Clarification

Okay, my Ode to Autumn was obviously NOT referring to this weather, which, despite my love of fall and easy to please nature, depresses me! 

Ode to Autumn

Looking for blog ideas, my friend Luke Giroux suggested this:

“Maybe some of the joys, excitement, and anticipation of going back to school? Or changing of the seasons; life marches on.  I've always felt that the seasons, here in New England, force us to move on with life. No matter how much we lament the end of a hot summer, or how much we want to capture the essence of our kids or our lives at any given moment in time, mother nature will always inform us that there's a much higher power at work here, marshaling us through time and space.”

Fall being one of my favorite seasons (I have a few!), I thought this was a wonderful suggestion.  I still get a flutter of excitement in my stomach with that first breath of crisp air.  I LOVE buying new notebooks and pencils and backpacks.  Not just because it means my kids will be back at school - offering me much needed peace and quiet, but because it excites me!  My mother used to cover my textbooks in this thick, clear, rubbery plastic, and it had such a distinct smell.  A back to school smell.  Just like new pencil cases with those plastic sliders.  I loved brand new workbooks, never before opened - where I got to ‘break the spine’.  (Does it surprise you that I became a teacher?)  

Fall brought all new possibilities: new friends to be made, new adventures to be had, new experiences as someone one ‘year’ older.  A new locker, a new class schedule, new teachers.  And of course there were back to school clothes and brand new school shoes!  Aunt Genevieve would take me to Dayton’s Oval Room and buy me designer clothes off the sale rack (back when I wore a size 2).

  I love the cooler temperature, the crisp air, the earthy smell of wet leaves.  I used to seek out the brown, brittle leaves trying to find ones that made the loudest crunch (I still do!).  The sky looks bluer to me on a gorgeous October day.  It’s the beginning of apple picking, mulled cider and butternut squash soup.  Fires in the fireplace and cozy sweaters.  Football and tailgating (Yes, believe it or not, there was a time where I did this.  Regularly!).  Indian summer - that last little tease of warm weather; I can still hear my grandmother explaining it to me.  Raking leaves and diving in piles (not so fun for me anymore but my seven year old still loves it).  Halloween!  I remember trick or treating with my friend Lee in Brooklyn Heights, under the street lamps, kicking leaves as we walked, thinking ‘It doesn’t get any better than this!’  I still think that every year, as I walk my kids around our West Hartford neighborhood.  As corny as this makes me sound, every time I see one of those huge maple trees with golden-orangey yellow leaves, so brilliant it looks like its lit from within, I smile.  It brings me joy.  True, simple joy.

However, as Luke said, it’s also about Mother Nature herself.  There is an ushering-in of what’s next.  Time marches on, which sometimes is a relief.  Life and its cycles keep moving forward, and we follow suit.  As Eckhart Tolle discusses in “A New Earth”, there is a natural expansion and contraction to life, a rhythm.  Autumn to me, is like the grand finale of the fireworks shows.  The trees give this amazing display of color - the last hurrah before they wind down for winter.  The final breath of expansion before contracting.  Not only do I like the guidance that nature provides with this cycle, but I’m okay with contracting for part of the year.  (Maybe I’m part bear?)

I’m not always the eternal optimist, but I guess with seasons I am.  There is always something to look forward to, a change just around the corner.  The anticipation of that change is enough to keep me going!  By the time fall winds down, and the air is permanently chilly, then its time to watch for the quiet magic of that first snow fall.  For now though, I am going out to enjoy this gorgeous fall day!  

 

Good Grief

The older I get, the more I see that everyone has their own sad story.  Whether it be the death of a loved one, divorce, abuse, alcoholism, neglect, trauma…  Somewhere along the line, we have all experienced some form of grief.  For me it goes like this:  My father died of cancer when I was seven (he was 39).  And then my brother was killed in a car accident when he was 19 and I was 15.  I kind of think I’ve had my fair share of grief, and have therefore formed a few thoughts on the topic.  

Grief is like a big, thick, ugly scar.  It may be hidden from view due to the clothes you wear, but it’s still there.  You may have done lots of work on it - to reduce it’s size and severity, and that work may have improved it greatly, but it’s still there.  You may be so used to seeing it on your body that you hardly even notice it any more.  Until you do, and see that it’s still there.  You may have seen lots of other people’s scars, and felt a little better that you were not the only one carrying around this ugly mark.  But at the end of the day - it’s still there.

For the longest time I had been under the impression that grief was a totally private matter.  Not something I wanted to air out.  Not something I wanted to look at very often.  In fact, most of the time, it felt terrible to talk about it; it made other people uncomfortable and awkward, or it made one of us cry.  While it may have temporarily helped me to release a little of this emotion - in the end it went right back to its normal hiding place.  It was still there.

Lately, my feelings about my grief have been changing.  I think I am finally starting to accept it.  To say it’s okay to have this scar.  To air it out.  To allow it to move and change and breath.  It’s not that I want to dwell on past feelings.  In so many ways I have really worked on healing and moving through them.  I am discovering that this grief will be with me always.  I am consistently noticing with every new phase of my life, my grief does a little readjustment.  As if it needs to reconfigure itself to this new space.  Slowly I am getting used to the idea that it keeps popping up. Even when I think  I’m done with it, I’m not.  I never will be.

