our girls are growing, changing, trying on behaviors like a new pair of pants. They are exhausted after a busy, long day in first-grade. Teachers have even prepared parents for a bounty of emotions in these first few weeks of school.

 

My girl is delighted with her new school, being a first-grader, meeting new friends, playing hard and learning. This makes me feel hugely grateful. As far as emotions and changing behaviors in these first few weeks, mostly what we have experienced is a small meltdown just before dinner. She's tired after playing with friends or is frustrated about having to stop playing and of course she is hungry. We usually manage well by adding some food and water and a hug or two. And she rebounds.

 

This week her tired manifested in the form of whine-redux. Let me say whining if prolonged can test my patience significantly. For this reason, when whining starts, we work to nip it in the bud. Immediately.

 

I start out patient, kind and firm on the age-old no-whining policy in our home that let's be honest has been broken one-thousand times over by any one of us. I say calmly "I would love to listen to you when you use your big voice." I suggest kindly she take a moment or ten to herself until she is ready to ask me for what she wants without sounding like a bike chain in desperate need of oil. Oh I don't know if that makes sense but I'm guessing you know what a whine sounds like. Often my practice of calm works and I remain a peaceful parent. I like these times.

 

Other times when I'm not at my most patient or nourished well the calm can flee resulting in me channeling my not so peaceful self.  And that sucks. I was yelled at as a kid by one of my dear parents. And I do mean dear. I hated it. I swore up and down I would never yell at any child of mine. Well, I have. And again. It sucks. I rarely yell. When I do, I step back and apologize. I beat myself up and judge myself to no end . Productive isn't it? Perhaps, another glimpse into why I don't often write about these harder moments.

 

This week in the sea of whines and valley of more meltdowns than we've had in recent months and the pushing buttons in experimentation of what will mom do if I don’t stop doing what she asked me to stop doing….resulted in my raising my voice ok yelling softly one morning this week.  I was worn down, tired emotionally and frankly feeling compressed. The only way I can explain compression is that my emotions felt pent-up and confined. I was doing everything I could to keep myself together in order to try and parent well. I was feeling cranky and irritated.

 

One reason, the Papa in the house made a comment or two that I didn't like. The tone, the premise, the timing. All wrong. I mean after I have prepared a beautiful meal, cleaned, given him a day to himself to work on some house projects, and a night out with friends; do you think I want to hear as he walks through the door his complaining about my not returning the garbage can or recycling bag to their proper home under the sink. I think what you meant to say dear husband is "dinner smells great and thank you for giving me the night and day today to do what I want." Unfortunately, I wasn't so clever and instead reacted and got mad.

 

The mad turned to irritation and impatience and preoccupation with his poor choice of words in the moment. I cycled and spun out of inner control and outer too. I realize too the other cycle I’m in is that I most assuredly am pms-ing. I can say that not my husband. He may not blame my mood and irritation and all out bad mood this week on my impending period. Only I have permission to do that because damn-it my feelings are real.

 

In effort to counter this travel into blue this week, I ran hard, took pictures, wrote, worked on my business cards and lest I not forget showered. Yes showered. In the spirit of putting my cards on the table, know that I'm not adverse to skipping a day in or two in the shower or to wearing what same T-shirt I wore to bed the next day. I do change my under layer. That I am fastidious about.The run helped so did the shower some and changing my clothes.

 

Still by late Thursday afternoon in the presence of soccer-mom friends, one small tear dribbled out of the corner of my eye. Thank goodness for sunglasses. I was burnt from a long week knowing that I must suck as a Mom surely. How could I raise my voice in response to her umpteenth whine of the afternoon? Um because I am human and I have my moments. One new mama friend reached her hand over mine and that’s all it took to know I was not alone. We all have hard moments. Another old dear friend hugged me and said "oh grrrl--in our way" that makes the other laugh. Another mom reassuringly said "oh you are the fifth nor sixth mom to talk about this same emotional windstorm this week in the world of first-graders." She reminded me in her own words that our girls are in the thick of developmental change. I listened and sat quiet for fear the lump in my throat would open the floodgate of tears I’d already had once this week in the privacy of my own run. And then somehow I found laughter with these good women. And with that perspective.

