Ranting 101- The insidious perfection module

This post will be founded in rhetoric. Focused in a semi-dreamland. My hope is to provoke conversation that may or may not entice change and movement. We need one another.

The ridiculous notion of being “everything” as a parent has left a void in our connectedness. It’s left the human element incomplete. We are, in fact, left with missing pieces of ourselves trickled throughout the “have-it-all’s” that society pressures us to adopt. Not pressures, bulldozes. Why can’t we just have what we actually want?

We long for community, for organized togetherness. We stretch ourselves thin to be mom, wife, sister, aunt, lover, friend, daughter, boss, co-worker. Why? Why can’t we have a village. When we are hurt or injured, why can’t there be an answer right next door? When we are out of sugar, why must we run to the store? Why can’t we ask a village member?

When one of us cannot do life anymore, why can’t the one who can at the moment take over the dishes or the parenting or the damn laundry? And not just for a day or a week at a time. Not just as a visit here and there throughout the year. My wish is for it to be the NORM. The gold standard of living. We complete each other.

We are blasted with media images about “wolf-packs” and tribes and sisterhoods, and we answer those panging feelings of missing with a “thumbs up” to the photos that resemble those sentiments. Yet, we don’t seek to connect the virtual ones with the tangible potential of actual community. We longingly reach towards equally needing hands for comfort, for purpose, and for help, and yet…we don’t have the means/capacity/job or resident flexibility to celebrate it. We acquiesce to alienating motherhood. We post impossible perfection, only to close our eyes after we commit to send the farce that is said post. We are not always perfect. We are not always happy. And we DON’T have to always be alone.

So my question is, why the hell can’t we? Why can’t we find a piece of land with our wolf packs, and choose to live simply? To be there for one another unconditionally? To quench the thirst for our tribe on a daily basis. We need the guts, the money, and the cessation of excuses. I know these four friends talk about it, communicate and dream about it on the regular. Will it happen one day?  I think it will. I pray it will.

Let’s bring together all our talents and live the life of COMMUNE-ity. Isn’t that the root of the word after all? To be together in a sense that everyone has one another to lean on. Through the hardships of marriage strife, work stress, kid drama, and interpersonal agony. This is my solemn confession. A dignified admittance for the need to coexist. A demand for more like mindedness.

I am in….Are you in?

 

Let’s stop the social media epidemic. Let’s remember the times of friend therapy being a half mile bike ride away. Let us teach our children of cord phones, and the advancements of human cohesion. Let’s help fuse the gaping chasms technology has created amongst our generations by teaching older ways of loving..of being…of human being.

We live in an era of separation. I personally, am against it. No matter what side you stand on, however, know that I love you. For your part in the experiment we call life. For my part in the choice to participate in yours, and for the benefit of all of us.

 

Dear Mom, I see you.

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My mom and my son.

Mom,

Gush-y-ness is almost bursting out of me just when I phonetically begin to say the word. The smile of endearment that presides every time you enter my thoughts, blows the whistle on the teenager you once knew, who would protest your protection and tell you to “go away”. The one who knew better than you, and the one who stubbornly and willfully “went my own way” in times you wanted me to go yours because you knew I’d benefit from your wisdom. The confident lioness of young womanhood who played all the sports, had the lifelong friends she’d always wanted, and the family that was nuclear.

That smile has a second agenda. It also reveals the broken, battered, unappreciated, rattled, and worn-too- thin woman that currently calls herself a young mother of young children. Ok, maybe not so young at 34, but young-ish. A woman drowning in her responsibilities, not gracefully, and making ultimate mistakes that may or may not be founded in anything but simple selfishness. The one who is struggling and cautiously pacing through learning the necessary lessons in respect, gratitude, positive parenting, and overall happiness from the foundation of family, unconditional love, loyalty, and respect that you have given me.

