Love

Happy Valentine's Day.  Perhaps this day should occasion some profound remarks about love.  I dunno.  I haven't seemed to figure out much about love yet, except this:  I know it when I feel it.

In the last week I've felt it big and small, and I'm grateful for that.  My dear husband turned off the NBA yesterday and took a two hour wander through the woods at the river with me.  This entailed falling into pretty darn cold water while trying to keep me from falling in (of course I just ended up pulling him in with me), getting scratched up from stray tree branches and thorns, and stifling a laugh as I butt-scooted like the chicken I am across a log that was higher than I thought prudent.  The reward was a little time away from the rest of the world, in the warm February sunshine on a 50 degree day, with sunlight streaking through the trees and lighting up both our faces.  Having someone to share this wonder with was love, exactly.

I also felt love caring for a sick child, while sick myself, over a very long week which got progressively crabbier.  For my kid to know that I love her in all her sweaty, unwashed, sick neediness, as well as her bored to death and sick of dull old me grumpiness, is unconditional love, the only kind worth a damn.  It's the kind of love she's given me since the day she was born.

And to come home from work today, to a beautifully laid out table full of........cheese.  Now that is love.  Somehow I have raised a sweet child who's noticed I really really like cheese and crackers and apples for a snack, and spent some of her hard-earned ipod money on my favorite.  Sweet.

I hope the three of them felt plenty of my love this day too.  I'm not entirely sure, because it's been awfully squabbly around here tonight.  I told you I haven't figured love out yet.

Trust

I don't usually talk about birth here, but today I want to.  I'm always pretty surrounded by birthing women, but this moment feels especially wonderful, as I am waiting on a homebirth mama who I will help as a doula, lots of birth class mamas who are due soon, and two amazing far-away friends who will birth in the coming weeks as well.

I want to share a snippet of a discussion with one of those dear friends - she had called me to wish a happy birthday, and I barricaded myself in the tub so we could have a nice long talk.  This is her second baby; I was her doula with her first, which ended quite suddenly in cesarean.  Now she is awaiting a much different experience.  Tomorrow she will journey with her family to her birth place, her home away from home, at her midwife's farm, where she will spend a few or many days, waiting patiently on her baby.  She will eat delicious food, "vacation" a bit with her husband and little girl, while away cozy hours in her cabin, just resting and waiting.  Doesn't that sound lovely?  A quiet break from busy life in preparation for her birth journey. 

This quiet, private, calm atmosphere and philosophy about birth will be very different, of course.  But that's not the biggest change from last time.

We talked this morning of the place of trust within birth, how she feels about her midwife and the way she simply does not need to question her judgment or care.  It's not that she's stopped thinking or taking responsibility for her birth or care, it's that there is no battle of views, no "safety" vs comfort, no wondering if her midwife is doing what's in her own best interest or what's in her client's.  "Allowed" is not part of the vocabulary.  Instead, she used the word "trust" over and over again.  How rested and excited she feels about her birth, knowing whatever happens will be the very best outcome for both she and her baby.  She won't wonder what if or have to come prepared to battle for what she may need to birth well.  She trusts completely that her midwife will know if all is well, or not.  She trusts that her midwife will feel calm in watching her labor in whatever way she needs, without judgments or arbitrary rules.

I thought later how her outcome is really already assured.  She will have a good birth because it will come in this sacred place of trust, how exactly doesn't matter quite so much.  She has already accepted the role of luck in birthing, and that neither she nor her midwife controls the outcome. 

I am reminded of a birth I attended about a year ago, a VBAC mama too.  Her 2nd birth was so very different from her first - in the details, but also in the quiet calm trusting manner in which she labored.  Her birth ended with a cesarean, and I would never say something like major surgery to birth a child just doesn't matter, but because of the trust she had, in her midwife, her body, her partner, her intuition that the right thing was happening, it was such a lovely birth.  Her recovery was fast, she felt emotionally whole.

Trust, deep trust, leads to emotional wholeness for birthing women.  What would it mean, in every birth setting, if women could feel that?  Familiarity and comfort and lack of defensive medicine certainly set homebirth apart and lead to a very high rate of satisfaction among homebirthing women, but I think it's trust with a capital T that leads to the safe, whole and happy outcomes there.

