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Immerse Yourself

immerse yourself

The first college level course I taught was a seminar on the creative process.  I LOVED teaching this class– looking at the theories behind the creative process while practicing their impact with our own creativity.  I try really hard to come up with creative assignments as an educator, but the most creative assignments I’ve ever offered were in this class.

One of those projects was a Creativity Immersion experience.  The overview for the project read:

This project will focus on reviewing an artist’s work intensively.  The focus area can be within literature, the visual arts, film, music, dance, etc.  Students will submit a proposal for their immersion project that will include their reason for selecting an artist, an understanding of the scope of the periods that they will study, and an overview of the critical questions they wish to explore.  After having their proposal approved, students will review the work of the artist(s) from at least three different periods in order to discern patterns, moments, trends in the artist(s)’s creative evolution, etc. and the influences that may have factored into the creation of their art.

The final products for this project were incredible.  My students choose artists like Quentin Tarantino, Frida Kahlo, and Sting.  I learned so much about these artists (and their creative processes) as I graded.  It really was incredible.

I was reminded of this project recently when Happy and I were reading something like our eleventh book by Oliver Jeffers.  We first came across Jeffers’ work when I purchased, on a whim, his book Stuck.   We both loved it.  It’s funny and silly and just has the best voice.  After totally wearing out our copy of Stuck, I decided to look for more books by Jeffers and wouldn’t you know that all of my book requests at the library arrived on the same day and so we were all Jeffers all the time for a few days.  And it was fabulous because A. We already knew that we dug his stories and drawings and handwriting (he hand-letters the text in some of his books) but B. some of the characters show up in different books and so it was so fun to see what they were up to next.

Then, not long after our Jeffers immersion, a bunch of books by Kevin Henkes arrived for us at the library and we started a Henkes immersion.

We have also completed a Harry the Dog immersion, a Peter Reynolds immersion and some topical immersions on dinosaurs, lions, and now we’re diving into birds.

Our most inspired topical immersion was on the theme of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  Then we read Goldilocks and One Bear and Goldilocks and Three Dinosaurs.  That was a huge hit!

I’ve noticed, too, that I’ve been immersive in my reading lately:  tackling the work of Liane Moriarty, Harlan Coben,  Rainbow Rowell, and Megan Abbott.   I’ve also been thematically immersive:  stories about dangerous behaving teenage girls, thrillers, first loves, forty-something women in transition or upheaval.

It’s been a lot of fun to get on a kick and follow it through (I reckon this is the bookish’s version of binge watching).

Do you ever find yourself reading, listening, or viewing immersively?  What do you recommend for those moments?

If I only have one more chance to tell you…

only one more chance

I was reading before bed one night near the end of the semester, when a feeling of urgency came over me.

Have I told them everything, I wondered.  Have I given them every bit of wisdom that I have to help them with their self-acceptance journeys?

And so I started writing down what I wanted to make sure I had told them before our time together was done.

Want a semester of my body image class boiled down to its essence?

Here are twenty-five points I try to impress upon my students every semester:

1. You are here on purpose.   You have a gift you are meant to give to the world, and it has nothing to do with your body.

2.   There is something you are not doing for every minute you spend in the mirror obsessing.  Go do it.

3.  Self-acceptance starts with a choice.  The choice you are making is to not have an adversarial relationship with your self.  Every decision is about not being your own adversary.

4. There is nothing you have to do to prove your worth.  You have worth simply because you exist.

5.  One of our greatest mistakes is thinking that if we change our body, we can change our minds.  Happiness is an inside job.  You have to change your mind.

6.  If someone comments about your physicality or station in life, it is not about you.

7.  People will sometimes say crappy things in the hopes of making themselves feel better.  Don\’t listen to the one.

8.  We teach people how to treat us. Choose your boundaries and communicate them with others.  A simple, “this isn’t a conversation we are going to have” can communicate more than you thought nine words were capable of conveying.

9.  People will sometimes say crappy things because they do not have better words but they do not mean it the way it sounds.  In those moments, assuming right intention can help you both. A powerful part of the self-acceptance journey is that you can begin to not assume blame either way and distinguish when to assume they had a better intention or put up a boundary.

10.  Beauty is so incredibly subjective.  There is not one look that is universally pleasing.  If you want to be in a partnership, who you are right now is someone’s cup of tea. But you have to start by being your own cup of tea.

