Not Always an Easy Question

Aliki asked me today: "How ARE you?"


This got me thinking about the nature of the question.
In most cases, it can be a pretty pedestrian question.
You could walk into an A&P and ask someone, "How are you?"
You would most likely get an, "I'm fine and you?" in return.
Most of the time, the question is asked without any real answer.
Most of the time, you ask the question and you don't want the answer.


I also know that I'm usually a caretaker-type personality.
I'm usually the one that people are coming to for help, advice, and guidance (in real life).
So rarely am I asked the question.

And that is OK.
Most of the time, I am OK.
There usually isn't much to tell.
I'm a pretty open book.


So, when I opened my gmail and saw the comment (in the form of an email) where Aliki asked the question, it made me smile. It made me stop for a moment and ask myself:
How ARE you?


Rather a simple question.
It shouldn't be hard to answer.
But it is.
Today it is. Well, sort of.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


I made a lot of progress this past year letting go of the little girl who was screaming on the inside.
But she's back.
She's back after my mom told me that she is leaving my stepdad.
I'm a grown woman, I know.
But the way in which my mom does this knee-jerk reaction thing and well,
running
just brings back some memories which I thought were long dealt with.
On a less selfish, egotistical note
I'm thinking of the implications this will have on Connor and Gracie.



Rav & I have been dealing with a family issue which I really am not at liberty to discuss here.
While it has certainly taken its toll, it has only helped us to talk through some things and take stock.
The ripple effects are heartbreaking.


I'm going through yet another spiritual awakening of sorts and have
come to some realizations that are wonderful, scary, and comforting
all at once. I'd love to blog about this, but I don't know if it will ever come about.


The biggest thing is that, despite turmoil and stress, I'm staying even. I'm not hiding.
I'm good.

Rav and I are strong in our relationship. We have our days, like we all do. But I am so, so thankful for our solid relationship.
I realize how connected we are and how we are lucky to still have passion.


Ours isn't a perfect life.
Far from it.
But we've made it together.
We work hard at it.

And it's perfect for us.



So, to answer the question:
At the end of the day.
When my head hits the pillow
I am thankful.

And I am good.

Fathers and Daughters

You all have sat through countless posts about time spent with Three Dog Night Dad
when I was a little girl and how those times were the happiest of my childhood.

Well since becoming involved in a mature, adult relationship
and transitioning into mommyhood
my dad and I have rarely spent time alone together.
We'd say with best of intentions that we needed to do it.
And well, you know how that goes.
All Cats and the Cradle and all.

This past weekend provided that opportunity
what with my younglings and man away in Massachusetts for a long weekend.
I packed myself a bag and a beach chair
and met my dad down at his beach cottage.

We sat together drinking a few cold ones and chatting.
And then we went out for a quality dinner together.
Upon entering the establishment we received a few sideways looks.
But I figured it's small-town Delaware, they probably don't appreciate a guy with long hair here.
And I shrugged it off.

Later on, after introducing my dad to some audio versions of David Sedaris, and a few rib-cracking laughs later, we were out walking around near a dock.
Again, we're just talking.
We look over to our left and there's a rowdy, good-natured group of locals who are red faced
and uber-smiling.
Good for them. I think to myself.
Then we hear:
Hey! Hey! Hey, lady!
I turn my head and say Yeah?
She replies with:
I dig your old man's beard!!
My dad and I smile and laugh.
We look at each other and my dad replies with
Uh. She's my daughter.
The lady's face becomes an even more pronounced shade of scarlett and apologizes.
I think that's when it hit me.
How often do you see an adult woman spending time alone with her dad?

I was OK with this.
I have no problems spending time with my dad.
But I think once girls hit a certain age, you just rarely see it.
Maybe I'm wrong or maybe my little state just isn't that progressive yet.
It just hit me as kind of sad.

Dirt Between Our Toes & Nobody Knows

I'm sure with inconsistent posts and barely getting by to read any of yours
I barely have a readership.
It is what it is.
You get what you put into things.

And lately my focus has been on reconnecting with kids I barely saw over the fall and winter.
Painting the boudoir of a young couple who has been married for 5 years, had 2 kids, and one messy, stark white, room (that would be Rav & I).

