For my children

Oliver and Benjamin, When you are old enough to read this,I will share this letter with you both. Somehow I will attempt to put into words. The meaning of life. Here goes: Thoughts, ideas, and feelings are energy in a form that human scientists haven't yet been able to detect. Quantum physics suggests that reality is based on what is observed /perceived. I don't know enough about the facts (I continue to study and educate myself as I go). Here's what I know. As far as scientists can detect so far, the fabric of the universe is capable of bending and twisting in all directions. This means that we have pretty much no individual control in the grand scheme of things. Time and space do not give a shit about our hopes and dreams. HOWEVER, joy and love and beauty and all the other wonderful things about living here on Earth are possible in so many ways, every moment of every day. Here is the metaphor I find best represents my spiritual beliefs that I would like you to consider as you grow. (You will figure out whatever you believe along the way). Not surprisingly, it involves puppets In the "puppet show" of human Earth life- we are not able to clearly perceive it- but we are creating what occurs on stage in collaboration with a "higher" version of ourselves/everyone. (this You + Everyone is a collective consciousness that isn't contained in bodies, it flows freely directed by a balance of intention and chance). We, our "selves" are simultaneously writing and revising the script, directing, stage managing, acting, designing the "set" and improvising when the curtain comes up and the lights come on. Further explanation about the puppet show; Our bodies are the "puppets." We bring life into them on the stage with our thought/idea/feeling energy. The stage and the set are where we are in time and space- there are infinite sets, stages, and different versions of the show in infinite dimensions. Our perception is confined to this particular "puppet show", this lifetime, this string of moments on Earth-because that is the design of this human "Earth" experiment. All beings ("we/ us") communicate and demonstrate lessons and scenarios on stage for growth and development. We do this because there is "magic" in pretending. What happens on stage is "real" but it's only one version of "reality." When the puppet show is over the puppeteers continue to exist! The next show will be in an entirely different setting with different puppets playing different parts. It's a comedy and a tragedy and a coming of age story all rolled into one. So play along. But don't ever forget that you are also an audience member. You can applaud and you can say encore and you can boo as well. You can break the "4th wall" in your life and ask for what you need- demand it if things get to be Overkill. You can completely rewrite /overhaul the script and the players and all of it if need be. But don't you EVER leave the theater. This is your story. The show must go on. Like I said, each human lifetime or incarnation is another puppet show. But it's not just *our* show. We're sharing the stage! Other stories are happening too. Your story is important and it is your responsibility but it is happening collaboratively. All the other players are important contributors to ALL of the stories being told on that stage. They are also the writer/director/actor in their own play that they perceive through their own human puppet body. In reality, we're all behind the curtain together observing and creating the world, making it up as we go along. At the same time, it seems likely to me that we have each chosen and accepted the possible realities that come with each incarnation. It's not a contract- it doesn't have to unfold a certain way- but I suspect that the storytellers and puppeteers made some sort of agreement about story elements, themes, and conflicts. With this understanding keep in mind that: *Fun and joy and play are valuable and necessary. Don't be bullied into stifling your wonder and delight. We need to be able to take responsibility and also to amuse ourselves and each other. Let yourself be delighted. Let yourself light up. Do the same for others. *"Hurt people hurt people". It doesn't make it ok to hurt people but the phrase EXPLAINS what's really happening "back stage". Yes, there are evil ones who do damage and harm. Whatever malevolent intent they came with is born of pain, suffering, trauma, mental and physical illness. They need healing. This does NOT make it your job to fix them or heal them, though it's ok to be a participant in the process given healthy boundaries. But just know that in order to counter evil / destruction / violence with love/ compassion/ community we must operate with the understanding that the script and the set and the cast of a destructive harmful person's puppet show is based in their own darkness and sorrow. Don't get swept up in that. Witness it. Observe it. Process. But don't take it on as your own. Protect yourself from people and things that suck the energy out of you by doing and surrounding yourself with things that bring you serenity and make you feel strong. Someone else's pain can and may quite easily hurt you, that is part of life. But negative drama is a distraction from right now. Do acitivities that replenish and fullfil you and make you feel the most like yourself. Try not to hurt others but if you do, seek to understand the origin of the harm you caused and how to heal from it. If others hurt, you take note of how everything went down, learn what you need to, and then let go and move on. You don't *have* to suffer to grow. Sometimes that's how it happens but it's only one way- you're not here to be victimized. You're here to survive and overcome any hardships that life throws at you.  Try really hard not to take the hardships and bad luck personally. It just comes with the whole "human Earth body" thing. It's mixed in there with joy and love and laughter and all the great stuff. And frustratingly as hell, the yucky stuff and the beautiful stuff often appear at the same time, waltzing into your life hand in hand asking you to dance. It's a total freak show but you let your freak flag fly! You do you. Be who you know you are. And try to love that you as much as I do because I helped to bring you here. Your cells are literally made of me and Dad (and our parents and their parents etc) I know, gross. I can't wait to watch you grow up and weave our stories together. I'm so glad you're here! I like like being "mom" in your puppet play. Thanks for the opportunity ;) You already make me so proud. Love, Mama