11.  If there is no perfect, there can be no imperfect. We are each meant for our own unique expression.

12.  You vote with your time.  Don’t watch shows or read magazines that cause you discomfort.

13. You vote with your dollar.  Don’t pay for products that make you feel less than.

14.  You vote with your voice.  You can share your disdain for any message that demeans you.

16.  If something or someone makes you feel bad, you don’t have to continue your exposure.  You can quit anything that hurts you.

17. We spend so much of our adolescence trying to hide what makes us unique and so much of our adulthood trying to point it out.  Don’t mask what you have to offer.  Embrace it now.

18.  All natural day isn’t just good once.  Embrace your natural state more regularly.

19.  A media fast isn’t just good for a grade.  Create more media free moments in your life.

20.  There is no less interesting conversation than one rooted in body shame.

21.  Set ground rules.  Make your ear space a body snark free zone- for you and others.

22.  That party that has you paralyzed about how you look?   No one there cares about how you look as much as you do.

23.  People might remember what you wore.  They could remember how you looked.  But they will always remember how you made them feel.

24.  Look people in the eye.  They deserve to be seen.  You do, too.

25.  You can do anything.  You do not have to do everything.

And a bonus:  While you are not defined by your body, you have a responsibility to your body because it is your vehicle through this life.  What do you need to take care of you?  Offer yourself that. Now.  You will never regret taking good care of yourself.

 

Friday Reflections

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Every Friday, I reflect on the week that has just passed by doing a little senses exercise.  This practice is a gentle, easy way to tune into how we are doing, what we are experiencing, and what we are grateful for while more acutely tuning into our senses.  It’s a whole heart exercise with plenty of bodily input, if you will.  Because this practice has been so good for me, I want to encourage you to do it, too.  Building some gentle reflection into our weeks is a nice way to stay grounded while maintaining some big picture perspective.  So please join me in this week’s Friday Reflections (with each sense as your inspiration, consider how experiencing it impacted your week).

Here is my sensory round-up for this week:
tasting ::  the most incredible spinach pizza, broiled bacon-wrapped chicken with sweet potatoes, slow cooker garlic chicken, roasted broccoli, lemon orzo and meatball soup, Mediterranean Couscous and Lentil Salad (with some cucumbers in the mix), avocado and hummus

hearing ::  really lovely hymns sung by the church choir at Nana’s funeral, Widor’s Toccata, You Never Even Called Me By My Name by David Allen Coe,  Let Me Clear My Throat, Could It Be Another Change by The Samples

smelling :: garlic chicken in the slow cooker, chlorine from the pool, blooming magnolias, lilies so fragrant they made me woozy

seeing ::  dear loved ones from near and far as we celebrated Nana’s life, feathers all over our driveway (I think some poor unsuspecting bird got dive-bombed by another) and a sweet little blue egg in a nest the mama Purple Finch made in the yellow Jasmine on the porch, pelicans diving into the ocean for lunch, and a solitary dolphin making its way through the fish pools in the Atlantic

feeling ::  the way a heart can break at losing someone but yet be open to love, very grateful for the work of Hospice doctors, nurses, and caregivers, and clear-eyed and big-hearted

particularly enjoying* ::  that the boys run off to the pool as soon as BF comes home from work so that I can run to the gym for a yoga or Pilates class before dinner, thrilled that summer allows me to turn countless pages of books that I’ve been wanting to read (just in the last 10 days, I’ve read:  Dangerous Girls, Dare Me,  Calling Me Home,  Attachments,  and Without Warning, and the sound of Happy’s proud voice as he works through reading me his I Can Read books.

What about you?  What were your sensational experiences this week?  Please share!

* usually that last category is wishing but I just wanted to relish in what I really enjoyed this week.

This post was inspired by Teacher Goes Back to School who was inspired by Pink of Perfection’s Five Sense Friday.

10 Things I Loved in May 2014

10 things I loved in May 2014

At the end of each month, I take stock of the previous month.  What went well?  What did I learn?  What brought me a simple joy?  These monthly reports are a way to encourage myself to take delight in the littlest of things.  I find that Ten Things I Loved allows me to always see the silver lining, even when there are hard moments in a month.  And taking joy in the simple things is paramount to how I want to live, making 10 things an invaluable tool for me.  Here’s this month’s simple pleasures.

