Do you see Richard and I are the only one´s clearly happy to be visting the Basilica in Mexico City. They even have the bus that Pope John Paul II rode in cordened off there! We thought it would be the bus to take us to the top of the hill where Juan Diego encountered Guadalupe. Sadly we were wrong and our kids didn´t understand why there was a perfectly good bus sitting there not moving. Notice the scorn in the faces of the señoras, it´s okay, I´ve grown accustomed to it. my kids will never be clean enough, bathed properly enough, hair brushed just so, it´s like being with your mother-in-law. Only she doesn´t speak the same language and she doesn´t live with you so really, who cares! The non-religious, spiritual person that I am, I pray to Guadalupe daily. The mother of all mother´s...I came to discover Mexico and the patron mother at the time in my life I really needed it. Again, how do I get so lucky these innocent gifts keep falling in my lap?
P.S. Betty, I am not moving back until I have to, thankfully that isn´t right now. Let Guadalupe work whatever miracles she wants.
R: I don´t speak Englés? Me: Really? Habla puro en Español? R: No, I don´t speak Spanish. Me: What language do you speak? R: I speak ROARKE! I´m Roarke mommy!! (In his most exasperated, "gee you are really not smart mom!" voice.)
I laughed at how funny I thought he was. What would I call it Roarkish, Roarkese? Suddenly the lightbulb went off and I smashed it over my own head. We are speaking different languages, that is why my 3 year old argues with me...we simply do not understand the language the other person is speaking. How do I make it more clear, I´m speaking English, his native language. How on earth do I speak Roarkese?
Half a dramamine tablet an hour and a half before a dentist visit does not make Roarke go to sleep. He will still force you to pry his mouth open for impressions while you´ve contorted your body to restrain his in a very small dental chair. After that scene, female dentists in Mexico are reasonable, ni modo, come back in six months and we´ll try agin, $150 pesos($10 USD roughly) for impressions. Are you kidding me? These are the most sane dentists I´ve ever met, don´t traumatize a kid and don´t gouge a parent. Half a dramamine does knock Roarke out 3 hours later, into a scary deep sleep, that just isn´t right. He is also sleepy the rest of the day, making for bad attitudes. The cure for that is Martha being in charge an abandoned tire and a steep driveway. Which makes Roarke even more tired, hence, my blogging early. Hooray?!
Second lesson of the day came with the junta for Sebastian´s 2º grade at Los Charcos. I am a terrible Waldorf student. When did I forget to play the flute, the air has to come out just right you know. Simple math like counting by 3´s...there is so much counting while moving your body I get confused, along with the other parents, I am grateful for that. One man said "I just can´t." Can´t what? Do what your kid does everyday? That should be required. We ask so much out of our children, sit down, be quiet, what does this equal, how do you say this..., how would you do that...think, pay attention, look at the world around you, listen to your heart. Shouldn´t we also be prepared to observe their day as they experience it? Now I know why Sebastian´s head wants to explode when he comes home, thinking outside of the box is hard. I´m asking my kids to do it, I should pay them the courtesy of walking with them.
The amazing quote for the day sent to me by Fico and Paloma and corrections from Elsanne, Nelson Mandela didn´t say it Marianne Williamson should receive all the credit for these words that are like a lifeboat; slippery, a bit damp, but safe and surviving.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. Marianne Williamson
Well maybe Playing For Change is not a new movement, but I´ve only discovered it today. My friend and acupuncturist, Sandra, sent this to me this morning, how I needed it. Take a moment and get a box of tissues while you watch this video. Beautiful is the only word I have and enjoy. ">
Well, four hours with eight children by yourself really isn´t so bad. Today we had the mother of all play dates, friends help us when we have hard days, a total of eight kids from ages 8 to 3. What the heck it´s only 5 extra kids, they can all wipe their own bottoms, that is half the battle! Surprisingly there weren´t any terrible moments, Roarke smashed his finger but didn´t you already know he would do something? ¡Viva con gusto! That´s my boy. We had a sad moment though, another little girl´s father lives far away and at that moment she really needed her daddy. So familiar with this scenario I am, what can you do but scoop up a kid and hug them? You can tell the child that your heart can hold oceans full of love and that is where your daddy always is, swishing away with your heartbeat. But that does not make the physical absence any better for the child. You can feel it but not see it? That sucks and how is that fair? I can´t answer that question and I admit to crying openly in front of my children when they cry tears of sadness from loss.
Our family is separated by miles and an invisible border, the kids do not understand what is going on, mommy and daddy love each other, why can´t we all be in the same place? Disjointed living so we can stay in Mexico as opposed to Indiana and still no daddy, again this is not fair and it sucks. But this is our life and everyday I try to encourage beautiful moments to bloom among us, though I´ve killed the grass in this spiritual journey...ah, ni modo as I have become fond of saying. This week, everyone had an opportunity to a mental health day, Isabel was the only one to decline saying "I LOVE SCHOOL!". Just last year she clung to my leg refusing to go to school, this week she was the center of attention for about 7 kids at school, so happy to see her. How life can change in the small space of one year.
Progressing through motherhood and life is my meditation for the day. What we are capable of as women and mothers, the flux of the stages of womanhood and motherhood... Always we are moving foward, definitely with time but also spiritually. I have never been more grateful and more pissed off at the gifts I receive from children and I love them for that. More than that I love the lessons everyday that; people change, situations change, how you can be afraid but it´s the wheel in motion and you cannot stop for fear. How did I ever get so lucky to have all this wisdom put in my lap so innocently?
As the sun went down I noticed a lovely shadow on my bedroom door. I noticed this after Roarke had been shut inside my room screaming for 30 minutes (about a dumptruck he threw about 20 feet that I took it away, in case you´re wondering). After the storm the calm came in shadow shapes. S; for slow,surrender,stop screaming,smile. I stopped, paused to admire and captured the S moment. As the sun sinks into the valley twilight brings; color unimaginably tranquil, cows lowing, crickets still chirping, airplanes coming, shadows of pepper tree fronds, Venus, Jupiter and a crescent Moon, cool air, a moment of peace.
This is really my first hand crafted project as an adult. It will be for sale at the Christmas Bazaar for Los Charcos, it´s my Isabel inspiration. Isabel will get one for Christmas also, I´m on a roll and maybe the craft goddesses are shining down on me! I was pleased with my handwork so I had to show it off.
Maybe this song is so important to me because my kids love it. One day, my kids may cease their constant chatter and ability to speak their hearts to me. Now I complain about the constant stream of conversation in this house, but I hope they will always talk when they do feel like a puzzle that can´t find it´s missing piece.
Two heroes in one room, that is great conversation and bliss for my ears. Bill Moyers this week talks with Michael Pollan. Give yourself time away from whatever your maddening crowd may be to enjoy this interview in two parts.
Hearts, teeth that come out by the roots, and the mother of all mother´s...
Ben´s last sleepover after two years. We are so sad that Ben is moving back to the states, but we are grateful for the years the boys have spent together in Mexico. Thanksgiving is a fitting day of endings and beginnings. We love you Ben and we´ll see you at Legoland!
Well, Roarke lost not one but two teeth. Because he always has to out-do his siblings? Hmm...I´m not sure but he is a fierce risk tasker and the stakes run higher then, don´t they? So today is the first day my three year old woke up looking like a boxer. Here´s how it happened: We went to Los Charcos to put in our time with manualidades, that´s hand crafts for you English speakers, and stop laughing at me because you know my secret that I suck at crafts. The task was to make a lot of piñatas for sale at the Los Charcos Christmas Bazaar. Literally, I was 2 minutes from being finished, we had been there for 4 hours and were ready to go. In those two minutes, Roarke ran outside to play a sort of keep-away game fell and smashed the right side of his face into a tree stump. Out came two teeth, roots still intact.
For those of you that may not know, Sebastian lost his left front tooth in a weird accident November 11, 2001. Seven years and 11 days later...baby brother tops his loss. Did I mention I had a crappy week? Oh yes, there have been many real life saints along the way but something about this loss was the breaking point for me. Really, what are two teeth? Baby teeth at that, you put them under a pillow and the tooth fairy comes, víola, everyone is happy. However, the loss of teeth is following this theme of broken things, to the extreme, in my life. My circuits are overloaded, I need some new circuit breakers, thank you very much.
Iretí, Roarke´s teacher from school, held him on the way to the dentist. How my heart did weep, for Richard and myself. One of us should have been holding him, not just driving. How Roarke did cry; "Mommy, I´m tired! I want to sleep on your shoulder." I drove with precision and speed that I had not encountered before, in Mexico anyway. If I could just get to the dentist, I could hold him and offer comfort. Iretí was a constant reminder to slow down, breathe, everything would be okay, put on a face of tranquility for your child. Everything was okay, no lost life or limbs, no need for panic. Roarke was a champ through x-rays and sitting on my lap and when we were done, this is what he said:
R: "I wanted to loose two teeth, mommy. Will the ratoncito (Mexican equivalent of the tooth fairy) visit me?" Me: "Yes, he will visit you tonight." R: "Can he bring me a wallet?" Iretí: "Well, you know, the rantoncito has been very busy today, maybe he cannot bring a wallet tonight." R: "Oh, okay. Can he bring it tomorrow?" Iretí: "Yes, I think so."
