Climbing Trees
The following conversation is between me, the adult, and my inner child Jannie. I began writing a conversation with my right hand, and my left hand wrote the answer. Although this is not the starting point of our conversation, it seems right to post it first.
ME: I have been listening to a meditation on inner peace, and the voice says to let go of fear and embrace self-trust and self-confidence. Will you be able to trust me and let go of the fear you have been carrying for so long?
JANNIE: There was a time when I played freely and didn’t have fear. My friend Susan and I would climb the tallest of trees in City Park and yell hi to people as they walked by. Sitting in the branches, surrounded by the protection of leaves, I would look up to the sky and watch the clouds take shape across the deep blue, and the world was full of possibilities. When did I stop dreaming? Somewhere along the way, I lost my confidence and my ability to shout from the tops of trees. I became afraid. Since you have been better at taking care of yourself ( us) I am beginning to trust you more. But I am concerned about what will happen when you are fully recuperated and you get back to a normal work schedule. What will happen to me then? Do I become the quiet, forgotten being? Are you really going to take care of me?
ME: I don’t want to let you down again Jannie. You are too valuable and precious to me. I was really angry when I fell and broke my wrist because it didn’t allow me to write what I thought was the most important story at the time. But over the past month, as I have begun to listen to you and your wisdom, I am gaining more trust in you too. There have been times in the past where your actions would anger me- like when you feel like you need to be in control over a situation. I understand that is how you feel safe- when you are in control. But I think we need to learn to work together- use my adult knowledge and your creativity and fun to create our future together. We can make the world a safe place. I can promise you that I will do my best to keep you safe, knowing full well that the biggest threat to you is no longer an outside force but it is me-getting too busy and neglecting you. I don’t want that to happen so how can we work together?
JANNIE: I hope you continue to let me speak through a pen. If you keep giving me the ability to communicate, I think I can learn to trust again. It feels good to be heard. I want to be heard, because just thinking about endless possibilities makes me want to climb trees again. It may take awhile, but I like the little steps we are taking together.
Filed under: Growing Up, The Present Moment
The Power of Your Other Hand
“In teaching hundreds of people to write with both hands, I’ve observed over and over that writing done with the other hand often expresses the disowned and oppressed parts of the self. With profound simplicity the other hand speaks for the powerless, weak, subordinate aspect of the personality… It is easier to express feelings by writing with the other hand. For that reason, it is an excellent therapeutic technique. Scribbling out rage, fear, frustrations, sadness, helplessness, and vulnerability can bring immeasurable relief, both physically and emotionally. It is a wonderful way to reduce stress caused by the buildup of emotions. It’s a safe method for letting off steam without hurting anyone or anything. It is a playful way to dump emotions without attacking others or the environment.” The Power of Your Other Hand, by Lucia Capacchione,PHD
Oh, the things we take for granted: Our ability to use our wrists and fingers without fatigue. As I am healing from wrist surgery, I realize how I need to allow my body to rest after a little computer work. I am rebuilding my strength, but it will take time. So I am learning to write left handed to take a little load off my right wrist. I love this journey I am taking because it is getting me in touch with my inner child, and I am learning how out of balance my life has become. I have been so stuck in the doing world, that I have neglected myself, especially the creative side of myself. Getting back in touch with my inner voice is beginning to make my body feel a little more centered. Using Lucia’s book as a reference, I am making my way through exercises designed to give voice to that part of me that has so long gone without being heard. Trauma in my childhood caused me to lose my inner voice, and my ability to speak up for my needs. Through years of journaling, counseling, and body work, and am working toward a more complete and balanced me. Jannie, my inner child, has agreed to teach me what I have long forgotten: Life is too short to be too serious, you have to play sometimes, and when we walk hand in hand with those we love, life is grand! I will be sharing my journey with Jannie, and letting you in on the secrets she reveals. I don’t think it will be earth shattering, and it won’t be anything you haven’t heard before. But this will be in Jannie’s voice, and that is all that matters.
