I walked in the door from work today and Owen was joyfully spinning circles in the living room with Shane. They had been joyously talking about the choicest super hero powers, which led them to a very serious discussion, centering around which super powers they would pick if they could choose six. The list is as follows:
Owen
1 The ability to fly at any velocity
2 Super strength with no minimum or maximum
3 Ability to teleport at will
4 Invisibility at will
5 Invincibility
6 Control over the elements

His superhero name is Elementis, his color is silver and his daemon is a harpy eagle.

Shane
1 The ability to fly at any velocity
2 Invincible in any atmospheric condition
3 Time travel at will
4 Super strength with no minimum or maximum
5 Ability to discern the truthfulness of anything
6 Super intelligence without suffering (no tortured genius)

His superhero name is Navi, his color is green and his daemon is the resident cat Eli.

If you could have six, what would they be.

On Thursday night, as I snuggled into my favorite spot in the front room with the book, Practicing the Presence, by Goldsmith, a loud bellow rang through the house, "HONEY! COME HERE!". "No!" I thought as I planted myself deeper in the pillows of the sofa. The call came again and again, with a rising panic and mirth. ARGH! The frequency of mama's quiet moments are pretty slim and being called into mother duty after 15 hours on call, isn't always welcome. I walked toward the family room and to my surprise, I caught the distinct waft of something unpleasant and saw Bodhi perched on the tiny toilet he has never used. He was perfectly proud of himself as he announced, "Mama, I poop in the living room!". Imagine that and I just thought I would read myself into relaxation.

winter

Winter, with her cold arms and grey dress, has long been a difficult season for me to embrace. The beach comber at my core, longs for sunny days and sandy shores with the obstinant blindness of a two-year old. This year, I have tried to soften in many ways, not the least of which is in my blighted judgments of life. In so doing I learned something important about myself: I don't despise winter, I simply don't like being cold. That is much simpler than actually dreading an entire season. So I have been taking baby steps in the hopes of falling in love with each moment a little at a time.
Today, on my hike I found a rainbow of color, subdued and inspiring, radiating from a landscape ripe with angles, contrasts and line juxtaposed with texture and raw beauty.
Here are a few sights along the way to mark the quiet symphony of winter:Sometimes I stand in awe, captivated, behind the looking lens of my camera, by the incomprehensible beauty in the details of the world we inhabit. In this image the juxtaposition of greys and browns made me think of all the colors of winter. And here are some that I found:
Reds
Oranges:Yellows:Greens:
(Can you believe I found this little haven, tucked away beneath brambles in a protected valley between two hills. I nearly cried with joy at the sight of so much green!! I immediately lay on my belly smelling the moist earth and imagining the fairies of my youth dancing in verdant splendor.)
Blues:Purples and blacks:And my trusty brown Maya who patiently waits while I ooooh and ahhhh over the majesty of it all.

Sorrow like a mountain

sits on my chest
Labored breath calling air
Longing

If you wish to know the truth,

Hold no opinions.
-Buddhist Wisdom

a breath

The Buddha once asked a student, "How long is a human life?"
The student replied, "It is so brief it seems but a day long."
He then asked another the same question, "What is the true length of a person's life?"
She answered thoughtfully, "It is the time taken to eat a single meal".
And so the Buddha asked a third student, "How long is life?"
"The time in a single breath", was the student's reply.
"Exactly so." said the Buddha, "You understand".

from Kindness; A Treasury of Buddhist Wisdom for Children and Parents

Owen and I have a standing date, each Sunday night, a mama-son evening, usually spent reading, drawing and/or sipping tea. Last night we nestled in bed and turned scribbles into art. Next, we turned our collaborative attention to poetry. I wrote the first line, Owen the second, I the third and so on, until we were finished. As a grand finale, we gave a dramatic reading to Shane in the backroom, who kindly paused the football games to attend our performance.
Here are the poems (when reading please imagine Owen, standing on the coffee table dramatically interpreting the poems, while mother reads):

Duh!
Light on winter window,
A bird mutated,
In glass, reflected.
The mutant cried,
caw, caw.
The mutant cried,
moo, baa, neigh.
Confused the bird sought sun.
"Well Duh!", said the moon
And the light went out.

