On Politics

It's September of an election year and for several months now we have been caught up in the media circus of presidential hopefuls. My facebook feed, my news sources, my radio are drowning in political ads and commentary and a firestorm from all sides. Obviously this coverage is not bothersome when it supports my own political leanings, but it is outright maddening seeing some of these headlines and claims from the opposition. I frankly can not fathom how people can support Donald Trump (stick with me), and how Trump even won the Republican ticket with all of his demeaning, egotistic, prejudice rhetoric. A man famous for inheriting wealth and privilege, for a beauty pageant, for a reality show. I can't help but associate him with the likes of the Kardashians - famous for being famous. But here's the thing--I understand there ARE plenty who support him and plenty who can not fathom how I could support Hillary Clinton. The problem lately is that instead of accepting and respecting opposing politics, we are attacking the person. We are angry and frustrated and acting like jerks.
Anyone who has ever tried meditating knows we can never stop our mind from thinking. What do you do when a thought arises? You label it as a thought and let it go. I wonder, can we learn to use this method in our debate over politics? Can we learn to separate the human being from their political thoughts by realizing their ideas are just that, and not a measure of their worth or likability? Can we learn to not shake our heads in disgust when we see a vehicle displaying bumper stickers for a politician we don't support? Can we stop using the First Amendment as an excuse for vitriol speech meant to attack those who disagree? We send our kids to schools and tell them to get along, to be kind and respectful to all, to learn to work as a team. Yet we allow our Congress and Senate to thwart compromise, to be stalwarts against working with those who disagree.
My son Fisher and I started reading a book together this week -- Paulo Coehlo's The Alchemist. I was struck right away by the prologue, which tells "the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty." So fascinated with himself, one day he fell into the lake and drowned. The lake transformed from being fresh water to a lake of salty tears. The goddesses of the forest asked the lake why it wept, to which the lake replied it wept for Narcissus, though not because the lake had seen his beauty, but because "each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." We are a big, diverse, multi-faceted country, yet somewhere along the way we have become like Narcissus and that salty lake--unwilling to get over ourselves and accept and understand others. For our kids' sake, I hope our political side will one day reflect the values we try to instill in them, instead of this "he said, she said" cycle where no one wants to work together and nothing really gets done. I challenge you to extend some kindness to those with an opposing view. Give a thumbs up to that lady with a Trump t-shirt, or that guy with a Clinton tattoo. Lets be well. We can do better, I really believe that.

It's the end of an era!

School started last Thursday for the kids, which marked the end of my time as a stay-at-home mom (a time that has been the most meaningful of my life). I got a call from the nurse halfway through the first day and had to pick up Fisher as he was running a high fever. That meant he missed the second day too. Phoenix fared better but she was so tired she lay like a puddle on the floor that first eve. And now I am tasked with figuring out what is next for me--thankfully I have an incredible husband who thinks I should spend a little time meditating and just caring for myself before I rush into anything. I believe something will come, and I am using this time to clear my mind and grow. I wrote up a little poetic musing inspired by that first day of school...

It is the first day of kindergarten and no one but a mother

knows what I mean by this. That little human you claimed now claims

a space in the first of many a fluorescent-lit hallway,

shuffling amongst the shuffled, chipping away at

what will define her in time. Did I show her enough

fine vistas, did I engage the presence of trees, of heart,

to remind her what matters, to sustain what is wild in her? 

Keep her grounded?

There is no going back.

As for my heart, it expands in distance – the way one trusts the view

of mountains and accepts what lies beyond.

When I returned home from the school this morning

and stood at the window in the clock-ticking quiet

to gather what I mean now, a mother deer

and her fawn stood there too, rooting out tender leaves

as if they’d been waiting all summer to appear right there before me.

Nothing in life has hurt me enough to not believe there is a kind of magic

at work. And sure enough every time I looked out the window they were there

moving gently and softly on the lawn, guiding me through the hurt

with gentleness and grace. Go easy on yourself, they say, and walk with grace.

Spring Footing

I have had insomnia of late. Last night I took to the deck so I could bathe in the full moonlight and try to tire my eyes reading accounts of the late great Prince and scratching some words down. The problem is my mind is a flurry--so many roots spilling forth in all directions that I don't feel rooted, lest I forget to do something needing doing. I wonder if we carry the seasons in our ribs. We must. Outside, spring is greening and quickening. All manner of blooms and bugs and birds alighting. I swear our asparagus crop shoots up 10 inches overnight. Our woods have gone wild again with poison ivy and ticks, little stirrings with every step through the ground cover as I search for morels so that it keeps me on edge as for the source. We had tulips slipping open but deer already made a home for them in their bellies. It's no wonder I can't sleep with all of this flourishing. No wonder I can't focus and quiet my mind when it too is a kind of spring. Another month and the flurry will slow and steady, shoots will harden into stems and branches. Our schedules will clear for a moment, I'll sleep. It happens again and again doesn't it--things seem hectic and overnight you catch a break until it starts all over again. It is a beautiful, wild thing--our living. As if the universe knows how much we can take and when to let up. I guess it takes a kind of grace to balance these seasons--a kind of faith to know things will root eventually. It matters not the strength of our footing. You could be holding onto a twig or a branch. It matters only that we are holding on.

