Size Matters

This past weekend my sister generously babysat my son for nearly 12 hours. No small feat when you are much more accustomed to "fur children" than the real talking back kind!She and her partner, Dave, managed to keep my little guy quite busy with dog walking, playing with her cats etc.

Dave has always had a nickname for my son - "Little R" , for little Rudzitis (my husband's surname). This has never caused any problems - until this weekend. My son, after serious consideration, decided that he should now be called "Medium R" so as not to be confused with the baby on the way ("Littlest R" was offered for the baby but rejected out of hand by my son as too similar!). "Big R" - well I suppose in his mind, that one belongs to daddy.

Inspiration vs. Perspiration

I'm feeling lonely in the blogosphere this morning. I've been checking and rechecking the blogs that I usually read only to find that they have not been updated recently. I certainly don't harbour any judgement about that as god knows I can go on long stints of writing anorexia. What I am noticing is how much I rely on those blogs as inspiration and as a loose connection to a community of friends and colleagues - some of whom I know personally and some who I share a laugh or ah - ha with during their regular musings.

The silent spaces have left me pondering how the balance of inspiration and perspiration is a delicate one. Traveling through life filled with inspiration might sound magical or even a bit "Polly-Anna" and yet any of us who have been inspiration's thrall can attest to its heady nature. The world takes on a special glow and all things seem possible.

But like fruit left on the vine for too long, inspiration begins to lose its luster and fullness if it isn't brought into the world somehow. If picked to early, the results can be underwhelming. If left too long, it withers and dies. Patient tending and nurturing are required before the final effort of harvest. All of which require some measure of perspiration.

On days like today, when inspiration seems to be distant, I am discovering that perspiration in the form of cultivation is required. Its not enough to shrug my shoulders and say, "maybe tomorrow I'll be inspired to write (or fill in the blank)". True to its nature, my perspiration is rewarded by the gradual return of inspiration. Connections form between thoughts, words begin to string themselves together in interesting ways and new insights are slowly cobbled together all because of this mindful cultivation.

Dreamers are filled with inspiration but their dream state implies sleep and lack of action. "Go-Getters" can become so lost in the 'doing' that they cease to simply 'be'.

Somewhere in the middle, there is the beautiful alchemy of the cultivated dream; the dance between inspiration and perspiration required for creation.

Spread the Net!

In the wake of today's media blitz on the Unicef sponsored campaign called "Spread the Net" -an initiative to reduce the incidence of malaria in Africa -I wanted to pass this great opportunity to make a difference in world on to everyone I know. So often donating to various causes feels intangible. You know your money is making a difference but you are not really sure how.

What I love about this effort is the very practical and tangible nature of it. Its simple. One net can protect a child - and possibly a whole family in Africa from contracting malaria. Malaria is the leading cause of death among children under the age of 5 and it claims 3000 African children a day! Hard to imagine isn't it?

If you want a first hand account of the impact this campaign can have, I encourage you to read Rick Mercer's blog entry of today at http://rickmercer.blogspot.com/2006/11/spread-net.html Not just a funny guy armed with sharp wit and intelligence, Mercer shares his thoughts about this initiative that he was inspired to support after a trip to Rwanda and Ethiopia.

If you want to make a difference in the world, here is a very simple way to do it. Go to http://www.spreadthenet.org/ and for $10 you can reduce pain, suffering and save lives. Every 30 seconds an African child dies of malaria .... how long will you wait to make a difference?

Observations Part 2: Gratitude

Some very interesting things have been happening in my life these days. Maybe they have always been there and I didn't notice. More likely, because I have noticed and begun to pay attention to them, these are events are expanding and popping up in the most delightful ways. I'm talking about a deep blossoming of gratitude for a life that seems filled with celebrations and treats for body and soul.

Last weekend we attended a beautiful wedding. The bride and groom are two of the most refreshingly sincere and wonderful people that I have had the pleasure to know. I've known the groom for longer as he is my husband's cousin, and while I always knew he was thoughtful, fun and generous I had no sense of how deeply he appreciates life until he shared this with us as part of his speech. Humble beginnings in his life have not left him marked by scarcity but has instead bred a deep appreciation and gratitude for everything that has come into his life since. His words and the deep authenticity in them brought tears to my eyes.

The wedding reception was lavish and beautiful. It was clear that this couple wanted to ensure that their guests were treated well and had a great time. As I relaxed, enjoyed being pampered with food and drink and took in all the the thoughtful details I began to pay attention to the conversations around me. To my surprise, any appreciative comments made were quickly followed with an extensive list of why this was "too much food or drink" or "must have cost so much" and variations on that theme. I began to wonder what it is inside that makes us unwilling to accept the generosity of another. It was our host's choice to create an event for their invited guests in a style that reflected their joy and appreciation of friends and family. Is it really that difficult to simply be thankful and join in their celebration?

