Books and stories: a recipe for laughter and growth

From Pintrest

From Pintrest

Oh so true … that a child who reads will be an adult who thinks. Reading opens doors, windows, paths, and secret passages to all manner of worlds and imaginations, language and vocabulary, expression and understanding.

Reading matters.

A reading child is also preceded by a child who is being read to and is spoken to and with, and who experiences being part of conversations and experiences, narrative and the day to day stories of life lived and happenings that happen …

Because:

A child who is read to will be a child who listens, imagines, thinks, wonders, comprehends and symbolizes… A child more likely to read and enjoy reading …

A child who is talked to, who participates in conversation and discussion, is a child who knows to ask questions and answer queries, offer opinion and listen to that of others, be curious about others’ experience and tolerant of differences, ideas, and views… A child more likely to read and enjoy variety in what they read …

A child who is listened to–and is shown how to reciprocate and take one’s turn in listening–is a child who can relate and remember, reminisce and realize, teach and learn, listen, comprehend and think… A child more likely to read and find books a place for expanding understanding and relating …

So …

Did you open a book today? Did you tell a story? Make a story together? The story of going to the store, of cleaning up the room together, of salad making and laundry folding, of visiting the park and counting dogs with spots and kids in strollers, of the rainbow of colors in the produce aisle and the funny thing that silly dances do to your feet and heart and smile …

Go tell some stories. We’re never too old or too young!

Trauma’s Memory Problems : A good article

child trauma

Trauma all too often brings up the detective in people, prods them to question, pin point, dissect accounts, weigh relative credibility. It is an odd thing, given the reality that trauma–by its very essence of overwhelm and shutting down of language centers, processing, and memory integration–affects how one may be able to remember, recount, and narrate it. Trauma is difficult to articulate and often too difficult to comprehend, even to know. And yet, it is often demanded to be phrased in exact details that go beyond every-day memory. As if trauma memory should be, somehow, more stellar, subject to higher standard, to bigger scrutiny.

Granted, there may be a motive in it: people would rather believe trauma is less frequent and not as severe. If there are holes in a story, maybe it is ‘proof’ that it did not take place, or not as badly, or not deliberately … At the same time, there is an inherent lack of understanding about how memory and overwhelm conflict and contradict each other. In some ways, a misremembered, disjointed, incoherent event fraught with numbness and confusion may well BE one of a trauma … rather than be proof of something not happening …

Trauma is a problematic thing for memory.

People remember trauma differently. Some remember constantly, vividly, intrusively. Some remember oddly. Some remember snippets, or sensations, or disjointed unease that seems disconnected from anything that seems to make sense. Some remember sometimes. Some remember not at all.

Children, especially, may find not remembering safer than to try and manage the overwhelming reality of what to let reality in may mean. They may have to keep things in the ‘not knowing’ folder to go on and push away reminders that make no sense, they recant, reverse, deny, ignore.

In the article below, the author explores memory and trauma, denial and dismissal, inaccuracies and interpretations, shame and judgment, burden and prejudice, reality and myth.

It is a worthy read for anyone who has been touched by or knows someone who has been touched by trauma (that should include the lot of us, really …). It is an even worthier read if one keeps in mind how it would be all the more difficult for children to conceptualize and remember trauma cohesively, when they have less tools with which to manage what they had endured, and are more vulnerable to misconceptions about what it says to them, about them, about those who hurt them, about the world, about who they may be or have become.

​I Was Sexually Assaulted As A Child. Here’s Why I Didn’t Remember For Years.

http://thinkprogress.org/health/2014/12/23/3606576/memory-and-sexual-trauma/

Winter Brr…

If the winter weather’s getting you shivery around the edges

and strikes a bit of waddle in your walk,

think cute …

penguin chick

If the chill gives you the blues,

puff it out

with color and

with attitude …

bluebird

If the cold brings out the grump,

Forget the chill,

go at it

with a friend …

red pandas in snow

The chill … will end …

 

Gateways

inisheer

Photo by: anselmona

On the almost eve of a new year, may your path hold clear as you pass into the nascent potential of what is almost born to be. For it can be, in truth, all that there can be.

Not all newness smells of radical divergence. In every sense, all paths we take form in the footsteps of those we already walked. It is where we head, how we carry our present time and what we see as possible, that breathes new life into the future. Farmers toiled for centuries, building fences to clear fertile ground and to protect the livestock with the use of the very rocks that made obstacles for plows. Stones remained stones even as they have become all that and then some.

We, too, are what we always were … and then some. We are who we know to be and what we learned to do about it, how we join the paths of others, how we forge our own to clear ground for new growth (hopefully in compassionate persistence). We are how we build with what is there. How we tend to obstacles and plow potential. What we form within us and around us. How we become what we know.

May the path hold clear in sun and mist, in fog and rainbow. May it be.

§§§

Gateways:

Every gate you pass holds pathways

Of times walked through

Stone by stone.

Every passage holding steady

Leaning onto

All that’s gone.

Every walkthrough

Every newness

Wraps around the times you know.

All the pebbles

Rocks

Big Boulders

That held back

Allowed

Remembered

All that needed

Fought

To grow.

garden gate

Light onto Light

In this time of longest darkness

May you be lit from within.

In the longest night and coldest

May your heart warm full with gleam.

May the light of endless lanterns

Candles

Oil lamps

Many flickers

Single glow

Fill your world with bright and shimmer

As the days begin to grow

 

hanukkah

travelthisworld.tumblr.com

lights

light1

ofpeacocksandpaisleys.tumblr.com

solstice blessing

 

 

A Far Away Home

 

far away home

imgur.com

 

 

May there be a home for you,

At the end of every journey.

May there be a home for you,

No matter how far you’ve gone.

May there be a home for you,

At the pause of every breath.

May there be a home for you,

In the remotest place.

May there be a light left on for you,

To help you walk through dark.

May there be a warm hearth greeting you,

And love to bloom all sparks.

Giving Thanks

gratitude1

For all the things that merit gratitude,

Let there be many thanks.

For all the wonders that fill hearts

And gladden souls,

Let there be thanks.

For the bounty of all blessings:

For the smiles,

The newborn children,

The rediscovery of

Newfound hopes

And boundless potential

For growth,

Let there be thanks.

*

For it is not joy that

Makes us grateful,

But the thanks

that bring us

Joy.

 happy thanksgiving

A Sentry Till Spring

winter is closing in soon by Gunnar Gestur on Flickr

winter is closing in soon by Gunnar Gestur on Flickr

Find a moment of magic

where the air

meets the sky;

where the light

holds back darkness

and the sun

twirls a ribbon

to the frost

swimming by.

Find a moment of magic;

breathe a lungful

of peace.

Brace your heart

with warm knowing:

There will be light on

all winter

standing sentry

till spring.

Paths of Gold

Found on listofpictures.blogspot.com

path-in-autumn-reghin-romania Found on listofpictures.blogspot.com

There is gold

in the air

ruby wealth

underfoot.

There are showers

of ocher,

breathing fairies

and wonder,

sprinkling mist

on cool weather,

building paths of

true splendor.

There is magic

to tread through,

parting leaves

end of season,

mixed with dazzling hues

of the richness of nature

spilling forth

onto you.