I am a mom....and more.

I am a mom.  The statement renders either connection or distance.  Despite that it is a part of who I am, a part of how I experience womanhood.  I question it.  I question myself within it, as a mother- am I doing my children right?  I question how to bring it up with people.  I am proud of my children, but wonder if I talk to little or too much, when will the eyes of others glaze over thinking about a more exciting thing than just this mom talking about her kids.  Just your mom talking proudly about you.  My life flew out the door replaced by nights of tending to another human being.  Days of purpose replaced by tending to another human being.  Those persons will grow up, and someday bless me or curse me, that I can only control so much.  I am a mom.  Giving, loving, hoping, empty, starving, searching.

I wrote this to explore womanhood meeting motherhood meeting the world.  I have wanted to express a somewhat darker side of motherhood.  Granted there are intricate, fragile, beautiful moments raising children, but despite that there is a deeper side always wondering how to juggle the roles of woman, mother, friend, lover, and I truly believe it is a disservice to women and mothers to not acknowledge the joys along with the struggles.  It is a conversation of self worth in the light of daily life, and looking into the future. 

 I AM A MOM

I am a mom.

Distance

Connection

Glazed over eyes

I see you fading away

Questions

Questions

Questions

Will I fail

Or

I will fail

Never enough

And always too much

I am a mom.

Strength meets weakness

Hope dances with struggle

Sleepless nights

Bring on the

Unending days

Of

Questions

Questions

Questions

How do I give enough

Or

Do I have enough to give

I am a mom.

I am proud,

Do I talk too much

Or too little?

Blessings and curses

May come my way

But I cannot undo who I am

What I am

What I have become

Giving

Loving

Hoping

Searching

Starving

Wanting

To connect

With someone

Someone

Over the age of 5.

I am a mom.

Call me

Text me

Take me out

I cannot take another day

Of

Questions

Questions

Questions

Push me forward

Let me be

Who I was

And

Who I am

That I cannot be

I am someone

Someone

New

I am a mom.

Cleansing

As I look through this blog, I can't believe it's been almost 11 months since my last post.  It's not that I haven't been writing, it's that I haven't been sharing it.  Seeing where I was mentally a year ago, I feel like I have just walked out of a cave and into the bright sunlight.  A little disorientation followed by an overwhelming sense of reckless abandon to leave the safety of the cave I have dwelled in the past year I feel the winds of change coming our way again.  I cannot live without it.  I am not stagnant, I thrive on being a nomad in life.  As this becomes more apparent, I finally see why all my attempts to become something, to be someone, have faltered.  Never wanting to be boxed in, but always seeking to find a box to climb in myself I have walked down so many roads to figure out who I am supposed to be.

I did a liver cleanse a month ago, to shed some toxins and find some physical revival.  And I did.  I finally saw the release of not only 10lbs of baby weight that all my attempts had done nothing for, but also the release of anxiety, and a clearing of my mind.  I found it a little hard to believe.  The amount of energy I suddenly had, while eating only vegetables and fruit, was astounding.  And my whole being thanked me.  It reminded me of what fasting in various spiritual traditions aims to accomplish.  I have avoided fasting in the past since most of the time I understood my motive was more physical than spiritual, and so not being able to reconcile that I simply didn't do it.  But entering it as a cleanse, as a purely physical attempt to manage some symptoms I didn't expect to then find a mental, emotional, and spiritual renewal.   And in moving on past the symptoms, I began to see life a little more clearly.  For the first time in my 31 years here I understood I did not have to choose a path to walk forever.  I did not have to be this or that and commit myself to one vocation.  In fact, I could do all the things I have ever wanted to do all in one lifetime.  I know, I'm a late bloomer when it comes to seeing something like this, but as they say, better late than never.  So, now, going back to all those paths, all those boxes, I find freedom where I had found anxiety.  I can be a photographer, a writer, a nutritionist, a health professional, I can follow these paths simultaneously and embody the whole of me.

