The fact that my cottage dial-up internet “service” is frustrating, slow and totally unreliable hasn’t helped me get back into blogging. But more ‘legitimate’ is this reason: I have been way ahead of my fingers in my thoughts and feelings and each time I think that writing would feel good now, I start breathing and moving and . . . I don’t write anything.
So here I am, many, may days later and still with the urge to write, to state my current truth and aliveness and eagerness to, to . . . GROW . . . that just popped off my fingertips and it fits (glory be! is my higherSelf at the helm!?)
Certainly I’ve been doing just that, and although much of the growing has NOT felt good. (A memory popped: painful leg-cramps when I was a child were explained with “it’s all part of growing” – and how poorly that comforted me even though growing (and growing up) was a goal!). Over the last two weeks, my body has been talking to me in loud, harsh tones – and I’m still processing the experience(s). Through the physical stuff which flattened me so I felt like road-kill for 2 days (the image doesn’t fit perfectly as I was still able to breathe, and relished breathing deeply, knowing that was the way forward), I’ve discovered lots about my 2-3 dances. Thankfully even as I lay there, I knew that I didn’t have to continue dancing them – Now, it’s as if those tunes’ intensity is far less; though the triggers are still there, most times, I notice them now and choose not to run the old strategy. And my body is being gentler with me again; and me with it, grateful that the message was crisp and clear albeit forceful.
And –here’s the best part - I’ve already taken bold and courageous steps (for me!) to state my position and my unwillingness to tolerate or enable the status quo. (This is, I believe, what my body was alerting me to.) ‘Already’ flowed off my fingertips with pleasure as my ‘normal’ or old-me modus vivendi was to put off stating MY standpoint and MY feelings; sometimes I’d go beyond ‘putting off’ to the point of retreating into silence-mode and resentment. I’m not willing to do that any more. And a few people on my holodeck are seeing and hearing it; and I feel very good about my awareness of, and my voice about MY place right now.
I’m exposing my edges! I’m creating my space! And I’m growing as I go.
What was also wonderful to note for me was that I manifested what I needed in ‘physical’ help: caring and open ears listened to me when needed; a calming, energy-balancing massage appointment was available virtually immediately; and so on. I welcomed my body’s messages and I was extremely grateful for the external support which I sensed I needed and could muster simply by voicing my need. I realize that I can trust, trust mySelf to help me, and that there are no accidents!
A propos . . .
My altercation with the mouse-hole at the end of May FELT like a bad accident at the time, that’s sure. And the ‘result’ is still cramping my mobility; and my foot still swells a bit each evening. But as I heal gradually, moving at half-speed through my physical world, I see that I’m taking the time that I need. And I notice some metaphors with enthusiasm. Certainly, I’m on a new footing now with many people in my life and with my bva’s too. I’m finding my ground again in a new environment that I’m creating through voice and deed. I’m walking more consciously/mindfully on the one hand while also allowing my feet to take me at the speed and over terrain that fits my needs. And I feel I’m walking towards . . . who knows where? . . . and that my feet in their own way are helping me get there.
