angelbirdflies

Someone recently asked me why I blog. It started me thinking. My knee-jerk reaction was that it affords me the opportunity to reflect on a piece of my life and share that reflection with those I love...but knee jerk reactions are seldom the whole picture. My next answer rumbled up from the well of suffering (and it's bedfellow, self pity), I blog because it is public and once you have had all your journals and private ramblings stolen in a custody battle and used against you in court, it is difficult to write again, particularly with any expectation of privacy...so I made my ramblings public. But, that certainly isn't the whole picture either. I suppose I blog for any number of simplistic and convoluted reasons, most of them leading to a simple truth: recording the day-to-day incidentals of a life seems more important to me than all the many things that often overshadow them. These precious moments, captured in word or picture, are the threads of a life, my life. A simp...

The Rocha's came for a visit today and Bodhi couldn't have been happier. He spent the whole afternoon laughing, dancing and getting wet with two of his favorite hang-around pals.

Bodhi and I got all dolled up for a friends wedding. All went according to plan, until we arrived, at which point I began chasing Bodhi around the wedding with mock composure and once the service began we ended up on the front lawn enjoying the blooming dandelions. I came home looking much less put together than I left, while Bodhi was just gaining steam. We ended up watching a movie on the couch (something he and I rarely do) and he unwillingly gave in to sleep at 9PM. We had a lovely visit with Wind and her beautiful family and had the good fortune to hear her sing a cappella with her women's choral group, The Singing Sister's. Bodhi was shocked and astounded by the shear volume of youngsters in attendance, but within moments he was gleefully running from person to person with a full spread grin and a welcoming, "HI". Taking a break. Finally, we enjoyed a light supper together and promptly fell asleep.

God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh. -Voltaire French author, humanist, rationalist, & satirist (1694 - 1778)

Bodhi and I are still toiling away on my weaving project, a shawl for my sister-friend Wind. He draws, I weave, he destroys, I repair, he grumbles, I attend... it seems a bit one sided at times but one weft thread at a time we weave our little time together. Bodhi quickly grew tired of my monopoly on the camera and with stealth-like speed he was firing off shots in all directions, until the inevitable happened..it dropped and mom confiscated it. But not before he was able to garner these photo gems.

Shane is gone for two weeks, throwing pots (whenever I say this I imagine him standing on black and white checkered tiles, in an Italian kitchen, throwing clay, like pizza dough, into the air and singing a bombastic Italian melody with gusto, don't ask me why). I miss him. It is interesting to have some time alone. I have to renegotiate my axis, re-navigate my life and find my North again. These early years of motherhood are so externally driven: I laugh and play, I cook and nurture, I change diapers and sing lullabies, I chase and cavort. I love it all, every minute of it. And yet,when something shifts in the busy landscape of all my doingness, it creates a sort of vacuum- an empty space. An empty space in such a full life, does not go unnoticed. I look at it from various angles. It calls to me, like the pull of a river, calling me back to center. I try to ignore it, while so many vying things try to fill up the space- art, sewing, reading, writing, this blog, thinking, ...

In a large bowl toss in: 2 c. flax seeds(soaked for 2-4 hoursin 4c. water) 1 c. sesame seeds (soked 2 hours) 1 c. pumpkin seeds, (soaked 6 hours) 1 c. almonds, (soaked overnight) 1 c. sunflower seeds (soaked overnight, rinsed and cleaned) 3 c. previously sprouted and dehydrated buckwheat groats 1. gluten-free rolled oats 1 c. dried grated coconut 1 c. agave syrup 1 T. vanilla 1 T. cinnamon 1/4 c. olive oil 1 t. sea salt Mix and place on teflex sheets. Dehydrate until dry and crunchy. Enjoy with tons of fruit and almond milk, or some Greek yogurt. Or it eat like Bodhi likes it, by the handfuls while running and shrieking down the hall.

Here are a few photos from our weekend: My beautiful sister and fellow photo-adventurer. Cleopatra lilies- WOW! I have no idea what this flower is called, but it is amazing. I felt like a stumbling buffoon standing in such close proximity to its graceful elegance. This tree is too beautiful for words. I stop and admire her sensual grace, every time I visit the Denver Botanical Gardens JOY! Mr. Breathtakingly happy, never met a stranger, wild-child, Bodhi Katz.

