Realizing yesterday that I had hit a tender point in my own phyche, I decided to do a little exploration.

Why would I react with skepticism to an author and book that I have every reason to enjoy, when while reading Twilight, I actually got defensive for and even justified Stephanie Meyer?  (She followed through with a dream.  She gave it a shot.  She’s a mom finding time to write.  Etc.  Etc.)

Honestly, I haven’t decided yet exactly what my reaction means or says about me.  All I can say is that I’m enjoying Eat, Pray, Love now and am truly grateful to Elizabeth Gilbert for sharing her physical and spiritual journeys with us.  So many Westerners do not have exposure to other cultures, lifestyles, and ways of being.  At the very least, I’ve realized that I can count myself lucky.  (Honestly, how many 6-year-olds sit at a table where pesto is being served and say, “I smell pizza!” or decide that for quiet time they need to sit and meditate?)

All I can conclude is that I’m jealous, so rather than be jealous, I’m going to revel in the fact that a fellow dear heart has gotten to explore not only the globe but the depths of her being.  And she shared with others, perhaps hoping to broaden their horizons, their understanding, their very potentiality.

That may very well be where I feel defensive.  Am I living into my own potentiality?  Am I living up to all that I’ve been given to be?

Our shadows can be great teachers and an asset to our lives.  They are not meant to be solely suppressed and locked away, ignored.  They can be a strength as well as a weakness, like any aspect of our character.  Now, obviously, it’s time for me to evaluate my potential and do the work that I’ve been given to do.

No one said it was easy, this blessed life.

When surrounded by the fog of uncertainty, the popular thought is to take one step at a time or “one day at a time, sweet Jesus.”  Apparently, my personal reaction is to stick to routine above all things (one must have a tidy house when feeling suppressed with chaos) and alternate between bursts of energetically-getting-things-done and sit-and-read-a-book modes.  Combine this with deciding once and for all that I must go to work and must change my eating behaviors before I will buy another item of clothing, and my life is topsy-turvy.

But is it really?

After reading Mists of Avalon (why not fully escape for 800+ pages for a little respite with the Goddess?), I finally decided to read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Again, it’s a book that I was hesitant to read after it’s widespread popularity.  And, I have to read it with an open heart because sometimes it comes across to me with the voice of a whiney New-Yorker, accompanied by the world’s smallest violin.  I realize that it’s probably jealousy.  She’s my shadow, and it’s easier not to like what she got to do than to try to manifest some of her privileges in my life.  That, and I take most of my spiritual understanding and gifts for granted.

I am enjoying it, though, especially the Italy section that describes luscious foods in short detail.  I’m on week 3 of the South Beach diet, finally able to stave off the sugar cravings and 7 lbs. lighter.  Needless to day, penne and pastries and gelato aren’t on the menu for me these days.  Most of the foods she describes I’m not sure I’d be able to handle anyway.  (Octopus?  Intestines?  Really?)  Like most Americans reading this book, it’s a good vicarious journey, akin to my affection for Under the Tuscan Sun.  Fortunately for me, she’s leaving Italy (before I head downtown and raid Scarpino’s gelato stash) and heading to India.  Maybe this will stimulate my meditation practice.

While several of Gilbert’s revelations triggered thoughts for me for further reflection, her laywoman’s interpretation of Italy’s infatuation with food intrigued me.  You’ll have to read it yourself for her words, but let it suffice here to say that when you can’t control the rampant corruption and uncertainty of the powers that be or the world around you, you can rely on beauty — beautiful food, art, and music, to name a few — in this very moment.  That makes this day worth living, worth enjoying, worth savoring.

This might explain some things.  If Americans could direct our addictive tendencies toward expression through art, dance, music, creative and delicious foods, then maybe we would be a little less suppressed, obese (if we can practice moderation!), depressed, medicated, etc. Maybe.  It’s just a thought.

As for me, I’ll appreciate the beauty around me.  I’ll try to present our healthy meals a little better and to make the kids’ meals a little healthier, too.  I’ll work at making our garden more enjoyable — flower and vegetable, poison ivy be damned!  A tidy house is beautiful to me; maybe one day it will even be clean.  I’ll keep working on my body temple, as my inspirational card suggests, and I’ll respect the beauty within that radiates outward.  I have a beautiful husband, children, friends and family.  Soon, even our budget will look beautiful as the debt dwindles and things become a little less vicarious.  May I continue to do beautiful work with and for others.

With gratitude for all the beauty that surrounds me, I realize that no matter the circumstances, Love is certain.  For isn’t it the love and appreciation for all these things that radiates the beauty after all?

There are moments in conversation with dear ones when I know I don’t have the experience they have.  The only way to know how they feel, what they’ve been through, is to have been through a very similar situation.  (Losing one’s home does not equal losing your favorite CD.)

