Crane's bill geranium and 8 miles per hour...
There's that song--"It's that time of year when the world falls in love..." it's a Christmas song. It's an irritating song.
But I have another version that is running through my world right now...It's that time of year when the world falls apart or you have to move again or ..."The pattern runs deep and long. As a wisewoman put it to me--You've buried your two dogs in the past two years. You've had other loss and change along with that. No wonder"...this brings me to the flower and the insanely slow driving speed. I am poised all of the time, unless I remember to breathe, to fight or flight. It's a state of tension, restlessness, tipsy-turvy balance on a too thin fence. It's constant. It's exhausting. It is a powerful survival skill that I've needed. Needed. past tense. Don't need now. But everything in me doesn't know or believe that yet...except when I am in the dirt, literally, pulling the grass that comes up with the poppies and voila! There are the crane's bill geraniums (a.k.a "sweet williams from Pop's Lake) nestled in the side garden. When you rub them between your fingers they smell smoky and tart. Those dear little pink flowers take me right back to the morning sunshine off the backporch at the cabin or better yet, into the warm grass on the road walking the curve away from the lake and into the shadows of the trees, the air full of birdsong and the promise of a perfect day of swimming, reading, napping, visiting, snacking, sharing life...that's what Maude gave me when she planted those on the side of my little cottage and that is what is Healing me out of this habit. That and digging holes for compost and clearing out weeds and tough, stomped on earth in the back garden. Squishy loves it. I have dirt under my fingernails this morning and I am still in my yardwork clothes. They smell of earth.They smell right. It's the most REAL reminder of "This is NOW. This is NOW. This is not then. There will be no orders from a bureaucrat in D.C. telling me I have to uproot two days before the end of school. There will be no standing at the "Goodbye Door" the last day of school for my dog this year. There will be no lies from a Beloved unless I'm the One doing it to myself. Old patterns die hard or they don't and they take energy from the Life of Now. Which brings me to 8 m.p.h. You can imagine what the tension might be doing to my driving habits. It's not pretty. SO the Universe had intervened and I kid you not, every single day, north on 8th Ave NW or 3rd NW going north, there have been the same Ballard Norwegian drivers, old men, both of them, driving vintage 1972 or 1973 Pontiac somethings in front of me, at 8 frickin' m.p.h, carefully stopping at each and every crossing, street, seagull and moving along toward their destination of choice. And me behind them, usually ranting. It keeps happening. I'm sure they have kept me from having accidents or worse. And it's the same guys. same cars. same angels unawares...maybe. I'm sure they'll be out there today, too. Until I get my Breath back. And can put Dougie back into the music machine.
Update on yesterday at school:
* We had a wee class meeting. It was a N.A.B.F.H.D.B.W.N.T.C.A.F.T.U. I love putting stuff like that on the board. It keeps them as occupied as when I give Squishy a Kong, long enough for me to take attendance and deal with any parents at the door and then we can get on with our day (=not a big fat hairy deal but we need to catch a few things up). I was honest with them about what things are looking like on my "end of the year" checklist. I bluntly stated where I expected their help, cooperation, and support. I thanked them for their energy and firm commitment to already behaving as if it were summer. I asked them for permission to plug into that river of power to help me with the end of the year. They seriously said it was okay. Then I took lunch order.
*We had our party yesterday. It was fun for them. When I stepped out from being such a sucker-head, they settled in. You want to know what blew me away. I brought in several games from home that a friend had donated. They had the most fun with Chutes and Ladders, Disney Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, Candyland, and they got out the pattern blocks and wooden cubes and started building stuff. This with the Beatles on in the background, alternating with th soundtrack from the Movie "Winn Dixie" and Curious George. They had a ball. They also brought in their own favorite sodas or drinks and were happy. They still think the Beatles are disco, but I let that go and I was able to complete a series of assessments that needed to be tied up. I went up on the "coool" scale because I know all the words to "Yellow Submarine' by heart. We had round two later in the day. It involved parents bringing in a simple but perfect Ben and Jerry's ice cream treat and I put on the first 18 minutes of National Geog. "Secret of the Titanic". They were enthralled-most of them-and those that weren't curled up with a good book. And I was able to work on some more assessing.
*We even snuck into the chaos that was formerly known as the computer lab and most students were able to publish a title cover page for their narratives. Which are still in progress.
*All of the model ships are up and most of the corresponding descriptive essays. The heading says, "Ships of Dreams"-Where will you sail with your imagination? The models turned out well except I can't stand the use of scotch tape to keep the sails on. Real woodworkers do not use scotch tape.
*Meltdown student got kicked out of his math class right off the bat yesterday and sent where--you guessed it! right back home to my math class. We dealt. He filed. filed some more. Ope! and more filing. ANd then he got to do his math during the first part of our party. Hate it when that happens. No more meltdowns. He was kept close to "home" the rest of the day. These meltdowns don't seem to happen off my watch...and it's not me. Energetically, way inside, I'm feeling like he's feeling. He's an intuitive, an empath. But I have learned how to shield kids from sensing that in me...mostly...until I learn that I can actually BE THAT PEACE in the world, in my day, in my car, in my home, in my bed, in my head, in my breath...time to go smell those "sweet williams' and take Squishy for his morning walk.
