Last night my son produced a piece of paper explaining that he could come to school dressed for 'Pi' day. Today being 3/14 or 3.1414...clever and fun!
Now, having said that, my son, who is 11 years old, said gleefully, "I would like you to make me a shirt with sPikes on it." Really now. At about 6:00 pm, the night before, and I am to produce a creative twist on Pi with a shirt of spikes. hmmmm...well, I asked how we could accomplish this task together and perhaps some warning of the shirt or costume would have been appreciated. His reply, "Oh yeah, I guess that would have helped."
Quick! What does my creative mom idea powers have in her bag of tricks? How can I come up with an easy and super cool way to go to school, out of uniform? Spy, I ask? No, everyone is coming as a spy.
He was thinking Sherlock Holmes spy and I was thinking stealth, all black, secret agent spy.
Off to his closet and in a matter of minutes we have assembled the all black outfit, with black skull cap, and black wrap around sunglasses. I would expect my son to say no to this simple get up, but he is actually excited! Score for us both!!
This morning, he was up early, dressed quickly, had a look at himself in the mirror and then again, and he quickly went into his character for the day. Breakfast, stealth. Brush teeth, thorough and done! Back pack on and ready to go!
There is something to this character. He felt freedom from his uniform, freedom to be super cool. It was fun to watch!
When we arrived at school and he headed out of the car, the teacher asked "Spy for Pi?" My son, "Shhhh, I am undercover." Well played.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Kindness and Understanding
Once upon a time, one of my sisters said to me, "You are the kindest person I have ever known." It was out of the ordinary for such a display of openness and love.
Years later, I have the motion picture of that experience in my memory. I use it often when I am feeling less than kind. Less than lovable. Less than part of anything. Less than zero...
There is comfort in knowing of people who spent their lives being kind, loving, generous and genuinely doing the best they could to offer love, dignity, and acceptance. Even when faced with those that would choose to purposefully hurt them, they continued to be consistent and true to those actions.
As well, there is a knowing that when we are kind and generous of heart, we will be hurt. Those that would hurt us are those that are so very broken and sick, that they would rather see others suffer and ease their own pain in some twisted way.
Kindness and Understanding. We can choose to use this gift for the sole purpose of showing the world that there are such things. I choose to be kind. I choose to be understanding.
Years later, I have the motion picture of that experience in my memory. I use it often when I am feeling less than kind. Less than lovable. Less than part of anything. Less than zero...
There is comfort in knowing of people who spent their lives being kind, loving, generous and genuinely doing the best they could to offer love, dignity, and acceptance. Even when faced with those that would choose to purposefully hurt them, they continued to be consistent and true to those actions.
As well, there is a knowing that when we are kind and generous of heart, we will be hurt. Those that would hurt us are those that are so very broken and sick, that they would rather see others suffer and ease their own pain in some twisted way.
Kindness and Understanding. We can choose to use this gift for the sole purpose of showing the world that there are such things. I choose to be kind. I choose to be understanding.
Grieving The Death Of The Living
For several years, I have been living in a sort of limbo. A state of being that I believed would pass and that 'life as I knew it' would somehow return to me. Through these years, I have grown in ways that I thought impossible. Grieved in ways that are completely foreign to me. Let go of ideals and beliefs that I had clung to with every ounce of my being; interwoven since birth.
And yet, when there is a death of someone who is indeed part of your actual being, and they are still alive on the earth, it is beyond comprehension. It rips to the very core of me. As if the earth stops spinning, and the heat from the sun burns away all the flesh to expose the inner most delicate pieces of my soul. My heart still beating. My heart is still beating. My heart is still beating. My heart.
When we grieve for those that have left the earth, there is a knowing of the finality of them. Their human form is forever gone and it allows us to at some point understand that our season with them has come to a close. Grieving is accepted and in some cases nurtured by those around us. Grieving is expected. And we learn to live on, without that person or people in our world. We know. It is not possible to see them, speak to them, reach out to them, hold them, touch them. It is the end.
For those that we love, have loved and continue to love, who still exist on earth. Roaming around as though they are fully human, but are a mere shell of what we believed them to be. Their death is one of the hardest to comprehend. How do you come to terms with this death. Grieving is not expected, accepted or nurtured. Let it go. Forget. Get over it. Move on. My heart is still beating. My heart is beating. My heart.
When is it enough and when do I accept that this is the "TRUTH"? When do I understand they are in fact dead. The sweet, vibrant, amazing, loving person, is not. They are dead.
My heart and my brain cannot communicate this language to each other. My brain is screaming at me! My heart is beating and aching and squeezing and part of it has died. My brain keeps screaming! My heart is still beating. My heart.
No more longing for the "life as I knew it". Let the grief come hard and fast. Let the waves of complete abandon wash over me. May I be cleansed of the living dead. May I please have peace.
Grieving the death of the living.
And yet, when there is a death of someone who is indeed part of your actual being, and they are still alive on the earth, it is beyond comprehension. It rips to the very core of me. As if the earth stops spinning, and the heat from the sun burns away all the flesh to expose the inner most delicate pieces of my soul. My heart still beating. My heart is still beating. My heart is still beating. My heart.
When we grieve for those that have left the earth, there is a knowing of the finality of them. Their human form is forever gone and it allows us to at some point understand that our season with them has come to a close. Grieving is accepted and in some cases nurtured by those around us. Grieving is expected. And we learn to live on, without that person or people in our world. We know. It is not possible to see them, speak to them, reach out to them, hold them, touch them. It is the end.
For those that we love, have loved and continue to love, who still exist on earth. Roaming around as though they are fully human, but are a mere shell of what we believed them to be. Their death is one of the hardest to comprehend. How do you come to terms with this death. Grieving is not expected, accepted or nurtured. Let it go. Forget. Get over it. Move on. My heart is still beating. My heart is beating. My heart.
When is it enough and when do I accept that this is the "TRUTH"? When do I understand they are in fact dead. The sweet, vibrant, amazing, loving person, is not. They are dead.
My heart and my brain cannot communicate this language to each other. My brain is screaming at me! My heart is beating and aching and squeezing and part of it has died. My brain keeps screaming! My heart is still beating. My heart.
No more longing for the "life as I knew it". Let the grief come hard and fast. Let the waves of complete abandon wash over me. May I be cleansed of the living dead. May I please have peace.
Grieving the death of the living.
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