where i go to write

cross-legged on a wooden chair. the buzz humming around me. the hum buzzing through me. it’s not a coffeeshop, it’s a bakery. just my style. because writing truly is my ‘kneaded pleasure’. it’s so corny that it’s actually funny.

in the car. at stop signs. at red lights. i selfishly tune out my son’s repetitive story and innocent ramblings about fire trucks and bucket trucks. i seldom do this. and i have guilt for the time that i zone out. but i do anyway out of necessity. i roll a sentence or thought around my mouth to get a feel for where it’s going. how will it get there? where do i want it to be? how do i write so it’s not ‘rambling’ as was pointed out in constructive criticism. when i’m in the car and my son and i are alone, together, separately inseparable; i am given that headspace to work it out.

in the library. lost in the stacks. wishing for the huge stone libraries of the northeast. but making do with what i have. this is where i do my work. three hours a week, it fits into a monday morning, i cram it down my throat. not in a forceful way like choking down some unpleasantries – but in a way that i’m eating something so tasty that i just can’t eat fast enough. i lick my fingers and still leave smudged fingerprints and trails of crumbs.

i scribble furiously on mondays.
yet i walk away feeling like a snail with miles to go.
one blade of grass at a time.

enki

enki, the ancient symbol of flexible wisdom.
flexibility is the essence of what it is to educate.

have i finally found rooting? i have come to a place where life happens. i’m constantly journeying, but i’ve taken a step to create myself a foundation. i’m taking a step into my future. and it’s really exciting. i’m embarking on the journey to become a certified enki teacher. everything seems to fit. everything positive is moving forward with this flowing current. i’ve taken these words from the enki education site in hopes to share this light (and explanation) for those in my life who are curious.

“in the myths of ancient sumer, Enki is the god of the waters. in this land where the tigris and euphrates rivers make the land rich and green, enki flows into every corner and crevice, changing his shape to explore every detail and provide whatever is needed. by his very nature, he reflects all he meets – lighting up the natural wisdom and vitality of all he comes upon.

nothing is too foreboding, small, dark, or dirty for enki. according to mythology, when Inanna, the queen of heaven, hung trapped and lifeless in the underworld, all the gods and goddesses turned from her. only enki saw wisdom in her descent into the depths of the underworld. he decided to free her. from the dirt under his fingernails, he fashioned creatures and gave them the power of the waters. he sent them into the underworld, where they set Inanna free and returned her to life.

the first thing we meet each and every day, moment to moment , is ourselves. whoever we are, we stand before the children as an example of human potential, human decency, and human striving. our example will impact the children more deeply and more permanently than any of the skills, information or experiences we provide. when we feel we cannot find our way, remembering enki’s unwavering commitment even when all others had given up, can help us continue to strive to free and nourish the child’s potential and our own. it can be encouraging to remember that over 4500 years ago in ancient sumer this issue – continuing to strive when all seems hopeless – was of central importance. we are not alone in our frustration and fear, or in our striving.”

so, i’ve submitted my application and have chatted with the director of the program. they accept only 15 applicants per course. i’m really hoping the timing was right for me, it just feels right. online courses begin in march! there are so many aspects that could change and better my life, my community, and my son’s little co-op preschool that some close friends started last spring. all of this could grow into something so big for me here in austin. there’s so much comfort in that obviously.

there is a huge homeschool community here, and within my own small circle the future i have envision is very feasible. the plan is: once i become a certified teacher, river will be nearing the standard kindergarten age. at this time, the preschool co-op will grow with the kids, and i will start up my own enki based school for them. alot of what i’m thinking is based on the very popular austin homeschool community school Austin Home Base. it’s all the law of supply and demand it seems. there’s a definite need here in this bubble of texas (as with any other like-minded town i would find myself living in) this is how it all started for my cousin and her family up in Maine. they since have become a beautifully organized parent-run school with salaried teachers. The Whole School is so welcoming to my heart that it nearly had me packing my bags a few weeks ago! just kidding. um, not really.

another exciting aspect for growth is the upcoming summer intensive program i would attend up in New Hampshire during the month of June. the focus is on the family, so river would attend with me and his day would be full of nature hikes, crafts, and overall healthiness which is the heart of enki education. All this growth while i am on the road to my new future. i’m so happy to have such positivity coming into my life.

etsy shop update

a little bit of fun for dress up. i’ve added two of these 100% cotton child size aprons to my etsy shop this morning.