After all that, he really wanted to loose teeth? Isn´t there a better way to earn money, like clean up your toys? Well, at the end of the dentist visit, I just couldn´t keep the dam gates closed anymore. My tears for the week of challenging obstacles became too much and I cried on Betti´s (the Dentist, her full name is Beatrix, the alternate girl name we threw around for Roarke) shoulder...for a week of losses and gains, for Roarke´s lost teeth and bravado, for Richard´s absence, for an amazing community of people that help when you are immobile, for not leaving two minutes earlier.
Later that night, I received two phone calls from Los Charcos parents. They were checking in to ascertain Roarke was doing okay. One conversation was in puro Español, hard for me on the phone, I´m better face to face. How my heart sang to know the other family was concerned for Roarke and offered their support in whatever way I needed. The second phone call was from my friend Paloma. Her words still bring tears to my eyes. The summary of her words were; I realized today what a strong and beautiful woman you are and how glad I am that we are friends. How I needed those words when I felt anything but strong and beautiful. My weakest moments, those beautifully painful human moments, when I just want to sit down and cry, but I cannot. Roarke, I said a few posts ago, you make me grateful for living in the moment...I am, but I am afraid.
How grateful I am that I have this fierce boy, Iretí-the maestra (because she offered me strength when I had none), Betti for her shoulder to cry on, Maestra Lucy and Jose Luis for bringing the lost tooth #2 and the hugs, Richard for talking me out of my 100 foot tree, Anna for conversations in Español, and Paloma. Paloma gave me the greatest gift of all, pure love. I felt anything but brave, it was a moment of ordinary courage, when I felt like a chicken heart. For someone to tell me, it´s okay, you did it...this life has been insane, but today has been okay.
Have you ever had a day when you want a gin and tonic by 9:30 am? No? Consider yourself lucky. That was my day yesterday. Sucky from the moment I stuck my warm sleepy feet on very cold Mexican tiles. The details of the pitfalls of the day aren´t really important, it´s the same story, different details for everyone, the world over. The people that enter your life in a day and offer to give is what matters. I was on the receiving end of so much love and those random acts of kindness...I´m still pinching myself.
Thanking Alex, Ramon and Josh. For taking my kids to school and helping me out of a rut, literally. Thank you Shannon for this kid/husband tested, mother/wife approved song, we love you for bringing us a new family groove! Thank you Bjanetta for all things DIY and being all around amazing woman. Martha, thank you because you are you (and will listen to me tell stories in bad Spanish and make it better). Thank you Richard for being a patient husband. Thank you to my inanimate camera for deciding to work because without it I wouldn´t have been able to capture the following moments.
I was intrigued by Sebastian´s yoga pose and the use of mudras. He said "I don´t know where I learned it. It´s just here, mom." Wow. Yes, Sebastian it really is just here. Thank you to the universe for the day. Out of selfish me moments, I received the lesson that I am small in this life without others.
Stealing massive amounts of oil, the pirate life is still...alive. Richard tells me he found gas for $1.67 in Houston last week, maybe the pirates are helping us? Who the hell knows in this crazy world.
Have, I told you how much I dislike parenting by myself? Just as I am sure Richard hates living in Houston by himself and starting a business from scratch otra vez . The financial disaster of the United States has hit us so hard. If I were to go back to Indiana, Richard still would not be present, there are no jobs for him in Indiana. Houston is too big for my taste right now, one of those "don´t mind to visit, can´t live there." Our life is relaxing and small enough to be manageable here. One thing is missing; Richard, daddy, dad, honey. There is a hole in the fabric of our lives.
Often I have wondered how? How do men and women all over the world parent, sanely, by themselves? Most days I can keep it together, I don´t want to leave my children with images of mommy dearest. Today though, we were getting ready for school after a four day weekend and my patience had trickled down to a drip-drop. Roarke asked for blueberry cereal, when I gave him the blueberry cereal he screamed "I said I wanted cheerios!" Okay three year old indecision, no problem if I have someone to help me diffuse Roarke´s anger. But it´s just me and my head is hot and I think it´s going to explode all over the three lunches I´m preparing. The daily requests, constant changing of minds, constant chatter in my ears, constant questions...I am simply overwhelmed.
How do I continue mindful parenting if all I want to do is run, far and fast. Away from sucky financial situations, a three year old screaming at me and broken things filling up my life. Find a happy place...
We are all healthy, no bouts of salmonella or typhoid (like the first year). The snake I almost stepped on yesterday wasn´t poisonous, or at least chose to ignore me. I love my three wild kids. Each one delivers a gift of wonderfulness to this world daily, Sebastian you are wise and rational when I am not. When I was shrieking about the snake yesterday, Sebastian said: "Next time mom, just get the shovel and whack it." So sensible, not really humane, but it´s a 5 foot slithery snake! Isabel you are so beautifully calm, she goes about her day with her "gems" and makes patterns on table tops, that glitter and make my eyes happpy. Never was there a girl breathing pink and smiles like you, for me. Roarke, un fuerte niño, you help me live in the moment because everything can change so rapidly with you. To all the single parents in this world, you are strong and have amazing courage, knowing you all are there...I feel a little less crazy and a lot less lonely this chilly morning.
Well, the election is over. What a whirlwind ride is was, I´m beyond happy with the choice Americans made. Obama´s election speech was pure beauty and McCain conceeded with graciousness. Let´s move foward. I learned yesterday that Obama speaks Spanish, wow. For me, President Elect Obama just keeps becoming the total package. (This is not to say he will fail, all presidents do, let´s be realists.) When I watched Obama´s ad for Puerto Rico where he spoke Spanish, I felt proud of him. So his accent is mas ó menos, he actually knows another language.
Let´s face it, this world is shrinking. One of the reasons we felt compelled to live in Mexico is for our children. Our children are rapidly becoming native speakers of another language, and it doesn´t stop there...Sebastian wants to speak 5 languages like his maestro. Do it kid, speak, learn to communicate with people from all over the globe, this world needs you to do just that. I watch my children as they chatter away in Spanish with their compañeros and I have no idea what they are saying. My heart glows when I see their ease in communicating with others, laughing with joy, arguing in their second language, explaining what their mother cannot. I am not embarassed of my ignorance, I am proud of my children in their ability to go into the world and be comfortable.
Lately, I´ve been trying to imagine what it must have been like for my great-grandparents to immigrate to the United States and be unable to communicate. I know all to well what it is like, to be frustrated when you don´t have the words in a different language to express yourself. I have placed an enormous task in front of my children to perform and be a citizen of this world. They have adapted and embraced a new language and it is becoming theirs. This is not an easy task, live in abroad for a year where English is not the first language, you´ll find you´ve only touched the tip of the iceberg in that year´s time, it´s very humbling. My great-grandparents must have relied heavily on their children to help them with the nuances of the language, as I do.
Where my ancestors failed though was denuciation of their Sicilian culture and language. After awhile, no one in my Father´s family spoke Italian anymore, because the United States of America required English to be spoken, especially if you were an entreprenuer, which my great-grandparents were. The culture I have lost, the inability to communicate with people that make up 50% of my gene pool (that´s a great portion of the person I am in the "Great American Melting Pot"), makes me throughly irritated. If the United States is so great and such a melting pot, why don´t the majority citizens speak more than one language? Why is it intrinsic that when you become "American " you shed the person you used to be? That seems homogenous and lazy to me.
Well, we can only be the change we seek in the world, my hero Gandhi said it, he was right. I am doing that. I realize I am projecting my fondest wishes on my children, to know many languages, that was my obsession from the age of 12. In my quest for grappling the nuances of more than just English, I hope to serve my children well...that reads, I hope I don´t cause them to have too much therapy later in life. However, if they do have to enter therapy and hash out anger with their mother, currently they will be able to do it in two languages. And that is my Gratitude point for the day, my bi-ligual kiddos.
Just wanted to say, yes my freshly 7 year old son, Sebastian, took the photo at the top. He loved the murals at Kope Cafe in Gulu. That is where he had playtime with his best bud from the age of crawling, his first sip of Coca-Cola (wards off jet lag, you know), first viewing of Invisible Children, first sight of a soldier with a loaded AK-47. Gulu was a time of many firsts for both of us, it was a grand adventure with my oldest. Thanks for a great photo, Bash! Love, your mama
I found this quote in the circular world of the internet from a wonderful site I stumbled upon, Ordinary Courage. This is the quote for the journey I am on right now.
It is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.
