I Can, I Must, I Will

We are in the thick of Dance competition season which means that Angel Daughter Number Four is spending weekend after weekend doing exactly what she lives to do.  This child was born with a dancer's soul.  Whenever she preforms a piece, she not only goes through the movements, but she interprets them with her entire body.  She tells a story without words.  She is quite small in stature, like me.  We each stand all of four feet ten inches in height and she often makes me stand back to back to "prove" to me that she has suddenly grown taller than me.(the others girls passed me up a long time ago)  When she does this, Mark tells her that she may someday grow taller than her momma in stature but that she will never grow larger in heart.  This is a very sweet sentiment but I think that she already might have and when she dances, the size of her heart just emanates from her body.  It is difficult not to be captivated by her.

This year, the team put together a Hip-Hop piece which is dynamic, inspiring and tear-inducing.  All of the girls on the team seem to be able to relate to this piece on a level that makes it even more awe-inspiring because the underlying message in the music and in the movements is that "I Can".  The girls come out with their sweatshirts zipped up while the voice-over talks about how no matter what anyone ever tells you, you can make your dreams come true.  You can overcome adversity.  You can succeed in spite of any difficulty.  It is a message that we all need to hear on some level but most especially, the teenagers and young adults who are growing up today.  Suddenly, the beat of the music changes, the girls unzip their jackets and their tee-shirts reveal the words, "I CAN", "I WILL", and, "I MUST".

People at Dance competitions tend to get distracted after spending hour upon hour in a loud, bright, over-stimulating arena, but I have noticed that during this routine, people pay attention.  AD4's wonderful coach is so great at putting together routines that demand attention and this one is no exception.  People from other teams stop our girls on their way off the stage to tell them how beautiful this routine truly is.

It has a wonderful affect.

That is AD4 on the left with her cheek on the floor!  The Jewish momma in me wants to run up on to the stage just before our girls go on with a bottle of Windex and a dust rag.  What could it hurt?

AD4 told me that this is the only point during the dance that she can actually stop to breathe.  She said that on Saturday, she made eye-contact with one of the judges at this particular moment, and it made them both smile.  It is difficult to make the judges smile.  Great job, AD4!

At the end of the routine, all of the girls turn around to reveal that their tee-shirts spell out "JUST BELIEVE".  AD4 is in the middle but her hoodie was kind of covering the "L" on her shirt at the moment when I took this photo.

It is very hard for this child to keep her feet on the ground!  Her excitement and enthusiasm for life is absolutely contagious!

One of her best friends came to watch her for the first time and loved it.  It is so sweet how they support and encourage one another.  I am glad that my girls have good friends who love them and who they love.

Angel Daughter Number One drove down from Los Angeles to have dinner with us and to watch her little sister compete.  She is also doing really well.  Mark is such a great daddy.  He never misses a competition that is within driving distance.  There are times when I am unable to go because of my health but Mark is always there to represent.  He went up for both days of competition last weekend.  I know that all of the girls appreciate their daddy's support.  I married a great man.

Angel Daughter Number Three got off of work at 7:00 but rushed over to the Anaheim Convention Center to support her little sister.  She got there in time with only one routine to spare!  She wanted to show off how much taller she is than I am.  Of course, she was wearing very high heels and I don't anymore, but I guess that she wins either way!

You might have noticed that one of my Angel Daughters was missing from the photos.  That is because she is in Palm Springs for Fashion Week.  Here is a picture of AD2 standing in front of an enormous blow-up of her latest photo spread.  It is a picture of the Project Runway Allstars and it is being featured nationwide right now!  She said that she walked into the Project Runway reception room only to be surprised by this life-size replica of her work.  So fantastic!  I borrowed this picture from her Facebook so it is very blurry but you get the idea.  I am just so happy for her.

