Black Friday

I'm not into crowds unless we're talking concerts. I've never gone shopping on Black Friday because I don't like to witness the ugly side of consumerism--and it can get ugly. But I can get behind events that support local crafters, which is what I did yesterday, selling bracelets for my friend Tiffany's company, {made} community, at the Market Day event in the downtown Des Moines Kirkwood building. The lobby itself is worth the visit--original art deco and gorgeous. There were 70 crafters from the midwest selling their goods and it was busy. It was good to see such support for local handmade products--good to see people ditching the malls and big box stores to make it down. So many beautiful people out there! I ran into some friends and one of them asked me if it bothered me to hear stories of others happy in their marriages now that my marriage has ended. It's a fair question. Honestly, it doesn't at all I told her. For one, I am happy with my own lot these days. And also, because I truly believe that this life I am living, the events that occur, are meant to be so there is no feeling of "why me?" Everything I face is teaching me something I was meant to learn. Whatever is happening is what is supposed to happen, so how could I be anything but open to it, anything but thankful for the experience that shapes character. And as the crowd at Market Day reminded me, there are so many beautiful people out there! Some come and go from our lives, some stay--no matter the course I feel blessed for the markings of their beauty.

Thanksgiving

We spent the morning and afternoon at my parent's for Thanksgiving. 31 relatives were present. We ate a bird and stuffing and potatoes and salads and rolls and deviled eggs and too many sweets to list. The aunts always keeping space in the kitchen with their stories and memories and gossip--their voices rising and rolling like the land in which they grew up, a place deep in the countryside. The uncles forever sprawled on sofas watching football with few words yet with a kind of contented knowing. Breath and bones. Cousins and siblings and kids as couriers, traveling from room to room to the outdoors in haste like blood cells. As if together we form the whole intention of our ancestors. And how many it takes to shape them. I am thankful for history, for the present it forms.

Some Kind of Web

Yesterday was Fisher's school conference and the first words out of his teacher's mouth were--Fisher is awesome. She went on to say how he made friends with and included everyone, how he was kind and shared, how he had never gotten in trouble, how he was imaginative, how she would love a whole class of Fishers. For the most part he handled any issues with other more aggressive kids on his own, only bringing attention to the teachers a few times. Basically, he uses his words. This is something I discuss with him constantly--use words, explain yourself, share, be kind. We have these discussions because at home with me and his sister he doesn't always do these things--he gets frustrated, argues over toys with Phoenix, doesn't like to pick up the by-products of all his art projects, has to be told 20 times to do things like brush his teeth and get dressed! We are often late. In these struggles I often question if I'm doing enough or doing it right. But clearly he is proving himself in the world at large. Why is it kids are so much better behaved with others? Come to think of it, aren't we all? For the most part I don't take his outbursts at home to heart because to me it shows that he can trust me, that he feels safe to experience and express the gamut of emotions he needs to work through. So it is an honor even though it isn't always easy. At some level things are sticking. I've been surprised and blessed with people letting me know how much they look forward to reading my blog posts. Some folks have even contacted me to let me know that my words have helped them work through the things they are facing in their own lives. I appreciate when people reach out like this because it offers that same kind of glance at how we indirectly connect with and affect others. There's got to be a phrase for this--something that includes the words "web" and "intention". I want to say that even if we can't see it, things are always happening. No matter how lonely you feel your outreach is greater than you can imagine. We are not isolated, but rather quite beautifully interconnected.

Took the kids out to lunch to celebrate Fisher's good work at school. He, of course, chose Big City Burgers.

A Poem On A Tuesday

I subscribe to a poetry once a day site so I start every day off reading a poem. Today's poem was so remarkable that I had to share. I don't care how cold it is today, I will be going for a walk in the woods so that I will "have changed, a little."

You can find it here...

