If I learned about English/American speech in 2011, I learnt about English/American spelling in 2012.
realise
baptise
organise
learnt
alright
colour
favourite
neighbour
paralyse
dialogue
quarelled
skilful
ageing
programme
cheque
cosy
grey
gaol
mould
plough
centre
theatre
zed
and this is just the beginning love...
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Clichés.
Woa. A whirlwind of life the last month. Douglas has been in the MTC for 25 days. I can assure you that all of the missionary-mom clichés apply, so feel free to shout them out or pencil them in. People kept telling me that the first week was going to be hard, but without having experienced it before I obviously didn't know what to expect really. It took a good 10 days after the first week had passed before I could explain what that first week was like. I had to keep reminding my sub-conscious that he hadn't died. If the sub-conscious is the gut of the brain - that was my brain's gut reaction - he'd died. Little things would trigger the thought process; his sock on the bathroom floor, accidentally calling David - Douglas, packing his last few shirts, finding his boots in the trunk of my car, coming home to an empty house for lunch, talking to the bank about his account, Jessica wearing his hat, and of course his uninhabited bedroom. It was a collection of heart sinking sorrow moments, combined with jubilation at the immediate reminder that the gut reaction was wrong and this boy was coming home to us - eventually. Sympathy for friends who have lost children or loved ones was overwhelming during that week and I prayed so fervently for dear ones.
I testify that my favorite cliché from the last month is that hearing from said missionary is like oxygen for the heart and soul. It's true! No wait. Maybe it's that the missionary is having such an incredible time learning about their purpose in the MTC that they don't show any signs of missing their family. Oh, but - there's also the one about feeling closer as a family and unified and all of that hoop-lah. There is a lack of original thought or experience implied in clichés, but when it has not been a truism in your own life clichés are total game changers. We are changed. Life is better. It tastes so good.
I testify that my favorite cliché from the last month is that hearing from said missionary is like oxygen for the heart and soul. It's true! No wait. Maybe it's that the missionary is having such an incredible time learning about their purpose in the MTC that they don't show any signs of missing their family. Oh, but - there's also the one about feeling closer as a family and unified and all of that hoop-lah. There is a lack of original thought or experience implied in clichés, but when it has not been a truism in your own life clichés are total game changers. We are changed. Life is better. It tastes so good.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
hush.
There are moments,... nights,.... some afternoons,.... even a morning here or there.... when I feel to write for so long and so rapidly to simply exhume the thoughts and layers of consciousness that I've packed away for months... years... Let's be honest, I can pack deep in mere minutes.
I am hyper-feeling. What is a scientific name for that? Overly emotional? Melodramatic? Temperamental? Filled with Angst? That's my least favorite one right now. See how all of those terms are negative? What are the positive ones?
Right now, I'm trying to avoid what I'm feeling low and deep by superficial deflecting and distraction. That's good right? Cause if I can get past a few emotions without having to examine them or sit in them or look at them and weep.... That would be.... better. Right?
Why do we cry? How does Darwin explain it? I'm sure he does, and I would love to hear the explanation. Maybe he and I agree. I think that pride leaves the body through tears. And maybe Darwin would support an idea that those who are carrying around less pride live longer or breed better. Why do we cry when someone else cries? Is it the same reason we laugh when someone else laughs? Or yawns when someone else yawns? If the emotion is let out of the jar into the room, we all take it in and go with it. Well some do. I do. Oi. I wish I could breathe in a little less. I wish I could hang on to a baseline longer.
Baseline - I'm loved and appreciated. This is the baseline I would choose. It's very empowering and makes me look outside myself almost immediately.
This isn't working. My stomach still hurts and my heart is racing and my breathing is.... Well, I'm tired too. Maybe that's the best thing to do in this situation. Sleep. Yes.
I'm going to watch golf with Rich. I love watching golf with Rich. He's so restful and untroubled, and the slumber arrives like a beloved guest coming in the middle of the night, sneaking in and rocking me gently saying - I am here, all is well. And I tell you what - golf is in Pebble Beach this week. I couldn't be happier to watch golf when the surf is flickering in the background. Every once in a while I get lucky and someone hits a ball into the water and we get to see the coastline even longer. And then there are the Cypress trees and the tall pines, and I start to smell it and remember that somehow all is healed on that coast. A few minutes with my toes in the cold sand, the sun spilling on my face and I remember... I'm loved and appreciated. Baseline. Rest.
Hush.
"Why are ye troubled and why do thoughts arise in your heart?"
I am hyper-feeling. What is a scientific name for that? Overly emotional? Melodramatic? Temperamental? Filled with Angst? That's my least favorite one right now. See how all of those terms are negative? What are the positive ones?
