From Drought to Disaster: Notes on Strange Times

So, now I come to the point of having to make a decision about this week's leg of the project. After having meditated (finally!), and spent countless hours taking photos of the aftermath of Friday's storm, I'm going to sit tight on that until tomorrow. Things have changed dramatically around here.

Typically, Ayla goes to preschool for several hours four days a week, but that won't be happening this week, as her school doesn't have power- like nearly every place in this area. Evan and Ayla are my buddies for the week, which means I have to tailor things around that. Mark's classes are cancelled indefinitely too. Because no one in central Ohio (that I know of) has cell phone service, even the voice lessons I teach will be tricky; I'll have to drive over there early in the day, hoping they're home, and ask if we're still on for the evening (we usually text a few hours before), then go back later. More than likely, though, they don't have power, which will make use of the keyboard impossible, and their house will surely be very hot. We may end up doing our lesson outside in the shade, or coming back to my house- we are one family in a very small area that has power, because we are on the same tiny power grid as the hospital (we surmise).

Friday, June 29, 2012:
At 5:30pm, we had just arrived at a music store to get guitar strings for my best friend's birthday. We could see an hour or so before that a storm would be rolling in at some point, and we were so grateful. This area was in the worst drought it had experienced in decades. Everywhere you looked it was dry, light brown. We pulled into a parking spot, and my phone rang as we were exiting the car. I stayed to talk to Ayla's aunt, who rarely calls, so I knew I had better answer it. Mark and Evan were on the way to the entrance of the store when I called them back.
"I think we need to go back home," I said to Mark. Lezlie says the storm just hit Granville, and it's really bad. Eighty-mile-an-hour-winds bad. They don't have power there, and she said it's crazy."
"Okay, I'll be quick. You can just wait here," he said to me as I shut the car door and told them to hurry.

Not ten seconds after Mark and Evan got inside the store, windows down in the car, I was hit in the face with a piece of paper, and dirt was flying in from all over the place. There had just been dark clouds and a breeze, and instantaneously, the wind was ripping through. I put the keys back in the ignition, put the windows as quickly as I could, and flung the car door open. A huge table umbrella flew up behind me and hit the car next to it. I was honestly unsure I would make it the twenty feet to the music store entrance without getting hurt. It was intense. Abrupt. As soon as I got beyond the car, a transformer exploded loudly just down the street, and the block's power surged. I yelled, "Please!" to the employee who was securing the store door to let me in. He held the door open just enough for me to get inside and locked it. It all happened very fast.

My first though when whirling back around was that we were in a glass-front shop with hundreds of untethered musical instruments, and to us, it looked and felt like a tornado was imminent. Evan was, of course, afraid; he's only six, after all. Hell, we were all pretty afraid. I know I was. We tried to make the best of it, and there were a handful of other people in there who were doing the same. I washed the dirt out of my eyes in the bathroom lit by a generator, and we waited. Paying for the strings with exact change, we left after about twenty minutes when it had died down. Though the area was without power, there was still the stormy, dim light of evening, and everything looked to be relatively in tact, surprisingly. It wasn't until we started driving home that we realized it was not at all that way.

It was like a scene from a movie.

All the traffic lights were dark, so people are having to do that "treat them like they're stop signs" business, which only works with courteous drivers, of course. Inevitably, you're dealing with people who keep going like they're entitled to a green light, or some such thing; thus, traffic was backed up everywhere. We made our way off the main road, only to enter a war zone. Trees were down all over the place. Everyone was outside, in awe of this thing that had blown through. A live power line on the road had cars rerouted through a ditch and down over cinder blocks. Lightning had struck so many trees at a local park, it looked like it had been chosen for destruction. Enormous, old Oak trees, gooey Evergreen trees, all broken, charred, torn apart at every turn. As Jeff Foxworthy once said, "It was paaandelerium." Yes. Yes, it was. The world was almost silent, barring a whispered, "Oh my goodness..." every fifty feet. No one knew what to make of it. I had my hand over my mouth for most of the drive, eyes wide in astonishment and empathy. What would normally have taken five or six minutes to navigate, took nearly half an hour. Central Ohio was in crawl mode.

Arriving back in our neighborhood, we were greeted with two huge trees pulled up by their roots, laying now on top of a light blue sedan. I mean, HUGE trees. Just came right up and toppled over. Branches and limbs and twigs and leaves and dirt as far as the eye could see. At the other end of a parking lot, another tree had come up by its roots, just missing the roof of a building. Everyone hung around outside for a while, talking, pondering the next move. We tried endlessly to reach Mark's daughter and her mother, but no such luck, so we knew we'd be venturing out that way as soon as the mayhem in town presented an opening. Mark and a few others went to help clear a road nearby. Evan and I went exploring.

An avid photographer by hobby, I wanted to document everything, see what we could do to help. I took photos of the damage, asking neighbors along the way if everyone was okay, seeing if there was anything we could do. Everyone seemed to be fine, though a little in shock, especially as lightning had struck a big tree a few feet from an apartment building (my best friend's building). There were limbs dangling on power lines, trees blocking roads and walkways, branches that needed to be moved to make roads and parking lots drivable. We tossed things out of the way as we walked, and remarked to each other over and over how crazy it all was. Evan was amazed, having never seen anything like it, and he used the word "disaster" a lot.

We ventured back home, only to hear that AEP said it could be days before power was restored, as the damage was so widespread over multiple counties. The heat index that day had been 104 degrees, and it was supposed to be nearly as hot the next day, so most everyone was contemplating how to deal with that. We were too. We hopped in the car just before 9, hoping we could make our way to see that Mark's daughter was okay. Through this, we saw the north end of town, which was as bad, if not worse, than what we had seen earlier. The covering over a play area at Ayla's school had collapsed; a stretch of residential road near the local college campus was just destroyed. Not houses, mind you, but trees. That's the thing- from what we could tell, most houses and cars (and even signs and trash cans and playsets) were all fine. We still don't quite understand it. You would think that, if a storm of this obvious magnitude ripped through an area, everything in its path would incur damage. Not the case here at all. It was just trees (with the exception of a little siding here and there). I've seen less destructive storms toss shingles all over the place, send trash can bouncing and rolling, bring down street signs and commercial signs, tear pieces of billboard signs to shreds, but no...almost nothing. We saw ONE bent sign along the highway, and ONE set of traffic lights that had twisted, but that was it. And we drove all over town. Just trees and transformers, damaged from both lightning and wind. In two days of driving, I only saw two houses damaged, both by trees falling on them. Granted, the trees really bit it. It was a sight to behold. Almost like The Nothing from The Neverending Story had barreled through, pulling up trees and tossing lightning bolts at them. Surreal.

Needless to say, Mark's daughter is fine. So far, the news reports only one death associated with the storm, though it blew over a handful of semi trucks an hour or so north of here. It's all so strange. It still is. When I walk out the front door, I see those two enormous trees that were pulled up out of the ground, though someone brought out a chainsaw yesterday to free that car (still drivable). We are one of the lucky few to have power, which came on with a frightful bang yesterday morning. We hear tell that it could be five or more days for everyone else. If we didn't live on the tiny grid also occupied by the local hospital, we'd probably be in that same boat. There is no cell phone service for anyone in this area, regardless of provider, so we're relegated to emergency calls. Admittedly, I kind of like that. I hate the sound of my phone beeping, even though I am guilty of using it. In times past, when I've run out of minutes, I would let it sit that way for a few days just to have some quiet. It is very, very quiet around here. Unless, of course, you go to the one store near here that's open, because everyone west of us is coming there too. The lines are terminally long, and people are starting to get cranky. They ran out of ice half an hour after the storm, and the shelves look pitiful. The ice cream bar next door has been so overrun that they've been opening early and staying open three hours late, because people are desperate. The drive-thru across the street has had a line as long as a football field ever since too. I hope those three places are paying their employees double what they normally get. Their business is booming, and their workers are saints- never a moment to rest, working double shifts. I commend you all.

As part of this week, I believe I will come up with some way to thank them.

