flash was gone for thirteen days and now he is home.

the kids are bouncing off the walls happy.

and it is so nice to be a family of four again.

there is also the transition though.

sometimes i remember there will be a transition when he departs

but forget there is another one when he returns.

so i asked to be what i need to be

for myself

for my kids

for flash.

to be what i need to be to help us through these few little days of shifting again.

i saw myself as a shining beacon

bursting with light from above and below.

i saw myself standing strong and holding the space for us

i saw that the strength was soft and yeilding

i saw that our family is filled with love

and sometimes all that love need huge bursts of light

as well.

i saw how my tendency when he first gets back is to disappear a little bit

to assume the kids need me less

to go on a kind of energetic break.

but that really that is not what any of us need me to do.

(not even me!)

that a healthy function would be bringing the light

holding my spot in this family

being brightly present.

the other day we went for a walk in the forest.

covered by a blanket of snow.

with castle james.

i let him off leash and hoped he’d stay close.

he did.

we stomped through the snow a bit.

we climbed up slight hills suddenly imposing

when you are tiny

and dressed in so much gear.

we padded in

we stomped out

we slid around.

it wasn’t a long hike.

it wasn’t exercise for me.

but it totally changed my day.

being surrounded by mother earth

held by nature

and her amazing depth and breadth.

she doesn’t go on break.

she shines with strength from above and below.

her power is soft and yielding.

she is bursting with light.

she holds us all.

like i might forget a small something that should not be forgotten.

like it means somehow that this time is less important than the time when i did write it all out.

i think about how the words might work to string together the moments into scenes and how this tiny spot on the internet might somehow be the place where all my misplaced memories are stored.

and then i wonder if that also cheapens it.  if it is just etched into my being so that it shapes me constantly and how could that be forgotten when it is all that i am?  and how really if i am doing what i intend to do, mothering them, then these moments are also carved into their very beings.  that they won’t remember the days together at all but that it will just weave into who they are.

the pea has a grasp of language that still surprises me.  she strings together thoughts and sentences that sound like they are coming from a much older child.  but her voice and words have the lisps and twangs of a three year old.  it is so incongruous it makes my heart full.  the bean is sometimes unrecognizable from the toddler i had so recently who was silent, hiding behind me, sitting in my lap.  he talks to people at grocery store as though its the most natural thing in the world.  he has a confidence and ease out in the world now that fits his beauty and grace.

two days a week the three of us pack up a collection of bags containing all manner of stuff and drive “on highway number one and highway number two” to get to our homeschool coop.  we eat snacks, talk and sing our way through the forty five minutes there and home. in between the driving we experience our little coop.  led by a woman who has served these last few months as my inspiration and mentor.  our coop has a hired teacher and i am blessed (and challenged) to stay on as one of the assistant teachers.  i work on truly holding the space, seeing children in the light, developing the intuition of a teacher instead of a healer, and trusting my instincts.  the bean and the pea work on sharing space with other children, holding another child’s hand, wanting a shovel they don’t have, and eating as part of the community.  it is hard work for all of us.  somedays deeply frustrating and overwhelming and other days rewarding in ways i could never have predicted.  somehow i am a full time stay at home mom, homemaker, and home schooling parent, and suddenly also a part time assistant teacher in a really amazing outdoor based waldorf inspired mixed kindergarten program.

other days we go to the gym.  i leave my children in the day care there where they play with blocks or plastic cars and buses while i indulge in exercise.  i am learning to play tennis.  surrounded by people who feel so very different from the families involved in the coop its almost like i am somehow lifting a curtain to travel between different universes.  on the court though i learn the same thing i am always learning.  to forgive myself when i don’t measure up.  to stay focused in on the present moment.  and to let go.  to let go of the last point, the last shot, the last mistake i made.  to just simply let it go and face the next one.  it doesn’t work to pretend to let it go or to even file it away for later analysis.  somehow, playing tennis, my body stores up the tension of the judgement i am passing on myself if i try one of those.  i have to really take a deep breath, forget that last thing that happened, and trust that even if i let go instantly of the mistake i made i have somehow learned what i needed from it and the next moment will go better.

flash is away again on another two week trip for work.  it is hard and it has moments of struggle for sure but honestly it isn’t too terrible.  we all miss him and it is more work for me but it is ok.  in these long stretches of being the only parent i learn so much about my kids.  i feel so close to them.  most of the time i feel lucky.  i love these little guys so much and they are truly amazing beings who surprise me, delight me, and humble me everyday.  the way flash travels somehow shapes my relationship with them in a way that is a gift.  the other day the bean told me, “i know you better than anyone else does.  i spend even more time with you than daddy does!”  i thought about it for a moment.  i always think i am the one doing the knowing.  that i know these kids so well.

