I love visualizing Spirit as water.  The rich symbolism never fails to make apparent a new way Spirit flows in and through my life and the world around me.  If only I am aware.

Here of late, there’s been a little too much water for my taste.  A mysterious leak somewhere resulted in an extravagant water bill, creeping up at first then holding steady at outrageous for a couple of months till we had to call in the professional.  A couple of little holes spewing out 600 gallons a day, average.  Plumbers are not cheap and for good reason, but they’re not always covered by insurance.  Our loss.

Another mysterious appearance of water damage in our master bath.  Definitely mold.  Not definitely covered by insurance.  We’ll probably fix it with some elbow grease, removal of sheetrock and some Kilz.  Hopefully the water will not reappear, and the mold, too.

Then there’s the flash flooding at the Albert Pike rec area in the southwest part of the state.   I don’t know these people any more than I knew the victims in Haiti.  For some reason, though, the cries in the night leave a vivid impression.  Maybe it’s the water.  Maybe it’s the vulnerable image of people surrounded by the sheer force of nature, not just in water but by the trees and hills.  Maybe it’s because that could have been my family out having a good time just getting away.  Maybe it’s the reality of the fact that no one deserves that, to watch a child or family member swept away.  The reality is that this happens often.  Helplessness is part of our suffering, isn’t it?

A friend and I decided to pick back up a book that we put down for a while.  Thinking about the title, Finding Water, I said, “The last thing I want to do right now is find more water!”

So it seems to be that there’s too much water in my life right now.  I’m definitely not in the desert; I feel like I could be swept away.  The resources around me aren’t being used the most efficiently, and while there seems to be waste, there also seems to be not enough of the right things.  We’re not a family that usually has $1,000 extra laying around (though every family should be!).

I take it as a directive to find how the water flows in my life, where Spirit is moving, and how efficiently I’m channeling this flow.  There is much here, and when given obvious opportunities, I feel like I’m channeling well.  It’s the every-moment opportunities I’m likely to miss.  It’s the things that are harder to do that I feel resistant to — like putting a book together, making pottery, sewing clothes, etc.  We all have gifts that we don’t fully tap into for risk of . . . succeeding?  being held responsible?  fear of failure? (insert your own hold-up here)?

I pray that none of us get overwhelmed by an abundance of Spirit.  May we all be so blessed, and may we all be granted the wisdom of how best to participate in the creation of our world, channeling the flow so well that it appears effortless.   I won’t always understand why things happen the way they do.  I won’t always be able to get out of my selfhood.  But I trust that my faith will help keep me afloat or at least help pull me back to the surface.

In my last post, I mentioned mindfulness.  It’s a buzzword these days.  Just be mindful, and all will be well.  That would be like me saying to live every day simply.  In an unapologetically Buddhist way, mindfulness is that easy and that difficult, just as living life simply is.  Read that as you will.

Only you know what is most important in your life.  Only you know what requires your attention and most feeds your soul; they aren’t often the same thing, and we all know it changes on a daily, if not hourly basis.

But if, in a moment, you can be where you are, at once embracing it yet with open arms and feeling everything fully without being overwhelmed, then you can do what needs to be done with clarity.  You can make a conscious choice, knowing what is the best thing to do in that moment.  This is our best work, or our work at its best.  With this clarity and sense of purpose, there is a profound freedom to be experienced.  There is a sense of participating in the flow of life.

I am more than a little amused at all the self-help books out there, the variety of techniques that aim to bring us to a sense of peace.  Each of us could write our own book.  Those of us who write, indeed, write mostly for and to ourselves, for that’s all we truly know.  At the core of it all, though, is the one flow of life, one peace, one good, and that’s what ties us together.  That’s what, when we write, we hope to tap into, sharing a truth that might resonate for others.

Again, only you know what you need.  First you have to be conscious.  You have to be honest.  Then you keep practicing and keep working hard.  We work hard to be, just be, in peace.  This is good work.

(photo from everystockphoto.com)

I cannot express the comfort I feel sitting beside the fireplace at the end of day.  Whether it’s with a book, my knitting, or a cup of something warm, my heart melts, and I’m warm all over.  A dear friend told me that a fire is just like any relationship, especially marriage.  It needs tending, attention, and sometimes a little boost, prodding and adjustment.  I do think I’m pretty good at tending our home fires.  I continue to be happy we switched to wood-burning, and I love the twinkle in my family’s eyes when we gather around the fire.