 

Our day ended beautifully actually. Being in the company of these good women and our kids helped me climb out of my own head and like a said gain a little perspective. For my girl, running and laughing and kicking the ball with her friends helped her get untangled. She climbed into my lap at dinner and hugged me hard. I squeezed her tight. All felt right. Moments come and go. They just do. I want to remember to let them be. I don’t need to apply layers of self-analysis and judgment but rather just sit with the hard stuff because it too shall pass.

 

These are big times for my girl and for me as her mama watching her grow, letting go a little as she learns her way. These are big days as I try and figure out my path. How scary this can feel trusting in a new direction of which I’m not completely sure.

 

My lesson as always: breathe. A dear friend reminded me how when it feels hard, we women try to fix it. Just let yourself feel it right now she said and let it be. Trust what you know and walk towards it. Hard as that is sometimes.

 

There, I share a little more live from the Motherland. Thanks for tuning in.

scenes from a fall morning...

I ran hard this morning. Uphill. Professing my blue mood with each breath, working to burn it through

Breathing in the  cool of this Fall Morning and noticing my surrounds.

Grateful for my friend, deep and true. Sharing as we do on the same plane. Reminding each other in these harder moments. Be still. Breathe out in quiet.

celebrating......

Today, celebrating eight years of marriage.

Eight years since I do, we will, we said.

Mountains in the distance, friends and family in the round. Our stories in between.

 

 

 

Happy Anniversary

six days on the road......

Well not six days actually. We've been away from home about a week so far with an actual three days on the road and the rest of the time we've been hunkered down visiting with my parents in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The Papa took a class this last week down in Carbondale, Colorado at Solar Energy International. This has been a goal of his for years and finally he was able to attend a class specific for science teachers this past week on renewable energy. Being the multi-taskers that we are, we were able to tie in his course with a road trip to see my family.

I brought my laptop and camera and camera cable with grand plans of hooking into my dad's internet connection downloading photos and keeping up with my posts chock full of photos. Well, my old computer cannot access the network and I've no wireless connection. So while I have a plethora of photos taken from the car zooming at 70-plus miles per hour I'm not yet able to post any here. Yet. I think I'll preserve stories from the road for now until I can post a few photos. I am including one photo of my girl on her bike peddling around my parent's driveway before an afternoon storm came in. She moved up a size on her two-wheeler and is feeling mighty proud.

 

Since we've been at my parents, we have taken some good walks and hit the park. We've helped my parents with a few minor chores around the house that needed attention. Big rains here today which for now has postponed a trip to the pool and biking along the big path near town. But that's just fine. We have games and a piano. And my girl has discovered it. She plays away to her own tune singing songs she's writing in the moment or on the side.  I love seeing the thrill on her face when she is making music. Doesn't matter what it sounds like she's pure joy in the moment and she is bringing such joy right to the heart of her Bapa.

We're both having such fun sitting and making music. I am rediscovering my old piano skills and though I have long way to go to get my keyboard fingers back in shape, I love playing again.  As a kid, I took lessons for years right up through high school. Never practiced enough; in fact, I'd cram a week's worth of practicing in the hour after I got home from school and before I had to leave for piano class. I'd shrink as I walked into my lesson hoping my teacher wouldn't notice that I'd not practiced enough but she always did. And she let me know it, which sucked. I cried more than once in shame for not practicing enough. I never let it sink in that when I did practice, I played well and had fun. I played mostly classical and a little jazz and blues. What I loved most was playing boogie style blues and improvising with the notes I knew. I loved making my own sound.  Then and now.

My dad just dug out a book that's perfect for beginners which I consider myself now. I'm studying, relearning notes and finding my way to reach for a chord or two. I have dreams of being able to sit down with friends and jamming.

I'm glad to spend this time with my parents. With my Dad in particular who is nearing eight-five. He is healthy(knocking right now on every piece of wood around here), but his mind is changing. He is hard of hearing in one ear and deaf in the other but thankfully has a decent hearing aid which helps him hear somewhat with one ear. Talk softly into his ear and he can hear you.