My sister-friend Michelle was here visiting me for a few marvelous, magical days spent immersed in chatter, laughter, excercise, good food and kinship. It always amazes me when I see photos of me taken by someone who loves me, they make me look, well, beautiful. I will post again soon with lots more pictures, once I find my ever elusive camera. Until then Il dolce far niente... In Italian, it means "the sweetness of doing nothing" and it has become my new favorite saying to live by.

"Out beyond all notions of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I will meet you there." -Rumi

Bodhi shows off his latest mama duds, these kickin' cool pants made from a recycled skirt, and a t-shirt waistband. He is so dialed in and footloose, I can't keep from smiling.

The world is far too beautiful to capture with lens or word, pen or paint. Yet, it is the highest of human strivings to harness a fleeting moment of eternity's dazzling brilliance. In that heroic pursuit, art is born. Nature has been singing a love song for a very long time - here are a few of the notes I caught as they were drifting by.

Summer sun and hours spent gazing at trees drenched in golden hues upon a verdant canvas. I listen to the hum of life growing and bustling beneath, above and around, mingled with the occasional tinkling of an ice-cream truck winding through the neighborhood- a pied piper of sticky sweets and piggy-banks. Summer is also a time in which I look with lazy acuity at the progress of my life and vow to do any number of marvelous and ridiculous things: I will publish a fabulous book and become a widely celebrated author... I will finish a dazzling array of paintings and host my first brilliant art show... I will travel the world in a gypsy caravan festooned with brightly colored tapestries... I will go to Peru and study local textile production... I will become an activist for world peace and environmental conservation... I will meditate twice daily and soon attain a nirvana state of unending peace, through which I will nourish humankind... I will become a fabulous runner... I will be a yog...

"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday." —Kahlil Gibran I spoke with my Papa this morning. The conversation went something like this. "Hello" "Hi Daddy" "Bird!" (Here I sang a very off key Happy Father's Day song in tribute to the days festivities) (soft chuckle in response) "What do you have planned for this special day Papa?" "I can't disclose anything at this time". Curious now and with the characteristic eg...

Check out these radical new dud's I whipped up while Bodhi snoozed away his afternoon nap hour. I got the idea for these T-Shirt Pants while I was exploring some of my favorite blogs. I took an old Shirt of mine- snip, snip... sew, sew and voila. FUN I threw the tank together out of sleeve remnants from the afore mentioned shirt.

Aaaaaaaah SUMMER Bodhi and I spent a magical day working in our garden, lounging on the grass and just plain goofing off. What a marvel to spend a summer wholly undisturbed by outside pressures. I sat watching the puffs of cottonwood drifting lazily on the breeze, while bodhi napped in my arms and I was overcome with a deep, bottom of the belly joy. Summer with my son, I am smiling at the thought of it.

I'd hate to walk a mile in those monsters.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam (Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe) asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanu Who has sanctified us with Her commandments and commanded us l'had'lik neir shel Shabbat. (Amein) to light the lights of Shabbat. (Amen) For supper we had a salad of mixed greens from our garden with a homemade tahini dressing, a free-range bison roast cooked in a beer broth, potatoes and homemade challah. I love baking bread, it is such a pity that I can't eat it. I really must learn to make a gluten free alternative. Happy Shabbat to y'all

"Getting Jiggy with it", these are the familiar utterances of my post-pubescent love as he stands astride his new long board twinkling with wide eyed glee. You've gotta love a guy who wants to play with restless abandon, even if he does require all the fashion accoutrement's to get started.

He's gone for the summer and I am left holding his big boy attitude and the expediently delivered, embarrassed, goodbye kiss, as I watch him walk down the jet way. My heart grapples with the familiar vice grip of grief as the last curl rounds the corner. I stand watching an empty hall, a blank wall, then nothing and I ask myself, "What are you waiting for". The realization dawns. Him. I am waiting for a dark haired three-year old to come skipping back into my arms. Before the causalities of divorce and the crocodile tick-tock of time. I have been waiting since the start of the capital D. Waiting. Certain that the next time I would have him back and "MOM" would roll off his tongue with adoration and abandon. Staring at the white wall of the airport, I know that he's gone and I need to have a good cry and let him go. This thing called motherhood is interesting. It carves so many deep places in a person, caverns of loving and aching. My boy is grow...