Everyday Simple

The Haitian earthquake happened January 12th.  I heard about it first in an e-mail from my priest to the congregation.  I finally made the conscious decision to look at photos on-line on Monday, the 18th.  The night before, over an impromptu dinner with friends, one of them told me, “Don’t look.  You’ll be buying a plane ticket or something.  [The pictures] are awful.”  I agreed that I’d probably want to go over there and re-lactate or something so that I could nurse an orphaned baby.

But I looked at the photos, mainly from The Big Picture, whose photo posts are always view-worthy though not always pleasant.  The photos are honest, raw, and exquisite in their clarity.  The Haitian photos are no exception.  Looking at the photographs, how can we not be connected to the devastation?  Smell the dirt, smoke, blood and decay?  Hear the screams of pain and wails of grief?  Taste the dust in our dry mouths.  Feel the tremor of our own body at the fear of the aftershock in the earth and in our own memory.  As hope begins to fade for finding survivors, is hope being kindled quickly enough for a better tomorrow, for rebuilding an even better future?  In a country so populated with poverty, how can I know anything about what that hope might look like?

As the 69-year-old woman who prayed for the week she was trapped, all many of us can do is pray, too.  In a way we are trapped in our sheltered lives.  As richly blessed as we are, we are bound by our attachments, often committed to too much, unable to be moved when it may most be needed.  So we also pray for our own freedom and the gift of understanding that which is beyond our comprehension.

So I send a prayer of peace to the people of Haiti, that amidst this chaos they might find a reservoir of deep peace to carry them through.  To the rescue crews, I pray for strength in body, mind and spirit.  Thank you for doing the work that not all of us can do, and we send you our strength of spirit to back you.  To those in authority of Haiti and those discerning how to allocate funds and goods, may you be pure of heart and keep those in need as your first priority.  For that which I cannot understand, I pray that all will be well.

I was trying to sit and help my eldest study for the upcoming spelling bee. Everything has felt like an effort these past couple of days, and add to that the fact that it’s after eight and in the bedtime hour. My second oldest tells us he still has homework to do, and his chores still aren’t done. Everyone seems to be a whir of activity.

The child who is supposed to be washing his lunch dishes comes running through the living room to the piano, but the water is still running in the kitchen sink.

“What are you doing?!” I practically yell at him. Maybe he’s just letting the water get hot, I try to rationalize to myself.

“I’m doing two things at once because you are all telling me to do everything,” he replies, exasperated at best, still moving, straightening up his piano things.

Alas, I feel I’ve not done a good job this day. My nine-year-old feels the need to multi-task. God bless him, the boy is as slow as Christmas and has a hard time focusing on doing one task, let alone three or more.  Often, I have to write a list out just so he knows what he needs to do, and even that can mean a day-long commitment.

Why do we have so much to do? I wonder. So much laundry. So many dishes. So much house to clean (and we’re not in an extremely large house by any means for a family of 6). So much work to be done.

I remind myself that these are the ropes. Sometimes you swing high. Sometimes you swing low. It helps keep things in perspective because as soon as I think this, I remember how grateful I am that we have all we do. We are richly blessed.

We have to be careful, though, of how much of our time we spend in the absent-minded state of doing, doing, doing. Am I showing my kids how I do motherhood, or am I showing them how to be a mother?  Am I teaching them that the only way they will get anything accomplished is if they run themselves into the ground 24/7, or am I showing them that it really is about one’s quality of being that is of utmost importance.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what I’ve said if I haven’t lived it.  I would have rather heard my son tell me he’s done his best this day to do what he can.  I would rather have seen a sleepy, contented smile on his face than the tired, sad eyes that were giving up on his homework.

When the tooth fairy visits tonight, I hope she brings another friend with a magic wand to wave over us all renewal, confidence and peace.  We’ll start again fresh in the morning light.

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)

It may not make sense to you, but it does to me.

The day’s light gone, the fireplace warm and inviting, all the notions of productivity flee, and I want to sit and (at least pretend to) knit by the fire . . . perhaps even watch a new DVD.  “We could just go to bed by 11,” suggests my wise husband before he returns to his desk.

I feel the inner struggle, stoked by the mug of coffee I shouldn’t have had after 7pm.  There are other projects I could do, things I need to get done.  I allow myself to stare into the fire for a few minutes.  Every moment of every day, we have a choice.  Those of us who are blessed and challenged with working from home, whether we get paid or not, there’s no one but ourselves to hold us accountable.  Thus, the inner struggle arising at all hours of the day.

The trick to feeling good about what we do may very well be making conscious decisions.  Mindfulness, if you will.  I like to feel in dialogue with the Universe/God/whatever you want to say.  How can I co-create with that which is greater than me?  If I feel good about where I am, what I am doing, then I radiate that positive energy, affecting not only those around me but also the rest of the cosmos.  This is a good thing.

