I’m so happy I happen to stop in to see what Amira was doing when she asked me how to spell ‘weather’. She was writing this on a PBS website and was about to hit submit. If she had, before I came in, I never would have seen this…

Maria and Me, by Amira (age 7)

I run through the grass with pride,
happy I have a friend by my side.
I wish we could be together,
Even if it is rainy weather.

We are such a pair,
we both love to care.

My friend is Maria, you see.
She is great and she loves me.
I love my friend.
And I know our friendship will never end.

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Last week, I happened upon this recipe by The Gracious Pantry for gluten-free tortillas. Having a tasty gluten-free tortilla is something Amira & I are always wishing for. We do like the store brand  La Tortilla All Natural Sonoma Gluten-Free Teff Tortillas (wow, that’s a long product name). But something homemade sounded yummy, and the photos that The Gracious Pantry took of them made them look irresistible. I had to try! Not having ever made a tortilla in my life, I crossed myself and dove in.

I started by halving the recipe because I didn’t want to make 18 awful tortillas.

I showed my poor recipe following skills right away – by putting in cold water instead of hot water. I might have put just a squidgen more than I was supposed to as well. The dough was a wee bit sticky. I had to lightly oil my hands to press the tortillas.

The first one looks like, well, I don’t know what! Australia maybe? Maybe I could make these tortillas into geography lessons? Which continent did you get? Ooh, ooh, mine’s Antarctica!!!

Subsequent attempts more tortilla-ish looking…

My able assistant was more than happy to help with the tortilla pressings. She said: “This is easy, Mom – I just pretend I’m playing with Play-Doh!”

Tortilla making jazz-hands!!

They were, like I forewarned you, a tad-too-thick, odd-shaped and yet tasty. Good thing Amira & I had a light lunch because we ate 3 each (update: Amira just grabbed her 4th announcing “I love these!!”). They are tasty right off the heat with butter on top (although she prefers hers plain). They are, of course, definitely quinoa-flavored. You will be disappointed if you are expecting flour tortillas. We are quinoa fans here, so we find ‘em yummy! They are incredibly easy to make! I’m already plotting recipe variations (an herbed version maybe?) and uses (soft tacos, or made crispy for pizza crusts or tostadas?)

Thanks again to The Gracious Pantry for inspiring me to play in the kitchen today.

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This past Saturday marked the 5th week of our family being apart. What I’m going to share isn’t so much about this logistical hurdle (although it is too) but about matters of the spirit and mind. Paul & I have been living under the premise that life’s events are spiritual more than logistical. That’s what I’m going to be talking about.

Early last week, Paul & I had a lead on a temporary living situation for us. We would be taking over the last 3 months of a lease. It would give us 3 months of somewhere to live (without signing a 6 mo or 1 year lease) and the ability to search *together* for our new home. Everything looked good and then – it wasn’t. In our search, we are finding that in Southern California, pets are a real liability in finding a rental. This particular apartment complex doesn’t allow dogs over 25lbs. After talking with her, the apartment manager was okay with Tova, but had to get the final okay from her regional manager. The regional manager said no.  When Paul let me know that it wasn’t going to work, out of nowhere, tears sprang to my eyes.

Wha? Where did these come from? I wasn’t expecting that reaction. I had just told Paul the night before, because we weren’t certain this was the right move, that I wanted clear guidance saying yes or no to the plan. And, we got it. I didn’t think I had any attachment to the plan – but the tears streaming down my cheeks told me differently. I wrote a little blurb on Facebook: “Couldn’t hold back the tears. We thought we had a temporary housing situation that would allow Amira & me to move down and join Paul in Encinitas. I asked that if it wasn’t the right spot, that we wouldn’t get it. And we got a clear answer. It’s good. I didn’t think I was that attached, but obviously, I was. Letting the emotion be. And moving forward.”