And there’s more I want to say, though where it ‘fits’ in this blog-piece isn’t clear. It’s just clear, and welcome, to me that this is where I am:
At an amazing open-air circus/theater performance at the Bread and Puppet Theatre in Vermont yesterday afternoon, I finally heard what the puppeteers’ve been saying. We’ve been attending their performances and engaging in their issues since the late ‘70s. Each year they expose and present burning issues in the world and especially egregious ‘errors’ being committed by the American government using enormous, beautifully sculpted and symbolically potent puppets and images. They urge, exhort and demand that the audience, we the public, wake up and take a stand. THIS much, I heard and felt each time we were there, and carried it with me long afterwards. Where they then, always, went on to and to which I felt no resonance until yesterday’s performance, was the possibility of going beyond incremental change to transformation through collective intention and action. I realize now that I was not ready to hear it; ‘transformation’ was not registering at all in my consciousness. I would watch the performances, engage emotionally and visually in the pageants, and when it came to the ‘final act’ I would note the victory of good over evil, marvel at the stage set, regret the conflagration which destroyed a wonderfully creative sculptural piece (representing, say, the military industrial complex, or agri-business which devours small-holders). And I was not seeing the enormity of the scope of their message of transformation. Why am I so blown away to I realize what was ‘escaping’ me at each performance? I’m realizing fully how very ok I have been with incremental change – it felt doable, safe, enough, all I could hope for – and thus all I could see. No more! Now though, it’s transformation for me . . . it’s out there as an option that I am now fully aware of, and that I too can make happen! I KNEW this for the first time at “emerging Futures” in June – so it’s perfect that I actually SAW this at the B and P. yesterday. Cool eh? as my five-year old granddaughter might say.
And with that awareness comes my commitment to doing what it takes. Those at Oceanstone in June will remember Louise's careful and clear warning: if x is what is meaningful and what I want, and if it takes a and b and c to get x, but I only do a and b, I will NEVER have x, I’ll have something different. And it’s my choice. At that moment my body understood, and as I write now, the feeling comes back to me: Resolve? Commitment? Desire? Which nominalization to use? Who cares!
When I think back to the days I spent recently feeling like road-kill, I think it was a reminder from my body to “do C” or else. By stopping before C, I’d be letting myself down, selling myself short, repeating what I’ve always done . . . and getting f, not x. This week, C was for choosing, and creating. And they felt and feel good.
Ultimatley, x will make a Big Bang, and I’m gearing up for it; little big bangs are already audible this week . . . and I like the sounds they make! And I really like the space they make which allows me to grow bigger, clearer, edgy-er . . . NOW.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Fear Of and Fear For
Both can be real handicaps in a mother-daughter relationship, and last night the realization that they have been shaping my life since Vicky was born (maybe even since her conception?) rolled through me last night like a tank with all guns firing. I’d often bantered about being scared of Vicky’s reactions – but now I know I wasn’t fooling, I’d only fooled myself enough to be able to bury it for 38 years. After all, I ‘knew’ that children are loveable, not fearful. I’m aware now that Vicky was both, to me.
I feared her moods, her sometimes brutal honesty, and her sharp criticism; they disrupted our illusion of a ‘happy family’, disturbed the equilibrium I sought, and pointed out my/our shortcomings. I see now that if I’d understood those aspects of Vicky as expressions of herself, an authentic self, I could have learned a lot –from her words and by her speaking-her-truth example. I’m aware (now) that her anger, hurt and opinions are hers and to be engaged by her; that I felt ‘under attack’ was my response in my body and had origins in my youth and development, unrelated to Vicky.
It was huge for me to realize last night that in my relationship with Vicky I was working from a base of fear and ‘containment’; I was trying to mitigate, mediate, control situations and outcomes.
And my love for her, and my basic position in the danger/scarcity camp ensured that I was also fearful for her as she was growing up, of course, and well beyond. And my tendency, until starting the Wel-Systems programs almost two years ago, was to try to protect her from anything I perceived to be looming ominously on her horizon. Obviously I couldn’t and didn’t prevent anything – but I nonetheless would advise/warn about something I felt relevant to her ‘safety’, perform tasks to assist her, and so on – well beyond motherly-‘normal’ and necessary. I thought I was acting/thinking out of love, out of caring – with a bit of A Mother’s Responsibility included. And I persisted, even though she has demonstrated a zillion times that she’s extremely capable of looking after herself.
In case the impression I’m giving is of a tormented and unhappy relationship, it isn’t. We have shared innumerable wonderful experiences together, and are sharing the cottage this summer, with enjoyment, ease and mutual respect for each other’s needs and wishes. My ‘original fear’ that our relationship could be as meaningless for me, and for her, as the one between mine and my mother is for me, seems to NOT be the case, thankfully! I definitely feel a strong bond of love and caring. Notwithstanding, we have created a pattern in which we tread very carefully around each other, keep our respective silences and respect each other’s ‘privacy’ with amazing (in retrospect) diligence/caution.
