{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Friday, September 28, 2012
this moment
Linking with SouleMamma and many others:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
May your weekend be filled conquering new skills!
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
sharing a dream
A dream evolves over time. I've come to understand this evolution as a simple truth in life. To know your own dreams is to know the time and space and angst and patience that makes the dream come clear. But to be able to help others, those who are closest to you, know your dreams - see them, taste them, feel them - this eludes me.
On a recent morning, when I found myself without the energy to enter into my daily routine - shower, commute, work - I consciously pulled back into my mind allowing myself a retreat from the world.
One. day.
The television sat still, its black face staring at me in the silence. The myriad of books on meditation, faith, social issues, ethics rested on my nightstand. They, too, took more energy than I could muster.
I meditated, my usual attempt to silence my thoughts. The same thoughts that seemed to be consuming me, sometimes so loud I am sure the person sitting next to me can hear their impatient beckoning. These thoughts that seem to reduce me to a useless person, moping, unable to move.
Somehow I know in these thoughts my dreams are desperate to find another soul with whom to connect. My dreams, I realize, are hidden in the noise racing in my mind. It seems the chatter grows louder when something needs out, when a dream needs an anchoring point somewhere in my life. A friend.
So, on this day of rest, I thought I'd take a trip to the library. Perhaps there I would find answers that would move me from this lonely place of self pity. My first stop: the religion section. I searched for Thomas Merton, contemplative theologian and Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist teacher. I found a few interesting books and began my pile. Surely something more about meditation would help me replant my feet.
In the back of my mind, I remembered the list of gardening books I had been researching and headed to the appropriate aisle. Off the shelves, I chose this book:
This simple book which gave voice and life and movement to my dreams. What's more is that I haven't read even one page.
But, Papa Bear has!
You see, our garden began as a hobby - a place for the boys to use their big tools and find a bit of their childhood. All the while my dreams of our garden have ripened into a lush, full, sustaining, connection between my family, this abundant Earth, my grace giving God, and the imagined harvests of years to come. Yes, this dream has evolved. Into something really big.
And this simple book, picked up as an after thought and whose spiritual value seemed to pale in comparison with its borrowed companions, gave voice to my dreams. Shouted loud and clear to my favorite earth lover that my dream was more than a passing wish. Somehow, he heard that our children, too, were understanding the beauty of eating "garden to table." Somehow, this book seduced him into jumping feet first into my dream, now a co-creator in what is to come. And that makes me very, very happy indeed.
On a recent morning, when I found myself without the energy to enter into my daily routine - shower, commute, work - I consciously pulled back into my mind allowing myself a retreat from the world.
One. day.
The television sat still, its black face staring at me in the silence. The myriad of books on meditation, faith, social issues, ethics rested on my nightstand. They, too, took more energy than I could muster.
I meditated, my usual attempt to silence my thoughts. The same thoughts that seemed to be consuming me, sometimes so loud I am sure the person sitting next to me can hear their impatient beckoning. These thoughts that seem to reduce me to a useless person, moping, unable to move.
Somehow I know in these thoughts my dreams are desperate to find another soul with whom to connect. My dreams, I realize, are hidden in the noise racing in my mind. It seems the chatter grows louder when something needs out, when a dream needs an anchoring point somewhere in my life. A friend.
So, on this day of rest, I thought I'd take a trip to the library. Perhaps there I would find answers that would move me from this lonely place of self pity. My first stop: the religion section. I searched for Thomas Merton, contemplative theologian and Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist teacher. I found a few interesting books and began my pile. Surely something more about meditation would help me replant my feet.
In the back of my mind, I remembered the list of gardening books I had been researching and headed to the appropriate aisle. Off the shelves, I chose this book:
This simple book which gave voice and life and movement to my dreams. What's more is that I haven't read even one page.
But, Papa Bear has!
You see, our garden began as a hobby - a place for the boys to use their big tools and find a bit of their childhood. All the while my dreams of our garden have ripened into a lush, full, sustaining, connection between my family, this abundant Earth, my grace giving God, and the imagined harvests of years to come. Yes, this dream has evolved. Into something really big.
