Stay until your love is, until your love is, Alive”
We all know the story. We all know someone who has one kid and a nanny, and yet is barely treading water. And we know someone who has nine kids, with very little help, and maybe six goats, and they’re diving smoothly into the deep end, and coming up cleanly for air. I think I’m probably somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards the nine kids and six goats with very little help variety. I was having a particularly trying Tuesday this week, because I had a very pressing draft due, and due to logistics and entanglements, Scarlet and Des both had friends over. So I was trying to work, make sure five kids had food, and maneuver my way with Rider, who decided that day to stand unassisted, do Downward Dog Yoga, say a slew of new words, work on cutting a tooth, and all around be someone who does it all. Who does he sound like?
Except he knows that it’s ok to fall. A lot. And not perfect everything. Or even anything. And he knows it’s ok to sit in the grass and watch the clouds roll on by. Maybe he doesn’t want to DO it all; rather he’s distracted and entranced enough to want to TRY it all. And sometimes that could mean five things on a Tuesday, with six goats, nine kids, and a near cutting tooth as well. I have to remind myself to stop everything. To stop, drop, and roll with this kid, when we actually have a beautiful day to enjoy. It’s just hard when we’re both so busy buttering up all our skills at once. We want to see and do and say it all. Breathe; watch the clouds roll on by. Again, I am humbled.
The emotions and feels are like the clouds too, ever changing by the minute, even, much less by the hour or day. These days, you can’t trust the weather. Maybe these days, you can’t trust the emotions and feels either. You can’t trust the schools to open, because of COVID or mold, or a particularly annoying combination of the two. You can’t trust people outside your loving circle to be reasonable, well-researched, open-minded, and protective. Of you. Of themselves. It’s a weird, weird time, but probably it’s always a weird, weird time. Maybe this is a weird time trapped in a weird time trapped in a weird time. My weirdness, coupled with current weirdness, coupled with local and national and global weirdness. You can trust love, though. You can trust neighbors to bring you bagel bites and pick up your kid. You can trust these things as surely as you can trust the passing clouds to morph and hide and then put on a magnificent display for you just when you most need it. Just when you think that all puffy cloud formations are lost behind the grey.
It’s unsettling, isn’t it? The tornados and floods; heck even the rain beating down our doors at night seems to be weakening the land, and seeping into our concrete, and into our concrete hearts. It seems like even the clouds are battling these days; puffy clouds vs. that lingering, all-encompassing grey, and it seems like everything and everyone is locked in a battle. Some are ridiculous and some are quite serious and terrifying. There’s hope too. Life has been full of puffy clouds and clear, sunny days, and overwhelming, all-encompassing grey too. People find a way, usually. Love finds a way; you can trust it as surely as morphing, overwhelming, hopeful days.
It seems right now like it won’t ever really let up. The clear days are fewer and far between, and the landscape is a battlefield, forever altered and littered with casualties and battles. Seems our concrete is softening, yes, but our concrete hearts can soften too. We can learn from each storm, and batten down the hatches better each consecutive time. Even when we’re waterlogged and overwhelmed, and still figuring out the flood damage from last time, piled on by flood damage from this time. The water finds a way in, always, even if it’s just a little by little, and not gushing forth. Love finds a way in, always, throwing beauty over all of the cracks in the foundation.
The weather these days, the sickness, and the laws, are beating down our doors and sinking in our roofs. So we batten and bolster; sometimes working together like magic to protect and reseal our exteriors. The storms are getting closer, breathing down our necks, growing louder. Deadlier. We look to our windows and walls; are they strong enough? Are they enough enough? Inside, we keep our hearts and we keep our lights on. Our warmth and our inner strength. Our families and our dreams. Seems nothing is getting easier on the outside, so we turn to within. Nothing is getting easier on the inside, but never, do we turn to without. There are trying times.
I went through my whole birthing playlist! I’m starting a new one, based on themes/feelings of the week, or what the Radio Gods are telling me. “Alive in Kicking” is #1 on my brave new playlist.