Good day to be a robin. Bad day to be a worm.
Running in the cool rain is just about as good as running gets, at least for me. It makes me feel like I could go forever. The fact that today really feels like spring is simply icing on the cake.
Without my iPod, I was able to let my senses take in everything around me. The rolling hills have taken on a distinct green hue, and I could hear spring 'peepers' calling from the culverts near the roadside. Some of the cornfields resembled rice paddies after yesterday's torrential rains, and along their borders I was cheered to see the first vestiges of day lilies and tulips, spring onions and dandelions. Black birds cheered me on with their distinctive crackle-squeak. The smell of the earth waking up flooded me with joy and gratitude.
I am aware that there are many weeks to go before the leaves will appear on the trees, and it's likely that we'll have another snow before all is said and done, but today - running outside - was a gift. Happy, happy, happy.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A waterfall of thoughts
The driving rain and gusty wind will keep me off the road today, and I know that is lame, and I am trying to be OK with it. Secretly I just wanted to do weights anyway.
I am better at taking puzzles apart than putting them back together. Or at seeing what the picture actually is once the puzzle is complete. The pieces by themselves make perfect sense to me, and are beautiful. But I am aware there is a challenge I forgo, and a reward I never deserve.
I continue to feel like I am swept along in a current of time, carried by the actions of others, and only subtly steered by my own. Conversely, I worry that I have clamped down my life, with every minute controlled and molded to my exact comfort. This comfort is limiting and disappointing and not at all ambitious.
One of my greatest fears is that I am utterly unremarkable. Sometimes I see a magic me in other peoples' eyes, and feel that mirage is created by what I can offer - humor, therapy, love. Logic and words have been my only saving grace, but they have not been enough to save me. Not yet, anyway.
These words, for now, are holding me still as I watch the sheets of rain pass by my window. I will let them go and see what happens today. One more sip of tepid coffee, a nibble of a powdered sugar doughnut, and then I'll step back in the river. See you downstream.
I am better at taking puzzles apart than putting them back together. Or at seeing what the picture actually is once the puzzle is complete. The pieces by themselves make perfect sense to me, and are beautiful. But I am aware there is a challenge I forgo, and a reward I never deserve.
I continue to feel like I am swept along in a current of time, carried by the actions of others, and only subtly steered by my own. Conversely, I worry that I have clamped down my life, with every minute controlled and molded to my exact comfort. This comfort is limiting and disappointing and not at all ambitious.
One of my greatest fears is that I am utterly unremarkable. Sometimes I see a magic me in other peoples' eyes, and feel that mirage is created by what I can offer - humor, therapy, love. Logic and words have been my only saving grace, but they have not been enough to save me. Not yet, anyway.
These words, for now, are holding me still as I watch the sheets of rain pass by my window. I will let them go and see what happens today. One more sip of tepid coffee, a nibble of a powdered sugar doughnut, and then I'll step back in the river. See you downstream.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Status
Feeling anxious and a little edgy this morning. My normal inclination would be to look forward to my run, and to get busy. God knows I have a lot to do today.
I could address some of my angst head-on, but like Thursday night margaritas, I don't think that will be a good idea today. So I am left with calm observation and breathing. Not a bad option, but still unnatural for me (see my profile description). Once JBL goes to work, I'll try some real zazen practice. Here goes nothing...
Updated: Literally, nothing. I fell back on my old wicked ways - cleaned the SHIT out of my house all day, then ran, then lost myself in family time. But in the end I was found.
I could address some of my angst head-on, but like Thursday night margaritas, I don't think that will be a good idea today. So I am left with calm observation and breathing. Not a bad option, but still unnatural for me (see my profile description). Once JBL goes to work, I'll try some real zazen practice. Here goes nothing...
Updated: Literally, nothing. I fell back on my old wicked ways - cleaned the SHIT out of my house all day, then ran, then lost myself in family time. But in the end I was found.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Big J, little J
I wish I had a picture of J to place here - a picture of her as she walked away from me this morning. As she headed toward the bus I could see her pride of independence vibrating in every fiber of her little being. I say 'little', but that's not entirely accurate any longer.
Her pride stems from the accomplishment of making me give her my last hug of the morning as she gets out of the car. You know, as opposed to after I have walked her down the hill and across the street, right before letting her climb the stairs onto the bus. How embarrassing! It has taken her until the week before St. Patty's Day to practically mold me into one of those mothers who wave distantly without getting out of the car. Maybe her goal of world domination by summer vacation can be reached after all. Don't let the bunny fool you.
But this is the girl who sings along with me at bedtime, substituting her pet name for me (Moomer [don't ask why - I have no idea]) for all the words of all our songs. And every time I empty her daily folder, piles of little drawings dedicated to me fall out. There I am in a polka-dotted dress holding a cup of coffee. (Strangely, there is also a duck at my side.) There is a heart-shaped scrap of paper that says, "I [heart] Mom". There is an elaborate card with drawings of rainbows, suns, and the ubiquitous peace symbol, and it reads, "To Mommy, Love Juliet."
