Mom and Dad

21 08 2012

Bear sow with 3 cubs in forest

You are the only people in the world who’ve known me since the moment I took my first breath.

You gave me life.

You committed your lives to making certain that I was safe, fed, clothed and sheltered.

You taught me what you knew about this world.

You gave me pearls of wisdom, borne from a life lived in your shoes:   Sometimes I liked it, sometimes I didn’t.  But you loved me enough to share those pearls with me, anyway.

When I skinned my knees, you comforted me.

When I fell, you lifted me up, then taught me how to do it myself.

You took on this job of raising me, knowing that the end goal was to teach me well enough that I would be able to stand alone and let you go someday.

You always did the very best you could, with what you knew at the time:  Never less.  Often more.

At suppertime, you ate the chicken wings and necks:  I didn’t know then that it was so I could have the meatier pieces.

You loved me so much that you were willing to risk losing my affection when you disciplined me:  Being loved was secondary to you.  Teaching me what I needed to know was paramount.

When I was grown, you watched me as I headed for the cliff’s edge, with love and hope and fear and a giant prayer in your heart:  Some things, you knew, I had to learn for myself.  The days of kissing boo-boos away were past.  That must have been harder than hard.

When I succeeded, you cheered me on.  When I failed, you cheered me on:  You never stopped believing in me.

I’m so lucky to still have you both in my life.

Now, it’s my chance to give back to you just a tiny fraction of what you’ve given to me:  Some people never have that chance.  I’m glad I do.

© Janet Mitchell, August 2012


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Aging Lenses

12 08 2012
English: There is no fear, until we make it up.

English: There is no fear, until we make it up. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Age has allowed me to back up, to view through a widened lens, to appreciate the chaos of my youth, and to make unnecessary the clarification of the present.   Age has emboldened me not to be fearless, but to embrace fear for what it is.  What a surprise that fear, then, loses its power and transforms into acceptance and peace. 

©Janet Mitchell,  August 2012


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Living in the Moment: Success

21 07 2012
Tracking the light of consciousness...

Tracking the light of consciousness… (Photo credit: esomangraphics)

I wonder how many books and articles have been written about “success”?  Probably enough to carpet the earth.  And, if I did a survey and asked one hundred people to give their definition of success, my guess is that I would get one hundred different definitions.

Same goes for “failure”.

I asked myself to define success and failure.  Here’s what I came up with:

Success usually means I’ve arrived at one, of two or three possible, expected outcomes (future based).

Failure usually means that I’ve arrived somewhere else (future based).

So, I started thinking about how much I limit myself with those definitions.  And that led me to wondering why it is that I feel disappointed when I haven’t arrived at one of those possible, expected outcomes.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out that disappointment has to do with forgetting to live in the moment, with becoming so invested in the future, that I’ve overlooked the golden opportunities that are right in front of me.

Take passion for an example.  Passion requires presence.  Passion isn’t something that happens yesterday or tomorrow.  It’s something that happens in the present moment.  Passion is its own reward.  Passion is independent of outcome.  It’s about being present, now.

So, I’ve changed my definitions of success and failure.  If I can ask myself one question, and the answer is “yes”, then I’m living in the present moment.  That question is: Would I be doing this if there was no guarantee of any particular outcome?  If the answer is “no”, then I’m not truly present in the moment.

Now, that feels better.

©Janet Mitchell, July 2012


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Writing Your Passion

19 07 2012

Write as if you were the only person reading it,

then wrap yourself in it,

celebrate it,

revel in your creation.

It is, after all, your passion.

No one can create it but you.

©Janet L Mitchell, July 2012


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A Heart, Not Broken

19 06 2012
English: Broken heart sewn back together

Broken heart sewn back together (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

They say you heal from a broken heart.  I disagree.  I think a broken heart is a teacher that stays with us, for as long as we live.  And as we learn to live with it, it becomes fuller and larger and whole, with heightened capacity to love and to be connected.

Whatever the reason for the broken heart, a separation from someone you love, a break-up, a divorce, a death, the pain is real: physically, emotionally and spiritually.  What healing means is not that you come to feel no pain, but that you learn how better to live with it.  Pain comes in different sizes, shapes and dimensions.  But it always leaves a scar, a reminder somewhere in the psyche that something once there is now missing or changed.  It leaves a reminder for us that we have been willing to take a chance, to follow our heart’s voice, and to risk that perhaps, we may suffer the pain of loss, or we may have the pleasure of a union, however temporary or permanent that may be.  The lesson of love, itself, never dies.  The scar is only a reminder that we miss the physical presence of that person we love.