Tuesday is one of my favorite days of the week, it means Tiangus! Market day, thrift store heaven, for super cheap IF you are brave enough to elbow in with the Señoras, which I am now. Tomorrow begins Isabel´s 6th rotation around the sun, her birthday...I had to find more pink frilly-ness for my beloved girl. My dear friend Stephanie and her almost 4 month old, Aidan, met me after I scored the perfect leotard that Isabel will have to go to gymnastics in, just to show off. My Stephanie presented me with a letter and a gift. I can´t tell you how much I miss hand written notes since I have no address. (I will get a U.S. address if everyone would send me two hand written notes a month. Okay I´m begging you, please send me mail, I´ll send you mail too. I miss the surprises of a mail box!)
Sorry to digress, Stephanie gave me a lovely letter thanking me for my presence in her life and at Aidan´s birth. What an amazing experience to hold my friend´s hand during birth. She held onto grace chanting "lovelovelovelovelove..." and style holding onto the birthing rope, and cursed like a sailor! I love her all the more for sharing those moments with me. Today, we were sitting down to eat carnita tortas, I am in tears from reading her beautiful letter and I open the groovy little gift bag. Inside are the most fabulous earrings of the mother of all mothers. Guadalupe. In crystal. Redesigned by our friend Lucia. Oh, the circle of women I live in, you are wonderful and amazing. Thank you for the message of love, I needed it and I am more than grateful for your presence in my life. Stephanie´s words and the lovely gift gave me all the strength to go on through the afternoon.
Holy shazzam, what an afternoon it was. I shelled out A LOT of pesos, for customs charges on our Land Rover parts from th U.S., which were still not in San Miguel at 3:30 Tuesday afternoon...the parts were supposed to arrive Friday afternoon, ah, the famous Mexican Aduanas. To wait it out we splurged on 2 for 1 crappy Domino´s pizza, this meanss I don´t have to make lunch tomorrow, hooray,(and it´s not fat-free and gross Elliott)! After pizza, we headed to Parque Juarez to play.
Parque Juarez is an adventure in itself, you never know when there will be a gaping hole in a structure or holes in the fiberglass slides which leave itchy legs. I managed to sit down for about 15 minutes before the first incident, Sebastian fell on his head trying to hang upside down. Fifteen minutes later, Roarke falls on his face from the exact same activity that made Sebastian fall and 2 minutes later Isabel scrapes her ankles hanging upside down, same activity that caused the other two injuries. Great, no one obviously pays enough attention to learn a lesson, why do I come out in public? I give my three children advice to learn from mistakes of others as well as their own and think the worst is over, except that gapping hole in the platform 9 feet above ground. Well, live and learn.
Settling in to talk with the great-grandfather of a kid Sebastian went to school with, suddenly I hear Roarke shrieking "MOMMY!!!" When you hear that you run, fast! At the other side of the playground, my 3 year old has put his head between two bars and is stuck, WTF?! I have no choice but to hop onto the platform and try to help him as a Mexican woman is trying to talk him out of his tree, without success. Can I do anything but laugh at this point? These people do not know Roarke the way I do and this is so apropos but also unexpected, he would be the first one of my brood to figure out how to fix his problem.
Not so today! Suddenly out of nowhere, three men arrive to help me and my guerito out of this predicament. They tried prying the bars apart but finally they discover we can slide his body through sideways and he´s out. Just as quickly as the men came, they disappeared. Surely, I looked like a madwoman shaking my head and chuckling while Roarke is in tears and sobbing on my shoulder. Meanwhile, Isabel and Sebstian have run off TO PLAY. Can you believe that, leave your mother and baby brother in a potential crisis moment? Even though your skills at translation may be needed! How did I rear such selfish humans? Damn, I really have to learn the subtle nuances of the language better. How do you ask a person to cut the bars off your child´s head in Spanish anyway?
The last incident at Parque Jaurez was Sebastian banging his knee coming down the 9 foot fire pole. While his knee was badly bruised it didn´t require an emergency room visit for a broken leg, thank goodness. At this point, I´m done with the park outing! I just want my blasted car parts so I can go back to the country where we only have to deal with ant bites and espinas in the feet, city living is for the caged birds and that does not include my children (or me)! Also, I can see the circuitous route this is taking, injury line-up that is...Sebastian, Roarke, Isabel,Roarke, Sebastian...enough is enough, Donna Summers and I agree. We go get our ridiculously expensive package of Rush order car parts, 3 days late but here, and call it a day.
On our way home, Roarke fell asleep, Isabel too, all I could do was laugh. Laugh at the crowd that gathered to be a witness to Roarke´s illogical actions, the ease of getting him out when you have help and the looks on peoples faces...like, is your son retarded? No, he just likes to push things to the limit...ummm, scratch that, beyond the limit. I have to continually think outside of the box to accomodate this one soul on this earth. Somedays Roarke you are so frustrating I don´t know how to respond but today I have received bushels full of laughs from your antics.
Roarke did wake up later, drat! While dreaming, he became upset about his head getting stuck. Trying to calm him I said "There were three men that helped you though, they helped you get out." My stubborn, burro, of a son screamed at me: "NO!, I did it BY MYSELF!" Ungrateful, that was all I could think. Now I wonder if there isn´t a bit of self-survival and foreshadowing in that statement. Next time he sticks his head through the bars he´ll remember how to get out, by himself!
Motherhood becomes a blur all to often. I am oh...so grateful to Roarke for showing me today the ways we fail, and the ways we get up and keep moving in this life. To take chances seems so easy at three when you have an enormous safety net, at 38 taking chances and falling down seems insurmountable. We have to take chances at any age though, we have to keep falling down, moving foward and laughing. To give it all is what makes life worth living.
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose for existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of being. - Carl Gustav Jung
November 11 is San Martin´s day, a most beautiful festival weekend here. There will be men and boys riding horses passing through San Miguel, processions of pilgrims that can be miles long. The United Sates, or Indiana at least, never offered visions of pilgrims. Pilgrims of debauchery perhaps, going to the Indy 500. My soul however needs the complex beauty of men riding horses, honoring San Martin, marching towards their Lord and chosen patron saint. Children weaving their way through the darkness with lanterns, singing songs of San Martin
San Martin´s story: Martin was from a long line of soldiers, going into the business of marching towards war at the age of 15. His story takes off at the age of 18 when he´s out soldiering and sees a beggar in need of clothes, Martin felt compelled to rip his cloak in half to share some warmth with this poor soul. Martin dreams that night the beggar was really Jesus referred to Martin is the unbaptized Roman soldier that has now clothed him. Martin chooses to be baptized, pagan no more. For two more years Martin continues his life as the now baptized Roman soldier...one day he says; "Enough! I am a soldier for Christ, I can no longer fight." Religion over duty didn´t work so well for the Roman Army, they threw Martin in jail. While he is in jail Martin offers to go into the melée unarmed, the Army liked that idea, one less loco religious dude hanging around. Luckily for Martin and us, the invaders concede to peace! Martin is spared with an honorable discharge, official walking papers to live a life devoted to God.
There is the story of how San Martin chose to walk in the light. It´s hard to renounce what you know, be persecuted and still say "What I have known is wrong, what I have done is wrong but I can move foward and make a much better go of it today." Sure, St. Martin has other fantastical stories associated with him but I love this one story of simplicity. Of a radical conversion in his life that caused him to change. Martin´s journey took about 5 years, change rarely seizes us one night and wham-o, I am a new improved better human being. Change is the gradual shifts of the heart that happen everyday, I talk about those often, but rarely do I see a "New! Improved! Digitally Enhanced! Better!" me instantly. Growing up in a culture of instant gratification, I want those changes, NOW, thank you very much! But we must wait, I ask my children for patience daily. Why is it so difficult for me to wait for the savory gifts in this life?
Each year the children and maestros of Los Charcos have their Caminata de Faroles. For this festival, the school chooses a cause to donate to in honor of San Martin. Last year we brought donations for the state of Tabasco, suffering from the mud-slides and hurricanes. This year the community will focus on the orphans from the girls orphnage, Santa Julia, specifically, two scholarships to Los Charcos. The two candidates deserve the right to a wholistic education, they have lived through trauma...the girls have no family to provide for them, that is trauma enough. My mother heart aches for all of the girls in Santa Julia, all of them deserve the love and support a community can bring, especially one like Los Charcos. I know the capacity for love in this Waldorf school, it is immense and all children have a right to receive this. Not just my children because I can afford to pay tuition.
Parque Juarez, in San Miguel de Allende, this Sunday November 9, 2008, will be illuminated by children from pre-school to junior high, carrying lanterns, walking slowly, singing songs. The children I think are unaware of how beautiful this sight is, a generous moment for all adults present. Last year I could not stop the constant stream of tears down my face. No tears of sadness, only joy and pure love for every child in the procession. Festival de San Martin is the lantern for my soul, watching the children that shape our future...walking, giving, loving in communion.