The one who has the uncanny ability to forget who she is, guilt herself, and throw away remembering the DAILY good she performs in order to feel the almost masochistic weight of the “it wasn’t good enough.”

The one who is now referring to herself in the third person, because maybe that part of me, isn’t really real.

Scratch that. she IS real. And she is enough. And she is beaming with pride to call herself your daughter.

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That I can open my arms to that part of me, is because of you. You love unconditionally and accept all of me at a capacity that I am so profoundly lucky to know. I see you.

I am writing to you, about you, so you can see who you are in my eyes. I write of my brokenness so you can KNOW that you had every part in creating the strength in me to see the imperfection, and tackle it. To fall onto that foundation that you’ve so preciously and delicately worked with me to build.


4151_683495597259_329027_nI write to you to show you that you are my way-shower, my example of what defines grace and sacrifice. But who also personifies a silent power that I never knew existed until I became a mother. I see you.

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I often hear people refer to you as “angelic”. Your heart is both understanding and practically constructive in the same breath. It is peacemaking, authentic, and wise. It is all shades of happiness, and dynamically persistent in the acceptance of all with which you are facing.

People always say, “What until you have kids.” And they are right. I could never understand what blessings could lie behind the characteristic of beautiful patience. I have always watched, in awe, your ability to quiet your mind, and open your mouth to reveal the most perfectly and divinely guided words. A shining example of outwardly expressed love. I see you.

You’ve walked with me through all of my trials and tribulations. First, through childhood, through shyness and tom-boyhood. Always holding me close, and letting the leash out little perfect inch by little perfect inch. You supported me through adolescence, finding the most subtle and gentle ways to nurture me into this new body, and to tell me that I needed to actually shower every once in a while.

Drove me, every day, to school (piano, basketball, lacrosse, dance, music, variety show practice, games, tournaments, etc)from the country, just so I would get to have the experiences I deserved. These were the memories for which you sacrificed your mornings and afternoons. Hell, your whole weekend sometimes. I never once saw the wear of that sacrifice of time on your face. I saw a woman who, without a shadow of a doubt, would always be there for me. Whose pride for her kids, for her life, for her part in the decision to give us this opportunity to have the world more open to us, overshadowed what I know now was ultimately painstakingly sacrificially beautiful.  I see you.

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Who was it that yelled to (not at) me to please take care of myself after surgery, and not overdo it? I saw it then as trying to control me. I see it now for it’s pleading love. The resonance of experienced nursing knowledge in your voice that I had a future in front of me. I had college sports at my feet, and not to ruin my chance to have that opportunity.

I see your sleepless nights of worry through college. Your courage to let me go. A brave mother who let me make my mistakes to learn to truly live. Mistakes in love, in education, and in life.

You walked with me in the journey through Massage School. Learning a new passion for energy work and discovering that you’re pretty badass at trusting your intuition. You showed me that I have an outlet for my human angst in prayer and meditation. And most importantly, in God.

It was you that introduced me to the concept of soul family so that I never have to feel alone, so long as I have a moment to reach out to them. You’ve only grown stronger in that ever since, making spiritual and soul connections that feed you, and build you stronger. Making your faith a priority among a lot of things. Not just a faith in Spirit. A faith in yourself, your family, and your son and daughter. I see you.

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And you did all this through the debilitation of your own pain. You never ever left my side as a mother. Even when the worries of your body’s betrayal left you emotionally weathered and physically exhausted, you never left our side. Not once. I so see you. This was the greatest lesson I ever could learn about the breadths of self that had been undiscoverable to me until my blinders were removed. You courageously walked down an aisle with stairs one gracefully and smiling step at a time, to watch me marry the man that reminds me so much of you and your strength. You didn’t even flinch. You were in so much pain but I never saw it. Sweet sacrifice. I see you. You were so amazing that day, and added everything to the happiness and whimsicality of it.

You gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever been given the day you told me that you, too, have been broken. Someone who seems to me to be the portrait of perfection. To know that you felt anything but that, in body and mind, and came out of the other side not only stronger and more sure of who you are, but also posturing towards happiness, was everything to me. You shared that you came out with a bigger capacity for compassion for others. If actions speak louder than words, then your day to day must be pretty loud, Mom.

Somedays, I feel as though I am that little girl who cried on the bus in first grade, homesick for my mother and my bed. Homesick for her soft hand stroking my head and back. Homesick in this big and scary world for what would make me feel whole, safe, and loved. But then, I remember you. I remember that I don’t care if you hate the photos I am posting, I want to share with the world the person who reminds me of all that I can be capable. Of the qualities that are within me, ready to be utilized at any moment.

I see you, Mom. You were are there, so vividly and immediately, in the moment that I became a mother myself; honoring my strength and wistfully studying your grandson in your arms. It was that day that I knew that I had always had the person I want to be in front of me. It is now that I finally know, I have that person IN me, as well. I am a part of you, as you are of me. I can be enough. I am enough as a mother, because I have been learning its embodiment from birth. My vision is loaded with images of what it looks like to be a mother, memories that create feelings of just what exactly that word means to me. What you, mean to me.

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I wish I knew then what I know now. As I try to stay above water in a world that seems judgemental and impossibly navigated as a mother of two, every bump and bruise I receive that sends me running back to “home”. That place I wish to run now lies within me. It is the part of me that is you. That is brave, silent and patient, strong yet gentle. Angelic, warm and inviting. Open and divine with ambitiously positive and fervent nurturance. Glowingly proudly with a heroic view of the world she has helped build, and hardworking to adjust to its ebbs and flows. You are timelessly beautiful. Breathtakingly loving, and kind just on time. That is who I see. Both in you and now, in the mirror. This bond of sisterhood, of soul connection, runs deep within us.

My proudest moment of my life will be the day I can say,

“My God, I am becoming my mother.” with a grin of resilience, fortitude, and pride in my co-creation, as I cannot think of anything better to be in this whole world.

Because I am your daughter, I see you alive in me.

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Yours with benevolence,

Your daughter.  Kristy

At Home with Christiana: Thinking about that third baby?

As incredibly proud and crazy parents of three little ones, my husband and I have been surprised at how frequently we are asked about the transition from two to three children by families expecting or considering a third child.

What’s it like going from two kids to three?

How is the transition? Is it THAT bad?

Now, aside from wanting to throw my head back and laugh hysterically. Here’s what I would say to you if I had enough time sleep brainpower remaining to think through my answer…

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Life with Three Kids: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Good: Confident Parenting with built-in helpers

There are clearly any number of absolutely joyful and miraculous things about bringing a baby into your family, regardless if it’s your first or fifth. Here’s what we found were the strong points of our ‘third baby’ transition.

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  • Your other kids already have a companion

Your first child had no one else play with but you when you brought home newborn child #2. In my case, I breastfed our babies. Trying to actively engage our first child (who was still a toddler in his own right) while simultaneously nursing our new baby was a big challenge for me. With baby #3, I found this aspect of the transition much easier. My two older boys were already happy to ignore me for blocks of time while playing legos or dress up with each other, so playing together while I was nursing or tending to baby #3 wasn’t a huge deal for them.

 

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  • No only-child adjustment

The change from “only child” is non-existent for your first two kids when you bring home baby #3. Your second child came into this world sharing the spotlight with his/her sibling, and your first child is already settled into the role of big brother or sister. Of course, every child is different, but I have observed among our family and friends that adding the third child is less of of a shock, than it was bringing home #2 for the first-born who enjoyed a window of time as your only child.

 

  • Not your first rodeo

With baby #3, I was much more confident in my abilities to notice problems and make the right decisions for my baby’s well-being (OK I still had Dr. Annie on speed-dial, but maybe less frequently.). You have a lot more experience going into your third baby, and it made me more self-assured as a mother and I was more comfortable trusting my instincts.