We had a decent rain this evening for the first time in over a month. It has cooled down considerably, a welcome respite for those without power. I imagine a lot of people are sitting outside tonight, enjoying what little chill than can get, as tomorrow is supposed to be very hot again...and the next day, and the next, and the day after that. With Fourth of July celebrations just a few days away, I'm curious to see how those will play out. Something tells me that ice cream and lemonade vendors will receive more than what they typically do on a hot summer day- people's ideas of cold things have changed here. I would also venture to say that anyone who has a pool has had more than their normal share of visitors lately. Grills are cooking a lot more than just burgers and hot dogs, coolers have become refrigerators. Cars are used for air conditioning, instead of driving. Funny how our perceptions of certain things alter in situations like this. I know, just from being where I am, that a lot more people know their neighbors than did before. Too, I guarantee that out-of-town families are having visits they weren't expecting.

On a semi-side-note, four hours before the storm hit, our neighbors gave birth to a baby girl in their home with a midwife. From the block party that night, we could hear her tiny cry at 1 in the morning- a life-filled sound. Congratulations, you two. All the best. A birthday that will be remembered in a multitude of ways.

From drought to disaster, to calm, and finally to real rain. The boys are asleep- worn out, really- and I'm not far behind. I spent all of last night and today sick and unable to do much. I think I can logically chalk it up to food I didn't think was spoiled. Oops. Never again. I'm scared of anything in the fridge. I quit. The power of non-perishables.

A new week begins with clean up, gratitude, and waiting. We will find new ways to play, new ways to eat, new ways to be together. There is nowhere to shop or to go, so things will be a little different for a while...for everyone. Everything happens as it's supposed to happen, though, so this is just how it is (a concept a little difficult to explain to a child, but kudos to all the kids who are being super troopers right now). Please be generous with family and friends who live around here, and to anyone who ever has to go through anything like this. Times like these bring out the best and worst in people, and it's nice to see those who can pull it together for their families and others who need help.

Thank you to the few local shops that are handling far more than their fair share, and to AEP (for working around the clock and bringing in employees from out of the area) and the Red Cross and all those operating shelters and relief efforts. Thank you to all those who have lent a hand. Stay cool and hydrated, everyone. It's only temporary, as all things are.

[To see photos from the storm and other things, go to Galleries, and click on Week 3 Photos.]

And so we live.

Peace to all.

Goosebumps...Not Goosepoop

Meditation, though having a dictionary definition, means different things to different people. It is thought of both loosely and rigidly, abstractly and specifically. Sort of in line with the nature of meditation. It can be done with the eyes open or closed. It can be done sitting, standing, walking, laying. It can be done contorted like a warm, salty soft pretzel. It can be whatever it is to you, and to those of you who meditate, that sounds about right (though some would attempt to argue it is one way, and one way only..."if you do it right", that is).

I used to do it one way, until I was shown another way, and I liked that way. Yes, I did. Very much. This week I had planned to use that way five different times in nature. I wanted to have conversations with nature, not by actually doing so, but by not having any conversation at all...with nature. The anti-conversation would become the ultimate conversation. Beautiful. But alas, there has surfaced a new way.

I have been very busy this week conversing with nature. In particular, I was very busy with it today. I have been acutely aware of this drought lately and have been remarking to myself that I am witnessing nature killing nature. As is the natural cycle, I suppose. The sun, the heat, the air, and a dramatic lack of precipitation have led to a rapid and dramatic loss of life in this area of our planet. Everywhere you look it's beige where green was not so long ago. Everywhere. I guarantee you gardeners have had to dead-head more marigolds this month than you can remember in ages- if ever. Walk through the grass without shoes. Try it. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch...like walking on fallen pine needles. It itches. It stings. Earth's blanket has been scorched by weeks of heat without water, leading up to today's temperature over a hundred, with no rain in sight, and another sweltering day on its way. The river is drying up; the creeks are already there; and I went from grape to raisin in record time today.

There was an almost audible sigh from the plants in my mother's garden as I watered them at sunset, hoping to give them a fighting chance by letting them revel in it overnight. A few hours earlier and the water would have evaporated on its way out of the hose. A practice I always consider to be meditative, it was particularly satisfying today. I couldn't get to the next plant fast enough when I started. I said to them collectively in silence, "I'm coming! Try to be patient! I will get to all of you, I promise! I know it hurts! It's going to be okay!" They were so grateful. Yes, I truly believe that, because I heard them...I felt it. It was like that scene toward the end of Beetlejuice when they're withering away to dust in front of everyone, and the spell releases them just in time for rejuvenation. I was there with those plants. I needed water too, and I felt for them, and we are all a little more alive then we had been before.

It was my best friend's birthday today. After watering the garden and putting my son to bed, having made a pot of fresh coffee (why we are crazy enough to drink hot coffee when it's a hundred degrees out is beyond me, but it just has to be done...every day, we had a conversation worthy of saying that it was between our natural selves.A conversation you don't have with everyone- not because you can't, or because you would lie about it- there are simply few other human beings in our lives that share certain parts of us. And that is why they are our closest friends. It may still have been indescribably hot, aided by the hot coffee, but we remained on the porch, only to end up seeing eleven UFOs in just over two hours.

That's right. Unidentified Flying Objects. By unidentified, I mean that they were not planes, nor were they helicopters, or hot air balloons, or meteorites, or whatever else. It was the first time in my life that I have seen something in the sky that I cannot explain away. Their patterns of movement were incredible. Their speed and color were new to me. It was like watching a movie, but above my own head, and with UFO number three, every hair on my body stood up. Goosebumps. After the first five, we were on sky watch until it was time to go, amid lessons about stars and space, and conversations about our place in the universe.

I love getting goosebumps...the kind you get when you experience something amazing or particularly moving. The kind you get that feel significant in that moment, and chances are, whatever it was that gave you goosebumps will not soon be forgotten.

As I sit here finishing this Friday afternoon, it is easily hotter than it was yesterday. Hazier too. So, that would make it what? Somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand degrees out here? Poor plant life...it's so thirsty. Poor people who have no choice but to live and sleep outdoors in weather like this...they're so thirsty...and that's a wild understatement.

I spend another day conversing with nature, getting as close to the heart of these relationships as I can. The energy between me and these dying blades of grass, between you and that cloud, between the goose and the fish, between the air and the ground, between me and you and you and you and you- between us and all of it- gives me goosebumps. I love goosebumps.

Conversations about nature, with nature, and among nature. Conversations with all things natural becoming natural. From one piece of nature to another, stay cool and hydrated today. Love to all things.

The Nature of Expectation

Well...

It's been a few days since I've posted, and this week's theme is Conversations with Nature; interesting, as it's turning out to be far different than I had originally expected. I have said for years that expectations are dangerous, a concept I came to better understand from reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle.

You see, expectations are what we think will happen, what we envision the future will be like. We take what we know of previous situations, conceptually average it out, and create this scenario in our mind from it. The chances of whatever it is actually happening exactly that way are slim to...no...wait...it's impossible. There is absolutely no way that our car will go exactly that speed for exactly that amount of time, or that she will say those exact words with that exact look on her face, or that everything will go off without a single hitch, because we happen to have been subjectively lucky in the past in matters of this kind. Ridiculous. It's impossible. We have already created this expectation though, whether we meant to or not, and whatever scenario we have imagined is swimming around waiting to be fulfilled- whether it was optimistic or pessimistic in nature. Our exact expectations are never met. Never. Ever. And when expectations aren't met, disappointment isn't far behind. It waits in the wings, ready to jump out as soon as this inevitability arises. And with unmet expectation, disappointment, comes a feeling of loss- a loss for something we never even had to begin with. Now, how ridiculous is that...?

For these last few years, I have been ever-striving to rid my mind of expectation. Yes, it's a tough habit to break. No, I am not there yet. Not even close. That said, with practice, I have learned to do this once in a while. The beauty of not having expectations is that you can't be disappointed. When you allow yourself not to know what is to come, and to be okay with that, a phenomenal thing happens: life. Expectation is a resistance to what is, and if it isn't what it is, what is it exactly? Right.