Scars don’t have to be bad.  They can be a reminder to ourselves that we’ve had the courage to be vulnerable, to open ourselves to love.  A badge of walking into life with open arms.  Scars are a visible reminder that we have truly lived, have been willing to step out there, without guarantee.  And scars don’t mean we must stop, there, in our tracks.  Scars don’t have to mean we can’t move on.  Moving on means that we have the courage to be vulnerable, even when we know we could feel pain, again.  Scars can be the teacher who helps us reflect on how deeply we all are connected, and the teacher who helps us see who we really are.

I believe that love is always worth the risk.  Whatever becomes of that, whatever form that takes, we always learn from love.  It is the greatest teacher there is.

©Janet Mitchell, June 2012


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This Sacred Day

14 06 2012
English: Sculpture "Mother of Fair Love&q...

English: Sculpture “Mother of Fair Love”(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I look at you in wonder, this beautiful human, blossomed into a woman of grace.  My mind reels back to the day you were born, the sound of your first cry, those blue, blue eyes that locked onto mine.  I thought then, you belong to me.  You carved a place into my heart, a place where you’ll live forever.

This day, this sacred day of yours.  It belongs to you.  Your wedding day.  The day you’ll lock yourself  in the embrace of another, the day you’ll pledge your life to him, to have and to hold, forever, until death rends you apart.  But you’ll never be able to tear yourself from my heart.  You’ll always be my little girl.

You stand there, wrapped in a cloud of something beyond beauty.  I smell your hair, and breathe in that baby-smell that I’ve known for so many years.  The wind gently tosses those blonded locks, once braided into pigtails that flopped when you ran, but now lifts in soft waves around that still-baby face.  Sunshine kisses the blooms of roses on your cheeks, blushed with the excitement of all those dreams you dream.  Sparkles of star dust dance round your smiling mouth, and I feel baby kisses once given to me.  Will his kisses hold you with such tenderness?

Your hands, now long and lithe, a single finger wrapped in gold and diamonds, that hand that once folded into mine, will soon be folded into the hand of your beloved.  I see those hands, still plump and dimpled as when you were just a babe, grappling with determination to hold that crayon straight, straining to draw stick-figures of you and me.

You walk so confidently down that aisle, all eyes on you.  Those legs that once ran four steps to my one, just to keep up with my stride, now walk evenly with mine, not running, but gliding on air, all grace and poise and confidence, each step drawing you closer to your love.  My hand, still folded around yours, and I wonder, can I release it to the care of someone else?  Can I trust any other to care for you, to love you, to treat you with tenderness, always, as I once did and forever will?  Rain should fall to hide my bitter-sweet tears, as I give your hand to his.

This is your day, your sacred day.  I feel the wind against my cheek: a mother’s whispered, wordless prayer that only love and joy and peace will follow you.  The sunshine caresses my body: a mother’s wish that life will wrap you only in warmth.  A sprinkle of rain that touches my face: the heavens washing away the bitter-sweet sadness as I watch you begin a new life of your own.  The stillness, the silence than hang in the air, before that sealing kiss, before those life-changing, poignant words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife”: the trepidation mixed with hope and prayer, cause me to hold my breath, then exhale, giving you over to your lover.

And it is done.  The ecstasy and hopes and dreams wash over the faces of you and your beloved, as you march confidently into the world, two lives woven together as one.  Silently, I wish you hope and love and peace, I wish the storms in your lives be few, I wish you a lifetime of happiness and wonder and awe, I wish that you will forever be bathed in the exquisite arms of love.

A rush of glorious, wordless joy washes over me and through me, as I am struck that I’ve just given you that ultimate gift of a mother’s love: that gift of letting you go, trusting that I’ve taught you well.  No matter, that place you carved into my heart when you were born will never be erased.  And that place will always be your home.

©Janet Mitchell, June 2012


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Defining Moments in Time

26 05 2012

English: Happy human Humanist logo, white and ...

It was a very simple moment in time, which I recognized as it was happening: it was one of those moments in my life that defined me.

I had returned to school in my late thirties.  I sat in a class called “Women’s Studies”.  They probably don’t have those anymore, but they did then.

The instructor stood at the front of the class and said, “Your assignment is to take out a piece of paper, and in one sentence, state what it is you want in life.”

I reflected, only for a few seconds.  I wrote:

“To love, to be loved, to be happy.”

The instructor walked around the room and silently read each student’s statement.  When she got to my desk, she read what I’d written, arched a single eyebrow at me, and said, “Well, now, that’s quite a tall order.”

I looked directly back at her and said, “Is it?”

It hasn’t changed.  That statement still defines me.  No, I don’t always love, and no, I’m not always loved, and I’m most certainly not always happy.  But there’s always a glimmer of all three, sitting there waiting to be recognized by me.