With Richard´s return this week, and only for one week boo-hoo, I have discovered...I don´t need acupuncture. What I need is the support of my husband, just to hear his voice not through my Verizon wireless cell phone. I am listening to hims read from a dictionary (it was Sebastian´s night to choose a story, what can I say he takes after me) to the kids. There is tranquility, there is harmony, Monday night I even saw two shooting stars while standing outside with only my husband. A week of the small gifts that I appreciate after his long absence from home. Saturday Richard will go back to Houston, back to work, back to what really is a struggle right now. Maybe I´ll go back to acupuncture but it won´t work, my soul needs Richard and my life is painful without him, right here live and in person. Richard, you tell me I am strong but I´m only half as strong without you here.
I was going to tell you all about my last two day s of acupuncture but I must discuss Halloween instead. This may surpise all of my friends and loved ones in the United States but I despise Halloween. What is the significance in the day, why do we pass out candy and let our children gorge themselves on candy for that evening? Three Halloween´s have passed without my children being any wiser to the sugar coma inducing evening. This year I indulged and am regretting it.
As I emailed a friend earlier; Roarke was "unbearable by 5:26 pm (I know because I looked at the clock), two hours and ten pieces of candy later...I was ready to snatch him bald" or something along those lines. By 7:45, Sebastian had punched two 4th graders in the testicles, he says they were threaating to hit him and his friend with a bat. Hmmm...I think if someone is coming after me with a bat I run to the safe place, not take time out to punch two boys in the balls and make a kid almost twice his size cry. Tenacity or assholisity? I am not sure. I was really looking forward to rearing the next Gandhi but it looks like my boys have other plans in mind, like Napoleon (Sebastian is not a tall boy after all) and the Bruiser (because Roarke is a tall boy). Great, my best hope right now is they will form THE rock and roll band for their time. Which leads me to my homeschool lesson of the week...
Since I cannot listen to the White Stripes EVERYDAY at 8am I thought to put different discs in the CD changer in the car. This week commences the education of quality alternative (one bordering on punk, hooray!), guitar heavy, fables in songs week. My choices were Sterophonics "Language.Sex.Violence. Other?" I know, the title makes me sound crazy, but the song Sebastian likes is "Superman" (you know, 7.75 year´s old) and the gist of the lyrics is shut the f*!# up, stop talking because you´re not doing anything. And believe me, I translate lyrics for the under 8 crowd so they can understand metaphor. We do it through explaining politics via "rock and roll" ideas. Hence the statement "George Bush is wrecking the planet" a la Sebastian. Then Isabel "George Bush is a very mean man and he doesn´t like other people to be happy." I really don´t know how they came to these conclusions! And yes, my children think Bono is a better man than the current President of the United States.
My second choice, Death to the Pixies disc #2. After digging out the Pixies, I was so happy. Yes, it makes me want to drive fast (which is an impossibility in Mexico), but Frank Black and the song "Debaser"!? Crikey, I can teach French Film criticism on that song alone (i.e. I am un chien Andalusia!). Now, that is my form of un-schooling, I guess Waldorf just needs to get my back for math and reading. I am teaching the poingnant stuff, right? Now go listen to the Pixies and this weeks classic alternative/possibly post punk music/Intro to French Film un-schooling adventure.
Okay, so my neck is still achy and i have 2 more sessions of acupuncture this week. In total I will spend about $600 MXP (which is less than $60 USD these days) for three days of acupuncture, I am putting a giant prayer out to the universe to help this heal my neck. To begin with Sandra, another Los Charcos mother, took a brief clinical history. You know diseases in the family, general health, blah, blah...after that she asked me to stick out my tongue. Sandra looked at my tongue for about 45 seconds "Um...hmm...now I will make your treatment." I don´t know what she saw on my tongue but her fingers found all the spots that ached intensely and she put the needles in.
With the 4th needle she put in, left shoulder blade, she hit this painful spot. All of a sudden there was a rush of pain up my shoulder blade to my head, my left ear got all tingly, then the crown of my head was tingly and super hot. I was starting to think, okay this really sucks or I´m having an induced Kundalini moment, when the colors in the room got really bright, my green shirt went electric green in front of me. Ten seconds later the pain was gone along with the color intensity. All the needles in my back were taken out, Sandra put one on the crown of my head, had me lie down and placed 4 more needles on me; the outer portion of both wrists and the outer portion below my kneecaps on both sides. I laid on the table listening to music, that sounded like Grieg, you know that gorgeous weeping emotive orchestral stuff, and waited 15 minutes for her to return.
While I´m laying there wondering about cellos and electric violins and new age music, I start to notice, crap the fingertips on my left hand feel like they are oozing painfulness. Might as well start praying with the new age music...pain leave my body through my fingertips, seep into this table, travel down the legs of this table and rest in the coolness of the concrete floor, let me walk over the worry the discomfort and keep on moving, for the sake of my children please make it go away (because I am not pleasant in my bitching to everyone right now!), sink my pain and sorrows in to the earth and plant a seed. Seeds hold within them the power of change, growth and wholeness...please let my nagging, irritating sorrow from pain become something else. So, I am waiting and going back tomorrow for more of my treatment plan. Now I need a smoking cessation acupuncture session I think.
When I came home to type this I kept hearing this soft banging noise. I knew I didn´t leave a window open because I checked all the windows 5 times this morning when I heard the same banging noise. So, I turn around. Perched in the office window on the metal grid of bars is this beautiful bird looking at me and pecking on the window. I have no idea what kind of bird it is, his breast is bright yellow, his face is white except for a blank band around his eyes (he looks like a bandit), and his beak is thick and black, maybe woodpeckerish. This bird we have seen hanging about for days in the window, in the tree out back and I wonder why has s/he come? Though I´m not a superstitious, I like the idea of signs. When I think of birds I think of migration, flow, weightlessness. Maybe this bird pecking on the window is saying I will take it, I will take your pain and carry it into the winds where it will disperse and not consume you, or anyone, ever again. Thanks little bird, you and Sandra gave me gifts today, even if the notions are of my own crafting, the power of positive thinking can get us all farther along than wallowing in fear, worry and negativity.
Better yet, maybe this bird is like the squirrel in "Little Acorns" by the White Stripes. Remember that post? I said I´m going to "be like the squirrel, take all my problems and carry them off in a shopping cart" (and if you haven´t listened to that song yet, go find it, it´s fantastic!). So, my bird friend is here to remind me, peck it apart into manageable pieces and go from there. Acupuncture and an interesting voyeuristic bird, that´s a very fine day!
Two weeks ago I had a discussion with a gentleman, aged 85 to perfection, about Ayn Rand´s prolific work "The Fountainhead". The man was named Sid, is an architect, though he hasn´t practiced in many years, and was intrigued by Roarke´s name having read Rand´s book. Sid also studied under Frank Lloyd Wright. What I didn´t know is that the character of Howard Roark had been loosely associated with Wright when the book came out. Here is Wikipedia´s all too brief synopsis of Roark, the namesake of our Roarke.
Howard Roark Howard Roark, Rand's main protagonist, is "tall and gaunt"- "His hair was neither blond nor red, but the exact color of ripe orange rind." An aspiring architect with a unique and uncompromising creative vision, he contrasts sharply with the staid and uninspired conventions of the architectural establishment. He ignores the driving preoccupations of the world around him: wealth, status, social standing among the elite. Roark takes pleasure in the act of creation. But, he is constantly opposed by "the hostility of second-hand souls", the second-handers; those unwilling or afraid to recognize his creative ability.
To that I must add that Roark was unafraid of this life, he knew he could do more and yet when times called for it he would do whatever it took for him to survive in this world. Trying again and again, until he could produce quality without compromise. One has to stop and pause because it is quality that matters in this world and not quantity. Look at what quantity has done to first the economy of the U.S. while spreading it´s reach into the global economy. Now, I pause to think about what happens when you name your son after an enigmatic book character and he develops into his own person that parallels written, unpresumed qualities. I wanted to instill all those qualities in my children. It seems doubly concentrated in my Roarke.
At the same party where I talked with the octogenarian architect there were also many friends. One friend said "Roarke´s shirt is on inside out". To which I replied; "I know, he dressed himself, I told him it was inside out and he didn´t want to change it." This may seem simple to some, but to tell my Roarke that something isn´t within the norm and socially acceptable is like signing on to WWIII, seriously...you haven´t heard a kid screamed until you´ve seen Roarke and his theatrics. Yes, this is a serious pain in my ass...can´t you just put on clothes the way everyone else does or the myriad of other things other people do in a day but he refuses to participate in. In next breath I have to say to myself, well...we picked his name and gave him a title to go into this world with, pick a less controversial name next time. (By the way, I don´t think there will be a next time for me, Roarke requires energy that could not be diverted to an additional kid.)
In these crazy turbulent times I think about Roark and Roarke. Their passion, their stick-to-it-ness, how they are abrasive to the rest of the world, strong personalities which refuse to follow the flock. Never did I want to rear children that were pushovers without a sense of what is at the core right or wrong, abusive and non-abusive. That is my Roarke, painful for this mother to rear (just follow the rules damnit!) but in him I see the budding of this man that is strong beyond what I can imagine. Ayn Rand may have been an author to despise, disagree with, call crazy because of Objectivism...BUT she was also an author that gave my husband and myself the name a of a strong man, uncompromising in his duties as a creative human with the ability to survive scorn from his peers. To my Roarke; I hope your name serves you, I hope your load will be lighter to bear than fictional Howard Roark, though I think you are the right soul to meet the ugliness in life and rise up with your dignity intact.