Later that day, I got the email from Natalie. She said: “Hey. You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. In your position, I think I would be having many crying episodes. You are entitled.” When I read it – I thought: “Oh that’s so sweet, but I’m *not* putting on a brave face.” Wise and tender woman that she is, Natalie got it and me though. But, funny, it was me who didn’t get it or me yet. And I didn’t for another 4 1/2 days.

Today, I got an invitation from Natalie to plan for a grand adventure to go to the Maker Faire in mid-May.  My typical emotional guards must have been temporarily on the fritz because I felt a shiver and jolt of fear run through me. “I am afraid. What if Amira and I won’t be moved down there by then?” Then, as quickly as I felt the emotionally electric tremor, I quickly started stuffing it down. I started saying out loud to my self: “We are going to make this move happen before then. Of course, we are!” But the process happened just slowly enough, that I caught I was doing it. I think I caught it because of Natalie’s note last week.

Suddenly, I saw it. She was right. I was putting a brave face on it – although less for anyone else and more for myself. I believe in and continue to learn more about the power of our mind’s thoughts. Our thoughts shape who we are and how we see the world. I believe that the energy we create with our thoughts creates, transforms and shapes us first and our lives second. I’m committed to being a creative, positive woman. And while all these things are true, there is no need, no place for disowning what emotions I have. Emotions are just that. They rise and fall and make little to no sense. But they are an intrinsic part of my being human and to embrace and love the whole of myself, I have to embrace them. That doesn’t mean they run my life. They don’t alter my commitment. And squashing them is counterproductive.  What’s productive is accepting, acknowledging and transforming those emotions into chosen thought and action. My emotions are an ongoing invitation from Spirit to my spirit to see, hear, accept, learn from and evolve into being completely in alignment with love.

Paul often laughs at me because I feel like who I am and what I feel are always right there, waving in the wind for everyone to see. What I’m discovering is that the emotions that have been given my approval are indeed right there on the surface. The ones that haven’t been given my stamp of approval, well, even I’m not able to see them.  I am a ruthless censor of myself. So powerful and skilled at it, that I don’t even know I do it. I’ve created an internal landscape that hasn’t allowed certain emotions to be. I haven’t said: “Oh, hello sadness. There you are. I see you. Welcome.” or “Hello fear. I feel you. It’s okay. You can come out.” Why? Who knows the myriad of reasons. I would guess that they include at least a little bit of self-preservation, pride, shame, fear, embarrassment and more. Actually, it’s not a myriad of reasons is it? All of these, in their essence, are fear. So to say it plainly, I haven’t allowed my emotions because of fear.

I’ve been fascinated with word origins and meanings lately. Emotion comes from the Latin word emovere – which means to ‘move through or out.’ Fascinating, right? And yet, my well-honed internal superhero (that’s what it thinks it is) – The Squashanator! – is doing the exact opposite of  emotion is meant to do and what my spirit needs. I’m not moving anything through or out. It is suppressed and internalized, living deep in my mind and body — and certainly isn’t there creating health, vitality and joy.  Turns out The Squashanator I created to protect me from fear isn’t the superhero at all but instead is the very thing that keeps me from what I want most – healing, wholeness and limitless, unconditional love.

Peace Pilgrim talks about this: “Do not suppress it – that would hurt you inside. Do not express it – this would not only hurt you inside but cause ripples in your surroundings. What you do is transform it.”

How do I transform my emotion? I don’t really. At least, not exactly. Okay, then how do I transform what is created, the end result of, my emotion? With my thoughts! The emotion is an emotion. It’s not right or wrong. It just is. But what happens because of the emotion – well, that is determined by what we feed it with our thoughts. The emotions that I’ve censored up til now, I’ve made them wrong and unacceptable because of the thoughts and actions I habitually paired that emotion with. But, now, I can see that my emotions are transformed by my choosing the thoughts I want to go with them. Does that make sense to you? I hope so, because I’m getting that “it’s a whole new world” feeling as I write this!

