blogging

my birthday, my blog’s birthday: the same, yet different!

Today is my five year anniversary in this space.  Five years!  My first post, in September 2006, mentioned two friends who have continued to be hugely important fixtures in both my life and on my blog.  Last year I marked my blog anniversary by asking for questions from you – I said I’d respond to anything you want to know.  It was, I confess, a way to combat my own lack of inspiration, but in the end I found the exercise fascinating.

So, I am asking again: to celebrate five years of writing here, please ask any question you want, or let me know something you’d like to know more about.  Thank you, thank you, for this and for the myriad, meaningful, and completely unforseen ways your reading my words has enriched my life.  I cannot explain how much I’ve been surprised and moved by what this place, and the rest of the blogosphere, has come to mean to me.

I’m honored today to have an essay on the brand new, wonderful BlogHer Moms.  Stacy Morrison, who I couldn’t respect more if I tried, asked me to write about why summer is a sad season for me and, I think, for many moms.  Please check out my essay and poke around the rest of BlogHer Moms when you’re there.  I think what Stacy and BlogHer are doing is fabulous, and look forward to reading much more of what they feature.

Jena Strong of More Joy, Less Oy is one of my favorite writers out there.  She writes gorgeously – richly, luminously, heartbreakingly honestly – of her path, which has included some unanticipated switchbacks, of her continued efforts to live an authentic, engaged, truthful life, of her girls, her faith, her open-eyed wonder at this world.

Jena’s writing regularly makes me weep.  Her words, frankly as much as anyone’s, burrow deep into my soul and take up residence there.  I find myself thinking about what she has written long after I’ve read it.  Go check out her blog; I’m certain that you will fall into the rich, brave, courageous world there as I have.

When I thought about people who write about trust, broadly defined, I thought immediately of Jena.  Her writing, in my opinion, is all about this: trusting our journey, trusting ourselves, trusting the universe.  Just plain trusting, in the ways that I so deeply, fiercely aspire to do.  I asked her to share some of her thoughts on trust with me, and with you.

I love these lines that follow, because they evince the fundamental, heartfelt gratitude that sweeps over me regularly.  And I don’t know that I can quite articulate why, yet, but I think there’s a complicated but essential link between gratitude and trust.  I think one allows room for the other,  like someone holding the window open to let the light in.

Without further ado, here are Jena’s words.  Please read, enjoy, and then go enjoy the beauty at More Joy, Less Oy.  Jena, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts here.  It is an immense honor.

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Giving Thanks

She who knows the path is she who travels it. – Zulu Proverb

Because yesterday a tornado ripped through Western Mass
and “there aren’t supposed to be tornadoes in New England”

Because tonight a naked five-year old choreographed a dance
and taught it to me so patiently

Because my middle sister huddled in a basement with her staff
then drove her car filled with shattered glass home to her family

Because after the storm my other sister gave me peonies
from her garden that now sit in a drinking glass on the sill

Because my beautiful daughter cried herself to sleep
missing the camaraderie of the cast of her recent play

and because nothing I said could touch her aching
I could only lie next to her, still and breathing

Because at this time of night one year ago today
I quietly slipped into bed knowing everything had changed

Because after I hit my head on the corner of the laundry chute
she wandered down to the basement and asked if I was ok

Because we played Chutes and Ladders in bed
huddled together, Elmo, Big Bird and Cookie Monster

Because they fell asleep listening to me whispering
So lucky to be your mama

Because the trees were ripped from their roots
and the sky grew black

and the clouds heaved and the winds howled
and these storms come with little warning

Because the voice on the radio said Take Cover Now
Seek Shelter, Stay Low

Because love demands continuous expression
demands that we wake up

before the storms become so severe
that our lives become uninhabitable

Because metaphors won’t shield us from the flood
the fire, the melt, the unhinging planet

a patient who can’t be stabilized
by belated procedures

A hospital, a hailstorm, a baby’s born
a frail man with a walker greets everyone Hello

Because every hello, every hug, bears witness
to the skin we share, the hearts we have in common

Because you too would lay yourself down to save
a child’s life as the earth

rages at our blind eyes and deaf ears
drumming rain on the roofs we mistake as solid

Because I woke in a woman’s arms
having surrendered ego and any illusion of control

Because I paced
like a caged animal

then ran free into the most wide-open spaces I could find
and they were all inside, all inside

Because I opened my eyes
Because I stood beneath a waterfall and tried to drink

buried my face in the leaves, carried my babies on my back
and stopped to lie down in the the summer soft grass

Because we all want safety, comfort, and protection
and yet these moments touch down, tornadoes

take down everything we built in minutes
and we are left standing in the rubble

the broken glass, shards and fragments
of our former havens

Because what we know then is love
It always comes to this

We call the ones we love, cry when we hear their voices
and realize how scared we were, how small

Only then do we wake up and remember
that we have everything in each other’s

naked dancing bodies, soothing voices
touching hands

Everything  in each other’s
soothing voices and touching hands

And so we

Give thanks
Give thanks
Give thanks

Jena Strong, mother of these two gorgeous girls, writes the beautiful blog, More Joy, Less Oy.

It’s not a secret that I am a huge, fawning Fan Of Pam.  Her blog, Walking On My Hands, has inspired my own writing many times (here, here, here, and here), and I cannot possibly recommend it highly enough.  Walking On My Hands is about, in Pam’s own words, “learning to live with grace.”  It’s about Pam’s life: about her yoga teacher training, about her military husband, about her two delicious sons, about her own struggles to face her “stuff.”  And it’s told in her gorgeous, inimitable voice.  Run, don’t walk.  And read the whole thing when you’re there.  Pam is the real deal, as good as it gets, and she’ll make laugh and cry in every single piece.

When Pam asked me to write her something as a guest post, I jumped at the chance.  Of course I started out writing about something different, and this is what came out.  Please click over to read my words about trusting the path, even when it takes you somewhere totally unanticipated (and note that while I was writing about this happening in my life it also happened with this specific piece of writing, too.  very meta, the universe can be.)