These Powerful Days

Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness.
Let us stand with a greater determination.
And let us move on in these powerful days,
these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be.
We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.

~ Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yesterday our church service was a celebration/contemplation of both Martin Luther King, Jr. day and the upcoming inauguration. I've mentioned once or twice how much I love my church - and it was days like yesterday that bring it home again, and help me appreciate the open-minded, thoughtful, progressive community I have there. I got to drum! With four other drummers, we played traditional West African rhythms. After the sermon, which was rich with thought-provoking messages of acknowledging our history as a nation that did (and in some ways still does) keep human beings as slaves, we played a rhythm called Rhumba. I got all teary-eyed, holding and playing my drum that came from West Africa, thinking of where we as a nation have come from, and where we are going. Still much to do - but one thing Dr. King foresaw? Tomorrow, we are inaugurating a man into the presidency of this country who was elected, not because of the color of his skin, but because of the content of his character. I am moved beyond belief - and yet, I do believe! It is happening.

My minister read a poem written by Alicia Chambers, the daughter of a UU minister. It is the result of a poem-writing exercise called "On the Question of Race" which you can read about here. I absolutely love this poem, and I'm glad to be able to share it with you. Get someone to read it out loud to you:

On the Question of Race

They ask me to write down my race

And I think
And I think
Very seriously

And I consider
Writing down the truth
And have my answer read

I have a strong woman
Colored like coffee
Whispering the secrets of our past
Inside this body

I have a wise man
Dark as chocolate
Beating his drum, fighting for freedom
Inside this body

I have a brave woman
Pale as snow
Reminding that we are more
Than meets the eye
Her secret is safe
Inside this body

I have a lost man
Colored like me
He is weak
Stumbling from place to place
Trying to find his way home
Warning me of everything
I do not want to become

I have all this music inside this body
The rhythms guiding me
Salsa
Meringue
Swing
Songs of freedom and hope
A name that can’t begin to
communicate
Where I’ve been or where I plan to go
Inside this body

They ask me to write down my race

And I think
And I think
Very seriously

And I consider
Writing down the truth
And have my answer read

I have the heart of my great-
grandmother
The strength of mi abuelita
The spirit of my grandfather
And my mother’s understanding
Inside this body

I have jacks
Dr. Seuss
Lullaby and Good-night
And marbles
Inside this body

I have Ray Charles
James Taylor
Bob Marley
Sly and the Family Stone
And We Five
Inside this body

I have a brother whose appearance
Does not reveal his culture

I have all our past
And so much future
Inside this body

But I stop and simply write down
“Other”

Chip is Famous. Seth is Proud!

The kitten we got Seth for Christmas fell asleep on top of my copy of Steve Pavlina's Personal Development for Smart People a few weeks ago, and I snapped a picture. Someone had started a thread on the Steve Pavlina forum about other uses for PDSP, and I posted it there: a kitty pillow!



I've been reading about Steve and his wife's choice to become polyamorous - a choice which deeply resonates with me. It just makes sense - to me. (It doesn't have to make sense or resonate deeply for you.) I hadn't read his blog post on Jealousy until today - I've been reading on the forums a lot, it's interesting to see everyone's reactions. So, what did I see when I read the Jealousy post?

A link to our picture of Seth's sweet kitty. Aren't you jealous? Ha.

Hold your applause, please.

An Arduous Joy

I. have been. a mess. lately.

It started a few weeks ago, when I looked at some photos on Gillian & Craig's blog. Here's a sample:



One moment, I was looking at the pictures and smiling, and the next, I was heaving, huge sobs. Things were going through my mind, like, "You just don't know what's going to happen. They all love each other SO MUCH, but no one lives forever." I know - I know - this is a driving force for a lot of unschoolers, the preciousness of life and our brief time spent together. Why not make it joyful? Why stress about nothing? Do the work to make your time together mean something.