 

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  • You have a little helper

Your oldest has a few more years under their belt and is capable of being a much bigger help this go-round. Having a big enough kid to hand-feed their sibling puffs in the back seat of the car is. priceless.

  • Baby-weight schmaby-weight

I remember being completely terrified of my postpartum body the first time around. Would I ever be the same?! Is this even me?! Whose boobs are THESE!?

By baby #3, you know your body can and will rebound from pregnancy. Plus, you won’t have time to sit down or eat an actual meal anyway. So it often comes off fast. Trust me.

The bad: Tardy multi-tasker

I hesitate to even use the word “bad” here, and I’m not saying by any stretch of the imagination that having three children is any way bad. To the contrary, I think having three little people is total awesome-sauce.  BUT,  if we are being real here, I think we can all agree that there are some situations that you just don’t feel good about when they happen, in fact you feel rather bad. And these situations mentioned below, I have found to occur more often with three or more children in tow. Just keeping it real.

  • The call of nature will sabotage your on-time arrival, anywhere.

Someone will need to poo at the exact moment you need to leave the house.  I’m serious. Every. time. Just go ahead and set your alarm to leave  a few minutes earlier, it won’t matter. They’ll wait. And they’ll still “haaaaave to go!” at the time of departure. Nature: 1. On-time arrivals as a family of five: 0. Just don’t fight it.

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“Must be time to pick up my brother!”
  • Someone will nap when and only when you have to pick up or drop off another child.

This is enough to make a sleep-deprived parent of three want to put their head through a wall. But it’s infuriatingly true. The ability of your third baby to set their nap schedule to directly conflict with your other children’s schedules is uncanny.

  • Referee, shoes, snacks… and baby 

You will have to do everything for baby #3  that you did with baby #1 and baby #2, except you will now need to do it while either (1) refereeing your other children;  (2) frantically looking for your other children’s shoes; or (3) making a snack. No exceptions.

The Ugly: Exhausted germaphobe

  • NO. SLEEP.

For me, the ugliest part of adding baby #3 was lack of sleep. If you have your children close together, (ours are each 2 years apart) you still have little people that may have trouble sleeping through the night, or need reassurance that they are still your babies too (which often, for us, translated to mommy or daddy hugs and tuck-ins at random hours of the night). There’s no way to make it easy, but if you can try to remember that it will pass rather quickly, and even better if you have a partner or family member that can help alternate/take shifts, you will get through. Take any ALL of the freezer meals and offers to walk to your dog or pick up your other kids. It really takes a village, especially when you’re running a three child circus.

  • School germ-warfare

With baby #3, you will have two germ-covered angels coming from school or daycare everyday sharing a home with your new baby. You will, without a doubt, look down to help one child with a shoe/band-aid/tissue/whatever and look up to see your other child’s germ-covered finger/backpack strap/shoe-lace in your baby’s mouth. You can no longer run man-to-man defense. You just can’t. This sent me into complete germa-phobe mode. I surrounded our baby with bottles of sanitizer and shouted “pump before you touch!!” like a crazy-lady.  And sometimes no matter what you do, baby will get colds, (and no one will sleep) but all you can do is your best. And in the meantime buy sanitizer for your car, your purse, their backpacks, and every room in your house.

Did you know James Corden and Stephen Colbert both have three kids? They do. And they sum up the transition from two kids to three with incredible accuracy and humor here. If you or anyone you know is even thinking about baby three… Watch. This. First.

In sum: We are crazy. But happy. Usually.

Life with three kids is crazy, messy and busy, but it’s also beautiful, amazing, and (usually) really happy too.  Watching our boys dote on and care for their little sister makes our heart explode on the daily. (When they’re not beating each other it turns out they can be kind of sweet?!?) The dynamic of three kids is really special (and mostly fun) already and we can’t wait to see it grow.