Professionalish things

1.  Mission Manifest  

Since I started writing mission statements in my late teens, they have served me well– grounding and focusing me in how I want to direct my energy and talents and inspiring me to push myself a little bit further.  Because of the difference they have made for me, I love introducing other people to them.  In May, I did a couple different Mission Manifest workshops and was so inspired by what people claimed for themselves.  In addition to doing the workshop I hosted, I was also invited to do the Mission Manifest workshop with the professors at the hospital where I have been working with the med students.  The med students did the mission statement workshop with me back in October and so the program decided to give the same opportunity to their supervising physicians.  It was such an honor to work with about 15 of them– who do everything from providing acupuncture to PTSD patients in the emergency room to working with child abuse victims- on their mission statements.

2.  The end of the semester

Another semester of Body Image class drew to a close and as I said goodbye to those sweet young people, I felt really lucky to have walked alongside them for a few months.  They were so wise and ready to relate to themselves in a different way, and every class period was a pleasure.  Lucky me.

3.  PPP retreats

On a list of things that never get old:  Passion. Purpose. Plunge retreats.  It is so inspiring to have the opportunity to encourage someone towards a dream she has and then help to craft an action plan to make it happen.  I love the variety of this work but how it is all rooted in wanting to be as authentic and intentional and on purpose as possible.  With my belief that we are all here on purpose, I feel so grateful that I can be a part of someone getting closer to her own truth in that.

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4.  Great Circle de Luz partnerships.  Circle de Luz has a couple new exciting partnerships that will have an incredible impact on our girls for years to come.  The first one is with E2D which stands for Eliminate the Digital Divide, an incredible program inspired by the tough question a pre-teen girl asked her parents one night.  Now, E2D is committed to insuring that every student in Charlotte Mecklenburg Schools has a computer at home (and gets wired!).  Incredible, eh?  The digital divide and desert have been a big issue that our CdL families face and we are so excited about this partnership!

Our other exciting new partnership is with Social Venture Partners Charlotte.  They are providing us with financial and logistical support over the next three days as we strategic plan and create a sustainable organization and an even richer experiencer for our hijas.

*the photo above is of Happy creating a poster to promote a Lemonade Stand we hosted for E2D’s mega lemon stand day, their annual fundraiser.  With 25 lemonade stands, E2D raised over $4000 in three hours!

5.  Right in the Middle  This annual mother-daughter conference, hosted by Michelle Icard of Michelle in the Middle, is always a joy.  I am always honored to do a workshop at this event.  This year, I focused on media literacy with the moms and their daughters.  There is another conference in August if you are local (sadly, I have  a conflict and can’t be at that one) and Michelle has a great new book out if you are looking for resources for positively parenting middle schoolers.     

Personal things

end of school

6.  Saying goodbye to the preschool years.  The days are long and the years are short.  There isn’t a truer adage when it comes to parenting, is there?  Somehow this little guy morphed into this big guy…

from months to years

 

and, now, here we are, staring down Kindergarten.  The final month of the preschool years was really fun.  I got to be the last Mystery Reader in his transitional Kindergarten class, there was a butterfly release (of little caterpillars they had shepherded to the butterfly stage), a lovely graduation, a beginner’s day at Kindergarten.  It’s a great sign when it’s over and your kid says, “I WANT TO STAY!”  A lovely way to end what has been a special preschool year and a special time to be home with my boy.

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7.  A trip to the beach.     

With school out for both me and Happy, we hit the beach for a few days to play mini-golf, enjoy the Lazy River, hot tub, and pool where we were staying, run the beach and jump waves, and watch as Happy went down this enormous slide on the beach over 25 times.  It came after some heart breaking news (see below) and the salt water, chlorine, and book reading were great salves.

 

With nana

8.  Saying goodbye to an amazing role model.   One of my all-time favorite women is BF’s grandmother.  Nana was ahead of her time and a real Renaissance women.  She was a piano virtuoso (one of my all time favorite pictures is of her and Happy playing piano together when he was about 2 but I don’t have it on my computer!), a tap dancer, an insatiable book worm, a swimmer, a bike rider, an incredible chef, all while being funny and kind and really, really good.  She passed away last week after a too long dance with Alzheimer’s but we and she enjoyed her 92 years tremendously.  We were fortunate to know a few days before she passed that the time was coming and Hospice was called in and we had a chance to be with her and each other and say goodbye and all those things were so, so good.  And then her funeral service was a thing of beauty– the music alone was breathtaking– and we had an incredible time with just pausing and being with people who loved her and us.  So it was heartbreaking and the pits but it was also the most you could ask for this in this kind of situation and so I feel grateful and full-hearted.

