Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Wednesday Wish (131); Say I Love You

photo via googleimages

He found me on the playground just after I brought my daughter to school, a respectable looking man, tall, well dressed, wearing glasses and a nicely pressed shirt. And as he pushed his baby in a stroller with another toddler in his arms, I saw his mind begin to reel behind his eyes.

“Hello! I just wanted to let you know that we are working on a few things with our son and one of those things is trying to help him to not say he loves people so easily. I told him that love is a powerful word and that we don’t say it to people we don’t know very well. I mean, even though we really like your daughter and are happy he is friends with her, we don’t think it is appropriate that he tells her he loves her. He can say he likes her, even that he likes her a lot, but we don’t want him saying he loves her anymore.”

At this point I think I mumbled a few filler words like ‘ok’ or ‘wow’, which only led him to think he needed to further explain himself.

“For example, just the other day we were at a park and our son had a connection with a little girl there so he invited her to come to his house, telling her his address so she could find him easier. And then, when we were leaving, he told her he loved her and wanted to give her a hug but her father said no, maybe next time. You see, they just met. The father was uncomfortable with my son saying he loved her and wanting to hug her, because well, it was rushing things. It wasn’t appropriate.”

I could hold my tongue no longer.

“You know, I used to think it wasn’t ok for my daughter to tell strangers that she loved them. But then I realized, who was I to tell her what she was feeling? Maybe she was teaching me. Maybe we adults have it all wrong. Maybe we do need to love right away. Maybe we do need to hug more. Maybe we, as parents, need to learn from our children.”

He started to share something else, to defend his decision when the bell rang. I started for the gate.

“Not to worry,” I sang over my shoulder. “I hear you. And I will tell my daughter what you are teaching your son.” 

But inside, I was trembling, my heart a jumbled mess, my mind using every bit of its strength to hold it together.

*          *          *

Why don’t we love more? Why don’t we hug more? Why do we give rules to not only our own hearts but to the hearts of those around us, too? Are we too steeped in fear, afraid that loving will someday end up being the root of our undoing? Does the vulnerability of our children, their open hearts and rawness of being, conflict with everything we thought we knew to be true?

What if we have it all wrong? What if the lack of love is the root of all that is wrong with this world? And what if more love, love immediately and for all, is the only thing that will ever save us?

What then?

The way I see it, we have two choices. To be a part of the solution. Or to be a part of the problem. If you’re around me, either way, you’re getting hugged. And you know something else? I love you. So there.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Wednesday Wish (130); Break the Dam

photo via googleimages by
You’re going over to their house for dinner. Yep, right now. It’s not far. No, they’re just a short walk away. So you slip on your uncomfortable, stylish shoes and a sweater that goes with your outfit even though it makes you itch, and out you go. But you forget the wine so you go back inside. It’s on the counter. Red. Your favorite. You smile. It’s going to be a nice night. You can feel it.

They greet you at the door. She wears a lovely perfume and he immediately offers you a drink. You really want wine but you say water is fine. You probably don’t need the alcohol anyway. And besides, it was meant as a gift. The wine. That you brought. Your favorite. You try to be proud of your self-control. But it’s only temporary. Because just after you sip your water, you start to ache for the wine. You swear to yourself, but smile kindly to each and every guest you meet trying not to scratch your itchy arms like a lunatic. Or to walk funny since now your feet hurt because of your uncomfortable, ridiculously stylish shoes. Yes, you smile like a good person. Like the good person you suddenly feel like you are pretending to be. When all you really want is wine. And slippers. Well, and maybe a few other nice feelings.

Then comes the food. And good lord, it practically begs you to chew it with your eyes closed, to make sounds like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. But of course, you don’t. You do everything you can to eat with small respectable bites and to listen politely to conversation that bores you to no end. Then your neighbor decides to start telling you what’s wrong with the country, yes, your country, except he guesses your political perspectives completely wrong so you’re constantly having to hold your tongue, the tongue that is dying to take in every last bit of the deliciously sensuous food. If you had it in you, you might just scream!

When suddenly, it dawns on you. You’re hit with a blast of fresh thought. You’ve been doing it all wrong! It’s not about self-control! It’s not about being what you think you should be or doing what you think you should do. It’s about being Real!

