It's New Years Eve and our plans consist of a getting a pizza and uncorking a bottle of champagne.
I forget what we're celebrating, (as meek a celebration as this is).
2012 was not the easiest year. There were things that occurred that make me cringe, so deeply, or cry or shout out and want to curl away into the safety of my house.
Yesterday I almost had a breakdown. I stormed around the house and I told me husband how ANGRY I was and how I didn't know what to do with it or why it was so. And I knew that my heart needed a healing, but I didn't know how. And so I said it all aloud, and we talked and we cried, and somehow that made the wound so much better.
In this time of listmaking I will not make a traditional New Year's resolution list. I do not vow to lose weight. I do now vow to work out more or run more marathons or be a better parent...though those are all perfectly good things I ought to do and may. But we need more than this! WE, this country and this world. This world where schoolchildren get shot and disasters keep coming and US with our wounded hearts and our intentions that can be so misguided. We talk about the weather and about our children's accomplishments and about our exercise regimens and THIS is not what we need to talk about. Perhaps here I should stop, because I do not know what we need. I do not. But if I could guess, this is what I think we need, and what I, in 2013, would like to strive for.
1. More prayers, religious or not. More putting energy on people and really, truly caring for them.
2. More recognition that we are not doing this alone. We can not do this alone. We need each other, and we may as well take care of each other.
3. More bravery in doing things that make us vulnerable. JUMP AWAY from social norms. Get your inner freak on. Be your own BURNING MAN!
4. Less technology. Less television. Less cell phone. Less smart phone. Less ipad. LESS SCREEN.
5. MORE connection. Actual, human connection. Not trying to shy away from people in our lives, whether we know them or not. Again, remembering that we need to take care of each other.
6. More difficult conversations. People are hurting. There are so many people out there wandering around with broken hearts or with a desire to connect. We need to start asking "how are you" but ACTUALLY MEAN IT. Discuss it. It's difficult, and this world seems to do a a remarkable job at quietly shuffling away from those crucial moments and conversations.
7. I will not quietly shuffle away. I want to know you, look you in the eyes and see the you that's in me. The me that's in you. Your pain and my pain. How pain is really not so painful when it's discussed, brought to the surface.
8. I will not stifle. Addressing issues head on and right away keep them from turning inside and forming into monsters. This is where the difficult conversations come in. This is where the taking care of one another comes in.
9. More presence. Not trying to be somewhere else when I'm not there. Giving each moment the attention it deserves.
10. More love and compassion, for others and for MYSELF. It makes all the other stuff easy.
To you, my readers and my friends, I pray for each one of you, that your hearts will feel joy every day. But also that you let yourself feel the sadness, too. For one can simply not know one without the other. This is a world of opposites, where darkness and light form the perfect union of allowing us to experience all that we are.
I pray that you, and I, can let our heart lights shine so very bright in this new year, so full of possibility..
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sweating the big stuff and laughing at the small stuff
These past two weeks have been hard. There has been a LOT of sickness in this house, myself included, and we are all out of whack because of it. It's 10am and my daughter still hasn't woken up. How the hell are we going to get out of the house on time next week?
We took our Christmas decorations down yesterday. There is always a melancholy about that. So much anticipation, so much DISTRACTION. With the end of the tinsel comes the thrust into real life. Not only real life, but a new year.
Today is the first day in a while where I don't feel like total shit. I'm breathing well. I've worked out. I've gotten up HOURS before my family. And I'm feeling ready for some changes.
Today I looked in the mirror for a LONG time. I rarely do this. I studied myself. My wrinkles. The smooth parts. I wanted to like what I see. I see a lot of aging. My eyes aren't super white. My creases are more defined. I can go in two directions when I stand in front of the mirror. The direction of loathing or the direction of acceptance.
I'm choosing acceptance.