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9.  A day trip to see my parents.  I was hopeful that my parents would join us for a bit but traveling is hard for them so I traveled down to spend a day with them and it was, as always, such a delight. I can easily do things for them that make their lives easier, they are always so grateful, and it is just fun to sit and enjoy their company, a luxury not always afforded.  Here’s to more day trips.    

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 10.  Happy’s recital.  So I was a dance mom this year as Happy took a creative movement class at the local dance studio.  We thought we would try it to help him get more body awareness (knowing where he is in space is not always very present in his mind), and he just loved it.  His dance recital was Alice in Wonderland and boy did my boy take his role as a Dream Dancer super seriously.  I think he was the Dance Dad in his classroom.  My pre-recital picture of him is all red eyes and blurry (my camera is broken and I am relying on my very outdated smart phone to do the job and, let me tell you, it isn’t) but here’s a shot from him before class one day with his absolutely adorable black ballet slippers.

 

So, what did you love in May? 

Make your summer spark

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Happy and the family’s Summer of Intentionality 2014 list

Summer.

Just saying the word elicits a certain feeling.

Though I loved school so much that I became a teacher, I have always wholeheartedly welcomed summer.  There is just something about the possibility of summer, the way its days are a blank canvas to mold into what you most want, what you most need.  But for too many summers, my excitement about what might be possible in a summer was never fully realized.

Then, in 1995, I learned a powerful tool that changed how I approached summers and how I am hoping to help my son approach summers.  Like several summers before (and many after), I was working at a holistic residential summer enrichment program for high school students called Love of Learning.  The program always began with a very intense, often emotional staff retreat to help us form bonds and make plans that would enrich our work.

Usually, the retreat included the writing of personal mission statements and manifestos (and thus my belief in the power of both was born), exercises meant to help us capture our values and gifts in a way that would allow them to be our guide as we did our work.  These sessions were the highlight of the retreat for me, always making me feel inspired not just by my own statements but awed by those of my co-workers.

One of my closest co-workers was a dear friend who was a year behind me in school.  This particular year, he included part of Rudyard Kipling’s If poem in his statement and my mouth rounded into awe as he added the words from the top of his head while we worked together in the corner, a pile of candy between us.

“Dude, how did you know that?”  I asked, impressed.

And that’s when he shared about the coolest parenting strategy I’ve ever heard.

Every summer that he was growing up, his parents sat him down and said, “what all do you want to do this summer?”  And he would come up with this super list:

go to the local amusement park

check out a pro or semi-pro baseball game

have a friend spend the night

camp out

go to the beach

go fishing

Basically, the stuff of summer dreams.

Then they said, “what do you want to learn or experience this summer” and that list would read like:

learn how to throw a football spiral

identify 5 insects

write Grandma three times

read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, etc.

Then his parents would add their own things to the learn or experience list like:

Memorize Rudyard Kipling’s If

Volunteer, etc.

Next, they’d line up each experience with a reward.

Write your grandma three times, you can go camping.

Memorize Kipling’s If and you get to go to a baseball game.

And so on.

Those lists hit the refrigerator and then it was up to my friend, by being intentional about how he spent his time, to make things happen.  If he did what was on the “to experience” list, he earned what was on the ”to do” list.

Hence, more than a decade later, he still had If (a great poem for a kid to know) in his head.

Intentionality matters.  Needless to say, the idea of capturing what I wanted to do and experience over the summer- a master to do list if you will- thrilled the girl who always kept a day to day to do list.