When I woke up this morning after a short but good sleep, I wondered if my memory of the night’s tears and anguish, and attempts to breathe and ride the surf, were imagined. But I know they weren’t – because Vicky sounds and looks quite different to me this morning, and I feel very different. Is there a word for a new-found absence of fear? In my body, it’s close to ‘calm’ and ‘open’ and ‘relieved’.
What this discovery will mean, I don’t know. Once Vicky’s children are in bed tonight, I will tell her over dinner what I’ve learned about myself. If she doesn’t run off screaming, scared as hell by ME, of ME, it could be the beginning of a good conversation. I look forward to it, without fear OF her, or FOR her, or fear of where it might lead.
I feared her moods, her sometimes brutal honesty, and her sharp criticism; they disrupted our illusion of a ‘happy family’, disturbed the equilibrium I sought, and pointed out my/our shortcomings. I see now that if I’d understood those aspects of Vicky as expressions of herself, an authentic self, I could have learned a lot –from her words and by her speaking-her-truth example. I’m aware (now) that her anger, hurt and opinions are hers and to be engaged by her; that I felt ‘under attack’ was my response in my body and had origins in my youth and development, unrelated to Vicky.
It was huge for me to realize last night that in my relationship with Vicky I was working from a base of fear and ‘containment’; I was trying to mitigate, mediate, control situations and outcomes.
And my love for her, and my basic position in the danger/scarcity camp ensured that I was also fearful for her as she was growing up, of course, and well beyond. And my tendency, until starting the Wel-Systems programs almost two years ago, was to try to protect her from anything I perceived to be looming ominously on her horizon. Obviously I couldn’t and didn’t prevent anything – but I nonetheless would advise/warn about something I felt relevant to her ‘safety’, perform tasks to assist her, and so on – well beyond motherly-‘normal’ and necessary. I thought I was acting/thinking out of love, out of caring – with a bit of A Mother’s Responsibility included. And I persisted, even though she has demonstrated a zillion times that she’s extremely capable of looking after herself.
In case the impression I’m giving is of a tormented and unhappy relationship, it isn’t. We have shared innumerable wonderful experiences together, and are sharing the cottage this summer, with enjoyment, ease and mutual respect for each other’s needs and wishes. My ‘original fear’ that our relationship could be as meaningless for me, and for her, as the one between mine and my mother is for me, seems to NOT be the case, thankfully! I definitely feel a strong bond of love and caring. Notwithstanding, we have created a pattern in which we tread very carefully around each other, keep our respective silences and respect each other’s ‘privacy’ with amazing (in retrospect) diligence/caution.
When I woke up this morning after a short but good sleep, I wondered if my memory of the night’s tears and anguish, and attempts to breathe and ride the surf, were imagined. But I know they weren’t – because Vicky sounds and looks quite different to me this morning, and I feel very different. Is there a word for a new-found absence of fear? In my body, it’s close to ‘calm’ and ‘open’ and ‘relieved’.
What this discovery will mean, I don’t know. Once Vicky’s children are in bed tonight, I will tell her over dinner what I’ve learned about myself. If she doesn’t run off screaming, scared as hell by ME, of ME, it could be the beginning of a good conversation. I look forward to it, without fear OF her, or FOR her, or fear of where it might lead.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Just
It’s another day, and I’m enjoying it – enjoying just being me. Jeepers! WHAT is that ‘just’ in my last sentence doing there????? Is that the evidence of an old belief that little ol’ me, Lucy, is not worth being, that being me is a second-rate thing to do? I’m thoroughly shocked at what rolled off my finger tips right now, and sense a constriction in my chest and throat. But I’m glad that I’m aware that I’m noticing it. ‘It” feels like a discrepancy between what I’m feeling/doing and what I just wrote. Is it? Am I kidding myself that I’m seeing myself differently now, that I know and like and am really excited that ‘being me’ is a full time adventure/occupation/career/hobby and nothing to sneeze at or disparage or avoid? And that I’m not little, either.