When you're married you (or maybe just me) don't live in a world of many compliments. Unlike my 20's, my beauty must come from my own personal acceptance, very, very often with no external validation. Do I miss this? Hell yeah. But since becoming a mother I have transformed, well in a million ways, but in this way I have changed in my own physical transformation. My beauty must come from within. No good can come from self loathing, and truly, this is not an activity I engage in. I don't loathe myself, but sometimes I don't always "like" myself, the words that come out of my mouth, the look on my face when I'm upset. Very often I just avoid mirrors all together. But today, I looked, long and hard, and I won't tell you that I thought I was the glowing beauty I sometimes thought I (perhaps vainly) was in my 20's. But I did see me, peering through those eyes with the soft lines of crow's feet gently appearing beside them. My spirit shines out into the world through those eyes, and whether they be crying or laughing, they are mine.
I have a glowing spirit inside of me. You can see it in my eyes, in the creases well formed from years of smiling. You can see it in my heart that beats and aches and mourns and oh how it loves. You can see my own glowing spirit searching yours, seeking connection. Or perhaps you may not notice me at all, when my glow is dimmed, too frightened to connect.
In getting to know me I've learned that I am really quite sensitive. Things and events affect me, often deeply. My job in caring for people that are dying sometimes takes its toll. Sometimes I wonder if part of my lack of glow is from taking on, or rather, being a part of so much grief. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I cry very hard and imagine my patients, my family, the events of the world. And sometimes I have the most inappropriate laughing reactions.
Last night my husband burned his mustache and he was really kind of upset about it. For some reason, it made me laugh uncontrollably. I seriously thought it was the funniest thing I had seen in a very long time. But he didn't think so and he went to bed mad. When he called me insensitive and stormed off, you know what I did? I laughed. I fucking laughed! I still think that was the funniest damn thing. That big ol hairy mustache that he can't stop playing with, the thing BURNED. I mean, COME ON!!!
Ok, perhaps I am insensitive.
Or maybe I can make light out of a situation that really, is not all that important in the grand scheme of things.
I am not a perfect person.
But I will love you, if you let me.
Even if you don't.
We took our Christmas decorations down yesterday. There is always a melancholy about that. So much anticipation, so much DISTRACTION. With the end of the tinsel comes the thrust into real life. Not only real life, but a new year.
Today is the first day in a while where I don't feel like total shit. I'm breathing well. I've worked out. I've gotten up HOURS before my family. And I'm feeling ready for some changes.
Today I looked in the mirror for a LONG time. I rarely do this. I studied myself. My wrinkles. The smooth parts. I wanted to like what I see. I see a lot of aging. My eyes aren't super white. My creases are more defined. I can go in two directions when I stand in front of the mirror. The direction of loathing or the direction of acceptance.
I'm choosing acceptance.
When you're married you (or maybe just me) don't live in a world of many compliments. Unlike my 20's, my beauty must come from my own personal acceptance, very, very often with no external validation. Do I miss this? Hell yeah. But since becoming a mother I have transformed, well in a million ways, but in this way I have changed in my own physical transformation. My beauty must come from within. No good can come from self loathing, and truly, this is not an activity I engage in. I don't loathe myself, but sometimes I don't always "like" myself, the words that come out of my mouth, the look on my face when I'm upset. Very often I just avoid mirrors all together. But today, I looked, long and hard, and I won't tell you that I thought I was the glowing beauty I sometimes thought I (perhaps vainly) was in my 20's. But I did see me, peering through those eyes with the soft lines of crow's feet gently appearing beside them. My spirit shines out into the world through those eyes, and whether they be crying or laughing, they are mine.
I have a glowing spirit inside of me. You can see it in my eyes, in the creases well formed from years of smiling. You can see it in my heart that beats and aches and mourns and oh how it loves. You can see my own glowing spirit searching yours, seeking connection. Or perhaps you may not notice me at all, when my glow is dimmed, too frightened to connect.
In getting to know me I've learned that I am really quite sensitive. Things and events affect me, often deeply. My job in caring for people that are dying sometimes takes its toll. Sometimes I wonder if part of my lack of glow is from taking on, or rather, being a part of so much grief. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I cry very hard and imagine my patients, my family, the events of the world. And sometimes I have the most inappropriate laughing reactions.
Last night my husband burned his mustache and he was really kind of upset about it. For some reason, it made me laugh uncontrollably. I seriously thought it was the funniest thing I had seen in a very long time. But he didn't think so and he went to bed mad. When he called me insensitive and stormed off, you know what I did? I laughed. I fucking laughed! I still think that was the funniest damn thing. That big ol hairy mustache that he can't stop playing with, the thing BURNED. I mean, COME ON!!!
