A Great Day to Be Alive

Today I'm down with a cold, but I refused to let it affect my experience of a glorious fall day.  My mom shopped for ingredients for chicken soup and made a large pot for all of us.  After enjoying a steaming bowl of some delicious broth I perked up and went out. On a whim, we visited the campus of Guilford College to view some fall color and the incredible stickwork art of Patrick Dougherty.  Elliot was enthralled with this castle made of sticks and asked if we could return every day.  This masterpiece is currently inspiring the development of a stick fort in our back yard.  Visiting the sight of Dougherty's castle is a great way for Elliot to discover that artistic expression is not confined to paper or digital media.

While we walked, Elliot remembered visiting the campus when I was a student and then later as an employee.  He wondered,

"Mom, where are all of your old friends?"

Even with temps in the mid sixties and trees bursting with color, not many folks were out.  We decided to venture into Hege Library, a building that is a sacred space for me. Eight years ago as a new student, the library felt intimidating with its stacks of complicated, dense and dusty books. By the end of my academic journey in 2007, the library had become my sanctuary and a rich resource for writing.  Later, as a member of the staff, Hege became my home away from home.  Although I left my position in order to venture into business, being the library's housekeeper was a spiritually fulfilling experience.  I'm drawn to libraries the way some people love to be in church. 

For months I've wanted to return to Guilford.  Yet I needed time to shed the last residues of that uncomfortable "I used to work here and I'm just a tiny bit resentful and ashamed of my status as a common laborer" feeling.  Staying away for a substantial amount of time helped to restore those wonderful feelings that attracted me to the campus from the very beginning. Today while walking under protected and revered trees, I felt a deep appreciation that Guilford College was a part of my life's path.  There were years of slow going struggle and triumph, of excruciating choices between books, a new baby and a new relationship.  My constant companion was an all pervading sense of anxiety, of being judged and evaluated. There were tears and joy in learning to write deeply and critically.  An unexpected benefit has been the gift of being able to confidently speak publicly and to ask more from life.  Years later, I'm still discovering that it's okay, that it's essential, to take the leading role in changing my personal circumstances and life path.

From Guilford I also received a new faith practice and now enjoy the bliss of silent worship.

Today even the harsh memory of overly critical and demanding English professors did not make me feel small and insignificant.  I'm no longer more of a "reader" than a "writer."  I no longer feel like a worthless, impoverished single mom starting an academic journey with no connection to anyone.  Those days are thankfully behind.  I am not the cleaning person.  I am not even the greenhorn graduate who is clueless about job searching, networking and letters of recommendation.  Today I was June's daughter and Elliot's mom and we were out together, smiling and taking photographs on a great day to be alive.

A Festive Night for Friends

Holidays are meant to be shared.  In my past, the worst Halloween nights were those when Emily and I ventured out together in search of just the right neighborhood for trick or treating.  I was new to Greensboro and being anonymous meant that there were no invitations and no recommendations for fun locations.

This year there was no reason to be alone. After spending the day making homemade chocolates and carving pumpkins, we donned our costumes and set out for an evening of fun with our friends, who live in a friendly, beautiful neighborhood.  (Our street is a dark county road with no sidewalks, and therefore no trick or treaters.)


The evening was chilly but sparkled with festivity, as people decorated their yards with strings of colorful lights and kid friendly, and some not so kid friendly, decorations.  It felt like a return to the traditional Halloween of my childhood, with neighbors gathering outdoors to share in the excitement of children filling the streets.  Being in the crowd of families made me wonder why we don't close our streets one night every week...or even every month, to let the children play. 

To play outdoors at night has a bigger appeal than candy.  While children will remember the taste and smell of trick or treat goodies, this holiday's real meaning lies in the community it creates.  Halloween brings families with children together with their friends and neighbors.

 

Is it the season?

  As the leaves begin to make their bright and scented carpet on the trails, I feel myself folding inward.  Into the private me who is a part of this world yet who embraces separation from the crowded jostling. 

I'm caught between wanting more and wanting less.  Between the desire to be an instant success and the secret fear of having too much all at once.   Between wanting to take my time with everything, yet needing a fast result.  When everything in society is about high speed, I'm here in the land of SLOW DOWN. 


In this altered state that has me sitting in a crock pot of my mind, I'm at peace.

Yet, there are a million things I could be doing with my life if only I were willing to take more leaps, more risks.    

It was a minor risk to create the homeschool writer/illustrator workshop, a bigger risk to make my proposal and set a price.  It was a scary risk to sit in the nearly empty classroom on Friday mornings and wait.  Elliot wondered.  I wondered.  And now there are four of us.

  We draw pictures.  We chat.  So far, a little writing has also been accomplished.  Afterwards, I leave feeling amazed that a path is being opened.  It used to look like a dense, impenetrable forest.  But I keep taking slow steps and the woods keep opening up.  


Over the weekend, I was able to go out dancing with my prince charming. I also discovered a secret that is probably not a secret, but something that arrived  as an epiphany to me.  I learned that taking healthy risks together can deepen intimacy.

Perhaps I have taken "happily ever after" to mean a life long attempt for safety and security.  Within all the striving for stability and a sanctuary in the conventional ideal of an American family, it is the loss of shared risk taking that can have a negative impact on the romantic aspect of a relationship.

After all, the beginning stage of romantic love happens when two people agree to take a risk together with no certainty of outcome.  They are vulnerable together.  As time goes on, and risk subsides, intensified feelings of euphoria inducing love slows down.

And slow love, like slow food, is healthy and good.


But an occasional risk brings intimacy back to the forefront.  I'm not talking about taking a life threatening risk or making unhealthy choices like abusing substances.  Sometimes its about new music or exposure to something that you once were afraid to try. 