P.S. Can anyone explain to me why Peter Keating´s Wiki entry is twice as long as Roark´s? For me, Roark was the central character with character in Rand´s book and yet we get a blurb. Did I miss something?
I have the utmost repsect for Bill Moyers. Here is the link to this weeks opening for "Bill Moyers Journal" at PBS.org. To think Paulson wanted a blank check. Acting fast still requires acting in the best interest of the American public, not the financial industry. For Paulson, I don´t think he knows what is best for John Q. Public (forget Joe the Plumber, this is the phrase my daddy taught me and it holds more weight! AND, AND...he voted Republican all his life John McCain). Well, watch and make your own decision.
Here´s an update to what my week has been like. Sunday we went to the christening party for Lucinda Richards and it was lovely, out in the country the mountains still green and the sky...the sky is that beautiful blue you see in high altitude places. There was a trampolin, a playset, pony rides, an ice cream man, lots of food and a staffed bar. That is how I enjoy spending Sunday´s, invite me to all your functions! I promise to be vivacious and charming if you get my kids away from me, happily, and feed me. My bad move for the day though was the comment that my 38 year old mortal coil is starting to show signs of discomfort in places I didn´t know existed 3years ago. Oh, foershadowing in real life...
When I came home from the party I noticed just how much my kids work me, I feel like Cinderella some days. Do this, no you did it wrong, why don´t you listen to me...and this is my kids talking to me, not the other way around. The "mommy can you get me (fill in the blank)" is running me ragged. These children think they need a full time staff and I am one. I paid for those few hours of bliss because when we got home, I didn´t sit down until 9:30 when they were asleep, finally! That is when the constant twinge in my neck (it´s been there for 3 weeks) started to generate more pain so I went to bed.
About 3 am I wake up because there is this horrible smell in my nostrils, I feel like puking and I hear Frankie barking outside my bathroom. I go to the bathroom and realize I´ve left the window open and Frankie, our fearless canine protector, has picked a fight with a skunk. Great, it stinks like roadkill in my bathroom, can´t wait for the morning when Frankie comes inside the house to eat.
Monday morning at 6:40 I wake up, I can´t move my neck. Fabulous, this is really turning out to be the God-forsaken Monday. I push the snooze, wake up 20 minutes later and decide this is one of those days I´m opting for bed, even over the liberation of 3 kids at school. When you cannot turn your head to the left, it´s really best not to drive my sleepy brain told me. I passed out until around 9:30 am, the kids were saying "let´s go to school" and I said "I can´t turn my head we are not going anywhere until I have to get Martha at 2:15." Until then, I talk with Stephanie, schedule a massage in the afternoon, put a hot compress on my neck and lay vertical. Of course Frankie stinks like nobody´s business and the urge to vomit comes in waves. Lovely, it´s such a perfect day.
I went for my massage, which I scheduled remember, and was told when I arrived: "Oh I can´t do it right now, come back at 6pm". It was 4pm, I have 3 children at home 20 minutes away, hell no I am not coming back in 2 hours I need it now! So I take my business elsewhere, to the Jasmine Spa; where I am massaged, by a man no less and worked the multitude of knots out of my shoulders. By Tuesday I felt like I had been pommeled in the shoulder blades by many fists. And Frankie still had the skunk funk.
Lead us to today, my shoulders and neck are in a constant dull manageable ache. I´ve scheduled acupuncture for next week and am really not looking foward to needles 3 days in a row. The kids have come home telling me how the maestro/as are looking for piojos (maybe I spelled it correctly, in any case it´s lice) in their hair and I am less than enthused. On a good note, our Pediatrician told us a few years ago lice only enjoy clean heads, which exempts my children because they love to roll in the dirt and go to bed dirty...frankly I´m cool with that. So no lice yet, just in case I´m keeping them extra dirty for a few weeks. On a really positive note, Richard is in Houston, gainfully employed, Houston is so much closer than Indianapolis and apparently in much better economic shape, he said the malls are packed with people. How is that possible? Oh, town of oil moguls, the rest of the country cannot afford Cartier anymore.
Meanwhile in finishing this blog, my children have gone from playful wrestling to eye for an eye justice which signals to me, I have to go and have yet another philosophical conversation. You would think my kids would get so tired of my pontificating they would stop practicing this brand of "justice". To the under 8 crowd, a punch must still be so exhilirating you can tune out your mother´s wrath. An exciting week so far!
P.S. Frankie still stinks, when does the skunk funk go away?
I took these photos in Kampala, Uganda. Our first morning in Africa. Remember the adversity some places in the world face when voting, look at Kenya. Get out and exercise your freedom to vote this year, every year. Use your voice, it your gift for being a citizen of the United States.
This video came across in a link from Codepink, thay started a fundraiser yesterday to help Jocelyn Voltaire. I hope it´s not too late to help, I´m sending in the little bit that I can. Click here to donate via Codepink.
P.S. I removed the video, goolge ANP anad you´ll find it there!
Last Friday I was driving back from the morning commute to Los Charcos (school) when I saw an amazing thing. The official title was "Maraton de Peregrinos 2º" which means means second annual marathon of pilgrims. I saw this religious procession the day after Betty´s post concerning the beige and mauve color scheme proposed for her beloved church. Betty, how I wish you had seen this procession of the faithful. The beginning of the marathon was a pick-up truck, Ford F150 with brown and yellow paint, in the back underneath a blue plastic tarp was the altar. Altars here have essential components; the Mexican flag, candles lit, flowers and of course, Virgen de Guadalupe (THE Queen of Mexico, dontcha know). The rainbow of colors and the simple beauty of this mobile altar made me sit, wait and watch. My next sight was a woman in a bright blue track suit running with a torch.
I was only half way through my mug of delicious black tea from Rwanda (thank you ´becca!) so immediately I said "What is going on?" Sometimes it´s hard to put all the pieces together in Mexico as an outsider, without the advantage of ample caffeination. Gradually I connected all the dots, translated all the signs into my English dominant brain and saw the herd of silver, pink and blue buses headed my way. (Travel note in Mexico: if you see lots of buses going the way you need to go, pull out quick and get ahead of them or sit for an hour and wait, I decided to pull out, quick!) I made it to nearly the front of the marathon and watched as people jumped from the moving bus, in front of me, to stand their place in line on this torch passing marathon of a pilgrimage.
Watching the people jump from the bus made me think, good Lord that is so not safe and then I thought of Duffy again. You are right, religion has become so safe. In the effort not to "offend" there is a diluted haziness of religiosity. What I saw was this beautiful explosion of movement and color in honor of God. Isn´t that religion? A Faith that moves you and takes you out of the realm of your cozy life? Good God it was a beautiful moment! There was no "blandness...(of) appearance or message" that day. I watched as these pilgrims ran the marathon for God, passing the torch from one to the next, because life is with people and spreading the message isn´t it? That is where I bow down on my knees, though I can´t commit to the Pilgrims God, I can commit to their faith. There is something larger than me, something Divine and I get the message daily: this life is great, this life is good...run the marthon. And so I am.
Click here for an update to what the world thinks of the U.S. election. McCain is winning in Georgia and for now that´s all. While the PBS Palin poll is tied for her qualifications on the job, the rest of the world speaks up. What happens if we don´t listen?
This is such old news, something that has been rehashed so many times. We should be offended that McCain keeps reeling this fish back in, looks like he learned swiftboat tactics well. Again, the fears of some Americans have been revived and we are not one iota closer to a solution to our current disaster. For land´s sake, as my Grandma used to say, wake up America. John McCain really is not your friend. Or if he is it´s the National Enquirer Variety Friend...shock, fear, sensationalism, a little more fear and a splash of mis-information. Dig Deeper America.
Okay, different content and interesting premise by Freakonomics bloggers. Hey, they are renegade economists and I haven´t inspected the "Patriot Dollars". I think if we went by Patriot Dollars Obama would have won and we´d be done with this charade. Enjoy the link.
I started watching the debate as soon as I got home from taking trash to town. Yes, taking my maggot infested garbage was more important than watching the debate from the start. Here is where I got in; McCain saying he was going to give a $5000 tax credit for families to pay for insurance. Hmm, please do correct me, but didn´t he think that was unreasonable when Hillary had similar options, "it will never work" I remember hearing but this election is all such a blur, just the way politicians like it. I have no problem with him coming to new conclusions but, he should have given props to Clinton and not bagged that as his own idea. Believe me John, can I call you John since you think I am your "friend", no woman that would vote for Hillary would vote for you if she held true to her ideals. I used to think I´d vote for Hillary until Obama came along. Again, John, I´m not sticking with the vagina-factor on the ticket.