river loves to play dress up, so i’m constantly adding to his suitcase of clothes, masks, hats and tails. these aprons could suit either girl or boy with the reproduction 1950’s print. so sweet.

window in :: window out

i used to write on my school bus windows. first in the morning fog, my fingers would leave a trail of words for the car bound passers-by. “bored beyond belief” a line i snagged from my favorite steve martin satire ‘LA Story’. later into my teenage years, it became sharpies on glass. i was mastering the technique of words written backwards still perfectly legible.

in times of need i reach for a marker. when motherhood pushed me over my threshold and sleep deprivation became a shoulder perching menace who whispered in my ear, the word “respectful” appeared in bold black letters on my bathroom mirror. always the reminder to see the window out.

and when the sun shined only sometimes from behind clouds, blue words “blessed” were displayed on my kitchen door; the window overlooking the sanctuary of my backyard.

it was nighttime when i saw the red letters of a full sentence. they showed up on this same door, almost glowing. in this phrase, i see kenny’s searching. his reminder to himself to shed some light hopefully on a seemingly desperate situation. “i will allow myself to let the good overtake the bad”.

welcome back to the world of the living.

landslide

i haven’t been writing much. i’ve been processing. it’s kinda like feeling the heat on your face and inhaling the fumes after the explosion. this is processing. it takes time.

sometimes i witness the earth crumbling. like the thick red mud that smeared the road in colorado, commanding us to turn around. sometimes i witness the earth crumble. like the rocks that crushed city buses on their way up the canyon in boulder. that’s how i see it sometimes.

the crumbling of a relationship or a way of life or an ideal or a dream, felt more like a drowning in slow motion. the sensation of being tethered to another human, imperfect like myself as we have been for 12 years. treading water in slow motion, after three long years we both tire out. for some reason, instead of encouragement and support we beat each other over the head while drowning. we swing wildly and take cheap shots, growling and baring our teeth like wild animals. we pour salt in the wounds that never seem to heal.

it is now that i feel it. the crumbling. it’s different than witnessing it. it’s more like the sensation of standing on loose earth. the anxiety of unsure footing of the crumbly dirt that erodes away at the rivers edge. the fear of falling and getting hurt burns your throat. every detail gives way with the soil and you become the huge unstoppable landslide, tearing trees to their naked roots on your way down the slippery slope.

then it is quiet.
everything is unsure.
everything is fragile and sensitive.
this is healing i suppose.

some people make mention of this rough patch. and i blink in disbelief of their knowledge. no one knows how this feels. if they’ve felt rough patches, this is a bare assed ride down a sandpaper slide.

i’ve found that after devastation of heart, the earth settles. there’s simply no more earth left to slip slide away. and we are left at the bottom, our bodies broken at ground zero. flat on our backs, looking up at the mountain that we just fell from at full speed. we are breathless. speechless. bewildered. we are left wondering how to rebuild. questioning if we should, or if the earth is no longer trusting to us.

i feel it now as if floating in a reflective lake. when there’s nothing left to do but float on your back, it’s time to raise your eyes to the sky and watch for stars. i find myself counting them like blessings.

minute by minute.
day by day.

bokeh

thank god for Wikipedia
i’m a dork. i really am.
i don’t know what i’m doing. i really don’t.
but i have learned that this is a compliment and not a misspelling.
thank you.

i listen to my heart.
i focus on how i see the world.
sometimes it’s hard to do: to focus.
i try to share my eyes through photographs.
sometimes it’s too revealing to share so much.
risking a glimpse of the white underbelly.
the need to share is stronger than the insecurity to keep it hidden.

thank you for your comments on my photography.
it means the world to me right now, it really does.

thankful

blessing on the blossom
blessing on the root
blessing on the leaf and stem
blessing on the fruit

once

alot of stories begin with once.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary…
Once upon a time…

river tells me occassionally:
once when i was a momma…
once when i was a squirrel..
once when i was a baby…
once when i was a boy…

morning inbox

words for my blurry eyes, bright and early this morning from The Writer’s Almanac, the title is ironically fitting.

Words from the Front

We don’t look as young
as we used to
except in dim light
especially in
the soft warmth of candlelight
when we say
in all sincerity
You’re so cute
and
You’re my cutie.
Imagine
two old people
behaving like this.
It’s enough
to make you happy.

Poem: “Words from the Front” by Ron Padgett, from How to Be Perfect. © Coffee House Press, 2007.

thursdays

i love thursdays.
slow down.
mellow morning
reading books

imaginary play
bellies on the floor
tiny details of life
that take my focus

together
create
together
admire