Sending Vibes

You know how when you sometimes hear a certain idea or phrase and all of a sudden it seems to crop up in conversation with strange frequency? The phrase for me lately is that all life is a transfer of energy. It's true for everything from car engines to plants and animals to people. Think of how the moods of others can affect your own mood. So even our moods have an energy to them. I feel like this idea kept appearing in my life because there was something I hadn't seen, something I needed to learn. I just discovered it. I recently had a new friend in my life who had a lot of great qualities, but they were also very guarded. They didn't start out that way--it was an easy, comfortable, and reciprocal friendship to start. But suddenly they withdrew out of self-described caution. It's interesting how you can pull back layers upon layers of various reactions to reveal one word. In this case--doubt. Because at the root of a guarded spirit is doubt. And it was doubtful energy that was transferred to me--I see that now. I had been driven to frustration, found myself thinking and questioning too much. But now it is clear why that phrase of transferring energy kept appearing in my life...I had absorbed the energy of doubt and I wasn't aware that is what had been causing my frustration. But now having acknowledged this fact, I've let the doubt go. And that's all it takes to remove the things that block us--acknowledge them and then release them. And then be mindful not to cloud your awareness so you won't become stuck again. Hey...people don't call me a hippie for nothing.

Legend Has It

There are a lot of big old oak trees in my neighborhood so mounds of leaves flank the streets. I want to drive through them, watch them blow about and tumble through the air in the rear view mirror. I want to hear the sound it makes. But I don't and here's why--someone once told me a story about a kid getting run over because they were hiding in a leaf pile alongside a curb. Who knows if it's true or from where the story originated. So I was driving--hugging that center line--and it got me thinking about urban legends. I remember when I was little there was a weariness to trick-or-treat candy because word spread that some kid had discovered a razor in one of their treats. (Razors seem to be a popular theme in these legends.) I'm sure the story went something like this: "he bit into it and it cut off his tongue," because shock and alarm seem to be the hallmarks of urban legends. It's likely that the razor bit never happened, that it was born of some parent trying to get their child to stop eating candy. And just like that the idea spread spontaneously, morphing from a tool to curb a child's sugar fix to a thing of fear. So there I'm driving and I can't stop laughing about all of the urban legends I've heard over the years and how funny it would be to come up with my own obscure legends but with a totally different edge. I'm thinking more on the lines of "if you stare at a full moon on an empty stomach you'll start craving pancakes every day for the rest of your life," or "if you walk backwards while whistling you are my sunshine, an owl will land on your head and you'll forever have dreams that you are flying." Something sweet and funny. But I wonder, without the element of fear present in these would it spread with the same gusto? I wonder if the current legends hold weight because we let fear be our guide for living...

Cold

The most beautiful phrase I heard this week was uttered by someone I recently met who had lived in Alaska for 10 years. I was telling him how I'd traveled to most of the states but never to Alaska and it had always been a dream of mine to go there. He said most people obviously visit in the summer but the winter was an experience all its own--to see the northern lights, to witness that kind of cold. He said 50 below didn't feel as cold as the winters around here because in Alaska you don't have the wind chill. There's just one kind of cold. The only animals you come across in that season are moose and ravens. And the winter cold makes the air so quiet that you can step outside and hear the wing beats of ravens slicing through the air. Now there are a lot of sounds that I find endearing--the ping of flag posts as they clap for themselves in the night, the hollow scuttle of cans when kicked or blown across concrete, the hiss of damp wood being ravaged by a fire--but the sound of a ravens wing beats against the backdrop of nothing else I imagine would trump all of these. It's like saying you can hear a fly cough or the earth orbiting or a thought unfurl. And there it is--something else I need to know.

Late Nights

I've stayed up late the past few nights so my mornings haven't come to me early enough to get much writing done. If I don't make the time before the kids awake then it doesn't happen that day as I prefer to write at the start of the day when my thoughts are my own, untouched by the litany of daily distraction. Right now the dog is at my feet and the kids flank my sides...but I wanted to give some words. So here's this: I was having a discussion with a friend the other day and the subject of music, namely songs by Radiohead, came about, to which he noted "Everything in its Right Place and Different Names For the Same Things--between the two of those songs you pretty much got life covered." I've been chewing on that thought, and that's all I can do for now...

