Where have I been all this time?  Well one week has past since the boys and I moved into the new house.  We will be house sitting here until mid-june.  It is a positively lovely three story home AND of course, the move and events leading up to it, consumed much of my emotional energy.   We are settling in and getting used to our new surroundings. The best part of the new location is the backyard.  It literally backs up to my favorite hiking spot near denver, Green Mountain.  It has long been my sanctuary (as this blog will attest with its many photographic tributes over the years).  Owen is pictured above, overlooking Denver just a hundred yards from the house.

 And this IS the back yard.

 It is a great place to heal for a while and mend an aching heart.  The boys are slowly making room in their worlds for this change.  It is hard on them. Bodhi is chewing again and longing for the lost comfort of the pacifier of years gone by, while Owen cries often.
Speaking of healing...here is a photo of how we spent our Sunday morning.  Bodhi cut his head badly playing with Owen and his uncle Dave, so 2 hours in Urgent Care and 3 staples later we are home again enjoying a couple of playdates (a friend for Bodhi and one for Owen) and some family time on the horizon, with just my own two.

If you are reading this and want to pause for awhile to extend some love in our direction, I am sure it will be felt and appreciated.  I am sending it to all of you as I write.

had to share this from a new application

I enjoyed this reminder, maybe you will too:

Many people don't realize until they are on their deathbed and everything external falls away that no thing ever had anything to do with who they are. In the proximity of death, the whole concept of ownership stands revealed as ultimately meaningless. In the last moments of their life, they then also realize that while they were looking throughout their lives for a more complete sense of self, what they were really looking for, their Being, had actually always already been there, but had been largely obscured by their identification with things, which ultimately means identification with their mind. "Blessed are the poor in spirit," Jesus said, "for theirs will be the kingdom of heaven. ''What does "poor in spirit" mean? No inner baggage, no identifications. Not with things, nor with any mental concepts that have a sense of self in them. And what is the "kingdom of heaven"? The simple but profound joy of Being that is there when you let go of identifications and so become "poor in spirit."                                                      ~ From: A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle

In-lighter-ment

For much of my life I have longed for some conceptual utopia of spirit, out of reach and made unattainable by my constant seeking, which some have called  enlightenment, the big "E".  Pondering this, I found myself rebelling against the futility of reaching toward something outside the immediacy of this moment.  In the spirit of revolt, I decided to embrace the notion of in-lighter-ment instead.  


Enlightenment (as a loaded term and not the experience it points to), seems to signify a destination and a "getting there".  It is akin to winning the ultimate spiritual lottery.  In keeping with this analogy, I have never felt confident that I was going to win the powerball,  it being wholly outside the sphere of my own effort, not to mention the glaring problem that I don't buy a ticket.  Enlightenment seemed to separate the spiritual populace into the "haves" and "have-nots".  


So I coined a new term, limited, as all terms are, by the conceptual implications of the language that houses them, but it is the best I have in the moment. "Inlighterment", the big "I"... "lighter" merely points to "a bit brighter" and so "inlighterment" is a state of "lighter" instead of "lightened", brighter instead of brightened.  It's a process instead of a destination.  Its like a savings plan rather than a crap shoot.  I can attain "a bit brighter" right now.  I can shine a bit more, perhaps microscopically, day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath.  And if I black hole into humanness, so what? I can choose again and again.  I can breathe.  I can listen deeply.  I can be and in being, choose to let go of a little more fear than yesterday and shine a bit lighter, one choice at a time.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness

May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering

May all beings never be parted from freedom's true joy

May all beings dwell in equanimity free from attachment and aversion.

May all beings experience in-lighter-ment.

my boys

 Here they are: thing one and thing two.

Thing one: Owen is busy growing and looking cool, going to school, pushing against mom and learning how to be the man he will become, in his own Owen-like way. He is such a deep swimming boy.  He often startles me with his insight and clarity.

Thing two: Bodhi is midway through his last year at Children's Garden Montessori School, where I teach.  I have grown accustomed to having him with me every day.  I have watched him grow and learn and develop in a way that many working mamas simply can't do.  I am grateful for this gift daily and the gift of being mother to two amazing and breathtaking boys.

art

 I have finally submitted a few of my pieces to a very small art show in Denver at a center for women called Pomegranate Place.  Here are four of them.  I submitted eight.  The paper pieces are heavily worked, mixed media measuring 24-36.