I loved the use of his colloquialisms: "We need a cool hand at tiller." This from "the Maverick" candidate, Mr. Independent. His speechwriters must think I don´t pay attention to what he is actually saying and forget Mr.Maverick and Mrs.Sparkles images portrayed outside of the realm of debate. Too many times did he say "I have the experience." Please don´t fall for that subliminal message. John, you are cavelier enough to say "Bomb, bomb, Iran", experience should have told you that was a moronic thing to say. Perhaps you were caught up in the exhilirating moment but I can see where your brand of experience is leading me. And as for your response; you were talking to veterans and if anyone doesn´t understand it then just get a life. I have a life John, I don´t want you in it. Just sayin´. Okay, back to debate issues though, I do get riled up.
McCain´s two top priorites: 1. National Security 2. Security for the men and women in the armed forces abroad I suppose his interest in me is lumped into National Security but let me tell you, I feel safer abroad than in the good ole USA. I´m less afraid of terrorist on American soil than freaks, I mean fellow Americans, that like to hurt children, which I have three of and would kill the person that hurt them. Yes, for all my non-violence, I protect my kiddos like a tiger. So, where does my family fit into your priorities? In the future we will be forced to deal with Iran, Russia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, China...uhh, the developing world. I don´t think a President that has sung his ditty to bomb could successfully protect National Security because you just made yourself a target, dumbass. Remember my eye for an eye brand of justice blog? Unfortunately politics operates on that failed method and "You betcha" Pres. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad will remember your trite 42 seconds and fuck the American public because you laughed. Thanks John, you´re a real wonder boy!
My last thought for the debates was "Which dude could I really have a conversation with? Which man is speaking to me? Which man would listen to me?" Break this down to which candidate is going to listen to people, period. John McCain says "I have experience, I can do this job." Sorry, you cannot do this job alone. In Obama I see a reasonable man willing to listen to people and seek advisors to help guide the country in the right direction, diplomacy. With McCain, I see this false representation of cowboy machoism that worked with Reagan (not so much for you John) the world is different now and this is not the wild west, no more shoot ´em up cowboy...let´s talk, like the civilized folks do. In the President I am not looking for the King of Everything, a "maverick". I´m looking for a person that sees himself as the leader for 300 million different voices and recognizes among all that chatter where we are fundamentally the same. If you don´t think Obama can accomplish this, hopefully we´ll talk in 4 years. I´m willing to risk it with him because I can´t take a risk with "McPalin".
Post Script: While listening to McCain, I noticed his subdued lyrical voice, very good, PERFECT for reading children´s stories and sleep inducement. Books on tape could be an option as a job for you Senator McCain.
Post Script Script: I´ve decided to call you Senator McCain because really, I´m not your friend, unless you read my blog, then I´ll consider it. You´re going to have to answer some tough questions from this mama, amigo. Can we go bi-lingual when we´re friends?
This is what I´m talking about. Children changing the world. This young girl was so brave to speak to the United Nations, so wise to raise a voice of reason. I love that she tells us "If we don´t know how to fix it then stop breaking it." Hmmm...I just said that to my 3 year old today. She takes valuable words, from the mouths of adults to teach lessons to our children. Encouraging us as adults to follow through with our own words. How I pray my children will be as sage, will have paid attention to my demands for civility in the home and in the world. If a 12 to 13 year old can grasp the concept of right and wrong action and critique the society she lives in, why is this task insurmountable for adults? Thank you Paloma for the link to hope.
Yes, I really had to push my eyeballs back in my head last night when I watched the debates. Did Palin really say she was eager to see what the Congress and Senate would let her powers be? Yes, she really did, I see her lips moving and heard her clearly and I said "whaaattt?" As in expansion of VP powers? Sorry, still second in command, rooted firmly (well, not after Cheney) in the executive branch. Then Glenn asked "Do you mean to say you believe the VP is a member of the legislative and not executive branch?" Thanks for asking the question I was wondering, Gwen.
However, I was too busy popping my eyeballs back in my head to listen to Palin´s response, which I am going to do today. I have to give Palin props, she is charming and "super-friendly" but I´m really not buying it. And I didn´t count how many times Biden said "Obama...change...my friend John...is wrong..." but I got the mantra after about 15 minutes, okay? Give me some substance candidates and stop wasting my time!
To the muchachos at the auto lavado at the bottom of Sterling Dickinson in San Miguel de Allende: I bless the ground you walk on and you are my real life heroes. You washed my minivan inside and out for a mere $8 USD. You bring me joy every time I get in my van. Because of the absence of mold on my carpet, because it doesn´t smell like trash. Just Monday my minivan smelled like garbage, my husband´s Land Rover is "too nice" to take the garbage to town in. Well you are too nice now, you beautiful clean machine, though you are a lowly Honda Oddessey.
The best treat of all, finding that the carseat, which endured Isabel´s toddler/preschool years and now Roarke´s, had been power washed and vaccumed to it´s pre-anyone-sitting-in-me nastiness. You deserve better clientele than me and a better tip than I gave you, even though you were grateful. Life is about living in mutual appreciation, gratefulness for one another, and though my car being clean is mundane to the extreme, that is when life experience happens, in the mundane little details of the day. If we are too busy to stop and take notice then appreiate those millions of little things in the day we lose the human-ness, the humane-ness in our lives. So thank you for clean windows, no mold and a not disgusting car seat you are gracious men of service and valor to tackle my neglected property.
This is our highly efficient 21 st century lawn mower, isn´t he cute. This baby bull cow, as Roarke calls him, has been here about three days and is making his way through our grasses. Evidently life is so sweet here he doesn´t want to find his herd or be found and I haven´t put out an APB letting others know, "your cow is at my house!" I´m secreting him away so I can avoid hiring a gardener, because of all the trades, the gardener is the last to show, if he/she ever does. Baby bull cow (b.b.c.) has soft fuzzy hair and watches us as we walk around but seems content to ignore us. Because he is so docile the kids totally ignore the bull. In our little sanctuary here away from the nosiness of town, I like that the grass can even be mowed in a quiet non-obtrusive fashion. Thanks for hanging out with us b.b.c. Stay as long as you like but no pooping on the patio, this mother has some limits.
I just returned from the presentation at Los Charcos and while I should be telling you all about that I cannot stop fixating on something else. My ego and how it has been injured over something so funny it makes me have belly laughs but I still wonder, aren´t I good enough? Explanation follows...
There is a couple that is well known here for being...swingers. I know I´m laughing right now too, this is good people, soap opera good which is fun sometimes. So this summer the Mr. propositioned another friend with "oh you have such beautiful hair and umph! it´s the total package that is good". Proceeding to invite her to step out on her marriage and have some fun with this Latiño Russell Crow, he really does look like Russell. Well, we had some good laughs and of course, that is complimentary to your ego but pisses off your husband, understandably.
Today, Russell propositioned the HUSBAND of a friend of mine. No,not that way. He offered to "make love" to my friend´s wife. Oh man, I had a really good laugh over that one!! That is a bold move. He must have seen something in them that made him feel like "hey, if I do your wife she will love you more." Indeed, he did say something about alleviating the other dude´s wife of anger thereby making it easier to love her husband. What the hell kind of sunglasses did he have on because I get a totally different picture of them!
My ego issues; I´ve known this dude for a year now, he´s never propositioned me! What is wrong with me? I know this is stupid, but my rear end looks mighty fine in my chocolate brown corduroys, good enough to bite my husband says...oops, let that one slip. Hey, my ego is injured, give me a break! I just have to think it must be the imposing figure of my husband, to protect my ego of course. And my husband will be very dissapointed when he reads this, I don´t actually want to knock boots with Russell but could I just get a "hey, nice ass!" sometime? My ego needs it but I don´t really. Now I will shut up because you have all seen the shallow side of me, hope you enjoyed the visit!
There is a new family at Los Charcos and I was talking with another amazing mother, Kate, the other day. We talked while waiting for the bus, she asked me about myself, I told a little, I asked for her story, it was a great conversation. The next day Kate came up to me and said "I´m so sorry I asked about you and then started talking about myself." Surprised, that is how I felt, that she wanted to listen to my story and felt like she hadn´t paid enough attention, when really she had. Go to Pedge´s post in which she noticed that we need lessons "in the civilized art of listening". My heart is light because I have found the quality of friend that recognizes when to listen and if she feels she hasn´t done her job as a person, she makes amends for it. Thank you Pedge for todays insight into human relations (I said that in my most official voice you know).
Okay, big short blog day, my mind is always awhirl with ideas! My inspiration this moment comes from The White Stripes and Little Acorns. If you don´t know their music, this is a fantastic song, unfortunately there is no good video for this song. So, here is how the song begins in an announcers voice, think Jim from "What Do You Know" on NPR) When problems overwhelm us and sadness smothers us where do we find the will and the courage to continue? Well the answer may come in the caring voice of a friend,a chance encounter with a book, or from a personal faith. For Janet help came from her faith, but it also from a squirrel. Shortly after her divorce, Janet lost her father, then she lost her job. She had mounting money problems. But Janet not only survived she worked her way out of despondency and now she says, life is good again. How could this happen? She told me that late one day when she was at her lowest she watched a squirrel storing up nuts for the winter, one at a time he would take them to the nest. And she thought, if that squirrel can take care of himself with the harsh winter coming along, then so can I. Once I ripped my problems into small pieces I was able to carry them,just like those acorns, one at a time.