Sometimes we need a little jump-start to get the flames going, though.  My dearest told me he heard about egg carton lint fire-starters.   We have cardboard egg cartons.  We have a constant supply of lint.  We have old candles and/or could get our hands on paraffin.  After visiting a clever site, I also realize we have a steady supply of pencil shavings, too (thanks to our electric pencil sharpener and some talented young artists).   If you need thorough instructions, this site can be helpful.  (Keep saving the t.p. rolls, too!)  HOWEVER, I also read that if you’re using these starters for indoors, small bits of wax paper are much lessy than using wax.  Perhaps we’ll start with those; it sounds easier, anway. 

May you be inspired and not left in the cold on those rainy days.  I’ll let you know how ours turns out!

Have you had that moment when you catch up with a grade-school or high school pal, one who truly knew you well, and after a brief catching-up they ask you if you’ve done any of that thing you truly love?  For me, the question is something like, “So have you been writing much lately?”  For you it might be, “So, do you still play (insert instrument here), sing, draw, sculpt, design, sew, etc., etc.?”

This thought came to me as I stood washing dishes late this morning, steam from the water warming the cool air around me.  I thought of all my friends I’ve become somewhat re-acquainted with via Facebook.  Of those that are working at jobs, I wondered how many of them are working in a line corresponding with their passions.  I wondered who might be working to pay the bills, and whether they were able to find time on the side to do that which they enjoy, that which brings them joy.

My hope is that all can bring joy to the work they do, work we all do, even if it might not feed us completely.  We do have a choice in what we do in our time off the clock.  I don’t use the words “free time” without using or motioning quotes anymore because I find that very few have free time.  When do you have time that isn’t occupied by something scheduled or something that needs to be done?  If you’re like me, you don’t.  I find myself in places, however, where I can choose what I do with the next few minutes or hours.

My other hope for us all is that we will choose to do something once a day, or at least once a week, that truly feeds us and ties us to that which brings us joy.  What simply thrills our inner child?  Paint a picture.  Play your favorite music (you may be surprised you still remember how).  Pick up your textile of choice.  Don’t let a blank page intimidate you; use your favorite pen.

I wish you warmth this holiday season, especially in your heart.  As you prepare to give to others, don’t forget to give to yourself.  It doesn’t have to cost a thing.  Take as much time as you need.  Enjoy.

I cannot remember the last time we truly took a holiday weekend, or, rather, that I took a holiday.  There is something seemingly appropriate about a mom taking Labor Day as an excuse to kick back.

Truthfully, it started Friday when my daughter and I played our pajama day card.  The fact that I’m reading the Twilight series might have something to do with that, too (future post to comment on that one).  I was supposed to have a meeting with my spiritual director, but a change of plans led to a cancellation.  During our brief phone conversation, I mentioned my p.j. day with novel in tow, and she said it sounded like I was pretty well-balanced.  Would I be her spiritual director? she asked me.  That resulted in a good laugh, but I was glad she approved of my unkemptness.    I did manage to get dressed, pick up kids from school, and make it that night to a delightful cookout at my cousin’s house with her family.  My day felt rich and full.

Saturday we slept in.  Then I went out and purchased a bike trailer.  I haven’t truly ridden my bike, even a bike, in almost eleven years (the age of my eldest daughter), if not longer.  But I felt a sense of determination.  This is something I was going to do, not only for myself but for the family as well.  Home from that, I left with my girls to meet a friend and her daughter to go on a bike ride along the trails in our city.  I hadn’t been on them before, even to walk, and I loved it — sore derriere aside.  I don’t know how many miles it was, but it was beautiful outside, overcast, the rain holding off for the late evening/early morning hours.  I truly felt the beginner’s mind on our trip, being very much in the moment.  You never forget how to ride a bike, but I got reacquainted with my gears.  I went on faith that the girls were okay behind me in the trailer.  At one point, they were sprayed with mud slung from my tire; a little while later they were almost asleep.  We got back an hour late, but we came home to a clean house, thanks to my dearest, and immediately submerged ourselves into a small dinner party.  The yummy dessert wine that concluded our feast was a testament to sweet enjoyment all around (I hope!).  I slept so well.

As if that weren’t enough to wrap up a most lovely weekend, we topped even that.

