I Remember Her

Go placidly among the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence....Be gentle with yourself....You are a child of the universe. No less than the trees and the stars....In the noisy confusion of life keep peace in your soul....With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world....Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.   - Excerpts from "Desiderata" (Latin for "Things Desired") by American Writer and Poet, Max Ehrmann, 1927.

Do you remember yourself as a child? Not the way you looked but the way you felt and how you lived. I remember her...My inner child. She is still inside of me and I have reached in and re-connected with her many times over the years. 

She has always been my hope. She speaks to me in times of sorrow and reminds me of who I really am and not what I think I used to be. She is artistic, funny, and passionate. She is sassy, strong, and adventurous. She plays, creates, imagines, and dreams. She helps, appreciates, and feels everything.  Life was not always easy for her, but, she made it through and still saw the beauty in the world. She never gives up and never gives in because she strives to be happy  (and she was and still is.)

She makes me laugh and cry sometimes, but, most of all, she keeps me grounded. She lets me know that no matter what happens, she is still in me and never fails to convince me that I am and will always be her....the person that I was born to be despite whatever age I am at or whatever life throws at me. 

I respect, honor, and believe in that girl and everything she represents to me. She deserves that. I deserve that. 

It is hard when the world takes such ugly turns and we have to absorb it and, yet, adapt and move on. Our world seems to be caught in such a horrible cycle of hate and violence. You never know when or how it will occur but it does. Then, our social media explodes. The heartbreaking headlines, the death tolls, the faces of the victims and the killers. Our president speaks, the candle light vigils and moments of silence occur, our undying pledges of love and support. Then, the false sense of normalcy until the next event and we go through the same drill as we did before. 

I will never get used to the hurt and pain. I feel it so deeply every time. I often find my only peace is in silence. I can't continually read about it or look at it or it does consume me and I often begin to worry about my children and the cruel direction of the world they may have to face in their lifetimes. That is when I find solace in remaining true to myself and the belief that the same life lessons I have taught them will always echo through their inner children no matter what happens in this chaotic world we seem to have no control over anymore.
There is so much we can't change but if I have learned anything in life it is the importance of  keeping a sense of peace in your soul. Nurture the strength of your spirit so it can help shield you in misfortune. Never become so broken that you can't still see or find beauty in the world. 

It is hard to believe that "Desiderata" was written in 1927 as it can be applied to any moment in time. Its message resonates so deeply in me and speaks to me like that inner child. I found myself needing to read this after the recent Orlando events.

Here is the poem in its entirety: 

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Frida

"They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn't. I never painted dreams, I painted my own reality." Frida Kahlo