Your hands will always be full, but so will your heart.

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fullsizeoutput_658Christiana is a Navy wife and mother of 3, attorney and former realtor, world traveler, home renovator and decorator, yogi, fitness enthusiast, and recipe and fine wine explorer.

 

Dr. Annie Answers: Little Personalities

This post is both confession and discussion. It’s about learning to be a mommy and learning who my child is. It’s embarrassing and important.

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Baby Bump, Photo Cred: Laura Renee Baxter Photography

When I was pregnant with baby #1, Hubby Pants and I decided we weren’t going to find out the gender of the baby before birth. In my household growing up, gender identity was something that individuals developed through their childhood and adolescence. Body parts present at birth often correlated with that identity, but sometimes did not. I felt strongly that I wanted to provide equal opportunity for our child to declare their own identity and not have it foisted upon them.

I decided early on that I loved lipstick, ruffles and sequins and could do cartwheels in high heels by age 7… but I also loved playing in the barn, catching snakes and playing sports. It was a little of everything.

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Case in point: Hangin with my big bros at Grandpa’s Eagle Lake house, best snake catching place, wearing a pink dress.

Kids should be able to be whoever they want to be.

The moment came for that baby to come into the world. H.P. had the honor of announcing the body parts, “It’s a girl!”. Her name came to me instantly the moment I looked at her tiny, sweet face. We dressed her in mostly gender neutral clothes (gifted clothes were mostly gender-specific and we had to use what we had), avoided pink or frilly baby gear and sticking bows on her head. Our baby toys were all mechanical – trucks, blocks, etc… No baby dolls. No dress up.

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Rosalyn Elizabeth

Fast forward to 15 months old. Little Rosie had a play date for the first time with an older girl who had a baby doll and play stroller. The look on her face when she beheld this item was like Christmas-Candy-Store-Seeing-a-Unicorn all rolled into one. She was obsessed.

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Fully self-styled

From there, her love of all things “girly” just exploded. This girl wanted all things pink, sparkly, frilly, and fancy. H.P. and I tried to encourage more balanced choices, “Pants are nice too!”, “OOh! Fun cars!”, “Let’s play in the mud!”. Left to her own devices, though, she would be in a floor-length sparkly gown, high heels, putting on make up and prancing around.

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It hit me at one point that my feelings about this were not about ‘accepting who she expressed herself to be’, but of embarrassment that she was a cliche of girlishness. I was the open-minded mom who was supposed to let her be who she wanted to be, but I found myself resisting in the same ways parents of a boy who wanted to wear dresses might. I blamed myself for setting an example of dressing up for dates with her daddy, wearing make up most days and ‘giving in’ to her desire to wear only fancy dresses and put on my lipstick.

I finally realized I had to let go of allllll my ideas about her gender identity and let her actually be herself.

The part that I struggle with the most is how to let her be her fancy self while still emphasizing that those outer trappings of appearance do not in any indicate a person’s value. She already has ideas about who is ‘pretty’ and who is not. Society actively teaches this. There are not any un-gorgeous Disney heroines. Even Moana is conventionally beautiful.

We talk constantly about how anyone can have long hair, wear make up or dress in fancy dresses regardless of whether they want to be called a boy or a girl. We are trying to balance the scales a little bit, but the truth is, we are a cis-gendered couple with mostly stereotypical peer families that we spend time with. Examples of this diversity are harder to come by in our life right now.

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Lipstick adventures

I have had to search far and wide for books like Your Body Is Awesome and Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls with more positive and meaningful messages. We constantly reinforce that what’s on the outside doesn’t indicate real value that’s on the inside. I see a sea change coming in this regard compared to when we were children, but right now it’s still just a glimmer on the horizon. We also have been given the Little Mommy and Barbie Golden Books which are awful and she found where I hid them and wants them read (so I change all the words to a more empowering narrative because she can’t read yet… I’ll need a new strategy eventually).