After church Sunday morning, we came home and prepared for another day outdoors.  We planned on rock climbing, but why not take the canoe on her maiden voyage (for our family, anyway).  My husband and I realized we can load the canoe on the van by ourselves (and get it off).  We also discovered what fun it is, even just on a lake, taking turns with the children.  But most fun for me was the time I got to take by myself.  Not only am I reading Twilight, but I am also premenstrual; truthfully, I could have been a recluse all weekend and have been just as content, though not nearly so healthy.  My dear girlfriends suggested I take my book out on the canoe and read in peace, not worrying about the children.  I wasn’t climbing anyway due, I supposed, to PMS lack of energy.  I took the canoe out.

“Where are you going, Mom?!” my 5-year-old shouted after me from the bank.

“I’m running away!” I shouted back with a laugh.  “Be back soon!”

I thought the “lake” seemed small, but it was enough to float in nicely in the late afternoon sun, reading a few more chapters.  The loudness of our children beckoned me back, their voices along with others along the wooded trail, reminding me of my responsibilities.  Come to find out, the lake is bigger; I just didn’t go around the bend.  There’s always next time.

Back home, we enjoyed yet another dinner together with our friends, finishing off the leftover soup, replenishing the sides.  Sleep found us quickly.

Labor Day, I did actually make myself do some work on the house that was showing signs of neglect, even after having been clean on Saturday.  Sunday night I even dreamed of mounds of laundry that were just a little to close to the real thing.  By the end of the day, the house looked and felt better, and I could settle in to read some more with good conscience.

The weather was beautiful all weekend, especially with the evening storms.  I appreciated feeling the muscles in my body.  I appreciated the rests I took.  I enjoyed the time spent away in books.

Mostly, though, I am grateful for the awareness, the time, the being, the relationships nurtured.  We should spend more weekends like this with even more of our family and friends.  Many thanks to all.

After a busy day, a fulfilling, worthwhile day, I truly love to get the kids to bed and kick back and relax.  Cue the DVD player, escape to another reality, and vicariously experience a range of emotions.  I consider it my down time, time when I don’t really have to think about anything.  I unplug from my life for a little bit, plugging instead into a different time and place.

Netflix has facilitated this down time for me, increasing my repetoire of movies viewed, some of which I wouldn’t have ever seen had it not been for their lovely search engines and categorizing.  I may not be able to watch their movies online (because I never got it to work), but I do have three movies at any given time to choose from.  This is helping me dwindle down our personal DVD collection, facilitating that clearing of “stuff” we don’t really need.  For that, I am grateful.

But then I began to feel like I needed to push movies through my que, like I needed to watch a movie a night to feel like I’m giving myself a break.  Truth be told, it is escapist, and not necessarily healthy in my opinion.  Occasionally, sure.  I love a good movie and always will.  I grew up loving John Hughes movies, watching them repeatedly.  Somehow other people’s lives, fictional Hollywood characters’ lives were and are more fascinating than mine.

So, I’m cancelling Netflix.  We’re getting rid of our big, old t.v.  It’s not a flat-screen or anything fancy, and it’s a family hand-me-down.  We’ll get the big entertainment cabinet out of the living room and re-use it for pottery or something.  Not to worry.  We have two computers and a laptop in the house.  We have video capabilities.  We have family with plenty of television/cable viewing opportunities.  We’ll just be encouraged to moderate the time in front of the screen.  Why not keep the t.v., movies, games, etc.?  Can’t you just moderate your time and keep the equipment?  We’ve been asked.

We have four kids.  We have hobbies.  We have precious few hours of time as a family.  And my “down time”?  If I seriously need down time, I need to unplug and stay unplugged.  Filling my mind with static doesn’t help anyone.  And there are books.  So many books I haven’t read; so many books I have yet to write.  There’s also good old-fashioned staring off into space.  I can just sit and look out the window, gaze at the stars or the trees.  In the silence, I can hear myself, allow myself to be still, and maybe, just maybe, realize how close God really is.  Why keep something around that we don’t even use?

My life is a far-cry from Hollywood, but each of us is given an amazing opportunity to find what is magical, what is truly Holy.  Two hours a day or night is a lot of  time to search for something, to discover something that has been there all along.  I would hate to miss it because I was too busy watching the screen.

Thanks, Netflix, for helping me discover what I knew was here all along — time to do everything that needs to be done.

