I get you...Ode to Dad

Dear Dad,

I know sometimes being in your skin must feel difficult. The path you have chosen has been rough, sad and sometimes overwhelming. You stand so tall and so valiantly in my eyes I don't think I have ever expressed how I truly felt growing up in your shadow.

I want to say first off...I get you!

At a tender age of eight, you were a stranger. Your career took you away from my daily routine. I relished in the time I got to sit in your lap or to ride along with you on an errand. I remember walking beside you, running to keep up with your stride. Your six foot seven in frame walked with determination and purpose. For every one step of yours I had to take three to stay by your side. I thought you walked too fast. That I was just not going to be able to catch up. I remember thinking "My dad is the tallest man in the world!". You were, in my world. I was proud to be able to say that to my school mates.

I remember thinking you were less than cool in public at fourteen. I used to shudder at the idea of having to sit next to you. I didn't realize you wanted to be with me. I thought you were punishing me. I miss being able to sit next to you now. As a mom I now get it because my own teenager doesn't want to sit next to me. I get you.

I thought the Army didn't teach you to sing very well and later it occurred to me that you sang differently because your song was one of work. It was not one made for a choir in church but a choir of a warrior clinging to their faith. I always thought that your heartfelt National Anthem in church on Sunday near the forth of July was your best performance ever! I get you.

I know now the worry you and Mom silently endured over my escapades and choices. I see that you had seen the world at it's rawest, truest, grittiest form when you worried about me and my life. I get you.

I know how much I dreaded summers as a teen when I couldn't escape to a summer job. That meant I had to work with you, doing tasks like hanging sheet rock, shingling the roof, volunteering in the community, traveling with you on a campaign trail, mowing the lawn and pulling up bushes to make our home more livable. Now I am so grateful for the knowledge of how to replace a fixture, shingle, change the oil, greet a stranger, put on a smiling face and offer my hand in community service. Back then I thought those things were so trivial, not going to amount to much like the Algebra in school I would never use. Boy was I wrong. Those things took my life and shaped me in ways I can not count.

For a man who was often working, gone to foreign countries during my early years, you have left a love of my country, a respect for my freedom and a desire to believe in the betterment of mankind as a whole. I know as an adult now the journey you trod, the roles and responsibilities you bore and I get you.

Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for instilling in me the values of your heart. Thank you for showing me I was loved in the best way you could. Thank you for being a veteran. Thank you for the value that lifestyle gave me and shaped me. Your work in me continues daily, each time I meet someone, raise my children and be who I need to be.

I am proud of you in so many ways. I have a deeper love and deeper respect for you now than ever before. I am again humbled to walk in your path. For every one step you take the world demands three steps from me yet again because of it's complexities. Your step training has prepared me well. Like an athlete to be the parent of endurance, value, integrity and love. I know now what I didn't know then. Thank you for being my Dad and the Veteran of my life!

I get you! Thank you Vet! Thank you Dad!

Leap of Faith

It is Monday. I haven't written and feel the impact of my neglect. I have longed to write but have not. I have felt my heart toss and turn and writhe in confusion and fear. A new week and looking back I have been fighting the good fight. The battle over apathy, fear and stagnation. It is a new moon and one of great promise for me, my life and my loved ones. I know that I have to see the next step as a human to know where I will go, what will happen and how things will end up. It is as if the basement light is broken and I need to go down into the dark to fix it. The need of knowing that one step is still there as it has always been.

So here we go. Taking the leap of faith. Knowing I am just one step away from the dreams of my heart and the design of my life and soul.

I remember my Mom telling me to "Fish or cut bait", "Shit or get off the pot", "Move it or lose it". She was raised by parents who were farmers and the wisdom of idioms were readily shared from their generation to ours and now on to my own children. It was always so powerful of a feeling to understand my Mom's idioms and wisdom. When I got it I felt like a genius. I can hear her telling me that it will be okay, better than okay, if I would just get up, "pull myself up by my bootstraps" and get moving. At this age, I cherish this insight and the resonating voice of my mother in my head at times like this. I see my Mom's hand when I touch my children and serve them. I hear my Mom's words come out of my mouth. I can feel her hug when I am fearful. How powerful, how personal, how intimate.

So here goes, the leap of faith. Taking a deep breath and knowing the water might be cold, the fall might be scary, I might be a bit disoriented when I land but, it all will work out. I am grateful for this knowledge. I am sure there will be a story to tell someday about the adventure. Something I can embellish for my grand kids and to relish for my own accomplishments.

I am closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Ready, set, go! I am leaping into my choices and into my hearts dream. There is much I am feeling.

Thanks Mom! I hope my children can see the faith and feel the legacy and know the power that they hold. I am grateful for the opportunity to create, live and leap! Yeee Haaaw!

Ready for brewing...

This morning is a good morning for tea, not just coffee, but tea. Something to slow brew. I know there is much running through my mind this morning and I just need time to make it come to a place of understanding that will give me clarity and vision.

It is a bit chilly and rainy. A cloudy day. I wanted to know what was going to happen today. I had such vivid dreams of people I have never met. Some of them comprehensible and others I just couldn't put my finger on them. Who were they? What would they bring to my life?

