Table for two

I am having a day with my girl.  I love her--whole heart kind of love.  When I draw her into my arms I can smell that wild earthy scent that belongs only her and feel a warmth that runs through me like hot coco on a cold autumn morning.  Those moments melt me. 

Holding onto those moments must be what gets me through the power struggles, temper tantrums, and times of defeat.  My petite fleur is a strong willed, intense, singled minded, determined, passionate, free spirited being.  Creative.  Dramatic.  Talented.  She makes me question my parenting ability, worry about my blood pressure, and tests my patients daily.  There are days that I have to take deep breaths, a lot, in order to prepare myself for anything she throws my way. 

She is a lot like me.  My brother reminds me of this often, with laughter.  She is.  A lot.  Like me.  Today, we are feeding each others souls and feeding them well.  As the Indigo Girls station on Pandora sings to our spirts the glitter glue flows freely and her mood is light and airy.  We are having the best day ever.  I entered this day with the only expectation of being with her and letting her do.  I forget that her soul needs to be feed well, too.  The busy pace is not good for either of us.  Messy stickiness is our drug.  Being allowed to create is what fits us best.  Someday, we will not struggle against each other, but balance and complement.  This day together is bring us closer.

A need to write

When I was younger I kept a diary.  It wasn't an everyday thing and most of my entries were about so and so and this and that and so on and so forth.  When I have gone back and looked through my written memories, I noticed that my longest ones were when I needed to express my feelings (normally frustration).  At some point, I gave up the written record of my personal thoughts and reflections.  I'm not sure why--life gets in the way sort of thing, I imagine. 

I love writing, always have.  I remember sitting on the steps of my parents house with notebook and pencil in hand and trying to come up with wonderful stories--asking my parents how to spell this word and trying to find a different word for another word (how wonderful a computer truly is).  I have stacks of those notebooks that I to this day can not part with (I really should try to type up those stories--for laughter's sake if nothing else.) 

Even though I am terrible at spelling and make up the rules and words and all kinds of things that would make all the Mrs. & Mr.'s of my education cringe, I write on.  In my writing mind, I forget it all and just let the words rush (or trickle) from my brain to finger tips.  Sometimes I am please with the quick result, other times I have to work and fuss and tweak before I am seeing perfection.  Perfection.  That is the things that always seems to stand in my way.  I envy people who can just do something and be satisfied with their first result.  Me, I have to work and work and work until the words don't always match the story that I see.  Sometime I should just "publish" my raw materials and throw perfection to the wind--my stomach is balling up in knots a little just saying that, that must mean I need to push myself to try--I'll at least spell check before hitting the big orange publish button.  (where did all that come from)

The beauty of writing from my mind is I get it out.  I have been feeling pent up lately--and maybe it's because I carry all these thoughts around and never getting them out.  So why not share them here with others so that my thoughts are just not mine alone (don't worry I wont punish you with all my thoughts)  Because I need to write and blogging can be food for my soul.

BTW--this is mostly a raw writing.  Mostly.

Feeding my Soul

Squash, black beans, onions and bell peppers--this is soul feeding food for me

                           
I'm a care giver, by profession, as mother and wife, as a friend and every person in between.  Somewhere in the shuffle of feeding, lending a helping hand, transporting, and loving, I forget to do one very important thing:  Take care of me.  I don't make time to do things that feed my body, mind & soul.

 I'm not sure if I do this because there just never seems to be enough (time, energy, care) after giving to other or if it's because I'm better at giving than receiving?  It could have something to do with the fact that I feel selfish putting my needs before the needs of other, no matter how many times my husband tells me "If you don't take care you, who will take care of us?"  I just feel guilty when I make myself the priority.  I need to get over that.  Now!

So now I need to figure out what I need in order to feed myself well.  I'm not just talking food here.  In order to be alive, awake, alert & enthusiastic what elements are required?  What is the magic potion that will put a spring back into my step, the shine in my hair and song to my laughter?.  How will I create more hours in my already busy day? 

It is time to ask the hard questions,  what brings me joy?  what do I love?  what do I need? Do I find joy in the smiles of those I love or is it found when I feel their arms wrapped around me.  Is it feeling nature kiss my cheeks as I move my body to the beat of my heartsong or is it having dirt covered toes that I love?  Do I need to be challenging myself and eating foods that speak to me in a sound that only I can hear when I'm really in tune with my true self? 

The hardest part is providing myself these joy makers, passion filled need.  Will I be more present to notice and feel the love that brings me joy.  Will I make the time to spend with nature and bury my toes in deep so I can hear my heartsong?  What will I do to challenge myself?  What food speak to me in a healthful way?  Who is up for this challenge?  Me?.