So they weren't new thoughts, but for some reason, they completely floored me that day. And it didn't help that a couple weeks later, it was Craig's birthday, and Gillian posted this:


Wah, wah, wah, all over again, for the amount of love and caring and vulnerability and human-ness wrapped up in one person. A human being! Who will, one day, not be with us, because that's the nature of humans. Oh, what a terrible, horrible thought! How can I even say that? It was really with me, the poignancy and sacredness of our ephemeral lives.

I was crying at commercials. Crying when Guy Fieri talked to a guy who'd been working at the Beacon Drive-In for 50 years. Crying when Booth skipped going out with Cam to be with Tempe. Not every day, not all the time, but man, I've been... emoting. Easily.

I fell apart in the Aldi parking lot, because I was stressed due to low funds, and someone passed their cart off to me and didn't want the quarter for it. (That one has some history. Aldi is an awesome discount grocery chain where you "rent" the cart for a quarter. I didn't know that the first time I went, didn't have a quarter, but I found a cart where someone had left their quarter in. It's a favor I've returned as often as I can. Which has been pretty often - I mean, it's a quarter!) That day, I had a quarter, but just that moment of kindness slayed me - slayed. me. - and I sobbed in the parking lot.

I've learned to be in acceptance with my feelings, not judge - most of the time - but this was... weird. It felt OK, it felt right - I mean how cool is it, really, that someone would donate their quarter to someone they don't know? It's pretty freakin' awesome, that's how cool it is. Those intersections where one human life touches another, it's miraculous and tender and incredible. And it IS temporary. It is.

Just this morning, another reminder. I was awakened around 3:30 by an argument. At first, I thought it was just loud people, talking, then I realized they were arguing. I went on alert - when I hear arguing outside, I listen for children. If there are children, I'll go see if I can help. I just realized that this morning: I'll be there, tense, listening for little voices. These weren't little voices. A man, shouting: then. A gunshot. WHAT?!! Crap! Reach for the phone, dial 911. Tell her what I heard, hang up. I still hear arguing - that's good, that means no one's been hurt, I think. I peek out my blinds - then reach back to my nightstand, grab my glasses, peek out again. If needed, I want to get details to tell the police. Loud voice, "Get out of my car! Get the f**k out of my car!!" Then. Another gunshot. The same voice, "Oh, no. Oh, God. No!" I see a man running, I notice where. Should I call the police again? No, here they come. Two cars, lights flashing. Were there sirens? I don't even remember. Shouting: "Get on the ground! Get! Down! On the ground!" "You need to call an ambulance, man, the gun's on the ground. Please call an ambulance. My friend needs help." I see them shining lights on some bushes, yelling, "Put your phone down! Drop! The phone!" They bring the same man I saw running to the police car. By that time, there are 5 police cars. Then 6. Then 7. Then a firetruck, and an ambulance. And another ambulance. More police cars. Another ambulance.

I was shaking, shaking, shaking. I went out on my screened porch to better see. Why? I'm still not sure. Part of it - I wanted to see if the person was OK, the person that was shot. I could see the back of the ambulance, I was waiting to see if they walked there, if they were wheeled there... or if they were wheeled there with their face covered. I was scared, not for me, but just... guns, man. They're loud. And metal. And so, so quick. As I was standing there, it started raining. Drizzle at first, then pouring down rain. I knew the person had died.

I was oddly comforted by the number of emergency vehicles that showed up.

A police officer walked up to the porch, and asked if I'd heard anything. "Yes, I called 911." On his radio, "We've found the third party, the plaintiff. Yes. Ms. Knox." Third party?! Me? He asked if I'd come out and make a statement, or if someone could come in. I told him my dog would go crazy if someone came in, and I'd rather go out. Put on my shoes and heavy coat. Thank goodness the boys were with their Dads this weekend. He led me to a police car, where I sat in the front seat. He said the homicide investigator would come talk to me shortly. Oh. Homicide. I guess they did die. I could see someone taking pictures, I didn't know if they were with the police or a news agency. I guess news agency.