Perhaps it is our own sense of being unworthy that makes the simple act of enjoying such an event difficult. I know that for me, this is a startling realization. The very fact that these same thoughts of "too much" never entered my awareness signals just how far I have come in my own journey away from focusing on scarcity and into expecting abundance.

Expecting abundance doesn't exclude gratitude, in fact it seems to magnify it. Without being focused on how undeserving I am or how I am unable to match another person's generosity or "keep up with the Jones", I have discovered a deeper appreciation for the wonderful things in my life.

The ante has recently been upped in this internal conversation of mine. A lovely woman whom I have only recently met has given me a generous gift. Her unexpected appreciation left me reeling. I noticed thoughts like, "she doesn't even know me" and "what if I'm not who she thinks I am" were accompanied by an all over sweaty "hot flash". As usual when confronted with such a big invitation in my body I just sat and took a couple for long deep breaths. Within moments, all the connections about gratitude clicked into place and I concluded that the real gift here was the door it opened to my own self-acceptance. If someone else could appreciate me then perhaps it was time for me to feel the same about myself. If someone else wants to celebrate me, then perhaps its time I celebrate myself. If I truly embrace abundance in my life, then how can I question it when it appears right before me?

It really is quite astonishing how quickly life rushes in to meet and exceed our expectations the moment we begin to pay attention to where our focus is. Opening myself to deeper levels of abundance by simply appreciating what is right in front of me, embracing the fact that I don't need to apologize for who I am and embracing the notion that I am totally deserving of good things in life has been nothing short of miraculous - not just for the physical and material treats that have come my way but for the greatest gift of all - the knowledge that I am worthy and can appreciate my life for what it is rather than focusing on what it is not. The "stuff" is just the physical evidence of a change that has occured deep within. I've heard it said that energy flows where attention goes and I couldn't agree more!

Observations - Part 1

Wow! A whole week has just flown by since I last posted. Amazing where time goes, isn't it?

Last week was about all things "baby"! I spent a big chunk of my writing time hanging around the lab in my Doctor's building being tested and then re-tested for gestational diabetes. The first test required about an hour of sitting in the lab between blood tests. The second, 2+ hours. I tried to use my time well by writing in my journal but found the space so cramped that I quickly gave up any hope of doing anything other than simply observing.

I began by taking in the space. Dirty, cramped, stale smelling with only the barest amount of natural light. I swear, every other person was bringing in a stool sample! Whether by the power of suggestion or through my keenly tuned sense of prenatal smell - I was certain this run on samples was not doing much to improve the aroma in the 5 x 10 waiting area that was already crowed and overflowing into the hallway. By the end of my first hour spent there, I felt ill even though I walked in feeling perfectly fine. Scanning my body, I noticed that my sense of illness was not so much physical as a heaviness in body and spirit. I felt like I was moving through thick, dense taffy that sucked at my limbs and left me feeling slow and very, very tired.

During my next 2+ hour stint, I decided to pay more careful attention to myself and to what was going on in the lab. I watched the many, many people who filed in and out of the space. Some looked very apprehensive as they clutched their requisitions tightly. Perhaps this test result was about to seriously alter the course of their lives. Others came in with a smile and a joke to share with anyone who would listen while they waited their turn to be checked in. After waiting with a number for upwards of 20 minutes sometimes, each and every person was greeted by a brusque, unsmiling receptionist who in a condescending tone, who set about interrogating each and every one of them in a manner that left all but a few stripped of their smiles and very clear that not only were they not in charge in this space, they had already somehow caused some offence by simply showing up.

I watched the light dim in those friendly faces, the jokes died by the time they had been checked in from that long line up and those with palpable agitation were nearly vibrating with dread or reciprocated aggression. What a sight to behold! An entire waiting room of irritable, annoyed or frightened "patients".

I bet anyone who works there, including the receptionist feels like their days are long and hard. I'm sure these are the same people who go home every night and complain about how miserable their work is and how awful the patients are that they have to deal with every day. I'm willing to bet that they either gripe about their salary or are asking for more because their work environment is so demanding. And in many respects, they would be right. Their work is hard, their interactions with patients and each other are demanding .... AND they created it all. All the money in the world won't make this situation different! And yet, how many people in other types of workplaces feel the same way? Perhaps a good look at how we interact with the world and what it reflects back to us is in order here before asking for the next raise or complaining about our co-workers and clients...but I digress.

I don't think I have ever observed this phenomenon for so long or so directly. The attitude of that one person infected an entire room others quickly and mercilessly. There are lots of people who would likely begin to enlist this as an example of "bad" energy and how you catch it from other people but that is not where I am heading here. For me, this is not about good or bad energy, this is about how deeply we move into our own comatose states.