We've been outside.
Hiking, playing, getting dirty.
Sometimes dinner has only consisted of an ice cream cone.
It's been a few, sweet weeks of simple luxuries.
Like ice cream for dinner.
Vegetables?
Oh, we had those last week.
Fruit?
The week before last.
I kid about that.
My kids are eating fine.

A day or two goes by and I realize that we're dirty.
Dirty from play and grass and sweat.
But it's good.
Cleansing even.

I've hitched up the bike trailer to my bike
and the kids and I have headed out with a packed lunch
to our local park.

We've hit fairs, ridden rides, and spent more time together in the past few weeks than
we have in what seems to be the last few years.

We spent the night at the beach with Three Dog Night Dad and Eileen.
We've put our toes in The Atlantic and been covered in sand.

Last night the kids and Rav arrived home after spending 4 days in Massachusetts
sans Mommy.

All the while, we see Connor falling back into old, familiar, anxiety-ridden territory.
And we're tired.
Our family is busting out of this house and desperately wants to spread its wings.
We don't know where or how we'll get there.
Change isn't even on the horizon.
We just feel the itch.

As Time Goes By

Well yet another month+ has rolled on past and I let the blogging ball drop.....again.

In an attempt to scale back spending in these rocky times I don't know when Rav & I will be opting for high-speed again. So I will have to be content to live in the dark ages of dial-up for now. And I do have to say that dialing up has really taken the wind out of my sales in regards to blogging.

I'm home on Easter vacation with the kids this week and figured I'd pop in and out and maybe update this sad little blog.
For those of you who are still interested in what is going on with me, I'll fill you in:

* In February, I received my Reiki II attunement (which is what I think brought about the last post). It was a very intense process and one that I'm happy I went through with. So now I am trying to get my hands on anyone who will let me and trying to figure out a way that I can give people who need healing a little reiki. Rav & I are working out the details.
So...if you know anyone in the Mid-Atlantic who could use a little reiki lift be sure to send them my way ;)

* School is going and I'm trying my best to hang with it. I'm still enjoying it and it is certainly doing it's part to feed my hungry heart (which never seems to get enough knowledge/learning). My plate is just very full and I'm working on trying to remain balanced. The reading I have to undertake for the class I am currently taking is killer and I am a notoriously slow reader.

* Preschool is keeping me insanely busy for a part-time gig. But that will be ending in May until the next school year....I'm looking forward to the break.

* Kids. The kids. Oh yes, my crazy kids. They're slowly and methodically beating me down and killing me. But then, that is their job, right?

* We bought new living room furniture. Our old set was a third-time hand-me-down and I couldn't take it anymore. It was gross and faded and I didn't even like sitting in our livingroom anymore because of it. We found a great deal on a new set, paid cash, and have been happy little clams ever since.
Exciting stuff, huh? Aren't you glad you're reading this riveting stuff?

So that is the update as I can think of it.
I will try to be more on top of my little space here. As I do miss it and all of you out here.

On Christmas, we headed for home from my mother's house after a long, busy day.
The kids were spent and so were we.
Rav & I each have a kid to buckle in and as we do so, Gracie asks me if Santa is coming to our house tonight for more presents.
No, honey. Santa is not coming tonight. Christmas is all done until next year.
These attempts at explaining are futile.
And the look on he face punctuates that.
She is crestfallen.
Maybe even a little depressed.

I remember that feeling.
Though I didn't feel it until I was about 11.
I remember saying to my Dad that the day after Christmas is pretty depressing.
After talking with him about it, I processed it. Made my peace with it as best I could.
However, seeing this realization was over my three-year-old's face has hit me rather hard.
She is over it. She is not asking about it anymore. But seeing her like that broke my heart into a million pieces.

Today was Connor's first day back to school.
Today marks the start of the first full week back to work after the holiday madness.
Today is the start of my classes for the Spring semester.
And it's back to the way we were.
Back to racing around in the morning looking for a matching set of socks.
Back to making sure the kids have breakfast, while my hair is air drying, half-dressed, wild-eyed, and maniacal.
Back to cramming a waffle or 1/4 of a bowl of cereal into my mouth as I run out the door.
Back to racing around trying to make sure we all get to where we need to go. On time.