Okay, so I had expected this week to be about meditation. Not just any kind of meditation- a very specific kind of meditation in very specific places. Five specific places to be precise. Five places in nature. Well, Monday came and went without meditating on the edge of a lake. Then, Tuesday came and went without having meditated in front of a tree. And now, you likely expect me to say that Wednesday has come and gone without meditating too. Yes and no. Today, I had expected to find myself meditating in the middle of a garden. Interestingly, you actually have to go to a garden, sit down, and meditate if you want that to happen. Who knew? What has happened this week, you ask? I'll tell you....

Primarily, I have learned a good deal about the natural world. It was only when I stopped kicking myself for having not meditated a particular way, and allowed myself to be where I was yesterday- letting go of the original expectations for the week, that I was able to see the conversations with the natural world I had actually been having. And I wouldn't give them up for anything. The best part is that I don't have to; they're already there, and mulling them over has become a part of what this week is thus far.

I must quickly mention that I have granted myself very little rest the last few nights, and the truth is that my body is tired. So tired, in fact, that I will have to relay the bulk of the last few days tomorrow, because I am headed to my bed shortly. My typing has slowed- it is taking longer and longer to decide what I'm going to say in each sentence, which tells me it's time.

I will say this: nature is anything and everything that isn't man made. Nature is everything from water to oxygen to cliffs and Great Blue Herons. Nature is (for lack of a better term) all things natural. We breathe it, we consume it, we see it, we touch it, we love it, we abuse it, we seek it out, we have it in front of us....it is us. We are as much a piece of nature as any bird or grain of sand or sunflower or sea creature. I think we forget that sometimes. I know I do.

Until then, friends, I can no longer resist the piece of the natural cycle we call sleep...nor should I. Rest up, as will I, and we'll converse again tomorrow. Conversations with Nature.

Week in Review/Lessons in Wellness of the Soul

This past week was focused on health and wellness of mind, body, and spirit. It began as the introduction of healthy habits- eating well, staying hydrated, being physically active. The week ended with my having adhered to the goals I had in mind, but it also ended with a grand dose of family, which was a boost for the soul I had not expected...and in which I am so grateful to have had a place. To the long list of family members (some old, many new): thank you, thank you. Love to you all.

What a weekend!!!!

A whirlwind, it was- this weekend full of family, food, fun, hugs, exhaustion, driving, swimming, laughing, playing, talking, baking in the sun. From a family reunion to a bridal shower- a ninety minute drive Friday, a sixty minute drive Sunday afternoon, and then a three hour drive Sunday evening back home- there was a lot of love to go around. Though admittedly, I am so tired I may sleep for a week. We all might.

My boyfriend's family held their family reunion this weekend. We have been together quite some time, but before this, I had met few members of his family. In fact, it had been years since he'd seen most of them. I have been lucky enough to get to know some of his immediate family and their children, but there were a lot of new hugs this weekend...I feel like I'd waited forever for them. There were a handful of family members I'd heard so much about over the years, stories from his childhood and beyond, and so I was terribly excited to put faces with these tales of life and growing up. Leave it to this family not to disappoint. My son and I felt so welcome in a new place, but a place so familiar all the same. There was so much food!! Holy geez...so much food. There were all kinds of cousins for the kids to swim and play with, and a very devoted older cousin who painted somewhere in the neighborhood of a million faces...beautifully and creatively, I might add.

I can't say enough how much warmth there was from everyone. I felt like I'd known them all forever, and I can't wait to go back. And I did truly have one of the best hugs ever from the loveliest woman...a true matriarch...a good soul. You and your family are fantastic. Thank you so much.

There were two key people missing this weekend, and I look forward to the day I can meet you both. We think of you often.

Sunday, I headed further south to the bridal shower of a woman who's been like a sister since I was very young. Again...so much food!! I'm so glad I was able to make it, to continue to be a part of family functions like this one. I don't see you all enough...I know. It was a great time, and I was even on the winning Pictionary team, and won another game! Woohoo! As far as the game where we had to smell spices and name them- uhh...nope. Was never going to win that one. I tried though! Really, I did!

I ran around taking pictures all through the shower. I love that role- the photographer, that is. It's a great way to get to talk to everyone without feeling like you're invading every conversation randomly. I did a lot of that at the reunion too. It helps break the ice and feel a part of it all. Plus, I just love taking photos. Love, love, love it. It is certainly a hobby very dear to me. Thanks to everyone for letting me get all up in your business with a camera!

Now, finally home again on my porch- my perfect, cozy porch- I admit that I'm grateful to be here. Grateful to be able to sleep in my bed tonight. Grateful that my kids are finally starting to calm down. Grateful that I can get ready for the new week of the project. Grateful that I can sit down and look at all the pictures, going over the weekend in my head, thinking of all the things I learned and experienced and laughed about.

My steps toward health and wellness involved a lot more that just being physically and mentally healthy. I end this week with a feeling of gratitude, health of the soul. When people come together- related or not- and there is a sense of real interaction and belonging, it sure goes a long way.

Hug someone. Right now. Go ahead. There ya go...a really good one.
You feel that?
Me too.
I like it.

Peace and love to all.

Let the Fesivities Commence

Yesterday was certainly the most active day of the week thus far, and considering the temperature, I'd say that was a personal victory. So far, so good with health and wellness. I have kept up with my refreshingly sparse (but smart) dietary goals, managed to get it several miles of walking (though not quite as many as I'd originally hoped for), spent oodles of time with my favorite mini-humans, been productive, stayed hydrated, and I feel mentally and emotionally calm....happy.

The weekend starts today; we're headed to Mark's family reunion- about which I am so excited. I love his family (the handful of members I've met anyway), and the idea of meeting everyone is really enticing. Not only will the kids have countless other kids to play with, but I get to put faces with family stories...and I love that I can be with Mark in his territory, watching him be with people he hasn't seen in years. I'd just as well enjoy being a fly on the wall, so this is icing.

The weather is just gorgeous this morning, having cooled off considerably with a welcome breeze last night. The colors are light; the air is gentle; the mood is pleasant. Mark has taken the kids to get their hair cut, which gives me time to pack, do laundry, take a shower...I mean...post in my blog. I have so much to do! But the porch is so nice....

I can't say that I'll have much time to write this weekend, but I'll come back with tons of thoughts and photos (I will have also gone to a bridal shower before I make my way home again).

This really has been a week of conversation, of trial, of an exercise in good habits. With this calm I feel now, I look forward to next week's adventure, and to letting things be as they are. As we discussed with our favorite, wise neighbor this morning, whatever comes next is whatever comes next, and there is so much peace in that.

Be well, friends.

Just Around the River Bend

I'll admit that it's difficult, even for a born walker, to walk miles in this heat- this supremely humid weather with (still) no rain. Where on earth (or up there) is the rain....?

So, I do what I can with physical activity, walking in shorter stints. I drink water left and right. It has been so hot during the day this week. The kind of heat- thick and wet- that feels like it pushes the sweat back into your pores before it can get all the way out, so you just feel heavy, weighed down. That's where diet comes into play...and those lukewarm showers and wading in the river.

Not long ago, I had my third small meal of the day: a colorful salad with spinach, black beans, tomatoes, onions, carrots, and cucumber slices. I throw a little Light Asian Toasted Sesame Dressing on that bad boy, and it's all I can do not to say, "Mmmmm....", so I do, quietly, with Janis adding the soul to my salad in the background. Breakfast was a bowl of Smart Start (my favorite cereal) with light organic soy milk, and for lunch, I had an everything bagel with roasted garlic hummus and some baby carrots dipped in said hummus. Delicious. Nutritious.

The air is significantly cooler now to the skin than it was hours ago, though it's thickness remains. A hot week indeed. The gnats seem to find my laptop screen to be the perfect setting for their nighttime gathering, and it may be coincidence, but one of them appears to following the blinking cursor as I type this paragraph. (He hopped away two words before the end of that sentence).

Mark, the kids, and I had a really super time at the river earlier this evening, and I've put pictures from that adventure, as well as Evan eating his all-green meal, in Galleries. There was stone skipping, splashing, giggling, sending an eagle (goose) feather down river,  a little falling in, and cool water on a sweltering day. Family time. Excellent. I will say this, however: a once clear, beautiful river has turned into a drying, stream of crap. Between this drought and the countless polluters, the main flow of the river is still as lovely as ever, but the river beds are absolutely disgusting.