I hope my friend gets just the birth she is hoping for, and I know I'm not wishing for much, because really, she has already guaranteed that she will.  I trust that.

Today's Work

Dear God,
For H ~ please bring her baby in good time, bring healing to her body and spirit and see her safely through her child's birth.  Let her know she is whole and perfect in every way.

For C ~ please release her laugh.  Let her feel the joy in her heart.

For S~ comfort her pain and her exhaustion, heal her body so her hands might do your work.  Let her feel the love that surrounds her.

For K~ give her answers that will help her move forward in her life.  Soothe her pain, reveal the meaning behind her suffering.

For H~ bring her baby safely into her arms, help her carry her heavy burden lightly until her child's birth, may her birth be healthy and wondrous.

And for me ~ help me understand suffering.  Help me comfort my sisters.

Thank you God.

Words from Hafiz

 

The Sun Never Says

Even

After

All this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You owe Me."

Look

What happens

With a love like that,

It lights up the 

Whole 

Sky.

That Shapes the Eye

Children

Can easily open the 

Drawer 

That lets the spirit rise up and wear

Its favorite costume of

Mirth and laughter

When the mind is consumed with 

Remembrance of 

Him

Something divine happens to the 

Heart

That 

Shapes the hand and tongue

And eye into

The word

Love. 

Poems by Hafiz, 

translations by Daniel Ladinsky 

Hafiz is the great Sufi master of the 14th century, born in Persia, a student of Rumi.  One once noted that "the words of Hafiz have won every heart that listens."  I believe he has only one subject, shining through every poem, we are God, God is love, life is a dance.  Hafiz never fails to inspire. 

 

A peek at our day

A little peek at our Wednesday afternoon.  We worked hard at math, history and writing in the morning, then played away the rest of the day.  Being able to be outside on a glorious sunshiny day and follow my daughter's animal loving heart are just two of the many blessings of learning at home, on our own schedule.

At least one thing you love and enjoy

Beginning the task of filing my taxes on Sunday, I found an old photocopied info sheet from my nurse practitioner, in box of business receipts.  The title:  Self-care for PMS.  Why did I file it with tax stuff?  How the heck would I know - God has a funny sense of humor apparently.

I was already feeling quite stressed and eating chocolate and taking deep breaths and then had to take a big break because finding the PMS help sheet made me laugh, and laughing makes me cough.  So I sat down and read through it.  Lots of good advice really.  Take evening primrose oil, drink plenty of water, exercise outdoors.

But the last on the list, #10, got my attention:  "Do at least on thing you LOVE and ENJOY for YOURSELF (that's underlined) daily.  Ok then.  Sounds good - eating chocolate, doing yoga, taking a nap.  Check.

But that emphasis on for YOURSELF has stuck with me for a couple days.  What could possibly be wrong with a little treat for oneself?  Nothing, but still it nagged at me.  I don't think of myself as the martyr type at all.  When I have a need I try to acknowledge and meet it. 

Then yesterday, somewhere in the middle of a dizzyingly busy day, it hit me.  One can't simply do something for oneself.  It just doesn't work like that.  Anything I do to increase the amount of love shown for myself, to increase my joy and happiness, has an effect on others, like ripples on the pond.  Our family motto is "Keep Mom Happy" - and no one is joking.  Because when mom's happy, everyone in the family is happy.  Thich Nhat Hanh uses many metaphors to illustrate - one's love is like the light of a candle shining out into the darkness and illuminating for all, is my favorite.  Nothing we do is in isolation of one another.  When we show care, love, gentleness to ourselves, it flows outward into our families, our communities, the whole world.

So do at least one thing you LOVE and ENJOY for YOURSELF (and don't forget to underline that last part) daily - do it not only yourself, but for all of Creation.  Oh, and don't do it only as a remedy for PMS (it does work!) but also as a remedy for forgetting your divine nature or unhappiness or feeling alone.  And do it every single day.

A Gentle Reminder

As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. 