These mundane rituals signify that, compared to many, we have it good.
I'm trying to remember that as I am dialing up with a 24K connection because our DSL is down.
I'm trying to remember that as I am already obsessing about school work after downloading a 30 page syllabus and wondering how I will balance again. Balance it all.

All while I do this, people are suffering, many of whom are invisible and on the margins.
People are living lives and having babies and losing loved ones and fleeing from erupting volcanoes, losing their belongings in floods, working for nothing, living on nothing, and having babies in shelters in foreign countries.

I keep hearing about this crazy notion of change.
In fact, I'm quite sick of it.
I feel like it's going to turn into this hip, mod, in-thing to say.
Yeah, it will turn into this thing to
say.

And I Think To Myself

The past month or so, I've been doing a lot of reflecting.
And as many of you are probably doing, I am reflecting on the year, my conduct and progress or lack thereof in 2007, etc.

I'm of the mindset that resolutions are pretty lame.
In fact, as I was watching the Today show this morning, I began getting just a tad bit annoyed.
I began thinking about this cycle of unrealistic expectations and inevitable let-downs.
The pieces of spirit that can become broken and left to feel like a failure because
perhaps it didn't quite shave the body down to some ridiculous notion of what beauty or proper weight should be.
Maybe having a cluttered home really is the sign of a happy home and not having a closet that looks like it was ripped out of Posh's house isn't the sign of a failure.
Maybe driving a Honda or a Hyundai rather than a BMW or a Bentley is OK.
I don't know. I mean, there is more than one way up the mountain. I just think resolutions are a set-up for failure and shouldn't we be doing something to feel better about ourselves and each other?

As I've been reflecting on the past year and such, I was thinking about simplicity.
How it is the teeniest of acts that really do start a movement.
Whether that movement be within society or simply within someone else's heart.
That in one way or another we all have the capacity to do this, we just try to make it seem so hard as a way to justify being asses to each other.
An experience I had the other day, finally made the lightbulb go on.

You all know, that have been reading for a time, that I truly try to make it a point to let others know I care. Sometimes it is misconstrued, sometimes it is seen for what it is.
Sometimes I care so much that I become immobilized. It's almost more than I can bear to do or to speak. I become so overwhelmed, so full.

Anyway, I've noticed that opportunities have not presented themselves in "grand" ways for me to extend my hand.
And in fact, I had become quite irritated because I thought I had fallen off the giving train.
That people were not being sent my way for a reason (if that makes any sense).
And the giving of myself feels better.
It feels awful when I am not.

I've been making it a point lately to look directly at people when I am out walking.
And not only that
but to smile at them.
Possibly even say "hello" or "good morning".
Whatever feeling presents itself is what I will do.
(this paragraph makes me sound like a grump. i keep picturing in my head old man Potter from It's A Wonderful Life. I truly don't believe I walked around like that before. I just went about my business like a million other worker ants.
So I've been making this effort, which brings me to the point.....are you shocked that there was one?)

I was on the phone with my academic institution to ask a question the other day. A lady was assisting me with my question and was most helpful. As the call ended, I simply said to her Have a good day.
Pretty innocent. Pretty pedestrian.
I didn't say to her I have the address and phone number to Beckham's house. He's waiting for your call.
I didn't say Oh, I happen to have this extra $1M sitting in my back pocket. Want it?
I simply said Have a good day.
And there was a reaction.
A reaction of shock.
A reaction of pleasant surprise at such an utterance.
(Now listen, I'm not claiming to be this wonderful, always do-gooder.
I know this tale of human interaction is one that could be told a thousand times a day by a thousand other writers who could write it in a more brilliant way. I am simply sharing this experience and the shock of it with you. Sharing it from me, Mrs. Incredible (Tabba) to you, lovely reader.)

I hung up the phone feeling glad that she got off the phone with me in such a way.
And a little sad too.

Sad because it sounded as if she had never heard it before.
How is it that we are so 'busy', so clinical with each other?

