Hope Springs

Quietness.  Peacefulness.  Burnt ashes.  The house taken to the ground.  I came back to say goodbye.  Touched your skin, you've been painted over.  As though we never met.  In my mind, I see only what you were to me.  Pink walls, pink curtains.  You were the heart, if the heart makes the home.  All I can do is cry for the both of us, all the love and hopes and dreams.  Every inch of you, I say good bye and hold you one last time.  Ask for your forgiveness.  Walking away, letting things go.  Hoping for the best, taking a gamble.  Hope springs from ashes.       

A Short Story

Kaolin was taking a walk one day and stumbled upon a string.
The string was sitting beneath a tree.
It was quiet and alone.
So Kaolin decided to take the string home with her.
On the way home, Kaolin wondered about the string’s family.
Did it have a mommy or daddy? A brother or a sister?
Or was the string alone by herself that day, just like Kaolin?
Kaolin sat down underneath the shade of a tree and stared at the string for quite a long time.
Perhaps they could become friends.
She held the string between two fingers and watched it very closely.
She was hoping that they could become friends.
That maybe the string could tell her a secret that no one else knew
And they would love each other forever.
All of a sudden, the string made a twitch.
A small little twitch that made Kaolin’s heart leap.
Which made the string twitch some more,
To which Kaolin’s heart beat faster.
And the string seemed to know what was running through Kaolin’s heart
For it danced between Kaolin’s fingers ever so slightly,
As if to say, “I love you. You’re my friend forever.”
Kaolin sat for a while, together with her pet string,
Underneath the shade of a tree.
And wondered what it would be like to have a friend in the whole world
Whom she could share secrets with
And who would love her always.

Kindness

A perk to my business is the random invitations by my clients to engage in their special world.  For example, on a late night business meeting near Milwaukee at a metal factory yesterday evening, I was offered the opportunity to operate a heavy machine.  More for me to become intimately familiar with this particular industry.  For now, I respectfully decline the fun distraction but reserved the opportunity to cross it off my bucket list.  Few weeks ago, I was Lincoln Lawyering it through the heart of Wisconsin, my first time in Appleton for another prospective meeting.  It was a gorgeous day for a drive and a chance to discover what the big deal was about Appleton.  In truth, Sheboygan has grown so much that it's surpassed any expectations I could have had for a place I'd want to call home.  These days, I've become zen surfer girl and walk through my days in a dream state.  Between my office with the westerly window, my little rental nest that serves a decent first home, and my favorite cafe, I float on other people's dreams.  I am the modern day Abe Lincoln, making house calls.  Or the constant gardener, tending other people's gardens.  Sometimes, even a surgeon of other people's hopes and dreams gone awry.

We have come a long way.  I have found myself on fluid track.  As the sun makes its way lower in the horizon with the onslaught of fall, the good weather still holds on and I take my girls to the beach each day to draw out our spirits a little longer.  We celebrated Casey's second birthday this past Sunday.  The three of us, surfer girls in the making, beach bumming it on the shoreline of Lake Michigan.  We'll take the beach whereever we can find it.  I helped Casey open her birthday present, Minnie Mouse beach toys.  She has recently discovered her legs and would get into sudden moods for running...away, towards, etc.  It was hilarious recording her chasing a flock of seagulls across the beach.  The Packers were playing that evening, so we had the entire shoreline to ourselves.  Just the birds and us three.     

There is a place where my heart has found soft ground to rest.  Kindness and peace is all I can take, only what I am willing to take.  I try to be more quiet and listen to kind words these days.  I hope to find more of it. 

By The Light Of The Moon

The Lunar festival was this past week, two days ago.  We celebrated Kaolin's Chinese birthday quietly, opening presents from family in California.  Playing tea party.  Ending the night exhausted with a few games of Mancala, as I observed her mind discovering the art of strategy.  My girl is now a little girl, and I am still her love.  At Glas Cafe this week, catching a short live performance of some traditional Irish music, she asked politely to walk downstairs and sit by herself.  However, I was allowed to watch her from the loft above.  And she was her own muse.  A fluttering heart.  Too young for boys to notice, but I know that she will be breaking hearts soon.  Hopefully not too much of her own.  Casey is just a budding leaf, light green and full of sunshine.  Not yet two, she whistles where she walks.  She brings me my glasses, phone and shoes every morning ready to help me greet the day.  She is my light and my fierceness.  Kaolin is my heart and my soul.  We've been walking by the light of the moon these days. 