Breathing is good, and right now, advisable!
. . . . . .
That was a huge movement! And at the end, I started playing with the word ‘just’ – just me, just being me, just right, just terrific . . . What an interesting, benign word in some contexts; and in the context that I construed it at the outset, it was pernicious. Just being me wasn’t ‘exclusively, purely, solely’ as it rolled off my fingers; it was ‘merely’ and somewhat apologetic and belittling. How Interesting, I sobbed to myself!
My father popped to mind as my breathing deepened. HE was a pro at considering himself ‘of lesser value’, and at keeping himself small, quiet and lovable. In fact he considered not standing out nor exposing himself to be ‘worthy’ attributes. He died at 68, having never given himself a chance to shine brightly; he produced wee sparks of life in moments when he felt safe and accepted; he otherwise kept himself small and silent; his friends and family loved him, but probably only knew a tiny part of him. And I grew up, not only to look just like him, but to be like him.
At Oceanstone in June, Amy was using her wonderful Reiki skills on my foot and, on the side (!) was able to sense my father’s presence in the room. It was an unexpected and welcome moment for me then; a first for me. It allowed me to express/feel/engage an enormous sense of grief that I had locked inside my body for thirty years. Over the weeks since then, I’ve been thinking a great deal about our conversation that night, and of my father’s importance in my life. The Emerging Futures conversations had brought home to me clearly that I am no longer willing to, and cannot – for MY sake, ‘keep myself small and puny’. My body knows this. One result of bringing my father’s spirit back into my awareness is that has the intensity and depth of what I’ve ‘signed on to’ grows enormously. It’s almost as if I’m growing more, being more, with him. And I feel my father’s encouragement and even pride that I’m doing what he never allowed himself to do. So it’s as if I have broken out of a shell/box (one with no air nor space to move and grow). There’s no guilt or shame, just a liberation and rejoicing. (Boxes are important parts of many Wel-Systems conversations I've had. Here they are again, today. Onion Layers!)
Having my father along for the ride, and having ‘announced’ my debut to the children this weekend . . . I feel pretty damn great! And big, too. I’m not quite the citizen of the world making a difference (those at the Emerging Futures will recognise the reference), but I see that my days of putting people on pedestals is over, and my days of being a full citizen with a unique and vibrant identity have begun.
So, if I go back to ‘just being me’ – I write the phrase without shock and dismay, now.
On the one hand, I still construe that phrase, as stated that way, as a second-rate occupation AND I feel strongly that it’s my old way of seeing myself. I honestly think those words will not roll off my fingertips again; that I will either drop the word just, or substitute it with really, totally, fully . . . . And soon, I think, I won’t even be writing about the novelty of ‘fully being me’ because it will have become how I move through the world at all times. My ‘roles’ of mother, wife, daughter, efficient woman and so on are losing their edges daily, I’m noticing, and MY true, own edges are feeling brighter and clearer minute by minute.
Blogging helps, but not as much as breathing does!
Both never end up where I think they will at the outset. And that’s so great, or do I mean that's absolutely JUST great?
Breathing is good, and right now, advisable!
. . . . . .
That was a huge movement! And at the end, I started playing with the word ‘just’ – just me, just being me, just right, just terrific . . . What an interesting, benign word in some contexts; and in the context that I construed it at the outset, it was pernicious. Just being me wasn’t ‘exclusively, purely, solely’ as it rolled off my fingers; it was ‘merely’ and somewhat apologetic and belittling. How Interesting, I sobbed to myself!