©Janet Mitchell, May 2012


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Those Pesky Old Habits of Mine

24 05 2012
Deutsch: Frühlingslandschaft in der Schweiz (A...

Grooves in Old Dirt Road (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ever notice how you can almost let your car drive itself down a dirt road, one which you’ve travelled everyday for years?  The grooves have become so worn and deep that the tires just follow right along.  You can sit back, turn on the tunes, and enjoy the ride.  The only thing you have to do is press on the accelerator or brake once in a while..

But what if you want to take a different route?  What if you don’t want your car to take you down that same old grooved road?  What if you decide on a different destination?  Well, then, that will take three things, and they all will require effort for quite a while before your car doesn’t automatically drive itself down those old grooves.

  • Attention
  • Intention
  • Action

That’s the way those old, pesky habits work.  The neuropathways in our brains become so deeply grooved over the years that we literally, without thinking, without much awareness at all, do stuff.  The stuff we’ve always done.  The way we’ve always done it.  And this is especially true if that “something” brings pleasure or averts pain.  That’s because we’re designed to #1: move away from pain, and #2: move toward pleasure.  So, how do we create healthier patterns of accomplishing this?  No, we don’t install a GPS.  That would be too easy, and it wouldn’t work.  Changing those old patterns will require attention, intention and action.  The hard part is repetitively paying attention, reminding ourselves of our new intention, then taking an action that is different than that our old habits want us to take.  Remember, the pain is in having to make the effort to change the pattern, and the pleasure, which is not immediate, is the end goal and it will happen, provided we persist.

How do you become a great writer?  You write, and write, and write, and write.  Even when you don’t want to.

How do you become a great violinist?  You practice, and practice, and practice, and practice.  Even when you don’t want to.

How do you stop smoking?  You don’t smoke, and you don’t smoke, and you don’t smoke, and you don’t smoke.  Even when you want to.

Forget those old things you’ve read about neuroplasticity, and how it takes about 21 days to form new neuropathways.  Try more like six or twelve months.  And know that’s the way it is, and if you are persistent with your attention, intention and action, new ways of doing things will prevail.

Remind yourself, when you get discouraged, how long it took to form those deep grooves in that dirt road, those grooves that your car tires just follow along, allowing you to lapse into nearly complete unconsciousness.  That’s fine, if you’re a robot.  But if you want to have choice in your life, living unconsciously doesn’t work well.

It takes attention to note the tires have slid back into the old grooves, a reminder of your intention to steer your tires in a different path, followed by action to take control of that steering wheel and make those tires turn onto a different path.  It will take time, but if you persist, you’ll find you’ve created many different options, many possible destinations, and you’ll be consciously in control of where you are going.

©Janet Mitchell, May 2012.

 

 


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Daily Musings for the Week

7 05 2012
Planets of the Solar System

Planets of the Solar System (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

SUNDAY:  Today is the day of sol, of that big, bright, warming orb in the sky that brings life to this planet–or death to all that would venture too near.  Today I will sit by the window, or outside in the open air, and consider the live-giving light streaming into my being.  I will consider the light that filters, however dimly, through overcast skies, even thunderclouds.  I will consider that, if I open a door from a light-filled room, light streams out into the darkness; but if open a door from a darkened room, darkness does not spill out into the light. I will ponder the shiny glimmer of sunlight reflecting off of the leaves of a tree, the light, through the miracle of photo-synthesis, that takes a sprout barely peeking its head from the soil, and transforms it into a towering tree; that turns a germinating seed into a bountiful meal at my table to nourish me.  I will let my body bathe in the sun’s life forces, I will bask in the warmth of the light penetrating my skin.  For just a few moments, today, I will ponder only the light. 

MONDAY:  Today is the day of the moon, of luna, that orb that lights our way at night, whose awesome power pulls massive oceans to and fro, that watches over lovers’ embraces, that keeps our feet firmly pressed against the ground.  Tonight, I will gaze at the moon, and consider its indescribable strength, subtly disguised in softness.  And, if clouds obscure the moon’s silvery glow, I will consider the great seas, whose tides are undeterred by clouds, or snow, or thunderstorms.  The moon’s greatness is unconcerned with such a trivial thing as the most ferocious weather.  I will peer at the shapes and patterns on the moon, and sit in wonder:  the man in the moon I saw as a child, is he still there? how many ages have those craters pocked the seemingly smooth, round face of luna?  what secrets are hidden on the dark side of the moon?