It’s about that time.  The school supplies are purchased.  The laundry is clean.  Summer vacation is wrapped up in memories as early bedtime has resumed.   The kids are sleeping soundly, though I’m sure the anxiety for the first day of school (coming on Wednesday) is coursing through their veins.

I am quite certain I’m not the only mom feeling frazzled.   These last couple of weeks of vacation, I did put my best foot forward to give the kids some last hurrahs to go back to school with some stories.  (How many third grade boys jumped from a bluff into the river last week?)  But the concentrated effort has taken its toll, and my to-do list has grown so long that I dare not look at it all at once.  Talking with a friend, we realize how family-focused we’ve been.

As good as it is to put the family first, there are some of us who receive boosts of energy when we are tapped into a higher power, a greater source of creative energy.  How else would we be able to do all that we do?  I wondered why people thought I was a supermom, but now I’ve realized that I take for granted the strength, the seeming reserve of energy, that comes from doing what we are truly called to do.  When we tap into our “vein of gold,” we are energized to continue our good works, and this inevitably spills into other areas of our life.  When we focus on all of our practical responsibilities that come with daily life without tapping into this wellspring of creative energy, we quickly realize that it is quite impossible to do it all on our own.  At least, that’s how I feel, and after doing too much too long alone, we usually get physically struck down.  (Cue migraine.)

So, as routines change up again and we all find ourselves settling into new fall rhythms, I hope to keep the door to creative outlets open and pass through often enough to be invigorated with that Divine creative energy, bringing it into other areas of my life as well.  Lord knows the only limits are those I impose upon myself, and it’s fully within my means to get my life back in order, trying as ever to restore a sense of balance.

Is it mere coincidence that when I water the garden and plants with water from the rain barrel, it rains?  Yesterday we were blessed with a delightful summer storm . . . delightful if you don’t think too badly of the hail accompanying it.  When I think that my barrel will surely dry up, it gets refilled.

In our household, we’re in the last two weeks of summer vacation.  Tension is high, and add to that a full moon this weekend.  My best intentions for this summer, as ever, remain just that — intentions.  But I don’t think the children have been too deprived.  Their white bottoms and tanned appendages affirm plenty of time in the water.  There’s been a summer camp for the older kids and plenty of playdates for the younger ones.  A couple of hikes and plenty of late nights (and more movies than I care to admit, though I will admit to the drive-in!).  Now, however, it’s time to start transitioning to earlier bed times, morning risings and a tighter budget.

With so many expectations past and present, we need a good dose of assurance that our time has been and is well-spent.  The coming consistencies and seeming restraints are welcome, however hard they may seem.  It’s nice to know that when we least expect it yet when we need it most, we’ll be blessed with what we need and probably even more, as is usually the case.  And it never fails that when I think surely I can’t make it through another day with an ounce of sanity left, I get a respite and/or find the calm in the storm.  I must remember, too, that sometimes it is my responsibility to fill the well of  patience, to feed the creativity.  (Hence, the current knitting/felting project.)

May we all remember to keep our barrels full but not stagnant, to keep the stream of Light and Love ever-flowing through our lives.

There is a charm in planning out a week, having a shopping day, a wash day, cleaning day, etc.  Somehow, though, it seems like that system would just not work at all for my family.  Do many still have such a method?  How, I wonder, could it work for this family of six?

Then I realize, of course, that it depends upon simplicity.  When you have closets and drawers full of clothes, it takes more effort to keep them washed and put away.  With so much stuff, it takes more effort to keep it tidy and dusted.  With one person trying to keep up after herself and five others, the work becomes insurmountable.  I’d like to say I have a system, but my “system” barely keeps me afloat.  At least three loads of laundry per day.  At least one dishwasher full and some time for the hand-washable dishes.  Run-throughs at least twice a day to tidy.  A good day will see some sweeping and a quick vacuum.  (Did I mention a cat and a dog, too?)

But those are just daily chores.  What about the bouts of creativity?  Daughter would like a cover for her DS.  Sewing projects abound to be finished.  Christmas gifts?  Pottery bowls?  Twenty-four hours per day.

A couple of fellow moms lately have called me a super-mom.  Don’t be fooled, I warn them.  I may do much, but never all at the same time.

And today I have a home day . . . at least for the first half.  I have to balance what must be done with what I feel needs to be done to maintain that mysterious balance.  It does involve enlisting the help of minors in the cleaning department.

We can only do so much, but all must be done with a happy heart.