For each of us patients, I wonder how many of us lost touch with our own sense of self when confronted by a pseudo authority figure? How many of us with barely suppressed rage, were surprised to discover the tinder inside us that was just waiting for the match to strike and give us permission to explode in public agitation? How many of us were so dissociated from our sense of hope or confidence that we accepted the external cues from this unpleasant environment to be "real" rather than what was going on inside of us? As much as we might like this to be all about an unhappy employee making our lives miserable - it really has much more to do with the response generated within each of us.

We can't change the other person. Its not our responsibility and our focus on them leads us away from the real gem in the experience, and that is what it tells us about ourselves. That is where true change occurs. We have the power to change our perception, to remove ourselves from a situation and to take any other action required to look after ourselves. And sometimes that is simply the act of observing, taking a deep breath and noticing our own responses. We can choose the old and familiar without pausing to realize that our irritation or fear has to do with something else entirely and has simply found a convenient outlet in this situation, taking the pressure off what we really need to deal with.

I don't feel like I need to fix that receptionist or give her a piece of my mind. I have no clue about what her life is like although I can guess that it is probably full of stress and struggle. I can only be thankful for the reminder she was to look within myself and know that I have a choice about how I want to be affected by someone else. Am I willing to give up my health, my peace of mind, my smile to someone else? The answer was her gift to me - "NO!"

Post Script.....

On a less serious note from today's entry below, I wanted to share a link with you who are parents or have been parented :)

Be forewarned, only visit if you posess an irreverent and dark sense of humor -its VERY satirical.....and please, don't email me if you hate it! I only want to hear about it if you laughed out loud!!

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/majority_of_parents_abuse_children

Creating With the Universe

Limitless, boundless potential exists all around us. This is the very fabric of the universe. The smallest particles that make up the atoms which in turn make up every aspect of our"reality" have been scientifically shown to exist in a state of potential until an event triggers an expression that becomes observable. Its not science fiction - its science fact!

The implications are simply mind boggling! Here I am, resting in one "reality" which has been co-created with the stuff of the universe, but what about the the other possibilities before this one was selected? How malleable is my present reality? Why do I think, with the proof of constant exchange of energy in the universe, that any shifts will take a long time and require a lot of effort, even when in fact I know better from personal experience and have come to grasp this scientific fact intellectually?

I suspect what takes a long time and a lot of effort is to unlearn all the notions I hold about how the universe works and my place in it. And yet, its a simple as making room for a new thought. I won't even begin to contemplate things at the physical end of the spectrum. Things like my desk, my car etc because I think creation begins with thought and expectation before the trickle down effect is observed here and now as a desk or a car. They are merely a byproduct of a much more fulfilling process and that is active co-creation with the flow if energy that makes up our reality.

For example, I had lots of thoughts about my new home. I imagined it over and over again. I knew the features that would make it my dream. We weren't even prepared for a move when I began to allow my imagination to play with the idea. We are now ready and - poof - there it is. When we began to take action, we had lots of clarity about what we were looking for and a very vague idea about where we wanted to be located. As soon as we added the action ingredient, it all fell into place with minimal effort. Every detail perfect, many of which I hadn't even thought about. That, for me is powerful evidence of how I participate with the universe to create my reality.

When I consider the successful keys to this creation I realize that it has several things in common with other times when I have felt entirely in sync and attracted something into my life. The first being a clear intention, backed up with no sense of doubt. Well, perhaps occasional doubts but ones that were quickly resolved or released. In fact, the speed of creation was proportional to the amount of doubt I had. When I wavered in my conviction, change slowed down to accomodate my doubts.

I wasn't attached to the outcome. I let go of a specific time frame or precise criteria. I may have had a vague idea but I didn't feel like I was deadline driven. Focus on details or deadlines and attachment to them also seemed to slow things down and pushed me quite far away from a sense of flow and into a state that was much more fearful and had a strong sense of scarcity about it - not enough time, money, or something along those lines. The moment I let go, it would all begin to flow again and I have been amazed at how truly perfect the timing was in retrospect.

This observation is clearly linked to just how my beliefs would affect the process. If I didn't feel a sense of trust and abundance or felt threatened somehow, things would slow down until I once again felt my beliefs align with what was in the process of being created or what was being created shifted to align with those new beliefs. Other beliefs that affected the process had to do with how deserving I was to have my creation become real; how comfortable I was in letting go of "how" and simply trusting that it would happen.

Which brings me to another component, and that is action. So much about creation is about willingness to participate. Its not enough to wish, hope, dream or imagine. There comes a point where the rubber hits the road and some action is required. What is different about action from my past experiences is that it isn't necessarily about creating a plan and working it. For sure this process works well but I've often found it to be very slow and incremental in nature. Things seem to happen with much more ease, for me at least, when I have the compass co-ordinates rather than a detailed map. I get suspicious when I have a full map in my head because it means one of two things - either I've been here before, which makes this destination less about creation and more about revisitation - or else I'm following someone else's steps, which once again, is not representative of my personal participation in creating with the universe. Stepping into a creation with only the compass points opens up an incredible adventure with all kinds of short cuts and at other times, interesting detours, all of which ensures a unique and deeply meaningful end result.