My dad always a quiet gentle man is more quiet now. I like to be with him, helping him organize his office, walking, talking some and just being together. He knows his memory is not the same. He knows he needs to practice reading aloud to get words in his mouth. He knows he needs to be practicing the piano and reading complex articles. He know he needs to exercise his mind like with the diligence he exercises the rest of his muscle. He knows his mind is not the same because he tells me so.

When I am not here, we write each other daily telling of our day. I started doing this with my Dad last year when I noticed more change in his writing.  He is open always about how much he loves us his children and grandchildren and of course my mom. Never an hour goes by without him telling us how special we are to him.  My Dad is a brilliant man, a retired professor who taught post-graduate studies in foreign policy. He changed careers in his forties, got his Masters then PhD with at least six of the seven kids in our family at home all while working full-time. And though I was very young, I remember he was there to say goodnight. Yep, I feel grateful for my dad.

I know my Dad's mind is not the same but I also know he is here right now. I know we don't talk in as much detail as we once did but we talk and our connection has not changed. He is well. Aware. Loving. Present. To be here now with him is a gift.

meandering on a sunday

What you might know about me is that much of the time I like days that unfold without a roadmap or timepiece attached. Unplanned is often my preference. And yet, I plan. I definitely do and much of the time this is how I accomplish a gaggle of to dos on any given day. But my preference is to meander loosely while I accomplish.

Today was a lazy Sunday and whoa mama can lazy do a body good sometimes. I had plans of running an errand or two, weeding, starting to pack for our upcoming road trip but instead opted for much needed laziness and just hung out. After all, when I mentioned running errands to my girl, she the one who loves to write wrote me a note saying "I don't want to go to erins. She did not mean her friend Erin but rather errands of the other kind. I was easily swayed into believing I can run errands tomorrow.

Sometimes after a busy time like this week past, it sure feels good to do a whole lot of nothing. This morning after writing the note about not wanting to go to "erins", my girl asked if we could just stay home all day. Why not....after all, I needed a day hunkering down too.

And since this morning, she's been happily hanging out in her room listening to books on tape and making art. Just now she called me in to show me a few surprises. Tickled with herself for hiding art treasures around her room like face paints, water colors, beads and notes, she couldn't wait to show her mama. As she meanders and flies free through fields of art for while wearing only pajama pants sans shirt by this time of day does this mama heart good. She's beaming positively about having a day to herself too.

Today was the kind of day I would have stayed in my pajamas all day but alas I soaked my "Hello Kitty" pajama bottoms right along with my garden beds. My old t-shirt/pajama shirt stayed dry so thank the goddess of lazy Sundays II'm still wearing that.

Aside from a far from taxing chore or two, I have been tucked away right next door downloading photos, writing, surfing the internet to learn more about twitter and other web media and yes a little cleaning, folding laundry and food making. While not tending to my creative side as much as my girl today, accomplishing in small doses a few essential tasks feels good.

I did venture out to the yard a couple of other times other than the morning watering I already mentioned and then to weed a couple of beds in dire need of some attention and love. I've nearly finished my front bed  redesigns at least phase one and while for much of it I've not had a plan I'm sort of happy with the outcome. I will be happy to see my plants grow bigger, more full and take up more dirt space but I rather enjoy the  experimentation you know gardening stream of consciousness style.

I research enough to know what plants like full sun or part shade and I ask a gardening maven friend of mine for ideas and from there I let my imagination run wild within a budget of course. Putting my hands in dirt as I've written about more than once is healing, energizing and entirely satisfying to me. Seeing seedlings grow into beautiful blooms is still remarkable to me. Vegetable starts that grow into tasty eats is nourishing on a whole other level.

The more gardening I do, the more I learn and the more I'm inspired to do more. My garden is eclectic, abstract perhaps. I plant to take a risk sometimes and see what will grow. A good exercise for daily living I suppose.

And gardening, putting my hands in soil, staying quiet is my meditation. And good exercise for being in the here and now. Today was just that a day in the present, the now, the moment just being not forcing anything.

Thanks to my girl for inspiring us to just be on this Sunday.

what I'm loving....