Filed under: Growing Up, The Present Moment
The January Journey
The beginning of 2010 did not start off as I had planned. On the 6th of January, I fell on black ice and broke my wrist so badly that I had to have a plate put in to stabilize the bone. This was after almost two full weeks of pain and swelling and a not so nice doctor who bent my wrist without any warning and put it in a cast that made me look like I was doing the “Walk like an Egyptian” dance. The worst part about all of this was that I broke the wrist of my dominant hand. That really didn’t match up well with my goal of writing two hours a day.
So what have I done to make it through this month? Count my blessings! My fall could have been worse, I could have broken an ankle or fingers at the same time. I could have been far away from my house by myself, but I was only 25 yards from home walking with my husband and daughter, who took great care of me. My daughters have risen to the occasion and have helped with cooking, cleaning, and even washing and styling my hair. I have a great network of friends who have brought meals for my family. I have also watched my share of HGTV and What Not to Wear. Now that I am finally mending and have more movement in my fingers, it is time to start writing.
The interesting twist is that I am not going to delve into the book I was planning to work on. This month brought a new idea and clarity about what my path is. I am working on a book by writing with my non-dominant hand, and seeing what comes of it. I know that part of my lesson is that it is important to receive love, which I have been doing. It is also important to love me when I am just being, and not doing. This takes a little more work, and that I believe is February’s journey. Learning to love and honor me and the wisdom of the inner child will be my path. I hope you will share in it.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Happy Anniversary!
My husband and I have been married 24 years today. What a wild ride it has been. It seems so long ago that we were starving college students living in Minnesota. Then we became parents for the first time in Iowa. We came home to Colorado to be closer to grandparents. We are now in the process of raising and launching three teenage daughters. I wouldn’t trade my life, even with all its up and downs. We have survived job changes and moves, a very lengthy illness, a congenital heart defect with a daughter, years of dance performances and endless soccer games, the sending off of our oldest to college in Minnesota, and now we are in the process of helping our middle daughter find her way into the college world. Yet even in the middle of all of the activities surrounding our children, we have found the time to connect in some way each day, to talk about us. We don’t just talk about the schedule, or what the latest drama is with the girls, but somehow, we get to talk about our lives as a couple. What do you still dream about? What was your day like today? What did you learn? Where did you see God?
And I believe it is these moments of connection and joy that get us through the dark times, the in between times, and they are what make our lives today extraordinary.
My husband asked for a poem book for Christmas called “Odes to Common Things,” by Pablo Neruda. So I am giving it to him today on our anniversary with an ode of my own. I hope you enjoy it too. If anyone knows how to leave the spaces in between stanzas, I would love to know how to do that. This poem reads so much better with the breaks.
Ode to Tony
Filed under: The Present Moment
Happy St. Lucy Day
It is early morning on the 13th of December, and one by one, the votive candles are lit throughout the house. A special breakfast of bacon and homemade scones grace the table and the smell of coffee fills the air. St. Lucy’s Day is a holiday celebrated more in Europe, where usually the oldest daughter wears a wreath of candles in her hair or carries a candle through the house and welcomes all to the breakfast table. It is often called “The Festival of Lights” so we use this day to light our Christmas tree.
Because it is so dark and early on this Sunday morning, my husband and I light the candles and prepare the table, letting the girls sleep a couple of extra minutes. Tony will be leaving for work soon, so we want to celebrate this day together,
“Oh Come oh Come Emmanuel” echoes through our halls as we wake up the girls. We process down the stairs and light the Christmas tree for the first time this season.
Eating our breakfast together in the glow of the tree, we talk about what areas of our life need more light, and wonder how we can bring light to the darkness in the world.
How can I be light to others in this new year? I will grow my online presence, reaching out to more people with my written words of reflection, hope and awareness. If I can help just one person become more aware of how the Divine is constantly working in our lives, then I have been successful. I am also helping people find a strategy to exit this recession and start making an income stream separate from a normal job. I am committed to learning online strategies to reach out to those who are looking for a change.
