Open Surrender Strong

These were words in the "No Fear Yoga" practice this morning.  And in a week where fear got the upper hand, they were extra useful. And really great words for putting fear in the right place.

Open heart, open to life, open to love.

Surrendered heart, surrender to life, surrender to love.

Strong heart, strong for life, strong for love.

I just wanted to remember.

So Many Rocks, So Many Hills

Work is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Being the mum to a sick boy is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Making decisions with another person who is equal parts handsome, handy and ludicrous is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Spending money on boring things like tires and groceries is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Trying to dance with hope while the world burns around me is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

On days like today, I re-read the blogs of friends who's kids have cancer, or who had cancer before they died and I try to remember these are all wonderful problems I have.

Actually, writing that down makes me feel like a bit of an asshole. Because indeed, these are wonderful problems to have and no amount of clever blogging is going to make them less great problems to have. These aren't even the HARDEST problems I've had. They're just a lot of them at one time and they're getting boring.

And even I know this: boring problems are the best problems. No one wants problems that aren't boring. Not even me.

So today, tonight, the thing I am reminding myself of is that if indeed our biggest problem is that we're bored of our problems, we better figure out how to get unbored in a hurry before life does that for us.

I can't remember exactly how to do that, but I think I'd rather put my time and energy into that.

Stay tuned.

One True Thing

Tonight's yoga practice asked me to remember one thing I know is true.

And I remembered that God loves me.

Or maybe I remembered that I believe God loves me.

And then I remembered that I believe because God loves me, I can love the people I'm given to love. And I can rest in the imperfection of my love for them because of the perfection of God's love for me, and for them.

That is One True Thing tonight, and I'm so grateful.

Parenting while the world falls apart

Two things I've written down lately that I want to remember:

First this, in response to a question about how to offer children authentic hope:

Part of my hope rests in the belief that all that matters isn't just in the here and now but extends into eternity somehow. But that hope isn't really enough to get me out of bed most days. 
Hope that good people do good in terrible circumstances buoys me though. Hoping in material security won't serve us, but hoping in values like goodness and kindness and justice - that even while we are less physically or economically less comfortable, there will be more justice - that is something I can teach my kids to look for and be working to be part of. There are already billions of people living lives full of meaning and value in terrible circumstances - we may well join their ranks, or our children may. But circumstances are not the point of this life - character is, and so I am full of hope that my own children will be people of character who chase goodness and justice, even in the midst of suffering. That's my authentic hope.

Second this, as I made sense of a morning gone terribly, terribly wrong:

What do I need to hear/say today?
I'm not sure, but it's something about being a good neighbour. About loving who you're given to love IN THE MOMENT. This morning it was my daughter and my son and I loved them so poorly. Really, really, really badly.
As I processed it with my friend and co-worker, we got to the inevitable, "Well, what do you do?" and I remembered that all we do is apologize, own our mistake and try to get better, try to make that particular mistake less often.
Here's the thing: I give my kids lots of good. And some terrible.
I try to shift the balance to more good and less terrible every damned day.
Some days, today, I fail.
Most days, I pass.
I'm doing the same thing in the fight against evil. Some days I get it mostly good with only a hint of terrible.
Some days, it's just a lot of terrible.
But every day, it's on my radar and every day, I get to practice doing it and hopefully over time, the practice itself leaves a mark. ON me, on my people, on my world.
The world doesn't have more terrible in it today than it did on January 19. The terrible that is present is louder and has more power, but so does the good.  Good is louder these days. That's a miracle. And of course, power that I care about isn't political power. It's heart power. And I think Good might be getting more heart-powerful these days.

Also, Soft

An additional word for this year: softer.

A group of women gathered this weekend to celebrate my mum. They said a lot of wise things, and many will linger. But Nanny's words, that she wished she had been softer with her people and with her sweet self... that has lodged itself in my heart, and I find myself meditation on it these many hours later.

Yoga is a practice that asks for strength and softness to work together.

Softer. Stronger. That is what this year is going to require of me.

May it be so.

Strength for the Journey

One thing I like about yoga is setting intentions. It has replaced prayer for me in the last year, in as much as I sit quietly at the beginning of practice to see if there is something I can hear. Most often two or three words come, and then I carry them through my practice, breathing them in and out, literally inspiring my movement. At the end of my practice, I remember what brought me to my mat and I lie quietly for a few minutes to let it soak through me, and settle in my bones.

The first practice of the year brings with it the words Strength for the Journey. The prayer, strengthen us for the journey; strengthen me for the journey.