- Henry David Thoreau

I guess I'm not quite done with this idea yet, this idea of needing repetition and reminders to over and over again choose the positive thought and path.  I thought again of HDT's words today as I hung up a couple reminders in the bathroom (that fabulous space of metaphysical pondering).  I have my Red Tent bead (thank you Jane!), an oval of smooth jaspar on a red cord and I hung it on the wall, from the pin holding up a small bone (I have a lot of weird found objects in my home).  And on the other pin, I hung a spiral shell on a blue thread.  Both are reminders of the women who support me, accept my love, teach me - my book club sisters, and my birth community sisters.

 

As I began to tackle my taxes this afternoon, I could feel that familiar pounding in my heart, money anxiety, number anxiety, deadline anxiety, dread of an unknown future.... and I reached for my stash of chocolate.  I really do believe in the medicinal value of chocolate to lift a mood and help us be happier, but today, I think it was a gentle reminder to be more gentle with myself, show some patience and have faith that it's all going to be ok.  That's easier to swallow with a bit of chocolate, isn't it?

I realize I surround myself with little reminders - be gentle, remember who you are they whisper - sweet bits of the girls' artwork on the walls, a laminated "I AM GRATEFUL" sign from long ago Sunday school, a photo B took of me at the river, back to the camera, squatting by the water's edge, intently drawing.  It's all around us, all the time, the world we want.....pass the chocolate so I can remember.

Writing to know oneself

"It was only once we started writing that we started to know who we were."  

from the Wednesday Sisters, by Meg Waite Clayton.

In case you haven't read it, the Sisters is about 5 young mothers who begin meeting as a playgroup, but become a writer's group of sorts, and along the way the kind of life-long friends that no woman should live without.  For them writing is rife with conflict - they are not even sure who they are or are supposed to be, what they want from life, what they think about the enormous changes whirling all around them in late 1960s Palo Alto, California.  I'm reading it for my book club, always grateful for the challenging ways those amazing ladies stretch me.

I can relate to the Sisters' confusion!  I feel blessed my many sweet, generous, bold and funny women holding me up, expecting the best from me, always accepting when I show the worst of me.  I also struggle with just who exactly am I?  And what is my heart telling me that my mind is missing?

I am loving this blog because it's helping me know me better; every time I sit here with the blankness in front of me, I find myself spiraling inward, the only real journey worth taking..

Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.

~~~~~

The only journey is the one within.
— Rainer Maria Rilke

A Pathway

As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

The thoughts in my head tonight?  I'm going to die.  This stinkin' cough is going to actually kill me.  Followed quickly by, well, that would actually be nice because then I'd be put out of my misery.  My belly and ribs are very painfully from uncontrolled hacking.  I realize I should just take the Codeine cough syrup in the cupboard and go to sleep, but I hate the way it makes me feel, and I'm stubborn.  But you don't really want to hear about my cough......you can probably actually HEAR my cough and that is enough.

 

How powerful it is when we can control our own minds.  Really, our own thoughts are the one and only things in this life we can control with any certainty at all.  A sobering thought considering how difficult this task is for me.

 

What goes through my mind dozens of times every day (if not every hour)?  

I am afraid ____________.   

There is not enough __________.  

What if I lose ____________? (But that's just #1 again.) 

 

I can almost feel the power of those statements as I type them.  It's a spooky, goosebumps kind of feeling, because one of those very few Truths that I know beyond any reasonable doubt is this:  thoughts are powerful, thoughts create reality.  If I go around repeating #s 1-3 all day long, what will my life look like?  It will look exactly how it looks.....that's the whole point.

 

And as if by magic, when I manage to override the default settings -  when I hear my inner voice saying 

It's all ok.

There is enough __________.

It's all God.

the clouds part, the sun comes out (I'm not kidding - my thoughts have made the sun shine), I find my keys, and a 20 in my coat pocket, and some wonderful person calls or shows up to give me love and/or accept my love.

 

My task for tonight - change that default setting of "I'm dying" to "My body is healthy and whole."  That's the kind of thought (and reality) I want to dominate my life.  Thank you HDT. 

A Wolf Moon

The full moon of January is called the Wolf Moon, for Native American peoples believed wolves became restless in January. 

I'm feeling a bit restless myself today.  I notice when the moon is full my sleep is disturbed and I feel like howling.  Just kidding about that last part.  Crabby might be a better adjective for how I feel.  Winter is long where I live, January can be filled with a grayness that begins to seep into my soul.  I forget what sunshine on my skin feels like.  I forget that January has it's purpose too, the cold stillness is a ripe time to reflect, to do nothing, to let one's self settle.  Difficult tasks for me.  I'd rather fast forward to March and start playing with seeds.  January is about the acceptance of longing, the acceptance of the grayness of now.

I wonder what the wolves have to be restless about?  Are they hungry?  Are they feeling amorous?  Do they tire of the long night?  Do they long for green grass and insects to chase?  Perhaps restless is more like adventuresome and motivated - game animals are growing tired and hungry, it's a good time for hunting and filling one's belly.  A wolf can always rest in the lazy days of summer; winter is a time for work?

I'm going to honor my gray mood and take a little better care of myself in the coming days, as the moon begins to wane again.  Chocolate and massage may be necessary, yoga is essential.  February is the Snow Moon ~ I'll need my energy.

Here's a poem for today (as Garrison Keillor would say :)

The Wolf Moon

by Penny Pollock

The weather chills, 

the night is  long,

wolf lifts his head 

in lonely song.

His notes float high,

his notes drift low,

mournful in the 

moonlight glow.

Hearing Voices

I woke up this morning, tired, with yet another cough, dreading having to drive into town for something I forgot yesterday, really just wanting to go back to sleep.  I thought "I hope the kids aren't crabby.  It's going to be such a long day."  Sigh.  And more sigh.

Then I peeked out the window, vaguely remembering that it was snowing when I went to bed and that my husband went to work at 4 am to clear it away.  Aaaaaaah.  Then I heard the voice, "You are paying attention to the wrong things."

If you do not give right attention to the one you love, it is a kind of killing. 

Thich Nhat Hahn

Yes, all that beauty, right there and somehow I was turning my attention away.  The one I love - my reality, this whole world....Wait a minute, what am I missing?

A happy child, off to school and adventure - bravely trying something new (full-time school) and doing her best.  AND amazingly, she's well-organized!  A coughing (again!) child who kindly asked, "Could we read and cuddle a lot today?"  Not every twelve year old wants such things from her mother.  A white world just out the window, patiently awaiting notice - silently whispering "You can breathe now."

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle. 

Thich Nhat Hahn

Where is your attention today?  Are you hearing the voices too?

Someone's special breakfast