Just this year, I learned the best way to fight the build up of scar tissue is to really massage and manipulate that scar.  To touch it, handle it, deal with it.  And I don’t mean to gently and lovingly caress it - I mean to really apply pressure and break up that tissue underneath, before it solidifies into something permanent.  Isn’t that so appropriately metaphorical?

I recently went to a very sad and painful funeral. I felt like my scars were ripped wide open.  Again.  But I’m okay.  I’m still here - as is my scar.  

I just heard from a long lost friend of my brother’s - 27 years later.  She told me she named her son after my brother, because he was such a good friend to her.  I am definitely revisiting the grief.  But it’s okay.  This is part of the process.  

Every holiday when I am wishing that my dad were here, or my brother and his wife and kids (who he never had the chance to have) - I sit with my grief again.  Sometimes it’s easier to do than other times.  

My point is - it’s there.  So let’s  stop hiding it.  Let’s welcome it back, even if it’s not our own.  

Some people don’t like to cry.  I can understand that.  Sometimes when I cry - I have a hard time stopping.  Not that I am unhappy - on the contrary; I feel extremely happy, fortunate  and blessed.  I am thankful of my family, of my life, of my friends and loved ones.  Life is very good.  But as a friend of mine said, “Life is messy.  Messiness happens.”  I think it would help if we all allowed the messiness to have it’s place at the table, instead of hiding it in the back room.  Let’s welcome it.  Honor it, even.  It takes so much to survive grief.  We should be celebrating the fact that we have lived through it.  Rather than stuffing it away in a closet, let’s say, “Ah, there you are.  Come on, let’s eat!”  

It reminds me of the line from a Simon and Garfunkel song, “Hello darkness, my old friend.  I’ve come to talk with you again.”  Except that I don’t want to think of grief as dark anymore.  I want to think of it as light.  I want to think of grief as good.  

MENTORS

I used to view the word mentor with considerable weight.  For years I shied away from becoming a mentor because I felt it was a huge time commitment, as well as an hefty role to play.  My children are still young, my time is already stretched.  Besides, I wasn’t sure I had what it took to be a mentor.  I mean, a mentor should be someone who guides, assists - ushers a young mind into a new field, career or life path.    

Recently one of my friends said to me, “Thank you for being my mentor.”  My jaw dropped.  She must be joking!  I mean, I can talk your ear off on most days.  I’m very good at lecturing (ask anyone in my family!).  I certainly have opinions (again - ask anyone who knows me).  But mentor?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how wrong I had been.  Mentoring has no time requirement attached.  It does not even have to be related to careers or life paths.  When I looked it up in Merriam-Webster, I found:

Noun: “a trusted counselor or guide; tutor, coach”

Verb: “to teach or give advice or guidance to”

So I started to view it in a whole new light.  I considered all the people I turn to when I have a question.  There are the friends I call when I need to discuss parenting, or those whom I call regarding writing.  There is of course, my mom, who I call with almost any question.  A mentor can be anyone who offers kernels of wisdom, guidance, advice, help; no matter how large or small.  Trust is an important component.  Mentors allow you to expose your weaker side, your vulnerability, and they believe in your ability to grow.  If you are open to learning new things, you can find mentors all around you.  Like an extensive support staff, except of course they are not your staff - just your support.  What a wonderful way to look at the world - as full of mentors.  

I could create a mentor directory (for myself of course, sorry - you’ll have to do your own!)  Next time I’m feeling kind of lost, I‘ll simply call one of my mentors!  I considered printing my mentor list for you, but that would be an awfully long blog post!  Instead,  here are my mentor categories:

Marriage, Parenting, Home, Intuition, Friendship, Fun, Fitness, Consideration and Caring, Survival, Relationships, Gift Giving, Creativity (and the Creative Process), Writing, Children’s Literature, Teaching, General Bitching and Moaning (mine, not theirs!), Decorating, Healing, Nutritional Health, Spiritual Path, Inspiration...

There are more for sure, but you get the picture.  I really like this quote by Bob Proctor, an author and speaker:  

"A mentor is someone who sees more talent and ability within you, than you see in yourself, and helps bring it out of you."

Think about who you call when you have a question.  Who are your mentors?   Who do you trust with your vulnerability?  And who trusts you to learn from the process?  Call them!

Stuck...

I  have been really stuck this summer with what to write about.  I’d like this blog to be about celebrating life’s little moments, but sometimes that is hard to do.  Our summer started with a tragedy; a 10 year old classmate of my daughter drown in a tubing accident.  It shook every person in our town to his/her core.  He was a beautiful little boy, so full of life and love.  His family has been handling his death with such amazing grace and fortitude.  It is heartbreaking to think about, to see, to imagine.  It is every parent's worst nightmare, and it fills me with such sadness.  So how can I write about celebrating life, when I know there are so many people out there struggling to just make it through the day? 