Now, my family has our own version of this tradition that we call Summer of Intentionality.  During Memorial Day weekend, we sit down and brainstorm a master list of things we want to do over the course of the summer as a family and things we think are great for our son to try or do (like learning how to make his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich or going through his toys and donating some).   While we’re at it, I make my own personal list that includes some fun things that I want to do and some bigger work to dos that I’ve been dreaming about getting off the ground but that my teaching schedule prohibits during the school year.  When we’re done, we transfer the lists onto butcher paper and hang them prominently in our home.   As each item gets completed, we cross them off our lists.  For items with multiple parts (like read 100 books), we keep track of them in a journal until we’ve completed them and then check them off the master list.  These master lists work whether or not you have kids and no matter your kids’ ages.  As Happy gets older (I am thinking either the summer after Kindergarten or the summer after First Grade), we will likely move to the “earn your adventure” approach.

Today, I want to encourage you to create your own Summer of Intentionality dream list for you or your whole family.

What do you want to learn, do, experience, enjoy?

Capture all your wishes, make plans, and then get started having a summer that lives up to your hopes with the caveat that not necessarily every single thing will be crossed off the list, but you are far less likely to get to the end of summer and think, “I wish I had…”

 

You have not run out of time. Yet.

This is Happy’s first week of summer and so I am not creating new blog content this week so that we can kick things off just right!  Here’s a blog post from March 2013.  Hope you enjoy and see you Monday with a new post!

Truth:  I do not have naturally pretty handwriting.

Also true:  I am often complimented on my handwriting.

What?

I was a high school teacher in the age of overhead projectors.  I had those little clear plastic sheets that I would write essential notes on for my class and then my students would take notes from mine as I lectured the class on things that I barely remember any more like the Stamp Act and The Battle of Wounded Knee.

My kids HATED my handwriting and bitched about it all the time.

“If you want us to be able to get down these notes, you are gonna have to write better,” someone would inevitably say to me at some point during a lecture.

And because I wanted my kids to get down those notes so that they would have something to study so that they could pass my class and the state exam and actually become seniors in high school (total pressure there as my class was directly tied to their route to high school graduation), I decided that I needed to relearn how to write.  And so I did.  I totally taught myself a whole new personal font.

But, as you might imagine, this post has very little to do with handwriting.

It has more to do with finding out that that the way we are doing something is not serving our end objective and then actively working towards a change so that we are more able to reach our goals.

My goal, back then, was to teach in a way that allowed my students to learn how to be in the world, how to be vital, giving community members, how to be self-aware and to keep themselves safe and, also, what they needed to know about history in order to be wise, responsible citizens of the world (who are capable of passing a state exam that determines whether or not they are on track for high school graduation).

And so I did a lot of things to achieve my goals: developed connections with each of my students so that they understood that I found them worthy  and so that they felt seen and heard and understood and knew that they always had a place to turn, came up with and held all of us- including me- to community norms of how to be a family in the space of 90 minutes of a class period, demanded their thoughtful reflection on a variety of issues and pushed them to be more and more aware of themselves, learned everything I could about moments in history and how to teach them to make their learning more interesting and evocative, and then, ultimately, taught myself how to write again at 23 so that they could capture the highlights of things and be more easily able to study their notes.

When we want something, it is amazing what we will do to achieve it.

Sometimes, we tell ourselves that we are too old for something, that time has passed us by.

But it hasn’t.  There is still time if you are willing to give it energy.

Just this past Saturday I taught a writing workshop and one participant was 77, retired, and ready to get everything she had to say out.  She is going to start blogging at 77 because she has so much to say.  Thoughtfully she said, “The time goes so quickly.  I don’t know how much I have left.  I need to get started.”

And there you have it.  It is just that simple.

We do have time.  It is not too late.  But we do not have all the time in the world.

What are you waiting to do?  What do you most need to do but don’t believe you can?

Insist to yourself that those limits are self-imposed.  Push yourself past them.  Insist that you get out of life what you most want, what you have most dreamed.

And then go after it.  You have not run out of time yet, but, if you keep waiting, you will.

Radiate Love

It is Happy’s first week of summer so I am hanging with him and not writing new blog content this week.  Today’s post is from April 2013.  Hope you enjoy!

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It can take a long time to learn how to love, to really love, to not be so scared of what’s happening to you or what is being asked of you that you don’t dart.

When we are young, we do not necessarily know this truth.  We think that we already know how to love, we think that if someone leaves us it is only about what they find lacking in us.

Over the past few weeks, I have read my students’ Beautiful You journals.  In them, they share the trajectory of how and why they feel the way they do about themselves.

They peel back their layers, expose themselves.  It is a lot that I ask of them.