That is what I'm starting this year with: the prayer that we will each find and build the strength needed for all that lies ahead.

Amen.

Back to Basics

I bet if I looked, I'd find I've used this title before.

Mostly because I've freaked the fuck out before. And then had to recover. Or at least keep feeding my family. Neither lets me linger in the dark for too long.

And so, today was possible. I only cried one time, and that was gratitude crying which is much nicer than despair crying. I was grateful for Alix, who is leading Girls with Grit for sweet peas like my sweet T. It's possible I bullied her into it, but no matter how it happened, this beautiful soul has decided to gather girls together and teach them how to move their bodies to let shit go, and then let them write and create and build and dream so that their souls have a bit more bounce to them to get them through this world.

Surely this world needs more women with souls that bounce and bodies that flow.

I also walked in a forest. I tried to be really deep and thoughtful, and notice how healing nature is. Maybe I didn't give it enough time. But for 30 minutes I didn't read any articles that made me nauseous, or hear another news item that made me want to drive into the sea.

But mostly, I did the one thing that always heals. I shared communion with my neighbours. It's my favourite kind of communion, apple ginger cider and vegan chocolate mint cookies around the kitchen with the atheists I love best. They did more for my soul in 75 minutes than anything else has done in the last 5 days. We raged and wondered and gasped and laughed. We compared our various reasons for despair and delighted in how many there were.

But mostly, we were together and we were safe and we were agreed that justice is our responsibility. And that sometimes kids just need to play outside.

I have walked through several different phases of post-election trauma. Denial, grief, rage, acceptance and then back again. I have read 17 different ways to respond and read 17 different reasons why each of those ways are dumb. March! Don't march! Safety pins mean safety! Safety pins mean white privilege! Give money! Don't fund the war! There is no right answer here friends.

And when there is no right answer, that's when we go back to basics.

Love God.

Love your neighbour.

Who's your neighbour?

The person you come across who needs what you have to give.  Or maybe it's the person who has to give the very thing you need.

Either way, when the gift is given and the gift received, the Kingdom is on earth as it is in Heaven.

I don't have to fix western civilization. I just have to be willing to give away what it is I have to give and receive what it is I need from the people who I come across.  Tonight it was cider and cookies. Tomorrow it may be shelter and food. I'll just keep my eyes open as I walk for those journeying the other way.

What Hope Looks Like in the Dark

I am so afraid.

I have made myself walk through the last three days since the American election, but my heart is still curled up in my bed weeping like a fourth grader. Like the fourth grader I was, who wept through the night believing we were minutes away from nuclear war. That fear feels the same 35 years later. The tears burn the same way 35 years later. The hopeless "I don't know what to do" sinks me the same way 35 years later.

What's different is that I have children I'm sending into this dark future we face. I'm not just afraid of my own small legs not being able to carry me away from danger. I'm afraid of watching helplessly as my children... I can't. I can't even type it. Oh shit. I'm just so scared.

Another thing's that different is that I know fear does not serve me. No bad thing is deterred because someone thought to be afraid of it before it happened. No good idea is borne of terror. Despair has yet to inspire the next right thing.

So I'm working hard. Scott just got irked that I can't turn off my angst to listen to him talk for two minutes. But he doesn't know how much effort it takes to turn down the volume on the voice in my head saying "you're about to watch the end of the world". He doesn't know how hard it is to stop planning how much food we can pack into the boat, because that's the only thing I can think about that's remotely constructive. How nutritious are fiddleheads anyway?

But every day, I'm going to work a little harder at it. Because hope is our only hope this week. I will hope that I can look up often enough to catch people in the middle of goodness. I will hope that the God I love will grow love in me for the people who were so angry, so disenfranchised, so scared themselves, that they chose this man for their next leader. I will hope that something happens that boosts peace and cooperation back up to the top of the global agenda.

This isn't a pretty piece. Not so eloquent or helpful. Hope in the dark can be ugly like that. But I'm going to keep at it. I'm going to write it down - maybe the rhythm of typing will soothe me.

I'll let you know how it goes.

But What If...

What if we're fine?

What if this is the point, right now?

My boy harvesting raspberries with the sons of my yoga teacher, my daughter working on the boat with my husband, my tea hot and my novel engaging. Our home open, home to some young kid on his way to his own 20something life exploring in that same inlet that has brought so much life to our own crew.

What if this is all that's required for now? If the next thing will come when the next thing is due, and we're fine until then?

I'm not convinced really. I don't see anything else to do but enjoy this moment, but I'm not convinced I shouldn't be looking harder.