These days I’m looking at everything as gaining experience, diversifying my life skills.  I’m building my portfolio, so to speak.

But most importantly, I remind myself that there is so much I don’t know.  There are some experiences I hope never to have.

I give thanks for this luxurious life, knowing that my scale of luxury differs from others’.  With thanksgiving and appreciation, I go forth into the world.  All I can do is live this life with compassion.  That’s the only way I figure I can know God’s love, if such a thing can even be done.

If we can be completely honest with ourselves, we might find that living our dreams is only as far away as we let them be.  Whether it’s losing weight, starting your own business, being able to stay home with kids, publish a book, or remodel the house, I am beginning to believe the biggest stumbling block is our own self.  We throw the flags, put up the walls . . . we set the limits to our own potential.

Because isn’t it true that we all have incredible potential?  Isn’t it true that where there’s a will, there’s a way?

A fellow mother in the area lost 50 pounds in a year and five months, using determination, exercise and a modified diet.  She kissed being unhealthy goodbye and loves being ten sizes smaller.  She feels like she can fly.

My sister-in-law has jumped whole-heartedly into developing her own handmade clothing shop, Seraphim Baby.  Life throws us hard knocks sometimes, but we can choose whether we will do what it takes to survive.  Or, we can take a leap and do that which we love, bring our talents together, and see what happens.  I’m a strong believer in trying and having no regrets for giving it a shot, so long as we do our best.

For myself, I realize I’m not trying my best.  I have excuses, good ones, too.  I find that I have yet to put all my energy into one effort.  Even if my one effort includes many different tasks, I don’t feel like I’ve channeled my energy well, which might help explain the fatigue, restlessness, and going in circles.

Here’s to admitting the problem, one of the first steps in recovery, right?  Here’s to no excuses.

Here’s to jumping in with both feet.  And on these dog days of summer, that sounds pretty good.

I can hear my kids now:  “Cannonball!”

It used to be baseball and apple pie.  Today one might say it’s an iPhone (loaded with the coolest apps) and a flat screen t.v. with take-out.  But then it really depends on which cultural clique you belong to, doesn’t it?  A hipster and a gangsta won’t have the same ideals, will they?

But there’s more at play here.

It started out as a desire for something better.  A belief that anything would be better than the current state of persecution/poverty/suppression drove people to cut their losses and begin again.  A New World meant new hope.  Leave family.  Cut your losses.  Sever your roots.  Start over.  No attachments.

But if this new life doesn’t live up to one’s expectations, then maybe there’s something else because this life is too hard.  Maybe the West with its Gold will make life better.  Risk it all.  Do it or die trying.  If it looks untouched, it’s now mine.  Let’s lay tracks.  Mark it as our own.

Miracle of all miracles, some do “make it.”  Some live into their dreams and seem to have it all, from a new life, to gold, to apple pie . . . all the way to the flat screen t.v.  Yet, how many do we know who have the appearance and stuff and have peace of mind and spirit?  Do you think it was easy for them if they do “have it all”?

What happens to a plant once you sever its roots?  What happens when you take something that wasn’t yours to take?  What happens when we live our lives without regard to the consequences seven generations from now?

I struggle now with trying to understand how to balance our consumption/desire/pride/greed/fear with balance/peace/full emptiness/love.  Our amazing capacity to be connected with everyone everywhere provides opportunities unimaginable 500 years ago — even 200 years ago.  At the same time, we have capacity to destroy unimaginable numbers — not only people but ecosystems.

At the retreat I was at this past weekend, we were blessed with the presence of Joanna Seibert and Kate Moorehead.  (I highly recommend them both!)  During one of Kate’s sessions, she asked us to think of and then sketch the plant that represented our spiritual life.  I am drawn to trees, so I drew a tree.  Not just any tree.

We have a cherry tree in our backyard that has a massive root system.  From these roots other trees grow.  One of these trees we have let grow because the larger original tree will not live forever.  I used this image.

In my picture  I had a “God” tree with many roots.  Like the cherry tree, a smaller tree grew from one of the roots.  This smaller tree is me.  I have my own roots now and put forth my own branches, but there is a source from which I’ve come.  Even if that source isn’t always visible or tangible, it’s alive within me.  My roots are the gifts I receive from the source and that which feed me.  My branches are the gifts I share by being myself; the fruits I bear are the gifts I give outwardly to others.

What would it be like if the American Dreams became dreams of wholeness?  What if they weren’t based upon escape from reality, indulgence in richness, attaining that which only a few will attain?

Every one of us has a source.  Every one of us has gifts, whether they are from our innocence or our wounds or both.  But we have to care for ourselves and for those around us.  Love your neighbor as yourself. What more do we need to do?  We need to choose.  We need to choose to share that last crumb of apple pie with someone else.  We need to let the visiting team’s fan have the seat beside us.  We need to care for our land, keeping in mind of the consequences generations from now, like the back of the Seventh Generation label says (and I read when doing the dishes).