I ended up being driven to the police station to give a statement. It was about 5 in the morning then, and I didn't get home 'til after 6:30. Before I left, I went out with my dog, Jack, to the back yard, and it was storming. Lightning and thunder. In January. I have been incredibly, incredibly sad all day. Not weepy and emotive, just sad. It sounded like the person who shot the other didn't mean to. It sounded like an argument gone horribly wrong. And that person? In the car? Here one minute, arguing, gone the next. Just. like. that. Another miraculous intersection of humans.

I don't know if this post has a point, or if it needs one. It all seems connected, somehow, the love and ephemerality and poignancy and bang. Over in an instant.

Be in love with your life. ~ Jack Kerouac

Christmas Tree Perspective

Background details: When Evan was born, I was a single mom. There's a story behind how he was conceived (besides, you know, physiologically), and where I was in my life. That's not this story - but I was single when I got pregnant with him, and remained so for 6 years after he was born. His Dad has always been here for him, they've always regularly spent time together. I knew when he was teeny-tiny that it was my mission to be there for him. Before he was born, I had the conventional mom-thought at that time: I'd go back to work when he was around ten weeks old. I thought I was being generous by going further than six weeks. THEN I met him, right after he was birthed at home, and I knew there was NO WAY I could go back to work. Through the years, I found ways to make that work - first, living with my mom, who had not become as cold as she would later, then bartending and cater-waiting on weekends when he could be with his Dad. We moved into a sweet little 2-bedroom house right before he turned 3. Money was always tight, but we had a life we loved. I started watching kids so I could be with him all the time, and his Dad started having scheduled visitation, rather than being there when I worked.

For those Christmases we shared when I was still single, and it was just me and Evan, I started a little tradition. Because we had NO extra money, a tree was mostly out of the question - unless we waited 'til late Christmas Eve, when the tree lots gave their trees away. I would get the tree with Evan, and tell him we'd have to decorate it on Christmas, but I'd actually put it up and decorate it while he slept - then when he woke, he thought Santa brought the tree in and decorated it! I did this two years in a row. I can see now it was magical, it was thrifty, it made sense. I'd love to say that I made the decision consciously and graciously, and stayed fully aware of the magic. Instead:

I was kind of a maniac! And I HATED myself, just absolutely hated myself the whole time, for not providing Evan with a "normal" Christmas, like "normal" families have. The first year, I had no idea we'd get a tree for free - I just drove into the lot hoping we could get a good deal on a Charlie Brown tree, and I wept when the owner just handed me a beautiful tree, and told us to take it home. I was stressed - WHY couldn't I put up a tree before Christmas, like everyone else? I was thinking, Evan's going to remember this! He'll be telling his therapist when he's an adult: 'My mom couldn't even get a tree up before Christmas!' I felt so disorganized, so... overwhelmed. This isn't how it's supposed to be done! I kept saying to myself. I know I wasn't fully present for Evan.

I had SO much to learn, about appreciating the moment that IS. About accepting where I am. About loving myself. About knowing what's really important. I look back now - and dang! That was creative! And practical - AND it was magic for Evan. But then? I couldn't see that at all. I send love to my younger self, lots and lots of love, to me so overwhelmed and stressed, but full of love for my child, this beautiful boy.

And it's causing me to ask today: What am I stressed over now, that if I give a different perspective to, I'll appreciate? What's causing me to not be present for my kids today? Where am I judging myself for falling short of where I "should" be? Can I breathe, and love everything about this moment?

Why, yes, yes I can. In the intervening years, I've learned what's important: us. BE-ing together. Doing what we need - and want! - to have an amazing unschooling life. This moment, this one, will never come again, so it's my job to move everything else aside, all the self-doubt, all the judgment, all the petty, petty money stuff to BE HERE NOW. Fully and lovingly.

I also send love to my younger self (and the boys!) for teaching me just that. Over and over again.

I hope you're able to appreciate all the moments you have this holiday season. Even stressed (you don't have to go there, you know!), even overwhelmed, even joyful and full of love. It's all magic.