I am hopeful though.
Hopeful that things will get better.
Hopeful that maybe if we all could take these resolutions and maybe cram them up - er, that's not nice, T.
(try again)
OK.
Hopeful that maybe rather than worry about driving a car that costs as much as it would to feed a small nation or injecting foreign materials into our faces, or hell worrying about the pile of papers that cram your credenza, desk, and sock drawer
we could just take the time to say
Have a good day.
And smile.
Maybe say hello or good morning.

It sounds idealistic.
I know.
But it makes a difference.

Have It Or You Don't?

Compassion.

This question has been rattling around my brain for a few weeks now & it keeps popping up in unlikely places.

It first came to me as a topic for much heated internal dialogue, after Connor's conference.
(because I'm oh-so neurotic and analytical like that).
His teacher asked us what qualities we like most about Connor.
My answer was his heart - his compassion.
And his teacher agreed and then she said:
That's something you either have or you don't.

I thought this most interesting of a statement.
And quite honestly, it's not something that I ever stopped to really think about before.
It may be elementary, but I've missed out on many things/thoughts that are elementary.

I haven't missed out on it for lack of having it.
That is one thing I can easily say about myself - I am compassionate.
Probably to a fault.

But the idea that people are out there, walking around right now, with no ability or chance of ever having compassion boggles my mind.

I've heard the ever popular
that's how you have sociopaths.

Agreed. I understand that is what makes them so.
But my mind wanders to the possibility that there is more than the lack of compassion at work there.
That the lack of it is a symptom (for lack of a better word).

My bleeding heart self feels that everyone is born with some semblance of compassion, but it is our context, or our nurture, that helps to foster it.
And maybe that is simply just an idealistic way of looking at it.
From the informal "data" that I have collected thus far, I seem to be the only one who thinks this.

I look at my kids - who clearly have compassion for others - and wonder if it is something they have simply learned. And then I wonder how? They have not seen me hand umbrellas out to strangers on a rainy day, they have not been with me when I have handed food out to a stranger.
I realize my compassion extends farther than these two scenarios.
But I wonder if they already had it - and we simply foster it.
Or if it is a completely learned quality/value?

So what say all of you out there?
Do you think compassion is something you either have or you don't?

These Will Have To Do

Here are just some random images I thought I would share.
Because right now, my mind is too empty and too full.
If that makes any kind of sense.

Jug-gernaut

Early Tuesday morning and I am getting dressed slowly, wearily.
That three day weekend we just had went way too fast.


I'm in a trance-like state.
My eyes are open.
It looks as if I am watching the Today show while I slide on my jeans
and look from left to right as I find my shirt.
But I'm not yet awake.


The kids flutter about.
In and out of the room.
Here and there.
Up and down.
Under foot, over foot.

They are entirely too alert for this ungodly hour
and their presence of mind is just beginning to piss me off when I hear...


Hey, Mom! Look! I just found a really cool catapult.

I groggily turn from the TV to the floor where my eldest sits. As he holds his latest prized possession in his hands. He's moving it all about, trying to figure out how to get it to work.
I begin to chuckle despite myself and I reply with...

That's not a catapult, Connor. That is mommy's bra. Can I please have it so I can finish getting dressed?


He was crestfallen that I had just taken away his means of entertainment.
I'm not sure how I feel about wearing something that he considers large enough to call a catapult.

What's It Lke Inside That Head Of Yours, Connor?

We have conferences next week at Connor's school.
I always look forward to these.
I'm most interested to hear what the teacher has learned about Connor and to hear about his progress.

I'm a smart mom.
I know my kid is a genius.
But a mom just likes to hear it over and over again, ya know?


I know words like
stubborn
inattentive
emotional
might be thrown about.
But that's OK.
It's part of his, um,
genius.
OK?
OK.

In an attempt to get to know each child better, the teacher sent home a paper asking about the kindergarten experience thus far.
The things your child especially likes, dislikes, what they say about school, etc.
And the teacher has asked that we bring it in for our conference.


I sat down and began asking Connor the two that seemed the easiest to answer.
The things he likes best about school
and the things he likes the least.


