I am gliding on great joy this week. After the heavy crash of Dec 14th 2012 the pendulum has swung to deepest gratitude and happiness.
This week has been filled, no, overflowing with awesome. Last night a gathering of women turned into a laugh riot of epic ridiculousness, collaboration and talk of future old-fashioned slumber parties (think light as a feather stiff as a board, nail polish and frozen bras). Tonight, bucket loads of kids tore up my home with the most divine pleasure I have ever seen. And this morning a dear friend's baby was born.
The apocalypse of destruction didn't come today. Rather the opposite. Harmony in it's grandest sense.
I cannot imagine a life more wonderful than these moments. I am grateful to be living them.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Saturday, December 15, 2012
trust
This has been in my draft folder since the spring.
I was alone, dwelling in my struggles, wondering if I was doing 'it' right. If the path I had bushwhacked for my travels was, indeed the path that would be my ultimate joy. Were these pains and sadness of dis-ease or were they the cuts and scrapes of focus and creation? I lay there with sobs and questions. In a ball of sniffles and snot, flickers then flames of love heated my insides (wha-ho that is chee-zee). This love burned stronger at the prospect of being extinguished at the possibility of disbelief.
There, gazing at the sky was my moment. That moment of enlightenment yogis have. That your wacky friend waxes on about that they found in some hot spring. OK, so it may not have been enlightenment. Maybe a higher power, the universe, or the voices in my head. Between sobs and questions, loss and confusion, I heard it. Trust. I heard it over and over. Trust. Trust love. Trust all is well. Trust the love for myself and the love from others. Trust.
I have since tried to think of all the synonyms for this word, trust. I have said it 10 times fast. I write it on scraps of paper like young girls doodle hearts and bubble letters on there notebooks during Spanish class. Confidence. Certainty. Truth. Faith. Believe. Know. Trust.
Trust is my solid ground. It is gentle and kind, strong and powerful. It is the constant on my uncharted journey.
Is life uncertain? I'm not sure anymore. I know that my struggles are beauty in disguise. I love my life. It is simply beautiful. I am delightfully happy. I'm going with it!
I was alone, dwelling in my struggles, wondering if I was doing 'it' right. If the path I had bushwhacked for my travels was, indeed the path that would be my ultimate joy. Were these pains and sadness of dis-ease or were they the cuts and scrapes of focus and creation? I lay there with sobs and questions. In a ball of sniffles and snot, flickers then flames of love heated my insides (wha-ho that is chee-zee). This love burned stronger at the prospect of being extinguished at the possibility of disbelief.
There, gazing at the sky was my moment. That moment of enlightenment yogis have. That your wacky friend waxes on about that they found in some hot spring. OK, so it may not have been enlightenment. Maybe a higher power, the universe, or the voices in my head. Between sobs and questions, loss and confusion, I heard it. Trust. I heard it over and over. Trust. Trust love. Trust all is well. Trust the love for myself and the love from others. Trust.
I have since tried to think of all the synonyms for this word, trust. I have said it 10 times fast. I write it on scraps of paper like young girls doodle hearts and bubble letters on there notebooks during Spanish class. Confidence. Certainty. Truth. Faith. Believe. Know. Trust.
Trust is my solid ground. It is gentle and kind, strong and powerful. It is the constant on my uncharted journey.
Is life uncertain? I'm not sure anymore. I know that my struggles are beauty in disguise. I love my life. It is simply beautiful. I am delightfully happy. I'm going with it!
Friday, December 14, 2012
love
My heart is broken for the parents who sent their babies to school expecting their dear young ones to come skipping home in the afternoon. I hug my children and cry. I refresh my Facebook. Our day goes on. The house still needs tidying, the dishes should get done, we haven't begun to decorate for Christmas, and I have a board meeting and class to attend. I refresh my Facebook. Our day goes on. I am frustrated the girls won't pick up the Tinkertoys without my assistance. I am frustrated the youngest won't eat her lunch, the lunch filled with protein to keep her happy until dinner. I am frustrated with the eye rolling that just won't quit. I refresh my Facebook. Our day goes on. I kiss my children as I leave the house. I tell them 'I love you, I love you so much' again and again. Our day goes on. I can't imagine that being the last hug I share with my dear, sweet, eye rolling, clever, beautiful, kind girls. I cry. My day goes on. I cry. My heart breaks, I well up, I cry. I continue to cry. But my day goes on. I come home and kiss my sleeping babes. I count my blessings.
I am thankful I can tuck my girls in at night.
I cry. And my night goes on......
Monday, December 10, 2012
Dusty McDusterfield
My house is a mess. There is construction dust in every corner. The bathtub has no walls, but the toilets flush and the taps run water. It is a great month in our home. There are as many piles of clothes, toys, crafts, gifts, and papers as there are bits of plaster dust on our floors. When it's time to eat we shove a pile or move to an area of floor that is momentarily vacant of treasure. It's messy, cluttered, and hectic. It's heaven. Work is getting done.
Everyday my dad comes to spackel, nail, build, install, and paint. Clark spends his days running wires and installing outlets and switches. We are at our best, most joyful selves when we choose to work and leave our housework 'til another day.
Everyday my dad comes to spackel, nail, build, install, and paint. Clark spends his days running wires and installing outlets and switches. We are at our best, most joyful selves when we choose to work and leave our housework 'til another day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)