(off)spring

that’s me, my mama and the scarletsparks. all the female offspring on my side of the family twig. and what better time for grandma to come visit from the golden state than near the vernal equinox. every daughter deserves a hug from their mama to begin a new season.

and while mama and i are more like sisters when we’re in each other’s presence- note: having a daughter while you are still very much a child yourself will yield two girls literally growing up together. for this i am grateful and wouldn’t change a thing.

so while she was here for three days, we engaged our sisterhood. shopping for anything that has chickens on it (don’t ask me where our obsession with chickens started, it’s just always been there), smoking way too much, drinking coffee from 8-4 then switching to her favorite barleypop. all the while making up for the two state distance and four month gap that has kept us apart.

i miss you mama.

rain

it is not by circumstance that it rained the other night. in each drop was not only the promise of a new season, but reminders of how memories nudge our blooming/becoming. each tip, tap, tip, tap urges us to reawaken from our winter slumbers and to sprout anew, to an internal landscape harvested from the past.

rain has always simultaneously felt both melancholy and renewing to me and I guess this weekend's drops were no different.

winter quarter grading is done. dropping numerous less than desirable final grades on master’s students is painful. especially given that i will see them again for round two of this class. it’s one thing to give grades to students, knowing that you may never see them again, it’s another, when you’re going to face them in seven days; makes for an interesting first day back. thank goddess for kaladi and it singlehandedly caffeinating courage next week.

also along the lines of academe, my first double blind peer reviewed paper got accepted for presentation at a conference that i highly regard this week. and although my true mo behind doing it was for the free trip to chicago, it will officially mark my formal entrance into stuffy suits, too tight heels and uncontrollable academic preening/posturing....the ivory tower awaits.

imagination

sometimes it takes seeing through the eyes of a child to bring a little imagination back to an adult’s tainted and/or callused perception of the world.

so when the leprechaun came to visit on saturday, leaving his/her footprints on our woodfloors-spreading irish cheer (albeit hats, bubbles, beads and chocolates), the wide-eyed early morning discovery of this intruder’s belongings in the eyes of the little scarletsparks was nothing short of exhilarating to me. to be able to stand in wonderment at the possibility of an invisible creature descending upon their humble abode stirred a sense of loss/joy inside. how is it possible that we as adults lose this sense of childhood amazement/adoration in small wonders?


our visitor's imprints




grading.....i mean using my imagination

imagination then is something i have tried to cultivate today as i have poured over the pile of winter quarter grading. can i sense some green footprints in the writings of my students? do each have a unique print that i can pull from their words? this has been the task and no easy challenge. 34 years of calluses are hard to slough.

as bruce hornsby in shadow hand so eloquently says:

so nice to pretend
think i'll do it again

no cards to send, no torn heart to mend

a little imagination and then

a world of fantasy with my friends

such is my world. imagination and all on this mid march day.

meditation

(almost) every wednesday for the past three months i have meditated on ice, snow, powder and slush.

i have renewed my interest in the slopes and skiing.

and while i can’t say that i am able to find a centeredness a la buddha in his lotus pose, i have found that in descending down a fall has cultivated my ability to let go. the mountain has taught me so much about not holding back- that the joy of carving snow on ski edges is the moment where fear and gravity coalesce and your mind/body have no other option but to follow.

now to find this ability in the day to day parenting, partnering, teaching, grading and breathing is the challenge.

hibernation

and as the snow melts, replenishing the earth here in denver, the sun’s rays seem to be renewing much inside and around me. it’s moments when i capture a glimpse of my mint plants beginning to emerge from soiled sleep or the christmas rose who has wakened her pinkish blossoms in march, where i become aware of my own personal wintered sleep.

this sleep has hidden my mind away from descending upon a dissertation that is still deeply covered by soil…actually quite in seedling form, i have come to realize that with due time, it too will become a christmas rose. i also understand that my lifecourse in teaching is just beginning, also striving for springtime sun. it will flourish with the seasons. and although this past quarter has had its blizzard moments, it has only made my roots stronger.

i have also understood too, how the love in my life has taken flight toward warmth. i have shut my eyes in snow capped slumber to its knocking, denying that i can hear the echoes of a heart’s renewal. only until recent have i answered; peeling back the calloused blankets of hurt and loss.

hibernation has ended.

fearlessness

from shambhala: the sacred path of the warrior, by chogyam trungpa:
"going beyond fear begins when we examine our fear: our anxiety, nervousness, concern, and restlessness. if we look into our fear, if we look beneath its veneer, the first thing we find is sadness…when we slow down, when we relax with our fear, we find sadness, which is calm and gentle. sadness hits you in the heart, and your body produces a tear. before you cry there is a feeling in your chest and then, after that you produce tears in your eyes. you are about to produce rain or a waterfall in your eyes and you feel sad and lonely...that is the first tip of fearlessness, and the first sign of real warriorship. in the shambhala tradition, discovering fearlessness comes from working with the softness of the human heart."

i now understand the nature of sadness and tears when delving toward the essence of hurt. they have guided me fluidly toward my fears, leading me to realize that there is true fearlessness in exposing them with others. i know now that i shouldn’t be alarmed at the abundance of crying when faced with change, but to be joyous in this knowledge; i possess the dexterity in which my heart can be softened and stilled.

understanding this cultivates in me peace and a realization that love/understanding/fearlessness can rise phoenix-like from ashes.

dandelions

i had a dream three nights ago. one which i found startling only after i awoke … i saw myself engaging my awareness to a small patch of earth, a garden which was in desperate need of attention. overgrown with weeds, dandelions and crab grass, i was instantaneously drawn to the sprouts of new growth. were they sunflowers? baby’s breath? petunias? all flowers which make my heart sing. at the same time i was overcome by the expanse of dirt which was in desperate need of tilling and attention. nothing can grow without this garden’s cultivation, weeds or flowers. it was overwhelming and renewing at the same time. in this moment i awoke to the life that awaited me for the day….

i find myself in a fluid state. if i glide along as if being swept by the elements whether wind or water, i won’t stick too long to objects to make sense of how long i’ve been there. for now i soar knowing that I’ve decided to conclude this ph.d., to follow through with that i started two years ago. to be unrightfully called “dr.” by my students seems like an insult to the path which i’ve trotted upon, but at the same time i find a sense of purpose in teaching young souls the helping profession which I call my own. i am also reminded of the untilled pain of my grandmother’s passing just three years ago. one i still find too painful to cultivate and grow anew. i am also reminded of whether life is truly too short to constantly question the reason for….the reason for….why… and just do. is it people? is it place? were some seeds sewn that never had a chance to come to fruition? acknowledging for once to simply be-come what feels right and stop.. just stop, obstructing what has always been there, and transcend the choices i've made, before the elements take me further into seasons without my knowing.

i also question what it is that instigates my words to grow, setting my inner flowers abloom, while knowing there is so much more to till.

one thing is certain, i have felt only once in my life a sense of static, a sense of where the fluidity seemed to melt away and open up. where the whys and hows didn't seem to matter and doing was the easiest sense of being. but again, as always there is still so much more to express..