My father popped to mind as my breathing deepened. HE was a pro at considering himself ‘of lesser value’, and at keeping himself small, quiet and lovable. In fact he considered not standing out nor exposing himself to be ‘worthy’ attributes. He died at 68, having never given himself a chance to shine brightly; he produced wee sparks of life in moments when he felt safe and accepted; he otherwise kept himself small and silent; his friends and family loved him, but probably only knew a tiny part of him. And I grew up, not only to look just like him, but to be like him.
At Oceanstone in June, Amy was using her wonderful Reiki skills on my foot and, on the side (!) was able to sense my father’s presence in the room. It was an unexpected and welcome moment for me then; a first for me. It allowed me to express/feel/engage an enormous sense of grief that I had locked inside my body for thirty years. Over the weeks since then, I’ve been thinking a great deal about our conversation that night, and of my father’s importance in my life. The Emerging Futures conversations had brought home to me clearly that I am no longer willing to, and cannot – for MY sake, ‘keep myself small and puny’. My body knows this. One result of bringing my father’s spirit back into my awareness is that has the intensity and depth of what I’ve ‘signed on to’ grows enormously. It’s almost as if I’m growing more, being more, with him. And I feel my father’s encouragement and even pride that I’m doing what he never allowed himself to do. So it’s as if I have broken out of a shell/box (one with no air nor space to move and grow). There’s no guilt or shame, just a liberation and rejoicing. (Boxes are important parts of many Wel-Systems conversations I've had. Here they are again, today. Onion Layers!)
Having my father along for the ride, and having ‘announced’ my debut to the children this weekend . . . I feel pretty damn great! And big, too. I’m not quite the citizen of the world making a difference (those at the Emerging Futures will recognise the reference), but I see that my days of putting people on pedestals is over, and my days of being a full citizen with a unique and vibrant identity have begun.
So, if I go back to ‘just being me’ – I write the phrase without shock and dismay, now.
On the one hand, I still construe that phrase, as stated that way, as a second-rate occupation AND I feel strongly that it’s my old way of seeing myself. I honestly think those words will not roll off my fingertips again; that I will either drop the word just, or substitute it with really, totally, fully . . . . And soon, I think, I won’t even be writing about the novelty of ‘fully being me’ because it will have become how I move through the world at all times. My ‘roles’ of mother, wife, daughter, efficient woman and so on are losing their edges daily, I’m noticing, and MY true, own edges are feeling brighter and clearer minute by minute.
Blogging helps, but not as much as breathing does!
Both never end up where I think they will at the outset. And that’s so great, or do I mean that's absolutely JUST great?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Welcome Changes
I’m starting to recognise that my days of helping and/or pleasing others in order to give me the illusion of being accepted and necessary are over. I’m actually living differently – most of the time, at least! I’ve started making choices to say no, to ‘book out’ of the scene and do something that is meaningful to me – regardless of whether it’s helpful to the collective, to say yes to impulses even if it means deviating from what I had said I‘d do. It feels bold, strong and good in my body. Last year, under the same circumstances, when/if I acted that way, I’d feel guilty, selfish. Now it just feels like me.
.....……
I have had a hugely meaningful ‘conversation’ with my children. Both were here at the cottage this weekend (and Stefan is in Ottawa for RIA). I knew I wanted to finally say ‘my truth’ to them both, and together. I had no idea how this decloaking would happen, and I can’t even remember now how it actually did unfold. But I know that I was ‘there’, I was present, and what came out was right for the three of us at that time. Up until yesterday, my son was far more aware of my search for more, and of my discoveries. I have been reticent to expose myself to my daughter but I am fully aware that the time is more than ripe, and that I want to be totally honest with her too about who I am becoming. I think, in retrospect that I wanted to have them both together as I already can sense my son’s supportive and interested presence, and felt stronger with him at my side. I learned last evening that I had overdone my concern; my daughter listened actively and I felt her ‘at my side’ as well. I was honest about my new intention to actually live MY life. They could see that I ‘mean business’ about my intention to stay awake to my body, and about allowing myself to voice my thoughts, my feelings and to act on them whenever I have the clarity and impulse. They learned that I would probably be doing many things differently from now on, and they voiced their encouragement. We didn't talk about our love for each other, but I felt it in the room; and I think they did too.