I think there is so much richness in my life. I often fail miserably at seeing it with clarity. I am blessed with good friends, people who love me and care about my well being. I am alive, working, contributing and growing. I can give and give so willingly without worry. I have a past that has fueled many emotions, some good, some bad. Some have been abandoned in my history book. Some I will relive and relish for times of reflection. I am grateful for my education and my family. I appreciate the obstacles, the failures, the lack of knowledge or insight at times in my life when I needed it. That lack has given me a true adventure and honed me to be who I am today.

So would I do it all over again in the same way changing nothing? Yes, whole heartily yes. Scrapes, tears and falls! Yes I would, I would embrace it all.

I long for the peace that will give me my clarity. I think I have been looking outside for it and it has been withing me all along. I found it in the pocket of my heart. I have had it all along and just didn't know it! It is brewing.

The Heart Broken

I have been thinking of the heartbreaks in my past and their impact on my life. They have greatly influenced my choices and decisions.

Been in love more than a couple of time before. Just not with the right ones I guess. Made a few more leaps than I should have and tied a knot that was not stable. I have had a broken heart a torn heart and a worn heart. I have had a heart of congestion from worry and stress. I have had a heart that runs like an over-heated engine, too fast and unregulated.

This weekend I discovered that my heart can manifest things of its own power. I have allowed my heart to emit waves, sonic kind of waves to attract a desire. Like a whale calling to its loved ones across the ocean. The heart has the power to send out vibrations of truth to manifest its desire. I didn't realize how powerful it was until I saw the manifestation occur. I was frightened by the result. I shook, trembled. I realized I had manifested the wrong thing for my benefit. How powerful of a waste. All was not wasted as it was a worthy lesson for me. Not just a coincidence.

Does the heart really grow fonder?

Does it truly break? Can it fix the tear, leak or blow out? The human body is designed to heal itself, to regenerate. Can we hear the healing? Isn't it silent, cell by cell, over time? Growing in the dark and light during the day and night?

Here is your heart's desire. Give a piece of your heart. Have a heart to heart. Brave heart, lonely heart, sweetheart,two hearts beating as one.

Is it just an organ, hardwired to function? Does it truly feel? Are we interpreting emotion into it?

Can the Universe feel and hear and sense our heart?

I can think with my heart. Die of a broken heart. Lose heart. Know when my hearts just not into it. Restart my heart. A keeper of hearts. Tender heart, hard heart, cold heart. Still beating heart. Strong heart. Leave my heart. Telltale heart.

Wow just so much to feel and think about. I am grateful for my heartaches. I feel alive in the pain and conscious of my place in the Universe. I am knowing that it is a necessary pain. I know it is a necessary growth. I am careful with my heart today as it has been wounded and it has done much.

The Windfall and the Apple

I got a bag of apples yesterday. They were so good, crisp, sweet, tart. All of this brought a flood of memories to me. Memories of the orchards and the apples and the design of life and the Universe. How much I had forgotten and left behind. How much of the answers to our behaviors lie within the growth patterns and behaviors of the apple tree.

I always thought fall was the best season for me personally. Winter was the best season for my family as it kept us inside and close together. Spring was colorful and promising and summer was comfortable. But fall was personal to me. I have always felt like it was the best season for me, Ann, as if it was designed just for me.

The leaves changing, the temperature changing. Enjoying those changes, all of it is so resonating for me. Much happens in the fall, school starts, that means new clothes, new friends, new teachers, new learning and sometimes new loves. Fall meant a world of new smells. Dusty decomposing leaves, fireplaces, rain and snow(if we were so lucky) and especially the smell of hay.

I remember the days of windfall. Windfall was when the local apple orchards would allow us to come and pick up any of the apples that would fall to the ground and we could keep them for free. It was usually after the fall wind and rains would come and knock them to the ground. The harvest of the best apples was usually well past and the remaining apples were typically spotted, bruised or in some way short in growth or maturity until they get knocked off the trees. We would take the apples home and clean them and cut and dehydrate them and bake with them and make apple sauce. I especially remember Taylor's Apple orchard out near my folks farm. The rows of trees were so wonderful. The kids could run through them and it was always safe. There wasn't anything they could get into that required supervision. They could pick up as many apples as their little arms could carry. It was always fun. I remember the folks talking about the deer coming in the early morning to eat the apples off of the trees and I would be amazed that it was just a free for all the deer and yet no one would go and photograph them or witness it. I always wanted to see the armies of deer eating freely!

I like windfall since I could enjoy the fall sunny day while having some quiet time walking among trees. My tennis shoes would always be wet from the dew and slippery from the decomposing leaves and apples. I can remember the smell of the fermenting apples as they lay in the leaves rotting. The newly fallen ones on top and the rotting ones either smashed, covered in leaves or partially eaten by birds, squirrels or other animals.

I loved the smell of the cider press, the hay strewn on the path among the trees. The apple shed that had the great machines to sort the apples and the bins that held them. It was all so mesmerizing.

Sitting in the grass under the trees on a sloping hill. I would watch the apples roll down into the field. It was always a reflective place and time.