Oil, trash, chemicals. Not okay. Between the rocks is a shallow pool of orange slime, shimmering like it thinks it belongs there somehow. Rainbows belong in the sky- not in rivers. Take your iridescent sludge and shove it. Have a little respect for what natural beauty there is left on this planet, and leave us some of it. Please and thank you.

The time has come for some very necessary rest. Thank you, Evan and Ayla, for making us laugh and giving us cuddle bugs- even grown ups need some of that.

Until tomorrow's adventure begins, sleep well...be well.

To Accept, Or Not To Accept? That Is the Question.

Life happens. Go figure.

Not a dull moment today. By that I mean that it was a strange, interesting day. By that I also mean that I am rarely bored. My mother showed me a long time ago that boredom is one of the most temporary feelings in this life. You get that twinge of it and do something about it, because the feeling of being bored simply means you need to change your perception of the situation. We're always, always doing something. Even in the most "boring" moments, we're breathing. And there's nothing boring about breathing. Admittedly, I don't like that word- I don't really think it means anything- and any time one of my kids says, "I'm sooo bored," I say, "You mean you're not doing anything?? Anything at all? But you're talking to me, telling me you're bored...that's something!" They look at me like I'm off my rocker. Inevitably. But they get it by now...they know what I mean, and they laugh, and then they're not bored anymore. Silliness is a great "boredom" squasher.

Well, today was certainly not boring. Not even close.

I can think of at least three things today I would consider far from boring. Some might say they were awful things. Some might say they were stressful. The twinges of those feelings were there, but today was a lesson in acceptance, a non-academic subject I find far more crucial to life than most things we are told to absorb in high school or college. Thank goodness humans aren't graded on the ability to accept life as it happens, because you'd find many a tearful student, unable to accept the grade they'd been given in Acceptance 101.

The few close friends I have are very dear to me for innumerable reasons, but one of them is that they feel the way I inherently feel about life situations- they're just that: situations. And situations are temporary. As are all things, feelings, conversations, moments. All temporary. Is that a negative view of life? Not at all. It is a peaceful view of life, a view in which life is allowed to flow as it is without my resistance to it. Does that mean I am perfectly peaceful in every way? Absolutely not. It does, however, mean that I am aware of the impermanence of all things, and I continually strive to live without resistance to life...and everything that comes with it. I am no Zen master. I am no guru. I definitely get agitated. On a day like today, there were situations around every corner begging me to get sucked in, begging me to fume, begging me to resist.

I say to these temporary situations today, "Ooooohhh...you're good. You put up a really good fight! A year ago, you'd have had me at 'hello', but not today. Nuh uh. I have neither the time on this earth, nor the energy, to give in to your demands. Nice try though. Really! Good game."

Some situations are harder than others to turn from. Some days, the sun goes down and you feel like your ass has been whooped. I know. But do you know without a shadow of a doubt that you're going to wake up tomorrow morning....? Me either. I don't want to go to sleep tonight in a state of resistance, or panic, or anger, or resentment, or tension. No, no. That's no good.

Whatever happened even a moment ago is gone now. It's over.

This week, in particular,  is about health and wellness, and I consider that to be all-encompassing. I feel healthy right now. Right this moment. And that is a priceless feeling.

Late Night Musings on Several Unimportant Matters

It occurs to me that every time I make popcorn for my kids- for popcorn and movie time- I snag a few pieces, even though I don't like popcorn. At all. The only kind I eat willingly is white cheddar, which I love, and only because I don't pop it in my microwave. That smell...ugh...ever since I was a kid. When I grab that handful after I've made the kids' bowls of it, I chew it for a second, then tell myself there must be something wrong with me that I continue to subject myself to eating fluffy paper that gets stuck in my molars. Ridiculous. And yet, the next time we have popcorn and movie night, watch me do it again.


Tonight, I had an uproariously funny conversation with some of my kindred city folk, in which I was given a new nickname. I love nicknames. I started to think of all the nicknames I've had thus far in life, and I realized there are far more than I would have imagined. We're talking names that stuck for a while, stage names. Names to which I would actually answer.

Bre, Banana, Cheese, BB, BB Won, BB Won Kinobe, Breana Breana, Lea, Vens, Reeks of Beautiful, Bre B, Charlie, BJ, Breana Lee, Brena, Little, 64, Blondie, Big Jo, Kung Fu Princess, Wubus, Kid, Breezy, Breezy B, Caranilla Sweet Vanaramel (AKA Vanaramel). Oh, and the new one: Blogger Bandit.

Surely, I am forgetting some, but that is enough to make me giggle and question whether or not my friends and family actually love me.



L ovingly
I nitiating
F earless
E xploration


In the eyes of the beholder:
    Happiness
    Beauty
    Success
    Morality
    Victory
    Love
    Sanity
    Righteousness
    Worth
    Talent
    Reality
    Truth


Goodnight.
    

Week In Review / Let the Good Health Begin!

Last week was a truly unbelievable experience. I am so grateful to have made it this far, and continuing forward seems the only option at this point. I can feel it already...new things...old things...good things.

Rachel and I gave out cards in Columbus that really seemed to make people's day. It most certainly made our day. Laughter, tears, hugs, high fives, smiles, and warmth in the air- sorry if we added to global warming, but we just couldn't help it- it was awesome. No amount of rain or people who avoided us like the plague slowed it down. We can't wait to do it again! When the time comes, if any of you want to feel like you just won the emotional lottery, join us...

There was dinner and closure in one night, in a place where sullen faces are more than acceptable. Sometimes a little spaghetti is all you need; sometimes you need to go back to the places you've been and see them in new ways. Sometimes you just need to be around another person who knows, needing to say nothing at all.

A random act of kindness toward animals is super up my alley, and I must say, I'm glad to have come back with a few photos, because those baby raccoons were adorable...and hopefully still safe! Too, there was something so seamless about that day at the park. My friend and I had needed to become close again, and six children played together like they'd known each other forever. Thank you, Christopher, for being you- you're a good brother, and a good person...and I did genuinely miss you.

We did our best to rid the world of a little bit of litter...one step at a time. We certainly had a lesson in respecting wildlife as well (I'm sorry, but I have to say again- those geese!!!!). Thank you, Evan, for showing how big your heart is, with both trash pickup and donations. Thank you, Ayla, for your generosity and good spirit.

And there was, of course, goose poop.

After a wonderful, liberating weekend, the week of good habits and good health begins.

No meat, no dairy, no crap. Miles of walking every day (my favorite activity for good feelings and clarity). Plenty of water; plenty of rest. My mind is edging in a good direction, and I intend to teach my body to follow. When our bodies aren't in a healthy state, they pull energy from our minds that we cannot afford to lose. Here's to balance.

This morning, my very thirsty children and I took to the trails. Bikes under butts, I followed behind (walking) while they pedaled their way through the trees and countless other health buffs. It was hot, but it was beautiful, and we surely came home feeling like we'd gotten some good exercise. I am reliant on that pitcher of cold water in the refrigerator to be my best friend today, and sitting here now, I am enjoying this rest with a great view. The coming weeks are looming, assuring me that I will be very busy, so I know that starting these habits now will serve me well.

With this glass of purity, cheers to all of you out there. Raise your water glasses! Take a big gulp! Rinse and repeat.

Happy Health Everyone! And thank you again for all the support. Keep reading, keep spreading good energy...we all need it.

Peace and love

Wake Up...It Feels Good

To finish out the first week of the project, I got all the bread, peanut butter, jelly, and bottled water I needed to make sandwiches to take to a homeless shelter in Columbus. Over the last week, the brakes on the car started to make us a liiiittle nervous, and driving home from my mom's yesterday, it was apparent: there was no way I was leaving town. Ugh. Sigh. Pout. I've learned how to deal with the brakes this past week, leaving them as much life as possible, but the idea of having to be in potential traffic, or come to a fast, defensive stop, was not an option. Bummer. That said, everything happens as it's supposed to happen, and last night turned out to hold the key to progress. I'll take the sandwiches when the brakes are fixed. Yes, that sounds much safer.

