Feeling the Season

Ok, once again, I stole -- err, borrowed -- a wee bit from Boho Girl (perhaps it would be better to say that she inspired me -- she does that a lot). She began her blog post today with the phrase, "Today I woke up really feeling the season." And suddenly, amidst a somewhat bad headache and millions of errands to do and cookies still to bake and work days left to get through, I realized with a smile that I was too. Really, truly, totally, fully feeling the Christmas spirit, cheer, joy, peace, happiness, vibe, christmasy-ness....

Something about this day has revved up my holiday engines and I'm excited about the week. Was it our family Christmas card that is finally finished (thanks to both friends DR & Kelly!) and one printing job away from being ready to send out? I can't wait to send this card out -- it so perfectly represents our year, and my hopes and dreams as a family...

Was it deciding last minute to buy gifts for the boy's daycare teachers and having my other friend Jen talk about having to return some ornaments whereupon I exclaimed, "Wait, this is perfect! I'll buy them from you!" -- saving us both an extra errand?

Was it joking with the police officers outside Macy's when I asked for directions? I got a wee bit confused and needed quick direction help -- they wanted to charge me $5 for the info. I stood my ground (all of us smiling) and pointed to the Salvation Army Kettle that I had just thrown a few bucks in and told them their "fee" was over there...

Was it the cold, crisp air? We got snow over the weekend, and it's cold out, but bundled up, it's not too cold, certainly not too cold to walk outside (instead of driving) for the lunch hour -- it's the first day of winter officially, and that feels just right for the holiday season today....

Was it making the obviously overworked post office clerk smile? I asked her how she was holding up, and she responded with a totally straight face, "Just another day in paradise." Which, of course, made us both look each other in the eye and totally crack up with real, genuine laughter...

Was it the guy at Chipotle who, in the midst of a seriously insane line of people, took the time to talk and joke and smile at EVERY person, wishing each and every customer (including me) with true exuberance and happiness in his voice (absolutely shining in his eyes), "You have a happy holiday!"...

Was it finding those very last two perfect gifts for two dear friends I wanted to thank? Walking by a certain store sparked an "OF COURSE!" The icing on the cake (the star on the tree?) is that these last two gifts came from a local merchant. Much as I love shopping online, it does my heart good to shop truly local...

Is it looking forward to the end of the day, when I can pick up Grif, make him dinner, play with him, watch him, laugh with him (and read to him -- he's crazy about reading these days) all before he goes to bed whereupon I will dive into rolling out the four cookie doughs in my fridge waiting to be baked?

Is it the phone call I'll get from Jim as this day closes, from a different city, probably in a different time zone, where I'll get to tell him all these magical, minute details that happened today?

I'm still not sure. It's all of these things. It's none of these things. It's something deep inside that I can feel is finally aware, awake, alive with the holidays. Which are about giving. And receiving. And being thankful. And being hopeful. And all about just feeling the season -- being here, in the present, to feel feel feel the season. Which, thank the universe, I am today.

I love the holidays. Really.

So why am I struggling through these days? Feeling anxious, somewhat let down, knowing that although I am not yet on the verge of tears, if I let myself really give in to the feeling I have in the pit of my stomach, I could start weeping at any second. Why this mental meltdown? I love the holidays -- I love shopping for just the right gift, something unique and different, something that really means something as opposed to just buying things so that the receiver can have something to open on Christmas day.

I'm not a spendthrift. So Christmas shopping -- hell, even grocery shopping around the holidays -- is not something I do with any shred of frugality. Everyone in my life is so easy to shop for -- ooh, Grif needs this. Perfect, Jim's going to love this! I love the rush, and yes, even the silly, sappy, over-played Christmas music. I love decorating the house just so -- and getting ready for the holiday baking now that the big-turkey-mandatory-clam-chowder day is over. I love it all. It makes me feel warm. Alive. Happy.

So what's different this year? I still feel all these things, but they are tinged (tainted?) by a hint of hysteria. Of panic. Of sadness. Was it my birthday? Yes, I am one year closer to a huge (in my mind) age landmark, but this year's celebration was amazing (maybe that's it -- I'm still hungover?). I've been having a hard time with my mother lately, a daily struggle with emotions and words, so easily misunderstood across the miles and over the phone. So is that it?

Is it that, again, there is still so much left undone that I'd really love to learn how to make time for? I know I have to pick my battles (time, always, more time!) with what I can really do with my free time -- since, at the heart, I want every extra minute to be spent playing with Griffin or taking advantage of stolen days with Jim.

I got teary watching Disney's Prep and Landing the other day -- first because Jim DVR'd it so we could watch it (I love him for doing that -- I didn't even ask. The best surprises are like that.), second because the message was such a fun, simple, modern reminder of what this whole season is really all about. And yet...