In the quest to connect with my kids and create fun memories, I confess to making stuff up.  Like holidays and traditions to which we have no particular cultural or religious allegiance.  For example "Old Befana Day."  You all celebrate that one right?  (For the curious:  it's on Epiphany and we started celebrating after we read the lovely book by Tomie DePaola, The Legend of Old Befana).  And while we're at it we celebrate Epiphany with a Three Kings Cake too (although we are certainly not whatever flavor of Christian is supposed to revere that day).  Half a birthdays (you know, from Winnie the Pooh?) + half a dozen pagan holidays, those are always good.  All the regular American holidays get their share of family traditions too (birthday cake for Jesus, an animal tree in the forest), but there's something extra fun about celebrating the stuff no one else even knows exists.  "Really?  Old Befana doesn't leave presents in your shoes?  Bummer."

I think a big part of why I was attracted to Waldorf as a young homeschooler (besides the fun moms) was all the holidays and festivals and celebrations.  Michelmas!  Yes!  (I'm not even sure what that one is about).  But if it involves special food or presents or art projects, count us in.

Bella with St. Lucia Day buns

Does my lack of reverence harm the sacred nature of these days?  Yes, probably, shame on me.  But it's fun to wake your girls up in the morning and say, "It's the solstice!  Let's stay up late tonight and stare at the stars and make some festive solstice food!"

At one point I designated a notebook to write down all the holidays and traditions, because I kept forgetting some of the lesser ones and then my kids would say, "Hey!  It's St. Nicholas day and he didn't show up!"  Whoops.  "No girls, he comes TONIGHT......."  I already admitted I really do make this stuff up.

Last week I had the brilliant idea that we needed more special days and inaugurated Sunday morning as Someone Special's Special Breakfast (it's hard coming up with good names - you try).  Let's just make every Sunday morning it's own special holiday!!  3 of the 4 of us plan and cook a yummy feast for the 4th person, while theoretically the lucky duck sleeps in.  Maybe I'll succeed; I haven't had my turn yet.  Daddy got the first turn because.....well, because then maybe just maybe he'll pitch in next week, IF we start early enough to not impinge on football.  It was fun, although I ended up doing all the choosing and the cooking.  Oh well, rest assured a little defeat will not squelch my celebratory urges.  Maybe if we can somehow work presents into it?

Will my girls look back at their childhood and wonder how come mama was such a nutjob?  Probably.  Maybe they'll notice the little bits of love tucked into all those shoes and Epiphany cakes and buttermilk waffles.  I hope so.  It's hard work keeping up with that notebook.

The Blue Christmas Ball

Hanging in our bedroom window is a large, frosty blue Christmas ball ornament.  Mike and I got it our very first Christmas together, 19 years ago.  I don't remember if we even had a tree that year, but I think I bought this ball at K-Mart.  It's bigger than a regular ball, and has this frosted coating.

For many Christmases we hung it on the tree and then put it away, and always said something like "oh, it's the blue ball....." very sentimentally.  At some point after we moved into our house I hung it up in the window, to catch the light, like a witch ball, and it stayed up all year.  It was such a happy sight every morning, with the birds in the giant lilac bush outside the window and the sun glinting through the glass.  It's been there ever since.  Probably the only thing in my whole house I've never rearranged (ok, maybe not the fridge either).

The original little gold filligree hanger is gone; it has a gerry-rigged paper clip w/ fishing line strung to it.  The frosty coating is half peeled off; I don't dust it anymore because the coating is too fragile, so it's super dirty.  It's very faded; only on the bottom can you see the original pretty blue.  The rest is washed-out and barely blue at all.

Tonight I stared and stared at it.  Why keep it?  Why not just toss it, it's not much to look at anymore.  It's kind of a miracle it hasn't gotten broken in many jostles over the years - cats, kids, the wind blowing in the window in the summer.  Why is it so hard for me to decide if it's worth saving at all?  Why is it so hard for me to let go?

Resolutions check in

Anyone given up on their resolutions yet?  I'm doing ok.  I'd give myself a solid B+.

Here's what I've stuck with so far - I've managed to cut back on sugar, not completely, but a bit.  I've kept my gentle calm pretty well too, and a couple weeks is a long time for me to go without some kind of tantrum.  My wall reminders have helped with that, as well as that idea about the humandural.  Also, I think I've just been too distracted by a new job and a new class and trying to make everything work to have the extra energy for quite as much anger.  I've kept up with blogging most days and I'm really enjoying this process.

What I've had a harder time keeping up with is yoga - no classes going right now and I have a hard time doing it on my own, but I've gotten in a couple sessions and I'll be starting class again soon.  Walking everyday - nope - it's been way too cold some days, other days I've been sick, and others I just ran out of day light in this dark time of year.  I'm looking forward to figuring that one out.  And I have written in my gratitude journal for a week - but I've been thinking about gratitude a lot at least.

