What Ten Years Of Lego Building Looks Like

As much as I love all things French, I used to resent Derrida and the French Deconstructionists.  It was so depressing to tear apart a literary work until its meaning was made irrelevant.  I resented it then, just like I'm resenting the deconstructionists now.

If you ask Elliot what he wants to "be" when he grows up, he generally replies that he wants to be a Lego Master Builder.

His passion for creating with plastic bricks has meant the gift of time for me...to write, to socialize, and to create.  I love that he enjoys this hobby which helps to make connections in his mind and problem solve.

But just now I'm realizing that perhaps all of that creative free time with bricks has led to something disturbing:

The tendency to build, only to dismantle. Just like the Buddhist monks who make the wonderful sand mandalas only to brush them away.  Life is impermanent, as is art.

In our house, so are plastic brick constructions.

Perhaps it's a normal boy kind of behavior.  (But the mini figures....why take off their heads, arms, legs???? poor little people!)

Taking apart all of these expensive and complicated Lego sets has allowed Elliot to repeatedly work on new creations.  He's gone through several developmental stages with his bricks, from Star Wars to Marvel Comic Heroes to Hobbits and Knights.   He's re-made more vehicles, robots, houses and spaceships than I can count.

And at one time, he built them all to the exact specifications in record times.  Out of all of these sets, only one remains:  The Millenium Falcon, which he built with his Dad, who made him swear to never ever ever dismantle it.

So now all of those technical creations have become the raw materials for his imagination.  But it's also a little heartbreaking.  Richard says that when Elliot is a teen and starts to rebel, the consequences for disobedience will include restoring the sets, one by one, brick by brick, back to their original condition.

I shudder at the thought of it....

Just now, we are preparing for Elliot's tenth birthday party.  Every year we say with complete confidence, "next year, we will not have a party.  We will do something different." (How about taking a friend to the Water Park, Elliot????? Wouldn't that be a blast????)

But the though of not having a big back yard party depresses all of us.

We love our friends.  Parents come and enjoy the fun and it feels so good to fill our home with children and listen to the shouting as they run through house and all over the yard.  So if it takes weeks of creative projects and budgeting, so what?

We are making memories and connecting with our community.  It's not about the gifts, but the friends.

This year, the theme is a mash up of Lego and Minecraft.  We'll be showing The Lego Movie in our homemade outdoor theater, have a Minecraft photo booth set up in the arbor, play games and fill the ping-pong table with trays and trays of Lego for a building activity.  If Elliot were not a deconstructionist, this part would be impossible.  So I'm trying to be positive while I sit through the sorting:  his compulsion to break down the space ships becomes an opportunity to share the experience of creativity and collaboration.

But in preparation for that activity, we are now in plastic brick hell.... (find a seat, anyone?)

There's more where these came from!

I'm not a Pinterest-perfect Mom who puts on the pretty parties with color-coordinated and matching theme decorations.  We're going to set up a taco bar in the dining room, take the cover off the pool, have a romping, running. invented game of "cap the Kragle" involving the garden hose.  We'll stuff our faces with cake cake and ice cream, and hand out bags of popcorn for the movie.  I'm also working on thank you gifts for each child...a hand painted t shirt with a Lego character face in the center.

Somewhere I read that the secret to happiness is finding something you care about that is bigger than yourself, then let that be your life.

I'm so lucky that I get to be a mom and do these crazy, time consuming, creative, messy projects.  If you were to stop by my house, you might find me buried in Lego bricks with paint on my face.

And I would be happy.

Jomeokee

Jomeokee is the Native American name for Pilot Mountain.  It means The Great Guide and was considered  sacred. (was not the whole earth sacred then?).  While hiking on the Ledge Spring Trail, you can see ancient stone faces of mythical proportions jutting out from the walls, adding to the mystical feeling of being transported deep into a past where ceremonies might have taken place on the summit.  For 250 years, a tribe called the Saura lived at the base of the mountain and grew vegetables, hunted and lived near the abundant, life giving Yadkin river.  (A very interesting documentary about this river, including beautiful local flavor of speech can be found here: http://yadkinriverstory.org/yadkin.html)

  Jomeokee is a monadnock (meaning an isolated rock hill that rises from a level plain) estimated to be 500 to 750 million years old.  It is made of quartzite.  Geologists theorize that it was once a beach.  From Exploring the Geology of the Carolinas, "although Pilot Mtn is 2,421' above sea level today, its cliffs originated as white beach sands on the shores of an ancient ocean. About 540Mya, the Iapetus Ocean was lapping at the shores of Laurentia, the continent that later would become N. America. Laurentia's sandy beaches were probably similar to the beaches of the Carolinas today, except they were made up of almost pure quartz grains."(p.137)

One of my favorite stories about Jomeokee is told by a park ranger who hiked with us.  He explained that during training for deployment to Iraq, a group of soldiers built a rock staircase into the side of the mountain.  I have since searched for documentation or a newspaper story on this, to no avail.

 http://www.naturallyamazing.com/americasparks/7722.jpg

My back aches just imagining it...according to the ranger, the rocks were delivered via helicopter and put in place by the sweat, muscle, teamwork and determination of the soldiers.