Driving Sideways

The morning after gave me no sense of eruption or free fall into guilt and sadness.  Rather, at least up until today, it feels more like paying up on a debt.  The breaks on life is lifted.  I am my own agent where success and failure is mine to own.  My girl asked me this morning why I keep having to repeat myself with her regarding my reasons for this transition in life and the constant attempts to reassure her of my affection.  Apparently, she already knows where I stand and I don't have to say it too many times.  A few times is enough.  The rest is what it is.  The tao of a four year old.  I am taking a lesson in my own book regarding karma.  That is, our children cannot move forward beyond life's obstacles until their parents move beyond their own.  At this point, it's time to move forward, avoid the drama and live for tomorrow and all it has to offer.  There was much that had been gained in the past but for good reason, had to end.  At this moment, it's time to let go of the ashes and proceed.  Good people are waiting for us to carry on.  Sometimes, we must move sideways at a hard right angle to get to the next forward moving track.       

A Summer To Remember

Dear Honey,

I'd bought you a little drawing book this weekend.  In it were stensils of stylish clothing wear and stickers of accessories for my blossoming designer.  I flipped through it tonight and admired your art work.  I am not completely surprised but simply impressed by your budding sense of style and your ability to translate it on paper.  Just like me, we seem to be better on paper. 

Tonight, as I dropped you and your sister off at Lota's, you said to me that you were afraid.  Afraid of missing me too much this weekend.  After all the ups and downs this week as we recovered through your tonsil surgery, you still had it in you to tell me you loved me and that you missed me.  Do you know that I feel the same way?  About you and your sister? 

As an adult, you'd expect that I would have it figured out enough by now to keep things secure for you.  But I am trying to answer questions still which seems so selfish but I say to myself that it's in the hopes that I can answer them for you along the way. 

Sometimes, when time is short, we try to make up for it however best we can.  This week has been a summer to remember.  I hope you never forget it either.  Beaching out on the sand, catching dead fish, building sand castles and filling up our spiritual tanks.  I still have that one fish you caught sitting in your sister's sippy cup.  It may stink up before the end of week.  But it's quite a sight at the moment, on my window sill, with your little flower that we planted in the pot.  Thank you so much for the seeds that you sewed in my other pots that you left in my garden.  You are a mother's dream and my blessing.  You and your sister are my angels and fairies. 

If you were wondering, I miss you too.   

cracks in the core

Sadness comes from disappointment.  The precedence of the first broken promise.  An experience of lost innocence.  That is the human experience of nature and fate.  I wake up on occasion from recurring dreams that I am looking backwards from the sidelines asking if that is all?  The epic journey concluding so abruptly.  Even if the story was a bitter one to take, the ending always feel unexpected.  I mourn a loss, one that I ended by my own choice.  It could have otherwise been right.  But things fail usually from cracks in the core.

Mutuality

All the books I've read, about characters of all sorts...philosophy and history or even fantasies playing out all the what if scenarios don't seem to do much good in offering practical perspective to questions in my own life.  Occasionally I come back to the same big one, "what is happiness and am I there?".  Moments like these I want to ask a reliable fortune teller about everything and forget about it the next day.  When does happiness become a selfish frivolous desire. When is it still a remaining matter of self preservation?  How would I explain this to my daughters in their own pursuit of the same?  I watch my parents sacrifice moments of potential joy for a greater sense of salvation later on.  That is, assuming two people can meet each other half way over time.  That is, the assumption that in time you would find that common ground.   Would the foundation be selfless sacrifice and love?  It takes two, when two is involved.        

The New Normal

There is the sense of belonging to a place, a person, a home that extends beyond our physical existence into our spirit and shadows of our spirit.  Sometimes, the sun that shines brightly highlight the unseen composition of our soul.  What are extensions of our real selves.  Our home.  Our heart.  Emotional composition of our identity.  When the cold wind blows, there is the residual memory of a solid structure that once protected us.  In the new normal, I see myself clearly from my own perspective.  Blindly even.  In the old normal, I refused to see, and was blindly obstinant.  Afraid.  These days, I walk between norms, stepping on shadows.  Always finding myself standing on my own shadow.  When we leave our only normal, we don't completely loose it.  We adapt to a new normal.  To survive, we must learn to walk between spheres while minding the gaps.  I was out seeking only for change.  I did not expect to bargain for metamorphesis.      