Say Something

Is there anything more frustrating than indifference? Detached, impassive, unmindful? There's that line in one of The Lumineers songs that goes "the opposite of love's indifference." There couldn't be a truer definition. In high school I was voted most opinionated so it's no wonder that I find indifference to be such a thorn. But if we are to matter shouldn't things matter to us? And I'm not saying one should be fixed in their ideas but that we should at least gather our thoughts and seek an answer while being open to the fact that that answer can change. And I'm not saying one should find every issue to be of such great importance that it demands a strong opinion. And of course we don't have to agree. I just find it to be a respectful, attractive thing when others express their passions, their ideas and feelings. You don't have to wave them above your head and shout them to the world--though that's fine too--there are lots of ways in which we express ourselves and certainly our personalities shape our expressive forms. I'm not even sure why I'm ranting about this today--the idea came out of nowhere and I went with it. But it helped structure another thought--if we are to matter we should make things matter. I guess what I'm trying to say is say something!

A Poem On A Monday

I don't believe this one needs an introduction other than to say it's an oldie of mine.

First Impressions

Why does a butterfly lie low on a rock

at the edge of a gravel parking lot

not for minutes, but hours?  What about

a man, what possesses him to wear

a straw hat in wind on a bike with a flag

that spells out peace, love, anarchy? 

Maybe he woke one morning with a mind

for action, decided to wave

his life above his head. See him now,

unsure of himself for years and then

that morning in the shower, the idea

coming to him like a scent, how he

stood there and let the drunken water

wash over him. Years from now he’ll be

walking, laugh with the memory of that day. 

There he’ll be in a town laughing,

others will hear him and look, and what

will they think of him, a man with an unkempt

garden upstairs, a man in love, a bit of both? 

They won’t know how he laughs

at the mind, what it remembers.

We don’t know what anyone’s thinking,

all those tracks in the mind. There are

days we just need to start something, speak

words we’ve never mouthed before, sit

in a bar at two in the afternoon—elbows

on an oak slab, a tall one in hand—just me

and a cowboy sipping wine. I came

because I’ve never known a bar at this time

alone, came to drink in a place

where all that thinking goes down, who would know

this? It echoes like a coffin in here. I feel all those

ideas left behind as loose shirts.

Casey Lord

The Question

So...what do you do? It's the question most often asked during first-time encounters, a question I fear will be asked of me even more so these days. If you ask me this question is a complete cop-out because it is a rare thing when the job a person does really defines them. Some people are blessed with a job that is truly in line with their passion in life but I would venture to say that the majority don't or can't define themselves with the work through which they are compensated. To them the money is a means to pay the bills and to provide the opportunity to follow their true passion. I wonder if the question is asked more often to subconsciously gauge how much money the person makes. It's a conspiracy! I kid. Sort of. I digress...why don't we ask "what would you choose to do," or better yet, "what makes you happy or content or laugh or..." Imagine if someone were to ask you the latter question--wouldn't it make you reflect on who you are in a more intimate manner than then pre-rehearsed answer you would give to what it is that you "do." My problem with "what do you do" is that I find myself rambling off a list of things (stay at home mother, writer, learner, and so on) when I'm sure the one who probed the question is looking for a brief one word answer. As if we can place a person in a tidy little box. As if we are what we are paid to do. As if money is the source for being. I know this question will continue to be asked but I just want to say--lets not stop there.

Opportunity Knocking

Yesterday the kids and I discovered a woodpecker in our screened-in porch. It's as if it appeared out of thin air as we hardly use that porch and thus the doors remain closed most of the time and one of us would have noticed it piggybacking its way in. But there it was. Fisher of course wanted to keep it. When he understood that couldn't be so we opened the doors to offer it an escape and then we stood in the house, pressed to the glass slider, and watched. It wouldn't budge so we let it be and came back later to find it gone. The doors remain open even now. Maybe I read too much into things, maybe I look too hard--but I started to wonder why a woodpecker and not a sparrow or swallow or any other bird. Maybe it's a kind of sign from the universe. And because I not only have what some may view as odd notions, but also odd habits, I googled "woodpecker spirit meaning". Did you know that Native American Shamans believe animals are like guides that offer us insight and impart messages? There are loads of sites and books that detail the meanings behind animals, so whenever I come across an animal that seems out of place I look them up on one of these sites out of pure curiosity--another way to shine light on an experience and draw connections because as a writer that's what I like to do. Here's what was said about the woodpecker: "it is signaling you that great changes are happening in your life and it is up to you to seize the moment. Whether it is the renewal of an old project, the finishing of a new project or simply a serendipitous meeting with someone in your life. Whatever way you perceive it know that the door is wide open for you right now." Some other words attached to its meaning were: increase of activities, progress, attention, opportunity, determination, listening, communication. Maybe it is true...I'll go with that.