You might be thinking, 'What? Since when did you want to be a health professional?'.  Well, since a month ago.  Actually, since I was a teenager, but it's been a long, convoluted road to get to the point of accepting that.   And I still feel uncertain.  I'll try to share my story in a quick sort of way.  My son was born into trauma, into a life that has been marked by health issues.  It has been a never ending battle for me to keep it together for him, but I have been blessed in many ways in this situation.  One, that it is not as bad as it could be, as we were warned it would be, and two that I have walked this journey flanked by numerous health professionals (physical therapists, doctors, naturopaths, nutritionists, and physcologists) who have been my guiding angels.  They have brought me perspective, healing treatments, even diagnoses that have led to more healing.  They have walked through the darkness with me.  And this is one cave I stand on the other side of, I find my son to be healthy.  Sure, he gets sick in the winter and to keep him healthy we live in a strange world of gluten/dairy/sugar free-ness.  So after seeing this, after walking so long with these type of people, I realize I want to be one of them.  I'm not scared of this darkness anymore, I have walked it and have jumped into a completely different way of living than I thought possible and it is good.

It is good not just for my son, it is good for all of us.  We eat less processed food, we cook our own food with little sugar and salt and much flavor.  I now find that when I eat too much of those foods my circulation decreases, my hands get numb and swollen and suddenly that energy I worked so hard to rediscover disappears.  As we see more and more gluten free options pop up in grocery stores and resturants we know we are not alone in this, there is a growing understanding that much of what we put in our mouths and pass off as food, is not so.  And so, I have seen not only physical health with eating food packed with nutrients, I have seen emotional health and mental health improve also for both my son and myself.  It is astounding and if my story can bring that to anyone else then I am glad I have lived it out as faithfully as possible.

This past year has been one of releasing, of growing, and of cleansing.  This next year will be one of learning, of more growing, and hopefully a continued sense of walking in the light....I'll let you know how it goes.

Shaping Contours

It's so easy to get distracted, swept away with every little whim, mine or that of my two little followers, that I forget that I am shaping a world. Every day my hands, heart, and mind work hard to shape a world that will speak life into the hands, hearts, and minds of my children. Some days it falls into place like a dream, other days we batter against each other like the tide coming into shore. It's natural to emotionally smash up against anyone we surround ourselves with on a 24/7 basis, if we didn't test and retest each other's boundaries and capacities for love, forgiveness, mercy, and grace then we would be lacking in truly knowing each other, but there are days we need rest from this to regather, refocus, and re-energize.

So days like today, a day of swinging in the snow where we were alone at the playground, the only ones to venture out of the house while the mini snowballs rained down from the sky, are days of peace. The snow didn't stick to the ground or pile up to reach back into the clouds, but it reminded me of landscapes where it does just that. Places where the contours of the land are filled in, made shapeless and smooth with a creamy covering. That's what makes snowfall so quiet and peaceful, it's as if the world knows that for the time being the ups and downs will all even out.

My soul responded to today's snow much like the rest of creation, the things that cause the mountains and valleys in my life and in my relationships evened out, covered up with the joy of a changing landscape. I know there are some people who don't like change, who shrink back the minute life throws an unexpected turn, but I am not one of them. Instead, I wrap my kids up in their warmest gear and go to the park to swing toward the change. What that brought to us was a day where I could stop shaping my world, stop adding new contours to our family and let the world shape us and lend us some of it's wisdom of rest and acceptance of what life has to offer. Undistracted and newly formed, it was a lovely day.

New Year..New You?

You may be wondering what we have been up to since the beginning of December. While life has felt hectic, it's been amazing to be the adults of the family, getting to create the mood for the holidays and focusing our attention on what we feel is important while also bringing a season of joy to our home. Anticipation was ripe and we celebrated fully.