I’ve experienced, in other emotional areas of my life, that when I do this the emotions change. Maybe not change, but rather “move though and out” faster and faster – until all I’m left with is the undeniable knowledge and peace brought by not the emotion – but the state of being of, with and one with Love.

PS – I just read an Eckhart Tolle quote today: “As far as inner transformation is concerned, there is nothing you can do about it. You cannot transform yourself, and you certainly cannot transform your partner or anybody else. All you can do is create a space for transformation to happen, for grace and love to enter.“‘

Thank you Natalie for creating the space for transformation for me… for allowing for and accepting the emotion that was there in me and for loving me.

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Today was amazing. There are pale blue skies and golden sunshine. The best of all was that there wasn’t just sun, but that it was gently warm sunshine. We worked through our morning with focused intent knowing that the parking was beckoning.  Then, school done, we stashed workbooks and shot out the door. The jacket I put on Amira, for prudence sake, was shed by the time we reached the park. It’s bliss shedding those layers. And have you noticed that a sunny, warm day can make you feel like you are on top of the world?

(Look at that, see the woman in shorts back there by the slide? She must have been feeling really giddy about the sun!)

The park was packed.  I would have been appalled if it wasn’t.  Everyone had bright smiles and spirits to match the sun’s mood. Well, except one 3 year old blond boy who was, poor kid, feeling very stormy! He was angry that gravity would not relent its rules for him. I can’t blame him, I’ve felt that way about the laws of nature and physics. I want to bend them myself from time to time. His daddy ultimately came to the rescue and provided enough distraction that allowed him to overlook gravity’s insult and enjoy his swing again.

Crocuses always remind me of my mom. She grew up in Montana and she said she always felt hope that winter would soon be over when she saw the first tips of the crocuses pushing out of the earth. I’ve never lived in harsh conditions like she grew up in. I can only imagine, after enduring month after month of unrelentingly cold and barren landscapes, the wild hope that something as rich and extravagant as blooming crocuses would offer.  As we walked the neighborhood, I felt an echo of what she must have felt.

Most of my readers are my friends and know what’s happening. But, for the random (and yet very welcome!) reader who is here – let me fill you in.  The Moments are moving from Portland, OR to Southern California. And two weeks ago, we shipped Paul down there. Okay, he flew and was far more comfortable than going freight would have been, I’m sure. He started his new job and is the designated tribe scout for us. We are excited for our move and the natives of our soon to be new homeland have been incredibly kind, generous and welcoming to Paul. Everything has been so fortunate, loving, beautiful and blessed. We are filled with deep anticipation and hope. And, we miss him. A lot! Everything has been perfect (both here and there)… and… we miss him. We aren’t sure exactly how long we will be apart and that makes missing him harder. We don’t have a countdown that we can look to. We don’t have a date that is marked with hearts and exclamation points. We can’t cross off the days. I console myself thinking of amazing military families that go months and years without loved ones.  I know it won’t be forever. But without that *day* that I can look forward to, in my tired and weak moments, I feel melancholy.

And then, today… crocuses!!

The crocuses are hope’s symbol. They are the first colors, the first tenderness strong enough to push through the cold, packed winter soil. They shout that what is promised is on its way! They remind me to be content in this moment and see the beauty, the wonder, the grace and the peace that are just waiting to rush over and fill my soul and mind. It’s all there, if I will quiet my pace, my overactive mind and look.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God’s handwriting – a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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We went to dinner tonight. As we pulled into our parking spot, I could see a young man sitting on the sidewalk and leaning against the building. I worried about our headlights being too bright in his eyes. Thankfully, his gaze was turned to the left of us. In an instant, I took in a variety of details about him. He was late 20′s and next to him, also leaning against the wall, was an enormous backpack. It was one of those huge ‘hiking-up-a-mountain’ backpacks.  In that same moment, I saw huddled in his arms a small black and white puppy. As I got out of the car, a college-aged guy walked past me and handed the man something curled in his fingers. For a split second, I thought it might be drugs. Then I heard the man with the puppy say: “I don’t mean to cause any trouble.” The college kid replied: “No trouble, man. God bless.”