And so I am ripping my problems into small pieces because "a burden in the hand is lighter than in the heart" I am gonna be the squirrel , thank you to the White Stripes!
And one more video tribute for Sebastian from the White Stripes also. This is to you my funny almost 8 year old, I love rocking out while you play air guitar and I bang the drums. In my world we are a family of rockstars and I dig that you LOVE groove-a** music. Thank goodness it´s not the millions of crappy "musicians" inhabiting this planet, and yes I did just pass judgement (I draw the line at good music!) And yes, again, the name of the song is "Seven Nation Army". I would like to think this is a critique of the "eye for an eye" which is so ever present in my life, when we open our minds to change we begin to gather tools. I´m gathering tools to help my children think outside of the box, sometimes that comes in the form of rock and roll, I´ll take it where I can get it. And now, prepare to ROCK!!!
that I have been disappointed by the unkindness of others today. Today I am having dealings with a person of the Buddhist persuasion and am wondering how that person can call himself/herself Buddhist. There is no compassion, no graciousness and then they throw out little personal barbs. Big sigh. THIS is why I do not choose organized religion of any brand, the flock stray too far from the herder giving out the message. There has to be a lesson of compassion for me in this and I am failing because if that Buddhist were standing in front of me right now, they would receive a hard kick in the buttocks. Again with the catch 22, why can´t I let go and love anyway, why is this so flipping hard?!
Today I found a website called greenjobsnow.com. Saturday September 27, 2008 is the national day of action for green jobs, asking the Presidential candidates to take a good look at the economy, with the high unemployment rates, AND global warming. This seems to be a sound notion to pull the economy out of a slump and address the global dependence on depleting oil supplies, why didn´t we start this in thte 70´s with the first oil crisis? Well, as I am not a policy maker, I can only conjecture as to why it has taken and additional 30 odd years to get green power back on the table on a massive scale.
I remember reading Stud Terkel´s book "The Good War" in 1984, that was the beginning of my confusion over the issues of war. Somewhere in the book I recall reading, war is good for the economy, jobs as soldiers were created and then of course jobs created to build the weapons neccessary to sustain the war. This seemed to be paradoxical to me at the time, and still does. Yes, we create jobs, but is war psychologically the best way to employ the masses in hard times? I have a hard time believing that, the devisivness created in a persons psyche to build those weapons of mass destruction...I believe it to be detrimental to individuals and society as a whole.
As for WWII, if you ask my mother, dropping the A-bomb on Japan was absolutely neccessary to a.) prevent more deaths (in United States mind you, Japan drew the short straw on that one.) b.) end the war. Well, the A-bomb definitely ended that war and left a legacy, how future wars will be fought. I still hear about rules of engagement during war but it seems we must all be cheating when bombs are dropped from the sky and there is no face to the people below you that are now perishing. Let it be known, most countries conduct war this way now and I am critical of that process, not just one country. This year U.S. arms sales are projected to be around $34 billlion, that´s a lot of money for one industry to pull in, it´s also 45% more in arms sales than 2007. Does anyone else think this is a staggering jump? Furthermore, we´ve all seen footage from 9-11, why continue to make more bombs, airplanes can be used as weapons of mass destruction. All the "smart bombs" in the world won´t help if people are smarter and more dasterdly than the weapons being produced.
The point of my diatribe on war, arms proliferation, massive global spending for weapons the U.S. produces: Do we fully expect the weapons won´t be used against the united States? I do, remember my blog post about an eye for an eye? Really folks, you don´t have to become entrenched in government, policymaking and diplomacy to see the writing on that wall, observing my children makes a clear case for avoiding an eye for an eye. So now, I think about the $34 billion being spent by foreign countries on weapons. That is a big chunk of change that could be used for R&D of sustainable living and help an entirely new market of green power emerge, globally. A new emerging market to invest in that would be for the good of the planet, is that really a revolutionary idea? Definitely green power seems to be the most sane choice for this family.
All I am asking of global leaders is to inspect the choices, what sort of world would they like to create for their children and grandchildren? Are we so vastly different that we can´t make decisions that sustain life on our planet, OUR world? I believe in the Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." in 1776, we were declaring independence from a "despot regime" today I think we need to consider independence from oil. There is a whisper of change occurring and it becomes our job, as citizens, to stop whispering and project our voices for change. This Saturday you may not have a green job but evaluate your actions and determine, how can I make my world green and sane? And if anyone knows how to turn our cars to solar powered vehicles, I have a spare bedroom and a muy comoda casa for you to enjoy while we work on that!
With Waldorf schooling, so come juntas (meetings), lots of them. (Lots of birthday parties too which I am proud to say, they all get character pinatas loaded with candy, it is solidarity my friends.) Today I had a junta with Sebastian´s maestro so we can address Sebastian´s mid-line issues and now the word dyslexia has been said, once. Personally I´ve had my suspiscions about dyslexia and Sebastian for a time but gave up freaking out about it because what good has it done any of us? Nada, we are looking for creative solutions to help Sebastian learn the written language.
While I was waiting for the end of school and the beginning of my meeting this is what I observed at Colegio Los Charcos: the wind in the trees, a piano being played, children laughing in a classroom, cuentos en Español en la ronda (circle story time), a Blue Jay (1 meter away) squaking and pecking a beetle on the tree, a flute joining in with the piano, ki-ki-ki-a-ri from the gallo in story circle, and finally the old-fashioned school bell rung by hand. How I felt afterwards: calm, quiet, sure of my decision to live here and participate in Waldorf schooling as a family. The world is collapsing around us but in the space of the Colegio, there is safety, wonder, love and hope. Like a delicious, silky rebozo where you are wrapped into it´s embrace.
The meeting today with Maestro Thomas is the 2nd in a yearlong series for us. Maestro has decided to "make a study of Sebastian" and find alternative ways to help him when he reverses his letters, help him become a reader in a low-impact, low-freakout, no stress fashion. When I told the maestro how difficult it was to read with Sebastian at home he said stop, stop reading, stop pushing, let´s find a different approach. Whoa, I couldn´t believe my ears, education isn´t about struggle? It´s not about sitting down until you finish the miserable task of homework reduced to a puddle of tears? As a path of least resistance gal, I was in love. More importantly I was in wonder. My ideas of progress always contain an element of pain, struggle, conquer, I have to re-learn my ideas which I am gladly doing.
My homework, given to me by Thomas is; get Sebastian on his bike more often, enroll him in the Gravity Works class here (not gymnatics, but a "circus" class on trapeze artistry), have Sebastian mold the letters out of clay in print and cursive, massage his feet in the morning to wake him up and wash his face with cold water in the morning to help him enter his body. I said "Is that it? I feel like I should be doing more?" The response; "We are here to help you do the rest. It is a long aggrivating process alone, but it is not unmanageable if we work together." You know I´m crying don´t you? My children are so well cared for in their whole person the moment they step into the space of Colegio Los Charcos, they are cared for the way I strive to care for them and sometimes fail, but the message they receive is consistent: you are loved, you are important to me, to this world and I will help you always. Today I am breathing a big sigh of relief but hoping the calendar is free of juntas for just one week.
The Economist has come out with a great concept, The Global Electoral College, just for fun that is. I don´t want to live in a one world order. Link here to vote for the next President of the United States in a mock global election. The statistics are provided and you can click on different countries to see the percentage of votes per candidate. Pass the link on to all you know, it will be interesting to see what the global and then national decisions will be. I know it´s cliché but rock the vote!
I wear this bracelet as a daily reminder of the beauty of motherhood and the extreme sacrifices entailed on my path, though not nearly as painful as the Virgen´s. I´m hoping you all love Guad as much as I do and want one! The beads with the images are wooden with glass beads in between, on an elastic one-size-fits-all band and the bracelet is 1 3/4" wide. There are six images: 2 of Guadalupe, La Señora de Nuestra Salud, San Martin (patron saint of soldiers but an interesting man because of his pacifist nature), San Judas de Tadeo (patron saint of desperate cases-definitely mothers!), and Mary, Joseph and child Jesus as a family. The bracelets are $10, which includes shipping and handling to the U.S. Invite a little bit of Mexican kitsch into your life! Click here to order through Pay Pal.com and enter my email address, resirca@gmail.com, as the recipient of funds. Tell your friends and family and their friends and family too!
Martha (pronounced Martá) is our domestic saint, the word maid is muy fea. Today while I was running errands she was here with Isabel and Roarke, this was the pleasant surprise left for me.