I woke up abruptly this morning, feeling rested for the second time in a row...that almost never happens. I slid out of bed, started the pot of coffee, had a bagel while it brewed, and sat down to do some writing. Now, I'm here talking to you. Well...talking to myself, really. But it may turn out that I'm talking to you at some point later today. (By the way, it's an odd feeling to log in to Blogger, see the number of page views I've had, and not know who it is that I'm actually talking to. Surreal). Hello, friends! Whoever you are....

So, here's the thing: I'm not a skinny girl. That probably doesn't come as a shock to you if you know me, but recently, it came as a shock to me (in my head) that I would like to think that no one knows that but me, though most surely do. Well, it's true. I just never wanted to admit it. All my life, I've seen pictures and thought that if the rest of the world never saw them, they'd never know. It was just my way of never telling myself the truth- a seemingly easy thing to do.

I'm a "stander". If you've known me for more than a short time, you may actually understand what that is. It means that people have always said to me, "Sit down, honey; be comfortable; you're making me nervous." To which I would reply, "Oh, that's okay. I'm a stander. I prefer it, but if it really starts to make you uneasy, I'll sit." Then, they would inevitably come back with, "No, that's okay...stand if that's what you like. It's cool."

Well, it's not what I like (except on certain occasions)! I have been uncomfortable for seventeen years! But I never told you that, so it became my burden to bear. There was no way I was going to sit. To sit is to reveal one's flabbiest form. To sit is to allow fat rolls free reign, unless of course you sit up straight as a board, which I did many a time, but that is far less comfortable than standing. Thus, I was a stander. I have probably spent four years of my life standing, detached, unable to really be a part of something, because I didn't want to be me. If I've ever made you uncomfortable on account of my standing, I apologize. However, the standing likely led to my burning more calories than had I been sitting, and it probably led to my becoming a walker, which is one of my great loves, and I'd never take it back. In fact, it was a walk last night that led to my finally being able to say something I had needed to say (even to myself) for a long time. Oh, and watching Youtube videos of ThE tUnE-yArDs. She speaks truth. My truth. And so, the honesty began to flow. And I feel more like a whole human being than I have ever felt.

 "I'm just kind of a fat girl. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not, when everyone knows I am anyway. It's why I stand all the time. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. It's exhausting. I'm tired. I don't want to do it anymore."

To which he said, "Well, sit you down, girl. Take a load off." The beauty of it was that I was already sitting, because it was time. And he smiled. And he kissed my cheek. And he was warmed by my honesty. And he said he loved me. And I think he really does...still...after all this time, all this....

I've always been an open, forward person- a social butterfly, an answer-the-call emergency friend. I said "yes" to too much outside stuff, and "no" to too many important, personal things. Women. I am as neurotic as the next. In fact, I think I became a writer, and tried to become good at it, because it was a way to let my neuroses out in a creative fashion. I am bat shit crazy. I'm loud. I talk too much. I'm a busybody. I'm overbearing. I'm jealous. I'm often uncomfortable in social situations. I smoke too much. I drink too much coffee. That said, I don't drink anymore, and that was a major saving grace. Drunk Breana was not cool, despite the fact that she thought she was, and (thank goodness) it's been an awfully long time since she came out to play. Life is far easier without her.

Regardless, last night was so liberating. I have felt more balanced in the last few months than I probably ever have, and the more I continue with this project, the better I feel. It's amazing what happens when you do what you really believe you're supposed to do. I am learning who my friends are. I am learning what my relationship is. I'm learning what family means. I'm learning how to be me. Freely. Fearlessly. Well, it's a process- a path, if you will- and I'm finally comfortable with it.

Maybe some of you know what this feels like- how exhausting it is to try to be someone you're not, all the while you're actually still who you are, but you don't want to accept that, so you keep trying to convince yourself that with all this effort, one day you'll wake up and be the person you want people to think you are. (I got tired just saying that).

The world already sees you. Let that be. Every person you come in contact with has their own perception of you. Let that be. Stop trying to correct the perceptions you have of yourself, and just be. It's not exhausting. Not at all. We get tired enough just trying to exist in societies that are forcing us to move and think faster than we were built to. Don't make it worse.

Wake up.

It feels really good.

For Sandwiches, Friendship, and Michael Jackson

Yesterday was the first day of this project that I didn't post, and I keep reassuring myself that it's okay, that I don't have to post every single thing I'm thinking or doing. Fair enough.

Minus the sound of a tractor, I feel like I'm in the most peaceful place on earth right now- my mother's back porch. Surrounded by the leaves of who-knows-how-many trees, all kinds blending together to make up a leafy semi-circle, I am so lucky as to be blogging outdoors, by myself, with a glass of cold water on my left and cup of hot coffee on my right. (Can't do without my hot coffee, but it needs a cold counter-attack, because it certainly is hot today.) Sip right...sip left. Ahhhhh.

Yesterday turned out to be a beauty of a day, one that included a random act of kindness- toward baby raccoons- and the long-overdue resolution of a relationship in need of mending for three years. It all happened at a park. Lots of picnic food, lots of sun, lots of kids, lots of good energy. (Saying "lots of" that many times in a row started to sound like "lotso", reminding me of Toy Story 3...I love that movie...should watch it again.)

My kids and I met up yesterday with a wonderful friend with whom I have spent far too little time the last few years, and her four children. I had packed a plastic bag of food for my kids and me- sandwiches, pickles, Sun Chips, applesauce, juice boxes. When she showed up with her van full of kids, she practically dumped her entire kitchen onto the table. Had I been sipping on my coffee at that very moment, it would have shot straight out of my face. Bananas, grapes, brownies, bottles of water, juices, sandwiches for a hundred, yogurt, and who knows what else. I nearly died. Needless to say, there was certainly no shortage of options, and the eight of us had a lovely lunch in the shelter.

Just as the little ones were running off to play on the playground, one of them noticed two baby raccoons in the trash barrel as he was clearing his section of the table. So, my friend and I, and her oldest, proceeded to attempt to get them out. It was a raging mess. They were clinging for dear life onto the trash bag, and it meant that we had to turn the barrel upside-down, trash everywhere, to get them out. Had they been adults, we may have let them do their thing, but we were afraid their mother may not find them, or that the heat would do them in with such a heavy lid on top. Plus, we both have a weakness for animals. And they were so cute!! They scurried, all wobbly, over the cement in the shelter, as we chased them around with cameras, staying far enough away so as not to...well, you know...rabies and stuff...and not wanting their mother to do away with them having had human contact. Eventually, they made their way to a tree, and we watched (oohing and ahhing) as they made their way up. Oh, and then we picked up that mess of trash.

"There's your random act of kindness for today!" she said to me. "Awesome!"

Three years ago, her oldest and I had a serious issue. I had been around those children A LOT for quite some time, and I loved them like they were members of my family. They needed me. I needed them. I was incredibly fond of all four of them. The oldest was eleven at the time, and he and I were able to have "real" conversations, and we had an understanding-of-sorts that the others were simply not quite old enough to be a part of yet. For multiple reasons, I could no longer come around, and it was something I was never able to adequately explain to those kids. I missed them, and apparently they missed me too.

After having not seen them for a few months, the four of them were walking with a family member near where I was living at the time, and the three younger ones all but attacked me with hugs and kisses. It was particularly emotional. When I looked up to the oldest, he said, "You left us," and turned and walked away. It was the last I saw of them until yesterday.

We were able to talk on an adult level, and all the kids had a great time...as did my friend and I. We were out there for hours! Everyone got along swimmingly; the oldest gave the little ones rides on the zip line; Evan and Ayla were all about it. Evan had met them when he was very small, but this was Ayla's first time with them, and everyone was so happy. It's the longest I've seen my kids go without arguing about something in ages. Not even a tiny little, "No I didn't!", "Yes you did!" It was fantastic. Even though someone said there was a wishing well at the top of the hill, and though confused, we climbed- hot as hell, to the top of the hill, only to find there was simply a sculpture dedicated to those lost or captured in war. There was sighing. The kids all had their coins out, ready to go. Instead, we held our coins, thought of someone we missed very much (it's been an emotional few days), and laid our coins on the monument.

