my day

It's Thanksgiving day and I have a turkey breast in the oven complete w/ stuffing and a pecan pie. My dad and mom will come by later and bring potatoes, cranberry sauce and "the green jello"... it will only be the three of us, but that's okay... I think I'll stick a log in the fireplace, it rained today, excuse enough to build a fire in Arizona...

I'm turtle sitting! And here he is, Lucky, the African turtle. My car pool buddy raises them. She has two really large ones that live outside, but they gang up on this guy so he can't get into the heated shed at night ... and she has little ones that live in an aquarium until they are big enough to not be bird food. Lucky gets moved in and out every day. At night he lives in a box in her bathtub, during the day he is out. I'm doing the same for him... look at him, isn't he a beauty?
I tried to get the glisten of the sunlight on the raindrops... it thundered here around 1 pm and dumped a bunch of rain, but in true Arizona style, the sun came out immediately after and the raindrops looked like thousands of diamonds on the leaves and buds... breathtaking!

Earlier today I took the grandsons to the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Fountain Hills. The parade wasn't quite as big as the year before... I think the rain kept some of the entrants at home... but P and W enjoyed it just the same and waved at every entry that went by, called out Happy thanksgiving, and scrambled for the candy that was thrown.

W. used to be such a sweet boy... but anymore he only wants to do these fierce faces... because he's a Ninja, you know.

Sitting on the parade route with Fountain Hills lake and palm trees in the distance... this is the time of year we are so thankful to live in the desert. (Lou, don't you wish you had had the sweats W has on? You always wanted to be a skeleton...)

Other than this, I have been thinking about status. I finally got around to establishing a trust and one of the questions was whether I was single or divorced... this always bugs me since I don't feel either... divorced sounds like such a looser status and single is a word that swings quite a bit more than I do... can't I be just unmarried but open to all of life's possibilities? Or person of independent means? Or grown woman? Something that really describes my situation...

I told Bill(who won't be here for Christmas) that L was bringing new friend home and that Katie was concerned about a Christmas stocking... I mentioned I would just give the new guy his. Bill objected saying he wasn't ready to give up his Christmas sock yet... then he said the new guy could use his but that it should say "boyfriend" with the suggestion that he might be able to upgrade to a permanent sock at another Christmas gathering. Wonder what Bill's sock should say, un-boyfriend?

My parents will be here in 20 minutes... they are never late and I still need to clean off the dining room table!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Things I have to remember

busy day today... didn't go to work, but busy none the less, doctor appointments, dentist appointments... and while I was buzzing around enjoying not being at school I began to make a list of things that work and don't work in my life. I need to remember this...

What doesn't work:

Trying... trying definitely does not work, never has, never will... though I have spent 85% of my life trying... trying is a total waste of time and I am really going to attempt (not try) to never tell a child he/she should try harder ever again.

Rephrasing the question... never works. Believe me, if you ask a question clearly and get an answer you don't care to hear, stating it differently does no good at all. Know when to quit!

Pushing... pushing or prodding may seem to work for a while, but it will backfire. What happens, happens... you just cannot change flow because you wish to.

Controlling things... I met a lady who gave up trying to control her husband for Lent... note that she was doing two things that don't work... trying and controlling.. we know better, we all know better, but we forge on.

What does work:

Smiling... it is nearly magical... and I forget to do it all the time.

Seeing the world as perfect... one day I practiced seeing every child who walked through my classroom as Jesus... it was amazing.

Sending love... same as above

Being happy, having a heart filled with joy... it is infectious isn't it?

Hard work... hard work is not the same as trying... hard work may be hard but it doesn't carry the same stress... I have worked hard, physically, mentally, and felt this good sense of accomplishment during the entire process... trying feels completely different.

I'm ready for a world that works for me... maybe if I just remember what works and practice it, things will come around.

perfect

look at this perfect stack... balanced for the moment... serene and beautiful... oblivious to any danger.

last night I told the story of sitting in the steam room at the gym and forcing myself to see my daughters as perfect just the way they were (the teen years had been tough)... of after that practicing seeing them as perfect as often as I could... and how something changed... me or them, I was never sure... but that shift made everything better.

I've practiced this form of seeing every so often since. With my children, with the students, with people I know... but I've never practiced it on me. I've never stopped and said to myself, "you are perfect just the way you are and when you change, that will be perfect, too."

I have writer's block and artist's block and general social skills block right now and I have been struggling with it but at this moment, I think I need to switch my thinking and not just relax into it, but really see this a temporary state of still-perfection... I need to love this person with no words and no art... I need to do for myself what I would willing do for others.

Gee, I am feeling better already.

goodbye, bogey man

I am always surprised and dismayed when I run into fear... the kind of fear that polarizes some and sends others running to hide.

I've been lucky. I haven't had to experience enough fear in my life (other than mice) to have a deep fight or flight mechanism. I was never abused, battered, or put down enough to create any permanent scars. And although I can get caught up in worry - another senseless activity - I am very seldom afraid.

Most fear is shadow anyway. Not real when you give it a closer look. Most fear will flea when you turn and look at it squarely, will hide when you open your heart to embrace it... so I am left bamboozled when I encounter someone else's fear... when I encounter a fear that might have some basis in their life experience. A fear founded in some region I have never had to inhabit.

I have to let them voice it, right? I have to sit in silence as they wrestle their own demons, find their own truth. My job, I feel, is to remain present. To witness. I can't discount it. I can't rationalize it away. I can't in any way make them think I find their fear silly or unimportant, it is not. So I listen, and as I listen I realise I need to guard myself from taking on their fear, from sliding myself inside it. I have to listen, but I also have to see what they are saying for what it is. Fear, not truth.

Threats of assassination heard repeatedly sound like truth if that is all you hear. Confederate flags hung unrepentantly amongst Budweiser signs send clear messages to those attuned to that type of thing. Ignorance and hate is enough to scare the crap out of anyone.

This morning that fear still clung to me, and when I watched Meet The Press, I watched them closely to see if I could see any fear on their faces, any sense that they were waiting for the shoe to drop. There was no indication they expected anything but a new president in January... I began to feel better. It was a shadow, not a certainty.

Joy Harjo writes in I Give You Back

I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now I don't know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of my
children.

You are not my blood anymore.

I give you back to the soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.

I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.

I release you.
I release you.
I release you.
I release you.

I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved

to be loved, to be loved, fear.

O, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me, but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.

I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't hold you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice,
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart

But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid
of dying.

From She Had Some Horses... one of my favorite books of poetry.