May 29th, 2010 | 8 Comments »

River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from

So deep, so wide, will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside

River, show me how to float
I feel like I’m sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet won’t touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around

Going away, away towards the sea
River deep, can you lift up and carry me
Oh roll on though the heartland
‘Til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high
‘Til the washing of the water make it all alright
Let your waters reach me like she reached me tonight

Letting go, it’s so hard
The way it’s hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
‘Cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide

River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away

(Peter Gabriel – Washing of the Water)

plentyoffish

I let him go.  Sent him back to the river.  I think he’s hurting.  I’m hurting.  But I didn’t know what else to do.  I don’t know how to balance life any more.  I don’t know up from down or left from right.  I don’t know how to blend lives.

I told him it was beautiful while it was beautiful, and that I’ll forever treasure that.  And I truly mean it.  I hope he knows that.

Maybe I will find myself again.

I want to.

I need to.

Tags:
Posted in love, me, sorrow
May 26th, 2010 | 2 Comments »

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I’m beginning to learn that if someone has an issue with something or somebody, it’s not really about that thing or that person, but it’s about them. In life, we truly have control over only one being, and that is our own self. We may try to influence others or mold or shape them into a version of what we think we want, but when it comes down to it, if that is what we are doing, we are missing the point that we need to look in the mirror and find out what it is within our own selves that is at issue.

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At first, it’s not an easy thing to look in the mirror. It’s so much easier to try to pin fault on someone or something else, than take responsibility for it yourself. That in itself is the first big swindle. Fault. Why does there have to be fault or blame? What is it about human nature that short-circuits truth and humility for judgment or pride? Judgment and pride assign fault or blame, and these things stem from fear.

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The human qualities I want to be known for and remembered by are love, truth, humility, honor, compassion, and integrity. I would like to be able to look in the mirror and see that reflection.

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What do I see?

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I see a struggle of human frailty. I see my actions fall short of my intentions. My intentions are pure. Truly. From the depth of my heart and soul. But walking the talk, now that is a different story. The words that I find to express my self are not always heard as intended, and the ability to choose the right words is an art that is yet to be mastered. So much vigilance is needed. So much care. There is such a responsibility with words. They carry so much.

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I see a person easily disarmed. Disarmed by judgment. Disarmed by pride.

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She needs to be so much more vigilant. See the forest and the trees. Evaluate all words, not just hers but those directed at her, for their source. Measure them against the standard of love, truth, humility, honor, compassion, and integrity. Do they hold up? From whence do they spring?

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With such a measure, she is armed, not disarmed. And after the measure, what should she do? Do her own words stem from love, truth, humility, honor, compassion and integrity? If not, she can change. She should change. If so, she should stand her ground.

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In all fairness to myself, I see strength as well.  Yes, a struggle of human frailty, but also some triumph of human strength.  I may shed tears at inopportune moments, or cry myself to sleep at times.  But I am strong.  Very strong.  Because I am wide open.  Open for love.  Which leaves me vulnerable.  Unprotected.  It takes a certain strength and courage to be so.  I embrace the love, and face the rest.

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What do I want?

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I want to understand and be understood, to love and be loved, to cherish and be cherished, to hear and be heard, to treasure and be treasured, to delight and be delighted in.

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Do I want this for or from one person or all people in my life sphere? Certainly, from me outward, I want this for all. To understand my people, to love my people, to cherish my people, to hear my people, to treasure my people, to delight in my people.

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And inward? Who do I want to understand me, love me, cherish me, hear me, treasure me, and delight in me? Well, everyone, of course.  Is that realistic?

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All I know is that I can do my part. My part is to love, try to understand, cherish, try to hear, treasure, and delight. I can do my part. It’s fundamental flow. Give and you shall receive. Do unto others as you’d have done unto you.

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Do I feel alone? Sometimes. But that means only that I’m not paying close enough attention, and not seeing the forest for the trees.

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Is there a difference between men and women? There are differences, yes, but I think these things are about the human heart and transcend gender. I think that if people get back to the basics of humility and love, then anything is possible.

