The Blog master told me I should join GOODREADS. This is something I intend to do. I intend to read Hugo’s Les Miserables….all 800+ pages. Mrs. C. said it was a long read. Ha ha. Summer will fit this form and I will fill it with long jaunts of reading when I am not writing, traveling, hiking and swimming. Reading the Bible and other good books provides additional saving graces, offers perspective and points of view to digest and to respond to.
Words provide the voice of a sought for friend in the absence of the real thing. Reading offers me the opportunity to see into the minds of others and to attempt getting outside of my own narrow ways of thinking. Maybe. Not sure I will ever get out though. So if I can not get out…..who would ever let me in? The authors.
In a Peter Pan shadow and miracle of not being fired, in the absence of retirement, in two months shy of summer, and in my current reality of a pretty wonderful working world, teaching, and being mostly happily engaged in 5:00 am to 5 pm +, busy twelve-hour days, with children at home and children at school and swim team with teens half the year ….READING for me is just not a priority.
I could try harder I suspect. Truth is…I am lucky to read the math lesson for the next day. I am lucky to hatch a Who, and to hang onto a Horton memory, in firming up plans for children’s reading, spelling, vocabulary, and science. Mostly I distract.
Daily I pray to be inspired in navigating themes for student writing for the week toward more Sage. Some days, I am just lucky to make out correctly, the increasingly small writing… nutritional facts and printed labels on commercial items as I zombie walk the grocery store. Shop more toward, Slim Goodbody organic, and less toward evil thoughts and sweets as I maneuver the halls, and problem solve portals at school.
Sometimes I get home with something very foreign, maybe birthed in the International, or gluten free isle. Sometimes my take home is something I normally would not have even purchased. Sometimes, surprisingly, I arrive in Zion carrying a cup of strange, new blonde or pike peaked misto coffee. Korean ramen. But then again, I am highly distractable, and fuzzy in my thinking. Fall to addiction. One day, and the day after that, and the day after that….I even saw a coffee maker posing in the workroom. This may have been a sleeper though. Pinched myself to see if it was real. I didn’t plug it in though.
Today I slept in LATE. This is unbelievable! I am a 5:00 am girl with a built in early riser clock. Cock a doodle doo. Sustained, lonnnng sleep is yes, somewhat of a rarity for me, a miracle….and coveted treatment. Some days I would like a girlinthelittleblackdress to design me a new practical, more righteous style, a better way of life that is more modest and less runway. Some nights I yearn for a Darling mother to tidy my thoughts as I toss and turn familiar pages of daytime stories. She does sometimes. Sometimes I hear her and obey. Sometimes I don’t hear well. She is wonderful even in the absence of my wonderful. I wish I could tell her this.
SLEEP, has become a very much desired and appreciated amenity. Eventually, I come by it naturally without pills. When received I most certainly celebrate it. The blessing of it comes from a realization of the absence of it (sleep) in a six month long damn nation occupation, coupled with blessed rompings to the spillway blogs and spillway dogs. In trying to Let Things Go, my grip sometimes just gets stronger. This is not good. How to relax into righteous? Feel Christ’s Grace? How to not rush around trying to change things? How to feel better and to Love more liberally, and not upbraid.
Last night, I was pretty unsettled with emotions of the day in thinking on my 4th grade Opera reality that felt more like Chopra, or smack-down, but which was was really, truly wisdom. The answer I received was the best answer, just not the one I had hoped for. I was additionally haunted by a surprise drop-in kind visitor bearing swim team compliments, and hinting a call for more self control mingled with best wishes for Wax Museum. I was also a little stressed with Wax Museum coming to a head (which I love!). Too, I was on edge because I played hookie (with permission) from the final night performance of Wax Museum. So instead of doing my duty at school, I took Angel to the theater. This was the “family matter” that came up. Somehow I could not tell this to nine year olds. Les Mis in the round at Hale Center Theater.
Part of me felt this decision noble toward being a better mom and spending time with a youngest child who is frequently over-looked, and prematurely out of the nest. At the same time, part of me felt like I was failing in my teaching job in yet another way. I was buying into the lies of guilt and regret. Tracks, and covers, I sometimes play and replay. Bah! Why can’t I remember who I truly am. Maintain boundaries…even in my mind.