There's that song--"It's that time of year when the world falls in love..." it's a Christmas song. It's an irritating song.
But I have another version that is running through my world right now...It's that time of year when the world falls apart or you have to move again or ..."The pattern runs deep and long. As a wisewoman put it to me--You've buried your two dogs in the past two years. You've had other loss and change along with that. No wonder"...this brings me to the flower and the insanely slow driving speed. I am poised all of the time, unless I remember to breathe, to fight or flight. It's a state of tension, restlessness, tipsy-turvy balance on a too thin fence. It's constant. It's exhausting. It is a powerful survival skill that I've needed. Needed. past tense. Don't need now. But everything in me doesn't know or believe that yet...except when I am in the dirt, literally, pulling the grass that comes up with the poppies and voila! There are the crane's bill geraniums (a.k.a "sweet williams from Pop's Lake) nestled in the side garden. When you rub them between your fingers they smell smoky and tart. Those dear little pink flowers take me right back to the morning sunshine off the backporch at the cabin or better yet, into the warm grass on the road walking the curve away from the lake and into the shadows of the trees, the air full of birdsong and the promise of a perfect day of swimming, reading, napping, visiting, snacking, sharing life...that's what Maude gave me when she planted those on the side of my little cottage and that is what is Healing me out of this habit. That and digging holes for compost and clearing out weeds and tough, stomped on earth in the back garden. Squishy loves it. I have dirt under my fingernails this morning and I am still in my yardwork clothes. They smell of earth.They smell right. It's the most REAL reminder of "This is NOW. This is NOW. This is not then. There will be no orders from a bureaucrat in D.C. telling me I have to uproot two days before the end of school. There will be no standing at the "Goodbye Door" the last day of school for my dog this year. There will be no lies from a Beloved unless I'm the One doing it to myself. Old patterns die hard or they don't and they take energy from the Life of Now. Which brings me to 8 m.p.h. You can imagine what the tension might be doing to my driving habits. It's not pretty. SO the Universe had intervened and I kid you not, every single day, north on 8th Ave NW or 3rd NW going north, there have been the same Ballard Norwegian drivers, old men, both of them, driving vintage 1972 or 1973 Pontiac somethings in front of me, at 8 frickin' m.p.h, carefully stopping at each and every crossing, street, seagull and moving along toward their destination of choice. And me behind them, usually ranting. It keeps happening. I'm sure they have kept me from having accidents or worse. And it's the same guys. same cars. same angels unawares...maybe. I'm sure they'll be out there today, too. Until I get my Breath back. And can put Dougie back into the music machine.
Update on yesterday at school:
* We had a wee class meeting. It was a N.A.B.F.H.D.B.W.N.T.C.A.F.T.U. I love putting stuff like that on the board. It keeps them as occupied as when I give Squishy a Kong, long enough for me to take attendance and deal with any parents at the door and then we can get on with our day (=not a big fat hairy deal but we need to catch a few things up). I was honest with them about what things are looking like on my "end of the year" checklist. I bluntly stated where I expected their help, cooperation, and support. I thanked them for their energy and firm commitment to already behaving as if it were summer. I asked them for permission to plug into that river of power to help me with the end of the year. They seriously said it was okay. Then I took lunch order.
*We had our party yesterday. It was fun for them. When I stepped out from being such a sucker-head, they settled in. You want to know what blew me away. I brought in several games from home that a friend had donated. They had the most fun with Chutes and Ladders, Disney Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, Candyland, and they got out the pattern blocks and wooden cubes and started building stuff. This with the Beatles on in the background, alternating with th soundtrack from the Movie "Winn Dixie" and Curious George. They had a ball. They also brought in their own favorite sodas or drinks and were happy. They still think the Beatles are disco, but I let that go and I was able to complete a series of assessments that needed to be tied up. I went up on the "coool" scale because I know all the words to "Yellow Submarine' by heart. We had round two later in the day. It involved parents bringing in a simple but perfect Ben and Jerry's ice cream treat and I put on the first 18 minutes of National Geog. "Secret of the Titanic". They were enthralled-most of them-and those that weren't curled up with a good book. And I was able to work on some more assessing.
*We even snuck into the chaos that was formerly known as the computer lab and most students were able to publish a title cover page for their narratives. Which are still in progress.
*All of the model ships are up and most of the corresponding descriptive essays. The heading says, "Ships of Dreams"-Where will you sail with your imagination? The models turned out well except I can't stand the use of scotch tape to keep the sails on. Real woodworkers do not use scotch tape.
*Meltdown student got kicked out of his math class right off the bat yesterday and sent where--you guessed it! right back home to my math class. We dealt. He filed. filed some more. Ope! and more filing. ANd then he got to do his math during the first part of our party. Hate it when that happens. No more meltdowns. He was kept close to "home" the rest of the day. These meltdowns don't seem to happen off my watch...and it's not me. Energetically, way inside, I'm feeling like he's feeling. He's an intuitive, an empath. But I have learned how to shield kids from sensing that in me...mostly...until I learn that I can actually BE THAT PEACE in the world, in my day, in my car, in my home, in my bed, in my head, in my breath...time to go smell those "sweet williams' and take Squishy for his morning walk.
posted by MihErn @ 4:40 AM
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