With the end of the school year comes a wave of super busy days. School auctions, school tours,  kindergarten graduation and end-of-year party, me deciding to re-build and landscape a couple of garden beds in my yard, some very part-time work, playdates and fun in the sun. All good though I've not made much time for writing these days.
Still I know its important to stop and notice what I love.

pure free-flying imagination of two sweet girls at play in the garden

walking by our roses in bloom. the color and scent send me...

poppies..the texture, color, depth ...

and a two truck loads of 5-way planting mix for my garden project and our second raised vegetable bed. Lots of shoveling for this Mama this past weekend and it all felt so good. Once I've planted and designed my reconfigured beds I'll share the photos.

And finally for today, I'm loving...
More hot beautiful days here and we are fortunate to be able to go take a swim with some friends. Time to get off the computer.

ahh mercury's in retrograde, that explains it....

So yesterday I spoke with my dear friend who lives in Maui. Yes Maui. She moved there with her beautiful family three years ago. We catch up usually in a few short sentences before one of us has to get off the phone.  So when we phone the other during an hour when there is plenty of time to talk, I feel particularly happy. She makes me laugh. And always, I leave the phone in a better mood then before. Anyway, yesterday she was telling me how she'd been in a general funk for a week or so and oh could I commiserate. She then said well mercury is after all in retrograde. Now, one thing you should know is I don't know much about astrology. I do read the horoscope now and again for myself, my girl, the Papa and I love learning more about our respective signs which are Pisces:me. Cancer: the Papa and my girl: Gemini. I think I love learning about astrology in bits and pieces because I'm a sucker for an explanation of why things and my mood and general state of being might be slightly askew and oh yeah and the one of my newly turned six little girl.

Tonight, I googled "Mercury in Retrograde" and decided to click on a few of the links. Here's a blurb from this site:

"A planet is described as retrograde when it appears to be moving backwards through the zodiac. ...Planets are never actually retrograde or stationary, they just seem that way due to this cosmic shadow-play.

Retrograde periods, although often problematic for us earthlings, are not particularly uncommon. Each planet retrogrades, except the Sun and Moon. Although a powerful astrological influence, Mercury is quite a small planet that travels at a relatively fast speed through the zodiac......This time, Mercury turns retrograde in Gemini (variety; sociability), while the Sun is in Taurus (security; material pleasures), but retrogrades into Taurus while the Sun is in Taurus. The Sun moves into Gemini while Merc is still in Taurus, but Mercury soon thereafter heads back to join the Sun in Gemini!"

Ok honestly, some of the last line confuses the bees out of me but see the part there about Mercury turning retrograde in Gemini...aha! Now, I have something to hold on to, something to sink my teeth into...mercury is in retrograde, guided by Gemini. My girl turned 6 three days ago and she's a Gemini. I love this girl. Her spirit, spunk, laughter, everything about her but let me be an honest mama here and say this has been a heck of a week in moodville for my dear sweet girl. We're always transitioning in some way perhaps, and in the past month retrograding I suppose.

The emotions and moods in the last week well they are much akin to hills and turns of one of those huge them park roller coasters...well maybe I'm being a bit dramatic but she's been emotional. Yesterday, I ate the last bite of her morning toast because I swear she said she'd had enough...next thing I hear "Mama, may I please have one more bite of toast?" ahem..."I ate it", said the bad ole mama..And you might ask well why didn't you just make another piece...because we were finishing our breakfast on the way to school! Strike two, I know.

So my girl, she fell apart over for the matters of this post a piece of toast. She cried real tears. And me in all my mama in a rush to get her to school glory told her to pull herself together. I cringe. But I'm being real here. She slowly came back to herself and we had a little fun at school before I said my goodbyes. I spent the next 5 hours before picking her up thinking I was "THE WORST MOTHER IN THE LAND"--yeah that would be me. How on earth could I come down on her for crying over toast? Where was my compassion? I remembered the impatience of my own mama many moons ago, her yelling or telling me to straigten up or whatever the phrase was and I hated ever last second of it and vowed never to do that to my own child. As amazing as my mother is in so many ways, she was not a coddler, hardly a cuddler and for the love of pete she wouldn't have had compassion over toast. I remember though longing for that as a girl. I wanted my mama to show me she cared. Of course deep down I knew she did, but sometimes just a little more sweetness please.