I already knew that Amira was going to want to meet the puppy. To assess the situation, I walked over to the man as he sat back down on the ground. I said something like: “What a cute puppy!” He averted his gaze and looked to Paul. He said hello and asked Paul if he had any change. He explained that he needed money for food for the puppy. I asked if we could meet the puppy and he wordlessly, his eyes still avoiding mine, nodded his head.  I reached down to the obviously very shy puppy.  As I pet her soft head, I asked the dog’s name. He said he had her for four days and her name was Lunatic. In the course of our scatter shot back and forth conversation, I thought he had said he found her. I asked him about it and he hesitated, looking at me and then Amira. “I took her from a homeless man. (Quietly as an aside: I’m homeless too.) He was hitting her and I had no choice. I hit him, knocked him out, and took her.” He looked at Amira again and then to me: “I’m sorry.” Then he continued: “I didn’t have a choice. I just couldn’t stand to see what I saw. Now, I’m in over my head. But I couldn’t do anything else.”

He saw Paul reaching toward him to give a dollar or whatever he gave him. He put the puppy down and suddenly popped to his feet to accept it. The puppy sat on the cold sidewalk shivering. I instinctively picked her up. She flinched a bit and then slowly relaxed. I told Paul later that she behaved like a dog that had been abused. She shivered in my arms and leaned into me. Poor baby.

As I held his puppy, I asked the man his name. For the first time, his eyes slowly met mine as he replied, “Chris.” We told him our names and shook hands. He glanced at what Paul had given him and let a quick breath out and said: “I have enough now, thank you. I don’t mean to cause any trouble.” He looked embarrassed like he wanted to be out of our gaze. We wished him a good night and watched him heft his backpack onto his shoulders. I handed him the puppy and he disappeared around the corner headed for the pet store across the street.

We went inside for our dinner. We headed to the bathrooms to wash our hands after petting the dog (plus Amira’s sick). Once in the bathroom, while the warm water and soap ran over our hands, Amira asked me a string of questions:

• Why did the other homeless man hit the puppy? Why would he do that?
• Why did Chris hit the other homeless man?
• Couldn’t Chris have told him it was wrong to hit the puppy and asked him to stop?
• Wouldn’t that have been the better way to handle it?
• Why was Chris homeless?
• Will someone adopt Chris so that he will have a home?
• How can he get a home?
• Will he get a home?
• Will the puppy be okay?

So many honest and good questions from my 7 year old… and not easily answered. I attempted answers, but they weren’t the easy, complete and settled answers of so many of our shared Q&As. I realized, as we talked, that this new territory will be, more and more, our home as she observes the world with keener eyes. Realizing this, equal parts of me are panicked and rejoicing.

When Grandma’s and our house was broken into by thieves on Christmas Day, Paul & I knew we had to leave our family gathering and drive back to Portland. Muta, our cat, was missing and we had to go back in hopes of finding him and bringing him home safely. We chatted about how to share the news with Amira about the break-in and the fact that Muta was missing. We settled on being straightforward and without fear or drama. We sat her down and told her the news. She was momentarily shocked, then sad. But not completely for the reasons I had thought she would be. She didn’t want to leave the family before we had scheduled to leave. I told her I didn’t know what else we could do – because we needed to head back to increase our chances of finding Muta. She looked me in the eye and said: “I have a solution. You and Daddy can go and I’ll ride back home with Nana & Papa tomorrow on the same day we had planned on leaving.” Now, why hadn’t I thought of that? She had come up with the perfect answer to a question I hadn’t even formed in my own mind. Beautiful.

Turns out, as her mom… whose job it is to protect her, watch out for her, teach and guide her… it’s okay, perfect even, if I don’t have all the answers.