 The mixed media encaustics are 36 x 36

 and 24 x 24.

I have to put a price on them.  Which isn't easy for me, since all are born and kin to my heart.  I rarely exhibit my work, choosing instead to cherish and hide them like so many precious aspects of my soul too vulnerable to risk censure.  I choose instead to shine and step out from the shadows of hiding  and express my belief in the inherent beauty of creating.

 My brother is back and his lady love, Pilar, too.  It is great visiting with family particularly basking in their familiar insanity.

 I think this is "hear no evil, see no evil, but I can't be sure.

Bodhi is five

 We had a big snow recently and Bodhi wanted to go outside. I told him to get his snow stuff on and frolic at will.  This is what happened...It is below freezing at 8 in the morning...how's that for charting your own course.

Here he is begging for something.

 and just look at that angelic face!

 Here he is globe trotting during his Montessori birthday celebration

 and rapturous at the sight of another great gift.

 We spent a great day after Christmas, celebrating Bodhi's birth with a birthday party at the Museum of Nature and Science and

whenever boredom sets in with the short days and cold weather Bodhi livens things up.  Here he is streaking in the neighboring yard at forty degrees.
Gotta love this kid!!!

Coraggio

When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment.  It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float.  It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within.  It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains.  Eyes closed.  Eyes opened.  A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being.  It takes courage.

When the Bodhidharma was asked to describe enlightenment, he said simply,
"Space everywhere, nothing holy".

"The sage points at the moon.  The idiot see's only the finger."
---Eastern Saying

Gratitude Day.  Harvest Celebrations.  Thanksgiving.
Let's eat our gratitude.  May that be our food.  Eat our thankfulness, chew it, swallow and eat some more until we are bursting with blessings, belching joy from a belly round with laughter.

How cute is this for a perfect fall photo op.  These frisky fellows were enjoying a jack-o-lantern feast on our patio, while the boys enjoyed pumpkin pie at the kitchen table.   It is always fun to see something planted and full of hope in the spring become a meal for family and furry friends in the fall.
Happy autumn to each of you!

I don't kill spiders.  It's not from a strict adherence to non-violence.  I kill mosquitos and the occasional gnat or centipede, I eat fish and other fleshy creatures (though it is rare and sadly with a burden of guilt, which is a gustatory downer).  I just don't kill spiders.  I talk to them.  If they are dangerous, they go outside, otherwise we live side by side in companionable tolerance.  They walk across the floor, the tub, the counter, leisurely and with an air of belonging.  Today I saw one scurry, eight legs literally racing across the kitchen rug over the cool spanish tiles, speeding toward a dark space beneath Bodhi's wooden step stool.  It was such a strange occurrence after years of spiders creeping from place to place.  This spider looked scared, though no doubt I am anthropomorphosizing. I stood for some time wondering how often I feel like that spider looked, imagining the world I inhabit dangerous, frightening and ominous.  How often do I hurry pell mell from one protected corner to the next, all the while inhabiting a benevolent universe, without a giant, fearful foot eager to squash me.  What would it be like to cease hurry, breathe and just inhabit.  There is a web unique to me, each thread new.  I carry my home and purpose with me, where ever I go.  We all do.

grande

My life feels grey, heavy, frightening...like there is a storm just about to break, a smell of ozone, impending darkness and I am uncertain of shelter.  I find myself on the point of tears often.  I don't know if it is because my Grandmother is gone or because the sharp reality of mortal existence has finally dawned on me.  Tears roll, salty, down cheeks, blurring my vision and the world I see.  Suddenly my willingness to accept the monotony of half living, silent suffering mediocrity and deeply buried truths, seems harder to bear.  I, like a sodden dog heavily water logged with doubt, fear, thought and belief, want only the freeing sensation of a good shake- sending rivulets in all directions, until I am light again.
I miss her.  My grandma.  I miss the world she represents- warm naps in kind arms, dinners lovingly prepared without thought for what is "healthy", laughter, childhood and an unconditional love that beams from behind spectacles inches thick and bordered by grime and plastic.
I don't feel prepared for this world we live in.  I never really have.  I just keep moving forward one step at a time, with an eye on the horizon, watching for signs of rain.