It might be assumed that I'm speaking only about wonderful events or material things and that is not at all the case. I'm quite clear that I create synchronistic events as much as the physical elements of my life. I am equally clear that my process of creation works just as well for those things that I think I don't want in my life as it does for the more desirable things!

The process is identical with the main exception being that those less desirable creations were created when I operated from habit or beliefs that really didn't serve me so well. And still, they were brilliant creations. They issued big invitations to take a hard look at what my beliefs were creating. They woke me up from a stupor and forced me to take charge of my life or else go back to sleep until the next big bump in the road. Finally, they reinforced that there are no limits to my creativity!

The Woman In The Mirror

Who is the woman in the mirror? The metamorphosis of pregnancy is nothing short of amazing. Everyday something shifts and changes. And, well, ummmm -I think my ankles may have disappeared! My husband reassures me they are still there even though they are no longer part of my view from "up here'!

In truth, the woman in the mirror has been shifting for quite some time before pregnancy began to accelerate physical changes. In the past year I have been startled to discover that my hair has a natural wave in it. All my life I believed that I had fine, straight hair. I never considered that it might change, or even that I might be wrong. I've been going to the same stylist for a couple of years. A few haircuts ago, he used a diffuser to dry my hair and I looked like I had one of the perms I used to fork out all kinds of money for back in the 80's hey day of BIG hair! I was astonished. So was he - he assumed that I knew that my hair had some natural curl since he was always aware of it. Go figure!

Not long after that, I was purchasing some new make up. As the make up artist appraised me with a keen eye, she remarked on my "hazel" eyes and how much green there was in them. I thought she was nuts! "I have brown eyes", I stated coldly, thinking she was a loon. Wrong again! Looking in the mirror with her and actually seeing myself, I was flabbergasted to realize she was right. There is green in my eyes. They are not the true brown I had always assumed they were. Who is this impostor?! I felt like the world had tilted just a bit. Slightly dizzy, I made my purchase and wandered out of the store.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally decided that it was time to go and see my optometrist. I had been getting headaches, having trouble focusing and my contacts were driving me nuts. I figured my eyes must be getting worse. In fact, the opposite is true. My prescription has improved radically. In fact, its quite possible based on the trajectory of improvement that I won't need glasses within a year's time. There she is again - that chameleon woman!

I'm sure at this point my WEL-Systems buddies are chuckling! My quest over the past four years was to discover who I really was. Who is the "Me" that lives underneath all the masks, the rules, the old beliefs that were never mine to begin with but acquired along the way? Its no coincidence that the part of the body that corresponds to this question and carries so much information is around the eyes.

How amazing that as I discover mySelf -who I am at my core, that I discover all the things I have assumed about my appearance are actually subject to change. That what I have been seeing in the mirror is just an image constructed by habit. That when I look closely at my physical self, I have hair with a wave waiting to be set free, eyes with green flecks and likely won't be wearing glasses in another year.

Reading Lori's new blog, I've been really thinking about my own struggle with weight and my current fragile self-image as pregnancy progresses. I cannot actually recall any point in my life when I didn't look in the mirror and expect myself to be anything other than overweight. People have been telling me I was chubby since at least Grade 1, if not before. I started dieting when I was in Grade 4 or 5 and the cycle has continued. Even when I look at photos of when I was thin and athletic looking, I know that in my heart of hearts I was terrified of the moment when the weight would come back. I felt like a fraud. I was often desperate to not let anyone know that, deep down, I knew I would fail. Failure in the weight loss game is not something that can be hidden. Its right there for all to see. Oh the shame when all the positive compliments would fade. I was ashamed when I would receive them too. I "knew" I was a fat girl, in spite of current appearances. I had built a sure-fire trap for myself

In light of all this, I am realizing with incredible clarity, deep down in my very cells, that my habitual way of seeing myself has been the culprit all along. The woman in the mirror has changed in some fundamental ways. My habitual way of seeing myself got in the way of truly seeing who I have become. Its become impossible not to notice how what I once held as unchangeable has in fact changed significantly.

What happens when I begin to really see myself as future possibility rather than a reflection of all my past? What happens when I stop looking back all together and just focus on this moment, and the next, taking the steps into who I am becoming and not retracing the well-worn steps back to who I was? How free can I be if I discover how to stand alone here, unswayed by the opinions, real and imagined, of others? What do I see when I stop looking through the distorting lens of habit? I suspect there are many more surprises in store for the woman in my mirror! I'm looking forward to continuing to discover myself as the outside continues to become more and more I reflection of the real "me".

PS: Thanks for sharing your new blog, Lori!