You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

–Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke

 

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I’m really tired. It’s only 10:20pm but my vision already has that blurry, out-of-focus thing going on. Tomorrow is Grandma’s move day. I’ve got some low-level nervous energy, despite the deep desire to curl up and sleep, about the remaining ‘day of packing’ to do list I have. We are going to have a small army of people and cars showing up tomorrow, and so I know everything will be covered. And still… niggles wriggle in my mind.

The walls are completely bare in most rooms and boxes are stacked neatly waiting for the moving crew. For those who have known Grandma’s house, it’s a profoundly strange sight. We shared our last dinner and evening with Grandma in her house.  We took a short moment to say thanks for the grace, love, and support given over the last (almost) year and a half to each other.  We enjoyed dinner as usual and with happy banter played a few hands of UNO together. There will be more dinners and more rounds of UNO… just not here and like this.

At Amira’s tuck-in – it was my turn to pray. I felt such deep gratitude for the lessons learned and the relationship built and I said so. Amira expressed sadness for GG (Amira’s nickname for her Great-Grandma) having to move and that she was going to miss having her here with us. She talked about moving in next door to GG at the assisted care apartment complex. We had to concede that GG’s soon to be neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate our bumping them out of their home. We had to remind Amira that we have many visits, shared dinners, playing games, and pool parties (there is a pool and families are welcome!) to look forward too.

Communal living changes you… from age 7 all the way to 92. It’s not always easy or fun, but it often is too… and it is most certainly stretching and deeply rewarding. There’s more to be said about this – but this will have to do for tonight.

This particular portion of our adventure is complete.  Tomorrow begins a new adventure for her and for us.

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I’m about to head back upstairs for day three of, one by one, pulling out, sifting and sorting through Grandma’s rooms. But before I do, I need to do a quickie brain dump. Warning: the quality of my writing and thoughts may reflect the speedy nature of this post.

So, first, yesterday was my friend Natalie’s (ChickenBlog!) birthday. I wish I could express to you how much I love Natalie – and how much she means to me. We’ve been friends since just before Amira was born. I have zero idea how the internet wove its magic and got her to my blog – but it did and I’m forever grateful. She has been a steady source of encouragement and inspiration to me. And even though I’ve only spent one visit with her (during our vacation this past October) – her place in my heart is permanent and dear. Natalie – I know this season has been a topsy-turvy, difficult and painful one – mixed in with the beauty and deep joy of an amazing family – incredible friends and seasonal delights. Happy Birthday, Natalie! Even though it wasn’t a giddy, slappy-happy day for you this year – and still, it was a day to commemorate, celebrate and embrace (for many reasons).  I love you.

Next, regarding Facebook. I posted a little while back on Facebook that I was leaving. Turns out, like most everything in life, I had to revisit that intention. So, instead of jumping the FB ship, I’m modifying how I do FB – but I will be staying. Why? Because I got a lot of feedback from friends saying “please don’t go” – “you contribute to me by being here” – and contributing to my community is what I want to do! There were two reasons I considered leaving… First, what I don’t want to do is have relationships that are only an inch deep and without the intent to specifically create something different – that’s what FB creates and supports. I want my relationships to have depth and breadth – that’s what I’m committed to. So, I’m seeing if it’s possible for me to do that deeper nurturing of my relationships while still spending some time on FB. And second, I don’t want to trade quotes, little snippets of inspiration that I see online for the work of diving in and following my own creative muse. My concern again, has been that I’ll have creativity and inspiration that’s only an inch deep… shallow. The instant gratification of social media makes it easier and tempting to not embrace the work of seeking and finding my muse. That kind of work requires a deeper and broader investment from me and FB is easy. Those are my concerns, but after hearing from and talking to my friends – I am looking to address my concerns without leaving FB altogether. I don’t know how it will work exactly – if you have any thoughts and suggestions – I’d love to hear ‘em!