Traffic

The bridge I drive across every day to take the kids to school is under construction until October. Which means I have to take the long, busy, stop-light laden way, which means leaving earlier and dealing with more cars that cut you off because everyone is in a hurry to get someplace. Which means we no longer get to pass by the two horses we usually see and remark on. Which means the way home takes twice as long. Today on the trek home--after a day of running errands and taking Phoenix to the doctor and sitting there for 2 hours for x-rays and waiting for her to be able to provide a urine sample with no time for lunch and a splitting headache--sitting through several light changes just to move a few feet, I had had enough. I guffawed and groaned and cursed the road. And then Fisher started in and both of us were lamenting 'come on, let's go already' at long lights and a sea of cars as if we were on an LA freeway during rush hour, as if our words would change things. Here he had spent the last 7 hours at school only to be let out to my frustration, only to make it bloom in him. Parents have the opportunity to teach their kids how to handle things by way of example and clearly my example was not something to mimic. And I thought about how this was to be our reality for the next 8 months so I either spend every day for 8 months annoyed by traffic or resign myself to our current fate and deal gracefully. In that moment I felt as if I became liquid as the frustration slid away and I embraced what was--just to be where I was in a car with my son I hadn't seen all day. "You know, Fisher," I said, "I don't want to spend every day getting mad at this road. At least we are together, so lets make the best of it." I asked him to come up with a way we could pass the time better. Hopefully I redeemed myself for my earlier negative outburst and showed him a better way to deal. It's not worth the energy it takes to complain and often our complaints do not and can not change a thing. Yes, the issue of traffic is rather small in the grand scheme, but the method of adapting gracefully is not at all.

2015 Holiday Letter

Fisher has his heart set on being Santa Claus when he grows up. I sometimes catch him sticking his head up the chimney to see how he's going to fit. 1st grade and he carries that magic. I tell him I believe he is already Santa, as he is giving and kind. He does well in school and his teachers love him. I sometimes worry that his tender heart will get tossed around by the rambunctious show-offs in his class and his kindness will get abused, but it helps that the girls all dote on him and that he has a good sense of humor. He loves to ride his bike and chop wood and build and treasure hunt. He is forever constructing and creating. The other day Phoenix came up to me and said Fisher told her he didn't care if he got any presents for Christmas, that he just wanted to be with his family and it made her eyes tear up. These kids are going to be fine.

When Phoenix isn't mimicking her big sister Ella's every move, she's singing, dancing, playing dolls, biking, making art, destroying the house, and making plans to take over the world. She has the kind of fire in her to do just that. Her teachers tell me she's the only preschooler in her class that understands sarcasm. She's tough. She's smart. She's watching your every move, which is appropriate as she wants to write stories when she grows up.

Ella has truly embraced her role as big sister after years of wanting a family to sit at the dinner table with, and to bond. For better or worse, she has it now! She too excels in school and has taken up speech and robotics this year. Most days she's traipsing about the woods with her headphones on singing at the sky. She still loves studying languages and I now know lots of random French, Swedish, and German words for various fruits. She went on a school trip to Europe this summer and now her heart is set on Ireland.

As for Matt and I, we are trying to pretend that planning a wedding is easy and hoping it'll all come together on its own as neither of us are good planners. It's set for July 16. I believe things are as easy or as complicated as you make them, so that's my plan--easy. Matt is still kicking it in sales for Learfguard and his hard work brought him the title of highest sales for the year again. When he isn't solving people's problems, he is on the riding lawn mower. Seriously, mowing until the sky spills its black ink. It's his new way of meditating. That and learning to play the banjo, or tinkering with the garden, or felling trees or creating a to-do list that'll take him years to accomplish. Big dreams to go with that big heart.

Me? Today I figured out how to use a ripsaw for the first time. Last week I sanded and stained all the interior doors. Before that I was probably painting or hauling or constructing something. I've discovered my own form of meditation. I started writing a children's book series, took on another scoring project for Pearson education, and was honored to be asked to help with editing and selecting works for my friend's new literary magazine, The Wax Paper, all the while running the household. I wouldn't trade it for anything. It is busy and hectic and messy (3 kids, 7 chickens and a dog will do that), but it is ours and we have each other--this family we have made. Our spirits are good.