A Glorious Buffet

Okay, I confess, I have a problem with commitment! Not in my relationships but in more imaginative places like hobbies, interests and career aspirations. At 38 years old, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up! And, I'm finally okay with that. You see, I don't think I could ever capture everything that is exciting, meaningful and intriguing to me under one banner.

I love being a Mom. I love working in the fields of physiotherapy and human potential. I love writing. I read subjects as varied as quantum physics, cooking, creative writing, business guides, and loads of fiction - you name and it can likely be found in my personal library or I've begged or borrowed it from somewhere. I write about all kinds of things that catch my fancy. This blog has become fertile grounds for just that. My other blog, has more a focused context but draws heavily on what for a long time felt like very separate interests that are now coming together in very interesting and exciting ways.

For quite some time I had struggled with what I considered a lack of focus in my life and my interests until I finally realized just how limiting this belief is. I have concluded that I don't have adult ADD, although I have clients try to convince me that I did - largely because that is how they made sense of their own similar tendencies and had judged something to "wrong" with them! Although my interests are varied, I pursue each of them with similar passion. The fact that I'm not easily pigeon-holed is not really my concern at all. In fact, I've found it quite interesting to see the the incredible links that connect what often seems like divergent interests.

About a week ago I was really drawn to a book by Barbara Sher, Refuse to Choose. I bought it and read it over an afternoon and quickly realized that I had come to a similar conclusion on my own but she had done a great job of explaining that contrary to popular opinion and widely held beliefs, there are lots of people who function this way. She used the term "scanners" to describe those of us who have multiple interests and give ourselves permission to pursue them with passion and leave them behind when they have served their purpose for us.

I found myself thinking about how many people deny themselves the opportunity to explore and play because they have held some of the beliefs I used to hold about mastery, perfection, focus, stick-to-it-iveness, you fill in the blank. What a waste of potential! There is an incredible smorgasbord of experience available for the taking - if we are willing. I'm sure that left to our own devices, we would all be child-like in our thirst and capacity for exploration. What a shame that it becomes labelled an anomaly for adults, creating fertile grounds for a best-seller that finally grants us permission to be ourselves. What if we were to give ourselves permission rather than waiting for it to be granted by an "expert"? Gasp, the possibilities are endless!

I have made my peace with shelves of half-read books and partially completed projects. I have learned to walk away from all-consuming passions when they ceased to be fulfilling anymore. It hasn't been easy at times and yet, the price of staying with them when all the passion has disappeared is far to much. Who wants to cart around a dead horse like guilt or an obligation to finish what we have started - better to recognize it's dead, and move on, reinvesting energy in other places.

Moving into this phase of my life, I doubt my commitment "issues" will resolve! In fact, my commitment to what has meaning and value in my life is unwavering - its that those things are in a steady state of evolution. In the words of Maya Angelou, "Life is a glorious banquet, a limitless and delicious buffet." Eat up, I say!

Round & Round She Goes.....

I spent yesterday revelling in having the house to myself. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed simply putting everything in its place and restoring order. I was overwhelmed with gratitude at the simple things in my day. I was also very aware that much of my enjoyment stemmed from the fact that I know this is a temporary situation. In a few months the luxury of long stretches of time to myself will be replaced by days filled with adjusting to a new baby and getting ready to move. That will bring joy of a different sort. Today, feeling the comfort of clear spaces and obligations met, I am ready to sit back and enjoy my favorite blogs and catch up on my own.

I read Lucy's blog today and was struck by our parallel struggles about whether to paint or not. I've been back to my old habit of side stepping the urge to paint too. I understood her hesitation because she might be disappointed with the results in spite of the inner promptings that were pointing her to her paints and brushes.

In her words I recognized my own familiar dance with creativity and a desire for perfection and mastery. Underneath it all is fear. Fear of failing, of being judged, of being disappointed ... or god forbid, disappointing someone else! Perfectionist's paralysis sets in and then look out - all that pent up creative fire erupts in the most unproductive of places!

Whether it is painting or writing, my little dance goes on. Although, I must say that I am much more apt to catch it when it affects my writing.Things go south quite fast in other aspects of my life if I don't write something somewhere every 24 to 48 hours. Not writing is like holding my breath for too long. It tends to leave me agitated and disoriented. I become disconnected from mySelf.

In spite of all the things its offers me, I continue to demand more from my writing. It is another clue to a long buried belief that continues to be excavated. A belief that says that it is not enough to do something that is valuable to me and for me - it must be seen as valuable by some external mirror. And notice, that like a good girl, I did my housework yesterday - acckkkk!! I have to chuckle, 'cause its not like any one is paying me to blog and write in my journal and poke away at my book. In fact, I'm not even sure that anyone else cares to read my ramblings! What I am sure of is that it gives me great pleasure to create them - particularly in the public domain.