Right now, I'm trying to avoid what I'm feeling low and deep by superficial deflecting and distraction. That's good right? Cause if I can get past a few emotions without having to examine them or sit in them or look at them and weep.... That would be.... better. Right?
Why do we cry? How does Darwin explain it? I'm sure he does, and I would love to hear the explanation. Maybe he and I agree. I think that pride leaves the body through tears. And maybe Darwin would support an idea that those who are carrying around less pride live longer or breed better. Why do we cry when someone else cries? Is it the same reason we laugh when someone else laughs? Or yawns when someone else yawns? If the emotion is let out of the jar into the room, we all take it in and go with it. Well some do. I do. Oi. I wish I could breathe in a little less. I wish I could hang on to a baseline longer.
Baseline - I'm loved and appreciated. This is the baseline I would choose. It's very empowering and makes me look outside myself almost immediately.
This isn't working. My stomach still hurts and my heart is racing and my breathing is.... Well, I'm tired too. Maybe that's the best thing to do in this situation. Sleep. Yes.
I'm going to watch golf with Rich. I love watching golf with Rich. He's so restful and untroubled, and the slumber arrives like a beloved guest coming in the middle of the night, sneaking in and rocking me gently saying - I am here, all is well. And I tell you what - golf is in Pebble Beach this week. I couldn't be happier to watch golf when the surf is flickering in the background. Every once in a while I get lucky and someone hits a ball into the water and we get to see the coastline even longer. And then there are the Cypress trees and the tall pines, and I start to smell it and remember that somehow all is healed on that coast. A few minutes with my toes in the cold sand, the sun spilling on my face and I remember... I'm loved and appreciated. Baseline. Rest.
Hush.
"Why are ye troubled and why do thoughts arise in your heart?"
Saturday, January 19, 2013
The death of a day.
Saturday Jan 19th, 2013
6:30am-2:30pm
19th, 8 hours old, passed away at 2:30pm in the kitchen. 19th was born to Rare Surplus Time and Fully-Accomplished Lists, but sadly didn't see the fulfillment of the dreams of her parents. 19th was a happy child in the early hours. She saw yoga, a trip to the temple and the grocery store. She even saw a calendar and lists around 12:30. Her potential was far greater than any other Saturday that came before her in the last 13 years. Tragically she suffered a fatal blow just before 2:30pm with a deadly conversation. All parties were at fault and couldn't stay calm enough to stop the pernicious exchange. Once drive and ambition were drained from 19th's critical minutes, she didn't have enough strength to survive. There was a ray of hope around 6:45pm when we saw some color in 10 minutes, but it was not to last. We are deeply saddened by our loss. The potential of her life would have had far-reaching consequences into the garage, the laundry room, the honey-do list and the children's closets. We will never be the same without her.
19th was preceded in death by Dec 15th and Aug 28th. She is survived by Jan 21st and Feb 2nd. A memorial service will be held tonight at 11:13pm by the bedside. Come on your knees. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that you send any free time you have to the schedule listed below. We hope that what we have learned today will prevent the senseless death of beautiful days in the future.
6:30am-2:30pm
19th, 8 hours old, passed away at 2:30pm in the kitchen. 19th was born to Rare Surplus Time and Fully-Accomplished Lists, but sadly didn't see the fulfillment of the dreams of her parents. 19th was a happy child in the early hours. She saw yoga, a trip to the temple and the grocery store. She even saw a calendar and lists around 12:30. Her potential was far greater than any other Saturday that came before her in the last 13 years. Tragically she suffered a fatal blow just before 2:30pm with a deadly conversation. All parties were at fault and couldn't stay calm enough to stop the pernicious exchange. Once drive and ambition were drained from 19th's critical minutes, she didn't have enough strength to survive. There was a ray of hope around 6:45pm when we saw some color in 10 minutes, but it was not to last. We are deeply saddened by our loss. The potential of her life would have had far-reaching consequences into the garage, the laundry room, the honey-do list and the children's closets. We will never be the same without her.
19th was preceded in death by Dec 15th and Aug 28th. She is survived by Jan 21st and Feb 2nd. A memorial service will be held tonight at 11:13pm by the bedside. Come on your knees. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that you send any free time you have to the schedule listed below. We hope that what we have learned today will prevent the senseless death of beautiful days in the future.