New Year's eve was spent clamming on the Pacific Ocean. For those of you who are not familiar with hunting clams, it goes something like this. On a day when the tide is being sucked out to sea, leaving stretches of unseen and untouched sand we all head out to the ocean to dig in that sand for clams. Around 200 people joined us on a frigid day, all with their respective gear, warm hats, boots, nets, and clam guns. A clam gun uses suction to bring up a block of sand. We then dig for the clam in the sand and sometimes chase them down the hole we have created (see the photo!). It can be rather exhilirating and addictive, sort of like the 'bonk the mole' game at Chuck E Cheese.

Our time was short and being such a cold day, we were disappointed when our son was knocked over by an unexpected wave and drenched to the core. The only part of this we had anticipated was being prepared enough to have several changes of clothing. Unfortunately this did not suffice enough to make him feel safe again and he spent the time running from each wave that approached his 4 foot radius. Our little girl went from the hiking pack, where she was being buffeted by the wind into the stroller so I could park her back to the cold breeze. I had taken my camera and had relished photographing the clammers on the beach, each with their own technique to gather as many clams as they could as quickly as possible. The air was crisp, the sky provided an amazing backdrop as the sun sunk beyond the horizon, and despite the chill I was glad this would be my last adventure of 2010.

A new year to many means trying to find a better you. Resolutions are set and hopes are pinned on evolving into a stronger, smarter, more well off individual. I don't know how many blogs I have come across putting forth new goals, more organization. Ours is a culture of bigger and better unfulfillable notions. Of course, as Americans, we strive and try to reach that goal that so few reach. As we celebrated the new year simply clamming, grabbing some fish and chips to eat in the car on the long drive home, I found myself looking forward, wanting to push myself into setting goals, looking for a purpose to drive me through the next year. Lose the last of the baby weight, get to running every day, have activities ready for the kids, find your vocation, make something of yourself, it all pounds down day after day and I am to the point in life where I am finally questioning this. I think I always have, but have also always stepped back into the expectations set out and not had the courage or words to name it.

So I find myself wishing for a different path, one that walks past the striving, bypasses the duty and walks into peace. Peace is the only English word I can come up with that speaks to what I am seeking. It may take more words than that. Words such as contentment, but more than that, fullness, living rich, depth, it's more of a picture I carry in my mind that encompasses words, emotions, environment, attitude that is beyond what I can explain. So this year for me is less about working toward a new, better me, and more about defining this image I have carried for so long. Becoming me, not more than me, not less, but truly who I am and creating a life that reflects that. I feel the truth of this when I find myself on a windswept cliff or beach, the breeze brushing off any remnants doubting myself and bringing in a freshness that fills my being. And so, 2010, you were cruel to many, we had our own difficulties this year too. I am glad to move on, but hope not to lose sight of what I have learned this past year as the journey continues and always will each step defining and redefining us.

It's Christmas time in the city...

Sitting in the living room, admiring our newly lit tree, and feeling all cozy...can it really be Christmas time again? We held a Christmas pageant, went to see Santa, hung the stockings, and decorated the tree. The traditions are rich, the years have imprinted them on our souls and into our hearts. This time of year is ripe with nostalgia, hope for the future, and meandering through the past. And now we begin to imprint new beings, new souls with the traditions. And with the onslaught of consumerism knocking at our door, the songs singing love to Santa and hope for presents we look and search to remind ourselves and our children of why our family celebrates Christmas. And the riches we seek are far greater than any tradition or boutique can offer.