A Good Song

I recently discovered the band Trouble In The Wind. I can't sit still when I hear the singer's voice. Here's a taste of their work. The song is titled Rising...

Whatever

Lately I've been thinking about the word 'whatever'. It's one of those words that, given the tone and context, has more than one connotation. Picture Moon Zappa in her father's (Frank Zappa) song titled "Valley Girl" using this word in the way she does other phrases like "like" and "gag me with a spoon." Picture its use after a heated argument and it becomes another way of dismissing the other person. And then there's the Doris Day song "Que Sera, Sera," which goes something like this: "Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be; the future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, what will be, will be." It is the latter use of it that I am struck with, that has given me a new appreciation for the word. Isn't it absolutely bewildering and stunning how the universe seems to constantly bring us face to face with obstacles that challenge our weaknesses? It's as if we are confronted repeatedly with the challenge of ourselves until we get it right. Only then can we move on from that cyclical spell. Because we aren't here to remain unchanged in our ways. We are doing a disservice to life if we don't seek to continually grow and improve. I lack patience, which can be a positive attribute when faced with a decision that requires quick thinking, which often means that I don't dally about but rather go after things straight on. But when it comes to matters of the future I need to drop my impatience and just allow things to happen on their own time and to enjoy things as they come. To let go of my desire to figure out what's next and just be in the moment. I think I'll make "Que Sera, Sera" my new anthem song.

THE SAGAN SERIES - The Pale Blue Dot

Last night a friend sent me this video clip, and I was so moved by it that I had to share. We live on this speck in the universe with finite resources, surrounded by over 7 billion other humans--why would we do anything but preserve, show kindness, and share. It's serves as a reminder that sometimes we need to get over ourselves...

Click here to view the video clip.

Changes

Some of you might be wondering why I prefaced yesterday's post with the line that it wasn't about Derek. Some of you already know. I knew last fall that our marriage would never be the same when the ficus tree we purchased 17 years ago and had nurtured into a looming 7 foot tree died--left outside in the frost. Neglected. I took it as a sign. The fact is Derek and I are divorced. We signed the final divorce decree on Friday and it will be official November 16. After 17 years of togetherness, after 3 states, 2 homes, 1 dog, and 2 incredible kids, we changed in ways that I'll just say left us feeling amiss. I'm not going to go into who started what and why because it doesn't matter. We are where we are. And most importantly, some day our kids will be able to read. Here's what they need to know--they were born of love and that kind of love is never a regret. I am only thankful for those years. They are a part of me like the limbs on my body. I have no bitterness and no anger because I believe things happen for a reason and as you know, I always find and hold to the positive. It's made me stronger, made me awaken further, will only make me better. And who knows what kind of future it will make. I honestly look forward to that discovery. And when people ask me "are you alright" I say of course I am--I have no other choice. Everything will be fine because that's what our kids need and that's what they will get. Derek and I remain friends--we still have dinner together, still talk, still show respect. And you will never read ill words about him on here because for one, they aren't necessary, and most importantly, I would never diminish who he is in our kids' minds. He's a great person and has a lot to give to the world. The kids look up to him and rightly so. This is what I tell them all the time--you have two parents who love you and would do anything for you no matter where they live. And that is something that will never ever change.

Impostors

Right now there are hundreds of black birds stirring in the air and the leaves on the trees around here are mostly gone, so when they land on one in droves they make a perfectly black-leafed tree. A night tree. But it isn't night. The sky has just been lit and up there above the birds is a long jet exhaust contrail pretending to be a cloud. It stretches as far as I can see. It reminds me that for all the beauty and honesty in the world, for all the real connections we make with others, there are still impostors. People that at first glance seem legitimate, but once you take the time to look closer it becomes clear--they aren't who they seem. They don't have your best interests in mind. They are, in a word, selfish. Of course everyone is a bit selfish as the name itself contains it. But there's a difference between the kind of selfish that takes the time to care for the self and the kind that takes the time for nobody but their own self--the one who gives nothing away. I know I always talk about how I try to live through my heart in an open and positive way, but that doesn't mean we should let our guard down and let the world have its way with us. Because it isn't all rainbows and sunshine and unicorns now is it. Simply, sometimes people are mean. So when it happens that you are faced with one of those pretenders you just can't take it personally. It's not about you, it's about them. It's about their inability to have a real exchange or to give of themselves. So there's the silver lining I suppose. And this too--there are still hundreds of black birds out there.