Truth is, I'm a patient mama alot of the time. I'm a compassionate mama alot of the time and a downright kind mama much of the time. I have my moments and for pete's sake it was just toast. And the week before this one or last month, she would not have fallen apart over toast. I know it. She is challenging me in new ways just in this week, experimenting I can see with the "what will she do if I push just a little". I did the same and I know this is healthy experimenting in her finding her bigger self.  Tonight though in yet another emotional meltdown this one over her making some not so great choices, we had one fine talk. I kept my cool and remembered my mama compassion as I checked in with her and asked her if she felt a little caught between her five year old self and her six year old self and she said "yeah" and "Mama, my body is my business so I don't always want to do what you tell me" Yes, I get it, I understand," I said and in my mind I thought welcome to life my girl. My girl well she likes her independence in ways of dressing herself. I say go for it. Drawing, making art for hours at a time. She likes her mama time too, snuggling but I can see the transition happening for her...from little girl to bigger one. Yes, six is still wee in the scheme of girlhood and I intend to help her keep things that way. Innocent. Where fairyland is still fun to visit and playing "sisters" and dress-up and "Plaza Hotel" with her pals is all the rage...There is the transition as she is about to round up her kindergarten year, turning another year older, finding her place with her self, her body, her personality. All in the month of retrograde...now that's alot to take own! Well now that I understand more.....

And speaking of retrograding, I too have been all aflutter. In a mood. Not quite myself. Tapped. Drained. Why? Sure there are many reasons. I cannot in the name of protecting the innocent write them here.  Point is, I find myself out of sorts, out of myself. One reason perhaps is I am too having to let go of the little girl, babyhood days. Six years flies. My girl will always be my baby but six feels bigger to me all of a sudden. The strong jolt of optimism I have been feeling is still there hovering. I do what I need to do to try and move out of the sludge. I write. I vent. I dig my hands in the earth, work in my garden because that's always healing. I let myself retrograde but all the while I know I must try try try and remember to be good to myself. Have compassion in these more challenging moments for thine own self mama.

And Mercury, go ahead retrograde as you naturally do. Thanks Mercury and Gemini your guide for the opportunity to take a look at things in a different light.

and what is it I am trying to say....

Really, I should be outside taking pictures of the plants beginning to bloom and grow in my yard. New green bursting, emerging signs of Spring to be sure. A photo of a new bloom would probably coincide well with this post. But alas, I am inside at my computer working on a website and thinking. Alot. Thinking peppered with some feeling of course.

I'm  a big feeler. I am. In the physical sense I love texture. Design. Touch. In the emotional sense, I feel my way through most everything. I go by gut. Intuition. When I do listen to her-my intuition, I am home at center with myself. 

I just took a break from the work at hand to read the latest post of my good friend over here. She wrote a beautiful piece on fear and shared her equally beautiful photographs. Inspiring all of it. Timing is everything as I myself have been doing a lot of thinking and yes feeling on the subject of fear. Or perhaps on the subject of moving through fear or that which can hold us back or who am I kidding, hold me back.

Of late. I am feeling even more grateful than before for being laid off. I feel a sense of calm and peace inside. More comfortable than I have been in a long time with myself. I know for me its because I am more centered around my home and my girl and I love that. I wanted this and its here. Now. I know too that I have dreamed for a long time of making a go of working for myself, freelancing, building something of a business of sorts. I know that I wanted time disconnected from a traditional job. I remind my inner self often of what this feels like to be doing what I want to be doing.

This peace and comfort though does not translate to easy and it does not translate to consistent. There are moments when I wonder what am I doing? There are moments when I am scared about money and finances. About work for my girl's Papa. Thoughts is all they are but boy do they come rushing in....one on top of the other...What if we had to move? What would we do with our home. Rent? Sell? Should I find another job?  Do I even have a back-up plan? And then.

