Famous Last Words: Halloween Costumes

I really believed it when I said it, too:

"I will never give in to the new-fangled way of buying halloween costumes when I could just make one!"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA.

Last year I found a cute little cow one piece hoodie suit for fifty cents, and he was just six months old, so it did not really count, right? But this year, when I realized that it would take me weeks to sew it and I truly could not buy even the fabric for that cute little pumpkin outift for less than the $11 price tag, I hung my head in shame. I like to sew and craft, but not out of spite, and rarely to a deadline. And $11. Thread and notions and cloth, never mind the time, which would have been enjoyable. So, I bought it. And he is darn cute in it, too.

But is this the way it is going to go now for the next years? I do not mean the famous last words part. I fully expect to be denouncing those ideal statements of fervor for years to come. I mean the costumes thing. I looked around the room today at a moms group halloween party and all the kids were adorable, but the costumes are just so....consumerist! The super hero is all spandex and real muscles and comic book copyrighted images all around. But, then again, lets not paint the past with the glory days marker. When I was but a wee lass, the super hero costume would have been blue and red sweat pants and sweatshirt drawn all over with permanent marker. And, after all the effort put into the fine drawings by a loving parent, you would still look almost indistinguishable from a scribble. A scribble with superpowers who had to go around saying, No, I'm Spiderman, can't you tell!!! [Umm, no, you look like a scribble.]

I had several memorable costumes. I am sure I did witch, and of course in high school all the girls dressed like variations of hooker. Oh, so wild, right? But I was also a thermometer. That was fun. I know, I was a nerd, even as a wee lass. A wee nerd.

I suppose I will adapt to the ways of less creativity if I must. Regardless of its past, hopefully I can impart to my children that Halloween can be a celebration of fun. Just plain, simple fun.

Miracle of the Lap

I was eating Cheerios. He is playing. Pushing chairs around. Now picking things up off of the floor and putting them in the trashcan. Things like the Cheerios that he recently and ceremoniously ejected from the table himself. He plays by himself in long stretches but mostly stays within my aura, only wandering a little further away for brief moments, but at those times he bounds back into the room where I am and up into my arms. Wanting a kiss. Then release and off again.

But at some point he climbs up into my lap. Just to sit there, wanting that closeness with Mama.

This is such a special stage of independence. Everyone assumes that independence is all about letting go. But if that were true we would all live isolated and never see anyone else. A hermit, incidentally, does not live in isolation. For a hermit can only be seen as living solitary in relationship to her/his community. Otherwise you are just a nut reputed to live in the desert or forest. No contact.

Closeness is such an important part of independence and of developing healthy relationships with people and God and saints and angels. My son is not sitting here in my arms by default. We are nursing less than ever now. Mostly just after he wakes up from his nap, sometimes also in the morning when he wakes up, sometimes not at all. But his need for love, for closeness, for spiritual sharing through physical touch as not disappeared. Now he chooses. He chooses to be hugged. To try the cereal with milk that I am eating. We share our energy back and forth, loving.

Adults need that closeness, too, and too many of us are out of the habit.
Closeness, physical touch from friends, neighbors, lovers in kindness, creates a spiritual awareness. Give a peaceful handshake instead of a hurried one. Put a hand on a shoulder. Sit close. Draw someone in for a hug or a side-arm embrace. Place a hand on someone's arm, look them in the eye, say Thank-you.

Choose.

Choose to pay attention to the people in your life. Choose to Love.

A Falling Leaf

We most often think of starting as starting something NEW. Turning over a new leaf. And given my topic, turning over a new leaf in the book of life, or research, might seem a propos. But I am not srtarting someting new, rather trying desperately to put life back into something lying dormant. And as I look out my window I see the aumn leaves falling almost as if it were snowing. Big yellow snowflakes one by one by one. Getting through all the old leaves, letting them go, so that the sap can ferment and later rise to push out new life.

I have my proposal half finished, and I need to finish it.

My family has been under considerable strain. Job loss, house selling, moving, new job, brand new lifestyle. The only thing that I can do at this point to help make things better, less stressful for all of us, is to work on and ultimately finish, my dissertation. Finishing my dissertation is the only thing that I can do to create future opportunities for myself. I want desperately to finish. I think that this realization is finally providing the motivation I need to buckle down.