Gassho ~

A couple weeks ago, I read this post by writer Jennifer Harvey. I started to write all this in her comments, then realized: 'blog post!' Also - 'Don't hijack the comments!' Thanks, Jennifer!

Well, It's True in My Case

I was playing that game I haven't yet gotten sick of, and one of the players was trying to get a chat started. After a few unpicked-up-on attempts, they finally just typed, "Any cute girls on here?"

Another player replied, "Dude, it's the internet. We're all cute girls."

Rockin' My World

Seth has been asking to hear this story over and over, and for me to tell it to nearly everyone we come across, for the past couple of weeks. He doesn't know I'm putting it on here - surprise!

About 7 years ago, we (my then-husband, Evan, Seth and I) were forced to move from the house we were renting. It was, quite literally, falling apart, and had been for some time. We were making things work; it was a blessing to rent a 2-bedroom home for $200!!! a month rent. That's right - $200. It's what allowed me to stay home with Evan when I was a single mom with him. Sure, it was drafty, and the heat sounded like a jet engine when it came on. Sure, only one burner on the stove worked reliably. Sure, the windows couldn't open. It was worth it! But the owner decided it was time to do some work, so we had to move. It was only supposed to take 3 months; we planned to move back in when he was done. For that short a time, my mother offered to let us stay with her, and we, foolishly, took her up on that offer. I didn't realize how mean and cold she had become since I had moved out of her home 6 years earlier. The brief times we saw each other were slightly stressful, but nothing out of the ordinary.

It was, without a doubt, the worse 2 months of my recent life. She put down Evan for the stuff he chose to do - he would write a comic book and she would ridicule the drawings. He wrote a story - he pretended like the conversation in the book Yo! Yes? was one half of a phone conversation, and he wrote the other half. It was funny and clever, and very inventive. My mother read it, sneered, and said, "Some story." He had just turned 9, people! Nine. It was AWFUL. It was painful and difficult. I have no doubt it was hard on my mom - used to living by herself, and here's me and my husband, and our 9- and 2-year old and our dog, too - but she made it a hell. We saved up our money and got out of there, even though our house wasn't finished; we ended up moving into an apartment complex. They had insulation! And windows that opened!

This was at the beginning of February, right before Seth turned 3. At that time, I used to get a bit down in the wintertime, and I could feel myself spiraling down that dark tunnel. The time with my mom was so stressful, and we couldn't move back into our little house, that I loved so dearly - John wasn't willing to break our lease to do so, when the house was finished a couple months later. One day, I was out walking with Seth, just taking a tour around the apartment complex. It was cold and gray, and my mood matched. I felt myself teetering on the edge of the abyss of depression, and felt powerless against it. On the walk, we passed a gravel driveway. Seth broke away from me, ran to the rocks, stood there a second and yelled: "Mama!! ROCKS!!" His face just glowing with his huge smile. He was in awe. Of rocks. He could barely contain himself. In that moment, I felt something inside break open, and I smiled, then laughed. How could I possibly be depressed in a world that had rocks?

It turned my view around. That one moment put me on a whole different course than I was headed down. I didn't fall into depression - I kept looking for the rocks. Then came Spring, and at the apartment we put out bird feeders, so we had squirrels we tamed to the point they'd crawl up my leg to get peanuts, and baby ducks would come feed with their Mamas on the seed that fell on the ground.

Rocks. Go figure.

Uh, oh.

I'm in trouble.

I've been on this game for a while this morning. Is there a way to block sites during working hours?

You get a word and you draw that word, and everyone else playing guesses at what it is, and you guess at their drawings.

The game itself is fun! No need to sign up, sign in or anything. Only one rude person so far, who had to draw a penis, no matter what the clue was, and after a while, that was funny. It IS called "Draw My Thing". Guess they took that literally. So stay with your kids if they play. 'Cause you know - penises. Can only lead to harder drugs and all that.

tee-hee... harder.