Month: January 2013

Fixing a year in amber

2012 has already begun to recede alarmingly from my memory.  Maybe that’s because since the 3rd, I have been in bed with a fever, coughing, headaches, neck pain, exhaustion, aches (more on excitement related to this illness later this week).

When I read Kristen’s thoughtful questions this morning I thought they might be a good way to try to capture the essence of a year that is already slipping through my fingers.  A way to fix those 366 days, which I know were jammed full of laughter and tears and frustration and beauty and pain, a bit more into the amber of memory.

So, here goes:

1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?

Probably a constellation of things having to do with writing.  Starting to blog for the Huffington Post (thanks Farah and Lisa for your support there!), letting go of a long-held dream, continuing to engage with thoughtful, wonderful readers here, and some other developments that are still nascent.

2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?

Some professional uncertainty in our family that has been resolved.

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?

I continued to fall in love with my own children, and with my own life.

4. What was an unexpected obstacle?

New nagging problems with my knee, the death of my grandfather, an uptick in bickering between the children.

5. Pick three words to describe 2012.

short, surprising, routine

6. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe your 2012 (don’t ask them; guess based on how you think your spouse sees you).

scary, content, tiring

7. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe their 2012 (again, without asking).

unsettling, reflective, clarifying

8. What were the best books you read this year?

The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe, Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner (for third time), The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, Harry Potter #6 (for the second time), Harry Potter #3 (for the third time).

9. With whom were your most valuable relationships?

With my husband, Grace, and Whit.  I grow ever more clear on what really matters.

10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year?

I started drinking green juice every single day, and ate significantly more healthfully as a whole.  Current obsession: roasted fennel (thanks HLKS for that one).

11. In what way(s) did you grow emotionally?

I’m realizing that all of life is one long spiral around the same central issues.  I’ve stopped beating myself up when I feel like a broken record (most of the time), and started realizing that there’s a reason I return, over and over again, to the same set of unresolved tensions and questions.

12. In what way(s) did you grow spiritually?

I’ve made continuing strides in my efforts to be more present, to let go of my attachment to how I wanted it to be.

13. In what way(s) did you grow physically?

I’m not sure I did.  Another year’s worth of wrinkles.

14. In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?

I’m becoming clearer and clearer on who my true friends are, and more and more aware of how much I love, trust, and need those in my inner circle.

15. What was the most enjoyable part of your work (both professionally and at home)?

Starting to feel I am building real relationships with professional clients, and also beginning to feel ready to own “writer” as one of my vocations.

16. What was the most challenging part of your work (both professionally and at home)?

Trying to juggle everything I need to do on a given day without dropping anything major.

17. What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?

Probably twitter.  But I love it so.

18. What was the best way you used your time this past year?

Running early in the morning.  Every time the alarm goes off and it’s pitch dark and 20 degrees I wonder why I do it, and then when I get home and the coffee is made and my house is asleep and I’ve run four or five miles, I am glad I did.  That is probably my favorite time of day, running under the still-setting moon and stars, watching the sky break into sunrise along the horizon.

19. What was biggest thing you learned this past year?

That there is no end.  There is no destination.  There is only now.  I learn this every year, over and over again.

20. Create a phrase or statement that describes 2012 for you.

To live is to die to how we wanted it to be. (Jack Kornfield)

 

I’ll see you in the morning

Bedtime is parenthood distilled.  Those minutes in dusky bedrooms contain the essence of all that is conflicted and painful and extraordinarily beautiful about this season of my life.  Grace and Whit are often at their softest, their most thoughtful, loving, and receptive, as they say their prayers and talk quietly to me and give and receive kisses and roll over, beloved animals clutched against their chests.  I am aware to the point of pain of how sweet and fleeting these moments at my childrens’ bedsides are, with the lullabyes they still listen to wafting through the air and their eyes shining in the dim nightlight-lit darkness.

But the truth is I am also often tired myself, and wanting to get to my short window of time alone before I go to bed myself.  Sometimes I feel impatience surging in my chest, and I try to tamp it down, remembering how precious these minutes are, reminding myself to look closely at my children, to listen, to brush kisses on their foreheads, to breathe in their shampoo-fresh hair and still-young-child smell.