Mostly though, I am working on myself, cleaning out the dark areas of my heart where anger, resentment and jealousy reside, and bringing them to the light. I know that in order to affect the world around me, I have to be willing to work on me first. I create space in my own heart so the love of Jesus can shine through me, and I can help bring more light to those who live in darkness.
As I look around my breakfast table, and see the glow of lights reflected in the faces of my family, I am grateful for the light that already shines in our lives. And I am grateful for the peace and joy that comes with believing that we are all meant to bring the light of love to our world.
Filed under: The Present Moment
We Can’t Go Back in Time
Mary Oliver, in her book Thirst, captures an image that stays with me, and reminds me that every moment has the potential to be life changing, and we cannot get those moments back once they have passed. How often have we moved through time unaware, and only in the looking back over our day do we see how Grace left her mark in a chance meeting, in a split decision that could have ended differently, in a moment that had we been looking, we would have been knocked over by the power of Grace breezing through our lives, filling us with joy. We rush from place to place with a list in our heads, clouding out any visions we have of peace and calm. In her poem, Mary captures an early morning chance visit, and then reminds us to be present because no matter how hard we try, we can never go back to that place in time.
The Place I Want to Get Back To
is where
in the pinewoods
in the moments between
the darkness
and first light
two deer
came walking down the hill
and when they saw me
they said to each other, okay,
this one is okay,
let’s see who she is
and why she is sitting
on the ground, like that,
so quiet, as if
asleep, or in a dream,
but, anyway, harmless;
and so they come
on their slender legs
and gazed upon me
not unlike the way
I go out to the dunes and look
and look and look
into the faces of the flowers;
and then one of them leaned forward
and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
bring me that could exceed
that brief moment?
For twenty years
I have gone every day to the same woods,
not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
Such gifts, bestowed,
can’t be repeated.
If you want to talk about this
come to visit. I live in the house
near the corner, which I have named
Gratitude.
~ Mary Oliver ~
THIRST
Filed under: The Present Moment, Uncategorized
I write…
I write….
I write from the old rust colored chair in the corner of my bedroom by the window, where I can watch the sun move over the tops of houses and trees and the where the steam rises from my tea cup like morning prayers.
I write in a leather bound journal that houses a new notebook each time I scribble final words on the last page.
I write on my computer with thoughts flowing faster than my fingers can type, but I like the sound of my fingertips softly tapping the keys, changing single letters into words that create an artistic design, flowing easily from one idea to the next, eventually creating art to share.
I write from my heart the stories that have touched me as I travel on my journey; the people, the places, the sounds and experiences that shape my world. I write about love and friendship, family, illness, heartbreak, women and the man I love, children and laughter and anything that pokes and tugs at my heart and reminds me that I am alive.
I write from past experiences; from poems about childhood friends, to teenage crushes to finding the young girl who was lost in childhood moments of darkness. I write about love, children, and finding God in ordinary moments. I write about a debilitating illness that nearly took my life, and the journey to discover me again.
I write in the present time, about breathing and sitting on the beach letting go of all that does not serve me. I write about the sun coming through the window and the thoughts that dance around in my head. When I write, I am present in my body, and all of me moves in rhythm as the words form on the page.
I write in moments of joy, when words leap out of me, bursting forth in color like the show of fall leaves, in red and orange and gold, in a glorious display that shouts “Life is good.”
I write when tears of sadness fall from my face and run with the ink, blotting out my words, as if that would erase the pain. My pen carries the song of melancholy across the page, leaving a heart rendering piece that even years later still has the ability to bring the familiar wetness and sting to my eyes.
I write in moments of pain, when the screaming shows up in my hand wrapped tightly around a pen, intensely scratching out words across the page in dark deep indentations. It is impossible to write small when angered passion rushes out in bold large letters that don’t fit neatly on the lines.
I write in moments of reflection, looking back on an experience and seeing how much I have grown, or not. I write about who I was, who I long to become, and who I am in the present moment. I write from my center, allowing God’s voice to take form in my own words, reminding me of my own divine likeness and energy.