And this simple book, picked up as an after thought and whose spiritual value seemed to pale in comparison with its borrowed companions, gave voice to my dreams. Shouted loud and clear to my favorite earth lover that my dream was more than a passing wish. Somehow, he heard that our children, too, were understanding the beauty of eating "garden to table." Somehow, this book seduced him into jumping feet first into my dream, now a co-creator in what is to come. And that makes me very, very happy indeed.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
daddy's work
Daddy's work. An imaginary place, we think. A place that is very far away. A place where Boss Bob has an office that Daddy has to go to every now and then. Daddy's work sparks curiosity, wonderment.
It's different from Mommy's work where we go to watch movies, hear bands, see parades, snack on popcorn and hot chocolate. Mommy's work has students, many of whom we know. Some even babysit us. Mommy's work has Camille (a co-worker) who buys us Disney movies, sends home balloons and stickers and leftover giveaways. Mommy's work has a preschool where we've met many of our friends.
Mommy's work seems familiar and ordinary. But Daddy's work seems exciting, mysterious, larger than life.
So, Daddy took us into the city to see his work. It was a long drive.
His work was hosting a family day at a city museum, so we stopped there first. We got to see a mansion where a woman with lots of money used to live. The house was AMAZING! We couldn't touch anything inside the house. But we want to live there! We didn't get to see the third or fourth floor of the house because no one is allowed. They said they would have to build an ugly staircase on the outside to keep people safe if there was a fire. That would make the beautiful house very ugly. We still wanted to see the upper floors.
Then we drove into the city where there were skyscrapers and really big buildings. Daddy doesn't like to pay for parking, so we parked a long way from his building. He made us walk down a very steep hill. But he promised we wouldn't have to walk back up.
We looked up the side of the building. It was so AMAZING!
There were lots and lots of elevators. We had to pick the special elevator that would take us to the 56th floor. The screen told us to pick elevator C.
Then we walked into a see of colorless cubicles. It was like a maze and the perfect space for hide-and-seek. We even found donuts in one of the aisles! Daddy wouldn't let us eat them. We sat at the big conference tables and called our meeting to order. We wanted so badly to run up and down the sea of beige, to take sharp turns at every corner, to race each other to the door, and to laugh altogether. Mommy wouldn't let us run!
Daddy showed us the view from the windows. You could see the whole city - the ball parks, the bridges, and the teensy, tiny people walking down below. It was beautiful!
Our favorite part, though, was Daddy's desk. He had our artwork hung all over! And pictures of us! And a picture of Mommy!
So, this was our adventure to see Daddy's work! We LOVE our Daddy!
Mr. Man, Peace, and Pie
It's different from Mommy's work where we go to watch movies, hear bands, see parades, snack on popcorn and hot chocolate. Mommy's work has students, many of whom we know. Some even babysit us. Mommy's work has Camille (a co-worker) who buys us Disney movies, sends home balloons and stickers and leftover giveaways. Mommy's work has a preschool where we've met many of our friends.
Mommy's work seems familiar and ordinary. But Daddy's work seems exciting, mysterious, larger than life.
So, Daddy took us into the city to see his work. It was a long drive.
His work was hosting a family day at a city museum, so we stopped there first. We got to see a mansion where a woman with lots of money used to live. The house was AMAZING! We couldn't touch anything inside the house. But we want to live there! We didn't get to see the third or fourth floor of the house because no one is allowed. They said they would have to build an ugly staircase on the outside to keep people safe if there was a fire. That would make the beautiful house very ugly. We still wanted to see the upper floors.
Then we drove into the city where there were skyscrapers and really big buildings. Daddy doesn't like to pay for parking, so we parked a long way from his building. He made us walk down a very steep hill. But he promised we wouldn't have to walk back up.
We looked up the side of the building. It was so AMAZING!
There were lots and lots of elevators. We had to pick the special elevator that would take us to the 56th floor. The screen told us to pick elevator C.
Then we walked into a see of colorless cubicles. It was like a maze and the perfect space for hide-and-seek. We even found donuts in one of the aisles! Daddy wouldn't let us eat them. We sat at the big conference tables and called our meeting to order. We wanted so badly to run up and down the sea of beige, to take sharp turns at every corner, to race each other to the door, and to laugh altogether. Mommy wouldn't let us run!