Hmmm .... perhaps I am more of an exhibitionist than I realized! There is certainly something to be said for writing in a forum where I know my inner conversations become public. It leverages my own growth in a way that not much else does. Funny though, I never realized that I had levels of security present in my disclosures until an incident that occurred this morning which left me in a real spin. I forgot my journal at Starbucks and discovered it was missing several hours later. I raced back imagining a bunch of snickering barristas hovering over it, making jokes. Or worse, other coffee shop patrons glancing warily in my direction when I came to claim it - gathering their children close to their sides as the crazy lady picked up her private thoughts that had laid bare for all to see. Of course none of that happened. My journal was sitting where I had left it, and I'm sure based on tacit coffee shop etiquette, it is unlikely that anyone even sat in that comfy chair, thinking that the journal owner had reserved the space and was due to return any moment. Be still, my racing heart!

Oh so much more to discover about the division between public thoughts and private thoughts, public and private conversations, about what is safe and what is dangerous for me in my disclosures, - about the paradox that is often my life. As I make my way through the maze of those discoveries, I know I move closer and closer to the truest expression of mySelf and 100% authenticity.

As usual, I have invited these discoveries into my awareness at a very timely point in my evolution. A friend/colleague has invited me to be a guest on her nationally aired health segment on a daytime show that apparently out ranks both Martha Stewart and the Gill Deacon Show in ratings. I am enchanted and terrified in equal measure. I know it is one of those things in life that I simply cannot pass up. In fact, in my own crazy way, I know that I'll do it - but can still feel the part of me that is lagging behind in getting on board with the process. Its the same part of me that feels the shame of judgement about my most private thoughts shared with my journal only. It is the same part of me that had been cringing for most of last week in anticipation of my OB appointment today and was proven correct at hearing that I had gained 4 pounds in 4 weeks - twice as much as I "should" based on OB guidelines - tsk, tsk.

And so folks, round and round she goes...where she'll stop - nobody knows! I think this is my cue to take a few more breaths and just paint!! Something is on the move inside me and it defies language at the moment.

Finding My Place

I find myself wandering through the house today looking for a place to settle in. I feel over run and seeking the solitude I can usually find in spades during the week.

My 16 year old nephew is here much to my son's delight! He truly worships his big cousin. I really couldn't ask for a more patient and caring nephew. He takes my little emperor's demands right in stride! They are currently in the basement deeply involved in car racing games and my husband, scenting the testosterone in flow, is repeatedly drawn down there for a game or two himself. Even the dog has opted for all the action over his usual position under my desk as a furry, snoring foot warmer.

Alas, my desk. Its gone now, making room for the the crib and change table. I had converted our spare bedroom into a cozy office space for just these kinds of days. It now sits stripped bare and awaiting redecoration and re-assignment. I have been spending more time writing in the kitchen which is nearly always flooded with light but its turning out to be a very impractical space for my computer. I am constantly shuffling back and forth with the competing needs for the hub of our house. That space doesn't belong to me alone, it only feels like it for short periods of the day.

What I am seeking is a space of my own. A place I can come and go from. A centre and a base where creative thoughts are born and nurtured. Most days, that space has little to do with anything other than the space I carry around inside. There are many days when I can happily sit in the middle of the din of everyday life without losing a single thread of thought. Today, however, I am aware that sometimes what I need is a physical space that allows me to honor what is moving through my creative veins.

I have established a new writing space. I reclaimed the old desk and dumping ground that was our media room but I still feel like it lacks my mark. I feel like an awkward visitor when I sit here to write. At least it is now tidy and organized and that makes it much more inviting. Today, when I sat down to write, I lit a candle, popped on my headphones to drown out the washing machine whirring away in the next room and the exuberant shouts from downstairs. There is still something missing though....ah, that's it! I have just dug through one of the packed boxes from my office and found my little Buddha statue. I'm not a practicing Buddhist but the site of him perched on my spartan desk makes it feel a little more like my space.

I've been thinking a lot about the space and place for my writing practice as my due date approaches. I'm not at all surprised by my sense of rootlessness today as it has been building in my awareness over the last few months. My restlessness isn't just about writing - I wonder who I will become as a mother to this child and how that will compare to my motherhood journey so far. I wonder if I will lose sight of writing in the blur of sleepless nights and full days. I wonder what life will be like when we move into our new home and what space I will claim for my own there.

I feel the pressure of days ticking down and feel frustrated that my book is not any where close to completion. It is just a tumble of thoughts without coherence. I had thought it would be done before the baby arrived but it simply doesn't look like that. I suspect the birth of a book is much like the birth of a child - but the pregnancy can be much longer and more unpredictable! I wonder if it will ever reach completion - and if it doesn't, will I judge it as failure or simply embrace it as part of my journey so far. And why am I so tied to a time frame anyway?!?