In Frida's short life, she endured more pain and heartache than many of us. However, she allowed her turmoil to fuel her art and she captured a world on canvas in a way she could control instead of it controlling her. Her debilitating injuries, her deep and ongoing grief of children she would never have....it was all there. The hospital visits, being homesick, the infidelity, the isolation.... she never hid it and decided to display it. For some, it might be hard to understand why, and, in such a graphic way, she would show us this private and vulnerable side of her. Why couldn't she stick to flowers, Mexican landscapes, or even just keep doing her infamous self portraits? Simply, because it was the real her and what she could relate to the most about herself. However, those feelings - heartache, loss, grief, etc... she refused to hide them and wanted so desperately to release them. So, art became her therapy. It was her welcoming and non judgmental space. It was what she was good at. It was what she could give and not have to take.
I always find it fascinating when I see the way people cope. How tragedy can have silver linings and how there are moments of hope, progress, gratitude, healing, and even happiness if you refuse to allow yourself to get swallowed up in those difficult times and defined by them.
Recently, I dropped my son off at a birthday party at a trampoline park. It was my intention to meet the parents, verify the pick up time, embarrass him with a kiss, and leave but I still find it very hard for me to do. The risk of him having another head injury always weighs very heavily on me. He knows the risks. He is aware of his surroundings and always makes good choices but he is still a kid and deserves to have carefree moments. My stealthily lurking in the background may help me cope but it certainly doesn't help his ego. So, I sighed and was ready to head for the door when I noticed someone staring at me and trying to make eye contact.
 I recognized her as a mother of a child my son went to school with but I wouldn't say I knew her enough to stop and chat with her. However, I could tell by the way she was following me that an encounter was inevitable and I was right. She quickly approached me as I was trying to leave and she said "hello." I said "hello" back and awkwardly waited a few seconds to see where this was going. Sure enough, it turned into the "I heard about the accident" conversation that I dread, especially from people I don't know well. However, it quickly turned into something that I hadn't expected or even experienced. She looked at me intently like she was trying to dissect me and asked, "How do you do it?" I said, "Do what?" and she responded, "How do you move forward. How do you not let it destroy you?" Hmm, I have never been asked that.
I shared with her my hesitation to leave him and how I still worry. Then, I explained to her how I have refused to let it define us and that is why I was heading for the exit when she saw me. Most importantly, though, I have learned to allow myself to feel the emotions I have needed to feel along the way but I have never given into the negative and, potentially, damaging ones.
 She trusted me with a personal part of her life by admitting to me that she was attacked and badly beaten by a stranger many years ago. Then, it started to make sense to me as to why she sought me out and wanted to talk to me. It wasn't just advice on how to move on as I could still clearly see the struggle she felt. It was to feel a connection to someone who might understand her own grief and disbelief when such unexpected and horrible things happen and life does have to, eventually, go on again afterwards. That long and difficult transition back to normalcy, and, especially, learning how to trust in the world again. We both knew it well.
I admit it is still hard to not feel vulnerable once you have so deeply felt it but you can't stop living or waiting for the next tragedy. Life is full of heartache but it is also full of joy. I have always felt blessed for being an optimist. It is not in my nature to disbelieve in the good all around us. My hope is that I instilled some comfort, understanding, and trust in her that day and she left feeling more at peace than when she first approached me. Although, I admit it is easier for some, you must love yourself enough to channel through the pain and work it out of you. Frida painted. I blog. What do you do?

Image credit: Henry Ford Hospital, 1932 by Frida Kahlo

Thank you Mrs. McAuliffe (Re-posting for the 30th anniversary today)

Where were you January 28, 1986 at 11:39 am EST?
I was standing on the grass with the rest of my class staring at a streak in the sky and, not aware just yet, of the impact that image would have on me. That 'streak' was the Space Shuttle Challenger exploding before my eyes. This disaster claimed the lives of: Francis Scobee, Michael Smith, Judith Resnik, Ellison Onizuka, Ronald McNair, Gregory Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe, a teacher participating in the Teacher In Space Project. I admit I had to look up some of their names, but, it was important to have each and everyone of them here with me as I try to explain how that moment was my first sobering lesson in life.
Minutes earlier, my little catholic school in that sleepy little circus town off the Gulf of Mexico was alive. A perk of living in Florida is being able to, sometimes,view glimpses of the space shuttles launching from the Kennedy Space Center. We also followed this particular one closely since it involved a teacher whose purpose on this voyage was to literally teach us all about "The ultimate field trip" and to relay to us "Where we've been, Where we are going."
I was one of a bunch of giddy students lined up and ready to rush out the door when we got the signal from the principal over the intercom. We were finally allowed to pile out onto the front lawn and watch the space mission make it's mark in history. Our teachers fluttered around us to make sure we were paying attention and looking in the right direction so we didn't miss the moment. Then, it happened...The very visible streak shot up in the clear sky. We were elated that we were able to see it from that little patch of grass so many miles away. Our heads rattled around and the chatter started as the explosion occurred and the trail of smoke split off in different directions across the sky. Our principal,who had been monitoring the launch and the explosion from a TV in her office, awkwardly stepped out and approached the other faculty. Their moods changed and their expressions gave way to our imaginations. We were herded back into our classroom without an immediate explanation while the flaming debris was crashing into the Atlantic Ocean.
The silence broke and the news was released to us and we all sat slumped back in our chairs and I wondered.... Oh, how I wondered! How and why do things like that happen? Can you even imagine what it felt like to be from Christa McAuliffe's class and watching this happen on live T.V.? Did the crew even know something was wrong before it exploded? Unanswered questions just kept pouring into my brain as my thoughts ran deeper than they had ever done before.
Christa McAuliffe perished in the explosion along with everyone else on board. However, she, somehow, in spirit, still managed to teach me this final lesson:
I learned to dream big; I learned there were ordinary people who believed so much in our world that they often put themselves in extraordinary positions for the rest of us; I learned that there weren't always happy endings; I learned that sacrifice was a part of life; I learned recovery was necessary and we must fix things to still keep moving forward; I learned to never forget those moments and that they are to be used as stepping stones to mark who you are and help build the path to where you are going in life. Thank you Mrs. McAuliffe. You taught me more than you will ever know!
So, where were you January 28, 1986 at 11:39 am EST?


