'And when he sees me in all and sees all in me,
Then I never leave him and he never leaves me.
And he, who in this oneness of love
Loves me in whatever he sees,
Wherever this man may live,
In truth, he lives in me...'

Bhagavad Gita, VI:30,31

a masterpiece

I catch a view of my hand, and stop breathing for just a second. I breathe in again, this time without fear or shock. I'm going to have to get to know these new hands of mine.

They are no longer the smooth, tanned, taut, buttery canvasas that used to wrap freely around the steering wheel of my 71 VW squareback. The wrinkles and loosening of the skin show that I am growing. I am aging. I will be 35 this year. I know that is not old. I am a mother. I am a wife. A social worker. A woman. Dare I say...an artist? eek! No! I am still not ready to affix that label on myself. The lines and new spots on my hands map out a journey of my life. A fantastic and complicated journey, yet one that is always changing. Because...life...is always changing. With each new line, life doodles on my skin...I stand, observing the new work of art. A crisscross of patterns. I want to be critical because I don't like the composition initally. I quickly understand that won't help, as there are no corrections in these lines...they are done with sharpies-not pencil. So, I look for the story-the meaning-behind the artwork. I reflect.

I'm still reflecting. I still don't love the lines, but we are friends now. The lines are a growing family. I'm beginning to let go...to understand that life is an ongoing process of releasing and embracing. Again and again, over and over. Motherhood is bringing this into focus for me, in a way I have never experienced before. Just when I get used to myself and the regular-ness of everyday life, life will teach me that I don't really know the depth of my being- of our being- and offers me yet another opportunity to go deeper into my life, values, relationships, and the nitty-gritty of who I am underneath this canvas. I'm almost certain that with time, I will see the masterpiece. But that will take a well-trained eye.

green mamas

www.greenmommy.org

started by a collaborative of Sonoma county mamas desiring community & exchange around making sustainable lifestyle changes in our individual and family lives.
I'm a regular poster.
Join the discussion. Synergy baby.

Thursday, February 21st, 11:36am

beeeeep. beeep.beeep.beeeep.beeeep. It's done.
Cinnamon bread from TJ's, a new found treasure buried in the bread isle. Warmed just slightly...just enough to bring it from it's room temperature state. A slab of butter to celebrate. And I gaze with quiet intention at the gray late morning.

The dishwasher runs, and Joaquin dreams. I have the luxury of just sitting at the window, eating my cinnamon bread, yum, and watching the birds engage in what birds engage in. They are scurrying around the feeders in the yard, running out for a quick bite to ease their growling stomachs--between the rains---which they have been trying to stay warm and dry from all morning. They look nervous. Finch. Their nervousness is confirmed with larger jays and robins swooping in on them. For what reason, I'm not sure...but it definitely scares them. Yesterday a rather large squirrel was hanging from the birdfeeder, grubbing some snacks. With my recent intentional efforts to lure more wildlife to our yard, I am happy at the new entertainment outside. I think I might be turning into a birdwatcher. The thought of going on a tour has actually crossed my mind. Not that I know much of birds, but I do find interest in watching and interacting with other wildlife. Maybe a curiosity mixed with contentment is a way to express my love for birds. I rip another piece off my cinnamon bread.

I sit and wonder what other mother's do when they get some time to themselves. I often do "nothing". I enjoy the silence, napping, creating, observing, and reflecting. Some days I am more drawn to it than others. Some days my semi-interest in baking takes over and I cook a loaf of bread or muffins. Joaquin and I also spend time like this together, quiet- being- together time. No expectations, but just following his lead, and being a quiet support and witness to his own internal pull to develop and grow. These times with him are so valuable to me, the moments of just being instead of doing. They are like taking a deep exhalation into the roots of being alive. And an awareness of mothering.

transitions & growth

It's been a couple weeks since my last post, as life just keeps happening.
Joaquin is growing, as are we. Joaquin has had many firsts over the past few weeks. He had his last bottle, used the potty to go "agua" as he calls it, and moved into his own room with a few more months of the crib. I admit that he is no longer a baby, although always my baby, he is now a little boy. Here is a little excerpt from a journal I keep for Joaquin(which is the only thing I can manage to keep for him!):

"Today was a big day. A time of transitions and growth. Tonight, I held you and gave you your last bottle. I once fed you from my breast, your dad fed you your first bottle, and now I feed you your last. I didn't think I would feel as emotional as I have about it, but I notice what the future holds in letting go and watching you grow and mature in to the beautiful person you were born to be."

http://link.brightcove.com/services/link/bcpid452323111/bclid416330929/bctid422561644