I wonder.... and while its well and good to wonder and wander in the future, I am clear that right now is where I exist. This is all I can affect. Simply living in the present and discovering that I can create the time and physical space to write in , whenever and wherever I am. That offers me great hope and inspiration moving forward. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly excited to have a new child coming into my life but I would be lying if I didn't say that I'm just a little concerned that I will lose some of myself in the process. This was my experience last time and, come to think of it, it was a great gift. That sense of loss was the catalyst to discover and reclaim even more of myself.

I wonder if other mothers or mothers-to-be have this conversation with themselves. It feels like a lonely one and not one greatly encouraged. I sometimes bump smack into the beliefs I carry about appearing ungrateful for the miracle that this child is. I realize that motherhood and martyrdom can often walk very close together, although few would dare call it that. There seems to be an expectation of society at large that says mothers need to sacrifice and be long suffering. I find that very hard to buy into intellectually, although I seem to have absorbed its message along the way and its realization invites big waves of energy rippling through my body. How does unspoken misery and unrequited dreams translate to loving, meaningful relationships?

It seems that finding my place is as much about creating a physical space in my home that is just for me, as it is about creating the internal space for me to be the fullest expression of me -the mother, the writer, the wife/sister/daughter/friend, the dreamer ..... my Self. And now there is a warm, furry body squeezing into the space under the new desk as the dog abandons the excitement downstairs - and the baby is kicking. Yup, all is right in my world - I have claimed a space that is mine and the writing is easy!

The Magic Kingdom

My son is at the stage where he is learning phonics and how the sounds come together, merge and make these marvelous things - words, that you can then use to build sentences. This is truly magical! In fact, it has restored my absolute wonder and delight with language as I re-experience the world through the eyes of a 5 year old.

Just think, three simple letters...M...A...N. Put them together and you have a word that gives us at least rudimentary sketch of something. Something those of us who communicate in English can understand. And its only a sketch, we can colour it in however we like. The possibilities feel endless.

For example I could use this piece of the sketch as a part of the following:

"Man! I can't believe the G- force this spaceship has when we drop the hammer" remarked Adam the space ranger.

Or how about:

"Man, woman and child filed reverently through the temple doors, entering the antechamber perfumed with the scents of burning sage and sweet grass and drawn forward by the hope promised by the mystery within. "

Or even,

"The man stood alone, tears snaking through the furrows around his mouth carved by the grief he could never express, dissolving the mask that had been held in place all those years."

Gosh the possibilities are truly endless! Three letters, ...one syllable, ....one noun forming a quick sketch for us to pour all the creative licence that we can muster into it. A canvas with only one speck of colour just waiting for us to pick up the brush and make it our own. I feel like I found the key to some magical realm all over again!

Language, has the potential to evoke so much within. What lies within is different for each of us and yet we have enough common ground to share a part of that experience. How is it that the symbols that we call letters can penetrate beyond our mind and evoke such feeling, such sensation? If I ever held any doubt about our power to create, it vanishes in the face of the wonder language holds.

Out of the Mouths of Babes!

A not so recent conversation with my son:

L: I thinks its time to get rid of Spuddy. (referring to our dog)
Me: Why?
L: I want to trade him for a baby sister like Ben has.

A more recent conversaton:

L: When's the baby done?
Me: July
L: And then when does it go back?
Me: Back where?
L: Inside you.
Me: Well, you were a baby in Mommy's tummy once and you aren't going back in, right?

Reflective silence .... I suspect he is thinking about the fact that a baby is a permanent thing...me, I'm feeling relieved that no one is going back in....its hard enough getting them out in the first place!

The End of Innocence

I'm sure if asked directly there would be very few parents who would willingly and openly acknowledge a desire to end the innocence of their children. And yet, what I keep seeing is how deep the coma is for many parents as they thoughtlessly expose their children to adult situations and adult content.

The beginnings of this rant have been a long time coming. This particular horse that I am riding is not the one of deliberate destruction of childhood innocence that seems to be provoked by adults who, having lost their own innocence and sense of wonder far too early in life, seek and destroy it in the children around them. Seeking to slake their thirst, these monsters were someone else's victims and the cycle continues with horrifying results. We are familiar with these stories as they are in the news, the subject of numerous TV dramas and may have even touched our own lives - but this is not what this post is about.

This post is about the subtle way that parents erode the innocence of their offspring. And I must confess, I find this even more puzzling than outright molestation. It is subtle, unintended and I believe just as harmful. It sets children up with adult information long before they can fully understand how to manage this information. They are put at risk by their literacy in adult content.

What really sparked my disbelief and outrage was a date night with my husband on Friday. We decided to go and see a newly released movie. The rating was 14+ and as we sat and watched the credits roll and the patrons leave we were astonished at how many families with children well under that age were present with their parents. I'm talking about a 5 to 8 year old crowd. Given the graphic content and innuendo in this movie, we couldn't imagine exposing our own 5 year old to this type of content. I know he would have had questions and been confused by more than one scene.