Ayla was very private about hers, which we respected; one of her kids had thought of her grandpa. Evan said, "Mom, you know who mine is for?" I had a pretty good idea, and I said just that. "His initials are M.J." he said. I thought for a second and said, "Oh my goodness....you did yours for Michael Jackson...??" He smiled broadly, and I said, "You know what, babe? I'll bet you do really miss him and are sad that he's not with us anymore...he really means a lot to you." Truth. [That boy does not just think MJ's music is cool- he thinks it's prolific (in his own way without using that word, of course). He understands why I get emotional every time (yes, EVERY TIME) I hear "Man in the Mirror"; he understands why he's as popular a singer and songwriter as he is. That child is not obsessed...he is overjoyed. Ayla has since become a huge fan as well, and the two of them dancing is a sight to behold. Evan does his MJ moves and gives himself street cred, while Ayla does phenomenal, creative improv in circles around him. Too cool.]

When we were packing up, I turned to the now teenage boy and said, "If it makes any difference at all, I missed you." He smiled and nodded, lowered his head, and got in the van.

Tired, hot, and thirsty, we all left that park in a really good place.

Later today, I'm off to Columbus again. PB&J sandwiches and bottled water are coming!

Have you ever gone days without food? Me either. If you have, then you understand. Use what you do have to help someone in need. A little goes a long way, and that is what this week has shown me so far. It doesn't take much, so give a little: time, money, kind words, a helping hand, a smile, a sandwich. Whatever you can, whenever you can.

Again, thank you for all the support! I am so lucky to have such wonderful people all around me.

Tim and Matthew, we love and miss you every day.

Bittersweet Spaghetti

Spaghetti. Garlic bread. Chips...just in case.

Rachel and I headed to the Hospice floor at the hospital this evening to serve dinner to the families and friends of two patients. Having talked to the nurse earlier in the day (thank you Kristin for all the info!), I was under the impression there wouldn't be many people there, bringing slight relief, as I was unsure I had enough food. I called back right before I started cooking to find out from Sally (thank you for checking with everyone!) that there were seventeen people on the floor...uh oh. And four staff members. Food for twenty-one. Okay. Let's see what we can do....

We loaded up the car, trying not to spill the meat sauce, because somebody doesn't seem to have lids for everything and has to use tin foil. Note to self: more real Tupperware. Having not been to the sixth floor of the hospital in three years, there was a tiny twinge of anxiety. I was in such a whirlwind before, I can't really remember what it was like, what the vibe would be. Right off the bat, the nurses were so welcoming, so fantastic. They gave us our space to set up and told me I could go tell the families when everything was ready. It was very quiet. For an hour, things were very quiet.

We had the opportunity to talk with a few of them, though most (understandably) took their plates back to the room. There were painful moments, difficult stories to hear. The general tone of that hallway was somber. The moment they walked into the kitchen to fill their plates though, you could almost feel the fog part...just for a short time. Some of them joked with each other, some gave firm but loving support. Some were silent. But all were so kind, so appreciative. Hopefully, some were hungry, and it was a chance to step outside it for a moment to rejuvenate. I remember what it's like to realize you haven't eaten in days. I remember what it's like when you realize the only thing normal to you anymore is a hospital room.

Our experience on that floor was primarily joyous, which I recognize is not the case for most people. We were all so lucky to have experienced the best week many of us had ever (have ever) had. Having been caught up in the swirl of music and laughter and inspiration and constant activity, I didn't realize that I had missed out on something crucial until today.

Three years ago July 21st, I fell asleep with Tim in his bed, having not slept for something like 35 or so hours. In the neighborhood of 1am, with just a handful of people still there, Mark came in to wake me to go home. Knowing he had a matter of hours, I was hesitant, but somehow, it really was time to go. I had cuddled my 'goodbye' to the sounds of YES and rattled breath. And we left. Remaining there was a small group of wonderful friends of Tim's, and there was much comfort in that. This included my mother, who called me not an hour later to say we had but minutes, holding the phone to his ear to talk with him, into another place and time. If you were there, you still think about these few minutes. You remember. You know. And with that last breath, at just the right moment, came total silence. No one breathed. No one cried. Not yet. It was just too perfect to weep. But then I did, sobbing, still on the phone with no one for what seemed like an hour.

I was never crushed that I wasn't physically there, because if you were there, you know. You understand. And I could hear him...all of them...all of us together. I was there. Or was I?

Tonight, as were began packing up what food was left, Kristin asked if I'd like to go in his room. It seemed perfectly natural to do this, and I felt no anxiety in it at all as I walked toward 604. As soon as the door opened, it was as if I had been there yesterday, and I was seeing this empty bed for the first time...because I was. I can't remember the last time I sobbed like that. The next five minutes in that room was something I never knew I needed. I had a sense of closure I didn't know I was lacking. An empty, sterile hospital bed, next to that big, Tim-sized recliner. I never got to feel him leave that room....until today.

Hospice nurses, you are a gift to humanity- molded from honesty, depth, empathy, and purpose. Your job description should read The ability to just be. And that is, by far, the most difficult thing in this world to achieve. All who have been in your presence hold a life-long appreciation for this gift. Thank you.

What I went to do was serve spaghetti to people who needed a little nourishment of body and spirit. What I walked away with was a collective 'knowing', a bittersweet journey down a hallway and into a room, shared with seventeen other people who need not say a word.

The Nurses of Hospice at Licking Memorial Hospital:
Dawn B.
Jeanie B.
Gina R.
Kristin S.
Sally B.
Deb V.S.
Vicky K.
Cheryl T.
Tania B.
Judy D.
Kelly S.
Connie O.

For the lovely conversation, for all your help, for a hug, and for opening that door....
You know who you are.

Thank you.

To New Beginnings

After taking the female bambino to school, Evan and I went to drop donations off at New Beginnings- the local battered women's shelter. They were so kind and appreciative. Thank you to the staff who came out front to help. Evan was so proud, lugging what bags he could up the ramp. He even noticed an electronic bowling set his grandmother had put into the mix, citing ever-so-bravely that he still liked it, a little miffed that she had decided it was time for it to go. He had his moment though, and shrugged his shoulders, carrying it to the door. He made sure the woman knew that he and his little sister had worked really hard to go through their things. She was ever so grateful. We took a picture of him standing with all the things we had brought. Good grief, he's getting so old...

What a great feeling. It would have been enough of a pleasure to have taken those things by myself, knowing that people who really need a taste of home would be getting them; when your children are a part of it, the feeling goes a lot further. I'm unbelievably proud of my kids.

Later that afternoon, I saw the wise neighbor I had put in a word or two about in yesterdays blogs. I was sitting with a friend of mine I hadn't seen in ages and introduced them. She said, "Oh, you're the wise neighbor...I read about you on her blog!" He laughed. "You wrote about me?" "I sure did," I told him, at which point he said that he has to read it now. We laughed as I gave him the web address.

The weather has been beautiful, though I'm hopeful for a little rain soon. I won't complain if there's a thunderstorm soon....ah, how I love a good thunderstorm. The louder the better...with a good light show, if possible...and hours of heavy rain. Ideally, it would roll in after the kids are asleep (they'll sleep through anything, but if they know it's coming, it's madness), I'd get to watch it for a couple of hours before going to sleep to it. Never do I sleep as peacefully as during a thunderstorm. But alas, not a cloud in the sky as far as I can tell. Appreciate what you have...and be careful what you wish for :-)

Right.

It's a lovely day. The freakishly big fish are breaching like baby whales every few minutes- a sound I've come to wait in silence for some days. This perfect breeze has kept up for two days now. I was so taken with it all yesterday afternoon, that I shot a five-and-a-half minute video of the nature in front of me. It was so calm. I panned ever so slowly across the water and along the tree line, noting the chirping of the birds, twenty of the hundred geese we have sunning themselves without a sound, and the willow tree. That willow tree. I figured that someday I'd want to really remember this place, and I wanted to remember it exactly how it was yesterday afternoon. I watched it last night in the same spot, but in the darkness, and it was almost surreal.

