Thursday, August 31, 2006

Losing My Mind, (among other things)

My Costco card just DISSAPPEARED. It was in my hand 60, maybe 90 seconds ago when I punched the numbers into the Costco website to create my "list" of items I hope to obtain during the next cupon cycle. Hey, you can save a lot during those prescribed times for buying toilet paper and toothpaste. In this case, it was a new Dell laptop, as the one I'm typing on will no longer communicate with any printer, especially the new one my husband lovingly purchased for me in March. I had been waiting for the old printer to really die before I put it into retirement. It had become tempermental about taking in the paper and could, on most occasions, be lovingly, patiently coaxed to perform. I hooked up the new printer in order to "up" the quality of some business cards I needed to print and never imagined that I would log eight to ten hours of my precious time trying to get my old (three years, this March) laptop to communicate with my new printer. It got to the point that I knew I could bring the entire hard drive down if I kept on trying. Which led me to the discussion with my husband, the biggest investor in my business, of my dire need for a new computer. Having put the word out, I was only somewhat surprised that the Costco coupon book that arrived in the mail today included a coupon for up to $250 off of a new Dell laptop. I eagerly logged on to the Costco website, which I have not, up till now, been a member. I filled in all my personal info, my mailing address and phone number, my business name and password which led me to the card number, which I copied from the card I extracted from my wallet, buried deep in the well of my purse. There was, I confess, a moment of distraction, when my six year old daughter came to me, climbed up the side of my bar chair and pulled herself into my lap, pestering me with demands about swimming with dolphins someday at Sea World. I don't believe in making promises that I can't keep, so I said that it was "unlikely" that we would swim with dolphins at Sea World. In my defense, I did throw out Hawaii as a possibility, knowing that swimming a lap with dolphins was more likely to happen that way. She stormed off, ranting that there were no dolphins to swim with in Hawaii and that we had already been there once anyway. It was then that I started looking for my precious Costco card, and up till now, my heart sinks as I report that I CAN NOT FIND IT! After searching through my wallet, purse and all adjacent drawers and surfaces multiple times, it came to me that my sweet, innocent, dolphin-loving daughter might somehow be linked to the dissappearance of my Costco card. I questioned her gently, then firmly, using the tactic of presumed guilt. I even forced her to help me look for it. To no avail.
The curse of my experience in motherhood is that I am forced to multi-task and my brain is not always up to the job. More than once I have been engaged in witty conversations on the phone and put some item that requires refrigeration into a cupboard. I have a system of organized chaos that, if left undisturbed, usually allows me to retrieve important documents and papers at will. It is the expansion of my creative spirit and the organizational requirements of motherhood that drive me to this state of frustration. My fight for a calm and serene life fuel my inner diologue of, "that was a bad picture anyway", besides, there's always more where that came from.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Serenity in the Chaos

You try and you try to gets things done, to complete, to achieve, to have success, but there are always, delays, mishaps, rodblocks, hurdles and unforseen mud holes that you find yourself falling into. The day, of course, is not long enough to feed and clothe the children, feed and clothe myself, unload the dishwasher so I can load it, clean up the kitchen so I can cook, feed the ten animals breakfast before lunchtime, log on to my e-mail, log on to the wesites where I have an anticipated presence, create things on the computer, create jewelry at my desk, print out stone properties, package and mail things out, write bills and mail them on time, listen to voicemail, answer the phone, answer the cell phone, break up the fighting children, feed them lunch, take them to local spots of enrichment, rotate the laundry, unload and load the dishwasher, pick up the debris field in every room, have a meaningful relationship, be a good friend, think of others, make sure I'm taking care of myself, write this blog, take pictures, get pictures printed, put the prints in albums, update the baby books, clean out the closets, prepare for a garage sale, take a nap, quiet my mind.....That's not even the end of the list, but it's a start. I know this is a common issue among women, who tend to have a knack for menally cataloging things that need to be done, tended to, addressed, dealt-with. It must be part of the double X that makes us acutely aware of the list of things to do and again, that XX makes us feel a twinge of responsibility in making sure it all gets done. Great.

Today, I share with you some new pieces (that can be seen on created with simplicity (and men) in mind. My hope for you, as well as for me, is that we find all of our chores completed by some fairy or angel, husband or child, or, that what remains undone for now does not irritate us or nag us with it's incompleteness. Let us be serene in the chaos.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Loud and Clear

My throat had been hurting BAD for over two weeks. Bad enough for me to see my internist, who cultured me for strep but said it was probably allergies. To swallow was painful and my voice was beginning to reverbrate. My friend, who had seen success with reiki, scheduled me an appointment. I met with Liesel, who, with her tender touch, worked my chakra system channelling universal, healing energy through my meridian. My throat chakra was misaligned. No surprise. I was told that I needed to speak my anger. "But I can't- I don't have anger- only love, compassion, empathy..." Tears began to stream down my face. Fuck. I have anger. Unexpressed, of course. God damn it. I hate anger. I hate annoyance. I hate intolerance. I hate the weakness that comes with these shallow emotions. I hate having them. O.K. , I was willing, am willing to admit my imperfections and express my (cough) anger. Ohh, that means fessing up to my deep, old wounds from my childhood when my father left my sisters and I with only a child support check and holiday cards signed "love, Dad" to mark his paternal contribution. He had two more children, whom I can truthfully say that I have slept under the same roof with fewer than fourteen times. These children went on family vacations and had their father present at graduations and important occasions. Not that I am jelous of them. I am not. I am only dissapointed in my father for choosing to step aside and partake not in a difficult life as a father to three beautiful, strong women. As a step mother, I know first hand that divorce makes parenting far more challenging than it already can be. It is a challenge for those of us willing to get down and dirty to stand by our children, for their sake, even if it makes us uncomfortable, uneasy, unsettled, unhappy. Even if it makes us cry, we should be there for our kids. He has no excuse, he should have been there for us. He wasn't. I'm angry. But maybe a little bit less, now that I've written the words. I am healing. Using my voice. Speaking loud and clear. Even if the words aren't pretty.
By the way, my throat doesn't hurt any more. Not for eight days, since my session with Liesel.

Monday, August 07, 2006


It was sometime four or five thousand years ago that people created this stone circle. Its center stone and two outer circle stones line up with the arc of the sun during the summer solstice. It meant something, served a purpose, brought people together in ceremony or reverance. In life. We have but a short time to make our mark. We all do. Some of us do it loudly, and boldly, knowing we will leave an impression. Some of us are quiet and stealth in our passing through life, but pass nonetheless. We have presence- NOW. We breathe. We have the opportunity to create, to feel, to experience or to create experiences. We are ALIVE. We have this gift. Do you feel it? Your skin tingles with the touch of your own hand. If nothing else, we have the wealth of this moment. This breath. This opportunity. What would THEY give for what you have? This opportunity. What will you make of your today?