Daddy showed us the view from the windows. You could see the whole city - the ball parks, the bridges, and the teensy, tiny people walking down below. It was beautiful!
Our favorite part, though, was Daddy's desk. He had our artwork hung all over! And pictures of us! And a picture of Mommy!
So, this was our adventure to see Daddy's work! We LOVE our Daddy!
Mr. Man, Peace, and Pie
Friday, September 14, 2012
this moment {dishes with Daddy}
Linking with SouleMamma and many others:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
May your weekend be filled with cooperation and togetherness!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
She likes...
She likes peace. Because her Mama talks of peace often: her dreams of peace, her desire for peace. World peace, peace in relationship, internal peace. Peace connects her and her Mama.
She likes food. Grown up food, especially homemade food. Because her Mama thinks homegrown, homemade is healthy, important, a special gift she can give her children. Food connects her and her Mama.
She likes tea. Because it calms her as she settles for the night. She and her Mama drink their tea together. It's an evening ritual. Tea connects her and her Mama.
She likes to write. Telling stories on paper somehow gives life to her thoughts. Her Mama likes to write, too. Writing connects her and her Mama.
She likes to read. Out loud to her baby sister. Conquering hard words with triumph. Soaking in the story. Her Mama loves to listen to her read. Reading connects her and her Mama.
She likes to breathe. A slow meditative breath that calms the mind and soul. She softens beautifully when she and her Mama breathe together. Such tender moments designed intentionally to calm her anxiety or help her through illness. Breathing connects her and her Mama.
Then again, breathing connects all of life.
She likes food. Grown up food, especially homemade food. Because her Mama thinks homegrown, homemade is healthy, important, a special gift she can give her children. Food connects her and her Mama.
She likes tea. Because it calms her as she settles for the night. She and her Mama drink their tea together. It's an evening ritual. Tea connects her and her Mama.
She likes to write. Telling stories on paper somehow gives life to her thoughts. Her Mama likes to write, too. Writing connects her and her Mama.
She likes to read. Out loud to her baby sister. Conquering hard words with triumph. Soaking in the story. Her Mama loves to listen to her read. Reading connects her and her Mama.
She likes to breathe. A slow meditative breath that calms the mind and soul. She softens beautifully when she and her Mama breathe together. Such tender moments designed intentionally to calm her anxiety or help her through illness. Breathing connects her and her Mama.
Then again, breathing connects all of life.
Monday, September 10, 2012
harvest of all sorts
It's harvest time and preserving time and baking time again in our kitchen. Such a favorite time of year. Wonderful things have found their way into my kitchen, all of it local, little of it from our own garden. Sigh.
I've noted a change in myself this summer, especially as we approach this season of canning jars, strainers, hot water baths, variations on tomato preservation, and using the last of the zucchini. I'm more anxious, more overwhelmed. There is more longing in my arms and legs and soul.
So noted...but I'll understand this shift in time.
There are seconds among the angst where my attention seems to lag behind. For in that second, I'm watching a child grow or a child doing something that I can't remember her doing just a year ago. I'm ever grateful that my attention pauses long enough to acknowledge, to realize, to admire.
My children fashion me a baker - the best baker ever. I think they are really cute! I think I read directions really well (thank you Betty Crocker). I do love that they love my treats. And ask for my treats. And have stopped asking for store-bought treats. They get it. Homemade tastes better. I get it. Homemade IS better.
What really matters to me, though, is my baking creates memories. And Papa's dinners create memories. And both bring us together as a family where we share stories and accolades. Where my children profess Papa as "the best chef ever" and dream of a time when Papa and I open a restaurant all our own. We all know that will never happen, but we all know that dreams are better dreamed together. It really is fun to see where a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies can take us.
My children don't often help when I bake - at least not in the practical sense. Cheerleaders, yes. Kitchen assistants, no. Recently, though, Peace has shown some interest. A good practice for my patience to be sure (note the flour all. over. the. counter.).
But I do love having her at my side. Her growing, kind, and caring self seeking how she fits into the world. I can see that search in her eyes. It is familiar. Sometimes her eyes are dancing. Sometimes they are sad and far away. But she's taking it all in. The roles women in her life play: athletes, dancers, teachers, cheerleaders, doctors, wives, mothers, and more.