Note: Challenger image copied from the following website: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Shuttle_Challenger_disaster

Kudos To Ben and His Faith versus Reason: Feathers Part 2

Ask me "If you could meet anyone famous, past or present, who would it be?," and my answer would always be the same: Benjamin Franklin.
Yes, he was one of the Founding Fathers who drafted the Declaration of Independence and The Constitution of The United States. We all know his other bragging rights included his inventions and advancements in Science. Yep, he was also a diplomat, postmaster, politician, and an accomplished author....blah, blah, blah, and so on...All undeniable and incredible marks left behind by a life definitely not wasted.
However, my deep rooted curiosity and fascination with him goes way beyond the obvious or predictable. When I stuck my head out of the history books and dug a little deeper, I saw another captivating version of this man unfolding that I would have liked to have met:
The little boy with very little formal education who became an avid reader and writer.
An imaginative and witty sixteen year old that took on the pseudonym, Mrs. Silence Dogood, after his brother refused to publish his work. Then, he cleverly submitted his letters to his brother's newspaper which were published and delighted readers with his brother not realizing it was Ben behind the pen.
The self taught swimmer who built his own wooden flippers and swam often for many miles on the Thames River.
The innovative man who proposed a new alphabet to eliminate the letters C, J, Q, W, X and Y as redundant.
Then, I began to soak up his collection of proverbs and witty maxims such as “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise” and “He that lies down with dogs, shall rise up with fleas" he published in Poor Richard's Almanac. I appreciate his attention to thrift and courtesy, with a delightful dash of cynicism.
Each quirky find or odd story here and there just added to the way I have always been drawn to the manner in which he perfected his unique balance of facing life with such refreshing wit and extraordinary wisdom that only Benjamin Franklin could do so well.
Okay, get ready for the segue! Out of all his quotes, the one that has connected with me the most is "the way to see faith is to shut the eye of reason;" We live in a world based on fact or fiction, wrong or right, yes or no, black or white. What about the grey areas!?! I loved that such a successful scientist that based his discoveries on fact still gave as much emphasis and importance to his faith. So much so that he allowed them to live harmoniously together without question or judgement. Bravo Mr. Franklin! You and your willingness to see and promote both is something still many of us battle to do these days.
Nobody argues with fact or reason. If it can be proven, it must be true! We can and do easily accept and choose reason over faith. So, what about faith? Why is it so much harder to trust what we feel over what we can see. Faith has been referred to as a leap that one takes as if it is a more daring and almost impossible path to choose. It does not provide the same safety net that reason does but the end result is usually more special because it is felt so much more in the heart than in the mind. So, why do we hesitate to accept faith if it does bring us such a beautiful sense of comfort and joy?
Referring to my last entry about receiving the feather I asked for, I sadly admit I asked for it with my eye still slightly open. Reason crept in and compelled me to daringly ask for one more. This time more specific (and more difficult) than the first. A blue feather. Hence, my leap of faith. If this is true and real, send me only a blue feather. Why did I doubt the faith I asked for when it was given to me? Why did I allow reason to have a say in this at all? Forgive me Ben, but, I do not know.
As the hustle and bustle of the holidays crept in, I became so busy that I stopped pondering my choice to ask for more or if faith would shadow reason in this personal battle I created. Then, it surfaced and I found myself back to where I started when I had to, once again, choose between the two.
My son had to build a shoe box diorama and give an oral report about it in class. I was eager to hear about how his presentation went and he told me in the middle of talking, the weirdest thing happened..."A blue feather landed on me and I had to stop and knock it off." A BLUE FEATHER!?!
At first, I thought why would he get to see the feather and not me? Maybe the sender was afraid I had not totally shut the eye of reason again !?! Maybe it was intentionally given for him to see because I have thanked my loved ones for watching over him and they were validating their presence around him to me.
I asked my son how he thinks it got there and he said he thought another student might have had some blue feathers on her project and one must have blown away. Enter reason. Which path would I choose this time? Out of all feathers though, it was a blue one! Enter faith again.
I have chosen, this time, to put complete trust in something I can't explain and I will not be asking for anymore feathers. However, I will be open to seeing them or hearing about them, without question, if they choose to return. Thank you Ben, thank you feathers, thank you dearly departed for renewing my faith.