Gratitude

Healthy children and husband
Piano in my house
Glitter glue sensory bottles
Playlists
Ben and his orange circle
Early intervention
Elizabeth Warren
Greta thurenburg (sp)
Heated seats in the Subaru
Tinky
Ollie's ability to connect and be affectionate
Peter the super Dad
Asian cuisine
Memory foam
Dreamcatchers
My drive to work
Cooks farm
Cathy Servaise
Youngy
Queer Eye
Baystate NICU
Mom's matching socks and jewelry
Dad's help with all things practical
Zulia is in touch
Alexandra Ocasio Cortez
Making kids laugh
Heidi WW leader
Coloring pages
Lynn Werthamer
Eunice Aviles
Coffee
Fairies
Biofreze
Asherah Allen
My job
Tattoos
Trees
YouTube
8

A song I am working on

APRIL SNOW

1
Slide the fear onto to stage
Microscope zooms in on your rage
It's invisible to the naked eye
From behind a doll's face you lie
Worry worry telescope
Search for tragedy search for hope
Twinkle twinkle Little girl
You are meant for this world
Tell the liars in your head
that you are already dead
then they'll maybe leave you alone
so you can finally go back home
And say...

Chorus:Thank you universe
My blessings were never a curse
Magnify the lens and focus in
Fear and anger are first cousins
The glass breaks but doesn't shatter
You're too close to see what's the matter
This experiment surely hasn't failed
So go back to sleep, tuck in your tail
Fold up your wings theres no more you can do
When you wake I promise you'll be you... again

2
You'll spread those lids apart
See the living contents of your heart
Growing strong and breathing free
Learning all there is to be
Balance the joy and agony
Thankful for their safe delivery
Look both ways, you'll see a reflection
Stop trying so hard to find perfection
The car spun out on April snow
Up the down mountain and around you go
And no one was coming either way
To give us all a very bad day
So...

3
The punishment is this
You have to live your bliss
No apologies for being real
Moments fleeting, time to heal
If you thank your lucky stars
It doesn't mean you don't have scars
It doesn't mean you aren't you
If you stop to breathe and count to 2
Twinkle twinkle Little teacher
Human fairy, mortal creature
Blessed be and namaste
Sometimes it sucks and that's okay
Thank you universe for today

"Hide and Seek:" My teaching dream

Lately at work I have been conscious of the need to constantly return to the real purpose of teaching, not to be swept away by all the bullshit that comes along with "school" as we know it. I'm finding myself needing ongoing reminders about letting go and just being with kids. Here is a dream I had the night of February 25, that I wanted to share with fellow teacher people.


I'm at a co-worker's farm where many of us teachers have spent the night. We were on some kind of weekend retreat, camping and preparing ourselves for the week ahead. I suddenly realize that my alarm on my cell phone didn't go off and I'm already late for work. I try to get on my cell phone to call in, let them know I'm on my way. I can't get a signal, and every time I try to call back something goes wrong. I am stressed out because I have a big important meeting on this day and it's already started and I'm not there. For some reason missing this particular meeting in the dream means I will be in big trouble.

So I scramble to get ready despite the fact that I wasn't able to contact the people at work. I don't know how I got to this farm or why I came here. I am looking for my lunch in the fridge and other teachers are also getting their stuff together. Looks like I'm not the only one who overslept. I walk out the door to try to find where I parked.

The is a long dirt pathway with kids of all ages, races, nationalities going to school. They also seem to be from many different time periods. Some of them are walking with no shoes, some of them are riding scooters, some of them are on bikes, some of them are carrying each other in a wheelbarrow. All kinds of kids all around me. I am pulled by them, energetically, I can't separate myself from these kids, even though I think that I'm heading to my place of work, they insist that I'm supposed to be with them. We're all going to school they tell me. So I follow them.