"You can count the seeds in an apple, but you can't count the apples in a seed." This was a saying that made me ponder at great length growing up. I can imagine how many times as a preschool teacher and mom I have taught about the apple to my children and students. The star in the apple when it is cut in a horizontally. The necklaces made from apple seeds. The apple prints in tempura paint. the dried apple leaves. The dried apple faces that look like shriveled up old people, adding cotton for hair and bent pipe cleaners for eye glasses. There was always endless fun.

Cleaning apples after windfall we would find worms, beetles and flies. Peelings could be spotted and thick. Bruises were of all shapes and sizes. Kind of like people. Some folks you know have bruises, worms and bugs, that make them who they are.
Some have coloring that are just defining as unique.

Some people, like apples, have more seeds inside them then one could tell from the outside. Some people, like apples, have no seeds inside them.

Some apples are beautiful on the outside and mushy on the inside.

Some people, like apples, are uniform in their appearance but internally have bruises and bad spots unknown to the outside world.

Some people, like apples, look like the other in their family tree but taste radically different.

Some people, like apples, are crunchy, tart and juicy, while one that may appear to look the same is dry mushy and flavorless!

People like apples, can spoil in a group, some can remain for months in the cold and withstand the season. Ever seen just one apple hanging on a tree when the others have all fallen?

Apples, like people have the genetic material of the universe within them to create and share and provide for so many types of wealth, health and untold treasure!

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I know I am most like my parents, I am grateful for that. The growth of my family and development of my children is that of an apple tree, the strength and integrity that is within their seeds and DNA. I would hope the legacy I leave is that kind of pattern of integrity, honesty, hard work, love, faith, passion and dedication that they have given to me.

Apple juice, cider or hot apple totie(sp?) with wine, rum or whiskey? The power and versatility of the apple. Just like people. we can have flavors and characteristics when chemicals are added or our state is altered.

So apples it is! This day I am celebrating the apple in me. In my children, in my life and in my world. An apple a day!

Cooking with Pluto

There was this moment today that I thought I could see so clearly. I felt it was an easy no brainer kind of thing. Something I could accomplish all in a day's work. I knew what needed to be done, how to do it and when to make it happen.

Then this funny thing happened. I woke up! I was dreaming. Having a complete sense of clarity in the dream state had been such a relief. A refreshing break from this earth life. A fragment of time and space when everything seems so clear actually slipped right through my fingers.

Whatever it is that is happening is still happening. I can't name it, but I can feel it, smell it and taste it. I can, in every moment of my day. That transformation of my life to become a better life, a better me!

I think that I know the recipe, the time required should be shorter than prescribed but I am being patient. I have collected the necessary ingredients. They are accounted for and are making the seasoning right. I can feel the warmth around the concept. It is brewing in my heart and in my soul. Patience is a virtue. Experience is the teacher.

I wonder how it will turn out how it will work out and what pieces will move next in the molecular structure of what is to become my life. Anxious and excited. I am not allowing myself to think about the negatives, the sad, the problematic things. I am focusing on the dream, the positive and the journey. Too many years of self talk has kept me standing still. Frightened to move. Paralyzed to act. Having enough, knowing enough, being enough. Silly ol' self. I had it in me all along and now it is there is the mirror. Looking right back at me. I can see me and know that it is good, knowing, feeling and alive. It is all there just for me to have, to share, to create and to expand.

I used to worry a great deal about what others thought of me and their perspectives mattered a great deal. I worried about not measuring up to some ideal. I know it was a false ideal and it would have never been something I could have achieved because it wasn't my ideal.

So the recipe stands, ingredients added, temperature rising and time is passing. Just waiting on the results. I can smell it, I can imagine how it will taste and how it will feel. I am looking forward to it completion and the chance to know, feel and live this flavorful next meal.

Grateful for all that I have, all that I am and for what is to come next!

Lot 'o balls!!

So juggling was under-rated in my view until recently. I realized that much of my life requires a PhD in juggling. Juggling kids, work, home, crisis, friends, dating etc. I used to think the kids in high school who could juggle were nerds. Later in college drinking with friends I thought juggling was hilarious and just a party trick.

Now look at life, just juggling things hour by hour. Drive here, stop there, call this person, answer that email, what's for dinner?, we are out of peanut butter! Sigh!

Realizing the world turns and i am walking across it's face while juggling more balls than i know what to do with is somewhat daunting!

So juggling is truly an art to me now, knowing what I know. The other part of this wonderment is the "Lot's 'O Balls!" piece. The proverbial having balls. Guts, stamina and fortitude. I can be truly thankful for the knowledge that I have grown in many ways over the years. More ways than I wanted. Mostly braver. Having the courage to step outside of the box, think outside of the box and more importantly speak outside of the box. I couldn't have done that twenty years ago.

Time passes and I pick up another chance to grow, adding a ball literally to juggle, a ball to know my inner voice to be brave. When one drops i pick up another one, or two or three! Olympic juggling? Perhaps it is all as it should be in this Universe, juggling is our life skill! Getting balls is our requirement.

Thankful to know I juggle better with the lights on.