Fortunately, our roots with God are not solely tangible, and though we might cut them to seek a better way (because, of course, we know what we need/want most), the Love of God remains intact.  We are entitled.  We are entitled to Love, end therein lies a richness everyone can attain.

My American Dream?   Love and Peace.  Now, I have a capitalistic wish-list that I think would be good for my family and me and that I could probably compare to yours.  I’ll trust, though, that I have what I need to do the best I can to manifest love and peace here and now.  Thanks be to God!

In philosophy classes in college, I remember much discussion about free will.  I remember how difficult it was for me to work with the soft clay of my spirituality/religion/philosophy of the time; at once there was form but no form, convictions but infinite potentiality.  There were times when I wondered why these philosophers made such a big deal about it anyway.  (Obviously philosophy wasn’t my major.)

My faith and beliefs aren’t so much clay anymore but a beautiful tree that grows even from the clay of the earth.  The belief that we have choice and free will is one of those branches.  Having children, especially older ones, and following my life path, I see this in every moment, day in and day out.

My older son chooses what he does in the morning.  He’s the early riser, but often he’s the last to walk out the door.  Our youngest is choosing whether or not to tell the truth these days.  Our oldest is choosing to speak with kind words or anger.  We can watch the wheels moving in the mind of our six-year-old as he chooses to do what he wants to do or what he knows he should do.

While we do make choices in every moment, not all of them seemingly life-altering, there are those times when we deliberate and discern.  We try our best to look down the road to see what future that choice will hold for us.

In a discussion with my husband, I told him I almost felt I didn’t have a choice regarding what may very well be my life’s work.  He helped me much when he said he was sorry that my God didn’t give me a choice.  An awakening in my awareness occurred.  Of course I have a choice.  God has granted us free will.  It’s my choice.  But I can’t think of many times in this life when I have chosen to do anything because it was easier.  This life to me isn’t about just barely getting by.  I have a responsibility to learn and grow and evolve and mature, not only for my own benefit.  I don’t believe one can embody positive change without affecting others, too.  Ultimately, I have made a choice to choose the road that pushes my limits until they break open a new understanding.

I cannot force this perspective on others, let alone my kids.  I may very well have a child or two or four who are content to be here now and enjoy the moment simply for the sake of being blissfully present and unaware of greater suffering.  This is hard for me to imagine, but it’s possible.

As ever, I have a choice whether to be personally entangled in the lives of my children and others, or I can choose to love unconditionally.  To live compassion.  It sounds stronger than “to live compassionately.”  Oh, that we all could and would choose compassion in every moment.

We always have a choice.  The lesson continues.

My days don’t always include a to-do list that looks like I’m trying to overtake a small country.  Often I don’t even have a list or an awareness of what all I’m doing until I have to inform others of my whereabouts or share how my day has been.

But sometimes what I do requires the help of a small army.  Balancing this last Mother’s Day’s events, partnered with a doula client’s birth, was one such day.

So while I may not be overthrowing a government, I might be trying to spread a little love and light.  I might be trying to help others feel the love I feel.  I realize I cannot do this alone, nor should I.

I am grateful for all those who brighten my days.  I give thanks for my children and husband who grant me the privilege of being a mom.  I am oh-so-grateful for those who share their love and light not only with me but with all those around them.  So many blessings.  I am oh-so-lucky.

Just had to say that.

My husband’s birthday brought several meal-gatherings amongst our family and friends.  As our youngest said, “It’s your birthday again?!”

Much love and attention went to my dearest these past few days, and needless to say, the house and yard are looking great.  I am reminded time and again how important it is to take care of ourselves to best care for others.  It might seem like we’re just being annoying, but if something is at the top of our personal priority list, let it be done!  It will help get the other stuff done more quickly and with much less mumbling and complaining.  I’ll try to take that lesson to my next interaction with the kids.  (wish me luck!)

Hubby told his mother that he’s been “bringing the awesome” all the years of his life (which aren’t quite as many as mine).  A friend over dinner last night said that our birthdays are like personal new year’s; you can wish for yourself an abundance of blessings in this, the next year of your life.

Oh, that we could lavish attention and patience toward each other like every day were our birthday, that we felt self-confident enough to live every moment like we were “bringing the awesome” with love and joy.  Indeed, our home is richly blessed with awesomeness. 

“Every day is a gift from God.  That’s why it’s called the Present.”

Right now, our youngest describes things according to her preference.  For example, she says, “Chickies my fav’rite,” and “Worms not my fav’rite.”  (“Fav’rite,” of course, is her way of saying favorite; she just drops the “o” sound.  I wish I had a sound clip because it is absolutely adorable and otherwise completely enunciated.)