My girls are all working on following their dreams which makes me a very content momma.  As long as I know that they are all healthy, safe, happy and productive, I can rest better at night.  Tomorrow is not only the first day of spring, but it is also AD3's 20th birthday.  Happy Birthday, Angel Daughter Number Three!  It is difficult for me to believe that I will only have one teenager for the first time in many, many years.  There was actually a time period when I had four teenage daughters at once.  I was not quite sure I would make it past that time period unscathed, but I did.  We did.  And as quickly as life moves, I like where we are now and I am also looking forward to where we will someday be.  It's all good:)

*Opps!  I just realized that I wrote that it was AD4's birthday today, when it is AD3's birthday!  Sometimes I have trouble getting it all right!  It's like when one of them is in trouble and I start calling them all by the wrong name until I get to the correct one.  Oy!  Happy Birthday AD3!  I love you!

Because we All Need to be Reminded

Walking down the beach today, these words suddenly came to me in the flash of a momentary notion and I thought, 

with the way that the world is right now

I am not the only one who needs to hear this.

So I picked up the nearest stick and I wrote you a message because I knew that the thought would pass through my mind, nearly unnoticed, with the thousands(tens of thousands?) of other words that would flit through my mind by the end of the day.

You are, you know.

Wings

Something about the light.  The shades and shapes.  The subtle melding of hues.  The way in which each   bird took its form against the background, reminded me as to how we each use our words to create a picture.  One word building upon another.  An idea clearing into focus.  A story which now exists where there once was none.

Watching the small flock of birds feeding outside of my window, I allowed my mind to wander into both dark and light.  Color and shade.  Stillness and movement.  And I began to consider the movement.  The rest. The fluttering of wings.  The fluttering of wings.

And I began to consider how just as the fluttering of wings can compel another bird into movement, the words of another can invoke more words and more words and more words.  With my story building upon yours and your story building upon mine until the ideas become fluid.  Rippling words concentrically building outwards until there are new meanings to be found.  Unique ideas.  Fresh stories being created in the quiver of an original word.

Each one of us has a hopping-off point.  A point at which something, or more importantly, someone, inspires us.  Moves us.  Motivates us.

We then land in the space where we are more able to nurture our own ideas.  We take sustenance from the words of others, and then when things are done correctly, we use those words to ignite our own notions.

It is a process that allows us to stretch our own wings.  Our own thoughts take shape and we are inspired to fly!  The words come and we compose our own unique flight-patterns.  All built upon the feeling that we get when we read something that inspires the soul out of its momentary rest.

And sometimes, the results are just breathtaking.  Our wings spread further and farther than even we ever imagined that they could.

Our hearts open wide.

And the beating of our wings, of our heart, take on another rhythm which also includes the rhythm of the words that came before.  From someplace else.  From someone else.  And an even richer story is launched into flight.

So I continue to read.  I read books, many, many books.  I read your blogs, filled with your words of life and hope.  Yesterdays and somedays.  Tomorrows and right nows.  I study my surroundings.  I take in all that I can.  I listen.  Talk radio happens to be one of my favorite mediums.  I fall asleep listening to words and ideas, and I continue listening even as I slumber.  The voices become part of my dreams.  I study color and shape and movement.  Not only the obvious, but the subtleties behind what is initially notable.  And my own wings begin to flutter with all of the possibilities.

This last picture caused me to think about how we share so much of who we are when we write things down.  And whether we share our words through publications, books or blogs, we never know exactly when something that we have said, will resonate with someone else, and so on, and so on, and so on.  Words, your words, can be just the flutter that might inspire someone else's flight.  Never underestimate the power in that.

Flutter on.

Gifts From the Sea

Walking along the shoreline, one dreary afternoon a few months ago, I spotted something much larger and much bluer than the pieces of seaglass that I typically come across on my weekend journeys.  The beaches on which I do my searching are neither known for, nor do they usually yield large or unusual pieces of seaglass and so, I am always quite happy with whatever I am able to find during my walks.  But every now and then, something extraordinary will turn up and I must shake my head with thoughts of "Why me?  Why this moment?"  And I feel lucky, as my spirit quietly jumps up and down inside of my body, trying not to let anyone else who might be glancing in my direction see that I am secretly ecstatic.  That I am secretly lucky.  Is it more that I think that they will run up behind me, taking me down at the knees in order to steal my special find?  Or is it my own inner-voice trying to save me from becoming too excited about something that might surely disappoint me?  That it won't really end up being what my eyes have perceived I have seen.  My intuition would tell me that it is a little bit of both.  The need to not display too outwardly, the stroke of luck that I have just come upon, as well as the self-protective mechanism which often kicks in when we feel we might have just momentarily gotten a little too lucky.

