The weather has been cold and crisp over the past week, and we have all been fighting colds and the beginnings of ear infections. Horus had one particularly bad day, but we sat him in front of the fire and healed him with stories, love and attention, a hot bath, and early bed.
The next morning, he was much improved. We missed karate and we missed the farmer’s market, and everything has slowed. Yesterday we geared up to go on a nature walk, but it was frigid out, and we only made it to the verandah, where we excavated the boxes of Christmas decorations I had taken out of the garage.
Oh Christmas Tree. Instead of going out into the woods to find a scrawny straggler to adorn, for some reason I bought a tree. It was an impulse buy, and I rather regretted it, but now that it’s up, in all its ridiculous beefy glory, I kind of like it. It’s true, *all* Christmas trees are lovely.
Out on the verandah, in the freezing cold, digging through the boxes of holiday treasures, Horus found an ancient chocolate orange that, astoundingly, the mice hadn’t ravaged, and he (brilliant child) clued in to bashing it in order to free the “slices” and was stuffing them in his mouth as fast as he could, right when our visitors arrived.
The visitors were lovely, but I was a mess: bleary with exhaustion, dirty, and mildly embarrassed at the state of the house: cats prowling, eating food out of the bag because I hadn’t got around to filling their dish, pot full of broccoli on the stove since breakfast, ashes all over the hearth. Poor Treva got upset because I was ignoring her again (oh middle child, I do love you–and to my little sister, I am truly sorry) and then when we all trudged inside after a tour of the disastrous kiln, (pottery still lying all over the place, frozen into the snow) Treva smacked one of the visiting kids, and then she said a swear word, and I was, essentially, ready to die of shame.
By the time our guests left, I actually felt a bit sad: I am a failure, and this acquaintance who lives a ways away, must be thinking that I’m just an inarticulate nutcase with badly behaved children, living in a freaky, cluttered, cramped little hovel…which, on this day, was apparently true. I definitely have to work with these ideas: that I should be on my “game” when visitors come over…thoughts about procedure, image, the impression I make on the world. These things do matter, to everyone, to an extent. They matter to me in that I worry I lose opportunities to make friends…I was too tired to be allowed to socialize. Nonsense. I’m ok. Am I ok? Will my children be ok?
We had more visitors after that, but the day mellowed out. And then the kids and I read books and sang Christmas carols, and everyone went to bed, and I stayed up way too late, thinking about things.
On the weekend, I traded a woodfired coffee mug for an energy work session with a very skilled healer. She told me things I knew were true, and it was eerie and affirming, and comforting as well. I left feeling loved and broken and hopeful, which is, sometimes maybe, all we can be.
I have been thinking quite a lot about the eightfold path, and of Right Livelihood, and Right Speech, and Right Action. How to give, without giving myself away, or burning out. I have been thinking about how to create peaceful spaces for myself and my children, for and in my marriage, in my community, in my home and heart.
Sandy Hook, Egypt, Afghanistan. The North End of Halifax. The Downtown East Side. Individuals and societies are mired in violence all over the world. And yet, aggression and hatred are not our true selves. I don’t believe violence is “natural” or necessary, and I don’t believe that mental illness occurs as random chemical imbalance. It is popular to describe mental illness as “a disease like any other”. I suppose that insofar as I believe that all disease has an origin and a reason, a foundation in emotion, threads, I can reservedly agree, sort of. It doesn’t matter. There is no explanation for the rampage. Killing *is* mental illness. The blame falls on the institutions, the doctors, the politicians, the police, the media, capitalism, the guns, the film industry, video games, the suburbs, the drugs, the cars, the meds, the internet, war, poverty, competition, schooling, daycare, you, me.
And, of course, I always come back to birth, and how formative I truly believe our birth experiences are…and the sad fact that the majority of children in North America–in the world–are born into violence, and are assaulted during their first precious moments earthside. So many walking wounded.
Daily, I am reminded that my own children are processing trauma: the trauma of imperfect parents, the trauma of the generally fractured nature of existence as it is right now. Parents who sometimes say nasty things to each other, who get tired, who lose patience. I do not, at all, believe that a child’s hitting, biting, kicking (towards parents or other children) is “normal” or simply a “stage”. I think this is a clear message that there is imbalance and legitimate fear and anger, and that need to be expressed and addressed.
All the parents I know walk a tightrope over the morass of our culture. We pick and choose and hope for the best. I continually, daily, screw up badly as a parent, but I have a strong instinctual sense that if I can curate my children’s experiences in an honest way, filtering out media and ways of relating that divide–which for me, include television, movies, mood-altering pharmaceuticals, video games, (Is there really a video-game category casually referred-to as a “first-person shooter”?! Goodness.) –while focusing on ways of experiencing and being and interacting that connect us: books, walks in the woods, board games, music, art, real foods…that this is strengthening and healing in myriad ways. We build trust, we repair and recover from trauma more readily, we built our moral fortitude. This sounds sanctimonious, maybe, but I don’t think I’m alone in feeling a call to goodness.
I feel strongly that if I truly listen to my children, and see them, and hear them, and endeavour to do this throughout their formative years–throughout their lives–that they will be ok. I feel strongly that if I can get my shit together, in order to provide a healthier alternative to public schooling, that they will have an advantage. I feel strongly that if I can provide for them an example of how to live well, that they will be ok.
We have so much work to do.
Yo, there is soooo much work to do! I am a mess this week, but my child found a manual typewriter at an antique store we were rummaging though and she has blissfully sat on the sofa typing for days now. I have never seen a more happy person, in a house where her dad and mom are raging about the drug companies, and the GMO’s and the government and the general state of ugliness, she sits, type type typing…. and quoting the Dali Lama, so I guess I did something right!