In her toddler world right now, she is the sun, and everything else revolves around her.  If you’re not her fav’rite, then you might as well be on the dark side of the moon.  She has a look for you if she thinks that way, and those of you who know her know what I’m talking about. 

In my world right now, I have many favorites shining forth.  Quality time with family and friends, sunshine, gardening.  I don’t get to spend nearly enough time in these arenas, but I love them dearly.  I also love the results of spring cleaning and even the time spent doing so, if I can tap into the right frame of mind.  The skies before a storm.  Watching the chickens find what I cannot see in the dirt.  Listening to others speak their Wisdom.  Feeling that which cannot be seen in another’s suffering.  Watching the miracle of birth unfold in more ways than one.  Learning.  Growing.  Loving.

What may seem like the dark side of the moon in my world is really just like night time or lying fallow in the earth.  The love I feel for everything these days, the compassion I find in oh-so-many places and faces — expected and unexpected, the suffering I know about or stumble upon, all this combines and swirls in the One.  Truly this is a Mystery, but I trust it.  I trust that all things rise and fall in my awareness.  What needs to be done will be done.  What needs to be known will be known.  I hope that I’m where I need to be when I need to be there.

Maybe my busy life is more simple than I realize.  With the right frame of mind and a solid, grounded presence, there’s an altered time, if even time at all.  We can experience life moment by moment, and that is definitely one of my fav’rites.

(photos of some fav’rite moments: Ashton reading, Alexander making artful eggs, Avery & Dino (his chicken), and Autumn making cookies)

I once heard it’s good feng shui to have your fridge full of food.  My grandpa always kept his car full of gas.  My grandma always had a pantry full of canned goods and a freezer so full of food you could barely shut it, let alone fit another bag of frozen anything in there.  My mother-in-law usually has at least two of everything, mainly so she can share with the family — thanks to the good deals she finds.

There’s a good fortune there that can easily be taken for granted.  Their ways of being and doing things rely upon being able to sustain them.  They have the resources to do so.  I didn’t realize how fortunate I was as a kid.  I knew others relied on school lunch programs.  I knew there were homeless kids and adults, that even if they had a make-shift home, it didn’t necessarily mean they had electricity or running water.

I also realize the predicament my parents were in, a stereotypical struggle of middle class America.  Keep up with the Joneses.  Make things look well and good, even if the budget is a train wreck.  Pay the medical and dental bills out of pocket; what other choice do you have?  Buy now, pay later . . . if you can.  Don’t let the kids know how hard it is.

Now my husband and I find ourselves living between these two ways of living, and I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t an opportunity to find a resolve so that our kids won’t have to struggle with the same issues.  I feel like my grandparents, who lived through the depression, wanted to make sure they never ran out, that there’s always plenty.  They also felt very strongly about paying for things with cash; buy only what you can afford.  I feel like my parents, who reached adulthood in the 70s, lived fully in the 80s mentality: get what you need (a.k.a. want), taking time to pay it back.  It provided a kind of feast or famine way of life.

Our opportunity, again, is to find what is best of each generation, and I think that relies on us being able to clearly know what is enough.

I heard that it’s best to use the full tank of gas before filling up again.  I know from experience that I feel like I’m not wasting as much money on gas when the tank if full.  (Doesn’t it seem like the top half of the tank lasts longer?)  I know that food does not last forever, even in a freezer.  It’s best to cycle through and actually use it and replace it regularly.  Some staples do last longer when frozen, so saving room for bulk flour, oats, rice and such is smart.  I appreciate credit, too, but unless it can be managed wisely and paid off quickly, it’s best to pay with cash.  Do not live outside your means.  I’m still learning this simple lesson that can be so hard to live.

I also take the opportunity to tell my kids why we don’t eat out so often, why the fridge might not be full of fresh produce, why I cannot and will not pay full price for new clothes and such (unless absolutely necessary).  I don’t tell them to make them feel guilty or ashamed; I want them to know and understand.  I also try to make sure they share in my gratitude for what is shared with us, what is given to us. As a parent, you have to know how hard this can be.

Slowly, we are learning what is enough.  Though it may feel like we’re cutting it close on having enough food and supplies, we do have enough.  We realize how little we actually need to feel sustained and thriving.  Appreciation goes a long way.  A positive attitude does make a difference.  Our time isn’t spent moping about thinking about what we lack or miss.  We have to set a standard for ourselves.  Society’s expectations and norms have proven skewed and unbeneficial.

We have the opportunity to find where the value lies in our family.  We determine what is enough for us, really and truly.  If we need to buy in bulk out of necessity to save $10 and make sure we don’t run out of toilet paper or peanut butter (you have to have your priorities!), so be it.  I have a feeling other lessons and opportunities will follow regarding learning to live sustainably.  Our awareness continues to broaden.

I am so grateful for our abundance.