We crouch down at the bottom of a big hill. We are supposed to be watching, witnessing. At the top of the hill we watch an elder Native American chief (Sioux I believe) with a long feathered headdress, circling around a large pillar of wood. Branches have been woven together and a made into pyre, only it is not burning. The chief sings and shakes something that makes a rattling noise around the structure. The children are very excited that he is blessing the wood and that the sky is open and accepting this offering.
http://www.art.com/gallery/id--a4494/edward-s-curtis-posters.htm
It now becomes clear to me that I'm supposed to stop stressing about being in trouble or missing the meeting. I put my phone away. I am here to witness this teaching, this beauty. The kids are showing me something, and they want me to help them. So I go with them, now that the ritual is done, inside a museum. These kids seem to have school at the museum. It has many different exhibits from different periods of time. The theme seems to be Native American and African American history. I am to understand that many generations of kids have been at this school and many of their ancestors were slaves. There are native guides showing the kids what school used to mean- there are books, photos, artifacts. The guide shows us how "back in the day" they used to play a game where you hide yourself. It was like reverse hide and seek because the hiders were looking for the seeker. This school had lots of great hiding spots. The hide and seek game had to do with revealing yourself when you were ready and surprising or sneaking up on the "seeker". Quite the metaphor.

The kids started to play the game and got quite rowdy. Other school with their groups of kids showed up with their teachers. I was given looks by the guides for not keeping my kids in line. So I looked over at my fellow team teachers (who were suddenly there with me) and we joined hands. We smiled at the kids and we got them quieted down without shaming them or yelling. We all understood that our team work was good for them and that we were showing them love, which they needed.


Then my principal showed up and she was smiling at the kids too- we thought maybe she was pleased with this unexpected field trip. Suddenly everyone was gone except for me and the principal. She yelled at me and criticized me for missing that meeting, saying that my job and reputation could suffer. She left me crying on a bench, where I wailed like a little kid, angry that she didn't understand the real teaching that was going on. I ran out the door of the museum back to the dirt path where all the kids had led me.

When I woke up I understood that this dream is me, telling myself: Teaching is about the kids. They have something to show you, and it's your job to lead them and guide them. The "hide and seek" game is the important part of the job. We are revealing ourselves to ourselves and to each other. We are on a journey together- exploring and discovering. Play with the kids, make them laugh, smile and hold hands. Hug them. Follow them and lead them.

This "school" environment that we're in of policies created to avoid liability, punishing teachers and kids for their wants and needs, conformity, imprisonment, indoctrination, etc. All that is crap. I can still be a teacher and reject the bullshit parade of do's and don'ts. I usually play by the rules, but that doesn't mean I can't be myself with the kids. The dream really told me that the kids will lead the way. Follow the leader. Hide and seek. Take turns.

A Day Trip to Misqamicut ("miss-kwah-mih-kutt"): Don't Take Joy in a Dead Skunk.

A Day Trip to Misqamicut ("miss-kwah-mih-kutt"): Don't Take Joy in a Dead Skunk.

On the way to Misqamicut Beach, smelling Erzulia's clove cigarettes, blasting pulsating international drum beats, we race down the highway. I observe:

Yellow leaves dancing their way down to the street of some off ramp to some Connecticut town.

A dumbass macho man riding his motorcycle with only one hand on the handlebars,and no helmet on his obviously bad-to-the-bone head.

Bright orange signs, one of which warns us "No stopping. Correctional Facility Ahead." I imagine the cops are trying to tell us to stay out or they might mistake us for fugitives and shoot us. Erzulia explains they don't want people to pick up hitchhikers here. Oh. Duh. More orange signs read "Bump," one after the other. I say that I want to take a picture next to one of those signs some day when I'm pregnant.

A beat-up Lincoln with "Pro-child, Pro-choice" and "I'm straight but not narrow" stickers, driven by a youngish white dude sporting a cowboy hat with an American flag around the brim, the hood of his car displaying giant bull horns. Rock on.

Now I've decided there's already so much interesting and cool stuff going on and we've only just left, so I asked Erzulia for a pad of paper. Her car is like a second home, so of course she has one, and ten different kinds of pens to choose from. We decide to stop and pee, and unwittingly take the exit for what is marked in big letter as the "Submarine Capital of the World," Groton. The golden arches of McDonalds beckon us with the promise of toilets and sinks. We are greeted at the door by a glaring yellow, white, and red Ronald McDonald, grinning maniacally on a plastic park bench by the trash bins and condiments. No way Ronald, am I sitting next to you, you creepy, shiny, plastic icon! I will not drink your kool-aid no matter how many billions and billions have been served! We quicken our pace to the ladies room, where Madonna's "Ray of Light" can be heard. Hmmm.... Interesting.

As we set out again on our journey we can hear the rumbling of long-haired motorcycle Mama's, approaching ever faster. Mystic Pizza suddenly peaks my puppy-like interest! Oh my God, Mystic Pizza! I love Mystic Pizza! A-a-a-and it's gone. Erzulia, you cruel temptress.