Yet we are so willing to accept the negative.  We are so willing to accept the strokes of bad luck or misfortune.  Somehow we view life's school of hard knocks as something we deserve, while perceiving the good fortune that comes our way as undeserved or unearned.  I have become somewhat of an expert at this, over the past several years, not questioning the unfairness of my life, but readily wondering what I have done to earn the "lucky" parts.  Wondering how I got so lucky in finding the right man and having the right children while building the right life for ourselves, yet never questioning why I must live with a chronic illness, or as a brotherless sister.  Why is it okay to question the positive things that happen as if we are undeserving, but then accept the negatives as though we had them coming?  The more I think about it, the stupider it sounds.  Yet it is a mindset which is difficult to change.  To admit that we do deserve all of the good that comes into our lives and that sometimes, just sometimes, we have the absolute right to question the crap.

After doing a little research, I found out that the large piece of cobalt seaglass which washed up right in front of me on the shore, came from a bottle which was produced during the years 1900-1915.  Cobalt bottles were used mainly for medicines which is why finding even a tiny shard from a cobalt bottle is fairly rare.  Somehow, and in someway, this little remnant found its way over oceans and time and unknown depths to the coastline right as a wave carried it onto the shore just below my feet.  My feet!  And guess what?  Nobody tried to take me down at the knees for getting excited about it.  Not even God.

So the next time something wonderfully unexpected happens, try something new.  Consider it a gift from The Universe or God or even your higher-self.  And instead of saying, "Why me?  What did I do in order to deserve such good fortune?", just try saying, "Thank you".  I wonder what might happen if we all decided to give ourselves the credit which we truly deserve and then reverently just accepted it.

May you allow yourself to openly and freely accept the good which can sometimes wash up in the waves of your life, without wondering why.  May you give yourself some credit for the good, while understanding the balance which will always exist.  And may you accept the gifts, without trying to tell yourself that you do not deserve them.  You do.

Transformation and Rarity

As I have written about before, over the past several months I have felt somewhat of a compulsion to search for and collect sea glass.  I know, in my heart, that I am searching desperately for something else, something that I have not yet realized or discovered, but the sea glass provides a beautiful diversion to what it is that I might really be looking for.  Sea glass consists of small fragments of glass which have become reshaped and sometimes re-colored over many, many decades barely reminiscent of their original shape and form.  The glass somehow finds its way into the ocean(or sometimes rivers and lakes) either by human hand, shipwreck, or happenstance.  This leaves it open to the elements resulting in a metamorphosis that can be breathtaking.  Each tiny piece is a rarity in it's own right.  A small example of how something can begin as one thing, and then, over time, end up as another. I also collect other interesting bits and pieces during my long, meditative walks on the beach.  Seashells, rocks and other ephemera catch my eye.  I cannot help but marvel at the absolute beauty which the ocean gifts back to the beach.  To me, it is like a treasure chest filled with the most marvelous of wonders.  I wander the beaches with a feeling of reverence that sometimes overcomes me.
Last week, I came across this rock that is filled with holes, varying striations and remnants of shells that must have been inhabited by tiny sea creatures at one point in time.  I often find rocks which have holes burrowed straight through, but this one was quite an interesting piece.  It was like a miniature village of some sort which was once part of the ocean floor.  I am sure that at some point in time, it was just a smooth rock, but somehow over time it's surface changed.  It was remolded by the sea.  Small animals and shellfish turned it into something other than what it had started out as.  And then, one day I was walking down the beach and it showed up at my feet.  It now resides inside of my home and it is still changing.  When Mark began to examine it, yesterday, he turned it over to look at it from the bottom and as he did, sand poured out from the holes.  It is an ever-changing creation of nature which continues to evolve in subtle ways even as it is explored by humans.
As I sit here considering the shear wonder of how things change, I cannot help but be reminded about what we, as individuals, go through during our lifetimes.  We are shaped and reshaped over and over again.  Each one of our lives sculpt us into unmatched beings of rarity, and just as the sea glass, or the rock or a seashell can change it's form depending upon the elements which it is exposed to, we change in so many subtle and not so subtle ways over the course of our journeys.  Each one of us is a rarity that should not be taken for granted.  A work of art which is in the constant process of transitioning, adapting and shifting; resembling what we once were, but in many ways, not even close to looking like what we will someday be.

