gratitude

Ant and the Universe

/ autumncircles / 1 Comment

Once upon a time, there was a mostly happy ant who lived in a mostly happy sector of the universe.

The ant had everything it needed to live its happy little life – a home, plenty of sweets and other ants to love and be loved by.

Being a part of the universe was very important to this ant and more often than not, the ant felt very strong and capable to participate in all that needed to be done to keep the universe going.

There were moments though, when the ant’s faith faltered.  The ant seemed to get a glimpse outside of its universe to see the bigger universe in which it also lived.

That was scary for this little ant.  It made the ant want to huddle up within its home, hide all of its sweets and not let the other ants it loved and was loved by out of its sight.

That, of course, was not possible.  The ant had work to do to help keep its home and it had to share its sweets in order to continue receiving them.  The ant’s loved ones had their own lives, too, no matter how old they were or how much the ant loved them or they loved the ant.

The ant understood this in its head, but sometimes the ant’s feelers would get confused and the ant’s feelings would by-pass the head down to the very center of its trunk.  Then its trunk would begin to ache and try to send feelings back to its feelers for guidance.

The ant’s head would get in the way and not let the feelings out.  They would bottle up behind the ant’s eye and as a result, its pinchers would tighten and its claws would sharpen.  Tight pinchers and sharp claws made it difficult for the ant to work to keep its home, enjoy its sweets and even love and be loved.

This happened off and on for the ant over many years of living in its universe.  And being so small, a few days or hours could seem like a lifetime for this ant.  It was during these times the ant would get very lonely and wonder if it really belonged in its home or deserved its sweets.  The ant went so far as to question the love that was in its life.

But the ant was not able to express how lonely it got  and would only ask these questions inside, not to other ants.  For when the ant got so very lonely and felt so very small, its fear of not being happy at all anymore was stronger than its trust in the greater good of its life.

The ant would go to bed each night and try to remember all of the wonderfulness it had in its life and universe.  It would wake up each morning hoping to remember that its home was safe, its sweets were precious and its love divine.

Usually the universe helped the ant and gave tiny ant-sized signs to remind it that it was, is and always will be a most beloved and integral part of not only its universe but also the universe in which its universe lived.

And the one beyond that, too.

Open Thank You Letter to the Dixie Chicks

/ autumncircles / 4 Comments

Natalie Maines.

Emily Robison.

Martie Maguire.

Three women I have never met yet who were instrumental in my survival during some dark days in my marriage and life.  Their voices and words from three albums in particular – Wide Open Spaces, Fly, Home – were on constant repeat mode in my iPod with my headphones plastered to my ears for nearly a year or longer back in late 2002 and all of 2003.

IMHO, Marriage is a journey with two people who at the base of their relationship love each other in such a profound way as to commit to share the rest of their lives together.  Sometimes the journey takes the couple to exotic locations where their minds and bodies become like intensely familiar entities who have been connected long before they met in this life.  Other times, the road darkens and couples get separated and lost in a dense jungle of terrifying emotion and doubt.  Mostly, I have discovered, the path is more like a hike up a favorite mountain trail – a bit rocky and steep at points but with long stretches of open terrain where we simply walk together holding hands, and now, leading our family.

It was during one of our trips to what seemed like the deepest part of the Congo where even breathing was difficult that I discovered the Dixie Chicks.  I had not previously listened to them, but heard a song on the radio and knew they understood what I was feeling.  So I bought the CDs in quick succession and played them over and over again alternately weeping, singing at the top of my lungs alone in the car, and dancing with my children in the living room.

It was as if their music was sent to me specifically at that time as an outlet for all of the unexplainable emotions my heart was breaking from.  They let me sing with them even though I had no idea how to join in a harmony or even match their melody.  When I sang with the Dixie Chicks, I was singing pure emotion and it was perfect.

I was reminded of this time in my life when I recently rediscovered my long forgotten, battery impaired iPod.

I was also sent others in this sisterhood who were not abstract voices purchased at the music store, but real women who had been to similar jungles, loved and survived their own harrowing trips and clung to my side, holding me up until I once again believed I could stand on my own.

I am still married and am grateful for it. I love my husband and am so glad we both decided to come out of the jungles together to proceed on our trek through some wondrous countryside that we might have missed had we given up.

I am, also, grateful for all of these women, their voices, and my ability to join them in this life.  I continue to meet more amazing women who share my joys, struggles and general love of the whole spectacular rave.

‘Cuz some days you gotta dance…

Am I just not a good parent?

/ autumncircles / 4 Comments

I don’t know if it’s the holidays and my uber-high expectations of what they should be for a family, or if it is the impending financial doom my overworked and under nourished brain keep telling me I am headed for each time I swipe my debit card for yet ONE MORE gift.  Or maybe I am just not a nice person to start with and so when this viral negativity scene begins invading my body on a cellular level – how am I supposed to be able to handle two kids under the age of ten who have absolutely no interest in actually choosing gifts for others that I cannot possibly know what the perfect present may be in a cluster-f^@ked crowded store the Sunday before Christmas?

Clearly, I am not thinking clearly.

Does anyone with two kids, a tight family budget, 40-hour a week job that swing shifts on occasion with her spouse’s and little or no outlet for cranial pressure?

I do not want to be a whiner – one of those people who is not grateful for all the freaking blessings they have but there is little doubt that is exactly what I sound like!

I am re-meeting a great number of friends from my wild and theatrical times as well as those dating back to pre-high school and I have begun the ancient human tradition of comparing my life to what I perceive to be theirs.  Some are living fantastically bohemian lives in the greatest city on earth.  Others are taking fabulous trips to far away lands communing with the most awesome of nature’s creatures.  Mostly I am not really seeing anyone else in the death grips of parenting peril that I seem to have cornered myself into.  Even my own spouse and best friend are embarking on new musical journeys that are extremely promising given their individual and combined talents.

And here I sit – a’wallowing in a made-up mire of mayhem and monstrous envy writing a blog after getting so angry at my children’s apparent lack of adulthood that I threatened to return every gift I had purchased for them and email Santa to do the same.  Not exactly Donna Reed or Claire Huxtable, huh?  Probably closer to Joan Crawford or Norman’s mom…

And there are still three shopping days left…(play sound clip now … )