I understand this.

But I also understand- know without a doubt- that the first step towards radical self-acceptance begins with awareness, with looking at yourself without flinching, with listening to yourself without covering your ears, with understanding that you are not too flawed, too bad, unworthy

That is the thing that damns us.  The idea that we are unworthy.  But we aren’t.  Worth isn’t earned. Worth is a birthright.  We just don’t always understand this.  We aren’t always taught this.  Sometimes, we refuse to believe this, even as we acknowledge the worth of others.

I just want someone to think I am worth staying for or with… we lament.

But here is the thing.  We are the ones who must believe this about ourselves.  We are the ones who have to commit to stay.  When we do that, everything shifts.  When we decide that we no longer have to run- with our mean words, substance abuse, personal disrespect that comes in any of a number of flavors-  from ourselves and our truth, when we are finally able to bring our eyes up to the mirror, lock our souls with those deep true orbs and say, “I am all in” is when everything changes.

And that moment is when we really, truly can begin to understand how to love.

Nobody stays for me, we lament.

And yet we miss the point.  It is not that boy/young man/man with those ceaseless green eyes that first needs to stay or that girl/young woman/ woman with that smattering of freckles that remind you of the night sky that needs to believe in you.

Before you will find love that can really, truly stay with you, that can keep you company, that can hold you in both the literal and figurative darkness, you have to find yourself.   You have to stay for you.  You have to believe.

And so, I want to tell my students who are both twenty years my juniors, my contemporaries, or even older than me, the first step in finding a love that lasts is finding a relationship with yourself that is respectful, honorable, drenched in your worthiness.

Find that, I want to say, and you can find your way to everything else you want in your life.  Maybe it is a life partnership.  Maybe it is a commitment to a cause whose very course you will alter.  Maybe it is the sensation of drinking in all the world’s wild.  The infinite actually becomes possible.

I once felt this way, too, I write back to them after reading their pages.  I once felt broken and unlovable and wretched, I say.  And then I realized that we are all broken.  That brokenness is the most basic stroke of life.  That we are actually each a slate of stained glass, and if we would just allow the light to shine through our cracks, we could make something even more brilliant because of what we have experienced

You are not broken, I want to tell them.  Do not be afraid to let the light in through the opaqueness.

We believe that our beauty lies in our opacity.  But it is not the opacity that moths gravitate towards, is it?  The opacity is impenetrable.  It does not let us in.  We worry that lightness, that truth, reveals our fault lines and that if someone sees our truth, if we see our truth, then we cannot be loved.

And so we keep ourselves from loving and being loved.  We punish ourselves.

Years ago, a young man that I was not ready to love- because I had not yet learned to love anything without fear, myself most of all- traced the outermost limits of a wretched scar on my knee.

I said something to him like, “I know; it’s awful.”

And the way he looked at me was so broken open, so adoring that it probably was the moment that set in motion that I would not be able to stay because I saw how much more capable he was of love than I was.  It may have been the thing that ultimately repelled me but it is one of the gifts he left me, one of the ways he set me up to fall in love after him, not so much with another man as with life, with myself.  I wanted to marvel at my scarred self the way he marveled at my knee.

“Scars show character,” he whispered in reverence, tracing it one more time.

A few years before, I had told another young man that I adored that we could never make it because he needed someone who was more broken than I was.  I thought my observation was so astute in that moment.  In fact, it was a story that I was selling myself.

“You need someone who is higher maintenance than me,” I said, as if I was above the maintenance that comes with love.

Later, I would come to understand that because I wasn’t willing to be vulnerable, because I wouldn’t let anyone see my fault lines, because I was, in fact, so scared of my very brokenness, I kept missing out on love.  Not because it wasn’t coming from other people but because it didn’t come from myself.

So as that sweet young man traced the fault lines of my anatomy, the living embodiments of my scars, something in me began to come into focus.  Within months, I told him that I could no longer be with him, as I became exceedingly aware of the fact that I needed to be comfortable being with myself.

It is not you, it is me had never been a more true concept.   Because when I glimpsed his capacity to love me, I realized that I owed myself and possibly some “him” down the road the capacity to love myself.  That I needed to recognize that love, acceptance, care of myself welcomes everything else.