Sitting around our home is a wonderful book of poems by a woman who I believe has taken the story of our world and woven from it new stories and images that speak to the core of my heart. I have read some of her fiction, the Wrinkle in Time series, and fell in love with her scientific views of the soul. She intertwines science, faith, mystery, and fantasy so well and her poetry also reflects that. So I'm going to share a poem, more like a short story, of hers that spoke to me regarding this season we are upon, this season of gifts. It's not really a nativity poem, it speaks less of the holy one born and more of the state we find ourselves in as human beings. And in a year where war is still waging, where the hungry stay hungry, where children are dying, and the earth itself is heaving, my soul looks as does the woman in the poem, looks for the balance to shift. I am reminded of what I am celebrating this Christmas season, not just the birth of God incarnate, that's said so flippantly, but what I want to get at is beyond celebrating a birthday, it's more, it's recognizing the coming of the kingdom of heaven, it's redemption of humanity. And so we wait in a world that is still full of cruelty, we hold our breath with a hoping only made possible by this birth we celebrate, hoping for the world to be made new.

Here is it, by Madeleine L'Engle, Eve.

When we left the garden we knew it would be forever.

The new world we entered was dark and strange. Nights were

cold.

We lay together for warmth, and because we were afraid

of the un-named animals, and of the others: we had never

known about the giants, and angels gone wild. We had not been

told

of dwarves and elves; they teased us; we hid whenever they played.

Adam held me. When my belly grew taut and began to swell

I didn't know what was happening. I thought it was the beginning

of death, the very first death. I clung to Adam and cried.

As I grew bigger something within me moved. One day I fell

and the pains started. A true angel came and pushed the grinning

creatures back. Adam helped. There was tearing. I thought I'd

died.

Instead, from within me came a tiny thing, a new creature,

red-faced, bellowing, mouth groping for my breast.

This was not death, but birth, and joy came to my heart again.

This was the first-born child. How I did laugh and sing!

But from this birth came death. He never gave me any rest.

And then he killed his brother. Oh, my child. Oh, my son Cain.

I watched from then on over every birth,

seeing in each babe cruelty ready to kill compassion.

For centuries the pattern did not change. Birth always meant death.

Each manchild who was born upon the longing earth

in gratefulness and joy brought me only a fresh ration

of tears. I had let hate into the world with that first breath.

Yet something made me hope. Each baby born

brought me hurrying, bringing, as in the old tales, a gift

looking - for what? I went to every slum and cave and palace

seeking the mothers, thinking that at least I could warn

their hearts. Thus perhaps the balance might shift

and kindness and concern replace self-will and malice.

So I was waiting at that extraordinary intersection

of Eternity and Time when David's son (Adam's too)

was born. I watched the Incarnate at his mother's breast

making, by his humble, holy birth the one possible correction

of all that I by disobedience had done. I knelt and saw new

Adam, and I cried, "My son!" and came at last to rest.

An Artist's Mind

Artists minds intrigue me. They set the bar for thinking outside the box. Somehow they tend to see the world in a way that the rest of the population doesn't and then they create something magical for the rest of us to engage with. I've always wondered why that is, why a certain person is able to express a vision of reality so far from what I tend to live in. One day, I was listening to NPR and they were talking about a piano composer who has a rare condition called synesthesia. With this neurological 'condition' her brain actually associates each note with a hue of color. She not only hears notes, she hears colors. She's not making up colors to go with her music, she's not putting something on to be more than she is, it's just how her mind works. And I finally got it. Not to say that all artists have neurological conditions, but it finally dawned on me that each artist who is creating something boundless and beyond reality, really does see the world with an amazing twist. They aren't trying to come up with something artistic, or even edgy, they are simply putting substance to what is in their mind. Life may be full of sound, or light, they may see more colors, or feel more textures. Whatever it is that inspires them, they create a world for the rest of us to ponder, where we can begin to see our world in a new way too. That expression is bold. It suddenly isn't just a painting, or a song, it is instead the laying bare of a person's soul to show us something new.

I heard a few new songs this week, some Christmas songs from an inspiring musician. He released 3 songs online, none of them like any Christmas music I have heard as of yet. Instead of the bright, flourescent music reminiscent of department store shopping, his songs wore a fleshier note, a little less flashy and a bit more like what I imagine the birth of a baby in a barn to be like, and not just any baby, but one who holds the realms of humanity and spirituality in his soul. Mysterious, insightful, and thoughtful the songs drew me into a different place. A new, slower paced season full of love for each other. Less Santa Claus, more coming in from the snow for some hot cocoa. You can check it out yourself at aaronstrumpel.com.