She watches the roles I play. I wonder what she thinks of those roles. And when she is ready, when she's noodled them over in her amazing mind, she'll tell me what she thinks of the roles I play. Sometimes, I know. Like when she asks why I don't wear makeup like her teacher who is so beautiful. Or when she doesn't want to race me because she knows I run very slowly. Oh I wonder.
This time with her, in my kitchen, is a bit of a gift. Just like everything else that happens in my kitchen. And for a woman who doesn't cook, that's saying something!
 |
| These delicious veges and tomatoes used to make the sauce seen below are from this amazing CSA. |
I've noted a change in myself this summer, especially as we approach this season of canning jars, strainers, hot water baths, variations on tomato preservation, and using the last of the zucchini. I'm more anxious, more overwhelmed. There is more longing in my arms and legs and soul.
So noted...but I'll understand this shift in time.
There are seconds among the angst where my attention seems to lag behind. For in that second, I'm watching a child grow or a child doing something that I can't remember her doing just a year ago. I'm ever grateful that my attention pauses long enough to acknowledge, to realize, to admire.
My children fashion me a baker - the best baker ever. I think they are really cute! I think I read directions really well (thank you Betty Crocker). I do love that they love my treats. And ask for my treats. And have stopped asking for store-bought treats. They get it. Homemade tastes better. I get it. Homemade IS better.
What really matters to me, though, is my baking creates memories. And Papa's dinners create memories. And both bring us together as a family where we share stories and accolades. Where my children profess Papa as "the best chef ever" and dream of a time when Papa and I open a restaurant all our own. We all know that will never happen, but we all know that dreams are better dreamed together. It really is fun to see where a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies can take us.
My children don't often help when I bake - at least not in the practical sense. Cheerleaders, yes. Kitchen assistants, no. Recently, though, Peace has shown some interest. A good practice for my patience to be sure (note the flour all. over. the. counter.).
But I do love having her at my side. Her growing, kind, and caring self seeking how she fits into the world. I can see that search in her eyes. It is familiar. Sometimes her eyes are dancing. Sometimes they are sad and far away. But she's taking it all in. The roles women in her life play: athletes, dancers, teachers, cheerleaders, doctors, wives, mothers, and more.
She watches the roles I play. I wonder what she thinks of those roles. And when she is ready, when she's noodled them over in her amazing mind, she'll tell me what she thinks of the roles I play. Sometimes, I know. Like when she asks why I don't wear makeup like her teacher who is so beautiful. Or when she doesn't want to race me because she knows I run very slowly. Oh I wonder.
This time with her, in my kitchen, is a bit of a gift. Just like everything else that happens in my kitchen. And for a woman who doesn't cook, that's saying something!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
gladsome
I have this special friend, named Claudine, who has this special way of encouraging me to do things I otherwise would not. I've made magic happen because of her (or should I say WITH her).
And guess what! She's at it again!
You see, she has this notion that I know something about being creative. Can you see my eyes rolling? Because they are. Seriously, she has invited me to assist her in making a dream of hers come true. And it seems it IS happening!
Introducing . . .
I hope you'll consider joining us as we nourish our own creativity!
Friday, September 7, 2012
this moment
Linking with SouleMamma and many others:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
This week's moment needed two photos to capture the whole story! May you find the joy of your weekend always withing your reach!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
a place of peace
I've been searching for a place, an inspiration, hope, a renewal.
It happens, now and again, that I begin to doubt my way and find myself retreating from life. It happens, sometimes, that I get frustrated with myself and my response to the seemingly endless sense of being overwhelmed. It happens, often, that I spend my internal thoughts dreaming of the places where the grass is greener, where I might find contentedness and peace of mind.
In those dark and inward times, I find myself searching for a place which might slow or shift my thinking.
Thankfully, today, I remembered our pond walks from the summer. We took a few of those walks with the cousins around our backyard pond. This place...this quiet little place.. is one which causes me to pause. It beckons appreciation for all that is life. It encourages curiosity. It quietly whispers 'Breathe.'
So for a moment today I'll pause to remember that feeling, that safe space away from the busyness that is life. I'll feel protected. I'll sink into the security I find there. And I will breathe a breath that connects me to those little ones I shared this time with in our very special summer together.
Namaste...
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