Some of the things he likes best are:
friend of the day
the green playground
the little blocks
Ms. Morris' hair (the librarian) - and OMG, did my son just say that? I need to check this woman out.
housekeeping


Some of the things he likes the least are:
gym
music
art
the blue playground
crayons AND pencils
group time.


I was intrigued by his answer of group time. So I say to my boy Why don't you like group time?
To which he says - (get ready for this...)

I get all sweaty at group time and it makes my belly hurt.


My dear, sweet, nervous boy.
I know exactly what you mean. When mommy is at school and she has to talk in front of people, she feels the same way bud. The exact.same.way.
You get it honest.
************************************************

Tonight is Halloween.
And I am sorry to say that I left my creativity back in Halloween of '06 and did not make anyone's costume this year.

Tonigth we will do what we have done for the past 2 years.
We will go to our friend's house - B & D.
Their three kids and our two get along famously.
Gracie even declared that N was her boyfriend.
We will order pizza and beg for candy in their neighborhood (it's a much safer 'hood than ours.). In fact ours would qualify for a 'hood status. Theirs does not.

Be safe tonight everyone.
And have a great time!

Cellophane. Shoulda Been My Name.

I'm almost afraid to post this.
No. Scratch that.
I am afraid to post this.

I've put myself out there before in this here spot before with pretty messy consequences.
But I've got to get some of this out in an attempt to clear my mind, in an attempt to work it through and let it go.
I'm hoping that when it's all said and done, I will watch it float away.
A red balloon of my irrational thoughts that I will send out in the void.
I will let them go and watch them float of into oblivion until they are the size of a pinhead and then disappear.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I had a feeling that, after a few quiet days and some physical labor, in the form of intense cleaning and heavy lifting of household furniture, that there would be an internal break.
A flood.
The dams and leveys that have been holding me back were bound to break.

Last night, in bed, it happened.
I broke.
My head ached like I've never had my head ache before.
The pain so intense.
Usually, crying is a bittersweet release.
It only hurt more to cry. Physically hurt.
At one point, I said to Rav
I feel like I am on the brink of madness.

It took me about a half an hour of crying to get out one word.
A half an hour.
To speak but a few words.
To speak the words that I so fought against.
And when I finally had the ability to speak this is what I said ( in a nutshell):
I feel like I am completely forgettable.

Being the nice guy he is and the ever-devoted husband, he of course, argued this.
And it is a nice sentiment. Really. That he says that I am not.
But it doesn't change the fact that someone feels that way.
After an entire lifetime of feeling it.
Some of it may be self-inflicted and as a result/circumstances of an ever-changing life.
Some of it may be my inability to properly cultivate relationships - in real life and out here.
Some of it may simply be residual hauntings of a past life.
Which, despite all of my personal growth and status as a "big-girl", leaves me still feeling it from time to time.

Now don't get me wrong.
I'm airing.
I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After a few more dull thuds of pain behind my eyeballs and forehead, I managed to get out that I believe this emotional upheaval I've been facing is a direct result of my reiki treatment.
Rav was not pleased to hear me say this. Not in the least bit.

I don't think she did this to me. Quite the opposite. It was there already. But the treatment was like a hot compress to a pimple. It just drew out what was already there.

I began discussing how I feel disconnected from my BFF, from my other close girl-friend, this here blog and the people I've been trying to cultivate relationships with, even Three Dog Night Dad.
I told him how someone once told me the reason people "forget about me" is because I am often too laid back and not demanding enough - I'm not the squeaky wheel.
I'm the one people turn to, IRL, but when it comes time for me to need someone, everyone else has vacated.
And I just hold it all in.
Until the damn breaks.
Which it always does.
And what a mess it makes.

Rav's response to my blubbering purging was that I am fiercely loyal. I am strong, independent - a giver. I give so much of myself and expect so much from myself, so I in-turn, expect a lot from others.
The problem with this, he indicates, is that most people are not willing to give back, equally.

And I see his point.
To a certain extent.

I don't give of myself simply for what I will gain in return.
I don't offer up my loyalties and my friendship hoping to gain any "extras".
I do it because it is me and it is in my heart to do so.
And for no other reasons.