Grandma: Working with Grandma on deciding what to take with her to her new home, what to leave in storage and what to throw out has been a crazy experience. The first thing I’m left with is Grandma’s courage in taking on this move and the choices she has had to make in preparation for it. It’s profoundly difficult for her to paw through her belongings, her closets and things. Even if the things don’t have huge meaning for her – it’s just the act of doing it that is real work for her. The tucked away items in the closets and drawers are just part of what has made it home…. her home. And now that those have been woken up, dusted off, assessed and evaluated — while sometimes it feels good to her – in the other moments it feels like deep loss. She expressed yesterday that she feels homeless. Her roots have been pulled from the earth of her home. They are strong but miss the soil. She is so strong and hard-working through this entire process. I’m inspired by her. Please send love and peace her way. Even in the midst of the chaos, upheaval and difficulty of this move, I believe the love and prayers that have been sent her way have strengthen her.

And now, blessings: So, it’s a little thing… but I am drinking a spinach, blackberry, banana smoothie right now! It’s all because Grandma had an old Hoover blender that she was going to give away because she doesn’t use or need it any longer. It took a little work (the blades were stuck from lack of use) – but it’s working!! What a gift! Blessing #2: We’ve been socked in with rain for quite a few days and this morning – it’s frosty and SUNNY! Thank you, sunshine! Blessing #3: Our tree is still vibrant and beautiful. I’m still soaking in the beauty of the lights. Blessing #4: My life is a blessing. That’s redundant really. Life = blessing. And my life IS a blessing! I’m surfing on gratitude this morning.

Thoughts? Feedback? And what’s happening with you? I’d love to know.

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We made the decision to not have a tree this year. We had logical reasons. 1) We are visiting family for Christmas. 2) Trees are expensive-ish and we have a lot of priorities for our money, 3) “dressing up” the basement for Christmas seemed sort of like the ol’ lipstick on a pig kind of thing. I was sad about it but it made sense.  I set aside my disappointment and figured… next year.

Then last week, Grandma started talking about an evergreen tree that has been sitting in a plastic bucket in her back yard for quite a few years. She won it at some event she attended.  She brought it home and, not sure what she wanted to do with it, just put it in the back corner of her yard.  She never found a home for it in her garden – so it sat in the bucket overlooked and forgotten, year after year. This year though, Grandma decided, once and for all, the tree didn’t belong in her garden and that she wanted to get rid of it. She asked Paul if it would work as a Christmas tree in her house. Paul & I looked it over and declared it a decidedly “un-Grandma-worthy” tree. A gangrel tree, it’s too big and awkward for her living room. It is misshapen.  Its branches are misplaced… too short here and much too long there. It has a big dent on the bottom half. This tree is one of those trees that the tree lot attendants will sell you cheap on Christmas Eve because it has been passed over for 4 weeks straight.

So, then the question was, did we want it? I hesitated wondering if it was worth Paul’s effort of cutting down the tree and hauling it down into our basement. But since it would be getting cut down and chopped into pieces anyway – I figured, why not! So Paul & Amira made an adventure of going into the backyard and cutting down our own Christmas tree. We hauled it in and put it in the stand.

It stands a little cockeyed – the trunk didn’t grow straight. The top half has grown tilted and makes the tree look as if its rushing towards you. But I’ll tell you… it smells heavenly. The green is lush and it brings a warm festivity to our space.

I’m coming to believe white lights are magic. They make dark and dim sparkle. They make the ordinary something more!

Muta was mesmerized by the tree and the decorating process. He absolutely approves of the tree! He loves curling up on the tree skirt and watching the world from his tree. I think he harkens back to his wild ancestors under that tree – remembering what it was to skulk and watch his prey unseen – but is too comfortable and domesticated to actually do anything but fondly reminisce.

These are fuzzy photos – but you can see the holiday spirit of joy and happiness this tree has brought us!

I’m so grateful for our unexpected tree!