The What and When

I workout daily and even my recent foot surgery kept me away from my exercise regimen for only 2 weeks. I prefer Tabata workouts, where you rotate between doing 2 moves for 20 seconds each with a 10 second break for a total of 4 times (or 4 minutes). So here's my workout for when I want to take it a little easy but still feel like I got something done (it takes 27 minutes):
Set 1 (do 4 times):
1st move: Lunges with rear leg inclined (prop one foot behind you on a chair and squat down so it looks like your planted leg is in a lunge--switch sides after 10 seconds).
2nd move: Weighted squat with arm twist (hold a weight above your head and as you squat down bring the weight down across your body to one side, so that you're twisting at the waist).
Set 2:
1st move: Twist crunch with weights (just like it sounds--do side to side crunches whilst holding weights)
2nd move: Mountain climbers
Set 3:
1st move: Side plank raises (from side plank, lift up the leg that is on top for a beat and release--continue for 10 seconds and then switch sides)
2nd move: Weighted side lunges
Set 4:
1st move: Jumping jacks
2nd move: 10 pushups followed by 10 dips
Set 5:
1st move: High knees
2nd move: Reverse plank raises (get in low plank--on your elbows--and alternate raising your legs as high as you can)
Set 6:
1st move: Jump rope
2nd move: Front rows (looks like you're rowing a boat, but with weights)
For the last set do these 2 moves for 30 seconds each (no rest), 3 times thru: reverse crunches and flutter kicks.
So there that is. And now this--I often get asked when I have time to work out--I'm a stay at home mom. My first reaction is always--what? Of course I have time...I do it every morning while the kids are awake either watching a cartoon or eating breakfast or tearing up the house. I head to my room, turn up the music and do it. Sometimes they will try to do the same moves I do, sometimes (like yesterday) they jump on my bed as they watch. It doesn't seem like a big deal to me. I believe that in taking the time for myself to do the things that I think are important to my physical and mental well being--like exercising or reading a book, which by the way I also do in front of them--I am bettering not only myself but them as well. I'm setting an example. How could it not benefit them to see me doing the things I enjoy? And it's not like I spend my entire day doing things for myself, it's just that I don't think they need me looking over their shoulder and getting down and gritty playing with them and holding their hand through every task every single minute of the day. That isn't good for any of us. They need time to themselves as well, they need to discover how to entertain themselves, how to be self-led. There is time for all of it in a day, it just takes balance. I've never been one to read books on how to parent, but the one that I did read, which I happened to like very much is titled The Idle Parent: Why Laid-back Parents Raise Happier and Healthier Kids by Tom Hodgkinson. The author claims that in worrying and helicoptering over children to keep them flawless we are doing them a disservice. That "in our quest to give our kids everything, we fail to give them the two things they need most: the space and time to grow up self-reliant, confident, happy, and free," and that parents should "stop worrying and instead start nurturing the natural instincts toward creativity and independence that are found in every child." I remember shaking my head yes in fervent agreement on every page of the book. And if you're in the mood to read more about this topic, check out this post from a blog that was sent to me yesterday (which ironically occurred after I already decided that I was going to write about the subject for today's post--I'm not alone!): why-my-kids-are-not-center-of-my-world.html