So you push your chair back (but not before leaving your horrid shoes behind) and you walk over to the sideboard with the fancy silver candlesticks and the tea set that looks like it came over on the Mayflower and you pour yourself some wine. And then, after you swallow a big fat swig, you set the glass down politely, you turn to look back at the table, and you scream! You really do! You belt out a big heartfelt scream. And then, after you’re done, do you know what you say?

“I’ve had it! I’ve had it with pretending. I’ve had it with doing what I should do and being something that I’m not. And I’ve had it with pretending that its ok for you all to pretend right along with me, too. Because it’s not. It’s a lie to be something other than who we are. And do you know who I am right now? I am a happy soul enjoying a glass of wine with good people and I’m going to sit down and enjoy the rest of my gorgeous food with my eyes closed and probably swaying to some wonderful music playing in my head because that is the only way to fully taste all the incredible flavors. And if anyone talks to me about anything other than love I’m going to smack them with a kiss right in the middle of their face. And by the way, when I’m done twirling would anyone like my sweater? It was very expensive but I hate it.”

And as you twirl, your face is all smile, your eyes all sparkle, your body a wild, life-intoxicated happy …

As your host and hostess stare
And the rest of the table is dead silent.

But then,
Like a brewing storm cloud,
They all burst into laughter.
And they don’t stop … letting it spread … to every creak and crevice in the entire home.

“Anyone for dessert?” the hostess sings out across the laughter, throwing off her own shoes. “It’s the kind you can only eat with your eyes closed, too!”
And every single hand rises up with “Me! Me! Me!”
“Forget the waistband!” says one.
“Dive in!” says another.
“Can we eat and twirl?” says a third.
“Wanna talk about the politics of love?” says your neighbor to you.
And you laugh and laugh and laugh … no words even close to fitting.

Yep, you broke the dam. And wow, does it ever feel good.

*          *          *

Every day we are expected. Expected to act, to be, to do certain things. And every day we make a choice. To be who we think we should be, or to be who we want to be, yes, who we are.

And who you are can be traced back to how you feel.

When was the last time you really honored how you felt?
When was the last time you were really your Self?
When was the last time you Broke the Dam?
Your dam.
The one inside, holding back all your You.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Wednesday Wish (129); What Would Soul Do?

photo by shivani cotter via google images

The air is heavy with darkness but you know you need to get up soon. There’s so much to do. You already have a handful of things to add to your list, things you remembered last night before you fell asleep, things you promised yourself you wouldn’t forget and would write down as soon as you woke. And yes, you tell your children, a promise is a promise, no matter who you are. So even though your eyes ache from lack of sleep and your alarm won’t go off for at least another hour, you force your feet to the ground. You walk blindly to your desk. You rummage through your things to find a pad of paper and a pen. And you scribble down every last thing. It’s going to be a hell-of-a day.

Your mind races
With early morning adrenaline.
With do … do … do …
Your day already drowning in a cauldron of cerebral madness.

When suddenly, 
A thought meteor hits
And you ask yourself
A single question.

What would soul do?

And everything 
From Doing
To Being.

You climb back in bed and try it all over again ...

The air is heavy with darkness so you close your eyes to feel the mystery of the silence. There’s so much to feel, so much more than you usually notice. Your mind attempts to grab the reins, to decipher the reasons and the why’s and the have-to’s and the don’t-do’s, but before it succeeds you gently escort the clever devil to the basement and get back to where your heart begs you to be. Or is it your soul? You feel your fingers. They are plump and alive and gosh, they even seem to care. You let them twiddle at your side and pretty soon you are playing a symphony on your thigh. And as you play, your imagination explores the air. You pretend. You giggle. You remember the magic of wonder. The feeling of delight. The gift of Being. Alone. In silence. And a smile emerges from your belly right up to your face. It’s going to be a beautiful day.

*          *          *

In the quiet moments of your day, where do you dwell? When you are all alone, a witness to only yourself, is it your mind that holds the reins? Or do you dare to let your soul speak, to let your heart speak, to give your deeper Self a voice? For the quiet moments, they are the sacred. And those sacred moments mold you like a soft, damp lump of clay into what you decide you will be. Why wouldn’t you then, form yourSelf into a magnificent sculpture, reflecting all the beauty that you are within? Why wouldn’t you then, decide to be who you came to this earth to become? Why wouldn’t you then choose to live a life filled with soul? For soul is the only place where truly happy lives are formed. And being alone, in silence, is where it all begins.