he is right though.  with his huge sensitive heart and elephant memory and all the thousands upon thousands of hours we have clocked together in this life time he just might know me better than anyone else in the world does.  it is possible.

i wonder why my instant reaction is to rank myself lower and assume i need to change.  i wonder if there comes a time – through all this spiritual and inner work that i commit myself to doing – when those critiques are silenced and i can just appreciate each person (even myself) as they are.

on the fifth we took a hike at noon hill because it was not desperately cold.  i was just going to loop the pond there but sebastian wanted us to veer off up a hill.  i agreed.  it was a beautiful path.  at the top of the hill we looked back through the pines at the frozen pond.

a few minutes later we were walking through an archway of small pines that had grown thick leaning over each other to form a kind of greenery tunnel.  we saw a giant fallen tree and decided to bushwhack over to it and walk it like a balance beam.  it was one of those days where things just kind of fall together and you get this feeling inside vibrating around like a huge yes.

1 small bunch carrots

1 onion

1 celeriac

2 large cloves garlic

add these to the pot as you are finished cutting them and allow them to cook on med heat so they are softening slowly (i like to add some salt at this point too – just enough to bring out the flavor of these veggies).  the time spent on this will be the base of the flavor of your soup.  less time will be a lighter flavor and longer will be a heartier flavor.  once the veggies are on their way to cooked add:

1.25 lb ground pork (if vegetarian i’d also love this soup with garbanzo beans or red lentils just add them at the appropriate time).

give this time to start browning and add:

1 heaping tablespoon cumin

1 heaping tablespoon chili powder

2 pinches red pepper flakes

continue cooking until pork is cooked through.  now add about 1/2 cup of chicken broth let it come up to a boil and use it to deglaze your pot.  once done deglazing add:

2.5 -3.5 cups chicken broth

2 bay leaves

approximate 28 oz. whole peeled tomatoes

let this simmer on the stove for a bit (30 mins – over an hour).

now roughly chop about 1/2 bunch of cilantro and add it to the hop soup.  simmer another 10 -20 mins.

soup is ready!  but what is soup without toppings?

ladle soup into your bowl of choice and top with:

more fresh cilantro

a healthy squeeze of fresh lime juice

1/2 of a diced avocado

a small crumble of goat cheese

eat, drink, and be merry.  happy 2012

a few days ago i was driving home from a quick trip to the grocery store feeling incredibly happy.  i had decided on the spur of the moment to zip to the store and get a few things we wanted even though i didn’t have a big shop organized.  the bean stayed home with flash putting up some outdoor holiday lights and the pea and i went to the store.  we cruised once around the perimeter of the store grabbing apples, grapes, lettuce and some fancy cheese as a treat.  there was no line and we hadn’t spent too terribly much.  on the drive home the fading afternoon light was nice and i was feeling good.  so good.  it was kind of inexplicable and i got to thinking about it.  i was feeling good about feeling good.  i was thinking about how nice it was to feel so happy and right just unconditionally not based on any specific experience.

drive drive, nice light, kid riding his bike, the pea singing herself a little song, cheese in my grocery bag — wait!  cheese in my grocery bag.  who am i to be buying more cheese?  that means i’ll be eating cheese!  i have eaten too much rich food in the last few days and i am going to get fat from all of it!  i shouldn’t have bought that cheese.  

the thoughts just kind of jumped into action and somehow i was able to observe them as them tumbled through in a dedicated attempt at self sabotage.  then i wondered, why can’t i just allow myself to feel good.  somehow, as soon as i notice i am feeling good my thoughts land upon something i could potentially feel bad about instead.

i don’t want to feel bad about the cheese.  i want to just enjoy feeling good.  i try.

there is so much to get done these days it seems near impossible to find time to write while also honoring the other choices i have made in my life.  getting enough exercise, homeschooling, being an assistant at our kindy coop two days a week, not using media for the kids, spending time reading for myself.  i miss the writing but the time for the practice of it seems to have slipped down my internal list of what matters and days and weeks pass without me taking a moment to type anything out.  i struggle with finding a balance all the time.  what deserves time?  what do i dedicate myself to?  what is the healthiest and best for myself, for my kids, for my family?

i also just fall into a rhythm and that rhythm seems to shift through the months and years that pass.  sometimes i am knitting a lot, sometimes i am writing a lot, sometimes i am reading a lot, sometimes i am working with a lot of clients, sometimes i am doing a lot of spiritual self study, sometimes i am watching a lot of junkie television in the evenings, sometimes i am baking my own bread.

i am sure there are all kinds of thoughts forming about the ways in which that is not ok.  if i give them the space and attention they will shape up right now and spill from my mind right into my finger tips.  they will be written.  i don’t want to though.  i want to sip my baby kale, grape, carrot, cucumber, chia seed, blueberry juice and feel alright.  i want to accept things are beautiful as they are.  i want to kiss big bellies.