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I’m sharing this because other parents out there might be struggling with whatever identity their child is expressing and I want them to know they are not alone. We have a never ending debate about Nature vs Nurture going on in our society. I don’t think we’ll ever have an answer. I think we need to respect our children’s nature – it is present and it is strong and it is undeniable. I think we need to nurture the better thoughts and behaviors that they express to the world. It’s a balance. It’s a challenge. It’s f-ing hard sometimes.

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Take the moments you can to just revel in the incredible, unique, fantastic human(s) you have brought into this world.

 

 

 

 

The universe decided to go easier on me for baby #2. Mimi is a fluid mix of having fun with a little girliness but also loving to build and play in the dirt. She, if anything, was raised with a lot more feminine clothes and toys around just by the nature of hand-me-downs. This helped me let go of some of the self-blame. They are who they are. We can help guide them but we also have to let them be themselves.

My hope is that they know they can dress like a princess and still be strong, be capable, be the boss of the world. Just like mom 😉 In what ways are your kids how you expected or not? Anyone else have a hard time with this? Would love your comments!

18_SMG_Ray_Anne_MD_FamilyMed-5654_print Dr. Annie is a married mom of 2 and family doctor in the Sacramento area.

Dr. Annie Answers: A Parent’s Intuition

Many of the things that people have said they appreciate about me as a doctor are the direct result of advice from one of my best mentors. One thing – trusting a parent’s intuition – has literally saved the lives of multiple patients of mine, and now hopefully, also that of my nephew. He’s in the womb below, while I was also preggers with baby #2.

As a resident, I remember feeling so lost in the beginning about offering advice on things like breastfeeding or colicky babies or a kid with a weird rash. I had been around lots of kids, sure, but I had never been pregnant, had never tried to breastfed a baby, or to get a fussy toddler to take medicine.

I, for sure, gave some asinine advice in those early days and more than once had patients laugh in my face (sorry pregnant patient who I tried to tell to work on her core strength for third trimester back pain!!). What Dr. Pippitt told me was, “Of course you don’t know their kid better than they do, but you do know medicine better than most of them.” Her advice now seems so obvious – let parents be the experts on their own kids. This applies to people being the expert on their own bodies also, but I’ve found we misinterpret ourselves more than parents do their kids…. so paying attention to what parents think is even more important IMHO.

Since then, I, of course, have become a mom twice over. I know tons more practical advice and can be quite a bit more helpful in treatment strategies. But! I still know that every parent is the expert on their own kid. My bottom line advice for when to have something checked out, followed up on, checked out again is always “if you, as the parent, are still worried or feel something’s not right”.

The validity of this was recently driven home in a tragic way. My sister, back in March, called me on FaceTime to show me a lump on her 3 year old kid’s neck. I took one look at it and thought, “that’s not normal”. My sister and her wife agreed and took him in to their pediatrician right away. The doc told them it was nothing to worry about. But… they were still worried when it didn’t go away. They saw ENT who also said it was nothing. But… they were still worried. Finally at 2 month follow up, it was bigger, not smaller. A few weeks later an MRI and biopsy had confirmed it was Hodgkin Lymphoma, an extremely rare, but very treatable diagnosis in someone his age.

Their intuition was right on, and had they not followed up despite being told it was nothing, it could have been caught at a later and more dangerous stage.

So, the next time you find yourself with that, “something’s not right” feeling, go ahead and get checked. This goes for your own body too, of course. Make sure the provider you see is able to make you feel confident that your fear can be ruled out before you go. This doesn’t mean they will do every test imaginable every time – sometimes we can take a look at something and tell you with high level of certainty, “you don’t need to worry”. We did go to school for a long time to learn that medical side of things, after all. But, if your care provider doesn’t listen to or respect your knowledge about your own kid or your own body, find a new one.

Dr. Annie is a married mother of 2, aunt of dozens of other amazing kids and family doctor in the Sacramento Area.