Pine Delight
It's the 19th of January and I'm not suffering any seasonal melancholia yet. It's a January miracle. This winter feels... eventful. Let's credit the colossal snow storm we got 8 days ago. Jan 11, 2013 (Cosmically 20 years to the day of the last school-closing snow storm.) There are heaps and towers and piles and stacks and mounds of snow. Of course the day it came down was full of snuggling and warm drinks and feeling like reading and writing for 52 hours straight. But the continuing majesty of it is keeping me non-melancholic. This time January isn't just some chilly temperatures, hazy skies and dirty streets. This is WINTER in all of its glory and spectacle. This is something to be experienced and appreciated. See the tree above? I want to lick it. I want to pluck all of the pine trees out of the ground and slide the snow off into my mouth like olives off of a toothpick with one graceful slurp. What will it taste like? Cream? Cream on what? Something that honors the pine, but I can't really go with the prickly thing....
Those trees have been holding onto that snow for days and weeks now. It's their winter coat, keeping them safe from the elements. I can't take it all in by just looking at it. I want to put a hand to the whole thing all at once. Tricky, as the result would undress them immediately.
When I was little it was popular to put slim silver streamers on your Christmas tree to make it look like it had icicles on it. I never cared for the look but I also didn't understand it. Now I do.
It is the year of the icicle. (The spelling of that word is counter-intuitive to me. Icecycle? Icycle? Eyesikle in German. No wait, that's Eiszapfen) They are everywhere. On every roof, on signs, bushes, trees, power lines, cars, railings. They are getting long and menacingly beautiful. (Someone told me in Moscow they have snipers who shoot the icicles off of buildings so they don't drop and hurt anyone walking below. They're a serious hazard in the spring, killing a handful of people every year in Russia.)
So this is Winter 2013 so far. Hazelnut steamers have become a house specialty around here. J is surviving temperatures in the single digits before school with warm breakfast drink and a shot or two of Irish Cream. d is heating up rice bags around the clock and the electric blanket Rich got me for Christmas is my nightly indulgence. Ski guards her cherished socks which are only allowed to be washed while she is in a warm bath, and D is hoarding quilts. Staying warm has become a gratifying pastime for the whole family. 40 more days until the calendar says March. What will Spring be like if I'm not trying to recover from Winter?
Friday, January 18, 2013
Bolt the hermit crab.
Little D's hermit crab died this morning. Well, we aren't sure when exactly, because hermit crabs are not widely known for their lively approach to life. It's hard to know precisely when he took his last...
Oh wait. He just moved. He's alive. phew.
You know the funny thing? When D came up to tell me that the crab was dead, he was crying, which was a little surprising. But I attributed it to lack of sleep, a pretty rough day at school yesterday, and generally a heightened state of emotion all around. It wasn't just a wetting of the eyes, or a tantrum cry. It was a genuine heartache cry, and so of course I cried. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the loss of Bolt that drew out my tears, but my kids' heartache tears are directly linked to mine. The valves are on the same knob. His tantrum tears, scraped knee tears and anger tears are not. These tears prompt action or frustration or scowls of disappointment. But woa - those heartache tears. Immediate sympathy, empathy, compassion, care, concern, tenderness, .... get out the tissue, those are Mama tears.
Oh wait. He just moved. He's alive. phew.
You know the funny thing? When D came up to tell me that the crab was dead, he was crying, which was a little surprising. But I attributed it to lack of sleep, a pretty rough day at school yesterday, and generally a heightened state of emotion all around. It wasn't just a wetting of the eyes, or a tantrum cry. It was a genuine heartache cry, and so of course I cried. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the loss of Bolt that drew out my tears, but my kids' heartache tears are directly linked to mine. The valves are on the same knob. His tantrum tears, scraped knee tears and anger tears are not. These tears prompt action or frustration or scowls of disappointment. But woa - those heartache tears. Immediate sympathy, empathy, compassion, care, concern, tenderness, .... get out the tissue, those are Mama tears.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Meant To Do.
I've enjoyed a stillness and clarity of late that has eluded me in the mostly recent past. I'm reaching for a way to describe it, but I'm not sure my wordsmything is refined enough to bring these buoyant emotions to the page... er... to the screen.
I heard this phrase last week -
It doesn't matter what you do as long as you do what you were meant to do.
For a moment this is a consoling, peaceful thought. But panic sets in when you realize its up to you to sort out what you were meant to do.
Meant to do? There is a mighty possibility for failure. It could be all about how you make money, or who you become or where you live or go to school, or do with your time each day... but I think it can be more resonant than that, and what I want to think of is this:
What I am meant to do is learn to be a complete version of me being made up of 10 parts Love. This would be a whole and complete me. This is what I want to be meant to do.
Right now I think maybe I have 6 parts love, 2 parts jealousy, 2 parts pride, and maybe 1 part something I can't even describe, and I realize that this would be 11 parts something - and that is certainly contributing to the challenge. It doesn't matter what I do to do it, but I'm meant to learn 10 parts Love. I'm meant to be pure of heart....eventually.
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