Eat Drink Pray Love

my father has spent the last many decades of his life saying that some day, when he achieved a certain amount of something, he would reward his sacrifices by taking that one big trip and experience life for once.  enjoy his life in some big way to compensate for all those minutes, hours, days, years that he had given himself to create something for a greater priority.  a selfless godful way of living. 

there is an old buddhist story.   a man is chased by a tiger.  he runs up to water's edge by a river.  the river is large.  a fallen tree is laying by the riverbed.  he prays to god and ask for an answer and miracle to save his life.  he is eaten by the tiger.  in heaven, he asks god why god didn't help him.  god answers, "i did.  it was up to you in the end to help yourself.  why didn't you use the fallen tree to float across the river?" 

i have arrived at an epiphany.  a half of one thus far.  or perhaps only the beginning of a new chapter.  it's hard for a woman to make right choices.  the world is unforgiving.  perspective of life is an art of life itself.  the goal?  there may not be a goal.  perhaps the art of just aiming right and just savoring every minute.  pray that it is good along the way.  or perhaps being brave, digging and hope for luck.  in any case, hope takes us to the next place.  

the lesson i want to impart onto my girls, what i have learned thus far at this stage in my life....to not give up hope ever.  that you must always live an inspired life.  be driven with your mind but let your heart guide you.  especially if your intention is to find god.  and seek always the good love, not the bad.  if you are lucky, you will find it within your lifetime.  if not, always still give good love and be brave enough to wait for a good love in return.  in the meanwhile, live however best you can and learn about the good and bad.  how else would you know otherwise a good thing when you have it?   

A River Runs Through It

In life, no one teaches us about curve balls. Nothing is completely random and nothing is completely fated. A rock is pushed off the head of a river. Floating downstream by its own physical definition, guided by laws of nature, it moves towards a predetermined destiny. Some call it erosion while others call it refinement of the jagged edges with each mark that life leaves or takes away. Traveling among many like ourselves, we do it to each other...affecting the other's destination. Until a curve ball strikes. An avalanche. A flood. A fire. Propelling us according to new rules. You may succeed in resisting if the right edges remain to hold you down. You could blame it on the curve ball for the seemingly sudden failure. But at an earlier point along our path, the erosion had unwittingly begun. Bonds that should have saved us eroded under neglect. Some may say it was inevitable. Only the rock would know. Our salvation was simple. To love well when we were in the midst of loving.

Rivers and Stones

We do our best in life to create a path, to follow a direction with our entirety, aspiring for something greater.  Two stones begin a path together, both pushed down a river by the hands of fate and with the force of nature's stream.  The nature of the stones as they are, with hopefully enough complementary crevices to allow a tight connection along life's bends.  Over time, with the washing of the water and the force of the river, edges are worn smooth.  If the connection between crevices are not maintained, those would be worn smooth too.  Eventually, the connection degrades.  Hands slip away between each other under the turbulence of the river.  As we encounter a fork in our path, I diverge and you cannot hold on.  We have lost those crevices that use to bind us.  I follow my fate as you are taken down by the tied on another journey.  In our own individual paths, we become ourselves in true form separate from each other.  If I should meet you again at the end of the road, by the mouth of the ocean, will I recognize you?  Will you have anything left from the erosion of life?  Did you have the strong core I always hoped you had or is the center a weak mass of sand?  You needed me to shield you from life's harshness.  I did so because it was my nature and my commitment to you.  I continued to erode away, my bond disconnecting from you, you are now exposed.  I wish you strength on your journey to the sea.  Do not make the same mistake in relying on another to shield you from the pain of life.  The journey of two requires a give and take of love in order to maintain that connection and protection for each other throughout.  We cannot become one if our love is one sided.  To find your complementary self again at this moment, you must allow the river to reveal new crevices.  The journey is still long.  Have faith in love and the force of nature as it is driven to find stability by means of a complement of you.  There is always hope if you can be true to yourself.