Ps. If you want to support my sister & her family, you can find them on Caringbridge.com under starlinglynnalesker

Sing Peace: The Power of Positive Intention

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Our scene opens to an Amphitheater. Its Grandparents Day and its my son’s first year at this Montessori School. I am excited to show my Father in Law and his wife how AMAZING this school is. It’s reputable accreditations, top notch facilities, child led education model, etc. Then the kids come out. They get in their positions for a song. Then the music starts…

Light a candle for peace

Light a candle for love

Light a candle that shines all the way ’round the world

Light a candle for me, light a candle for you

That our dream of peace, will one day come true

Sing peace around the world.

Goosebumps. Tears.

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I am utterly inspired by this song that my son’s Montessori Primary class is singing. Mesmerized by the message, I soon forget about all the impressive outward characteristics that the school offered. They, in front of my eyes, are showing me that they are teaching the kids about world peace.

What a notion! Light a candle for peace? Is it really that simple? Can I really believe that me lighting a candle for peace for all, will be enough to actualize that peace?

Yes, the power of positive intention is exactly that. Amazing, untapped, raw, power. 

“This morning, in this room, these children are using their power to change the world.”

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Many folks ask me whether or not I’ve heard the latest on local, national, or world news.  The many tragedies that happen daily, the “government’s latest screw up” and “this party is responsible for the demise of all humankind”. For those who absorb and feel energy,  frequently called Empaths, these types of things go beyond effecting just their thoughts. We feel this sort of devastation viscerally, which is why it can be hard for us to stay “up-to-date” with current events. It physically and emotionally hurts….quite literally.

There is a feeling of hopelessness that comes with constantly being bombarded with the negative things that go on in the world. It is not that we wish to remain ignorant, it is that the physical and emotional pain of feeling it becomes too much, and we must protect ourselves from it in order to live our best life.

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I know, kid. I feel it too.

Within the last ten years, I have developed a ritual that helps me feel the power of proactivity within what feels like a muddy bog of the energy of today’s world. When I feel taken by the overwhelming feeling of the worlds tragedy, I stop and light a candle. This grounding technique helps me to send up a prayer of protection for myself and the world. I take one moment to speak aloud my intention for that day. “I intend to live today happily and in gratitude” or “I intend to offer a feeling of peace to all whom I encounter.” Walking in that truth, I believe, has the power to effect maybe even ONE person. If I can effect one person, then the ripple effect can begin.

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I feel as though it is safe to say that most of us have heard of the Power of Intention. Ever heard of the book, The Secret? Oprah has!!!!

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Whaddup Oprah’s Book Club List?

The book explains that in the theory of Quantum Physics, everything has an energy; including thoughts. If we think about all that we have to be grateful for, we tend to open our hearts and minds to attract MORE of the same. This goes both ways. Both negative thoughts AND positive thoughts attract one another. Relying on this can have profound changes on one’s life. Simply speak your intention until it ultimately becomes your reality. In the book, that can mean financially, spiritually, romantically, or anything you else can imagine. We are, in essence, limitless.

After all, we’ve heard this same notion since we were littles ourselves.

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. When you wish upon a star your dreams come true.” 

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Nice one, Jimminy. Thanks.

And why the heck shouldn’t they? If we are all individually powerful enough to make this happen,

imagine the potential energy of the collective?

The mountains of positivity that things like The World Kindness Movement can move.

An example lies in yesterday’s stresses I faced.  For me, they were almost too overwhelming for me to function. Money, parenting, and hormones (TMI? ah, lighten up;))got the best of me. So today, I woke up with the intention that I would feel nothing but butterflies, unicorns, and rainbows. (photo below) I even dressed the part as a reminder. Needless to say, I had an amazing day today in that I could see the good, the fun, and especially the hope in all the things that had stressed me the day before. Had I not intended to live differently today, I would have most likely felt the same stresses take me over. Silver linings are just that. Shiny lines in the proverbial sand that let us choose whether to stay on the side the negative, or to choose to see the positive.