I write about life, all the light and the dark, the good and the bad, the sad and the happy. I am the words on the page, the object I write about and the experience that changes me. In the moment of writing, I am connected to all through a stream of consciousness that feeds my soul. The very act of writing gives me life.
Filed under: The Present Moment
Little Girl Giggles
My oldest daughter is working on a Barbie project in her sophomore year of college. She has to make Barbie more realistic. In an effort to help her, I went looking for old doll clothes that might fit a re-sized Barbie. When I opened boxes and baskets of doll clothes, voices of little girls filled the air and surrounded me with their joy and laughter. My three daughters spent countless days playing house and dressing up dolls for tea parties. Many a time I was a guest in the restaurant with the doll Lizzie and her friends as my companions. Some of the doll clothes are actually clothes that my own girls wore: a green bathing suit with bows of red and yellow and blue, and a pumpkin outfit, complete with a hat to make a happy jack-o-lantern on Halloween.
Where did the time go? Wasn’t it just yesterday, when I held all three in my arms as we read books on the couch? Weren’t we just dancing all together in the living room? And didn’t my husband and I chuckle over the wisdom the girls found in the moments of each day, that without a child’s perspective, would have escaped our notice? I can see their little faces, each with a distinct personality, highlighted I am sure by the current version of themselves.
The house is quiet during the day now, with kids at school and then extracurricular activities. Gone are the days when following three girls around the house seemed like a daunting task, but oh, how good it was.
Now they are off in a hundred directions, growing up into beautiful young women. And as much as I miss their little girl giggles, I love watching them become powerful strong women who have the courage to stand up for themselves, and make their own mark on the world.
So after my search, I put away the doll clothes, and soak in the last echoes of children playing. Their laughter finds its way to my heart, where I can pull it out on a rainy day when I need some joy. There will come a day in the future, when hopefully grandchildren will delight in the treasures of dollhouses and doll clothes and baby baskets galore. Until then, I rejoice in the voices of young women, sharing their days, and their laughter. And I allow myself to be amazed at the wisdom that comes from the old souls of these young women, who continue to help me see the goodness that is all around me, that now is a moment of joy, if I only stop to notice.
Filed under: The Present Moment
Cleaning the Bookshelves…Cleaning my Soul
It seems hard to believe that as much as I love books, and enjoy having them throughout my house, my husband loves them more than me. This can be difficult at times, because there is rarely a book that is deemed unworthy of sitting on our bookshelves. I can pick out twenty in a heartbeat, and when my husband sees the pile I plan on taking to the used book store, half of them always end up back in our library, where some shelves are now two deep with novels and non-fiction books that are must reads, and poetry books whose words are balm for a busy life. I definitely wouldn’t win any decorating awards for spacious shelves with lots of knick knacks and a few token books that are just for looks.
With the start of the school year, we are working to find room on the shelves by the desk to put school books, and even my work notebooks. This morning, while my husband was gone, I pulled books off of shelves, dusted and organized them, and was able to come up with five bags of books to either take back to those people I borrowed them from, give away as gifts or sneak to the second hand book store. I made sure I didn’t take any of my husband’s books, just ones that I have outgrown and am willing to share with others.
As I sit down to write at the clean desk next to shelves that now have space to breathe, I rejoice that in the process of lightening the load in my life. My heart feels happy, knowing that I will now see friends that have been absent for awhile, their books marking pages in my life, reminding me of the joy we’ve shared.
The shelves, free of dust and neatly organized, help me see the dust that covers my own heart where I have held grudges, pain and fear. I consciously run the duster through the corners and move out those feelings that no longer serve me. Returning books to the rightful owners encourages me to let go of those hindering energies that are not mine, but I have been carrying just the same.
A pressed oak leaf falls out of a book as it is returned to the shelf. It is a reminder of a joyous time in my life when my husband and I were first married. My heart smiles, my soul sings, and my life is new again. The action of cleaning my house this morning has created space for me to think, breathe and be in touch with my heart and all its mysteries.
Not that I want to do this again next week, but it has been a wonderful way for me to dust the corners in my life.
Filed under: The Present Moment