Although I believe in open communication, I don't believe that it is enough to have open conversations with children at this age about what they see in movies that were not intended for their viewing anyway. This is largely because the context set in a movie is either pure fantasy or well beyond their current capacity to make sense of their own body responses and subsequent confusion. Children are marvelous in their capacity to absorb information and make sense of their worlds but our mixed messages about what is okay for entertainment become scrambled and conflict with what is not okay outside of the realm of entertainment. Entertainment that comes in the form of movies, cartoons, music, television and conversations that they are pivvy to.

And just when did gratuitous violence become entertainment anyway? My husband was recounting an experience he had while shopping in a video game store when a child of about 7 or 8 years old was crying and pleading with the sales clerk as he wanted to purchase a copy of Grand Theft Auto. The clerk refused to sell it to him. The clerk was explaining to the boy and his parents that there was an age restriction due to the extremely graphic violence in this particular game. My husband was completely shocked when the parents cast aside this information and joined their child in pleading for the clerk to make the sale to their child. Shouldn't it be a clue when the very store/clerk that earns its living from selling games is telling you, "this one isn't appropriate for your child"?!

I have to wonder how many of these children are the same ones that are medicated, labelled as classroom problems, and later become aggressive and/or promiscuous to the point where their parents are struggling and failing to keep them safe. How many of these children become easy targets for those that are looking to prey on what is left of their innocence? The desensitization has begun. They are familiar with sex and violence as part of life and at times seem unable to fully separate fantasy and reality.

It has been a tenant in scientific circles that children are in a hypnotic state until around the age of 5 as part of their process for learning and discovery. This means that they are both highly impressionable and pretty much set on receive mode with little opportunity to critically evaluate the sensory information that they are being bombarded with. The bits of information that their bodies are unable to assimilate and metabolize, stay with them, often for years, awaiting a time when they can be integrated and metabolized in the body. This is true for all of us and yet, until the moment of metabolization, these pockets of stored information can influence many of our future experiences, sometimes causing us to respond in ways that make very little sense to us and possibly in ways that are not supportive of who we are in the process of becoming. Perahaps this is the place where fantasy and reality begin to meld, losing their edges and influencing behavior. Knowing this, why would we choose to add anything further to our children's legacy?

I have to wonder about the parents in all of this. Have we simply grown lazy ourselves? Is it just easier to say "yes" repeatedly rather than suffer through the multitude of challenges that a refused child can throw our way? Are we more invested in being a friend than being a safe-haven for our children. I believe that as much as I want to be friends with my child, his well- being is my responsibility. As much as he is an authority on his own experience, it is up to me to stand between him and the rest of the world, opening the space in which he can explore gradually and with the knowledge of safety and support. It isn't always easy and I sometimes find that in being a loving parent, our friendship suffers some ups and downs, however, I can always be relied on. My relationship as Mom trumps my relationship as friend. He will have lots of friends throughout his life but I'm his Mom.

Maybe it is that parents are wrestling with their own fatigue and the coma inducing affects of a life of disconnection. If we aren't able to see and feel clearly for ourselves, it becomes very difficult to build the observation and rapport skills that are essential aspects of parenting. If we are seeking to fit in and feel uncomfortable in our own skins because of experiences in a peer group from the past, then we begin to parent from our own unresolved issues and overlook our child's unique needs. It is not acceptble for to us to live vicariously through them and yet how often is that the case? We need to understand how to honour our own internal references and stand firm in our authenticity, acting independently in the face of the many external reference points that exist. I believe this is how you set about teaching your child how to stand alone in the face of peer pressure.

How much of parenting is influenced by guilt? Stressed out, busy parents who are unable to give to themselves and have even less to give to their children will often over compensate for their absence, opting to fill it instead with stuff. Guess what, kids know the difference! Just like you do. It may require you to take stock of your own life to change this situation. Having a clear set of priorities that are meaningful for you is the key. Not priorites that belong to someone else but ones that actually mean something to you as an individual. In stopping to take stock, you will likely be quite amazed at how many of these priorities are not actually your own.

You can't give what you haven't got - as motivated as you might be. It begins with you as a person. Not you as a parent, wife, former geek or cheerleader. It is who you are underneath the labels and masks, underneath the expectations and disappointments in your own life. When you are willing to face and claim those aspects of yourself, you can emerge from the coma of habituated responses that sound like your mother's or that seem to keep you on a treadmill in your life and by extension, in your family. Change begins with you first and then, it is my fervent hope that change will come for our children too.

Children have a right to the space that innocence and wonder create. Its never too late to recapture our own sense of wonder and discovery and by extension, hold open that precious space for our children. They can become wise without the loss of innocence. Its time to look closely at our own motives that rush them into maturity and prematurely brings about the end of their innocence.