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Posted in me
May 24th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

The way he says, “Mama?”, staccato with the emphasis on the last syllable, and a tone so sweet it can make my heart burst.

my sweet nature boy

my sweet nature boy

The way he says, “Mama”, long and drawn with the emphasis on the first syllable, and a tone so sweet it can make my heart burst.

tiger beat

tiger beat

The way he can entertain himself for hours with sticks and leaves and rocks.

ceaseless fascination

ceaseless fascination

The way he can entertain himself for hours with pots and containers and lids.

water child

water child

The way he’s so full of life that he can’t contain himself.

dancing to the beat of his own drummer

dancing to the beat of his own drummer

The way he so enjoys the moment, that departure therefrom is epic tragedy.

the prince holds court

the prince holds court

The pictures he draws for me.

poetry in motion

poetry in motion

The food he shares with me.

when you drink from a big boy cup

when you drink from a big boy cup

Motherhood.

It’s a love that aches, a love that makes your heart burst, a love that makes your soul sing.  A love that holds the hopes and dreams and cares and responsibilities of the lives you’ve been entrusted with.

les petites choses

les petites choses

To protect and nurture.  To impart knowledge, consideration, compassion, and respect.  To raise up well.  It’s no small thing, this job, and there are so many versions of how it should be done.

I am doing my best.

And my boys, though they have their moments, are good, good boys.

Posted in children, motherhood
May 2nd, 2010 | 2 Comments »

Sometimes I feel as though I’m spread too thin and I just don’t know how to hold it all together.

I want to be able to give my kids the kind of attention that they need without being manipulated by them.  I want to give them love and support, and I want to nurture them, but I also want to give them direction and I want them to learn to respect others and to be obedient.  I so want them to grow up to be good, upstanding people in this world.

I also want to be able to give due attention to my new found love, and to nurture this relationship so that it can grow and flourish.  I so want it to work.

And I’d also like to give myself some attention, in which I can somehow recharge my weary self so that I have something to even give to the people in my life.

I’m recognizing that when Skills is here, my boys behave badly; there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth.  Clearly, they are competing for attention, and choosing the path of least resistance, which has the most immediate attention-winning potential, albeit negative attention.  I have to be swift and immediate when administering correction.  Everything is disrupted, and in the end, nobody is happy.  It’s exhausting, especially to my gentle, harmony-seeking soul.

Today I had some time alone with BB, and it was nice.  He behaved well, for the most part.  We painted some of the living room while LB napped.

I love his drawings

I love his drawings

He was so worried about getting into trouble, he didn’t want to tell me if he spilled a drop of paint, or got some paint on his fingers.  Bless his precious little heart.  The boy is constantly in trouble for not listening or helping himself without asking or not sharing or complaining about what’s for dinner.  He loves to draw, and I’m thrilled to see his confidence and ability grow as he draws and draws and draws.  He’s got great imagination, and I try to let him know how much I like his drawings.  I save almost all of them.  Some day when he’s older I will show him, and he will know that even though he may remember me barking at him constantly, I was always loving and appreciating him.

the artist at work

the artist at work

He doesn’t know that I watch him when he draws.  I see him, intent on his work, and my heart swells with a mixture of emotions — some joy, some wistfulness, much love.  My little boy, alone, entertaining himself.  I need to be more interactive with him, somehow.  Somehow.

Later, BB was tired and LB was wide awake, so I brought LB downstairs with me, snuggled him next to me on the sofa under a soft blanket and we nibbled on crackers together.  He was so happy, there in my arms.  It was sweet to have some one-on-one time with him.  I got to fill up on toddler sweetness, as he’d raise his beautiful little face to look at me and giggle as we ‘talked’ about how yummy the crackers were.

It’s amazing how small moments as these can be so energizing and healing.  To share positive attention with my children, to hug them, tell them I love them, smile into their eyes –these things are so fulfilling.  And yet, somehow, moments like these seem so few and far between.

How I wish I could figure out how to balance it all, how to see and assess the moments and deflect or divert situations before they escalate or explode.  It’s like I’m a bomb squad of one, under constant pressure to figure out whether to cut the red wire or the blue wire.  Or maybe the white one.  Unless there’s a green one.  Or it could be the black one.  It’s exhausting.