What I loved about the trails that circled around this monadnock were the amazing rock formations and beautiful flora.  In the spring, the walls burst with with rhododendron and mountain laurel blossoms.  There are no bears in the area because highway 52 passes nearby.  At night while camping, we could hear the flow of traffic.  This sound keeps the bears away.  So, for me, this is the PERFECT compromise between my mountaineering husband who lives for the wilderness, and me, who is often  always afraid.

On our latest adventure to this location, we decided to camp. Normally we would make a day trip of it, as it only sits one easy hour north by highway.  But the weather was nice, school was out, and this campground looked inviting! Instead of tents, we took a risk and experimented with hammock camping.  Once he set everything up, our site looked like this:

On this trip, I was reminded that regardless of logic, I always encounter a little fear every time I find myself sleeping overnight in the woods.  This new situation was ripe for facing an unexpected fear.  Sleeping in a hammock did not afford the sense of security I longed for.  Even with brave Ozzie to guard our behinds now made vulnerable to wandering skunks, possums and racoons in the night, this didn't feel as heavenly as I imagined.  The first night it rained, and I ended up on the ground in a sopping wet backpacking tent instead of in the hammock.  I slept with my phone, which was so water damaged by the morning it was completely useless.

But losing it seemed an insignificant loss compared to what I gained.  This mountain is a place of reclamation for me; a chance to confront fears and enjoy spectacular trails without being completely traumatized by my over active imagination. Besides my imagination, I am also nervous about heights, especially if I get too close to a precipice (something in me has this insane urge to jump...and I find that I must force myself to back away...)  But keeping my focus forward, I felt fine.

  At the lookout on the top of Little Pinnacle, there is a wide viewing area that one can experience from a comfortable distance, or go closer if you enjoy that feeling of being suspended in the sky.  So I decided that this sign at one trail head must be for the seriously reckless fools who run and leap with wild abandon:

Some people might say that Pilot Mountain is not for serious wilderness seekers, because it is so popular.  I love it for this reason.  I enjoy the people we encounter.  Everyone says hi or smiles on the trail.

Even the rocks smile on Jomeokee

Is this for REAL?

Hiking boots are needed. And patience to navigate through rocks.

While hiking the Ledge Spring Trail, glimpses of the plains are visible.

There are places on the summit trails that take you near the steep incline, but also plenty of room to stay near the rock walls.

Farther down the mountain, there are miles of open wooded trails leading to the Yadkin river that are not bursting with heaps of rocks or steep inclines.  A gentle day hike would take you from the ranger station to the river and back.  It is magical on this trail due to the height of the trees, and a canopy which doesn't support a lot of underbrush.  I love hiking in the open, where I can see through the woods.  Walking through dense growth is unnerving...I don't like sudden surprises.

This time I came home feeling energized and excited for the next trip, instead of blissfully grateful for a house with four walls...but I have to admit, after all that hiking, I dearly missed my bed.

From the Happiness Jar

Here are a few entries from the happiness jar in May:

On May 2, I turned 43.  I am grateful for another year of living!

Richard's wilderness survival classes exceeded my expectations.  My favorite was the fire building class we hosted in our back yard.

A day trip to Pilot Mountain.

My friend Linda.  Everything about Linda is beautiful.  I got to tell her this one day when we were having a discussion about veins in our hands.  She said she thought her hands were ugly...after hugging her and telling her how I really felt about her (there's not a single thing ugly about you Linda!!!)  Our mutual friend Tanya looked into her eyes and said "Linda, you are one of the most beautiful people I know."
(Her face smiling goes in the happiness jar)

My neighbors.  Not the neighbors whose dog attacked me, and whom I'm still working on the seventy times seven forgiveness challenge...  my kindhearted neighbors who spontaneously offered to watch Elliot while Richard and I enjoyed an evening out.  My neighbors who always make time to talk, wave and smile.  My neighbors who have two beautiful children...one who is four year old Carolyn, and the other who is 10 month old Turner.  Yesterday, Carolyn blew dandelion seeds and wished "all good things for Elliot."
After enjoying a swim in our pool, I offered her a slice of watermelon.  She said,

"Watermelon is good for you, because it has a lot of taste."