i have been reading (the second edition of) MAP by machaelle small wright over the last few days.  i had read another book of hers over 10 years ago and i think i enjoyed it at the time but i wasn’t hooked.  i started using some of her flower essences about 2 years ago and found i liked her products very much.  i have slowly moved more and more in the direction of using her essences and balancing solutions to assist us in our general health.  then suddenly on saturday morning i got my hands on the book (borrowed from a friend) and it was like the timing was perfect.  i have cruised through reading and started my own personal MAP program.  i am certain that now is the time for me to do this and that earlier it just wouldn’t have been right.  i feel like this is one of those moments where you just sense the universe aligning for you to make sure you get information you need for your life right exactly when you will see it for what it is.

i sense that i am changing again.  energetic shifts blowing through my system and helping me come closer to what i am meant to be.  i could turn my thoughts loose on it all and toss about sarcastic self depreciation and doubt.  that will always be possible for me though.  right now i’ll not.

every.  day.

can you even imagine?

i actually did it for awhile too.  maybe for even year.  honestly if you look back there are a lot of posts on here…

recently though everything just kind of drifted in other directions and although i am still alive, still struggling, still parenting, still cooking – i just don’t post very often.

i still write things in my head though.  i compose the beginnings of posts.  i think of a few choice sentences here and there.  then they sit in there like lonely friends – banging into each other and repeating themselves in loops hoping for a chance to hit paper, to be pressed through the dirty keys of my now old laptop onto the perhaps even filthier screen.

the other day on the way to get my hair cut i stopped to let a flock of wild turkey’s cross the road.  there were round about thirty of them and they crossed in fits and starts.  five ran across blustery and hurried while the rest were still pecking about the lawn.  then four more, slowly walking across looking at the cars waiting and bobbing their heads in time to their own feet hitting the pavement.  the car coming from the opposite direction and i both waited patiently.

there were times when the next group of turkeys hesitated long enough that we could have depressed our gas pedals and hurried on to where we needed to be but neither of us did.  as the minutes dragged out it felt like we had come to an unspoken agreement that for this brief moment in time nature was going to take center stage over human’s and our overly important jam packed lives.  we sat in our cars and let each turkey cross.  the final one hesitating the longest before looking up and realizing he was alone and then running to catch up.

then at last we drove on.  it turned out it was a woman in the other car as well.  we smiled at each other and got back to getting to where we were going.  i was touched though, i felt less alone, i felt hopeful about nothing in particular.  it seemed like an ordinary moment in a basically ordinary day could hold the potential to be — just better.  not spectacular or life bending – just kind of nice.  that a silent respect for a gaggle of wild turkeys could shine small bits of light into my consciousness.

the bean is five and half now.  it turns out that five and a half to six is an age of “disequilibrium.”  it is shocking how different it feels to parent him.  after a blissful time of him being amazing, balanced, calm, loving, and agreeable.  now he storms at me for what feels like nothing, chants “no no no no” as he stomps around and then later screams out, “mama come to me i am scared!”

it hasn’t been pretty.

i haven’t been very proud of myself at times.  i’d say the first five days or so i resorted to out and out crabbiness followed by a glass of wine.

but slowly i am learning that when he changes i need to change.  my expectations must shift.  i need somehow to bring more stillness and more softness while being solid and present.  i am working on the actual practice of holding him in the light, on being visionary, on seeing through what he is displaying into what he is.  he is a beautiful beautiful child with a sensitive heart and soul.  when he feels bad he truly feels awful and instead of letting my own vision go dark around him i need to pull strongly out of that and see him strong, calm, smiling, filled with joy.  sometimes i find a quiet spot to sit while he has his tantrum (the toilet, the front steps) and i cover my ears and breathe drishdi breath so that all i can hear is myself.  all i can hear is the rolling in and out of my own breathing.  then i return – more able to be with him without my own demons rising up and twisting my sense of what needs to be done in response.

by the end of the day i am exhausted.  i am praying all the time that we can get through this phase with relative speed.  i doubt my ability to match it for six months.

this morning i wanted thanksgiving blend coffee and sumatra is what was in the grinder.  normally i would have been a good girl and just continued to use the sumatra until it was gone but i am working on letting my own desires lead me so instead i pulled off the top of the grinder and dumped the beans back into the sumatra bag.  i opened the thanksgiving blend and ground it up and made my coffee.  because, you know, a starving person has a very hard time sharing food.  but a person with plenty to eat can happily pass the dishes around.

baby steps here.

always.

peace love and joy to anyone who still stops by this driftingly quiet place…

mama de woowoo

where the bean rode his bike

which means he sometimes pushes himself along with his feet

which he calls “walking”

and sometimes he pedals.