I breathe. My practice. I stop. What I know is... right now. I have no flippen clue what is next on any number of subjects. So I try to focus on what I know about what is. What I know is I am dedicated to raising my girl the best way I can. What I know is I want to be around, available for her as much as possible. What I know is I am creative, bright, interested. What I know and believe are these times call for thinking way outside of the box. Work and what it means has changed. More of this for another streaming live from my consciousness post. What I know is stagnation gets me nowhere.

I look back pre-layoff and can see myself living in stagnation. The murky murk of swampland. Limit this to my work life I write but I realize when I feel stagnant, the stuckness permeates through the whole of me, creeping into most aspects of what makes me..me.  I talked a lot about my dream of leaving of being home of taking the time to try to vision my dreams more clear. But I didn't make a move.

And then it happened. Not by my doing other than my tossing my dream to the universe, rather someone else gave me the swift kick in the butt I needed. I look back and realize I could have taken the step myself but was too fearful. I threw up reasons, excuses many quite rational about why I could never leave my job. And so I didn't. Until I did. 

And now that I have left my job, I am feeling a new self slowly. The first month of my transition was not easy. I was happy to not be working but scared. Scared of not having a job I suppose. Ironic I know since I'd not wanted one. Scared about what the heck we were going to do without two salaries. Scared of the rules and rituals of unemployment. As my friend says there is a big difference in being scared and being fearful. I think this time of transition was marked by both. I was scared of not knowing what I was doing as my new self. So I got busy quickly. Cleaning, working in the yard, cooking more. Budgeting. Walking. And most importantly being home for my girl and available to her growing and blooming in the ways I had wanted. I spent some good hours alone. A gift in feeling and getting to know a new sense of myself. 

I had to get my feet wet in this new space of being. Feel the new waters before me and sit there on the shore, feet dangling in. I felt alone sometimes. Depressed. Tired. And i would tell a friend in order to let it out. And i would keep moving. And talking about feeling well and being grateful and happy for what had happened because i was that too.

There's optimism. I think a tool so useful for working through fear. I heard someone say last week on some TV special that his optimism may just be another form of denial but that it worked. I laughed to myself because I'd really just been thinking the same. I wonder sometimes am I in denial. I mean I don't have a plan from point a to point b about what I'm doing. The economic downturn keeps on turning. And so it goes. I do though feel trust in what I have and what I feel inside and that is what fuels me. I so much rather look up and see what is then look down and miss that(although the ground can be lovely). I say again to myself we have no idea what will be.Why stop for an unknown. I have lived sometimes waiting for the other shoe to drop. All is well I think but wait something could go amiss. Sure it could. It does. But why stop. Self pep talk # 432.

I do have fears. Mostly about the unknown that I just gave myself the pep talk about. And the fears lurk around a few specific areas of my life. I would love to be able to write about them in order to put them out there. In time.

Working through fears, i must focus on the knowledge at hand. What I know of my capabilities, passions, goals, creativity. I know I get nowhere unless I step forward. Take risk. I am trying hard right now to put myself out there more. Say "yes" to opportunities that meet me in my path. "Yes" to writing more and a small website job. And "Yes" to moving ahead with a dream.

And say "No" to that inner voice that says "but you're not good enough, how on earth could you make enough money doing what you want to do?"  This is fear talking hopefully less and less loudly as I continue to walk forward. I have operated for a long time with high expectations for myself and at times these lofty intangibles do nothing more than stop me in my tracks. If i can't be amazing then why do it?"

I say back "You do it because you want to. You do it because you want to be heard. You do it because you have much to contribute You do it because it doesn't matter right now the outcome."

This is life. Here. Right Now. I have my inner vision. My dreams. My plan cut in loose form. Very loose. But this is it. I know what is and am getting to know it better. Keep walking in the direction I feel I remind myself. I walk guided by my own inner voice.

I am taking risks by starting to write more about some of this, however vague this is. This=fears for now. I listen to my mantra. Keeping walking in the direction you know. I've got my boots on. Sturdy. Reliable. My pack of tools on my back. Optimism. Knowlege. Open-heart. Inner-knowing. My legs, heart, mind and body strong.

I look up and with my hands toss one more fear to the sky.

zen and the art of weeding....