Hope is the thing with feathers...

I had read an article recently about a lady who had wished for her loved one in heaven to send her a sign she was still with her in the form of a feather. A week or so later, her feather unexpectedly crossed her path and she was overcome with emotion and accepted it as her loved one's presence.
Apparently, along with butterflies circling us, feathers have long been recognized as a sign of being in the presence of an angel at the moment they find us. A bittersweet and comforting reminder that on some other level, they are still with us and watching over us.
So, my question is this.....How much do we turn to hope, that optimistic feeling that gives us a healthier expectation of positive outcomes after events in our lives, rather than holding on to pain and negativity? You would think the answer should be a lot, but, it takes most people, like myself, a matter of time and many other emotions until we allow and accept hope as a better alternative than holding onto grief.
This past weekend marked the 2 year anniversary of my sister's death. I must admit after the initial and expected trauma my heart felt after her loss, I have held on to this lingering and painful anger as my strongest emotion in dealing with her passing.
So, after reading this article a couple of weeks ago and processing another person's perspective of death in which she was able to connect and comfort herself rather than detach and stay in perpetual hurt, I decided to take on this challenge as well.
I put down the magazine, cleared my mind of the potential silliness of it all, and I concentrated...."Michele, give me a feather. I could really use a feather from you. No, I need a feather from you. You see, I want hope and to feel hopeful again so I can release this anger and know that there is a place, a better place, where you have been and I will be."
Then, I waited. Not the 'I'm going to pretend I'm going about my day and stalk my surroundings looking for it' kind of waiting, but, the 'I put it out there and I am hopeful about this' kind of waiting.
The weeks passed and there was no feather which I was okay with. I had the right attitude about it and I had promised myself that it was to bring only hope and comfort not disappointment if it did or did not happen. So, I tucked the notion away into the back of my mind and went on with my life.
The day of her anniversary, we went to church, said prayers for her, and came home. I decided maybe it was a good day to take the Halloween decorations out and lose our thoughts in something else rather than focus on what today really was to us.
I pulled one of the biggest decorations out of the box and got ready to place it in the same place it had graced every year since we moved here, but, something inside of me said, "let's move it somewhere else! I think a change would be good!"
I walked over to the tree and I quickly decided right in front of it would be a great place. When I bent over to lay it on the spot I had chosen, a feather appeared into my sight. It was brown and white, speckled with perfectly round spots, and the ends were fluffy and gently glided in the air. I scooped it up and thought, "you have got be kidding me!" followed immediately by sweet and comforting thoughts that "it was truly the most beautiful feather I had ever seen."
I quickly tucked it behind the Halloween decoration and went back to helping the kids as I did not want to explain my reaction and I felt like I needed time to process what, if anything, had happened.
After we finished and I sent the kids back inside, I went to retrieve the feather so I could take a picture of it but it was gone. As unexpectedly as it was given to me, it had gone somewhere else.
However, I kept persistently searching around as I questioned my sanity, but, no feather to be found! Okay, so, this part wasn't in the article! Are you not allowed to keep angelic feathers!?!
I guess that is not the point. The point is, in that very moment of finding it, I changed my anger to hope. I allowed myself to feel all of the wonderful and glorious feelings that were wrapped in that feather and it made perfect sense to me that I was given it on her anniversary rather than the weeks prior to this day when I first asked for it. That hope is now perched in my soul leaving no room for anger anymore.
So, my wish for you, is not to ask for feathers, but you can if you want to. It is to try and allow hope if you are dealing with emotions or issues from negative events that you are struggling with. Open yourself to healing and help yourself to move forward ...."Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all."

