Exquisitely You

She wants to be just like her favorite celebrity.

She prances in front of the mirror, mimics facial expressions, pouts lips, struts, copies mannerism, makeup, tone, clothing style, way of speaking.

He wants to be just like his football idol.

He waddles his still small frame to mimic a quarterback. He frowns and he grunts. He copies mannerism, tone, clothing, way of speaking.

They want to be just like those who hold power.

They swagger. They pose. They pretend to be tough, put on apathetic faces. They copy mannerism, tone, clothing, way of speaking.

She forgets. He doesn’t know. Maybe they weren’t told.

Of the exquisite being they each are. Already.

Each unique.

Poised to be who they were meant to be.

One of a kind. On this earth. In this time.

Let us tell them, tell ourselves:

“Watch others for what is true, for what is right, what is kind,

Learn what you can,

But remember

You are.

You can be.

No one else can

Be

Exquisitely you.”

outside the box

You do you!

 

For The Daily Post

What we see; why we don’t

now where...

Photo Credit: A.M.

“How come they didn’t see it happening?”

“How could they let this happen?”

“How is it possible that it took place and no one knew?”

“How can they say they didn’t see?”

“Can people really be this blind?”

“Don’t they care?”

“Don’t they see?”

 

Maybe they didn’t. The improbable is possible. People can be that blind. Even when they care, they may not see.

It is easy to see what one wants, what’s congruent, what matches assumptions or views or held beliefs. It is easy to recognize what one had learned already, to follow perceptions already accepted, ways familiar … easier to understand words that resonate with what does not burden with new challenges or calls for reassessment or brings up shame.

Shame. People don’t like to see what brings up shame.

The very whiff of it can bring on denial. Projection. Deflection. Blame of others. Avoidance. Cold shoulder. Dismissal. Refusal. Minimization of the pain of others to avoid feeling one has done wrong, seen wrong, is wrong.

Shame tugs along with hate and violence, in words or action or both. Inflicting pain on others might get justified or explained away … A way to keep downtrodden what one thinks should stay unnoticed, un-make-wave-able, quiet, under rugs, buried. Unseen.

It takes time, heart, and bravery to crack and drain shame.

It is easier to blame. To point fingers. To make “an other” to scapegoat or distance from. To claim misfortune due to one’s abilities, affiliation, religion, political leanings, nationality, age, gender, race, vocation, location, possessions or lack thereof.

To yell “false claims”, “exaggeration”, “attention seeking” or the newest term: “fake news.”

Shaming is a weapon of pseudo self-preservation for those who need to ensure the pain of another remains unseen and one’s own comfort can stand unprovoked.

Shame silences:

Unspoken words of wounded children

Pleas of disrespected women

The worlds of the oppressed, belittled, turned against them.

The desperate, the lost … unanswered. Unaccepted. Unacceptable.

Unseen.

 

It does not need to so remain.

To face what was already there but eyes were closed to, is the first step to unmaking shame. To healing pain.

May we find ways to see. May we take heart to act. May we become for others what we need or needed them to see in us, to do for us, to hold with gentleness.

May the unseen become the visible.

May shame be drained.

each other

 

For The Daily Post

“I can, but I can!”

“I can, but I can!”

His small face ablaze

Part conviction, part plan.

He can go to the park on his own (in the rain, in the dark).

He can tie his laces (with shoes on wrong feet and socks turned around …).

He can eat three big slices of pizza (before finishing one).

He can drive the car (“the real one, with the key!”).

He can take a bath on his own (“Mommy help me get in …”).

He can dress himself (two legs in one pant, head wedged in a sleeve).

He can use a phone (especially “Delete” …).

And he certainly can, he is sure

Stay awake

All night long.

He’s not sleepy.

He won’t even be tired

Tomorrow.

Or ever.

Till he is “really big.”

He can stay up.

And not sleep.

Even as eyes flutter closed … and he yawns and he yawns and he ….

makingmotherhoodmatter-com

 

For The Daily Prompt

Can Someday be Today?

dressup

“Can we go to the candy store?”

“Not today. Maybe another day.”

“Can we go to the park?”

“Later, Sweetie. It is raining now.”

Fidget, fidget, scan the room.

“Can I have a phone?”

“Maybe one day.”

“Can we go to Disney Land?”

“Maybe someday.”

Sigh.

Another one.

“Can someday be today?”

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Daily Prompt: Someday

Stuck on

He won’t let her have a quiet cup of coffee.

He won’t let her sleep.

He needs her when she bathes

Or pees.

He whines during any of her conversations

Cares little for her schedule

Her meetings

Her needs.

He requires constant attention

Won’t be left alone

Must come along.

That phone.

 

phone-getty-images

 

 

For The Daily Post

 

 

Happy Everything

There are a few things so precious as knowing one is seen, heard, known, accepted, cherished.

Loved.

As is.

Just because.

And no matter what or when or how or what else is most certainly going on that may well take front seat and burner.

Few things are as real to the core of one’s heart and to the moon and back again.

When I forget, in the bustle of the day-to-day annoyances and to-do lists and in the boggy mess of worry and all manner of variegated helplessness … I remember.

This.

A card from a dear friend who is no longer here in physical form, and who even as she struggled to find light at the end of the already quite dark tunnel of the illness that would soon after claim her life, still held the thought and found the energy to send me this.

Just because.

From India.

A transcript of caring.

happy-everything-jpg

via Discover Challenge: Transcript

Shine

fall back clock

From Etsy

She looked at me with sparkles in her eyes: “My Granny’s coming tomorrow!”

I smiled.

“We going to have so much fun!” Her eyes shone. “Granny is my favorite grandma ever forever!”

“You’re excited she’s coming,” I stated.

The child gave me the “that’s-the-understatement-of-the-year-look.”

The mom and I exchanged glances and laughed.

“Can you imagine her as a teenager?” the mom noted, chuckled. “She’s practicing the eye-roll already …”

The little girl transferred “the look” to her mom, but only half-heartedly. They were both of them quite giddy with the prospect of the visit. The grandma lives out of the country but the bond is evident. I often hear tales of simultaneous cookie-baking on both sides of the Atlantic, bedtime stories on FaceTime, and daily checking-ins. Now Granny will manifest in real life, and Mom’s eyes–an only child herself–were just as shiny as her daughter’s.

“She going to stay in my room,” the four-year-old danced on her feet, shoes alight with strobes and glitter. “I have the best comfy bed for her …” she lowered her voice in exaggerated gossip-conspiration, “because she old … but …” she glanced at her mother, maybe aware of the weight of possibility or maybe remembering the source of the added information, maybe both, “…she not dying yet. She just a little bit very old.”

 

For The Daily Post: Shine

 

 

Infinite sweetness

elephant attachment

There’s so much harshness and rigidity, so many difficult realities, hardened views, unyielding opinions, and limited acceptance all around, that it can be easy to forget the infinite sweetness that exists all around us.

The infinite sweetness

In a baby’s smile.

In a youngling’s antics.

In the green of an unfurling leaf.

In a stranger’s compassion.

In a perfect strawberry.

In a sip of tea on snowy days.

In the sigh of warm bath water.

In the life that sheds and lives and sheds and lives in all around us.

In the repeating revolution of this planet, hurtling as it is through space in speeds we cannot comprehend and yet are an integral part of.

The infinite sweetness of what can be remembered with nostalgia and what is hoped for and may well become — or may just, possibly, find pathways.

To infinity.

SpaDec2013no1

Photo Credit A.A.