I've found the patience to be more gentle with my kids, and I'm really proud of that.  I've also been gentle with myself while I'm learning a new job.

Wish me luck keeping on track.

Inside the Red Tent

On Saturday I spent the most wonderful evening with my book group sisters, inside a magnificent Red Tent.  We conceived the idea after reading the book for book club last year and loving it.  Kelli was especially fascinated and enthusiastic about a space where women could retreat and care for one another.  So we planned a special party (a surprise party!!!) for her 39th birthday.  It also turned out to be the week she moved out of her home, left her husband and began a new chapter in her life.

It's difficult to describe the atmosphere inside - giddy, laughing women so excited to be surprising Kelli.  The space itself was beautiful - fabrics and tulle and candles everywhere so it truly felt like a tent (minus the straw on the floor - if that doesn't make sense, read the book).  Huge platters of Mediterrean foods and bottles of wine.  Cushions everywhere.  Women happy to just be together.

We shared stories and inspired quotes (mine's too dirty to publish online- yes, really), wore special beads in solidarity, gave each other pedicures and henna, read Tarot.  It was magical.  Those without nurslings spent the night, staying up until 1 am, just talking, as women do.

Our goal was to fill Kelli with love and inspiration, enough to not only celebrate a special birthday, but see her through a momentous change.

I'm still wearing my bead, right next to my heart, carrying this special night filled with empowerment and encouragement and acceptance and women's love with me.

Here is the story I shared:

When I was 23 years old, I was assigned as a graduate student to teach several History recitation sections.  I had excelled in school, but hated speaking in public, hated speaking in class, hated giving presentations.  I was pretty much terrified of speaking in front of others and avoided it at all costs.  Now I was going to have to not just speak to a bunch of undergrad students, but actually try and teach them something, several times a week, for the next couple years.  I didn’t get any training or anything like that; it was just assumed that grad students could speak and teach.  And I really needed the money.

I stood outside my class on my first day ready to puke.  I felt paralyzed with fear and the clock was ticking.  One of my professors happened to be walking by and noticed me standing there.  She took me to the water fountain and had me run my wrists under cold water (supposedly it helps cool your blood and make you calm - I think she might have just made it up), and then said “Sasha didn’t you give birth to a baby?  Without drugs?” and she laughed, really heartily.  “How could teaching this class possibly compare to that?”  I got it.  I had already done much harder things.  What bad thing would happen if I didn’t do that well?  (One of my students reported that I said “um” too much on my eval.)  I took a deep breath and walked in, and tried to teach them something, I don’t even remember what.  I have carried that day - and that accomplishment, facing my fear, around with me ever since.  What I learned that day is that I am stronger than I think I am, the things I am so afraid of aren’t really so scary usually, and I have done lots of hard things, things other people can’t do and done them well.  You have too.  By the beautiful age of 39 years, you can live fearlessly, because there is nothing stopping you.  Happy Birthday Kelli.  May this be your most amazing year yet.

Delusions

A friend commented to me yesterday "Sometimes delusions help me get through the day."  Yes!  Yes they do.


As someone who tries to be mindful, present, eyes wide open and accepting - how can I accept the role delusion plays in my life? 

Perhaps acknowledging the existence and the fact that delusion can keep me from true happiness if I let it mislead me in large ways can allow me the space to also let delusion comfort me.


How do I delude myself?  Well, although I know death is as constant in life as anything else, most days I choose to believe my beloved older dog will live forever, as will my parents, my children, and everyone else I love.  When death does appear in my mind I try to see it as a reminder that each day, each moment in a life is a gift, and finite.

I see my life as a constant series of improvements, but I know deep down that is a wish as much as anything.  Change is not always good; if I am to come closer to the truth of my inner and essential goodness, then I'm going to have to work very hard.  "Things always get better......except when they don't :)"  If I want them to get better, it usually requires effort, sometimes in a physical sense, but always in a metaphysical sense.  The delusion is that the passage of time itself is an upward curve toward something better - that leads to a lot of complacency.  It also makes going to bed and facing tomorrow a lot easier.