A different kind of writing habit.  After years of reading books on writing, the real learning is happening through an actual practice not for social media.  It's as if I've been trying to learn how to ride a bike from a book all these years.  There's a fresh novelty in discovering how to tell a fictional story.  My wobbly first attempts to push the pedals and find my balance will hopefully become a longer ride..

Actual bike rides.  One sunny afternoon, Richard, Elliot and I rode through the adjacent neighborhoods and discovered the newly constructed branch library.  I'm looking forward to riding to the library for our weekly visits during Elliot's fifth grade year.

Rain showers.  Thunderstorms. (And the discovery that if I listen to "sound spa" on my computer I can write for longer periods.  I think rain helps to draw one within  and to a place of deep focus, even if it is an artificially constructed situation.)  Beating writer's block will now involve my headphones!

A new hammock hanging from the rafters on the back porch.  Elliot and I reading in the hammock at sunset, swinging our way through a long story.

Music.  Listening to my favorite cd's on our big stereo with the full range of sound.

Last and not least....I bought a ticket to see Elizabeth Gilbert in Asheville, North Carolina one month from now.  I plan to host a giveaway with a signed copy of The Signature of All Things in paperback.

Do you have any happiness moments you'd like to add to this list?  Feel free to leave some in the comments!

Happy Weekend!

Ambition and Mindfulness, Two Opposing Forces

Yesterday I woke up feeling unwell.  A headache squeezed a band of tight pressure around my skull, acid reflux rose in my throat and my stomach gurgled and felt like a wobbly container of swishy-ness.

I had to lie down and rest, and leave the chores alone.

All the things I wanted to accomplish, my ambitions for the day, had to wait while I did nothing.

And then an awareness, a widening perception of mindfullness arrived.  I experienced what it felt like to simply be near Elliot without a rush of expectations on us.

We spent the day together doing nothing, and he was bored, waiting for me to feel better.

I found myself really listening to him, appreciating the sound of his young voice.  The sweetness of his personality.  I noticed how his  mind and spirit are developing.  Being ambitious and driven to work on writing, fitness, chores, the Etsy shop and our academic work distracts me.  Ambition drives me on a highway, rushing over the fields of  those expansive, peace filled awareness moments, when time stands still. In this slow frame, I'm gob-smacked by the beauty and miracle of my family.  How it feels just to be next to one another, in the same room.  Being connected.

We are nearing the end of our academic year.  For the last two weeks, Ellot's been practicing for testing, just to reduce anxiety and not to enhance performance, because I doubt that the test will measure Elliot's true gifts.

No test will show what if feels like to be sharing life with Elliot.   To relax on the couch in the evening and read aloud together.  Last night we dove back into Frightful's Mountain by Jean Craighead George.  That he can read it might be some kind of measure of his achievement, but that he loves stories like this means more.

I believe that what a person cares about is more important than how well they can perform.  This is not some kind of excuse, a blanketing cover for the hard data, the results, the proof that we have been working.  I resent that numbers often have the final word in measuring a child's worth.  I reject that kind of thinking.

What we care about should be allowed to develop freely and without measure in education.

Like justice, and giving, and small acts of compassion.  Friendship and cooperation, respect for our faith journeys in all their expressions.   The pulling out of our expansive potentials as humans to be good to one another and the planet that we share.

 (I am a hopeless idealist...so what?)

This week,  Elliot has been invited to a special community potluck honoring the founder of The Interactive Resource Center, Liz Seymour.  Liz is retiring next month and we are excited to be a part of the work she has done to bring hope to our community.

Elliot may not have an "end of the year" class party...but this event, where hundreds of people experiencing homelessness and the community of volunteers who help will be an exciting way to celebrate.  When we began our journey I never expected these wonderful experiences to keep arriving. I mainly worried about how to help Elliot get through this:

This first grade work arrived in Elliot's backpack as homework over one weekend.  It was the furious storm in my heart that sent me to the office with a withdrawl form and an intent to homeschool.   

 I'm learning that true success doesn't take hours of hard work or diligent practice. A six year old child does not have to spend 12 hours over the weekend doing busy paper work to be worthy.

