Talking with myself.

“Having a child is an opportunity for great growth and you get so much in return.” 

“Really? She just told me she wants to emancipate herself from us. She says she refuses to move with us to the South.  She wants to move to CT. She said the F word to me. She says she is going to hate every moment of it. It is my fault because I want to be in a warm place. She hates the everything about the South including the people and the heat.”

”While we try about life, our children teach us what life is about.”

“Life is about what again?”

“Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.”

“Oh, no. Does this mean I am going to Hell?”

“A daughter is a little girl that grows up to be a friend.”

“I have you on this one. I am not friends with my mother. I don’t even speak to her.  Wait….Oh Lord, please. I am not becoming my mother am I?  When I had Nell I had no idea that she was going to be so gifted and so full of anxiety. Who expects their child to have the kind of struggles that my child has had all her life?  Who can ever be prepared? 

“He who teaches children learns more than they do.”

“I think I have learned that I have a fierce love for someone can be very angry, afraid and has no reference point for what it is to be responsible for someone’s well-being.”

”To often we give children answers to remember rather than problems to solve.

“Oo Oo…I do this! Frankly she scares me. She is like a hurricane and I don’t have shatterproof windows.  How, do we know when we push, protect, stand firm and just plain go on vacation? 

I am going to punish my children by saying “Never mind, I will do it myself!”

“Hey!”

“Human beings are the only creatures on earth that will let their children return home.”

“I see what you are saying here.  Lighten up and breathe. Think silence and sun-kissed beaches.  Seriously, this is about me putting the significance and meaning into everything, isn’t it?   She says she hates me and I think “You drove her to this because you made too many mistakes.” She says I am ruining her life and I think “She never going to speak to me when she grows up.”  Yet, it is all words. Just words that are spoken into the air.” 

“The only Zen you find on top of mountains is the Zen you bring there.”

Wow, she apologized. She said she would not complain and put me through purgutory anymore about moving. It was her fear talking. Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. She realizes that even though she does not want stuck in her misery it is after all the place she knows best and feels safest. She hugged me. She said she loved me. Twice.”

“If I never do anything else in life that will be fine because the most amazing thing I ever did was to give birth to this baby girl.”

“Agreed.”



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The baggage of a life well bred.


My brother, Mother, and Grandmother.

I was brought up with a lot of rules, and my mother was brought up with even more rules than I was. My father, not so much. He was the youngest of six Italian children. The last boy spoiled by his wonderful mother and his two older sisters. My mother was raised by an unstable, very pretty, and smart woman bent on being accepted into WASP society who tricked my Blue blood grandfather into marrying her with a deception so heinous ‘Lifetime’ could not have written it better. Such was my mother’s world.

 My mother is obsessed with what was “Low class” or “Nouveau Riche” and a code of rules that is part of a world that would not even let her be a member.  Good God, you cannot imagine the list.  Some of them so amazingly stupid, as kids we would roll our eyes and make ourselves deaf. The boys more them myself. I took more of it to heart.

Mom is also crazy thrifty.  That is an Old Money kind of thing. It’s a bit spooky, and it teeters on the line of Hoarders. I think mom has some clothing in her closet from when I was about eight, just in case she wants to wear it. I also hang on t0 things, I hate waste but I also like to purge. Still I have in me that “you use it up and then you use it a bit more” DNA.

I have been taught impeccable manners and I am very polite.  I had music lessons, rode my beloved horses, was taught art, taken to the ballet, symphony and theatre.  For all this I am grateful. We did not have a lot of money and my mother did well with what we had. All I was exposed to helped shape me and feed the very creative center of me. I know how to set a table for any occassion, how to write a thoughtful thank you note, and how to be gracious to others. I have impeccable taste and know how to dress for any event even though my own eclectic sense of style has shocked my mother more than once.  She once called my daughter and I trash at the dinner table because she found out we both have our ears pierced twice in a single ear. Oh, and lets not get on the subject of tattoos. Her head spins and she spews foam.

“Susan it’s tacky to wear diamond earrings with your jeans. Why do you do it?” 