As a bit of an aside, I had to share something that I noticed about this rock after going through the pictures.  There is a heart(without the pointy bottom) carved at the base.  And somehow, whatever other message is derived, for me it often comes down to one thing, one very important, life-affirming thing.  Love.

Treasure Hunting

I've been spending quite a bit of time searching for treasures lately.  Treasures in my family, treasures in my friends, treasures in our furry and feathery family members, treasures in my beliefs and treasures in the most unexpected of places.  

When my brother died eight months ago, I felt an almost desperate need to make a deeper connection with the earth and also with the heavens.  I experienced a deep-seated need for quiet that was unmatched by any other period of my life.  That need for quiet, a sense of being removed from any unnecessary background chatter, has carried over into today.  I crave it in the same ways that I crave air and food and sleep.  I need to be able to hear the small, quiet whispers of my soul speaking to me from a place that only God can truly understand.  And so, I began searching.  I began looking towards the ethereal places in the clouds and the hard, rocky surfaces of the earth.  I paid more attention to the whispers.  I listened for the quiet.  I allowed myself the space that I needed to search for treasures.

The simple rock that my oldest Angel is wearing around her neck is an example of one of the treasures that made its way into our lives.  I found it on the beach and looked at it as an interesting rock with a hole burrowed through it.  Angel Daughter Number One viewed it as a talisman meant to be corded with a string and tied around her neck.  To me, the hole symbolized a small circle of empty space.  To my daughter, the hole symbolized an area that needed to be filled.  To each of us, this rock is a treasure.
The Pacific Ocean is filled with treasures.  Some of them wash up onto the shore and are discovered during a quiet, soulful walk on the rocky sand.  Others float in on the soft, invisible breezes which drive the waves that crash upon the shores.  Some of those treasures are experienced from the sand, but others must be discovered within the wind-driven waves.
Or sailing upon the undercurrent of the breeze.
Using the unseen as a treasure to glide upon through the salty waters of the ocean.  Using the treasure of the unseen to take flight from the sea.  
Treasures that can solitarily be found in the company of quiet.  
Treasures that can bring you back to the true meaning of why we are here and what most of us spend so much of our lives searching for.  Each search is different, yet the treasures are surprisingly similar.

As I walked along the rocky beach alone with as much silence as my mind would allow, I once again searched for treasures.  As usual, tiny pieces of sea glass and broken sea shells stood out to me and I collected them, one by one.  With each treasure that I discovered, I was able to experience a deeper sense of quiet that set my spirit into a sense of calm.  A seemingly unimportant hunt for something that could tangibly represent my desire to honor my need for some quiet space.  And then I spotted this heart-shaped stone and I knew that within all of the quiet, most of the answers that I find revolve around something fairly simple and organic...Love. 

May you allow yourself the quiet space that you require to search for treasures.  Treasures that inspire your spirit, treasures that move your soul, treasures that help you to listen to your own small, quiet voice.

Because Life is Beautiful...