 Success doesn't always require years of nose-to-the-grindstone striving.   There is a secret that no one tells you in school...it's really okay to be a miserable failure in all the acceptable skills. (Which Elliot is not...but if he was, this would be okay)  You can be mediocre.  You can be non-traditional. You can be below average, average, or above average.  You can be a bright genius or a slacker.  You can be an artist and a creative and still have "chance" to live a successful, brilliant life.   It just takes a willingness to follow something that you care about.  Explore that feeling and let the curiosity take you to places and into the lives of people.  There's an energy source, a compassionate, loving universe of unseen and unlimited resources that provides gifts to sustain the journey.  In my ambitious striving, I often forget to notice and take comfort and security in this unseen reality.

Mother's Day (part 2)

Recently I have been thinking about how to navigate honoring my own mother, who continues to enrich and support my life in a hundred thousand million ways.

She's not very comfortable with social media.  She doesn't like to be "tagged" in pictures.  I wonder if it makes her feel self conscious to be the subject of my shared writing.  And yet, there's an absence in my continuing story, a character missing, who is really very important and valued.  That I did not mention her in my mother's day post does not mean that I don't love and respect her, deeply, the way we all love our dear parents.  In not mentioning her publicly on the holiday, I did so because I believe that "showing" love online is different than "really" loving a person in the three dimensional world.  I believed it was okay not to post the obligatory picture of us together.  I did not post a picture of us together for a couple of reasons, mainly because  we were unable to BE together on Mother's day.  I always wish that I could be.

My mother infused me with everything that I value.  Unconditional love, faith, respect, creativity, joy.  She worked very hard for all of us.  She made all the holidays special and beautiful.  Even though holiday times were stressful, with huge expectations, she never made it feel like it was an onerous obligation.  She enjoyed celebrating, hosting parties and making memories with family and friends.  She made our home clean, comfortable, beautiful, filled with sunlight and baked goods and fresh sheets hung on the line.  She cleaned up after all of us, including the 15 or so pets that we once had, all at one time.  Litters of puppies, kittens, a lizard, gold fish, a hamster....

She washed windows and curtains and dusted.  She baked cookies, pies, cakes.  She canned the millions upon millions of vegetables my dad grew in the garden (with his help, and sometimes my grandparent's help too...you could eat for years from that garden).

She made sure we all had nice clothing for school, attended all the teacher conferences and sporting events and took us to church every single Sunday.  She forgave us when we misbehaved.  On rainy days or snowy days she would cover the kitchen table with newspaper and lay out items for crafting.  My favorite was clothespin dolls.

Once she saved our lives when her car caught on fire.  She was able to get all three of us out before it burned into a charred frame.

My mom is a devout believer, and her faith is a rock that nothing can crack.  She is our rock, and our shelter and our sweetest, kindest friend.

She is Elliot's biggest supporter in his mission to help people experiencing homelessness.

She once saved me from starvation and the possibility of homelessness when I was going through my marital separation.

My friends all loved her and said that I had the nicest, kindest mom.  They are right.

I am late in posting this picture, and I hope she will understand.  (Mother's day was really chaotic here...Elliot pulled a muscle in his neck and I worried about him all day)

Buy Her Some Real Rock!

A friend recently wrote a status detailing the list of wonderful things she did on Mother's day.  Part of it involved fancy food and other lovely things.  Girly kind of things.  Then she remembered to include that she ended her day with yard work and a trip to Home Depot for flowers and paint.

And this, my friends, is how I like to spend my Mother's day:

 By sweating through it, followed by a relaxing walk through the air conditioned aisles of Home Depot.

You see, Mother's day always falls on a Sunday, Richard's regular work day.  The weather is usually warm and sunny.   And since I love to garden, it's the perfect time for planting vegetables and mowing, or taking a long run.

This Mother's day I put on my running gear and headed out with Elliot on his bike and Ozzie at my side.  Running with Ozzie is always an adventure because he adores sniffing every rock and tree.  I have to command him to heel or the run turns into an awkward back and forth dance.  On this particular run, I forgot to grab a plastic bag in case he could not resist adding fertilizer to the already overly fertilized perfect green lawns in the newly constructed neighborhood.  Which is exactly what he did.

Elliot and I are studying civics and social responsibility.  There was no way I could let that fertilizer lie.

So we ran/biked/sniffed our way home.  I grabbed a few bags and ran back to the site, picked up the deposit and ran back home, like a kid running for the school bus with her paper bag lunch.