Right now, it is just a lonely place to be.
And I hope that it is just my irrational feelings
that are leaving me with the impressions
of being forgettable.

Piece By Piece, Little By Little, Bit By Bit

Today we spent the day fall cleaning and moving the computer/desk/filing cabinet out of the livingroom and up to Gracie's old room - which was transformed into the playroom-the-kids-never-use. Now half of Gracie's old room is the playroom. The other half is a "work area" for the two grown-ups in the house.

The weather has been perfect around here for such tasks.
Cold.
Windy.
Rainy.
Fall finally seems to have arrived and it feels wonderful.

Thursday I was supposed to chaperon a field trip to a pumpkin farm with Gracie's preschool class. However, weather not permitting, we got a day at home. Just her & I.
It was spent making up nonsensical Knock-Knock jokes, cuddling, and doing nothing in particular.
I did make a batch of Lentil & Sausage Soup that was heavenly.

I have pulled the heavier blankets out & look forward to slipping under them each & every night.
Despite the pull I felt to veg out in front of the TV last night, I opted instead, to light a few candles, curl up under our most delicious blanket, and listen to the rain falling on our A/C window unit (that we probably won't think to remove until January). I pretended we had a tin roof and fell asleep to the metallic drip-drop! and tried to let my stress wash away with the heavy rain that was falling.

Here are a few snapshots from today:

I wonder how much longer they will enjoy doing this together?

This I think is so precious because of her reflection. Click on it if you would like to see it enlarged.

After spending much of the day cleaning upstairs, I found a brown grocery bag that is especially for food donations that came to us in the newspaper, completely empty. As soon as I began to ask out loud where the cans were, I saw them. I still don't know which of my wee ones did this, but something about it touched my heart. And I don't really know why.

I don't know why I was inspired to take this. But looking at all of the colors of all of the thread I own makes me feel....hopeful.

I don't know what else to say about this picture. I just think it is darling.

Hope you all are having a great weekend!

Advice From The Ever-Wise Fortune Cookie

Constant grinding can turn an iron rod into a needle.

Yup. That about sums it up.

Self-Involvement Is Hitting An All-Time High

For one reason or another, I haven't written about issues or topics that have been weighing on my mind.
Despite the fact that there are usually many.

I am so wrapped up in the fog that is in my mind and permeating every cell that I cannot even begin to tackle other subjects.
Something has happened to me in the past week and a half.

I'll be damned if I could tell you what it is/was.
All I know is that there is a general discontent,
as well as,
a general goo that has slung itself to my very being.

I feel like I have been feeling like this for way too long.
And I just can't take it anymore.

Reading a blog is like scaling Mt. Everest.
Having energy to just get through the day is unheard of.
Patience?
Gone.

I cannot step outside of this funk long enough to enjoy the good things
or wrap my heart around the not-so-good things.

I'm searching myself and looking back trying to find out what exactly
happened.

And nothing has come to me as of yet.

I know that I have been rather cut-off socially due to the demands of part-time preschool teaching and my full-time student status.
I have not given of myself out here
or in real-life.
Other then in the occupations and roles that I have to employ.

My soul has not been fed.
And I feel it.

Could it be possible that my little old soul has a cold?

What do you think?
Do you believe that a soul/a person's essence can suffer from a "cold"?

I have to say that, right now, I am a believer.

The Sacred Place Slowly Fades Away

**continued from the previous post**

I begin to speak.
And the first few things I say are
This was amazing!
It was so intense.

K says Oh, good! I'm so glad!

She says a lot of people have told me that they often feel intoxicated or high during the treatment. And she asks me if I felt that way.
I explained to her that yes, in fact I had felt incredibly dizzy. But as quickly as it came, it vanished.
She asks if there is anything else I would like to share.
I tell her Yes & that she'll probably think I am nuts.
To which she ensures me that she won't.

I begin to explain what happened with my lower back.
This information she finds very interesting.

She begins to explain that I ...took in a lot of energy.
I look at her, slightly alarmed, and ask if this is a bad thing.
She says no, it just means that I needed it.
(I half-way want to ask her if she is exhausted at all, but decide against it).