Sometimes I believe our birth culture is going to become more humane and safer.  It breaks my heart to admit this is a delusion.  There is some evidence for more humane - many younger doctors are much more compassionate to their patients, but not much evidence at all for safer.  And I delude myself that women will take birth back and move it in that humane and safe direction, but there's not much evidence of that either (on any kind of large scale or societal level).  This is a delusion I feel I must cling to if I'm going to continue to do birth work and support my clients in a hopeful way, but in darker moments I wonder what my own daughters will face in 10 or 20 years.  It's a delusion that masks the pain of my own powerlessness.

My sense of control over my life is certainly delusion.  But I'm not giving that one up quite yet.  Are you?  The world is a scary chaotic place and the thought that I can keep my children safe, and happy, and myself as well, is one I cling to desperately.

Let it go.....let it all go......It's what I tell the mamas when they think they can't do another contraction.  Let go of your delusions about what labor is or what you can bear and you can birth this baby.  Yes. 

Let go of your delusions and you will be set free and know truth.  Nirvana.  At least the Buddhists believe so.  My heart tells me this is so.  But, I'm not ready quite yet.  I still have today to get through. 

Puppy Tummy

Did you ever wonder why God let humans create such a wasteful products as paper towels?  Well, here's why:  how on Earth would you clean up watery puppy puke at 6:30 am?

And does anyone know how I can possibly clean a papasan cushion, soaked in same, which won't fit into my washer?

I think that's about all I have to say today.  I think you've gotten a pretty good glimpse of my morning.  Here's hoping Sunny's tummy settles down.

A humandural

"Human presence, touch, love, care and calmness are perhaps the greatest natural remedies we have in our birthkits. We might call ourselves “humandurals”! We can take these remedies to any prenatal visit or birth. They don’t need to be washed, autoclaved or re-packed. We need to do the constant work of being kind, loving, caring and non-judgmental, as well as knowledgeable. When we nurture those traits in ourselves, we have the very best natural remedy God ever created for birth."
Jan Tritten,
is the founder, editor-in-chief and mother of Midwifery Today magazine. She became a midwife in 1977 after the amazing homebirth of her second daughter. Her mission is to make loving midwifery care the norm for birthing women and their babies throughout the world.

I love this idea of a humandural, not just for birth.  I know my presence as a doula can help a laboring mother (and her partner) feel less pain, stay calmer and have a safer birth experience, not because of any procedure I do, but simply by my compassionate, loving, accepting and kind human presence.  But what about the rest of my life?

My doula clients often stare in disbelief if I speak of yelling at my kids or being short with my partner....."what?  our kind Sasha doesn't have a unkind bone in her body" they are thinking.  And they certainly haven't seen it, but it does exist.  In the rest of my life I often struggle to be gentle.  (There's that resolution again.)  Many times every day I have to try hard to be gentle to both others (those closest) and to myself.

What if I adopt this idea of being a humandural - permanently, everywhere, with everyone.  Hmmmmm, I have lots of experience and practice being gentle, it's about seeing the other person (or myself) as someone who needs (and deserves) the wonderful calm and compassionate practice.  Perhaps I need to leave my doula heart on throughout my day.

Mending

Getting dressed this morning I discovered a hole in my sweater armpit.  Nice.  Not surprising since it came from thrift and I'm not very good at looking closely at something I think is cute.  As I mended the hole I realized that mending is in the air for me.

My lingering cold finally seems to be letting go (I can stop planning my own funeral now). 

Yesterday I went ice skating for the first time in many years.  A foot surgery and lingering foot pain kept me from the ice but yesterday it just seemed like a beautiful idea.  So B and her little friend and I braved 15 degrees to bask in a pink sunset and glide around for an hour.  It was heaven.  And my foot didn't hurt a bit.  It's finally mended :)

And after months of silent and not so silent self-loathing about my worth as a human being......today I feel happy and optimistic, headed out to the first day of my new job as an assistant librarian.  Job applications, resumes, the want ads, argh.  It's a kind of hell for me.  What are my job skills?  I would rather strip than try and list them.  (Unfortunately, there were no openings for a middle-aged stripper w/ double A cups).  But God smiled on me (and that is the truth) and I found a job I am so excited to begin.  My spirit feels quite mended this morning.

I know there is more mending to do in my life, but a sweater and a foot and a spirit are a damn good start.

A birth hang-over

Today is certainly feeling like the Monday after Christmas break.  Big sigh.  But not because I'm bummed Christmas is over, or because I don't like Mondays.  I had a birth yesterday (2 actually) which was everything birth (and life) is - triumphant, rough, fast, slow, scary, joyful - you get the idea.  The roller coaster of emotions is a tough one to come down from.  I find myself tired, with a headache, yawning at my to-do list and not feeling particularly cheerful. 