My friend Terri helped me to realize that I have to, and am ready to, take responsibility for my work.
Bill and I agreed that he would come home at 4 on Tues, Wed, and Thurs. so that I could get work done. And he has been, and patiently giving me space. But I have not been sending myself to work. Now I will. Every Tu-Th, no matter how much work acutally happens, I will be here sitting at the computer trying to get the inspiration and motivation to flow, and doing what I can in the mean time. Nothing will ever happen if I am hanging around downstairs. And Nico and Bill will be fine.

And knowing that I will have this work time, I can stop feeling guilty about the rest of the day. When Nico laid down for a nap today, I took one too. Then I awoke feeling rested and ready to work. Or ready to be ready.

Dear Saint Frumentius [Oct 27], you were shipwreked on the shore of a foreign land. And Yet you found a way to work and use your gifts, to spread the Gospel and the Peace of Christ. Guide my thoughts and actions, give me strength. Amen.

Newsflash: Weather Happens Every Day

Weather. It is what is going on outside your huts and houses even when nothing is going on. Sitting on the front porch swing, listening to the birdies chirping, all quiet. Just Weather.
Warm. Cool. Slight Breeze. Cloudy. Drizzly. Sunny. Blue Sky deep enough to make you cry. Purple clouds stacked towards heaven, throwing down vengeance and mystery, the air charged with anticipation. The life cycle powered by rains and sun, seeds on the wind. And sometimes death. Always weather.

I love the weather. I see the Spirit of God connecting us all.

So I just do not understand and in fact rather dislike it when people complain about the weather.

I do not expect anyone to shout Hooray for the Hurricane! Yay for Flooding!

But if it is sunny, someone complains it is hot, and if it is cloudy, someone complains that it is gloomy.

Why do rainy days have to be gloomy?? Why not relaxing? Quiet? And Joyful!! When it rains I can hear the plants singing, rejoicing in the nourishment that the water is and that the water brings with it as it trickles down to the roots and into the water table.

I don't mind small talk about the weather. And I am always interested in the way the weather affects our lives. But whining and complaining about the weather is strange and pointless.

Maybe it is just me, but when I step out my door, barring death, dying and destruction, I want to exclaim to anyone who will listen (and not kill me): Beautiful Day, is it not? Today, Yellow leaves floating down like love notes from the Divine, gentle misty spa treatment, soft grey skies of relaxation and warm tea. Beautiful Day.

More Weather tomorrow, y'all, every day until the last.

You Do Not *Feel* Like It ?!!

Prison.

Clap Clap.
Prison. Clap Clap. Prison in the morning, Prison in the Noontime. Prison. Clap Clap. Prison. Clap Clap. Prison the whole day long.

Now usually this song is sung {sing sang sung} with "Jesus" instead of "prison", but whenever I speak to my friend Unzell, this version of that song pops into my head. It's always right at the moment where I automatically say, "Hi! How are you?" I hear how stupid it sounds as I say it, and I resolve to say something different next time, but next time comes and I invariably blurt out that same trite thing AGAIN. Grr. I hate trite, and I hate admitting that I am just as enslaved to accidental triteness as anyone.

So we are talking today and I am telling him about my progress in losing weight and being healthier. I said that it is not enough to want it and feel motivated today. I have 80 or so pounds to go, and then I want to stay healthy after that, so one little bit of enthusiasm is not enough. It has to be a committment.

He laughed in recognition. He is in a wheelchair, in prison, paralyzed from the waist down. He said that for him, staying strong is a necessity because otherwise he can't get around, and needs to be able to get around by himself without any reliance on anyone else, not just for health but for *safety*. I try not to let my imagination get specific about what he means by safety, but I think I get it. So he'll be in the gym working out and some other guy will come in and say, 'man, I'm really not feelin' it today.' And he'll say, 'What the heck are you talkin' about? Not feelin' it. Please. Just do it. Get to work or get out of the gym. If you want your body to look like mine you got some Work to do. Not feelin' it!'

He chuckles.

'Don't ever let your feelin's stand in the way of gettin' what you want. You can work out your feelin's any way you like, but just don't let 'em get in the way.'

You preach it Unzell. I am listening. Listening and changing my ways.

Prison's not a cakewalk, y'all. Don't believe what you read in the papers. Go see for yourself.