We have had our share of yelling and throwing things and messy house, and all that and I used to think I had to have the perfect home for “appearance”. What I have found later in life is that my true friends could care less what my house looks like, and their houses are a mess sometimes too. and who cares?!
Tonight at dinner Wesley commented that Gerry and I seem to be getting along a lot better since she went off to school. The thing is, I stopped having my period when she left for school so I am not the crazy bitch once a month that I used to be, haha! There is a better, calmer life to come, I promise. Just not with small kids and PMS 🙂
and spring is four months away, not too long!
xo
Yeah. Your words are so medicinal, Tracey. My kids will be ok. My kids will be ok. SO glad to hear that passionate crazy artist mothers can create peaceful happy children who clack on typewriters and quote the Dalai Lama.
And thank you SO much for all of your truth-telling about selling pottery. All of your art-sale posts have been excruciatingly bang-on. You may have noticed that I haven’t written much on our pottery blog lately…well, I did switch from blogger to wordpress so that has been a bit of a headache and a time-suck….but also, all I want to do is complain about the freaking business of selling freaking pottery!!!! Somehow you manage to rant and complain in a beautiful, entertaining, non-bitter kind of way, and I don’t know if I’ve been up for that just now… It’s ok. Lots of making going on, just feeling a bit burned out on the selling end….
I hope you guys have an amazing holiday. I feel light after getting our tree decorated. Slowing down to take it all in.
Love to you and Wesley and Gerry.
yo
Beyond giggling about a chocolate-filled kid and his little sister making the same screeching noises at us that my son has been making for weeks, I believe my only other thought was, “Hey, her place and life is just like mine – colder, and infinitely cooler, but with the same amount of books and dishes and menutia of life strewn about.”
“Pop by” my house some time, and you’ll probably leave with the same general feeling, and I’d be left feeling (as I do any time someone just “pops by” and finds my house … well, the way it looks when I don’t prepare it, or myself, for visitors) filled with shame, guilt, and emotional exhaustion.
We recently had an artisan contractor over and, while he stood at our dinner table going over our Dream Studio plans, my almost-14-year-old dog had a massive poop on the kitchen floor about three inches away from him. As I ran around the house looking for appropriate cleaning products, said contractor snuck out the door as fast as he could. Your cat eating out of his food bag ain’t got nothin’ on us.
Ha! I’m so relieved, Kristin. So glad to hear you weren’t completely horrified. And yes. I will pop by! We’re going to be heading to NS in the first couple of weeks of January, so I’ll give you a heads up. You guys are great. yo
As usual Yolande, we’re on the same train of thought. You should read my last blog post, lol. It’s all about my crazy. It is sad when your kid hits someone (or won’t eat what your grandmother cooked especially for them because their mother said they loved it, for example). And stressful, and frustrating. You’re doing fine. Remember you’re also doing 500 other amazing things. 🙂 And Tracey, you just gave me so much hope that eventually, my pms will not turn my life upside down once a month either! Merry Christmas guys.
Oh Victoria…I loved your recent blog post (www.tinymuses.blogspot.com ! good stuff!) . Wishing you guys a super season. Much love.
You see what I mean? I have been meaning to write to you asking how you deal with feverish, fluish situations and there you are touching the subject.
I´ve come to the same conclusion: the mix of love, motherly instinct and some (bath) vapors aaand healthy food can do miracles.
And about the messy house! You don´t know me, but I can assure you, before I had kids, I was going through an almost ¨museum house¨ phase. It made me feel calm and happy to have everything in place. And here am I now, totally not minding the grime of city dust, mixed with sticky, baby-led weaning proof floor, slipping on toys and sitting on all kind of coloured pencils and markers and so on and so forth.
And then, about the world. I think our world is autohealing. It is so sick now, so out of balance, but somehow, from underneath I see a different consciousness coming out. A revolution, coming from, always, more and more parents concerned with their childrens´s education and growing up. Parents meaning to heal the world through a next generation. And funny, you might laugh, by saying this Michael Jackson´s Heal the world starts to sound in my head:
“Heal The World”
There’s A Place In
Your Heart
And I Know That It Is Love
And This Place Could
Be Much
Brighter Than Tomorrow
And If You Really Try
You’ll Find There’s No Need
To Cry
In This Place You’ll Feel
There’s No Hurt Or Sorrow
There Are Ways
To Get There
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
Make A Better Place…
Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
If You Want To Know Why
There’s A Love That
Cannot Lie
Love Is Strong
It Only Cares For
Joyful Giving
If We Try
We Shall See
In This Bliss
We Cannot Feel
Fear Or Dread
We Stop Existing And
Start Living
Then It Feels That Always
Love’s Enough For
Us Growing
So Make A Better World
Make A Better World…
Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Dream We Were
Conceived In
Will Reveal A Joyful Face
And The World We
Once Believed In
Will Shine Again In Grace
Then Why Do We Keep
Strangling Life
Wound This Earth
Crucify Its Soul
Though It’s Plain To See
This World Is Heavenly
Be God’s Glow
And I hope, we will come fine out of this– parents and children!
By the way, I am sorry for not writing you back on the FB page. I will certainly do it very soon.
Thank you again for sharing thoughts as you do. It does help a lot to know you´re not alone on this, especially when feeling strained, with almost no energy to go ahead.
I have to remember to write to you about being ashamed of kids´behaviour too. Too tired now and my eyes are closing! Love
Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful comment, Elena–I think we’re definitely on the same page. Wonderful words! I wish you the very best this New Year, Peace and love to you and your family.
Like all your posts, I really appreciated this one. It was really good to read your perspective on recent events. I just don’t know what to make of the world sometimes.
“We have so much work to do.”
I love this.
Thank you so much, Cheryl. Wishing you the best in the New Year.