Ok, perhaps I am insensitive.
Or maybe I can make light out of a situation that really, is not all that important in the grand scheme of things.
I am not a perfect person.
But I will love you, if you let me.
Even if you don't.
Monday, December 24, 2012
From our home to yours
Snowflakes Ribbon Christmas Card
Customize your Christmas cards this season at Shutterfly.com.
View the entire collection of cards.
We wish you love, peace, and abundance.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Joys....there are many
Changing the pace, there is just SO MUCH to be joyful about.
Despite grief that is present, joys are not hidden.
Not at all.
If anything, they are more lit
and more appreciated.
 |
| Hiking |
 |
| Downtown walks |
 |
| Little friends |
 |
| Barren and beautiful |
 |
| Parade of lights |
 |
| Crowded and fun |
 |
| The Ugly Sweater Run...a blast! |
 |
| Ellie loves spending time on the weekends with her friends Henry and Milo (not pictured) |
 |
| I saw Patty Griffin! (I LOVE Patty Griffin!) |
 |
| The Candy Cane Festival at Hammond's Candies |
 |
| And Francis, our silly little elf |
Mourning
I'm still writing about this, fresh as it is.
Each morning thereafter I wake up from nightmares,
about children
I wake with a pit in my stomach
that becomes a waterfall of tears before noon.
I've done good about staying away from the news.
But I know it's out there.
My husband tells me a little.
I see things (accidentally) on the internet.
But the one thing I have been very clear about avoiding,
are the faces,
the faces of the children.
the children who were not protected from harm.
The defenseless.
The children that could have belonged to anyone.
To me.
Today I saw a face. I didn't mean to.
A six year old named Jessica.
My first reaction was to quickly shut down the screen,
but I didn't. I lingered.
I cried, hard.
Sweet little 6 year old Jessica.
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
I won't lie to you, sometimes it feels really hard to exist in a world
where children get shot,
knowing that the love of my life, my beautiful daughter,
goes out there, in the world, and that I can not shield her from all harm.
This breaks me in such a way that I can not articulate.
My heart hurts, and I know I do not stand alone.
Sometimes in the midst of a broken heart
the answers do not come readily
(though you search high and low for them)
perhaps because sometimes
there are no answers.
If you see me, know that I am not a puddle of tears.
I get by in the world.
I feel joys of Christmas with my family
and my friends.
But I, like so many others, am grieving
I am grieving for children I do not know
and I'm grieving for the ability to keep our children safe
at all times.
My days are riddled with moments of tears
and with these tears comes a release that I know I need.
And of course, there is gratitude,
the sweeping love of my beautiful family,
the even breathing patterns
the innumerable hugs
the warm flesh that I press my lips into.
This is all salve for a broken heart,
salve that I am fortunate to have,
knowing there are so many others who
don't get that luxury anymore.
(It's just not fair)..
Each morning thereafter I wake up from nightmares,
about children
I wake with a pit in my stomach
that becomes a waterfall of tears before noon.
I've done good about staying away from the news.
But I know it's out there.
My husband tells me a little.
I see things (accidentally) on the internet.
But the one thing I have been very clear about avoiding,
are the faces,
the faces of the children.
the children who were not protected from harm.
The defenseless.
The children that could have belonged to anyone.
To me.
Today I saw a face. I didn't mean to.
A six year old named Jessica.
My first reaction was to quickly shut down the screen,
but I didn't. I lingered.
I cried, hard.
Sweet little 6 year old Jessica.
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
I won't lie to you, sometimes it feels really hard to exist in a world
where children get shot,
knowing that the love of my life, my beautiful daughter,
goes out there, in the world, and that I can not shield her from all harm.
This breaks me in such a way that I can not articulate.
My heart hurts, and I know I do not stand alone.
Sometimes in the midst of a broken heart
the answers do not come readily
(though you search high and low for them)
perhaps because sometimes
there are no answers.
If you see me, know that I am not a puddle of tears.
I get by in the world.
I feel joys of Christmas with my family
and my friends.