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Love is a state of Being. Your love is not outside; it is deep within you. You can never lose it, and it cannot leave you. – Eckhart Tolle

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Today has been filled with varying doses of disappointment and sadness. I came across this and found it helpful. It doesn’t alter how I feel – but it is changing how I see.

Coping With Disappointment by Eric Butterworth

I love the story Charles Edison, former Gov. of New Jersey, tells of his father, Thomas Edison. He says in 1914 when the Edison Industries of West Orange, New Jersey were practically destroyed by a great fire, most of Edison’s life work was going up in flames. So the young man, concerned, looked about for his father and he finally came upon him. The man’s face was ruddy in the glow of the flames. He wrote, “My heart ached for him, no longer a young man, everything being destroyed.” Then he says, “My father spotted me and he called out, ‘Charles, Charles, run get your mother. She will never see anything as beautiful as this fire as long as she lives.’”

So, even in its destructiveness, Edison saw the beauty of the fire because, you see, he was a researcher. He’d spent all of his life learning how to cope with disappointment. The next morning, walking about the charred embers of all of his dreams, Edison said, “There’s great value in disaster because all of our mistakes are burned out. Thank God we can start again!” Three weeks later the Edison Company delivered the first phonograph.

You might say, “But Edison was an unusual man. He was different. He was special.” Or, we say of Jesus, “But he was the son of God.” But Jesus said, “All that I do you can do too.”

Each of us has the God potential within to rise above any and all disappointment. In life you will have many trying times but there is a tremendous capacity within us to rise above any situation, any challenge, any limitation. Always we must know that if I’m discouraged or disappointed it’s not because of what happened, it is a result of my own consciousness, my own negative awareness. You can decide that you’re going to meet all things from the highest possible perspective. Your job is not to “set” things right but to “see” them right.

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After our day of school was complete, Amira & I headed to the park. There was sun and we had to take advantage. The strange thing was how close it felt to sunset at 3:15 in the afternoon. These short days are just so… short.

The weather felt past fall. The chill didn’t just nip, it bit! There was a fog floating on the air. It has been only 4 or 5 days since we last went to the park. Yet, half the trees that had been covered in fall decor now stand bare and exposed.

The park, when we first arrived, was empty. I can’t blame folks. It was darned cold. In a while though, we did get to visit and play with some well-bundled folks and their kids. Everyone positioned themselves as much as they could in the sun’s fading glow. But it wasn’t long before we all had to give in to fog’s chill settling in our bones and go home.

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On our way home from our vacation of perfection – we were able to see the sunset on Mount Shasta. We drove past Mount Shasta in the dark on the way down and I was so sad to only see (barely) its outline against the dark sky. So, getting to see it lit up by the sunshine was amazing. I’ve always feel a happy, buzzy kind of energy when I’m near the mountain.

Speaking of happy, buzzy energy, my parents are in their car zipping down I-5 towards Portland and us!! I can’t spend much time here because I need to finish getting ready for their arrival… It’s unfortunate because I have no less than three blog posts flying around in my head today. There are photos and experiences that I want to share. I will though. Soon.

Have a happy day all.

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Transitions are a bit tough on me. When I make a decision, I want to launch into it… like now! And, just about every decision, especially major decisions, require transition time. Even so, when Paul & I made the decision to move to Southern California, all my energy balled up and was ready to uncoil and spring into immediate change making!

But, almost a month after our decision was made, here we still are. Life is moving and behaving just like it did before we made the decision. And that’s because there are things to be considered. Transition plans need to be determined and then implemented. Applications need to be submitted and a new job is yet to be found. And, of course, there is a new Moment family home to be found. Paul has his fulltime freelance workload to manage, plus job hunting to do. So while he is ever bit as much excited about change as me… transition time is a necessity. I know it is. But. Still.