I came across this email (one of the sappy ones that I saved), titled “45 Life Lessons” by Regina Brett.  I’m copying it below because it helps me bridge that place of sadness to a place of hope.  Some of her life lessons are practical, some are spiritual and some are philosophical.  Overall, they just seem true.  I hope you find at least a couple that strike a cord of truth for you.  And please forgive me for the cut and paste...

Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio .

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.  It is the most requested column I've ever written.  My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1.   Life isn't fair but it's still good.

2.   When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3.   Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4.   Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5.   Pay off your credit cards every month.

6.   You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7.   Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8.   It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9.   Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come...

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44. Yield.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

Cheesy Emails I Love

We’ve all gotten those cheesy forwarded emails from our dear Aunt Suzie or that random high school friend.  You know the ones -  that contain sappy messages about parenthood or God or love or husbands.  We roll our eyes, and read it lest we are quizzed on it later (“Did you get that wonderful email I forwarded to you about the cute baby animals and motherhood?”)  And then we delete it - despite the risk of bad luck falling upon us.  

Its not that I disagree with the idea of savoring each moment or laughing at the picture of the overweight woman with the cigarette hanging out of her mouth clutching her toddler by his feet - upside down.  Its just that, haven’t we seen enough of them already?  Aren’t you dying to tell dear Aunt Suzie, who has too much time on her hands, to please stop sending you this junk?  Or maybe the threats of bad luck if you don’t forward it, bother you so much that you refuse to play a part in it?  

On the whole I am proud to say that I almost never forward those emails.  I can’t say never-never because I’m ashamed to admit that I too have fallen prey to the promises of overwhelming love (and money) which will come my in the next four days if I simply send it to eight people I love.  “Oh why not?” I hear myself saying!  

But wait, there's more: I must confess that once or twice a year, there is that cheesy forwarded email with a quote or a list of life lessons that I just love.  I can’t help it, but I love it.  And then I become like annoying Aunt Suzie and I send it to AT LEAST eight people.  All the people who I think may like the quote or list as much me.  Or to all those whom I think need to hear that quote or read that list!  Although they haven’t seemed to figure life out on their own, this list may be the thing that saves them!  Despite how cheesy these emails are - sometimes they do strike a chord of truth or meaning.

This morning, I stumbled across this one (yes, I actually saved it on my computer!) and thought ‘Ah, this is exactly what I need to read today - exactly what I need to remember today.’  Truthfully, I need to remember it everyday, but it just so happens to be today.  So here's to those cheesy emails we love (you love them too - don't you???) and to the corny people who send them to us!

"Today may there be peace within. 

May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. 

May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

May you be content with yourself just the way you are. 

Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.  It is there for each and every one of us."

PS - I do not know who this quote is attributed to.  If you do, please let me know!

Doling out "Gold Stars"

I subscribe to the Teaching Authors blog, which as a children's writer, I love.  They always have interesting insights and great writing exercises.  Today's post was titled "Gold Stars" by Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford.  
 Teaching Authors--6 Children's Authors Who Also Teach Writing: Gold Stars 


Gold Stars focuses on summer reading programs for children, and specifically about whether we should reward children for reading when we are attempting to get them to love reading for its own sake.  On the other hand, Jeanne Marie points out - who doesn't love to get recognized for their hard work?  Adults work for the reward of their pay checks!  


My feelings are this: why not offer rewards?  We all like a pat on the back.  Kids especially love to know with physical, tangible proof that they are doing a good job.  What's the worst case scenario?  That they only read in order to receive a reward - and there after don't?  Well,  these kids most likely would never read a thing if they didn't have to - so now, at least they've been exposed to the world of literature.  Maybe, just maybe they will learn to like it.  If not, nothing lost - they still spent the summer reading.  


More importantly, life is short!  Let's look for reasons to celebrate, to have fun, to give out special treats.  Kids are only kids for a short time.  Dole out those stickers, those ice cream cones, those award certificates!  If there is an opportunity to make children feel special - take it!  While it may not be the most significant award of their little lives, it still may bring  smiles to their faces.  And what could be more important than that?


Don't get me wrong.  I'm not the sort of parent who rewards her kids for making their bed or setting the table.  My kids do LOTS of chores, with no reward.  They are part of our family and they need to contribute.  Period.  But summer reading falls into a different category.  Along with a beautiful report card.  There are so many expectations on our children.  When they go that extra mile, work really hard for a duration of time, do more than is expected of them, I say "Let's celebrate!"  I don't hand out money for every A, but I do say "You get to pick the restaurant, we're going out for a special meal because you did such a great job!" 


It makes me think of the book, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  Rubin devotes a year to finding little ways to become happier.  One of her conclusions is that making other people happy, makes one happier.  Some of her goals are to smile more, to be generous, "to be a treasure house of happy memories" (I love that one!).  My fondness for this book stems from these completely simple, every day strategies, which lead to becoming more mindful of one's own happiness.


So if handing out gold stars for every book a child reads makes that child feel good - if it makes her smile, if it adds to her happiness for even just a moment - then we've done our job!  In the end, it will make all of us happier!