How is it that we can "know" what is right for us, "know" that our lives would be better, healthier, fuller, easier, more fluid if we did this particular thing or that specific thing, and yet stand and the gap between "knowing" and "doing" as if we were paralyzed?
If I ate better, if I got more exercise, if I got out more and socialized, if I saved more money, if I made better choices I would have a better quality of life. Some things I do not know how to attain, others are clearly attainable and yet I still stand here at the gap, looking over the edge.
No, I don't want someone to push me over the edge. I want to step, or leap, or jump that gap myself. I look for that muscle, the switch for movement and find myself looking into and murky pool of disappointment. I've jumped before and landed on my face, alone and feeling lost.
I don't have an answer, yet. I'll keep you posted...
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Hurricane Charlie
I just spent 28 hours with my soon-to-be 11 year old grandson, Charlie. It was both a delightful and a stressful experience.
It was a delight because Charlie is creative, intelligent, curious, and enthusiastic. He makes me laugh out loud (even if I try not to). He amazes me with sudden insights. We both like animated and action films. And, he truly appreciates my time and attention. He told me (during the 28-hour period) that I was like a friend. This pleased me, greatly.
It was stressful not because I am distressed by his presence but rather because he is like a hurricane. He blows into my space (energetic, emotional, and physical) and stirs up the sedentary dust of my solitary life, commands my attention like headlights do a deer's, and his interest shifts directions more often than a ping-pong ball. Oh, and he's always hungry.
Being present, aware, and engaged with Charlie is important to me. My own grandmother was a huge influence on me and I treasure the time we spent together. It was far less than the time I spend with Charlie (grandma lived out of state) but what it lacked in quantity, our time together made up for in quality. Grandma was my center. I knew I existed as an individual because Grandma related to me as one; she affirmed me. Grandma died in 2000 and I miss her very much. I find I return to memories of her when I am low or life seems hard. And, I smile often when I remember her wit, humor, compassion, and understanding.
So, when Hurricane Charlie, blows into my space. I revel in the disturbance as a chance to be for him what my grandmother was for me.
It was a delight because Charlie is creative, intelligent, curious, and enthusiastic. He makes me laugh out loud (even if I try not to). He amazes me with sudden insights. We both like animated and action films. And, he truly appreciates my time and attention. He told me (during the 28-hour period) that I was like a friend. This pleased me, greatly.
It was stressful not because I am distressed by his presence but rather because he is like a hurricane. He blows into my space (energetic, emotional, and physical) and stirs up the sedentary dust of my solitary life, commands my attention like headlights do a deer's, and his interest shifts directions more often than a ping-pong ball. Oh, and he's always hungry.
Being present, aware, and engaged with Charlie is important to me. My own grandmother was a huge influence on me and I treasure the time we spent together. It was far less than the time I spend with Charlie (grandma lived out of state) but what it lacked in quantity, our time together made up for in quality. Grandma was my center. I knew I existed as an individual because Grandma related to me as one; she affirmed me. Grandma died in 2000 and I miss her very much. I find I return to memories of her when I am low or life seems hard. And, I smile often when I remember her wit, humor, compassion, and understanding.
So, when Hurricane Charlie, blows into my space. I revel in the disturbance as a chance to be for him what my grandmother was for me.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Well
Some days when I write, it feels like dropping words
into a deep well... but there is no echo.
My words fall into the darkness; I imagine them creating ripples
that drift gently into shadowy places,
making sweet splashing noises that I can't hear.
I guess that's why I keep coming back.
Maybe that's why I drop words into the well,
the taste of the water is sweet on my lips and refreshing to my soul.
I would like to lower myself down, into the darkness,
into the stillness and dance in the water.
I would like to hear my voice echoed off the walls,
creating vibrations that make the well sing.
Then surrender to the water,
lie back and baptize myself in the song.
Today I am dropping words...
... imagining what it would feel like
to be immersed in the well, the water, and the song.
into a deep well... but there is no echo.
My words fall into the darkness; I imagine them creating ripples
that drift gently into shadowy places,
making sweet splashing noises that I can't hear.
I guess that's why I keep coming back.
Maybe that's why I drop words into the well,
the taste of the water is sweet on my lips and refreshing to my soul.
I would like to lower myself down, into the darkness,
into the stillness and dance in the water.
I would like to hear my voice echoed off the walls,
creating vibrations that make the well sing.
Then surrender to the water,
lie back and baptize myself in the song.
Today I am dropping words...
... imagining what it would feel like
to be immersed in the well, the water, and the song.
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