After the bleary-eyed, heavy thickness of both personal and global bad news of the last two weeks or so, (or much longer?) I’ve sailed into a week of pie, kittens, and other adventures, with just Des. Scarlet is at an all day camp all this week.
I’m sad to say that my boobs did not grow another cup size in the last week, but that’s probably for the best. I’m as narrow as they come, and I’m not sure I’d have the frame to hold up too much. I guess I can just live with the fact that all the wishes I made from age 11 until.. now-ish finally were answered. Sorry about the TMI again. I can’t seem to stop the excitement.
I’m not unhappy or numb, but there are certainly filters in place. I’m still a little bleary-eyed, but also hopeful, and more peaceful than I was. Peaceful-ish. There aren’t pouring emotions at all hours of the day and night. I’m not crippled under the weight of it. I also don’t feel like I’m blocking it. I take it out, a little at a time, when I’m so lucky. When I have the time. Mostly, there’s a four-year-old boy in my arms or a kitten in my lap. We get overcome, by love and rainbow sprinkles.
When Des gets excited to stop by and say hi to his daycare. Then he steps in, and is overcome. All the swirling confusion, sadness, but mostly happiness. The love. When he has to wipe his eyes into my dress and shrink back from his wild self.
When he turns to me during the most moving part of Finding Dory and says, “Mama, do you know why my eyes are wet under my (3D) glasses? It’s because Dory is sad and I feel the sad.” An hour later, and he’s my pure clownish, giggling, running boy.
Thing is, if I could teach the world one thing.., I’d be teaching it to myself too. Even more. I’m part of this world. Teachers aren’t just teaching – they’re learning as they go. We all teach each other, and it never actually stops. Shouldn’t stop.
What I’d like to teach the world is hope. Finding your way out, up, safe. Sometimes things seem so murky but your brain and heart are always trying to find their way out, up, safe. We’re self-healing machines, inside and out. Remember that.
The weather will get better. Winter ends, unless that’s your thing, in which case I’ll tell you that summer ends too. We are all pushing through the murky messes of personal, national, and global politics, traumas, and confusion. It’s overwhelming.
If I could teach the world one more thing, it would be peace. Inner and outer. I would teach it to myself, to be able to teach it to others. I have in no way broken the mold on this. I can feel restlessness and irritation settling into my bones sometimes. And this is me. Mostly hopeful, sunshiney, cookies-eating, me. What’s it like for people being dealt harder blows, or with less mental equipment to find their ways out, up, safe? Maybe that where hope comes in. Hope for peace. Peace for hope.
I’d like to teach the world to let yourself get overcome. Don’t push it down, only to have it explode back up. Push it back, push it down, whatever you need to do in a world in which we’re sometimes screaming from the inside out, or outside in, and you can’t be as hungry, in love, roaring sad, sexual, strong, or whatever else it is that your true, wild, dream self is. Take it out and put it in your hands. Hold it in your arms. Honor it. Keep it alive, and send it spinning through our world. We need it.
And furnish it with love
Grow apple trees and honey bees
And snow white turtle doves”
— New Seekers
This is me linking up, as one of my favorite things to do, with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s timely topic is “If I could teach the world one thing..” And there’s still time to write yours. Come link up with your spin on the matter: HERE.