Always, I whisper, as I go, “I’ll see you in the morning.”  And always they smile faintly at me, already drifting into sleep.  And I close the door quietly behind me and stand outside their door, invariably, every night, for a moment, feeling gratitude wash over me, often with a thread of guilt running through it: why was I impatient with so precious a moment?

It occurred to me recently that that sentence right there – I’ll see you in the morning – is the mother-child bond incarnate.  Isn’t it?  They are the words I utter as I exercise the enormous, ineffable privilege of being the last person two children speak to before they go to bed.  They are words which vow that I’ll be there in the morning, and words that promise another day.  No matter what emotions the day has brought, no matter what fireworks or tears dinner or bath (“bed, bath, and beyond,” as I’ve long said) contained, bedtime is always peaceful at our house.  The moments when I sit on the edge of Grace or Whit’s bed, leaning over them, listening and murmuring, these are some of my very, very favorite moments of being a mother.

Something like holiness – or grace – floats in the room, not always, but often, and I try to breathe it in.  I’ll see you in the morning.  While I can still say that, I will, with all my heart in every word.

For an exquisite piece about the power of bedtime, please read Can I Have Your Hand by one of my favorite writers, Amanda Magee.

All there will ever be

Every moment in life is absolutely itself. That’s all we have. There is nothing other than this present moment; there is no past, there is no future; there is nothing but this. So when we don’t pay attention to every little this, we miss the whole thing.

And the contents of this can be anything. This can be straightening our sitting mats, chopping an onion, talking to one we don’t want to talk to. It doesn’t matter what the contents of the moment are; each moment is absolute. That’s all there is, and all there ever will be.

~ Charlotte Joko Beck

I found this beautiful passage, as I do so many of my favorites, on the gorgeous blog First Sip.  Subscribe now: you won’t regret it!

More things I love lately

I recently re-read Crossing to Safety (which Will Schwalbe’s beautiful The End of Your Life Book Club inspired me to do) and found it even more breathtakingly gorgeous and powerful this time.  Stegner’s novel joins Harry Potter in the rarefied ranks of books I’ve read three times.  It’s outrageously beautiful, human, and honest.  As I get older I appreciate both my own adult couple friends and Stegner’s rendering of the deep companionship, occasional conflict, and true love that can exist between couples more and more.

Between Splinters and Sparkles is one of my favorite posts by Amanda Magee, which is saying something, because I adore everything she writes.  This piece, about the beauty that is right there waiting for us, as soon as we let go of our attachment to how it was supposed to be, brought tears to my eyes and gladness to my heart.

These tights from Lululemon are keeping me warm, even at 5:30 am in the dark and below freezing.  They are cozy and I literally look forward to putting them on in the morning.

Great Kid Books – I love this beautiful blog that is chock full of thoughtful recommendations.

Every So Often the World is Bound to Shake – Powerful blog post by Jennifer Pastiloff about what happens when the earth splits and you fall in.  A reminder that all human beings experience the terrain under their feet quaking, and a testament to the ability of the human spirit to survive and, even, to thrive.

Little Things Add Up – I’d argue that some of Dominique Browning’s resolutions aren’t little things at all (deciding to be positive, getting more sleep, a whisper of thanks and an act of kindness every day) but I love her reminder that every small thing counts.  Getting off the elevator and walking an extra flight of stairs.  15 more seconds in a hug.  Let’s all remember that big changes are often the accumulation of many, many small choices every day.

What books, things, blogs, and ideas have your attention these days?

 

Photo Wednesday 27: snow angels

We spent a couple of days last week in New Hampshire.  Our dearest friends generously let us stay in their house for two nights.  It snowed heavily the second night.  On the third day I went for a walk by myself in the new, deep snow.  In one secluded bower of trees I fell to my knees and, overcome with something I can’t name, bowed my head.  And then I looked up, all around, absorbing the beauty of this undisturbed corner of the world, that was mine alone to see covered with fresh snow.  And then, as I trudged back to the house, I stopped to make a snow angel.