Resolutions still holding firm, I removed myself from the fire, returned to my “desk” and made some notes on a project to jump-start the work I have to do today.  Creative, tangible, productive.  I went to bed feeling good.  I read a few pages in Angela’s Ashes before turning out the light, closing my eyes, and hoping for insightful dreams.

My husband put on his Facebook post, “HOW TO: Have four sick kids at once.  1) Have four kids.  2) Have one of the four kids be sick.  3) Mix well on a snow day.”  The next day, naturally, he had to post a “how to have a sick dad.”  The positive side is that at least the kids haven’t missed the whole week due to sickness, and there may be a snow day tomorrow as well.

As mothers, there’s a sickness regimen I think we develop for ourselves.  Healthy food, limit sugar, lots of tea/water, naps, clean/disinfect.  Perhaps the universe is reminding me that this is of utmost importance in our daily round, not just when the kids are sick.  I say this because my focus this week has been on being productive and taking my “work” seriously.

Fortunately, I have the time to spend with my family.  We are here together and somehow seem to have the means to provide, thanks be to God.  As I strive to check items off my list today, I’ll try to remember what will help keep us healthy individually and as a family.

I’m just sad it’s too cold outside to play!  We may have to make an exception to the sugar rule for some homemade cookies. 

Dear Hearts (yes, this includes you),

I remember the night I sat in a class about the “authentic” journey, making a list of those I admire.  I remember the shock, near horror, of being told that I possess the qualities of those I admire.  How could I possibly possess their qualities, their potential?  But my denial or disbelief doesn’t change what is.

Now it’s a new year, particularly the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and I find myself richly blessed, ready to embrace the present truly as the gift it is.  I give thanks for all the past has brought me.  I read through my gratitude journal from the past year, and I could feel the radiance of love, warmth, and joy.  Looking forward into this year, I know these blessings will continue.  I have an optimistic yet realistic view on what this year brings.  It includes hard work, but it also brings growth and progress in all aspects of my life.  I hope your friendship will endure my work.  Though I may not seem as available as I’ve been, know that your presence abides with me.

I realize that you, too, are on the list among those I admire, and you, too, teach me much about who I can be, who I am.  Your love, companionship, laughter, warmth, appreciation, humor, gratitude, hope, inspiration, gentleness, faith, doubt, will, strength, perseverance and openness are just a few of the things I count among our treasures.  Thank you for teaching me and allowing me to teach you, as the aikido sensei is fond of saying.

It may be a new year, but it is just another day.  Each day the sun rises, we have the opportunity to take yet another cleansing breath, let it all go, and begin again.  Thank you for sharing your journey with me.  I look forward to all that is to come, but mostly, I give thanks for all that is.  You here, now, is a gift.  You have my love and gratitude, now as always.

xoxo,

Sara

Since I’ve heard the story of Mary’s anunciation at least three times this month, it rings loudly in my ears.  It could be that last year all my ears could hear was the “holy s**t!” factor Mary must have felt, the “you-want-me-to-do-what?”  This year, however, I was given the opportunity to truly listen to the story, and like doing deep dream work, I was able to close my eyes and enter the story, the scene, the characters, and the energy present on that holy night.

I could feel the dry desert air in Mary’s mouth, in my mouth, the sandy breeze.  I could feel the weight of the day but the relief that comes when all that can be done is done, and it’s time to rest.  There’s stillness and a quiet acceptance of what is.  Then there’s this overwhelming encounter with an angel?  Could that be what that was?  Did anyone else see?  Did anyone else hear?  Could the racing of my heart be betraying me?  Have I not just heard a commission from God through one of His glorious angels?  Didn’t I just accept the call to be a mother to the child of God, me a young innocent?  The curious look from a neighbor makes me question, but my heart assures me it is true.  True, also, was the look of awe, sympathy, and adoration on the face of the angel, in his voice.  Returning to the stillness of the night, it was like a dream, but now my life is changed forever more.  I cannot know the depth of this responsibility, what it might fully entail.  I just know that in the moment, in the presence of what is Holy, I knew I could make no other choice, for “Here am I . . . servant to the Lord.”

Then I realize that the anunciation of Mary is quite similar to our own stories when we are answering a call that aligns with God’s will.  Often it comes to us when we least expect it, when we are still and accepting of the present.  But it could be when things seem most in chaos.  When we hear that tumultuous stirring in our hearts, experience the ecstatic joy of co-creating with God, we know we are where we are meant to be.  What comes down the road, we may not know, but we continue in faith and trust and hope.  Most importantly, we continue in Love.

I don’t know anyone personally who has had the clarity of purpose as Mary, through an angel’s visit.  If you’re like me, you would welcome an angel’s visit telling you what to do, what God wants you to do.  But it seems even as it seems harder to hear God’s voice these days, God’s trust in us is just as present, if not moreso.  God seems to trust each of us that Jesus was enough to teach us how to be in relationship not only with each other but with God as well.  And example after example in the Bible shows us people, servants to the Lord, who are simply present, hear a call and respond, “Here am I.”

May we be that strong, that trusting, that faithful.  May the joy of the season inspire us.

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.