There are ways you can get yourself involved bringing kindness to the world. The Random Acts of Kindness Organization has plenty of ideas, lesson plans, and even motivational quotes to help you on your way. If you’d like to keep it simple, then just smile at a stranger every now and again. It is said to be hella contagious:)

Or, be like this kid,  Maurice Adams, Jr..

We can all learn from Maurice. Well done, good sir.

“The Days Of Our Lives” The Power of Emotional Freedom

I spent time today talking with a dear friend, a sister in spirit if you will, who recently broke her ankle. After bringing her breakfast, which was subsequently eaten by both of our kiddos, we got to talking about praying and how we need to do more of it to attract the things we want. We spoke about being frustrated with jobs, social relationships, the diseases and illnesses that are just unfair, etc., and something she said hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m paraphrasing here, but she said to me,

“Shouldn’t we assume that people have positive intent?”

It occurred to me in that instant.  In ALL of the changes that I have been making mentally and physically, in all of the relationships that have ebbed and flowed over the past couple of years that have caused I thought have caused me pain, have been because I forgot to remember that most people are inherently good.jim-carrey-duh-meme.jpg

I was assuming, based on words or behaviors of those around me, that I was not worthy of being nurtured as a friend. I basically lost my faith in my ability to even be a good friend, and therefore, lost my faith in the excitement of new people.

This led me to a philosophy my mother and I have talked about for years, that I manage over and over again to forget.

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The Four Agreements is a book written by Miguel Ruiz that takes folks on their journey towards true personal freedom. It explores

“..self-limiting beliefs that rob us of joy and create needless suffering”

One of the keys to personal love is to follow these four simple rules in all moments of your life. It will help avoid at least some of the “triggers” that inspire the downward spiral of thoughts and emotional suffering.

Be Impeccable With Your Word

For lack of a better explanation, we must speak with integrity. This means avoiding gossip, or negative self talk. It also involves building others up, which will in turn provide you with the language and tools to build yourself in the same manner.

DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY

DING DING DING. If I had a freaking magic button that could help me grip onto this notion, there is no limit to the price I would pay for it. This is where in the above conversation, I realized that I had totally failed. Not only had I chosen to take almost EVERYTHING personally from some people, I have also been taking things my children have said/done personally as well. And digging further, taking my SELF talk as truth. (What a mess) My personal key to emotional freedom is making THIS agreement priority in the practice.

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Don’t Make Assumptions

If you do not understand something or someone, be it their behavior, words, actions, heart, mind, anything, ASK THEM.  To avoid miscommunications and misunderstandings that don’t serve us, it is imperative that we feel brave enough to communicate in the first place. In order to not be the victim of suffering in your own mind, open your words and your heart to rid it of sadness and drama. After all, imagination is usually worse than the reality.

Always Do Your Best

My take on this agreement is that if we go forth in our day to do the best we can with all things, than any judgements coming from others or yourself are utterly unnecessary. This will vary from day to day of course, but we must remind ourselves that we are only playing with the hand we are dealt, and all we can do is face it one day at a time the best we can. Be proud of yourself, and know that we are all walking our paths.

It was in the realization that I had spent so much time not speaking with integrity, taking everything personally, not communicating effectively that allows me to understand my perceptions, that I honestly was not living my best life.

Dovetailing on Annie’s summer reading list from yesterday, The Four Agreements is my first choice read to finding a path that supports emotional freedom.  Having something everyday to remind me of these four agreements can help me, you, anyone, live a life constructed around that liberation.

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Challenge yourself everyday with honoring these four. Set reminders, put up post its or wall art, wear empowering jewelry. Hell, get a tattoo if you want! Let’s choose to live a life lifted by empowerment of self and others.

Will you join me?

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