I was sitting in a lovely theater inhaling and exhalling from my lungs nasty special effect theater smoke. In opposition to this, I was bucketing into my soul the sweetest heart piercing songs, lapping up deliciousness and feasting on food and drink of the think kind, as if ambrosia for and from the gods. Suddenly I was struck by….Intermission and the longest women’s bathroom line in the history of the world…ha ha….Not really. I was stressed… in worrying about one little boy that only an hour ago, sat by so sad in the kiva. Then, my duty shifted from fun and games to healing balm. He leaned his head on my shoulder as we waited time to walk home. This memory could not leave my head and I was miserable with the reality of my absence with regard to the child. Thought of Fontaine.
In a high, plush, soft back seat I sat ucomfortably, knowing I would not not make it back home in time to see this child perform. I was glad I had not promised this, but thought he may have hoped it. I wished I were there instead, building him up as I like to do with the children. Then I snapped back to reality. I realized that tonight the build up was directed to my Angel. MY ANGEL. In this I regained focus. I am really not great at focus. I think I think too much and try to do too much. Only to do very little good and cause problems as a side effect. How does one lighten up and tighten up simultaneously? How to love the ones I’m with, fully and appropriately and with focus.
All in all…I concluded that Les Mis was AMAZING! Amazing, amazing, amazing. The special effects, the visual presentation. The STAGE! Turntable, raising retractable platform! OMGosh! This was far better than winter’s high school musical with my Middle child majoring in minoring, and even better than the U of U Pioneer production last fall in many ways. The Hale Theater acting and singing rivaled that of Broadway, I imagine. Haven’t been to Broadway.
The message of Hugo’s masterpiece, as always, and every time, so wonderful and…..brought me to tears. The tone….humbling to heart rendering and repentance. I began to see I am and have acted dreadfully…and acted almost every character role in my own life in some way. This catharsis was good. Depressing. …but, good, yes. Good for me to experience this lowering, this side of me, in being brought down and reduced from a sometimes proud state. Religious in less the joyous realm. I have learned that tears can sometimes heal, and sometimes simply reopen wounds to festering.
So, last night it was difficult to fall asleep. Once there, I WANTED to stay in this place, in a state of peace, forgetfulness, escape for as lonnnng as possible. I slept until 10:00 am. Seldom does my cruel conscious computer brain ever log off, or boot down. Sleep is a heaven sent angel of relief and release. Less the cherubim and flaming sword of waking, and traditional Sunday Service of my culture. Depression, lack of sleep, sin.. I think some people take medication for these plagues, or see a shrink. Christ is the best physician. Listen to favorite Rhonda Byrne cds. I pray and will toward happier. Seek Jesus when I’m in my holy senses.
I am grateful for sleep. It gives me a chance to reload software, to shut down, to reboot toward a new promising clean, untainted day of good and better works. It is a metaphorical baptism of the brain. Brain a word that means “waters” in some language I forget. A cleansing in waking to more promised optimism, smiles, footfalls of gratitude, and praise. Believing in another day of Jesus rising in the East with daybreak and the law of attraction bringing me all the best things. I wing this way as I work toward awareness and appropriate presence. I want to be my best self for others and for me. I wish I could hold this and keep it and live it….but it flits and flutters away like a butterfly. National butterfly Day, they said on the radio on the drive to SLC….then gone.
And so in this very moment of wake and clear thinking, I sort of own this tactile sensation…in the small living thing cupped in my hands…in my heart, in my mind, and in my God given strength. I hope to act on it, this desire to love and to serve with determination and perseverance in…..I am, I will, I can. Somehow it will work out in the end. Love will heal this malady.
I rise “At the end of the day” taking the hand of an nondescript friend on the barricade line that feels alive again and Heavenly, and recommit to a new day. I hug my daughter. Touch is as reassuring for one in middle age, as in childhood, or in assisted care. Here among the living, I hope to hear the “people’s cry.” Perhaps it is the cry of a child, or of Granny’s exit prayer, and I will act as Jesus would, in choosing others’ needs over my own selfish ones. We go to dinner at Angel’s place of choice. Then go shopping for swim suits for her. Girls night out. Feels good.
Loving better will make me a better person….teacher, mother, and even a more reformed prisoner. 24601. I think this to be somehow part of my social security number. This man with a tatooed number is a hero. If it were tatooed on me, I might remember it. If it were on paper and were mine, I would maybe tear it up or forget it though. Remember to render what is Caesar’s to Caesar, and what is God’s to God. Tax day is just around the corner and someone named Tax Rex ( ha ha T-Rex) will need this number. For the record, he is a nice man and is in no way threatening. He even reimbursed my legislative money at the final hour.
Social security number: 246-01-****. This makes me smile, even in paying taxes. I have much to love and to be grateful for in this and many other accountings. 🙂