And another thing... (double-posting because I'm double-fucked)

We have a just-right sized house in a community full of people we care for.

We both have jobs that are fine. We do not always spend our days doing what we are built for, but we are paid enough to keep our home and feed each other, and live generously with our friends and neighbours.

We have most of our family within a five-minute drive and then a few more half-an-hour away and the other two just six hours away.

We do not have a lot of clarity about what the point is right now. The vision and mission part - that's what is missing.

We are low on community these days, more now than we have been in a long time.

What is so wrong exactly?

It's that part where we don't have a point.

For the first few years the point was trying to get pregnant, trying to become a family. Then the point was trying to keep those babies alive and just get through. Then the point was helping Joanne die. then the point was getting Scott back on a fire truck.

But now there's no point.

I worry if we don't come up with a point soon, we'll be given a new one. A new terrible one like more dying parents or joblessness. Or worse.

To love God and worship God forever. That's supposed to be the Grand Point of It All, but I think I'm looking for something a bit more specific.

Love God and love your neighbours. And who is your neighbour? Whoever you come across who needs what it is you have to give. That's my own personal point, my grand guiding mission and vision. Can it be all of ours?

So then the work is to just keep journeying with eyes open for those who need what it is we have to give. And to be maybe be sure to be living in what it is we have to give so that it's easy to be giving it away.

And what is it then that we have to give, our little foursome? Maybe that's what needs to be lingered on next?

No exorcism today.  Maybe tomorrow.

Timing

Timing is the one thing that we often forget to surrender to.

Things are dark until they’re not. Most of our unhappiness stems from the belief that our lives should be different than they are. We believe we have control — and our self-loathing and self-hatred comes from this idea that we should be able to change our circumstances, that we should be richer or hotter or better or happier. While self-responsibility is empowering, it can often lead to this resentment and bitterness that none of us need to be holding within us. We have to put in our best efforts and then give ourselves permission to let whatever happens to happen—and to not feel so directly and vulnerably tied to outcomes. Opportunities often don’t show up in the way we think they will.

You don’t need more motivation or inspiration to create the life you want. You need less shame around the idea that you’re not doing your best. You need to stop listening to people who are in vastly different life circumstances and life stages than you tell you that you’re just not doing or being enough. You need to let timing do what it needs to do. You need to see lessons where you see barriers. You need to understand that what’s right now becomes inspiration later. You need to see that wherever you are now is what becomes your identity later.

From http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jamie-varon/to-anyone-who-thinks-theyre-falling-behind_b_9190758.html

I am trying to make sense of the above. Or maybe make peace with it.

I am so profoundly unhappy I can't see straight. I am seconds away from being completely undone by the story that my life has been a series of terrible mistakes.

Except of course as soon as I type that, I know it's not true. It's really just the last 4 years I really haven't liked. The last four years where it felt like a lot of big things got taken out of our hands. The last four years where the illusion that we were making choices was finally shown for what it is - just make-believe. 

I thought we'd get to choose more. But I mostly know that life chooses us. The journey through our 20s and 30s is a journey toward realizing that we've chosen very little - maybe the knobs on the cabinets in a house that was built long before we showed up. The foundation, the size, the number of rooms of our House Life: all those were not choices at all, though it was fun to pretend I suppose. 

I know all this, have known it for years, and yet. And yet.

I am ready to choose something. I want to move a wall or build a new wing. I want to pack up the whole thing and move it a few (hundred) miles down the road. But so far, life is not yielding to my plans and appears resolute in limiting my options to moving the pictures around, or maybe bringing in a houseplant. 

There were a lot of loud voices in my life telling us we got to choose, and that in fact every moment was an opportunity to Choose Wisely. That the Wrong Choice could wreck everything and before we knew it, we'd be walking with the devil straight to eternal terrible. It's odd to me that I've rejected that entire theology so entirely and yet, am absolutely managed by it in this current storm. I can not shake the belief that at some point in the last 48 months, we disobeyed, chose the wrong thing and are perilously close to being lost forever.  I am certain that we are supposed to be doing something altogether other than what we're doing and that the reason I don't know what it is is because of sin, because I'm not listening, because of Something I've Done.

Sigh. The certainly is so small, but SO LOUD. What curses we have been fed, dressed up as blessings. 

Maybe we need an exorcism...

Thirteen

Weird.

As if luck had something to do with it.

This week I read that the daughter of a couple I met one time, with whom I share many friends in common, has died. She was little, and she had cancer for many, many months, maybe many years. Her dad's facebook page has lots of pictures of her sweet bald head in various moments of the journey, and ends with a picture of the coffin he has built for her with his father and brother. It is gutting.