Man, I love my porch. I live outside though. Can't do walls. No, sir. You'll often find me huddled in a blanket and robe in the winter, writing on the porch. I'll go back in to warm up, then I'm right back out again. Winter...bleck. Someday, it will be porch weather all year. Can't do walls.

This evening, Rachel and I are off to serve dinner to the families on the Hospice floor at the hospital. Hope they like spaghetti and garlic bread! Thank you, Mom, for staying home with the kids, so as not to overwhelm the small group that will be there. Three years ago this July, they so lovingly took care of Tim for his last three days. Those poor people...there were anywhere from ten to sixty of us up there at any given time of day or night. We are all so grateful to have been afforded that opportunity without an issue. Acoustic guitars and voices and all. Thank you, Hospice. It takes a very, very special kind of person to do what you do.

Enjoy the rest of the day, everyone. And by the way, thank you to everyone who has been in support of this project: those that read the daily posts, those who have shared this link on their Facebook pages, those who care. This year-long project is so, very important to me, and I'm glad there's been some interest. Thank you, thank you.

Be The Change...

Wisdom, Good Deeds, and Goose Poop

Well, the park turned out to be an interesting experience today. My son and I did, in fact, take a lunch there; and we did, in fact, throw our trash away when we were done, but....those geese!! I'm used to Canadian Geese- toward them I have no ill will. They usually leave people pretty well alone. But those big ones...the ones that weigh forty pounds with orange beaks of steel...they're another story altogether. I'll bet Evan and I sat perfectly still at the picnic table for close to ten minutes. We were surrounded. They were hungry. There were at least a hundred geese total, and maybe twenty of them were those tragically brutal ones. They have an air about them. They're in it to win it. They creeped over, ever so slowly, but in a gaggle, in a semi-circle, leaving us nowhere to run but perhaps up and over the picnic table- at which point, we were sure they would follow. And they're faster than they look.

"Mom....Mom....um....I'm...." he trailed off out of the corner of his mouth.
"I know," I whispered. "Just don't freak them out. Patience. For once in your life, you just have to sit perfectly still, babe." He giggled quietly. "Shhhhhh..." I giggled back.

It was intense! They finally got bored of being ignored and moved on, at which time we slowly gather our trash to leave the pavilion, but then...."Run!" We ran to the car, unlocked the doors, and sat inside until Evan got so disappointed that he hadn't gotten to play yet. "Okay, well, we don't have any food on us, so we'll just book it to the other side of the lake. You go ahead of me...I'll hold them off." And that's what we did, but through what we semi-lovingly referred to as The Poo Gauntlet. It was a lot funnier on the way back to the car when they didn't care about us anymore.

After the playground, we had to sidestep a good few hundred piles of goose poop on the path. We had no choice...and we laughed the whole time. There is a photo in Galleries of what Evan called The Sand Castle of Goose Poop, as it had a goose feather on top of it. Had it been dog poop, I may have called a cab, but goose poop isn't so bad...just everywhere! It was an adventure, indeed.

I have to end with what was supposed to be the purpose of this day in the first place: Evan the anti-litterbug. It had been his suggestion to go to this particular park to pick up trash, and that's what we did. Well, that's what we did when we weren't running from the feather mob. We got what we could, though Evan said he didn't think we did enough. I told him that every little bit helps, and it's the the fact that he wanted to at all that matters. We got what we saw as we walked, and though that park has a long way to go, there is less litter there today than there was yesterday...and that's a beautiful thing.

Thank you, Evan. Even at six, your heart is as big as that of your favorite dinosaur.

The day turned out to be far better than what I had anticipated in my morning yuckiness. A wise neighbor started it off in a better direction, my son helped it make a leap even further that way, coffee with Rachel was really pleasant and necessary. The voice lesson I give went well, and I came back home to tee-ball with Mark and the kids. My mom showed up with a trunk full of donations for the shelter to take in the morning, the little ones are asleep. I have fresh coffee (my favorite evening routine), conversation with Mark about life and such, I'm blogging (which I'm really coming to love), and the night is quiet and peaceful.

I bid you all, adieu.

Peace and love.

How About That

I will admit straight off that I woke up this morning feeling utterly crappy. Just plain gross. I haven't felt particularly well for over a week now, and I woke up in that mood where you absolutely do not want to see or speak to another human for at least an hour or two. But of course, my kids were up running around at 6 this morning, a good hour-and-a-half before they normally get up, after having taken thrice as long to fall asleep last night as is typical. Uh huh. I'm pretty sure they got a good glimpse of Cookie Monster after having gone days without a cookie. There was a distinct lack of cheeriness involved. It wasn't pretty.

I calmed down enough to keep from turning them against me, but that feeling just wouldn't go away. Honestly, my first (and subsequent hundred) thought was, this is the week of kindness...Monday was incredible...how can I feel like this?? But alas, there it was. Still. The original plan for today was nixed early this morning- I suppose things really do change constantly. I saw my neighbor (our favorite, honest, full-of-life neighbor), explain to him this crappiness, and said that I was going to ask my son what he thought would make someone's day today...he's always full of kind ideas. My neighbor quickly said, "Or maybe what you can do to make his day today..."

Ah. Yes. I see.

I came inside, got Evan up on my lap, and apologized for the hungry Cookie Monster business. Naturally, he said something along the lines of, "It's okay, Mom...I know...it happens...", and the like. There was hugging. Then he asked if I was still going to do today what I had planned. I told him that things had changed. I asked what would make his day today, and he said:

"Let's go to the park! Well, you know, we could go to the park and play and pick up litter! How about that, Mom? We'll, like, play and stuff, and if we see trash on the ground, we can throw it away. Remember that really messy park with the cool lake and swing set? How about we go there?"

And just when you think he's finished....

"Oh! We can pack a lunch, so you don't have to spend money, 'cause I know you don't have very much, and then throw our trash away when we're done! How 'bout that??"

Single tear. Okay, maybe two or three.

Physically speaking, I still feel yucky. Spiritually speaking, I feel like my son is made of flowers and light and positivity and sunshine and a gentle breeze and...well, frankly, it makes me feel a little more that way too. Even just for a day. Credit where credit is due- children are spreading the kindness today. Time to go to the park.

A Pile of Good Energy

I decided to spend most of the day with my son today. He leaves soon to spend a long while with his dad, and I'm starting to panic a little, so time with him is good. I wanted still to continue with the message of the week, so I started gathering things from our house to donate to the local battered women's shelter. I'm delivering them Thursday, after getting donations from people in our neighborhood (I already have a bag of food from a family member). It's so rejuvenating to get rid of things...even more to give them to people who not only need them, but really appreciate them. I can't even imagine what it must be like to run in fear to a new place, surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds and routines, especially with children in tow. Resilient as they may be, it surely can't be easy. That said, a little home-y flavor is always a good thing, so take the time once in a while to give things you no longer use or need to people who really do need them.

My son left a really lovely comment on yesterday's blog post while at my mom's house. I cannot describe in words what it feels like when your child is proud of you. I can only think to say that it is better than when your parents are proud of you, and that's a great feeling. Today, while cuddling on the couch, he said, "So, explain to me again what this project thing is about."
"Well, I'm just trying to do the things I feel like I'm supposed to be doing. I'm trying to be a better person, and maybe help the world be a little better too."
"Yeah, your heart's good. You've always been a lot like me, Mom."

What can you even say to that? I giggled and told him that if I'm a lot like him, I really should be proud of myself. He smiled. We cuddled more. Please don't grow up....

While chopping veggies, making dinner, and dealing with simmering black beans that seemed never to be "at the desired level of tenderness", I asked my kids to go through their room and see what they could come up with to donate. They were (semi-surprisingly) so excited to give things away, they called me in to see their progress every two minutes, which explains the ring of dried black bean juice around the eye of my stove. Within fifteen or so minutes, they had put together a pile of toys in the middle of their bedroom floor. They went through every, single thing with me, explaining why another child might like to have it, and why they no longer need it. It was awesome. Yes, they took a few things back out of the pile when they realized what they were doing (haha), but they also added a few toward the end. They felt so good about it! I'm really proud of them, and the attitude behind it. I could hear them talking from the kitchen, Evan explaining over and over again to Ayla the principle of the thing; Ayla would agree, find something, and ask him if another kid would want it. "Absolutely!" he would say. Together, they have made someone's day, and they'll never even see that child's face to confirm it. They did it, because they knew it was the right thing to do.

