Life

Life.

It is amazing.
And awful.
And magnificent.
And unyielding.
And incredible.

Having a four year old in your life is nothing short of beautiful. "Mommy, I ate my vestibools (vegetables)!", Upon seeing a photo her sister drew of her, she replies very sternly and quizzically - "I don't have any wegs". Sister - "That's ok". Four-year-old (holding her leg in the air) - "They awyah wight heeyuh". Sister draws the full body - with wegs. "Mommy, I wuv you mo-wuh than Fwozen".
That sweet baby, yet a little bit girl, who makes my heart evaporate into lightness and sparkles. I love her.

It gets so troublesome sometimes, Dreadfully heavy. Don't get me wrong, my gratitude for every new morning my eyes can open to a sunrise, is quite immense. But, some days "life" can sink you. You feel like you've been buried by all of the weight it can bring: refugees fleeing incredible suffering, sickness and decline, personal pain - both physical and mental - that constantly seems to interweave thorns throughout my being, guilt and disfavor that have managed to barnacle themselves on what should be a confident human, and weariness, whose definition need not be defined, for it is inherently felt. Life is most certainly a very arduous path.

That marvelous moment you find exactly what you need. Right this second - in something that could have very easily been overlooked had you not permitted wakefulness. I treasure these moments. I only hope that I allow that open-eyed mindfulness to remain alert. Otherwise, I cease to live in this world.

My four year old's school lost their tortoise mascot this week. Djembe roamed their playground, allowed moments of gentle play, and trumbled (my own word) right through those very children to explore at will. He drowned after escaping their playground. When we started this new school last month, he was the most exciting thing in her/our world. Lynora didn't even seem to mind going to a brand new place with brand new people because Djembe was there. He became a meaningful part of her world before she ever knew him. Every day we grew to love him more. I have known that (sort-of little) sweet, bumbly thing for only a month, but he made a very big impact on our lives and we will miss him so so much.

The bounce back: this is when your children forgive you after a bad-parenting-moment, seemingly unfazed or damaged. As a parent and a coriaceous creature of this world, understanding this extraordinary bounce back is both inexplicable and invaluably precious. The fact that they do it on a regular basis makes you feel that life is the cat's pajamas and all is right with the world.

Y'all, I can't say that I am okay at all times, nor can I say that I am not. What I can admit is that I rather like life. I am here for a reason and I am meant to be exactly where I am at this moment. I will try to forgive my shortcomings, yet I will never apologize for who I am. I will remember that, though I may be nothing but a passing thought to most, I am an entire chapter to others. Things get difficult. We all ride the hills and valleys and it is fucking hard. We can't control the struggle, but we can certainly control our reaction. Given the divine sanction that is life, we are free to assess the value we put upon it. Let's make it high.

The summation of our entire lives comes down to one word.

Love.
It makes ALL things work.

Window

We are going to take a visceral journey tonight.

There is a place in all of us; beyond conscious everyday thought. We find it when we are quiet and can listen to the internal conversation of our heart. The voice is smothered each day with errands, distractions, calendars, dinner, work, feeding the dog, laundry, meeting a friend, crying children, worries, guilt, and so on. 
There are many things that I work on. Most I am doing with passable acceptance, others I thought were on a forward path. As it turns out, I was wrong.
The window I was using to see life through was muddled by what I thought was the dust and sadness from what was missing or wrong in my life. It was difficult to focus and terribly straining to examine. One night, on the many where my sleep is encroached upon by the wide owl eyes of worriment and contemplation, it occurred to me to try and wipe the window panes. All I could manage was one little area but oh, the difference it made! An image became so clear and distinct that it was a bit startling.
That image was my own face.

 We all have windows.

As children, they were big open windows with ethereal sheers blowing from the garden breeze.
As adults, we have dust, dirt, sadness, anger, resentment...haze, but it is there because we put it there.
You see, I listened to that soft voice telling me I could wipe it off. That voice whispered to me softly saying I could make things better. It said I was worth making that first move - because it was mine to make. Even if it is just a small little speck. There is peace in that.
You know what happened when I started to wipe things away? I let go. It is a beautiful feeling to truly let go.
That sadness I thought was caused by someone else not giving me what I needed? The anger I felt because something wasn't going my way? The resentment of life because it is fucked up and unfair sometimes? That is weight I carried on my shoulders, or more importantly on my heart.
On that night, my tears filled with old built-up regret and hurt cleaned that spot. I let them stream down my face into the pillow. Out of me. Out of my soul.
That lightness of life I am supposed to have and crave with every fiber of my being, it is there. I can't quite see yet, but I know it is there. I'll keep loosening the grime and look forward to the sunshine finding its way back in.

That window is still open, I just need to tidy up a bit.