Sleep
"Sleep", howled the wind.
"EEHEEHAHE, NEVER!",
Yelled the child, hiding tired eyes.
"BOW-WOW", cried the cat,
Between gulps of tuna chow.
Then the bed came to life,
Ate the child and swallowed the cat,
Burped and swallowed the wind.
And the night was still.

Professor Prattle Pink, aka Papa

Last night, Bodhi reached his melting point, a combination of exhaustion, cold and overall overload, he was a bundle of weeping inconsolability. As I tried to read him a bed time story, a rumble began down the hall. Soon Shane emerged in the doorway as Professor Prattle Pink, speaking in a thick English accent and bobbling toward us. Bodhi was transported from glum to giggles and a family frolic ensued, thanks to these cool giant pipe cleaners and the imagination of one very good Papa.

celebrate what's right with the world

That is my new mantra. It is accessible, it is transforming, it is revolutionary and it is real.
If you have 22 minutes at your disposal, give it to this clip from the great National Geographic photographer Dewitt Jones and it may become your mantra as well.

Celebrate what's right with the world - Dewitt Jones @ Yahoo! Video

new year's day

I have never been a new year's bell ringer, rather I generally ring in the new year quietly, with introspection and intentions (sounds perfectly pink doesn't it). My standing ritual is to write down on a sheet of paper the things/concepts/belief/crap for letting go and then I throw them on a fire and watch them turn to ash. Then I meditate on my intentions and dedications. That's it. This year we also added a good long howl at the full moon and some poetry games. The poetry game is played when each person writes one line of a poem and passes it to the next person, who writes another line and folds the paper so that only the most recent writing is visible, and passes it on again. When the poem writing is complete, the person who wrote the first line on the page, reads the poem and gives it a title. Shane and I played it together (with some arm twisting on my part)and here are the new year poems (granted they are not brilliant, but alot of fun):

Night and Day
Rising up from a nineteen year sleep,
Papa moon stretched feeling the cool, refreshing air.
Breathing in, he yawned deeply and asked, "Where's mama?"
With the realization that, like all good moms, she comes sure as the day.
He went about his business,
The work of night
Shining on both good and bad with indifference
Until the breaking of the dawn,
When time stands still balanced between night and day
and love springs eternal, always and forever...
Now.Horizons
The moon sat in silver sky
dreaming
of days past and friends near forgot
of love's lost and love reclaimed
dreams come and go
the here and now is eternal
so sleep my dear one or awake
no threat exists to taunt you
see through the night
and the day will come.
Birds fly.
Wings reflect moonlight in a starless sky
A fresh tomorrow.

moments along the path

Happy New Year's eve to everyone out there. I have a few inspirations for the year ahead, most of them revolve around seeing things, people and experiences differently. I have challenged myself to have a show...a show of my photos, work and even writings, in collaboration with Shane's art. I have challenged myself to let go of being different, of being more, of being better. I have challenged myself to just "let go" this year. Throwing away the subtle aggression of trying to sculpt myself into something acceptable and just find the beauty in what I am and perhaps to shut up and listen to the life in and around me. Yep, those are my intentions.

owen in the snow

Owen, Shane and Baba (aka Shane's pop, Ronaldo) drove all the way to Texas. These playful photos were captured along the way. I love to see the child in Owen seep out. In those passing moments his freedom and laughter are contagious, swelling my heart with joy and pride.

a very big old tree

We met this beautiful old tree at the Goose Island State Park near Fulton Beach. Below you can read the endearing quote taken from a plaque in the park.

Welcome to my home.
I am a live oak tree and I am very old. I have seen spring return more than a thousand times. I can remember hundreds of hurricanes, most I'd rather forget, but I withstood. There was a big fire once. I hate fire.
Around me are my offspring. We are an old-dune woodland community. We provide shelter and acorns for squirrels, jays, raccoons, bobwhite, deer, javelina and most other members of our community.
For most of my life I belonged only to myself. Now I belong to you, or so I'm told. Humpf! Branch breakers and root tramplers the lot of you.
Some years ago someone came and patched my cracks, trimmed my dead branches, killed my pests and healed my fungus rots. Was that you? I'm feeling much better, thank you.
I am tired now. You may leave me in peace when you are ready to go. Please leave my home as you found it. I have important things to do. The seasons are changing again and I must get ready.

our holiday trip to Rockport, TX

I have so many captured moments to share with you. I will try to edit, simplify and organize them in the hopes of sharing a bit of the sights along the way.