But I, like so many others, am grieving
I am grieving for children I do not know
and I'm grieving for the ability to keep our children safe
at all times.
My days are riddled with moments of tears
and with these tears comes a release that I know I need.
And of course, there is gratitude,
the sweeping love of my beautiful family,
the even breathing patterns
the innumerable hugs
the warm flesh that I press my lips into.
This is all salve for a broken heart,
salve that I am fortunate to have,
knowing there are so many others who
don't get that luxury anymore.
(It's just not fair)..
Saturday, December 15, 2012
My love, my heart.
I hardly know what to say.
You can search deep inside yourself and never understand how someone can inflict such horror as was inflicted yesterday in Connecticut.
I stand with millions in terror, helplessness, fear
and profound, and deep sadness.
My love, my heart,
I'm so confused.
Yesterday, on that terrible horrible day, I picked up my daughter from school early.
I held her close.
I let her sleep in my bed last night.
I felt her breathing, slow and deep, nestled into my arms.
She was with me. She is with me.
I am so grateful for this, yet it doesn't seem fair.
There are people right now, at this very moment, experiencing the kind of pain that comes in my worst nightmares.
To them I am so sorry. I wish there was something to offer. Something to make the pain go away.
I want to be big enough to make this not hurt.
My love, my heart.
I will never understand this.
My friends you will not find me on Facebook for a while. I am staying away from the news, the social media, and anything that takes away from the LIFE that is here with me right now. This is something I've wanted to do for some time, but now it is just inevitable. If you want to reach me please call me, write me, visit me. I want to connect to people the way I did as a little girl, before everything became impersonal and isolated.
I will continue to pray for all of the grieving hearts, the ones immediately affected, and the collective heart of this world.
My love, my heart.
-- Summer
You can search deep inside yourself and never understand how someone can inflict such horror as was inflicted yesterday in Connecticut.
I stand with millions in terror, helplessness, fear
and profound, and deep sadness.
My love, my heart,
I'm so confused.
Yesterday, on that terrible horrible day, I picked up my daughter from school early.
I held her close.
I let her sleep in my bed last night.
I felt her breathing, slow and deep, nestled into my arms.
She was with me. She is with me.
I am so grateful for this, yet it doesn't seem fair.
There are people right now, at this very moment, experiencing the kind of pain that comes in my worst nightmares.
To them I am so sorry. I wish there was something to offer. Something to make the pain go away.
I want to be big enough to make this not hurt.
My love, my heart.
I will never understand this.
My friends you will not find me on Facebook for a while. I am staying away from the news, the social media, and anything that takes away from the LIFE that is here with me right now. This is something I've wanted to do for some time, but now it is just inevitable. If you want to reach me please call me, write me, visit me. I want to connect to people the way I did as a little girl, before everything became impersonal and isolated.
I will continue to pray for all of the grieving hearts, the ones immediately affected, and the collective heart of this world.
My love, my heart.
-- Summer
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Joining
We spin in a circle,
Each day full of tasks, responsibilities, trials and tribulations.
We sleep. We eat. We do. We rise.
I sneak up in the wee morning hours to obtain a few unsolicited moments
where the morning light has not yet risen
and the streets are quiet with possibility.
Eventually I am joined by my three year old
who runs to my place on the couch and where
I hold her close for a minute, 5, 20,
however much time we wish for this connection.
This moment, however long, is my soul food
and as I hold her I am blissfully unaware (for at least a fleeting moment)
of the rising sun and the ticking clock and the things that I must do and say and be
and it is just us, her and I, suspended in time,
connecting, as humans do,
as humans long for.
Each day full of tasks, responsibilities, trials and tribulations.
We sleep. We eat. We do. We rise.
I sneak up in the wee morning hours to obtain a few unsolicited moments
where the morning light has not yet risen
and the streets are quiet with possibility.
Eventually I am joined by my three year old
who runs to my place on the couch and where
I hold her close for a minute, 5, 20,
however much time we wish for this connection.
This moment, however long, is my soul food
and as I hold her I am blissfully unaware (for at least a fleeting moment)
of the rising sun and the ticking clock and the things that I must do and say and be
and it is just us, her and I, suspended in time,
connecting, as humans do,
as humans long for.
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