Questions of Fear

Yesterday Fisher asked me if I could live all the way until next Halloween. I told him I'd do everything in my power to do so. Earlier in the day the kids and I were driving and came across the first quiet seconds of the aftermath of an accident. There was a truck in the ditch that had veered off the road and flipped numerous times--you could tell by the tracks in the earth and the dents and chunks of grass on the roof of the truck. The lone occupant--a woman--sat in the driver's seat with her hands held up to her face in shocking wonder. The driver of another truck was making his way to the scene. I told the kids to think of her--to send hope that she was alright. We talked about the seriousness of driving, how we need to stay alert and be safe. I don't know if it was the accident or a song he heard or just his sensitive mind, but Fisher was truly concerned about my safety last night. I took the kids out to dinner because the weather and early dark left us stir crazy and all throughout Fisher kept asking what would happen to him and to Phoenix when I died. He was particularly concerned about being alone with no one to care for him and no way to get in touch with anyone. Who would come get him, who would take him to school, and what if he died--what would happen to Phoenix then? With every question his face tensed, withholding tears. I did my best to ease his mind--told him police officers have ways of finding and contacting relatives, told him our neighbors would help, that he would never be alone because so many people love him. I showed him how to dial 911 on my phone and I promised him that we would go visit the neighbors today to discuss what to do in the case of an accident. With every answer I gave I could see his face lighten, could see the gears of his mind clicking away through his eyes. We held hands as we ate. I'm here now, I said, so lets enjoy this moment and all the ones hereafter that we share. I sang him that Tom Petty song that goes "most things I worry about, never happen anyway..." Sing it again he said. And I did.

Fisher's preschool picture

A Poem On A Tuesday

I was going to include a few poems by James Wright yesterday, but I got caught up reading them all morning instead. And then my son woke with a fever so my priorities shifted. Had I posted yesterday, these are the poems I would have included:

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s 

Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,

Asleep on the black trunk,

Blowing like a leaf in green shadows.

Down the ravine behind the empty house,

The cowbells follow one another

Into the distance of the afternoon.

To my right,

In a field of sunlight between pines,

Two droppings of last year’s horses

Blaze up in golden stones.

I lean back, as evening darkens and comes on.

A chicken hawk floats over, looking for a home.

I have wasted my life.

Today I Was So Happy, So I Made This Poem

As the plump squirrel scampers

Across the roof of the corncrib,

The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness,

And I see that it is impossible to die.

Each moment of time is a mountain.

An eagle rejoices in the oak trees of heaven,

Crying

This is what I wanted.

This Is How I Do It

I'm not very good at meditating, though I've tried many times--sitting upright and proper, focusing on breath, and emptying my mind. The problem is I think too much, or I get bored of sitting there, or I want the time to pass more quickly so I can get started on all the things I recall needing done, or my back gets stiff and uncomfortable... Meditation is touted as a great physical and mental benefit, is purported to improve health, which is why I keep trying to make a go at it. But today I realized that I don't have to try because I do it all the time. I was sitting in the living room looking out the window at the maple tree ablaze in its autumnness and I was thinking how utterly beautiful it was--those leaves that provided shade all summer, teeming with phosphorous. And now that they've given all they could they will fall and turn to dust, giving the air that smell of spice, decomposing and becoming part of the dirt which will feed new life. I gave my mind over completely to admiring so that my heart wanted to burst with the loveliness of it and I felt like I could cry. So this is my way of meditating--to look at a small thing of beauty in the world, to see its beauty, to be thankful for my eyes. It doesn't matter how long I look or how I sit or if my mind wanders. I feel the same calming benefits of textbook meditation every time I appreciate life. And that is so damn easy to do.

On Forgiveness

I can't think of anything that psychologically enslaves us more than anger and regret. When you are unwilling to forgive you carry the weight of whatever misdeed that occurred like some grey fog. You wouldn't think there is a weight to fog but it is there in the absence of space--open and light and searching. How many times have you been upset by something and stayed upset, unforgiving? Days and years can pass and you can recall the source of your anger as if it is fresh. The world out to get you. But the only thing that can get you is your own mind, is how you relate, how you perceive, and whether or not you let things go. It isn't a weakness to let things slide and carry on, to forgive people for treating you wrong. It isn't as if you're opening some door to allow others to continue to wrong you. I think that's what it is--the fear of being seen as weak and/or a lack of confidence that renders one unable to forgive. But really to forgive takes strength, takes the ability to recognize that there are several other factors at play in the world (I'm thinking of crossfires and others' selfishness, I'm thinking of people like Nelson Mandela--feared and used as a scapegoat). But it isn't you versus the world. Our greatest freedom is that which we give ourselves.