In that happy place of a smiling new mother and glowing dad, sweet smelling contented sleeping babies, tearful grandparents, it's easy to feel nothing be gratitude and joy and a sense that life really does all work out like it's supposed to.  Back at home....the feeling can easily wear off for me.

This will be a day of challenges for the new mom and family, recovering, resting hopefully, breastfeeding and managing a toddler too.  For me, I will try and rest too, be gentle to myself (ah, the resolution again!), feel the gratitude and joy and let the rest go.

So it will be a slow Monday, of craft projects w/ my girls, maybe some games and reading of favorite books.  Perhaps we will work on our Amazing Women scrap book.  The Constitution and New Nation (our history lesson) and K's algebra can wait until tomorrow I think.   Oooh, I'm remembering B wanted to draw crazy aliens and make up poems to go with the illustrations.  Sounds like a plan.

5 am

When in the world am I ever up at 5 am?  Only for a baby, that's for sure.  I got the call about an hour ago, my doula bag and snacks are packed and now I'm just waiting for the "we're ready for you to come" call. 

I have a hard time prying myself out of a warm bed, especially when it's 10 degrees (which is actually warmer than it's been for days), but even when it's summer I love to sleep, just a few more minutes.

The magical thing though, is that I relish the quiet, the peacefulness of the sleeping house.  Not even the dogs are up yet.

Happiness is the harvest of a quiet eye.

AUSTIN O'MALLEY

 

 
I wonder at the sense of possibility......what will this day bring?



Well, two sweet babies most likely.  It's been 3 whole months since I've attended a birth and I am more than a little excited to be helping baby twins make their entrance in this new year.  They will join kind, patient parents and a toddler sibling, a most cozy and loving little family.  This mother is hoping for a peaceful, calm experience and given her strength in birthing her firstborn, I think chances are more than good for a lovely birth.  Twins can sometimes be complicated, but I have a good feeling that this birth is going to go smoothly.

“Life began with waking up and loving my mother's face.”

George Elliot

So, I'm going to sip my tea, eat my bowl of oatmeal porridge and wait for my call.  Sometimes birth is all about patience.

May you enjoy the quiet this winter morning.   May you harvest some happiness there.

New Year's Resolutions

I know lots of people hate resolutions, and maybe most don't do well keeping them, but to me they represent that eternal virtue, hope.  I have hope I'll do better this year, that this year will be happier than the last, and that I have some power to make positive changes in my life.  So I'm keeping the tradition, and wish me luck keeping the resolutions.

Since one of my biggest is to be gentler to myself, with the goal of being gentler in general as a happy result, I'm sharing my morning disaster.  I love Flathead cherries and last summer the girls and I pitted bagfuls and threw them in the freezer, for just such a day as today.  I woke up, whipped up a batch of cherry muffins to celebrate the new year, with the last of the frozen cherries.  But Mike was on the computer so I just jotted down the recipe quickly (doubling it of course) and somehow managed to forget the flour.  Ugh.  Wow.  Two whole pans into the garbage disposal.  It was painful for me to watch my sweet creation go down the drain (literally.)  I let myself get mad and sad. 

Then, because resolutions are on my mind, I remembered something - I'm supposed to be gentle.  Long sigh.  Deep breath.  I can't change it.  Everyone makes mistakes.  I silently apologized to the universe for the waste, threw some flour into the last of the batter and put another pan in the oven.  There were 15 more muffins, not ruined.  Not enough to have extra, but just enough to enjoy today for tea time.  I think they are going to taste extra sweet.  (Here's the recipe, I modify by adding cherries).

Yesterday the girls and I spent a couple morning hours making resolution cards to hang in the dining room, where we'd see them everyday - hopeful reminders to be the people we want to be.

Here's why B included "Be nice to cats."

Paris doesn't really enjoy dress up.

Here are the rest of my resolutions:

• Stop rushing, slow down, give myself time (and be on time)
• Delegate (K already took over menu planning !!)
• Practice being peaceful : Yoga & meditation & a little something extra to show kindness each day.
• Time to reflect, journal and blog each day.  Plus an email to my mom, who somehow gets lost in the shuffle of my life and I miss.
• Trust that God is leading me exactly where I need to go.
• More organization - with our school day, my work, our home.
• More diligence in sticking to the routines and rituals that enrich our lives.

Some are relatively easy and not really changes, I seem to always need help remembering to do what I want to do though.  Our resolution wall is meant as a visual reminder - to keep me on track.  Somehow it's easier to chuck 2 panfuls of muffins when "Encourage" and "Trust God" and "Gratitude" are staring back at me.

My goal isn't to make myself perfect but rather to live life as a practice, always circling in closer to who I really am, circling back to God and to peace.  Being gentle is as good a place as any to start.


Wishing you abundant resolve in 2011!