At the end of every semester, I try to find words to tell my students.  I like for those words to be that class’s words—words found and defined from our unique journey together.  Though I have taught this class more than a dozen times now, though some of the stats and subject matter and readings are the same, each class is its own unique embodiment.

And so when I look at this class for the last time on May 3rd, I will tell them that our scars reveal our character.  They show our strengths and not our weaknesses and that the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the capacity to honor the journey that we have taken, to honor all that life has taught us, to aim each day to do good rather than be willing to do harm to ourselves or others.  That the very thing that makes us feel lonely is the thing about which someone else feels most alone.  And that when we begin to radiate, when we no longer feel like we must disguise our cracks, then we no longer hide our light.  And when we offer our light, the flower heads and moths turn to us, the birds sing, and our capacity to love warms like lightning, like fire, like life itself.

Shine on, I will tell them.  Radiate love.

Fitting Room SOS

it is Happy’s first week of summer and so I am taking the week off from writing new blog content so I can kick-off the summer with him.  Today’s blog post comes from May of last year.  Hope you enjoy it.

We are forgoing this week’s spark because a dear friend recently emailed me seeking advice about how to handle a fitting room emergency.  I thought the answer might be something you’d be interested in and so I asked her permission to share some of our exchange here.  It may not be anything you need right now, but, hopefully, filing it away will be helpful later!

Trying on bathing suits today, my daughter realized that her bottom isn’t the same size as her top and that she doesn’t just strictly fit in clothes that are the same size as her age any more. Help! I want my beautiful daughter to feel beautiful.

My advice? This is about the clothes— obviously, nothing is wrong with her body-because bodies aren’t wrong and bodies all develop in different ways and at different paces but because clothing is made in production, it doesn’t always account for the nuances of bodies. But you can help your daughter develop some ease around clothing sizes and an ability to see them just as a tool and not a judgment.

Because a script can be a helpful tool (don’t feel like you have to follow it word for word.  It’s just a guide), here is what I might say:

As we get older, our bodies develop at different rates and so sizes aren’t really about your age any more, and not all sizes- from store to store or style to style- will be the same. Sometimes we’ll need an 8 in one store and a 10 in another and sometimes we’ll need a 10 for one part of our body and a 12 on another part of the body.  The numbers don’t really mean anything other than to give us a guide when we are trying to choose what to try on. 

Every body is different and every body grows at different rates and clothes are all different, too.  Sometimes you’ll see people who are really tall because that is how their body is meant to grow right now and sometimes you’ll see people with lots of muscles because that is how they are supposed to grow right now.  Nothing is right or wrong on a body.  It’s just about what your body needs and is doing right now.

 As you move forward, stay aware of what she is noticing and make any appropriate little course corrections here and there.  Later, when the time is right, you can celebrate bodies that might be more like hers (for example, you might watch some tennis this summer and say something like “I admire how strong the Williams sisters are) without overemphasizing it. The key is to help her think more broadly about beauty and bodies without making it all about bodies and beauty because, in the end, that’s not the most important thing anyway, and you don’t want to accidentally teach her otherwise. You are doing a good job, mama. Trust your instinct.

Have you run into fitting room issues with your children?  How did you handle it?  What advice do you have?

{image source?  Karen Gunton from Build a Little Biz.  Her stuff is totally amazing.)

Friday Reflections

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Every Friday, I reflect on the week that has just passed by doing a little senses exercise.  This practice is a gentle, easy way to tune into how we are doing, what we are experiencing, and what we are grateful for while more acutely tuning into our senses.  It’s a whole heart exercise with plenty of bodily input, if you will.  Because this practice has been so good for me, I want to encourage you to do it, too.  Building some gentle reflection into our weeks is a nice way to stay grounded while maintaining some big picture perspective.  So please join me in this week’s Friday Reflections (with each sense as your inspiration, consider how experiencing it impacted your week).

Here is my sensory round-up for this week:
tasting ::  lemon squares, lemonade and key lime cookies at our lemonade stand fundraiser last weekend for a local nonprofit that provides computers to families who do no have them in their home, garden vegetable soup, hummus, chicken salad sandwich, grilled corn, and sushi

hearing ::  lots of songs sung by the sweetest of voices as there were all sorts of closing events at preschool this week and the end of two books on tape as I took a solo day trip to South Carolina to spend time with my parents

smelling ::  honeysuckle on my morning runs

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seeing ::  butterflies being released by the preschoolers as part of their study of insects (they shepherded caterpillars to the butterfly stage), Happy dancing his tush off as he prepares for a performance in Alice in Wonderland this weekend, Happy’s sweet little transitional kindergarten class “graduate”

feeling ::  very aware of the transition that is coming for my little family

wishing/hoping ::  for a wonderful summer filled with good things that fill our wells, connect us further, and bring us joy

What about you?  What were your sensational experiences this week?  Please share!

