Archive for January, 2010



I have just committed to the biggest boldest leap off the cliff of my lifetime.

Some will barely notice the ripple of it.

Some will not notice at all.

The paper heart carrying Tin Man found his own tenderness.  The hero’s medal gracing the neck of the Cowardly Lion placebo-ed him into the courage he’d always been.  The Straw Man’s knowing was to be had all along.  They all came together to get Dorothy back to Kansas.

My courage, heart, and brains have boldly come together.  Each has poked her head out the hidey hole now and again…never for long and never simultaneously.  Now they have unified to bring me home.

I have lept.  I will fly or die.  I have no intention of dying.

I have been back in Kansas for a while. 

Now I know why.

Some will barely notice the ripple of it.

Some will not notice at all.



Lists of things to do

Not lists of things I don’t have done

Lists of things that feed

  My body

  My vision

  My soul

Lists living into the future

Not lists of condemnation and guilt from the past

Lists of possibilities

Lists of opportunities

Not lists of should

Bucket lists, dream lists, vision lists

Action lists, passion lists

Not hope lists, maybe someday lists

Juicy lists, drippy I can’t wait lists

I can’t wait to get up in the morning to start my day lists

Artist date lists

How can I share my joy, my me with somebody else today lists

How can I give back lists

How can I honor Mother Earth and Father Sky lists

Gratitude lists of community

Gratitude lists for challenging, even fearful opportunities

Gratitude lists of simple pleasures

Lists of gratitude lists

They are all gratitude lists

and so it is

These Are My Children

My children and grandchildren have a heart for others, expect the best in others.

My children fight/speak/care for and honor the children.

My children call me, their mother, to be and do my best.

Adrian is making artful smart enduring functional homes for people.  He questions and questions and questions and stands firmly by his knowing.  He has a wicked sense of humor.  Fadder Joe even thinks so.

Jarad is counseling farmers and rancher in the care of their stock.  He is teaching them that a man’s word and a handshake still mean something.  He is busting through his fears and insecurities to build a solid family with and for his wife and children.  He has encouraged his children to play and taught them to play well.

Julie is helping teachers teach, students question, individual students believe in themselves.  She is redefining “family” successfully.  She is guiding a brilliant creative child in a safe and playful environment.

Jamie is mothering independent questioning creative loving children…in her home and in her work. She is breaking traditional moulds.  She is standing on her own, through skinned knees with little support; yet she stands…and laughs with them.

These are my children.


Three weeks today since I’ve written here.

My baby brother died.  He died on Christmas Eve.  “Awww”, you say.  And the guilt comes at the final acceptance that I dare to make it about me.  Yet it is about me…again.  It is still and always about me.

Hank is gone.  That is, his physical presence is gone from this particular life.  His spirit is alive and well; I have no doubts; we’ve talked.

I could eulogize him here.  I could tell you about his childlike sweetness and total lack of guile.  I could tell you how much I wish I’d called him every time I was in his town and didn’t.  I could tell you how I wish I’d listened better when he spoke.  I could tell you how I wish I’d made more effort to invite him to my home.

Or I could tell you about our conversations since Christmas Eve.   I could tell you just and only what I want you to hear… the nice stuff.  I could choose to just tell you the nice stuff.

It has been my habit, by cultural and parental training, to just talk about nice stuff. ..until I either explode at someone inappropriately or just hide so no one sees me angry, hurt, sad, lost, in pain…mostly I hide.

Today I am out of my hidey-hole bringing the anger, sadness, loss, and pain with me.  I bring these very real emotions to the light of day.  I bring them to you the reader not to be fixed, but to be acknowledged.   Like the cat bringing her kill for you to see.  She isn’t asking you to change the state of the dead bird.   She is sharing with you her ‘catness’.   I am sharing with you my humanness.

That’s all.  And it is enough.

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