K then begins to say that while she is applying her treatment, she tries to meditate as well and if she is prompted by an energy or thought, she just follows it.
During the treatment she was prompted to add only one stone to my body - the pink onyx.
She says that the pink onyx symbolizes love - and that she doesn't know why she was prompted to use this stone, but she was.

She also begins to tell me that when she was holding my right hand, she felt like there was a goal or something that I would like to accomplish, but that something is standing in my way. Something is holding me back.
And she asked that whatever it is that is impeding my progress to be removed.

I thanked K and she left the room to wait for me.

I sat in the silence of the room.
The energy shifted from when I had walked in to the now.
I sat on the edge of the table, rubbing my head and my face, and just breathing deeply for a few more times before I had to head back out to the world.
I looked up and straight ahead from where I sat was a picture.

The picture was of a fantasy-type genre, and the artist made use of earthy tones.
It was dark in appearance - blacks and all shades of browns and golden hues.
There was a mermaid sitting on a rock, on the edge of a shore.
She had the most, haunting eyes. They went straight through me.
She looked peaceful, content.
Yet there was something else in the eyes that I can't quite define.
In her arms, she held a baby.
The baby's head was turned in the opposite direction - burying itself in it's momma's chest, if you will.

When I saw this picture, actually saw it, I felt like I had been hit in the head, physically punched. It was a physical reaction.
And I began to sob.

This wasn't a bad thing.
I believe it was just a release from the treatment.

However, there is something to this picture.
There is something that resonates with me.
To feel such a powerful reaction to it.

I feel awkward talking about this picture.
And to be perfectly honest, this is the first time I am speaking of it.
I have not recounted the experience to anyone yet.
Until now, that is.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The energy shift between the room within and the room outside
is unbelievable.

Despite the overwhelming emotions, it is was so totally worth it.

I made an appointment to go back next month & strongly recommend everyone treat themselves to a reiki treatment.

I have to remind myself to tell my stepmom, Eileen that this was probably one of the best birthday gifts anyone has ever gotten me.

A Trip To The Sacred Place

When I walk through the door, I become awash in soothing smells.
A mixture of a subtle oil and maybe a slight whiff of coconut.
The air has a hint of smokey smell and ambiance to it.
It's not overwhelming and it is just barely noticeable.
Possibly from the candles that sprinkle the room.

The room is dark, comforting, warm.
It is a room I fear I don't want to leave.
It is almost uterine - in that it feels like the safest and most comfortable of all rooms.

Ethereal pictures are on each and every wall.

Each detail of the room makes itself known on its own due time.

The music, which has been playing all along, decides to make its entrance into my slowly de-clouded and de-cluttered mind.
It has soft beats, soothing panflutes dance their way into my ears and weaving and winding its way into every pore and cell.

K says to me in a voice that meshes with the whole vibe of this room in such a perfect way, to have a seat, remove my shoes and socks, and to hop up onto the table.

She instructs me to lay down.

And she guides me through deep, cleansing breaths.
I inhale deeply through my nose
and
exhale every ounce of breath through my mouth.

It is so quiet.
And my breathing seems as loud as an elephant sneeze in this peaceful, modest room.

K guides me through meditation
and leads me to my sacred place.
Where she leaves me feeling content and happy.

Suddenly I become intoxicatingly dizzy.
I feel very much like I have the dreaded, drunken room spins.
I think to myself if I feel like this the entire time I am here I will probably get sick.
Then
as quickly as it came
it was gone.
And I felt a slight nudge on my lower back that seemed to originate from the table.


By this time, I am so far gone that the only way I know she is there is that I feel the warmth of her hands touch my head and this inspires a memory or a thought.
She cups my ears and these memories and feelings become so intense.
I well up with tears.
She moves her hands to hold my shoulders
and the tears stop.
And one lonely tear escapes and makes its descent down my cheek.

K moves to my abdomen and then quickly walks away.
She returns and places a stone on my stomach.
I only know this by my sense of touch.
She then places a stone under my left hand.