This post was inspired by Teacher Goes Back to School who was inspired by Pink of Perfection’s Five Sense Friday.

on trying not to raise a punk

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“Be a good friend,” I tell him as I stoop to kiss that sweet cheek of his before he walks into his TK classroom.

Right now, he still lets me kiss his cheek in front of his friends and hold his hand when we cross the road.  I know those days are numbered and so I relish the feel of his cool cheek on my lips, the feel of his weighty fingers in my palm.  I cherish the imprint of his body pulled against mine as we wait for traffic to clear so we can cross the road on our walk to school.  I memorize the long, circuitous stories he tells me, stories that I cannot quite figure out but that I know are brimming with meaning to him.

I answer his rat-a-tat questions with as much precision and gravity and accuracy as I can, and I chastise myself for not looking up that bird he asked about yesterday because there it is, alighting in front of us again this morning.  And when he runs off from me, when we separate and he heads into his world- a world that I barely know- I pray that we’ve done enough to prepare him to be kind in a world that won’t always be kind back; that we have done enough to show him how to weather disappointments with grace; that what people will note about him is his good heart and that that good heart will serve him well in life, whatever direction it takes him.

The other day, we had to take the back way home from the store because the interstate was backed up. He has always hated the back way, and I have never understood why.  I tried again to ask him about it.  This time, he had finally found his words.

“When we go the back way, we have to pass by the hospital,” he started.  And I flashed to a couple years back when our amazing neighbor, who is like a grandmother to him, landed there after she broke her foot in a bike accident and we picked her up.  I remembered how worried he had been about her.

“And passing by the hospital reminds me that people are sick and hurt and that makes me so sad. I don’t want people to be sick or hurt.  I don’t want them to have blood (his phrase for when someone is bleeding).”Tk bird on leg

We all have dreams for our kids.  Mine is simple in theory, but I am worried about its execution.  I just don’t want my kid to be a punk.  He can love whoever he loves (or not), he can do whatever his passion and purpose are professionally and personally, but, please, please, please, let him be a good person who fights for justice and equity and looks after the people in his life with a deep swath of compassion.  Let him think independently and be a voice of reason and compassion for himself and for others.  And with more of his time spent away from us, I don’t always know how we’re doing with raising the kind of person who is good to others.  Couple that with the days where he is stormy and mad about something that feels insignificant, when bedtime cannot come fast enough for all of us, and it’s easy to think we might actually have a fast pass on the road to Punkville.  And so this reason for not wanting to pass the hospital took my breath.  I looked at my boy, his curls askew and sweaty from running during every minute of recess that day, and my heart struck against the cage of my chest.  That day, it felt like Punkville wasn’t so close.

“Well, honey,” I told him.  “Let’s blow them a kiss when we drive by to wish them well.”

And we did.  I got lost in thought about it until he saw there was traffic the back way, too, and started ceaselessly registering his complaints.

A day passes.  We take the back way by that hospital again.  I watch him in the rear view as we drive by.  He blows a kiss and then says, “I don’t want any of our neighbors to ever get sick or hurt again.”  I know we cannot protect him from that.  All we can do is try our best to emulate to him how to show up when hard things happen.  And so we will.

But before I can get too sentimental or nostalgic, his eyes flicker onto something on the back of the seat in front of him.

“Ewww!”  He says.

“What’s up?”  I ask.

“There’s a booger on the back of that seat.”

“Well, we know who put it there,” I answer because, seriously, boys.

He looks at me indignant.  I will not blame this on him, his look says.

“You know it was not me!”  He insists.

“Oh, yeah,” I ask.  “How is that?”

“Because you know me, mama, I eat my boogers.”

And there you have it.

Not a punk, maybe, at least not yet.  But we totally have a fast pass to Grossville.

A final note:  I was relieved to learn that it was actually some chocolate.