From the Outside and the Inside

I sat on the ball field last night with a dear friend of mine. It was a nice surprise running into her. Then, it started feeling as less by chance and more as if it was meant to be.
Her son is battling Leukemia and mine is a head trauma survivor. From the outside, it looked as if we were just two baseball moms chatting as our boys practiced. From the inside, it was much much more. Two moms battling worries of germs and injuries, matching movements of snapping photos and cautious smiles as they batted and caught the balls. She told me about essential oils to help soothe side effects and I encouraged her that if her son could practice, he could play. Wisdom ,comfort, and encouragement. We give so much of that to our boys and it was so nice to be able to give it to each other.
I left with a sweet sense that both boys are right where they needed to be and a deepened awareness of how important it is to not let the battles they have faced define them. Then, we separated to scoop our boys up with praise and blend back in with the other parents.
No one looked at them as kids who have faced extraordinary circumstances or saw us as parents balancing normalcy with an underlying fear. To the outside, we were just two families joined to watch happy boys doing something they love. To the inside, a healthy and lovely dose of being with someone who gets it at the right moment.
So, was it chance, I ask you? I'm thinking not. Maybe your Bald Eagle flying over knew that too. ;>)

A Day To Remember

 "I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now." --Sophia Loren


Even though this past week had a lot of memorable moments; a transition to middle school, starting 3rd grade after being held back to repeat second, and a very happy 4 year old beginning his school adventure as he walked through the door on the very first day of preschool, it was another moment that swallowed me and froze me entirely as I watched it unfold. It was the first time my son had been able to play sports since the accident 13 months ago.
Many trips to the neurologist and rehabilitation doctors, many discussions (sometimes heated, always emotional) on whether or not he should be able to play again, countless hours researching head protection, battling faith versus reason, and padding him up the best way I could before he walked out on the field on Saturday to try out for baseball. Baseball, the only team sport we could all agree upon being the doctors, my son, and myself. The best helmet on the market, Kevlar inserts in his cap, and a strong will to try and move forward is what we had...and off he went. I'm sure most watching noticed he missed hitting every ball at home plate, he was slow running the bases, but he fielded pretty well. Okay, no Babe Ruth, but, let's face it, he is a late bloomer as other kids had a good 5-6 years of experience under their belt, and he has never played before so the more he does it, hopefully, the more comfortable and better he will get. However, NONE of that mattered. It was watching him step out on that field for the first time that will be forever embedded in my mind. The emotions only a mother could feel. The pride and the fear, the hope and the doubt, the holding on and letting go. I sat calmly but hid the battle going on inside me as I watched him. Now, I know it was the right thing to do. It broke the seal and let him feel normal and he made it through unscathed and eager to try again. I kept thinking though how you never know what battles people are facing around you.. Do you? No one besides us on the ball field that day knew the struggle and the sacrifice and the bravery and the dedication this kid has that got him to this moment and made this a day to remember. Not for the performance but for the courage. He doesn't block out the painful memories or hide from them. In turn, he has learned to respect them and even allowed them to help form the person he is now.
The one bravely standing at home plate.
The one with no experience but not afraid to try.
The one who didn't give up when he was told this was his only option.
The one who has not refused to wear bulky and hard plates inside his hat to protect himself.
The one who left feeling inspired and not discouraged.
The one who has taught us all to not let fear capture us and to believe that there are plenty of happy days ahead.

I couldn't be prouder of him and the step he has taken to move forward without compromising who he is and taking this 13 month break to listen, heal, and enhance himself into everything more wonderful he has become.
Life is not fair. It can turn tragic without warning, but, it does not have to scar you and your ability to move forward. There will be days, good days, to remember, and those moments will be so much sweeter. Sweeter than you ever believed was possible if you have the courage to allow yourself to feel it.