TUESDAY: Today is the day of Mars, the Roman and Greek god of war.  Today, I will, therefore, consider peace.  I will consider that, despite warring across the millenia, across the world, today my body can feel peace.  I will thank those who have died in wars, giving me peace today, aware of how fleeting peace can be.  I will acknowledge that, no matter the situation or circumstance, I have the power to access that inner peace, that stillness, at will.  I will consider that peace begins within, then emanates outward to those around me.  Today I can smile at my neighbor, at a stranger, I can soothe the spirit of a cat or a dog with the stroke of a hand on its coat.  Invisible wars wage in my body, revitalizing me.  I will feel the blood pulsing through my veins, traveling from cell to cell, warding off invaders that would otherwise harm me.  I will thank my body for its work to restore nature’s peace and balance.  I will look for a way to make peace, today, if only for one instant, if only with one person.  For a few moments, before I begin my day, I will consider peace.

WEDNESDAY:  Today is the day of Mercury, the day of movement and travel.  Today I will consider how my body and my mind move from place to place, taking me where I need to be.  I will move each finger on my hands, however quickly or slowly, and marvel at how they respond to my commands.  I will consider, with gratitude, each movement of my body, however small.  I will feel my eyes blink, touch a finger against my body and marvel at the sensation.  I will be aware of how it feels to swallow, to draw air into my lungs and then to breathe out, to feel the pulse of my heart throughout my body.  I will move my awareness from my toes to my head, joint by joint, one part of my body at a time, and give thanks to each part of me.  Where I feel pain, or where I cannot move, or where I cannot feel, I will acknowledge that, then move on.

THURSDAY:  Today is the day of Jupiter, the day of lovers and descendants.  Today I will consider my heritage, without judgment, simply with grace.  I will consider the miracle that allowed me to be born, that if only one person had not met one other person, those whom I’ve never even known, those who lived decades, centuries ago, perhaps I would not be me.  I will honor those lovers, past and present, who played a part in my life, however briefly.  I will honor them for sharing a part of their lives with me.  Today I will ponder those who will follow me, my children, my grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and the multitudes of offspring I will never know.  Today I will marvel at the lives not yet conceived, and sit in wonder at who they might be.

FRIDAY:  Today is the day of Venus, the Roman goddess of love.  Today I will reflect on the ever-present love that surrounds me, that love from others, and that love that lives within me, permeates me, gives life its only true meaning.  I will ponder how love feels.  I will marvel at the different forms love takes.  I will consider the love I have for my friends, my family, my pets, the earth, and I will notice how distinctly each love marks itself.  I will reflect on pure love, which can only exist without condition, that it cannot be destroyed, it cannot be shackled with reason or degree, it cannot be cast aside by death, once born it lives for eternity. 

SATURDAY:  Today is the day of Saturn.  Jupiter, Saturn, and their moons have helped to preserve our earthly existence. These planets and their moons, have orbits and gravitational pulls that are perfectly tuned to shield the earth from onslaughts by asteroids and comets.  Saturn is one of our protectors, capturing and absorbing those asteroid titans that could, if not for Saturn and Jupiter, hurl themselves into Earth, some large enough to end all life as we know it.  Today I will reflect upon the Earth, and upon our many protectors.  I will take just a few moments tonight to gaze into the darkened sky, and I will marvel at the perfect orchestration, the brilliant choreography of the ever-so-subtly changing, planetary orbits.  I will give thanks to the earth for bearing me up, for giving me a sheltering place in this massive, wonderous place in space, and for her life-sustaining gifts.  For a few moments tonight, I will consider this solar system, this galaxy, this universe, and let myself feel awestruck by its inconceivable power.

© Janet Mitchell, May 2012.  All Rights Reserved.


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I Dunno-Ness

18 04 2012

Andrea Elliott, in her wonderful blog, Holistic Words, wrote a great post regarding the meaning of life.  It’s worth your while to take a look at:  http://holisticwords.wordpress.com/2012/04/17/the-meaning-of-life/.

In response to her blog, I stated that in regard to “the meaning of life”, it’s very important for me to be okay with “I dunno”.  It truly is a large key to my own feeling of well-being.  After all, I spend a great deal of my life in the state of “I Dunno-Ness”.

Tibetan endless knot Nederlands: Tibetaanse On...

Tibetan endless knot Nederlands: Tibetaanse Oneindige knoop (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It sometimes feels okay, and it sometimes feels awful, and at other times, being in I Dunno-Ness just feels neutral.  Usually, I Dunno-Ness allows me to be more creative, because it’s those times I find myself being more curious.   It’s when I’m in the state of I Dunno-Ness that I look around and explore, more than I would if I saw the world through a lens of black and white.

How about you?  Are you okay with I Dunno-Ness?


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