after he is already cruising along from the walking part

he lifts up his feet and

i watch as those little

(and yet, wait!  not really as little as they were)

feet reach around

thin air

seeking out the pedals.

then he is riding his bike.

meanwhile i am pushing the (double) stroller with the pea

her snack

and some old snacks that were not cleaned up from some other walk.

and we have the dog.

as we head home i notice

wow, the sun is really shining in that insanely crisp october way.

wow, the bean’s red and brown sweater

with thick stripes

looks amazing.

i could pull out my phone and take a photo.

or, i could just see it.

and think, “wow, that looks amazing.”

we stop to gather leaves on the sidewalk.

small red/yellow oak (?) leaves.

i put them in the stroller pocket.

later the rest of the day will unfold.

but for now we are just fitting in a walk

with a stroller half full

with a little boy half riding his bike

with me more than half present

which isn’t

really

half bad.

it’s golden in the skies

it’s golden, golden, golden

october’s passing by

(adapted from wynstones autumn)

after days of grey skies and rain

the sun finally broke through again today.

as i was driving down our road i noticed how the tree tops really are golden now,

when the bright fall sun is shedding her golden rays upon them.

how the verse we have been saying about the golden tree tops and golden skies

suddenly becomes more then a verse

when you are living it.

and i realized, in that moment as i drove along,

that the verse echoing silently in my own mind and heart

was coming to life for me.

and that it brings nothing for them when it is not alive inside me to begin with.

i am emerging here from more grayness than just the rain over the last days.

a healthy cocktail of large and small life stressors seemed to pile upon each other in my mind and heart recently until two nights ago i stood over the broccoli soup pot at 9 o’clock at night scrubbing and crying.  tears of fear, loneliness, and worry.

it is funny – no matter how good life gets there are still those moments of despair.  moments of sinking into feeling so deeply alone that there really is nothing left to do but cry.  to cry and cry until you are done crying (and then pick up the phone and call your friend.)

since that moment i have asked for and received the help and support i needed to inch my way out of that little dark spot and into a place of hope and spacious light.

the golden golden golden on the drive home was searing its way into my very core and spreading back out like a reflection of my own emotional and spiritual shifting.

we made rice milk today.

it was the bean’s idea.

i resisted it heavily when he first brought it up at 8am as the best way to resolve the dire situation of being out of rice milk (his only beverage).

i fought back.

then i gave in.

eventually i got into it.

we found a recipe.  we measured and cooked.  we worked on it throughout the day together.  blending, straining, straining, and finally pouring the finished product into glass jars.  we made labels together and he stocked two jars into the upstairs fridge and three into the downstairs fridge.

he had looked at the first label i made,

“rice milk

10-20-11″

and he asked to make his own:

“r    i         c e                   m    i      l          e

1  0     –  20    -  1            1 “

he brought it to me and worried, “i couldn’t make the letter here,” while pointing to the k in milk.

“it looks beautiful to me,” i said.  ”i can read this.”

several minutes passed.  he looked again at the jar with his label on it.

“if a real person was here could they know what mine said?”

“yes.”

maybe this is homeschooling.  measuring, cooking safety, creating something from scratch, copying mama’s letters as you make your own label.  wondering if your letters are real.

eventually the rice milk was cool enough to try.

he hated it.

“it tastes like there is rice in it!”

my schooling is in the art of letting go i suppose.

i chop.  i dice.  i brown and deglaze.  i breathe in the smells of the food cooking and then pull spices out of the cupboard.  i add a little vinegar.  i sprinkle on the salt.  i toss in some bay leaves.

it calms my soul and brings me back to my center.  before i start cooking i feel worn out from the mental, emotional, spiritual task of holding the space for eleven children.  i feel exhausted from the learning and moving and intuiting.  i feel spread thin.  but somewhere between dicing up onion for the country style pork shoulder ribs i am braising and picking the last springs of tarragon out of my garden to flavor the cabbage i start to come back home.  i find my way to where i need to be.

the kids are playing, singing, coming in and out of imagination and wanting attention.  they seem more capable of giving me some space when i cook.  maybe it is because i am busy with purposeful activity.  maybe it is because then can sense that i am in that place – that sacred place – where thinking has ceased and being has begun.

you’d think, after all the being with the children what i’d need is a break from being.  but, it turns out what i seek is being some more.  with my wooden spoon, with my big blue pot, with my own flow.

once everything is simmering i get to the bags.  i do the breakfast dishes.  i might even play a game with the bean and pea.  i am ready to prepare a snack, make kid tea, and sit down to tell silly jokes to each other.  and like that we are back to where we end up each day.  with the day ending.  with a candle lighting their dinner.  with a tidy up before bath time.

when i first walk in the door dropping back packs, fleece and rain coats, snack bags, and dirty boots i have no idea how i will make it.

but the cooking leads me there.

and i follow…