Tonight I went to find my pajama bottoms. For several weeks my shelf in the closet that holds my pajamas, t-shirts and the like has been a disaster, thanks to three kids that like to hide in closets. I´ve been meaning to get to this, although really I was hoping to just wear it all, wash it then fold it. Doesn´t matter, it was a disaster last night and tonight when I opened the closet door, everything was perfectly folded in neat little stacks. Martha, you deserve a better employer than this slacker mama but I know Martha´s secret because she told my friend Stephanie. Martha worries about me when I am alone with three kids, in the country where it´s dark. She helps me up when I fall down on slippery floors, we cried together one day because of a bad situation and she loves my children and they love Martha. You are so much more than the woman that works for me Martha and though I can´t tell you all that en Español, I believe you know that because of your acts of kindess toward me. Gracias para todos, Martha.
Today this really is my hearts delight! Thank you ´becca, I am grateful your luggage was not permanently lost because this tea tastes of Uganda which is bitter and sweet and bracingly strong. To many more memories of red stained feet my friend.
This is a very heavy song by Tom Waits that has been heavy on my mind, "The Road To Peace". Though Waits is using old events in his political song to illustrate the fruitless nature of an eye for an eye, he causes me to think. How am I making a difference each moment, each day, every interaction I have? This song is another reason my failure to walk the road of peace with my children is so heavy on my mind, a parent works so hard to instill morals but ultimately our children construct their own value system. Unfortunately, their value system can be at odds with how they were reared, as is the case of one boy in this song. I know it´s hard to listen to Tom´s scratchy voice at first but his insights into this human existence are worth the effort. If you care to listen to more on struggling with eye for an eye justice, here you go. From the CD set "Orphans, Brawlers and Bawlers" one woman´s (not mine)representation of Tom Waits and his thoughts on the road to peace.
Last night I watched the movie "Battle of Haditha" which if you are feeling particularly disgruntled with war you shouldn´t watch. What I picked up from the film was: the extreme difficulty in making right and wrong decisions in wartime and an eye for an eye is questionable justice. Background: The U.S. is in Iraq, trying to restore order and peace and prevent more deaths. There are Iraqi´s that are indifferent to the American´s, this is a time to be lived through. Then of course you have radical Islamic factions that have made in-roads and will destroy all American´s. How could any person, Iraqi or American, survive amidst all that hatred?
Very Quick Snyopsis: The Iraqi patriot in the film plants an IAD to blow up a convoy of American soldiers, he succeeds in destroying one. What happens after that is of course disasterous, we´ve all read about what happened. Marines went in looking for insurgents and were told to eliminate possible rebels in two particular houses. In those houses there happened to be women, children and old men, and the story has it none of them were rebels but will we ever know the facts? In a country where to die for your religion at the hands of American´s will win you paradise, could we get a straight story? The outcome for the Iraqi patriot is tragic because he finds that in following what he thinks is right (but is reactionary only) his actions kill more of his innocent countrymen and women, than the evil American´s and he will have to live with those images of death by his actions. He never thought of the consequences beyond blowing up the convoy
This brings me to a point I was pondering yesterday. My children have this sense of an eye for an eye as justice. Because someone has done "X" to you, you in turn do "X" to them, you know! My observation, as a mother, is that people/groups cannot function with this brand of justice, this mama can´t anyway. The gratification of one punch should be easy to weigh against the consequences afterward. However, if Roarke walks up and hits Isabel (which he is want to do), what should he expect in return? Do you really think the other person isn´t going to turn around a deliver a punch? Because I think if a person is assaulted they will fight to come out on top. Yet continually I steer my children away from causing conflict, try to work peace out. But I am getting really fed up with Roarke and his three year old ways that are like a bushfire out of control.
To make Isabel and Sebastian turn the other cheek continually to Roarke´s aggressions seems unfair. To get my 3 year old to not behave like a brute is becoming increasingly difficult. With all my moral, ethical and value pondering lately, I find I come up short. Really short, because I am ready to say, to Isabel especially, come out of the corner fighting and wallop Roarke, maybe he´ll remember that and back off. But as in the film that doesn´t happen. The fight leads to a larger disaster, grand consequences, more offenses and then my family will stop fuctioning. I am trying to walk the path of peace with my children, but it is super slippery and today I cannot get proper footing.
In case you are in need of a film that shows just how strong the human spirit is, here is a trailer for "God Grew Tired Of Us". This is the story of a few of the Lost Boys from Sudan, their story is tragic, emotional and fiercly beautiful. I encourage you to visit your local video store or library to find a copy.
Our Experience in Africa: During the Christmas season Sebastian and I traveled to Gulu, Uganda to be with our best friends, ´becca and Elliott Nimrod. Though this adventure, began with a joke:
´bec: come with us to Uganda to wean Roarke!
me: okay i´ll talk to Richard.
Richard: sounds like a great idea, book the tickets!
Yes, it really was that easy folks. I´ll endure cataloupe sized boobs while weaning anyday if I can travel to the unknown places of my world. Even 24 hours of travel with an almost 7 year old. Hell, one kid...that is called an accessory! Somewhere between Amsterdam and Entebbe though, I woke up with a jolt and said "Shit, we´re really doing this aren´t we?" To no one but myself and I only wish I could tell you I had been more eloquent, but I wasn´t. No the $700 USD in painful vaccinations didn´t register "Hey, we´re going to Uganda!", only a minor "wow, my arm hurts". What it took was being on a plane, cruising over the Alp´s, with my son´s curly head resting soundly in my lap to sink in. Well, I´m 2/3´s of the way there, live the adventure.
I recall, I felt vaguely at home, people cooking over wood fires, brush burning everywhere with that acrid but pleasant smell, limited water supply, random electricity...all of these we had become accustomed to being in Mexico. Painful illnesses...I never knew my bowels could hurt so until Octobert of 2006. Mexico had provided Bash and myself with lots of extra flora and fauna, we had 2nd world antigens but man Gulu is 3rd world, can we survive 16 days of this. Now I am thinking; "what have I done bringing my 7 year old here" and I pray for the best.
What is the best is to step outside of your white self, which is hard when you are an anomaly, and start breathing like this is your last breath. Soak in every bit of what you can, because it is such a short time, when will you be back on the continent of Africa, what story can you take back that may change someone as much as it will hopefully change you? When I finally started breathing, I opened my heart and I let go of all the things I felt I had to do, I opened myself to love.
The stories my ears received were so painful to absorb, my whitebreed existence knew nothing of this sort of pain. Grace with her lovely daughter, the product of rape by the Lord´s Resistance Army (LRA), didn´t love her daughter any less. Agnes, her policeman husband murdered by thugs in Kampala. Agnes was left to provide for 5 children, one child currently in the hospital with malaria. The mad woman outside of the H.E.A.L.S. compound screaming to the maid "REBECCA, REBECCA, PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!" The malnutrition ward of the free clinic, children didn´t suffer from starvation because of lack of food. No, they suffered from parasites, worms eating up their insides to nourish themselves. Without medicine, my discomfort in Mexico from amoebas turns into death in Africa.
I went through my days there almost perfunctorly, would listen to a person if they made their story available, but I didn´t pry. Now, I wish I had pried, the interviewer in me. But in those moments of listening I began to know this woman sitting next to me, speaking in her lyrical voice, I am cooking with her, and she has experienced a tradegy in life I heretofore have never known. I want to give her my heart, my ears, my love and sit, chopping onions and listen. For the first time in my life. I. REALLY. LISTENED.
The whole crew sat around the campfire on Christmas Eve and listened to Grandpa, Jolly Okot´s father, tell his story. Of many nights, running from their compound, in the bush hiding from the LRA with his family, praying to God not to be discovered. Most clearly I hear him saying "It is because of God that I am now here with you today. Because of God I know I have to give something to my people because we have suffered, but we have survived. God chose me to survive and I will give what I can." Norman, Grandpa...you caused my son to weep when we left you, you caused me to open myself to what love there is in this life. How could one person be worthy of such a gift? I owe you much more than I can give in this one lifetime. Of two Christmas gifts I am most grateful, Sebastian´s birth, 4:55am Christmas Day 2000, and Grandpa talking about the joy of living Christmas Eve 2007.
This is my oh so short story of Gulu and the gifts received when you untie the ribbons. I sent out an email after we returned from Gulu and I will end this post how I ended my email: Lastly, I would say to all of you, go...go to the place where you think you can help. It could be Africa, it could be the house next door to you. Just go and let your heart blossom and work for change, our lives are depending on it.
Peace to you all, biz
A BIG P.S. Thank you to Richard for encouraging me to believe that children have a right to travel and experience at a young age what some adults are afraid to see. That we have made three lovely children is already a joy, that you believe in the power of change because of a child...you´re my dreamboat. I know there are few husbands and fathers that are cut of your cloth. Everyday I wake up grateful for you, for your adventure, for your open heart. I love you. Thank you to ´becca for also encouraging me to belive traveling with children and teaching them about love can be done at home and in the world. ´bec, you are a constant source of inspiration in my life and I value our friendship so much more because I never thought there would be a friend like you in this world. Thank you also for your quote "go after love as if your life depended upon it...it does." To both of you, I look foward to many more adventures!