For the first time as a blogger, I have no grand resolution to these questions. No lesson to try and remind myself of. No epiphany that writing has helped me realize, embrace, know. No "punchline." No immediate feeling of peace. Inner, solid, fulfilling peace. Am I having a mid-holiday crisis? Perhaps. Perhaps. And so I'll end this one with a song instead of words (and even this was a struggle -- the deliberately sad Robert Downey Jr. River? Or something with just a bit more...something?). And hope that whyever this melancholy is, wherever this sadness comes from, it will soon pass me on by. So I can enjoy the holidays. Really.

Rest, sweet rest

The TV is off, the book is shut...the light is still on, but soon to be extinguished as everything else that has wound down on this lovely, full-mooned night. To rest. Repose, sleep. Freedom from activity or labor, a place for resting, peace of mind or spirit, quiescent, motionless, free from anxieties, a letting go...those of you following along will know exactly where I got this list.

Sigh. To rest. I crave sleep (always, as a mother with a wee boy and a husband who's a pilot)(although I think it's par for the course for any mother, the rest is just extra). I live for the weekends when I can revel in a two-hour nap in the afternoons -- stolen time while the boy sleeps as well. Quiet-time just for me, on the couch in the living room...sweet, sweet naps!

But there's something to be said for the preparing of the night -- the night coming on, the feeling of sleepiness, the quiet that covers everything not unlike the cozy blankets on one's bed. I like -- no, love -- the idea of tiptoeing around the house, trying not only to keep from disturbing the sleeping Griffin, but to also not disturb this film of quiet, the aura of impending motionlessness, the glaze of heavy eyes and soon-to-be sweet dreams. I've been thinking about this nighttime silence for some time now, but of course, have totally succumbed to it and the much-needed slumber before I could take a few minutes to write about it (revel in it)...

Sunsets rather than sunrises. Always for me. The closing of the day -- regardless of how much was accomplished or left undone, how good or bad, successes or failures -- has a magic all its own. Is it hope? A promise of things to come when the day dawns anew? A peacefulness that comes from knowing that regardless of its events, this day has had its time and is now nearly over, past and complete? Or is it just sweet release from the day's busyness, craziness, go-go-goingness? A bit of all of it, but most of all, a letting go. A real sense of peace, not just peacefulness. Dropping the shoulders. Fully gathering the yawn, cozying under the covers, and resting. At rest. Ah, rest.

Trying to be here

So, it was a rough weekend. And as is my habit (and one that I'm trying so very hard to break), for some reason I cannot let it go. I truly believe I have (unfortunately) inherited this from my mother -- this inability to just let it go, to just let things roll off my shoulders, to just forgive the hurt and the irritation and the anger (yes, anger), to not dwell on it or wallow in it or hang on to it. To. Just. Let. It. Go. My mother cannot do this either, and it's the one thing that I can recognize as having already become like her in....

One of my dear friends left me a message this morning, and at the time it made me feel so much better -- so thankful that the universe knew I needed a kind word, and that I got exactly that from her. Exactly. But the lightness was short-lived. And now I find myself struggling through the afternoon, dreading the evening, exhausted already (again). Dejected. Defeated. And so, I take a moment (this moment) to search for...something. Peace? Distraction? Answers?

After a halfhearted attempt to read some of my favorite writers' daily musings, I remembered something I had already read last week on the Painted Path....it resonated with me then, it resonates even more with me now. Julia writes:

this too shall pass,
be here now,
be patient,
accept what is,
find the gifts,
be gentle with yourself

Be here now. Accept what is. Find the gifts. So easy to say these words today. Not so easy to really believe them. And this makes me sad/frustrated/mad/annoyed that I cannot take all that I know and love and am thankful for and focus on that instead of this gloomy, dreadful sadness that has filled (that I have let fill) my whole day.

To be here...I'm closer to that, just by getting this out of my mind and setting it free to the world at large. Purged. Expelled. Be gone, sadness and regret and anger. I'm done with you all.

To accept what is...a little easier, since I know that certain things about this weekend, specifically the people involved, will never change. And really, that's ok.

To find the gifts...I only have to think of my loving, amazing husband, who saw this whole mess coming and was dreading it himself, but still comforted me and was patient with me and showed his overwhelming love to me at exactly the right times. More gifts from my sweet, sweet, laughing (walking) blue-eyed boy, and my amazing friends who gave (and always give) so much of themselves (with exactly the right words) when I'm down and defeated.

So today. Not yesterday. Not this morning. I'm here. I'm accepting. I'm finding the gifts. At the very least, I'm trying to be so very gentle with myself and forgive the fact that I've somehow wasted most of the day in gloom and anger and regret and sadness. I'm not that person. I will not be that person. This too, I shall make pass.