After she places her hands on my stomach, she begins a gentle rocking motion on my mid-section.
This movement, though subtle and gentle, feels so perfectly right.
And again, I am blissfully happy and free as I travel through my sacred place.
The place I miss so much.
The place of my childhood.
The place I will always think of as home.

She makes her way to my knees and my feet.
She returns to my left hand, she keeps the stone in my hand and presses her hands on my hand.
And does the same with my right hand.

K sits down in her chair and politely tells me that I may begin to slowly open my eyes and sit up at my own leisure.
And she will wait with her head bowed and eyes closed
until I am ready to talk.

I do this slowly...
and she looks at me with expectant, excited eyes.

HELLO, Hello, hello

I swear I'm still here.

No, really I am.

I just need to get through this week.
Just this week.

I can put a few research papers behind me.
And a couple of finals....
Then I'll be good to go.

I'll be able to visit you all and sprinkle my little comments over your way.
In the meantime, I'm missing you and am visiting when I can.

Autumnal Healing

Well, autumn has finally made her grand entrance to little old Delaware.
It is chilly, rainy, and a slight wind is kissing the leaves.
It is pushing them down the road in a skitter-skat motion.
Just barely nudging them along.

And it is delicious.
I love this weather.

To top it all off, I am heading to the small town where my Dad & Eileen live.
Eileen is treating me to my first reiki treatment today.
I am so excited.

After my treatment, we're going to have dinner together. Just the two us.

Maybe the treatment will cure my writer's block.
Then again, maybe no.
But my skin is itching in anticipation.

Teach Your Children Well

Set the scene:
Late Saturday evening, after we all came back home from a grown-up time in Baltimore and the kids having grandparent time. Rav & I begin bedding down for the night.

We were chatting and canoodling and just generally being cutesy before bed.

And Action!
We heard Connor get out of bed and make his way into the bathroom.
We stopped our little flirtation to listen and we heard Connor began to expell his stream.
And as this happened there was an unusual um, tone to it.
We both look at each other and mirrored identical looks and passed identical thoughts:
That doesn't sound good.

Rav jumps up and heads into the hallway to find a stream of pee followed by a puddle.

The stream is making it's way from the doorway of the chilun's bedroom, making a vast arc, and collecting in a pool on the hallway floor.

There is our son, with his pants around his ankles in all his glory.
Really, there was nothing left to do but let him finish at that point.

Rav asks Connor with a hint of exasperation and alarm in his voice
Buddy!? What are you doing?!
To which Connor replies as he begins to sob a little
Gracie told me to do it!!!!

Meanwhile, Gracie is entrenched in slumber.

Rav cleans things up as I sit laughing from the bed.
This did not amuse him at all.
And obviously, it wasn't the bathroom that we heard Connor walking to. Just his doorway which in his dazed state must resemble a toilet.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunday we made our way down to see Three Dog Night Dad, Eileen, and my brothers.
Half-way there, Connor says to me
Mom. I didn't know that your brothers were around when Mimi and Pop-Pop were married.

I said They weren't around Connor. I was the only one.
Curiousity grips him firmly and he says
Well how did Uncle Kenny & Uncle Ian become your brothers?

I explained plainly Well. When Mimi & Pop-Pop were done being married, Pop-Pop met Mom-mom and married her.....
and as I begin to explain that my brothers are my brothers because we share the same dad, Connor breaks in with this:

OH!!!! I see. It was a switch-off marry.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Connor comes home from school on a daily basis with a worksheet that is broken down into two parts. The top part has four empty boxes to draw in and the bottom part is where the practice the letter they are working on that day.

Yesterday, the class worked on the letter 'T'.

I saw that he had drawn a turtle.

He had even written our last name, which has two T's in it.

He drew a train.

And the last picture was less recognizeable.

I ask Connor to identify for me the picture he had drawn.

He clucked a little and says It's a toilet!!!

When I Come Around

Mid-terms and other daily necessities are keeping me away from blogging and commenting.

Thoughts are starting to free themselves from the mental glue and quicksand that have been keeping them trapped inside.
I think they will flow forth soon.

Tomorrow I have the day off. And I am anticipating a new post tomorrow over an early morning cup of joe.

So until then....