My focus has turned toward our new home. I freely admit I’m fantasizing about our new home. Having lived in a mostly unfinished basement for over a year – an honest to goodness home sounds GLORIOUS. I get giddy thinking about a house with a front door to welcome friends and family into. I am excited thinking about an honest-to-goodness real kitchen… with an stove top, oven, cabinets for dishes and maybe even a dishwasher. I think about windows – big, full-size windows with light streaming in… where Muta can stretch out and bathe in the sunshine. I get emotional thinking about bedrooms with doors… and most especially a little girl’s bedroom for Amira. A bedroom that is entirely hers with decorations, her toys and treasures and a desk (she’s deeply craving a desk). And did I mention a bathtub? Okay, I don’t want to completely fall apart on you, but a bathtub… for this water-loving Piscean… well, to imagine that and all these riches in one place called home – almost seems too much! My heart overflows it. So, transitions be damned, I’m looking, watching… okay stalking Craigslist. We don’t have a timeline yet – but I can’t help it. I have some very specific requests of the universe. All the above, AND… We want to be near our dear friends… likely neighborly close. We want to be in a particular school district. And I am dreaming of all of these things together in one big, perfect, happy package wrapped in a bow… for us.

Tonight, while searching on Craiglist (no, really, I can stop anytime if I wanted to…) – I read an ad describing what sounds and looks like the *perfect* place. It could be on the exactly right neighborhood, on the exactly right street, with the exactly right size and amenities, and available at what could be the exactly right time. I got breathless. I read it to Paul and said: “Should I contact them?” And he said, “But we aren’t ready yet.”

And with that, I felt all hoardy. I wanted it. I felt panicky like I needed to somehow gobble it up and keep it safe for us. I was afraid that it would get taken by another family before we are ready. I was afraid the perfect place wouldn’t be available when we are ready. And then what would I do?

And then two things happened simultaneously. Paul said : “The perfect house will be ready and waiting for us when we are ready for it.” – and I heard and felt my… *fear*. Remember my breathlessness? I allowed my fear to steal my very breath away. So I took a deep breath (and I’m taking another as I type this). Choosing to release the fear, I remembered that all is well. All is well! And, how perfect that day before yesterday, Amira shared with me that Three Little Birds by Bob Marley has been stuck in her head. Not an accident that.

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Amira & I went to the park yesterday. I had heard that it was going to be our last day of sun for a while. (I’m secretly hoping the updated forecast saying there will be sunshine on Friday turns out to be truth.) So, in preparation for what could be several days shut inside our basement abode with 12″ windows and no sunshine… I cut Amira’s school time short and declared: “Time to go to the park!! Let’s go!!” And of course, optioned with more school lessons or play time at the park – my girl choose wisely!

Off to the park we marched!

I haven’t carried my camera with me for well over a year now. I snap photos on my Android here and there – but I had given up my SLR. It wasn’t until I spent a few days with ChickenBlogger, Natalie – that a felt the depth of what I’ve been giving up. It was a form of letting my creativity off the hook. If my photos were lackluster, I could easily say to myself: “eh – it’s a camera phone…” In addition, I’d given up my exploration of my own surroundings and happenings in my life. Having the camera in hand opens not only my creative eye, but my heart as well. I engage with, take in and review my life more intimately. It’s valuable work.

So, yesterday, with freshly charged batteries and a determination to not let another day go by – I packed my SLR with me to the park. I decided on the way, that I wanted to look at the park from an alternative perspective than I usually do. I’ve been to the park so many times and snapped so many photos there – I knew my temptation would be to not *see* it. So, I purposely worked at looking… differently.

I felt internal hesitation to begin with. But, as Amira played, I tipped my head this and that way. I leaned down or looked up.

And as I did so, I found myself filling with joy and overflowing creative energy. I was seeing! I was a little embarrassed… knowing just how long I had walked right next to all of this without having seen it. There were open portals everywhere I looked – inviting me into the mystery. Portals that promised exploration, freedom and delight – all offered to me for the easy admission fare of simply opening my eyes.

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