The photo of them says so much. I asked them to lay on their bellies next to the pile they put together, so I could post it on my blog (they have no idea what a blog is, and though I attempted to explain it to Evan, even the internet is still a strange concept). Evan promptly put up peace signs, which Ayla saw him do, and was in the process of displaying as I snapped this photo. Perfect. Just perfect.

Look in Galleries to see this photo...

A pile of toys is so much more than that. In this case, it was a pile of good energy.

Did You Just Pass It On?! I Sure Did!

Before I say what I'd like to say, this is what my friend, Rachel, had to say about today's adventure:

This morning, walking around Columbus in the rain passing out those cards to people was honestly more amazing than I could have hoped for. It was one of those experiences that I was truly proud and happy to be a part of. To see people's faces light up by something so small and simple, was a lifting feeling. Of course there were negative reactions, but that was completely blown away by the positive reactions we got. Who knew that by making someone smile, if even for a moment, could make you feel (as Bre put it) "better than any drug".   -Rachel

As I said in today's earlier post, Rachel and I headed to downtown Columbus to try to spread a little joy. With our Happy Cards in tow (saying "Smile...Pass It On", "Have a Great Day!", or "Just Sayin' HI" on one side, and "Be The Change..." on the other), we took to the streets. We knew beforehand that some people probably wouldn't want them, and too that there would be people who would look at us like we were crazy- trompin' around, smiling, and giving nothing but a little piece of posterboard away. We gave out 246 cards in 45 minutes, and the reception was unbelievable.

First, we parked way too far from where we actually wanted to be (sorry, Rach), and it was raining...just drizzling at first, but full on raining for the last twenty minutes of it. When we started walking into the thick of downtown, we said, "Where are all the people?!" I'll bet we saw maybe a dozen human beings in the first five blocks headed that direction. "Ohhh...they're all in the Nationwide cafeteria!" Passing a string of windows, there were nine million people eating their lunch indoors. Poop. We were so hopeful that we were picking a great time to be there- lunch hour on a Monday. Not so much. For the first and last ten minutes, it was a struggle to even find someone to give a card to. We hit as many as we could- guys dressed as hot dogs, people waiting for the bus, construction workers, homeless people, grandmas, parking attendants, a fitness center receptionist, petition walkers, environmental activists, professionals, a security guard.

When we got where we wanted to split up (take opposite sides of the street), I had my first encounter with a genuine smile, before I had even given a card away. While waiting for my turn to cross the street, Rachel gave her first one to a woman she passed on the crosswalk, headed toward the guys dressed as hotdogs. As Rachel kept walking, the woman hesitated for a moment when she reached the sidewalk near me. Looking at the card, and then putting it in her pocket, her smile was so gentle, appreciative. Indeed. That's why we're here...game on.

My first encounter in the crosswalk was a man who waved me on, wanting nothing to do with my joy. Well, fine. A little disconcerting to start, but we press on. I walked toward a security guard on patrol near an office building. "I can't take anything while I'm on duty," he said firmly. "It just says 'Have a Great Day!'" "I understand, but I really can't take anything..." He looked down at the front of the card I was holding, reached for it, then pulled back. "I'm sorry, I can't," he said sadly. "Okay. Well...have a great day!" I said as I turned to move on. He yelled from behind me, "Thank you! You too! Really, have a great day! A great day!" I turned back around to wave, as he did the same. I sigh even now as I write this. It was fantastic.

Though there were many people who veered away from us in crosswalks, or turned their heads, or scowled, or waved us on, there were far more people who were undeniably affected in a wonderful way. A homeless woman cried, when she read her card that said "Just Sayin' HI". Countless people yelled, "God bless you!" as we smiled and walked on. Several stopped abruptly, looked up and said, "I really needed this...thank you." We got more smiles than we thought possible. I even ran into a man later who had already gotten one and thanked me again. I gave a card to a college student who was petitioning for environmental protection, and upon reading "Be The Change" on the back of the card, he asked my name and introduced himself. He said, "We do something a lot like this on campus. People need this. You keep on doin' it." We will certainly do this again.

A man was standing outside a teeny little cafe-type restaurant on a cell phone. I handed him a card, and as I walked away, he yelled, "No, come back! You come in, please!" I was thinking instantly about how I didn't have any money to spend in this place...I felt terrible. As I walked up to the door, I said, "I'm sorry, I really don't have any money to get anything- I wish I did." His partner working behind the counter began pouring something in little Dixie cups and said, "No, no. We give you something, because you give us something. Here you go- for you and your friend." I couldn't believe it. He wanted nothing. He had just made banana smoothies and wanted us to have something in return. "Have good day! Happy juicing to you!" he yelled as I thanked him and went to give a cup to Rachel. I believe the place was called L'Arrat, on a corner on Front St near the convention center. Wonderful guys.

We hit the North Market on our way back, and as I was handing cards to three teenage girls standing together in front of a counter, the man behind the counter handed one to the third girl before I got to her. Rachel had obviously already given him a card. It said "Smile...Pass It On". I said, "Did you pass that on?!" He replied, "I sure did!", smiling broadly. We high-fived, of course. I couldn't help but see that it was already working. People really did care...a lot.

We made our way back to the car just before the meter ran out, soaking wet, blisters on my feet (stupid flip flops). We talked about how great it was when people gave back to us what was on the card they got- a big, flashy smile from a smile card, which always made us laugh, "Well, hi! Thank you!" from a hello card, and "YOU have a great day!" from our cards wishing that for them. It was phenomenal. As I started the car, the radio was on, and a popular song came on in the middle of the chorus. He sang:

Ain't got no money, but we got heart
We're gonna rattle this ghost town...


[If you, or anyone you know, received one of these cards in Columbus today, I'd love to hear from you. Thank you to all the wonderful people in downtown Columbus who made our day. Peace and love to all.]

Be The Change

Happy Cards

This week: Not-So-Random Acts of Kindness

Next week: Prep Week- Health and Wellness

 My tag-line as a teenager was, "If only people would just smile and say, 'hi'..."

I got back not long ago from Columbus, having handed out cards to people on the street. My friend, Rachel, came with me, and we hit opposite sides of the street to cover more ground. A third of the cards said "Have a great day!", a third said "Smile...Pass It On", and the other third said "Just Sayin' HI". On the back of all the cards, it read "Be The Change..." In 45 minutes during Monday's lunch hour downtown, we gave away 246 cards between the two of us.Oh, and it was raining the whole time :-)

It was incredible.

Not-So-Random Act of Kindness #1 was meant to make people feel a little better, a little more loved, even for just a moment. At least fifty people turned away, wanting nothing to do with us (I imagine city-dwellers are often asked for money, donations, time to sign something), but we just kept walking. Somebody out there needed one of these cards...we were just sure of it. The reception we got was amazing- inspiring, really. People did need those cards, and we needed what they gave back to us. It was a better feeling than I could ever describe in words.

I have very little time to write just now, but after my children retire to their beds this evening, I will return to share with all of you some of the beautiful stories from the afternoon. We laughed (A LOT); some people cried; there was a lot of smiling, fist pumping, and even a high five :-) If doing something like this doesn't give you a little more faith in humanity, I don't know what would.

Until then, friends...

Breana

The Jouney Begins

This Week (Week 1): Five Not-So-Random Acts of Kindness

Next Week: Prep Week- Health and Wellness

Good morning! It is 2am, and this project begins tomorrow (today)! I am exhausted, admittedly, but so looking forward to getting this off the ground. This first Open Door will include five weekdays of planned excursions and experiences that will benefit others. The intent is often to brighten someone's day, and make life a little less stressful for a while, and be kind to the planet. I'll post along the way, and all comments are welcomed! To everyone who has made this possible and continues to be supportive, I am more appreciative than you know. Join me Monday evening for the first (official) thoughts and experiences of this momentous week for me!! 


Peace and love to all...