1989, W.E. Henley, Morgan Freeman and Me

As is my new habit when I use our lovely new Mac laptop, I am wont to pull up the Internet and (compelled beyond my control to) watch whatever cool new movie trailer comes up on the Apple/Safari site. I love doing this. Grif and I often do this together (although the Jake-turns-wolf thing from New Moon made him cry). But this is about the trailer I watched recently -- the one that almost blew me out of my chair...all the way back to 1989.

I used to keep a book of quotes. Rather, I keep it still, but I haven't entered an unforgettable, un-losable, all-consuming quote for quite some time (the last was February 2004). For the entire decade of my 20s, I was never without this book -- traveled with it, wrote in it constantly, kept it at my bedside table or in my backpack of the moment. It's a simple cloth-covered blank journal. Blue. Given to me by a friend I no longer keep in touch with (although the miracle of Facebook lets me sneak peeks at her profile picture). I don't recall what made me instantly bestow the "quote book" label on the blank book, but I distinctly remember wanting to mark the date when it was full -- feeling at the time that it would be only a matter of months before it was covered front to back, page after page with thoughts, quotes and poems (yes, some of my own, tragically) that moved me, inspired me, resonated with me, and ultimately shaped me into so much of the woman I am today. The first entries are dated November 25, 1989. Almost exactly 20 years ago. Strange coincidence? I don't believe in those...

I flip through it quickly now and am almost struck to tears at some of the entries -- great words from movies, poets, songs, artists. I have a feeling that many of these will surely show up in later blogs now that the quote book has been rescued from its dusty position on my neglected desk....

The book is nearly full, surprisingly. Not all the way -- no ending date yet recorded. Not surprisingly, some of the earliest entries are still my favorites, the ones given the careful attention to penmanship that supports their importance. Of these (still strikingly) there are two that live alone on one single page, embodying a unique position of particular importance duplicated no where else within. The two best. The ones most important to remember. To feel. Believe in. Live by. Recorded sometime in November of '89.

The first is part of Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (and the quote I nearly always leave within wedding or congratulations cards...a blog for another day)....the second is the finishing lines from Henley's Invictus:

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

The same poem's opening lines live on the page's exact opposite (among quotes from Dead Poet's Society of course), and if you don't know them, or the whole poem itself, it's worth a look.

Which (finally) brings me back to the movie trailer. The one that I watched, tears in my eyes, jaw dropped, completely moved by the story of the movie and the story of my own life that came charging so forcefully back with the trailer's opening recitation of one simple poem...this poem. My Henley poem. The Henley poem I could picture with perfectly clarity written in my old quote book. The one that was so very important/striking/moving/perfect to me all those years ago. All from a trailer of a movie that also carries its title...Invictus. I couldn't embed the video, but if you want, take a minute to watch it. I want to see this movie -- I think, now, I must.

This is a hard time in my life. I want so much, to do so much (as a wife, a mother, a woman) and I think I'm at the stage where it's easy to forget the girl I was in 1989 (and the years following) who was confident, invincible, unstoppable, passionate, romantic and ready to take on anything -- change the world (my world) armed only with a poem or that one perfectly inspiring quote. I played rugby too -- for four years. I was the captain of our team (another movie coincidence? You know what I'll say).

I'm always astonished when the universe listens to my prayers, my pleas. I think, now more than ever, I needed a reminder of that girl I was then. Of the writer I was, and wanted to be. A reminder of the way I thought nothing could stop me, or interfere in fulfilling any of my dreams. Of the way I looked at the world, of the things I was moved by, engaged in, driven by. A reminder of that little blue cloth-covered quote book where I poured so much of myself into and had utterly, completely forgotten about. A reminder so that I could bring part of that back to my life now and remember (know) that I have the strength and will to not only achieve happiness, but do so with grace and thanks and above all, hope.

I mean, come on -- a movie introduced (and surrounded) by THAT Henley poem? A movie about hope -- and accomplishment -- and change? With rugby? At this time in my life? Not coincidence at all. I'm listening, universe. Wide awake and listening -- and full of thanks for the reminder.

And so it begins...

After much procrastination, too much forced disinterest, followed closely by way too much effort (and time spent) on the template, the colors, the layout (don't even get me started on the title!), I have finally started something I should have done long, long ago.

What's the point, you may ask? I'm a writer. I'm a mom. I'm a wife. I have so much belief in our world, our universe, and so much passion about my place (and my journey) in (through) it. This is the place where I hope to comment, create, celebrate those things. And possibly -- just maybe -- encourage someone else out there in this great place to come along for the ride. My ride.

And so it begins -- simple, short, but a beginning nonetheless.