I remember now that I used the following image: up til recently, I’ve been wanting a gin and tonic but I’ve been chicken to pour a strong one, or a large one, for fear of rocking the boat. So I’ve been pouring, or asking others for, tonic over ice and lime, and then I wonder why it’s not satisfying. And other various attempts at moderation and acceptableness, thinking I’d end up with a small, pleasant drink, Obviously, I’ve been mixing a watered-down version, insipid potions and never the real thing. And now I envision a very tall, strong, delicious G&T and I’m discovering how to mix it.
We had a good giggle, partly at how dumb the analogy is, but also, I think, because they had a vision of a new me, bolder and stronger and enlivened. At least, I saw myself that way as we talked, and it felt good - worth a joyful chuckle.
Later last night, and in fact, even now, lots of stuff was/is moving inside me: relief - that I’d chosen to (finally) speak up and out, and that I’m showing that I’m here now and alive in a new way; happiness - as I feel fully visible, and supported and accepted - sensations which are, for me, not insignificant!
And now as I write, I feel amazement that my family is willing to let me explore and grow, and are willing to accompany and support, even encourage me in this. I had underestimated, or misunderstood, them; I feel very grateful, very lucky – even though THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS!
……….
This morning, with the pouring rain outside, I gathered my four granddaughters around the table to paint. Even the three-year-old twins were totally focused and absolutely into the joy of smearing colours onto paper and seeing, and liking, what resulted. The five and seven year olds were more expert at handling their brushes and/but equally happy to create magic and surprise as their little sisters. The little bodies expressed pleasure and joy; their voices were clear and bright. I was learning a lot from them just by being with them, aware of what I was seeing and feeling, and living every minute of it. Not for a second did I wonder “isn’t there more?”
.....……
I have had a hugely meaningful ‘conversation’ with my children. Both were here at the cottage this weekend (and Stefan is in Ottawa for RIA). I knew I wanted to finally say ‘my truth’ to them both, and together. I had no idea how this decloaking would happen, and I can’t even remember now how it actually did unfold. But I know that I was ‘there’, I was present, and what came out was right for the three of us at that time. Up until yesterday, my son was far more aware of my search for more, and of my discoveries. I have been reticent to expose myself to my daughter but I am fully aware that the time is more than ripe, and that I want to be totally honest with her too about who I am becoming. I think, in retrospect that I wanted to have them both together as I already can sense my son’s supportive and interested presence, and felt stronger with him at my side. I learned last evening that I had overdone my concern; my daughter listened actively and I felt her ‘at my side’ as well. I was honest about my new intention to actually live MY life. They could see that I ‘mean business’ about my intention to stay awake to my body, and about allowing myself to voice my thoughts, my feelings and to act on them whenever I have the clarity and impulse. They learned that I would probably be doing many things differently from now on, and they voiced their encouragement. We didn't talk about our love for each other, but I felt it in the room; and I think they did too.
I remember now that I used the following image: up til recently, I’ve been wanting a gin and tonic but I’ve been chicken to pour a strong one, or a large one, for fear of rocking the boat. So I’ve been pouring, or asking others for, tonic over ice and lime, and then I wonder why it’s not satisfying. And other various attempts at moderation and acceptableness, thinking I’d end up with a small, pleasant drink, Obviously, I’ve been mixing a watered-down version, insipid potions and never the real thing. And now I envision a very tall, strong, delicious G&T and I’m discovering how to mix it.
We had a good giggle, partly at how dumb the analogy is, but also, I think, because they had a vision of a new me, bolder and stronger and enlivened. At least, I saw myself that way as we talked, and it felt good - worth a joyful chuckle.