Mark and I know how blessed we are.  We have always known.  We began our life together with very, very little materially.  We had just graduated from college and we had big plans to drive from New Jersey to California, a place that neither of us knew anything about, to settle.  I had been to California once when I was about nine years old with my family, but Mark had never been.  We were going to start our own business...From nothing...With nothing...But we had heart and courage and dreams.  That was enough.  We did not know that we couldn't or shouldn't, so we did.  We were modern pioneers putting everything we owned, including our five cats and our dog, into the back of a Dodge Cube van and my little Dodge Omni to set out across the country.  It took us five days.  Five long, adventurous, scary, frustrating, bleary-eyed days to reach The Golden State and to plant our roots in our first California home.  We were young, in love, a little bit scared and a lot a bit unsure about what our future would bring.  But we had enough.  Even with just a little, we had enough because life was beautiful.
And so we celebrate.  We get a kick out of every step, every crazy, unsure step that life has set before us.  Our oldest angel daughter is only a little bit younger than I was when we began our journey.  She is the oldest daughter of two people who took on the "pioneer spirit" and created a mostly wonderful life from nothing.  
Our youngest Angel knows even less about how her parents adventure began, because by the time we had her, we were settled.  Deeply rooted in our pioneer life, far from where we had traveled.

But California is the land of opportunity and so we grabbed as much of the goodness that we could and made a beautiful life for our family.
(Marley is growing, isn't he?)  Our Angels have been afforded opportunities which Mark and I could only have dreamed of.
They love life.  We love life.  
(This is what happens when our fourteen year old Angel gets a hold of my camera.)  And so, because nobody ever told Mark and I that we couldn't do what we did and create what we have, we did, and we do.  Because life is beautiful.  We know this because regardless of the pain that life sometimes throws our way, it doesn't stop us.
We push back as hard as we can.  We remind ourselves that no matter what, we have enough.  We remind ourselves that life is beautiful.
We aren't at all sure where our oldest California native Angel Daughter will head on her journey, but we know that where ever she goes, she will remember that life is beautiful.  She will know that what ever she has at any given stage of life will be enough.
So dream sweet angel(and your lovely college friend, room-mate and our daughter when she is away from her family).  Because we hope that we taught you, and that we continue to teach you, that life is beautiful...
Even when it isn't.(or when your fourteen year old sister chases you around with Mom's camera!)

San Juan Capistrano or Why the Swallows Always Return

There is so much history around us, but it is often difficult to take the time to remind ourselves about those who have ventured ahead.  Last week, I decided that I needed a change of perspective and so I wandered down to a little town which is within a few miles of our home.  The town is called San Juan Capistrano.  It is most widely recognized for the Mission(the first one in California) which remains there, as well as the Swallows who come home to roost at the same time every year.  It is a lovely little town seeped deeply in history.  I have been told that there are even some bewildered "spirits" who wander through the streets and haunt the homes there, looking for their lost lives and loves.   
As I entered the Los Rios District, I came across this handsome gentleman.  I walked by him and he smiled a warm smile as I passed.  I smiled back and made a mental note that if he was still there when I returned on my way back, I would ask him if I could take his photograph.  When I approached him, he was more than happy to oblige.  He made a natural subject.  His face and the energy that he exuded truly encompassed the feeling of the area.  I was honored and humbled by this lovely gentleman whose name is David.  He shook my hand with so much warmth that I was overtaken by his generosity.
In the background of this photograph, you can see the old jail cell which was used to hold outlaws.  When my angels were little, they used to love playing inside of the cell.  They used to "lock" each other in and climb up and down the bars.  It kept them busy long enough for me to take some deep breaths and enjoy the beauty around us.
The Los Rios District is over two hundred years old.  It is the oldest town in all of California.  This picture shows the train tracks which go from Los Angeles to San Diego.  It is one of the stops along the way.
Many of the homes along this street are historical landmarks.  They range in age from forty years to two hundred and four years old.  I love looking at them!  Each new homeowner adds something new to the landscape of the community.  



This house is now the site of a beautiful tea room.  Charming.

There are several shops intermingled along with the couple of restaurants and private homes.  This is a new shop which was created out of a very small old garage.  When I went inside, the owner was a delightful woman who did a wonderful job creating a lot within a very small space.  There are quite a few artists who live in the area.  It is no wonder that they are attracted to this little town since it is so rich in natural beauty and history.

My hope is that this little visit to a historic town will inspire you to embark on an adventure, this week.  We tend to follow the same routines from day to day, and we often forget to observe the beauty that is around us.  I would love to see some photos of, or hear some stories about the areas in which you live.  

May the coming week bring you lots of happy surprises and bits of inspiration.