With this epiphany, I'm now faced with a challenge.  The challenge to respond to the feeling of being afraid as a potential avenue for growth.

Apple Store Field Trip

Hi Friends,
Things are so busy this weekend and we are excited.  My mom has arrived safely after driving over 700 miles in one fell swoop.  Elliot is over the moon with happiness having his grandma here.  It was difficult for him to leave this morning to go on our scheduled field trip to the Apple Store.  Perhaps I should have let him stay home while I enjoyed meeting other home educators.  I'm learning to trust and reach out more as we go along.  I made several potentially great friends today, then had the joy of coming home to one of my lifelong friends, who just happens to be my mom. 

While we had breakfast and before we left for our field trip, Elliot told his grandma about all the yucky, scary Halloween stuff that he's seen in the stores this month.  I asked him what we should do when we're out trick or treating and we see a house with lots of scary decorations.  I nearly choked on my oatmeal at his response:

"Well, throw up in their driveway."

"That way, when they leave in the morning they will say, "what's this yucky stuff on my wheels?"

So, for all the folks in the adjacent neighborhood...think twice about putting out the gore! 

Anticipation

I have been experiencing a much needed break as the Halloween rush ends today.  The dust in the house has been cleared and the laundry put away.  I've reorganized my work station and this alone has sent me into the upper echelon of happiness.  With the new sewing machine that Richard gave me (thoughtfulness is his strength)  I've also made time to work on a costume for myself, not knowing if we would find a place to go out as a couple.  It felt wonderful to discover that I can successfully make a dramatic alteration on an item of clothing.  The process was fulfilling in a way that I cannot describe.  To make evening wear for oneself is liberating, but also risky as mistakes can send an entire day's work to the trash. 

The Cinderella within is rising to the surface, because now that my dress is hanging, I want to go out dancing with my prince.  The search for an evening event has proved to be a bigger challenge than I anticipated.  I'm having difficulty finding just the right location.  The last time we had a date night, the evening was a great success.  On a warm summer night while walking under the street lights of downtown Greensboro, we discovered the historic Carolina Theater.   A summer film festival was underway.  While images of the Pacific Ocean captivated me during Point Break, we couldn't help being a little bored with the acting, so while sneaking around the theater, we discovered a ballroom on the top floor.  I'd like to return to the same theater for our upcoming night out, but they're playing The Rocky Horror Picture Show with Cast...and I'm afraid to go.

I've never actually seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but know a little about the craziness of it...
It just sounds kinda yucky.

I'm not into the club scene.  I'm not a ballroom dancing type either.
The dancer in me usually ends up dancing at home to music that I like, away from the inebriated public.

I'd considered throwing a little party but then there really isn't enough time.  Most people like to make plans and aren't impulsive.

Then, this morning an event popped up on facebook that has great potential.   My college is hosting an alumni Barn Dance that includes beginning dance lessons at the start, cider, doughnuts, a band and hay rides.

  So, maybe there's hope for another great Date Night.

Pictures to come soon!

Emily

I think of her often yet write about her sparingly.  That's because I feel like it would be awkward for a teen  daughter to have a mom who writes online.  So I choose silence.  Yet she's in my heart all the time and to neglect her here seems to leave the blog terribly unbalanced.  I wonder if she reads it, notices her absence and thinks that I don't love her.

There are moms of teens and adult children who can write about their growing and independent families with great sensitivity and skill.  Perhaps I just have too many emotions wrapped within the blanket of my mother/daughter relationship.  It is like a rare gift that I don't easily open.

Maybe it's enough to start with a milestone.  Today Emily took her ACT exam.  It's hard for me to believe that soon she'll be out of high school and making her way in the world...

I still keep an entire wall of her childhood art.  Now that she's not my tiny, curly haired toddler or my sweet kindergartener, now that she's not playing soccer at the Y or meeting friends at the playground, she's still the same in so many ways.   She's maintained the same sweetness in the way she gives hugs and the kindness in her voice when she says "I love you mom." She's artistic and intelligent, compassionate and funny.

People say parenting is hard.  It's not hard in the way you might expect.  It's not hard because it takes time, patience and resources.  It's not hard because there are sometimes conflicts and power struggles.  It's hard because children are destined to become independent.  It's that paradox that is the most challenging: that we must give them the tools to survive on their own.  We must be attached and at the same time let go.  So I can't hold her on my lap or sing her lullabies.  I have to hold her in my heart and be there in a different way.

How can I begin to write about my children and not be sentimental? They are the brightest lights in my heart.  The ancient dilemma of how to write about the emotion of love still exists.  I suppose poets can do this well through a carefully chosen metaphor.  I don't have a metaphor for this thing called motherhood.  It is joy.  It is heartbreak.  It is everything in between. My daughter is no longer a child.  Yet I hope that she always will nurture the child within. The one who gave my life meaning and direction.  The one who changed everything for the better, just by being herself.

What my hands are busy with

It's almost over...the Halloween blitz that arrived at Knees and Paws! I'm planning to take a much needed break, which will be a "working" break on all the things I've neglected over the last three weeks.
One big problem I'm going to attempt to resolve is that my storage space through picasa (the one blogger uses) is completely full.  Which means either I start deleting old posts, old pictures, or attempt to resize all the ones taken with my new camera.  I'm not sure which will be the better path.  Anyone who knows the best course of action, please share! It seems that pictures under 2000 or so pixels don't count towards the free storage, so perhaps I need to

resize every one before uploading to the web.  Another hoop to jump through!


I hope you're having a great weekend!

~till next time,
Jenny