“No Shit, really?  I’m not sure. Perhaps to piss off the Vanderbilt’s.  You know how easy it is to make old Vanny mad.”  Of course I didn’t say this. Mother scares me, and has no sense of humor.

 I did grow up to disappoint. No matter how hard she tried to raise us to exceed what I think she thought were her own mistakes, I don’t think her three children quite lived up to her expectations. I married “beneath my status” twice and in her opinion have carried the Blue Blood tradition of craziness on. My mother is convinced I am unstable. Something she has announced publicly and written to my dear husband about. (Poor man. He comes from a jovial Polish family. This is all so unnerving to him.)

I am estranged from my mother now. Two years ago this past winter, just after my dad died.  It is was a painful decision that took me two years to make and cost me a relationship with one of my brothers. I am thinking that this year of exploration cannot be complete if I do not examine my feelings of guilt and shame around my estrangement from mother. As well as look at the ‘shoulds’ and ‘have to’s’ that I still carry from my upbringing, knowing full well that there are no ‘shoulds’ yet it is as if I have this list of rules stamped on me, carrying it wherever I go. I mean we all know I cannot wear stirrup pants, ever, ever with shoes. Okay, I can’t wear stirrup pants period. Nor can I ever put anything olive-green in my kitchen or tease my hair into a beehive…..or wear bright blue eye shadow. Oh, and never ever put those crochet doily doll things over your spare toilet paper rolls. You don’t snap your gum or pick your teeth with a tooth pick and you never ever use incorrect grammar. No more short skirts after forty and if you spend any money at all on your wardrobe it must be on good shoes.

I now need a nap.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMQ4n-t8-2E&feature=related

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Let my introduce myself.

When I was eight my mother decided that we all needed to learn to meditate. By all, I mean myself, my Italian straight-laced dad and my WASP mom. Not what you would call the typical group to head off to a Transcendental center to be given personal mantras but off we went. That was my first introduction into the world of Transformation.

That’s how my childhood went. My debutante like mother was into Adele Davis, organics, La Leche League, animal rights, organic farming, making her own cheese, raising goats, channeling, healing, experiences with the entities…..All with the rules, regulations and wardrobe of Blue Blood society.  Confusing indeed. My Italian father did not know what to think. More than once he could be heard to say “Geez Janet, what the hell is that?” 

 I imagine I confuse others as well. A Reiki healer myself and horse trainer that specializes in ‘damaged horses’ that no one else can get through to. I am also a designer and look more like a fashion ad than a page out of Organic Times. I wear red lipstick to the barn. Love beautiful fabrics and anything that sparkles. Drab is just not  part of my vocabulary. On more than one occasion I have been called ‘Fluff’ by a patchouli wearing, sandle footed, yoga devotee that thought my hobbies were shopping, getting my nails done and lunching with the ladies.

 I love to joke and write. Many know me from my funny postings and short stories. I don’t think they see me listening to Tibetan chants and feeling moved. Once an interior decorator my home is my nest and I take great joy out of creating a space everyone loves to languish in. I am not about to build a Tee Pee and go live in it for greater awakening.  Yet, I use mindfulness to drink in the pattern of the afternoon sky and the smell of warm skin. I garden with great joy and passion. It grounds me to this earth.

Fifty this year  I believe I have a measure of wisdom and  knowledge. My life is better for what I have studied and apply to my life. Yet, I have been struck by the thought, “Have I just applied this knowledge and used it instead of putting my life within Transformation”? What would that be like? Who would I be? How would my mothering, my designing, my training, my riding, my health, my marriage and everything in my life  be affected?

 So I have decided to take this year and see what evolves out of taking on and studying many things that I feel are a part of what I am calling ‘A Meditative Life’.  Of course I will let the Universe provide me with paths.  I will not resist. I don’t know how this is going to look but I am very excited about the prospect of what I may discover. Somehow deep inside I feel this peace that is ever so small.  I think it is waiting to be nurtured and fed so it can grow and spread. If that is all that comes of this journey what a blessing that will be. Peace within.  Utter bliss.

  

 

 

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