Yesterday I saw a friend I don't see often anymore. It is the ten-year anniversary of her brother's murder. It took but a moment to remember with her, and the gutting truth of his story was tear-making all over again, the pain of it as acute and wrenching 3650 days later.

She is walking alongside a friend who's daughter drowned last summer in circumstances that will never be clear enough leaving only questions that can never be answered. This woman was anchored by motherhood, and in its absence, now just drifts on her own sea of what the fuck.

When one week brings this many brushes with unbearable, all there is to do is bear it with. Even if it's just a psychic with.  I will carry some of the unbearable for a time believing that somehow the cosmos works together for good and the piece I carry with them is a piece they don't have to bear alone.

All there is is with. With weighs more than luck I think. At least today.

Twelve

So, the point is people show up.

Stooping is a thing we do because it brings us goodness. We sit out there, and people show up and we feel loved and noticed and known and connected. It's all about us. We'd be lonely without it.

We talk about stooping, because who doesn't want to talk about the things that make us feel like tomorrow is possible? 

It turns out though, that all our stooping evangelism has an unexpected outcome: people know to show up.  

We love a lot of people. It's not a sure thing that it's reciprocated so we keep it on the down low. And one of the couples we love texted just before seven tonight to see if there was stooping. They hadn't stooped before (well, that's not true - we've boat stooped with them a hundred times, but never street stooped) and were nearby and wanted in on the action.

They pulled up, full of second guessing - "we're crashing! we should go. we're sorry. we'll go get wine." Nope. Pull up, sit down and wait for the shit show that is daily life chez nous to settle down enough for cheap wine to be found and a bag of chips opened.

Turns out that life has taken yet another turn for the awful for them this week. Turns out cheap wine and shitty salsa and an hour on the stoop takes the edge off. They left feeling less hopeless for a few minutes.

And us? We were just weak with gratitude. For them and their friendship, but also for the good fruit that comes from a good gift well-enjoyed.  We didn't invent the stoop - we've just enjoyed it. And as we've been fed by the friendships that have grown there, we get to pass it along to a few others and that makes us feel all kind of rich.

Tonight we go to bed like millionaires; friendship millionaires, again.

Eleven

My girl is a total liar and cheat.

It's such a happy moment for me! Finally, not alone in this family. Husband and son are fucking honest do-gooders.  Well, that's not true. But their crimes run to the mundane candy-thieving and thing-breaking-then-covering-up variety.

The girl committed fraud. Forged my signature. More than once.

Sadly, she did it in her agenda which as documents go, is pretty public, sitting right there in her book-bag and all.  And while I have definitely left it to her to bring me said agenda to sign, and have not commented when she doesn't, I have also been known to open it from time to time. Had she given it thought, she might have weighed the odds for been caught a bit more heavily.

The crime of course, is serious. Forgery is a trust-breaker, and hopefully between now and tomorrow morning, I'll have taken some serious action. I'm not great though, at the consequence part. Feeling terrible and contrite as she does, seems like consequence enough. Telling her teacher is going to be TERRIBLE for her.  Isn't feeling bad bad enough?? I'm not sure.  I'll probably ask around, and certainly if you reading this have thoughts, you should pass them along.

But the parenting gold for me is after the consequences, when we get to fix the trust. When I get to notice and point out how trust-worthy she's being, and point out how much better that is for all of us. That part, I'm going to really feel good about.

In the meantime, I'd like to believe that this is a moment that she will remember forever, that will shape her into her adult self in some kind of amazing way that she uses in sermons and motivational speeches in her lucrative career as Someone Earth Changing.  Probably that won't happen.

But probably it will be a pretty big moment for me in my parenting career. A moment where despite wanting to shout and yell when she would not say words for SO. MANY. LONG. MINUTES. I managed to stay quiet and cuddled. I found a way to be the person I want to be when I grow up, and it was like a little tiny parenting miracle.

This does not mean I got it "right", as far as her moral development goes.  Probably the right thing to do here is a bit more serious and a bit heavier on consequences. She could be ruined forever.

But I did get it Right, as far as my heart goes.  I can live with myself tonight, and feel hopeful about our tomorrow.  Winner winner, chicken dinner.

Ten

Pushing water uphill.

Brushing teeth while eating an oreo.

Cleaning a house with children at home.

It was that kind of day.

So read through November 2012 posts - I did that instead of write, and it made me glad I wrote before, because there's some good shit there. And by good shit, I mean, words I still believe and that I'm still glad I wrote down.