And so, now inspired, I am setting out to find more artwork, music, new places that bring me beyond my reality and into a new one. Ways to see the soul of humanity, the realms of divinity, and the realities of other minds laid out for all to peruse. If you find someone who has inspired you, please let me know so I can check them out too.

Taking Steps

3 weeks ago we started our son in swim lessons. It's his 3rd session, at the same level, and we are suddenly beginning to see improvement, an urge to swim. So tonight he donned his swimsuit and he and I headed to the pool. The lesson was held in the shallow end of the pool where all the kids could touch the floor. As they huddled together on the stairs, their little bodies shivering with the chill of the air and the excitement of beginning the lesson, my mind went back to those times in my own life when I could hardly contain myself from running around excited about this or that. Those moments of joy and wonder at the greatness of the world and the adventure. Taking in that breath of fresh life I wondered at the times in life that I still find that, times when life seems brand new all over again. As a mother, I think I often let myself experience that joy through my children and forget that I too can find those moments when life feels like it is expanding beyond what my experience and psyche can handle.

This evening I watched as my son retrieved rings from the bottom of the pool, a surprise to all of us. The joy and the pride that lit upon his face was magical. He looked around to see if anyone had actually seen what he had just done. And suddenly he was dunking himself underwater seeing how long he would last, testing this new thing against himself and deciding what he was capable of. It was amazing to see it happen, learning visibly lived out in front of me. I felt like I was looking in on Newton and the apple, discovering gravity. It's a process that we so often lose as adults. In childhood, teen years, or if you're lucky, you won't experience this until adulthood, we decide or are told that we should be good at something from the first time we publicly try it. We can practice all we want at home, but once in public, we should have it down. And then the joy of the learning process disappears. Without encouragement, our children can lose their boldness to the wide world of perfection. How sad to see a change from joy and testing and accomplishing and to instead see fear and trepidation. While we can't always control that or blame ourselves if that happens, we can keep our eyes open. Open to the possibilities, open to what is happening in our child's life, and even open to modeling a life full of testing, failure, and accomplishment in front of them. It's something I myself may have to be re-taught by my children, and then holding onto that process my life can reflect the joy of learning back to them.

It was not only my son who caught my eye, but another little boy. He began the lesson standing beside the pool. The look in his eyes was wary of even touching the water. Back and forth the instructor slowly included him in the games they were playing and soon a toe dunked itself in the pool. Then a step, then sitting on the steps...still unsure if he would join in. But the end of the night he had found his courage and was in the pool walking around and somewhat enjoying himself. It was inspiring. My heart wanted to stand up and applaud him and acknowledge the steps he had taken to enter into life. And I left wondering what it would be like if we applauded each other in every day life more often. If, when we see a friend take a step toward something new, dip a toe in, maybe fall in only to gasp for air, but to begin the process of seeing themselves and exploring how they want to live life and instead of silently standing by we encouraged them, hoped for them, and applauded even the little steps. I hope at the end of my life I have found myself and my family surrounded by people who live together in a world that is always expanding, a world that feels new and full of potential.

We are cynical folks here in the city and we don't usually like to admit that we don't know or haven't experienced everything, but that cynicism holds us back keeping us from stepping out, finding our courage, and swimming into all the potential we have. My goal has always been to be in the pool swimming instead of relishing looking down at the water full of excitement and joy at what could happen. So here we stand, our family, looking down into the future, we have goals and dreams, but right now we are wary and unsure of what each step will bring. And I've been given a lesson, by two children, on courage, joy, and experiencing the process of growth. I guess I will follow their lead. It might be a tiptoe or a leap, but here we go, we're taking steps.