Slurping Life

Lose the Inhibitions

Watching as this diverse group of women stood by waiting to go onstage and perform a belly dance, my thoughts were...

How brave and self-assured these women are...mothers, sisters, daughters, women...preparing to go onstage before hundreds of people for a belly dancing performance. 

I felt it...what they have...and I want it...

...that umph go for it spirit...that this is for me do not care what anyone else thinks spirit.

Yeah, that's it. 

It is within me...within you.

Let's go for our dreams. Lose the inhibitions. Drop the excuses.

We have what it takes to achieve our dreams...be our best

Yes, we do.

Can I get a comment high five?

Away

Tonight I saw him.

I held him for an hour as he sobbed in my embrace.

Fourteen.

He should be happy with family and friends.

Fourteen.

Laughter should fill his life.

Fourteen.

Vicarious mischief should surround him.

Fourteen.

Not the barren walls of 

a behavioral crisis intervention center

enduring

withdrawal from years of drug therapy

in order to find the real person.

Fourteen.

Fetal alcohol syndrome,

bipolar disorder

and 

none of it his doing.

Fourteen.

I want my son in my home

in my arms.

Yet

despite the unconsolable ache in my heart,

I know it is not best that he be home

now.

Fourteen.

He cried in my arms

like the baby I remember

as we rocked 

and

said our

words of

I love you.

Fourteen.

God, he is only a boy.

Hold him.

Give him peace

and

the comfort of

knowing

how much we love him.

But damn it, God,

why him?

Good. It will be good.

I believe.

Retro Soul

Days no longer meander at the oh it's never going to be [insert whatever day or event you couldn't wait for as a child] pace. Instead the sun sets and I can hardly believe another day has escaped. Left me longing for a do-over...a chance to create more sweet memories...to hug just a little longer.

I want one more glance into the yesterday eyes of my children because those eyes have today changed forever.

And I cannot shake this. The happy-go-lucky free spirit that was me has hidden away from myself. I miss her terribly. I miss her with a passion that aches. 

I see the retro soul of my son, Mac.  The guy who loves peace signs, The Beatles, VW vans and everything '60s. The guy who lives with umph and passion. The guy who has dreams and spirit. The guy who has fun being himself with no forethought let alone concern as to what anyone else thinks of it all.

I hear his infectious laughter.

Once, it was me.

I want her back.

I saw a glimpse of her today. The fun shoes, clothes and frolicking that really happened daily in my life. Really, I did those things. I wore those shoes. I was creative and spirited.

Tonight I cried for the lost me.

Somewhere between the boys' therapy sessions, the homeschool, the unimaginable stresses, the dirty laundry, the being a wife, the cooking-cleaning, the occasional night's sleep, the Special Olympics games this weekend and a zillion other responsibilities, I know she lives.

And 1.5 quarts of Breyer's Waffle Cone Overload won't bring her back.

Then I left on a journey to bring me home.

I know someone reading feels the same.

Trust your soul.

Pay attention.

Go on a journey.

And wear fun shoes along the way.

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Along the Bumpy Road

 

We should not feel embarrassed by our difficulties, only by our failure to grow anything beautiful from them.    ~~Alain de Botton

So keeping that in mind I'm beginning again...walking the bumpy but beautiful road of life with its twists and turns.  Still, it is not possible to forget the stones that trip one along the walk nor the unknowns around each bend waiting to steal life breath or breathe new vitality into the depth of being...the choice of which is ours.

Still, remembering the fantasia of light beckoning across the threshold of life to death...and the resplendent voice of love which gently whispered "I love you, mom" and halted my steps.

I'm once again planting, cultivating, nurturing...growing something beautiful along the bumpy road, and it is an amazing joy to have you join me.

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This Very Moment, Kneeling Beside You

In Memory of

MARY

the wife of

HUGH NESBITT

who departed this life the

8th day of December

A.D. 1802

in the 25th year of her age

Also

of James Wilson Nesbitt

their son

who died the 7th day of January

A.D. 1803

Aged 7 weeks & 21 days

She gave birth to a baby.  She died.  Her baby died.  Life continued without them.

She and I never walked this earth together.  And yet, I cannot stop thinking, wondering...

Was there jubilation and happy tears at the birth?  Was this young family full of hopes and dreams at that very moment?  Was the death of mother and child imminent or unexpected?  How did he, the husband, the father, bear the loss of his twenty-five year old bride and their baby?  How did he live out his life?

Thank you, Mary.

I imagine other women kneeling beside you on a crisp autumn morning, shedding a tear for you, thanking you for the blessed renewal of clinging to...living in...cherishing of...this very moment of life.

This very moment is the perfect teacher, and, lucky for us, it's with us wherever we are.

~~Pema Chodron

~~May your this very moment always be cherished. Promise yourself that it will be. And I would love to hear that you do promise...simply say, I promise.