My mother claimed recently how I have changed, how I seem more loving with her and my dad, not that I never showed love before. It's just different she says. I knew the answer to that straight off because I feel the change deep in my marrow--I have softened. This love that Matt and I share, these 3 intelligent and kind kids--it has given me a new measure for what my heart can do. It has redefined me. Frankly it has been at times a rocky year, but I have learned these things: your truth only matters to you and the people you hold dear. I learned how to forgive and let go. I've realized how lucky I am to have been raised by respectful and accepting parents. They have embraced Matt and Ella and our family wholeheartedly and continue to be a source of great support. I am lucky. And soft. And thankful. May all of you feel thankful and enjoy a peaceful holiday season. May you know your worth.

Let's Agree to Disagree

Matt and I went to Wooly's the night before Thanksgiving to see the Grateful Dead tribute band, the Schwag. Every time I have gone to see a concert there I am struck by the diverse age of the crowd. We span 5 decades, with hair styles that range from dread locks to slick backs to bald. Such different appearances, yet all of us gathered in the glow of stage lights and the guitar riffs of one of the most talented musicians I have seen. Up front and center on the floor was a group of super hippie hipsters in their 40's grooving and hollering "yeah, man" and trying to draw attention to themselves in a way to show how unique they were--not unlike goth kids who dress to be misunderstood so they can be treated with misunderstanding. Not unlike suburbanites and yuppies who accumulate lots of flash and think everyone wants what they have. Not unlike Republicans who think they know better, or Democrats who think their way is true. Not unlike religious extremists or gang members or PETA or the NRA. The list goes on, encompassing all sides.

Watching this group of aging hippies who never wanted to grow up I realized this--their energy was no different than the groups of people they would define as the enemies to their way of life. What all of these people (me and you included) have in common is the belief that they are right, and perhaps societies build these outward illusions that exclude others just to feed the idea that they are right. Matt used to have long hair and would be invited to attend shindigs by other people with long hair and dreads, The day he cut his hair they stopped calling. This exclusionary mentality only serves to feed the notion of us versus them, only serves to polarize humanity, thereby sabotaging their ability to ever truly connect and be understood.

And maybe we are all just a bunch of goth teenagers dressing in all back to fulfill the prophecy that we are misunderstood. Because it is easier to be a victim than to truly find solutions and compromise and let go of the ego so we can just get along. If you can't get beyond the notion that you are right and they are wrong than you will go nowhere. It only perpetuates the polarization and the outward display of this disconnect that sadly unfolds in headlines every day with mass shootings and terrorizing and debate. All at the expense of our HUMANITY. 

Someone reminded me this week of the phrase "agree to disagree." It stopped me in my tracks with its simplicity and timelessness. It made my heart feel unburdened, that I could finally move forward and not be stuck in a phase of trying to be right about something, which I have often been guilty of doing. We are all set in our ways--no one is immune. I realized I had been clutching to my ego and my sense of truth. But we all have a different sense of truth. If we don't surrender to that notion then we go nowhere. What matters more than being right is connecting. What matters most is peace. To say let's agree to disagree doesn't diminish your own truth, but it does get rid of the roadblock to real peace and understanding. Understanding that we are all a lot more similar than our words and ideologies suggest, which is at the core - human beings - all seeking a way, all searching for love and kinship. All of us seeking acceptance. Ghandi said "be the change you wish to see in the world" so maybe if we all love and accept ourselves the world will finally be a mirror for peace.

On the Path

I remember driving home to my old house--the first house I lived in when I moved to Des Moines a few years back. It was near the bike trail on a beautiful owl-filled oak-lined street. The houses were well kept, the neighbors were friendly, deer and fox would often be milling about. And yet despite the beauty something in my knew it was not where I was supposed to be, as every time I would feel blanketed by the sense: is this my life? Is this what I am going to be doing for the next 50 years--driving this road? At the time I didn't know what that meant. Here I am on this quaint street yet I felt a cloud of unease. I chalked it up to not wanting to feel stuck (I had traveled a lot and never lived anywhere for long), or not being ready to join the ranks of that kind of adulthood. Looking back now I realize that feeling was my guiding spirit telling me it wasn't the right path, that my life was due for a shake up. And so it did.

Sometimes that feeling of unease is the result of delving into the unknown--challenging yourself to follow your dreams without knowing the outcome. But it doesn't just come from facing fears, it comes from an intuitive spirit that knows the course we need to take. It means not that we are restless, but that we are due for a change, that this path isn't meant for us and we need to be open and fearlessly walk through those future doorways when they come. It is saying be ready. 2 years ago I met the love of my life. Just over a year ago we moved to this home on 2 acres on the edge of the city--a distance I never imagined I would choose as I never wanted to be near the suburbs. And now driving home on this windy, tree hemmed road with pockets of deer and raccoons and groundhogs, I finally know what it feels like to be home. No longer questioning--is this my life? The only thing I feel is awe and gratitude. This is where I am supposed to be.