Continuing along on our journey, I am excited and intrigued at the following sights:

A 1950's bubblegum pink car, which is across the street perhaps not coincidentally, from a bright pink house

A residence displaying a bright yellow flag across its porch railing. It depicts a striking snake underlined by the phrase "Don't tread on me." Friendly folks they must be.

The 11th or 12th cop car of the journey thus far, waiting on the side of the road for some fuck-up or another. If a car could twiddle its thumbs that's what these cars would do.

The statue of a bunny rabbit on its hind legs decorating someone's fence, my 4th bunny sighting of the summer.

A gigantic, melancholy, stone angel with outstretched wings, seated on a grave in a vast cemetery overlooking the water.

Now we have reached our destination, and are immediately surrounded by young and pert teens wearing bikinis and flip-flops. More cops mingle with EMTs across the street from the outrageously expensive parking lot. Maybe they're waiting for someone to freak out and have a heart attack at the cost. The parking lot attendant, a raspy sun-baked lady, recognizes Erzulia who is a regular, and inquires about her Cactus, Julia. Julia is fine thank you. She lives at home now, she kept tipping over in the car.

We squish into the changing rooms and into bathing suits, which is always somewhat laborious for me and my ample bosom. Get in there girls! Get! In! There you go.. And then-

We are at the beach! Hot sand sinks beneath our feet, colorful beach umbrellas create a kind of chaotic canopy, (that alliteration couldn't be helped), the smell of fried food entices the air, which is thick with the endless, joyful chatter of those strange creatures called human beings, returning to their source. We all move toward that unfathomable, sandwiched horizon of blue on blue on white on blue. Mamas bounce their babies in the waves, young lovers coo and cling to one another, Erzulia shrugs off the fact that her nipples are totally visible through her top, while I cautiously monitor the delicate placement of my "girls," who always seem to crave freedom when they hit those waves. And who can blame them? Sorry ladies, we can't stay forever.

We're back in the car, salt on our lips, hair all askew, skin crusted with sand, ready for round two of this mini road trip. Bye-bye stone angel., Erzulia noticed your arms are tiny but I assured her you will be okay because your wings will carry you. Bye-bye pink car. Hey, wait a minute! I notice in the same yard is one of my all-time favorite lawn decorations: a little sign in the shape of a dog shitting that simply exclaims "No!" as if any dogs considering relieving themselves there will stop and think, "Oh look a shitting dog, I'm a dog who needs to shit, but wait, it says, 'No!' Too bad. Guess I'll have to shit somewhere else." Don't they know dogs can't read!?

Again we find ourselves passing through the Submarine Capital of the World, and wonder how we didn't notice on our way in the giant replica of a canon's machine gun in the center of town. Erzulia wonders why cities display weapons like that, and I imagine out loud that it's their way of saying, "We're hot shit because we have these big, powerful weapons and this is how we got control of this town in the first place, so while you're here, don't fuck with us cause we'll destroy you. Welcome to our city. " Am I paranoid? Probably.

Now we are in Mystic again and we stop at the Sea Swirl for fried clammy goodness. And a side of fries. Cause what goes better with fried food than more fried food? We sit in the shade on a park bench and I admire the cute, little birdies hopping along looking for food. Can we give them a fry? I ask Erzulia. She chucks the fry at the bird, and of course, more birds instantly make their way over to our area. Birdy #1 is smart, and takes his fry closer to the street. The big seagulls amuse Erzulia, who proceeds to toss fry after fry to the same sea gull. I express concern for his cardiovascular system and she reminds me that he is a scavenger and this is his food source. She is made giddy by the sea gull's appreciation watching his wriggle his neck to get the fry down his gullet. I later remark how I love the word "gullet" and intend to use it in my poem. Mission accomplished.

Before heading out again, I skip over to Dunkin Donuts to use the bathroom. How lovely, some lady or girl left a big turd in the toilet just for me. I flush the toilet trying not to hurl. As I am peeing I think about how passive aggressive it is to leave your shit in a public toilet. In my head I start to make excuses for the turd-leaver. Maybe it was a little kid who is still learning. I describe the turd to Erzulia when I return to the car and as you can imagine she was enthralled and wanted to hear more. Not.

Driving through the rest of Mystic, I see a super buff woman wearing a white sports bra and little shorty shorts. She has platinum blond hair cropped short and is walking spiritedly along with some old shlub. I appreciate how totally jacked she is and wonder about the relationship between the two.

