A Balance

                                                                                                Summer Babies

Peering through the glass pane from inside, I just stared.  Six deer grazed in our field. A typical sight, yet for some reason I kept watching.  Three of them began to run this way and that chasing each other much like dogs would.  The rest had moved further from our house intent on feeding.  Looking up from play the trio raced toward the others munching.  Playfulness aside, the six did what you expect deer to do-they ate.  I had no notion that deer play since their very survival depends upon food, yet they wisely balanced work and play. A lesson for all.

By Sea

As I got closer and closer, the notion that I could make it all the way home and then to the gas station in the morning without running out of gas, nearly talked me out of a stop.  I had been on the road for two and a half hours and that was just taxiing my kids from one athletic event to another. Tired; I really didn’t want to stop.

“Hey,” I heard a voice.  All my attention was on how quickly I could spend fifty bucks. I looked up from the gas meter. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.” He shifted the thin grocery bag from one hand to another and smiled.

He looked just about the same as he did in Kindergarten and First Grade when we spent every school day together just taller.  “‘Heard you’re doing well,” I began.

“Ya, ‘going to Italy this summer.  Last summer was Alaska and the summer before that was…”  

I stopped pumping.  “Jealous,” I yelled. “Still lobstering?”

“Nah, I go to school year round.  There’s no time. Can’t wait to finish school though.”

“I remember that feeling.  You get itchy. I know it well.”

We said our goodbyes and both drove away in opposite directions.  I wonder if he too was remembering how much fun we had reading and writing together?  School still had that brand new feeling.  Now he travels the world and continues to learn. How lucky to be young and a world traveler by sea.

Discovery

So perhaps we write toward what we will become from where we are. -May Sarton

I have often asked myself why I write. It sounds like a simple question, but it is not an easy one to answer.  Recently I read May Sarton’s, Journal of a Solitude and was taken by the above quote.  I think it gives a partial explanation of why I am driven to write.  A born perfectionist, I am awfully hard on myself. Self-centered or co-dependent I blame myself for more than is necessary.  Constantly I strive and reach for more.  The chatter in my head defines my next tasks to work on.  Exercise.  Meditation.  Yoga.  Positive persona.  Fake it….you’ll make it.  Too much.  Too fast.  I realize I am not that perfect mother, that perfect wife that I dreamed I would be.  I cry.  I complain. And I notice all the dust bunnies on the floor and I am too tired to bother.   Sometimes I write to escape, but mostly I write to understand.   Who am I and who will I become?

Culinary Delights

I am a risk taker in at least one arena-food.  My father was a meat and potatoes kind of man, but my mother had a stomach of her own. When given the chance, she was ready to try anything. The daughter of a chef attends to the presentation as well as the quality and flavor.  My great aunt was the first person I know to use seasonal, fresh local ingredients in her cooking.  Living in downtown Portland, she was a regular at all the farmers’ markets.

When my husband and I went to Israel more than a decade ago, we were anxious to try local cuisine.  We found the yogurt to be rich and delicious, the pizza had a special mix of spices and were carried out folded in quarters and put in a shopping bag.  The shaved lamb was tender and seasoned to perfection.  We also had falafel from a vendor on Mount Carmel.  When we got home to the United States, I roamed the ethnic section of the grocery store and bought a box of falafel mix.  It stayed in the cupboard and was never used.

Now, I tend to make things from scratch whenever I can.  So tonight, using the Epicurious application, I made falafel and everyone loved it.  My home does not have the ambience of Mount Carmel and the transformative powers that the trip brought to our marriage, but our supper came pretty close to being a perfect blend of textures and tastes.  I must thank my mother and my auntie because I will try just about anything, at least once.

Coming Back

It has been a long long winter.  Too much time spent in my head.  Thinking.  My brain has been stretched and manipulated to a degree that it is worn out. Tired like an old rubber band fraying around the edges.  

The woods beckon me to venture into the dark where the moss come alive, emerald green. A path leads to high ground where  the blueberry barrens begin to buzz.  Life comes back slowly.  A pace all its’ own.  This is where I begin to unfurl. Life comes back slowly. Of this I am certain.

One Thing At a Time

                                                                                Photo by Travelinma

“It is genetic,” I joke as I check the pockets of my jeans, jacket,  the crooks and crannies of the large oversized bag holding books and journals and finally my purse-my just cleaned out purse.  Had I already put the keys in the ignition? Nope.  Through the rain and wind, I race in the house.  Scan the table, countertop.  Bedroom.  Night table.  Bed.  Keys on the bed.  Of course.  I left them there.  Don’t you remember when I was looking for something...now what was I looking for anyway?

As a young mother multi-tasking through babies, toddlers, twins and teenagers made me feel empowered. I was doing it all. I was teaching full time, running a business, taking care of children, and  the house. You get the idea.  Holding a baby while doing dishes. Vacuuming while cradling.  Sure.  Multi-tasking got me through. Eating in the car on the way to work.  Reading while talking on the phone.  Executed masterfully, or so I thought.

I was floored when I read a study about the dangers of multitasking.  After all it is not the best thing to be doing. (Oh, my plate is empty?  I forgot that I had finished. Did I really eat that?)  Now the emphasis is on giving full attention to one task at a time.  Multi-tasking is a bad habit to break.  Each day I take moments, close my eyes and breathe.  I pray. Yet I have allowed my brain to be snatched by technology.  The iphone has become another appendage. Awareness is but a start.

Writing each day helps to sort through the clutter of my life to unearth what is important.  It sounds like a bit of a cliche, but living each moment fully means that the mind is trained to focus on the now.  Rewiring the “motherboard” requires  persistent effort. Living mindfully is the key to living the life that I am intended to lead.   I don’t want to miss a thing.

The Promise Package

Possibilities bring hope 

Promising 

Through persistence 

And

Effort

A passionate future.

(It is all up to you kid!)