Her handwriting, however, is no longer shaky. It is practiced and confident. She tells me stories of events at school with adult insights.
"Kalani was being fussy about me sitting next to her, and wouldn't stop talking about it. I got very mad, because I tried to make her stop but she wouldn't listen. But then, Laney - being the nice girl that she is - said, 'Let's change the subject.' And Kalani and I were happy after that!" (Read that with lots of hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. No, I have no idea where she gets it.)
She uses phrases like, "By the way," in context and with the right intonation, but will follow it up with, "By the way, I like saying 'by the way'!" And then will fall over laughing.
She still needs me at her side before approaching a group of friends, feeling insecure that she won't be welcomed. Once welcomed, though, she wants nothing to do with me. I can't smile or wave or even wiggle my eyebrows in her general direction. The nerve.
She brushes her own teeth morning and night, and takes showers instead of baths, but still wants me to put her lavender lotion on.
Yes, this is all spot-on developmentally, and I am sorry to be such a sentimental sap, but holy schnockers. I mean, no one told me that the everyday smiles and looks and songs would crawl into my heart and hug it in much the same ways as the monumental milestones of parenthood. No one warned me that a sparkly-eyed little girl would bring me to my knees with happiness even as she walks away from me. I really could not have prepared myself anyway. These are the kinds of surprises I can live with...
Her pride stems from the accomplishment of making me give her my last hug of the morning as she gets out of the car. You know, as opposed to after I have walked her down the hill and across the street, right before letting her climb the stairs onto the bus. How embarrassing! It has taken her until the week before St. Patty's Day to practically mold me into one of those mothers who wave distantly without getting out of the car. Maybe her goal of world domination by summer vacation can be reached after all. Don't let the bunny fool you.
But this is the girl who sings along with me at bedtime, substituting her pet name for me (Moomer [don't ask why - I have no idea]) for all the words of all our songs. And every time I empty her daily folder, piles of little drawings dedicated to me fall out. There I am in a polka-dotted dress holding a cup of coffee. (Strangely, there is also a duck at my side.) There is a heart-shaped scrap of paper that says, "I [heart] Mom". There is an elaborate card with drawings of rainbows, suns, and the ubiquitous peace symbol, and it reads, "To Mommy, Love Juliet."
Her handwriting, however, is no longer shaky. It is practiced and confident. She tells me stories of events at school with adult insights.
"Kalani was being fussy about me sitting next to her, and wouldn't stop talking about it. I got very mad, because I tried to make her stop but she wouldn't listen. But then, Laney - being the nice girl that she is - said, 'Let's change the subject.' And Kalani and I were happy after that!" (Read that with lots of hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. No, I have no idea where she gets it.)
She uses phrases like, "By the way," in context and with the right intonation, but will follow it up with, "By the way, I like saying 'by the way'!" And then will fall over laughing.
She still needs me at her side before approaching a group of friends, feeling insecure that she won't be welcomed. Once welcomed, though, she wants nothing to do with me. I can't smile or wave or even wiggle my eyebrows in her general direction. The nerve.
She brushes her own teeth morning and night, and takes showers instead of baths, but still wants me to put her lavender lotion on.
Yes, this is all spot-on developmentally, and I am sorry to be such a sentimental sap, but holy schnockers. I mean, no one told me that the everyday smiles and looks and songs would crawl into my heart and hug it in much the same ways as the monumental milestones of parenthood. No one warned me that a sparkly-eyed little girl would bring me to my knees with happiness even as she walks away from me. I really could not have prepared myself anyway. These are the kinds of surprises I can live with...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Right now
Right this second someone is giving birth. Someone just lost their first tooth. Right now someone realized their role as parent has changed. And someone realized they need to change the way they parent.
Right now someone is riding a bike without training wheels and falling. Right now someone is refusing to get on a bike because they are afraid of failing.
Right now someone is falling in love for the first time. Right now someone is realizing their lover is about to die. And right now someone's lover has hit them for the first time.
Right now someone is consciously choosing to ignore their messy kitchen. Right now someone is planning to work late because they feel like they have to. Again.
Just now someone realized their face is covered with subtle but deepening wrinkles. Someone just found out they have cancer. Someone just became afraid of flying, and driving at night.
So you say life is not about what happens every second, it's about what you do with what happens. Don't you hate cliches? I hate them too, and pat answers. What do I do with it all?
Right now someone is riding a bike without training wheels and falling. Right now someone is refusing to get on a bike because they are afraid of failing.
Right now someone is falling in love for the first time. Right now someone is realizing their lover is about to die. And right now someone's lover has hit them for the first time.
Right now someone is consciously choosing to ignore their messy kitchen. Right now someone is planning to work late because they feel like they have to. Again.
Just now someone realized their face is covered with subtle but deepening wrinkles. Someone just found out they have cancer. Someone just became afraid of flying, and driving at night.
So you say life is not about what happens every second, it's about what you do with what happens. Don't you hate cliches? I hate them too, and pat answers. What do I do with it all?
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