Sweat poured in abundance on the long hill toward home.  After a tremendous dousing rainfall the previous day, this morning was heavy with humidity.  While I ran with my paper "lunch sack", I started fantasizing about our pool. Then I remembered something that Deepak Chopra said during a guided meditation...he suggested that I become more aware of how big, hard impossible things will start to happen effortlessly.

Richard had stored our "summer escapes" pool in the attic of the garage.  Having never lifted it myself, I imagined that it weighed too much for me to get it down safely.  But thinking of the meditation, I went up to the attic (where I always bruise my head on the low beams...this day being no exception), I tried to lift the pool.

I prepared to heave my whole body into the effort.

It was bulky and awkward, but as light as a large tarp!  As I maneuvered myself into a position on the ladder, I asked Elliot to hand it to me.  When I got hung up on the descent, Elliot said,

"Drop it Mom!  The pool is not worth your life!"

I told him not to worry. Everything would be okay.  And suddenly the pool was unstuck and I was able to make it down without falling or dropping the "summer escape".

Then came the challenge of setting it up on the level space that Richard had worked so hard to perfect two years ago.  I'm not sure that space stayed perfectly level...I probably needed to scrape a layer here or there, but being determined, I skipped that step and went on with the task.

After hours of sweat and a few visits at the fence from my adorable, four year old blond and curly haired neighbor asking "Jenny, what are you DOING????".......

I had a half filled pool.  While the pool filled I also managed to turn over the hard clay earth around the perimeter of the deck to plant my sweet potato plants and tomatoes.  It was humid and backbreaking work.  Just the way I like it.

After investigating the reason why the pool seemed to be filling so slowly, I learned that an O ring on the filter was broken, so water was gushing in a steady fountain out of the top of the filter.

Just as Richard walked in the door, I kissed him hello and rushed out the door to Home Depot to replace the O ring.

While there, I noticed other Moms wearing colorful dresses and sandals dragging their families in for supplies.  A stone display at the entrance said "This Mother's Day, Buy Her Some REAL Rock!"

This would be my kind of Mom!  The kind to whom you could give a real rock and she would be thrilled at your thoughtfulness and your deep understanding of her true nature.

It is still holding water the next day!  I have one small leak near an intake hose, which Richard says he can fix.

Last week, Elliot and I hauled rocks and dug a new pond.  The birds have been loving it!

This is Elliot's garden.  We built this together shortly after we dug the new pond.  His cucumbers are already sprouting!

Richard and Elliot have been building this new fort, directly under the tree house.  On Christmas Eve, a man who works at Home Depot gave Richard the side wall for free.  It was destined for the dumpster, having been used as a display.  The spirit of Santa Claus lives!

This is our garden, hand turned.  This year we will grow the three sisters here...corn, pole beans and squash.

Why Friendship Break Ups Can Be Healthy

Almost a year has passed since our family experienced a devastating friendship break up.  It was emotionally draining and sad for all of us.  Through that process, I discovered that I have a limit that not even a long term friendship could bear.  Like a bridge under too much weight, I buckled and collapsed.  Then I made sure to seal the deal with some effective writing.

And several months ago, our regular Science Class ended when the teacher accepted a position at a public middle school.  This meant that we would see less of our friends. It felt as though we were in the middle of building strong bonds, then left the construction site unfinished.

In both cases, we've had to learn to stay open and to not cling.

In clinging to one particular friend, pouring all of our energy and time and love and frustration, it is dangerously easy to block out the light of new friends who exist on the perimeter.  Intense, close friendships have a tendency to produce tunnel vision.

It feels healthier for me, and for Elliot, to allow ourselves the space to see a bigger picture.  In this way we become more open to the natural flow of friends in our life.  Some are here for a little while, and that's okay.
The concept of "keeping" friends is not healthy.

Maintaining healthy, happy friendships does require some time and a little attention.  But not so much that the calendar only fills up around the other person's life.  The best friendships feel like freedom.  And this applies to family and spouses too.  Our families can make us feel like prisoners, or they can feel very open and light and free.   Captivity of the heart is a dangerous game.

It also takes a great deal of energy to maintain a thriving enemy relationship.  It would be better to focus on something else that restores the balance.

The middle is the sweet spot.  It's the place for giving and receiving in a natural way.  I'm not sure how to explain this to my nine year old son, who loves people so freely and with a passionate, deep heart.   Attachment has been hard for him.   He clings.  He feels devastated and separate when his love is not returned at the same level of openness and depth.

It's one of those long term lessons that we can only learn through time and experience.  New friends are arriving and older friendships are blossoming, and for Elliot this is a miracle.