On the beach:On the water:
In the wind:At the docks:On the land:At the table:Inspiration along the way:

holiday update

Okay, just to put things in perspective...as soon as I wrote my preachy "simplify" post preceding this one, I became a frantic holiday mess, over run by the Christmas train and bleeding money with an ongoing pang of more. Jeez. So much for my enlightening commentary. This year I simply feel overwhelmed and overdone.
New mantra...
RELAX!

Creating meaningful family traditions

Here is an edited version of an article I wrote for a recent newsletter:

Every holiday season, whether those occurring in spring, summer, fall or the most boisterous season of all, winter, I am astounded by the buying power of a celebration. As my children were born I began to question the rush and bustle of our cultural traditions and ask, “How can I make each season meaningful and nourishing for myself and my family”. Most of our holiday celebrations revolve around the seasonal shifts of nature, because nature is something that a child can deeply connect with. In winter the nights are growing longer and the days are getting shorter. The deciduous trees stand bare, while the evergreens alone remind us of greener days to come. The beginning of winter coincides with our most widely celebrated holidays, whether Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or Solstice. If we are interested in making seasonal celebrations meaningful, personal and nourishing, we can employ an inquisitive lens to our existing holiday celebrations.

I did this a few years ago after a particularly manic holiday. My family celebrates both Hannukah and Christmas, often throwing in a dash of solstice here and there for good measure. A few years ago the frenzy of buying and wrapping, baking and stuffing led to a holiday that vomited gifts with a spasm of “more”. I was horrified. After opening presents for hours, I was spent. I watched my eldest son drunk with presents and asked myself, “Why?”. I realized that I didn’t have a reasonable answer. I spent the next year asking a lot of questions and I came up with a short list of goals that I hoped to achieve through family celebrations. The list included: peace, connection to nature and family, cultivating a sense of magic, etc.

Now, as I meet the winter holidays, I have several new holiday traditions that honor these goals, while incorporating some deeply nourishing family traditions. One important change revolves around my holiday mantra, “simplify”! Children don’t need chaos to experience the magic of the season, nor do we. In simplifying our seasonal celebrations I find peace, connection and a meaningful celebration with my family. In asking ourselves, “why” we do a particular thing or celebrate in a particular way, we begin to clarify our deeper intention and cultivate a seasonal celebration that is personal, meaningful and deeply nourishing for the whole family.

Happy Holidays!

some pictures from the road

Here are a few captured memories from my recent trip to Arizona with Owen.

The most bella Grande' Cia in all the world!!
Grandma Oni (aka my mama) and O in front of our favorite greasy spoon.Laughter at 98, I love this woman whose arms held me and now mine get to hold her.Happy Holidays!

growing up

'Tis the season and once again Owen has asked me, "Is Santa real", I answered with the same vague assurance that "Magic is real". This year it fell a little flatter than last, which fell flatter than the year previous. He is almost 10 years old and is asking a sincere question, hoping for an answer that he has already stopped believing true. Owen is growing up and although I have never been a proponent of holiday hype, the loss of Santa IS a rite of passage. I pondered Owen's question for a few days and realized that he was ready.
Tonight, while Bodhi napped, Shane and I sat with him and answered his question. We told him that the spirit of giving is real, the magic is real. Taking his hands, I invited Owen to join the circle of magic keepers. We lit a candle. We sat cross legged in a circle, Shane, Owen and I. We invited Owen to help keep magic alive. His eyes teared at the loss, rites of passage aren't easy.

As his Mom, I have witnessed Owen's arrival in the world, with his deep, penetrating eyes still swimming in a sea of infinite possibility. I watched him grow, crawl, walk, run, read, and cope with a divorce and it's accompanying sorrows. I watched him mature and each new thing has been a celebration and a loss. He is taking the early steps into manhood. My hope is that he will bring the beauty, the hope, the magic and the mystery of childhood with him. As Owen stood and left the circle I stared after him and was reminded that as we leave childhood our magic isn't lost, it just translates into hope and hope kindled will forever remind us of a world ripe with possibility and awe. A world that, as magic keepers, it is our task to remember.