I've been thinking about gardening and weeding and how pulling weeds is a beautiful metaphor for daily life. Hmmm.. "Zen and the Art of Weeding"

We do not have a large yard. There is some lawn in the front that I dream of covering with cardboard, then with dirt and eventually replace with plants..Oh and yes, I'd save a few areas of green for the hula hooping and jump roping and play performances that we so love when my girl and her pals from our block play. But truth be told, that grass-be-gone vision is still in the making.

For now, I have a fairly small yard of grass to pushmow. Dandelions grow freely among their sistren of grass and buttercups. These hearty old weeds get their weekly haircut from me or or my girl and her pals who love to pick sunny bouquets from their lot. There are hardly defined beds that line my walk. More beds in the front and along side our place and oh yes around back. My girl has her very own garden she plants herself. Last summer, her bed in full bloom easily became one of my favorite parts of our yard. The owner previous to us, was a very talented gardener and therefore paved the way for some loveliness abound. Admittedly, the garden has a ways to go to get back to all of its splendor of days gone by.

But working the garden is a big part of the fun. I am a bit of an experiential and experimental gardener. I read some, ask friends with far more gardening prowess for advice, and from there experiment and experience my learning and growing in the moment. Last year, we bought quite a few new plants. This year. Not gonna happen and that's just fine. I have bamboo to trade with a sweet neighbor. Raspberries and hostas so far with more perennials to come. And with his plants comes a lot of knowledge that he's happy to share. Who knew getting rid of more bamboo could be this much fun!

Every summer it seems, I develop new goals for the garden. More plants. Less dirt showing in between, is the running theme. This year I've dreamed about ways to define my beds. Make their lines more clean and clear. Create a scene I suppose. All that requires is my edging shovel tool thing to dig down and trench a little space between the bed and grass. No pavers for me or rocks that I originally thought would create my beds edge. And oh yes, more ground cover to cover up the expanse of dirt I still have in places. Ground cover adds new detail and color and still makes room for plants to grow..and weeds.

Ah yes the weeds a super-recurring theme in my garden. No "Round-Up" here. Kids are playing remember. So Weeds they grow. They just do. New ones have arrived this year with new dirt we put in our beds last year. According to my own "Zen and the Art of Weeding" manual..weeds just are. So why not be one with them and free them from my soil. And you know, I like to weed. Once I put on my ole Carhardts that I have owned and loved for over 10 years and my rubber boots, my sun hat and gardening gloves, I'm ready to dig and shovel the buttercup and dandelions and whatever other weeds I cannot yet name. I snap the horsetail that has come to town move right along.

I treated myself to a new favorite weeding tool since mine went missing a year or two ago. What you call it I do not know though I'm fairly sure its called a weeder. Simple and fitting. It is about 6-7 inches long or less and has a small prong on the end. The thing works magic with dandelions. I just rock it on down to the root and magically pull her up root and all!  And then feeling oh so satisfied, I dig on down to yet another dandelion root and pull her up. I finish one bed for now. Weeds hide themselves perhaps or have not yet come up to surface. They will.

I like my hands in dirt. Quiet digging. Time on the inside. Thoughts meandering through internal topics. Perhaps a little weeding on the inside too. Grounding to be sure.

I work on one bed, weeds pulled. Ready for planting. Walk down the path and look to my right. Ahh the buttercups have made their way into that bed too? Not surprised really. They stretch their stubborn roots under the sidewalk and pop up for air in new territory, another bed. I reach for my shovel and dig some more. Buttercups require shovels. They are strong, resistant and determined, not made small garden tools at least the way I see it. And among the weeding, I work to preserve the plants I do want around. Lodging weeds from in between what I want to keep. 

And I think yep this sure feels like life to me. Tending gardens. Weeding beds. Growing and experimenting. Watching what grows and what becomes slightly overgrown. Tending once again to that or who or what is in need.  Standing back, arms folded. Smiling under the sun or the rain and imagining what can blossom and what already is.

Digging in the earth. Gratifying. Soul comforting. Grounding. My meditation. My place to work out problems without saying a word. My place to practice a kinder, gentler me. My place to grow.