Just before we get on the interstate, I describe to Erzulia this gorgeous sculpture of a horse we just passed by. It's huge, golden brown, and made of sheet metal. It looks like a magical being who just appeared next to someone's house, intent on carrying him or her away to some far-off land. I'll go with you, horsey! Take me to the Abarat! We merge onto the highway. Alas, I will stay in this world.

I share with Erzulia that the reason I have noted all these sights and sounds in writing is because I recently saw a reality TV show with a young woman who is going blind, due to a degenerative eye disease and that I was inspired by her message to appreciate, notice, and take joy in every little thing. Just as I am saying that, we pass a dead skunk on the side of the road. I add to my sentiment, "But don't take joy in a dead skunk, 'cause that's sad. " This is suddenly hilarious to me and I chuckle and guffaw, giving myself the hiccups as I always do when I laugh this hard. Poor Erzulia tries to add to the conversation with something serious and profound about life's little blessings and I keep bursting into laughter and then explaining that I'm still on about the dead skunk. She muses that the quote, "Don't take joy in a dead skunk cause that's sad," would be the type of thing her 16-year-old daughter, whom I have watched grow up, would post as her facebook headline. I agree, it's perfect for that purpose.

The journey comes to an end and I am dropped off at my car, just in time to get to my regular Tuesday night activity. We hug the familiar and extra long embrace of old friends, and I thank her for such a fantastic day. She informs me that she's going back in a few days. I wish I could accompany her again, and notice all the funny, weird, and beautiful things along the way once more, but then it occurs to me. I don't have to drive to the beach to do that. Tomorrow there will be all kinds of obscure, notable moments to reflect upon. And again, the day after that, and so on. I silently thank the Universe for the richness and utter inanity of life, which is already, as many have said, a beach.

Possibilities

There are no certainties, only possibilities. This has always terrified me. I want to KNOW without a doubt that my life, my career, my relationships, my family will happen in a particular sequence, in a specific direction. But life is never like that. John Lennon said "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. So many "accidents" happen, which themselves are the catalysts for events to unfold, for our spiritual and mental transformation. The past is already over, the present is immediately ending and the future is determined by the present. (Woops there it goes, it's in the past already). The future will not necessarily be what I want, what I think is right, what I plan for. And most of the time my plans end up having not been so good for me. "God" has a better plan. Only it's not a plan. It's a "choose your own adventure" story I'm writing, directing, and starring in.

The hardest part is the fear of the unknown. It's like I'm trying to navigate through a dark room. What if I step on something? What if I bump into the wall? What if I'm not where I thought I was? It's as though my inability to see actually changes the dimensions of the room. No. It's all there I just have to put one foot in front of the other. I will find my way across, even if I do fall down. Because of this fear, I am either hesitant to move or I'm running recklessly, blindly toward what I can only imagine is the direction of the exit. But then I've spent all my time in a panic of paralysis and paranoia. This is no way to cross a room.

I'm finding that my life can be a lot easier than I usually make it for myself. My habit has been to set myself up for "failures" and disappointments. There is this internal myth originated by an ego starved for attention that says "Let downs can be prevented if you just never expect or hope for anything good. Then you're already down and it will hurt less to fall from a shallower depth." So then I spent my life hovering 3 inches above myself, as a witness, unaware that I was the storyteller and not some innocent bystander. Disappointments still happened. Mistakes were still made, pain still was inflicted. And it actually hurt MORE because all I could ever see, facing the ground was... the ground! And I wondered, why does the ground always cause me to fall, completely unaware that I was the one falling on it, tripping over my feet, refusing to climb too high. I thought by controlling my conditions, only staying where it was "safe" that my life would be more predictable. I found all kinds of ways to avoid noticing that "safe" was pretty sucky, lonely, unhealthy, and I was actually OUT of control, disempowered, chasing my own tail inside my head.

Now I am actually climbing, or navigating the dark room, or whatever you want to call it. I have no idea what's going to happen, and I can't pretend to know. The only certainty is that there will be surprises! There are some things I CAN control though. I can choose to accept and embrace being "in the dark" and make some discoveries about myself and the places I can go if I just put one foot in front of the other. I can choose to soak up the joy, the blessings, the moments of beauty, the insights, the humor, the irony, the love, the intimacy, the POSSIBILITIES present in each day of my life. Instead of torturing myself with worries, doubts and fears I can just let go, take a deep breath, and as Dory the fish would say, "Just keep swimming." Because I am SURE to get hurt, fall down, be disappointed as a human person with a life to live. But I can also heal, mend, and come back stronger and wiser. Do I trust and love myself enough to do this? I suppose it's not certain, but it's a possibility.