Later last night, and in fact, even now, lots of stuff was/is moving inside me: relief - that I’d chosen to (finally) speak up and out, and that I’m showing that I’m here now and alive in a new way; happiness - as I feel fully visible, and supported and accepted - sensations which are, for me, not insignificant!
And now as I write, I feel amazement that my family is willing to let me explore and grow, and are willing to accompany and support, even encourage me in this. I had underestimated, or misunderstood, them; I feel very grateful, very lucky – even though THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS!
……….
This morning, with the pouring rain outside, I gathered my four granddaughters around the table to paint. Even the three-year-old twins were totally focused and absolutely into the joy of smearing colours onto paper and seeing, and liking, what resulted. The five and seven year olds were more expert at handling their brushes and/but equally happy to create magic and surprise as their little sisters. The little bodies expressed pleasure and joy; their voices were clear and bright. I was learning a lot from them just by being with them, aware of what I was seeing and feeling, and living every minute of it. Not for a second did I wonder “isn’t there more?”
Friday, July 6, 2007
Sensations
I created the space around me for an hour, this morning, to sit and just be, alone on the porch. The temperature, degree of sunshine, smells and silence (except for the 'natural' sounds - sans human intervention) were perfect. And as my breathing got deeper, and the ache in my foot (and extending up my right leg too) became fainter, my mind cleared and my 'understanding' that the moment was a huge one - without boundaries of any kind - was deep and meaningful. Although I don't know what it meant in the sense of KNOWING. And I don't mind that at all any more; I'm grateful for the wonderful feeling of abundance and safety that flowed through my body.
And the afternoon continues merrily, with the sounds of children's voices rejoicing with sound and movement on swings and plastic tractors and all the other props we have here to supplememnt their little legs when they 'need to move through space and experience their own bodies in motion. And the feeling of pleasure and interconnectedness remains in and enlivens MY body as I see aspects of myself reflected in the children carreening around me, each one different and unique, each one wonderful.
And NOW I've got to stop this musing, and get back - off the page into the flow - but this brief moment of writing has felt great. I needed to SAY my thoughts, I guess, and I'm glad I heard my body and migrated over to the computer.
And the afternoon continues merrily, with the sounds of children's voices rejoicing with sound and movement on swings and plastic tractors and all the other props we have here to supplememnt their little legs when they 'need to move through space and experience their own bodies in motion. And the feeling of pleasure and interconnectedness remains in and enlivens MY body as I see aspects of myself reflected in the children carreening around me, each one different and unique, each one wonderful.
And NOW I've got to stop this musing, and get back - off the page into the flow - but this brief moment of writing has felt great. I needed to SAY my thoughts, I guess, and I'm glad I heard my body and migrated over to the computer.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Here and NOW
I've so much to say, after the Emerging Futures - Leasdership program, and after a week of "real life" following the experience in Oceanstone, and now, today, here . . .
But time is NOT abundant for writing. I'm living in the present, choosing and moving; it feels bigger and fuller and it's wonderful. AND I'm going to make time very soon, to enjoy getting some of the whirling sensations that feel so good, into a communicable form to share with y'all.
For now, know my holodeck is rich and vibrant;that you're in my thoughts, and those of you who've blogged after and during the EF days have said lots that I 'could have said' too; and it was/is great to read it, and resonate with it and to continue to be in that space with you which felt so good, so big, so alive.
But time is NOT abundant for writing. I'm living in the present, choosing and moving; it feels bigger and fuller and it's wonderful. AND I'm going to make time very soon, to enjoy getting some of the whirling sensations that feel so good, into a communicable form to share with y'all.
For now, know my holodeck is rich and vibrant;that you're in my thoughts, and those of you who've blogged after and during the EF days have said lots that I 'could have said' too; and it was/is great to read it, and resonate with it and to continue to be in that space with you which felt so good, so big, so alive.
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