More gratitude

1. Gorgeous fall colours!
2. A breakthrough moment in my Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction class.
3. J asked a grown-up for a diaper change in the midst of playing in the playground. His willingness to voluntarily stop playing for a diaper change gives me hope he'll eventually be willing to stop playing for potty breaks too. Yes, my three-year-old is not yet toilet-trained. Sometimes I'll be watching him play and he will suddenly throw his arms up in the air as boys do and his shirt will rise up and expose an inch of diaper around his little belly and it is so jarring. He is at that age where he is becoming such a big boy and yet he's still my baby too. Occasionally I call him, "Baby," and he says, "I'm not a baby," and I say, "No, you're not a baby anymore, you're a big boy, but you'll always be mommy's little baby too." He seems to be okay with this. Still, I'm glad we're making a little progress on the diaper front.

Another day's gratitude

1. More gorgeous early fall weather.
2. Our city and its park planners and donors for building the children's garden.
3. I took the initiative and got us out into the park for a picnic on one of the last evenings of summery weather. J and K embraced it. We all enjoyed our picnic, watching the fluffy squirrels race around the hummocks, looking for acorns in the oak leaves, and walking across the fallen tree. I loved spending the evening with my two favourite guys, in their matching NHL team shirts.
4. Yoga.
5. My husband's hockey knowledge. When we got home he got J to try on last year's skates, and determined that they're too small. So adorable to see our little boy standing in skates! They're going to buy a bigger pair tonight.

Daily gratitude

Today I'm grateful for:

1. My husband. I started a drawing class today. It feels crazy to sit and enjoy an art class, which he paid for since he's the one working, while he works so very hard! I love my husband. I am so fortunate. I am grateful for my husband every single today, but this particular day I'm grateful to him for enabling and even encouraging me to take this art class. I was absolutely focused and immersed throughout the class. Thank you honey.
2. The art teacher, for not being overly critical and for even finding room for praise in my absolute beginner drawings. 
3. An incredibly beautiful fall day. Sunny, breezy, hot, and shades of green and orange. Geese everywhere. Ducks coming in for landing, like little winged torpedoes. Amazing. (J and I went to the marsh at 4:30.)
4. Our son J. Again, I'm grateful for J every single day. Today, in particular, I'm grateful to him for letting me backpedal on McDonald's! He requested it; I had nothing planned for supper: I acquiesced. An hour later, driving home from the marsh, I persuaded him that we should just go home and have fish for supper instead. He said, "Okay mom"! I am grateful to him for being such a good boy. And for eating all his fish, most of his quinoa, most of the carrot he really did not want to eat, and all his red pepper pieces. And for deciding after a few minutes that he actually didn't like the blue lollipop that the barber had given him, and throwing it in the garbage.  
5. Two good parking spots in two nearly full lots. (I'm not, however, grateful for the exorbitant cost of parking. Or the two hour max on paid street parking anywhere in this town.)
6. Our dog Charley for a relatively peaceful walk all the way to the strip mall. J for getting into the swing of things and holding my hand when cars passed, and for stopping at intersections. And the pure joy of running with a three-year-old and a Spaniel -- Charley and I running up from behind J, raising the leash high over J's head, and passing J on either side; then letting J pass us; and doing it again and again and again, with laughter and smiles all around. 
7. Two dads, four boys, goalie pads, a pair of nets: driveway hockey.
8. Constructions workers who don't get weird when we sit in the car and watch them work. J loves to watch construction. This morning, it was a concrete driveway pour, with a sky-high pump truck.
9. A great drop-off at J's daycare. Mid-hug he started mumbling something. To my surprise, it was, "I want to play trains with J.B." Well, okay! J.B. was happy to share and they got busy right away. 
10. Another J moment: He picked up a footstool in the interpretive centre at the marsh and carried the footstool over to a display he recalled passing earlier, so he could get a better look. 
11. Happiness.
12. So sad, but so moving: "When does heaven close?" J continues to grieve for our cat Riley, and, less immediately, for my mother. He has asked this twice now, still hoping that Riley will come home when heaven closes, still grappling with the fact that Riley is not coming home. Who else is in heaven? The stick insects, who died at daycare. Riley passed away last December. My mother two years ago. The stick insects, this month. I suppose I'm not really grateful for this moment, but I don't want to forget it. It seems to say so much about J. 

Sweet dreams all. I miss you mom. I love you.

Who wrote these wise words?

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." 
As someone who finds it hard to change directions, this quote resonates with me. 
Today, it soothes me. 
It also mystifies me, because I haven't been able to discover its source. I believed that E.M. Forster wrote these words, but others suggest that Joseph Campbell did. If anyone can point me to the text I'll be very grateful. I'm hoping that it's an E.M. Forster novel, in which case I will promptly read it. 


P.S. After more digging I'm satisfied that E.M. Forster wrote these words. I just can't figure out when or where. It does not appear to have been in a novel. I will have to read more Forster!

A shift in perspective

My husband and I are facing a difficult decision, made more difficult by the fact that the ultimate outcome is largely beyond our control. How to make a weighty decision with many unknowns?

I was feeling pretty raw after a late night grappling with this issue, when J pointed out a painting of his which has been displayed on our fridge for the past few weeks. I suggested we paint again, and he wanted to do so immediately. After breakfast we got out his paints.

I sat down beside him with my own piece of paper, applied paint to brush, and tried to let my creativity flow. As my brush moved, I considered that there are many potential paths in life, that we cannot take them all. I suddenly realized that there might not be a wrong decision. That regardless of the direction we choose, our lives will almost certainly be full and joyous. It was a revelation for me.

J and I stopped painting and we baked a cake together. Later, we covered the chocolate frosting with multi-coloured sprinkles. I forgot to take a picture, but it's easy to visualize. So pretty.

It was kind of a perfect morning.

The Odd Life of Timothy Green: Creepiest movie ever?

Last night I went to see a movie with a friend. We settled in with our popcorn, chatted while the theatre filled, and turned our attention to the screen when the lights dimmed. I suddenly found myself confronted by a trailer for an infertility film. Really, I thought? An infertility film? I suppose so. It's reality for far too many of us today; it was only a matter of time before someone made a movie about it. Call it the Kramer v. Kramer of the, um, what do you call this decade anyway?
But wait -- it gets worse...
A loving couple, told that they will never conceive, bury their parenting dreams with their own spontaneous parenting wake. They drink red wine. They fantasize about their would-be child. They take notes. They put the notes in a box. Okay. Fair enough. Infertility is agony and grieving is healthy.
But then...
They bury the box. In the backyard of their little house. Their Gothic-revival farmhouse.
It is a stormy night. There is a weird light. And in their house they discovery a dirt-covered boy in a box! So creepy! Not even a baby -- no, a boy. A walking, talking, perhaps-eight-year-old boy. He greets them as Mom and Dad. Seriously. I am nauseous just thinking about it.
And then it gets weirder still because it's a Disney movie! It is not a horror movie. It is a movie-of-the-week movie. With a dark and twisted and creepy soul. There are hot dogs and soccer games and curious events in the yard of the Gothic-revival farmhouse. I shudder to imagine what happens next. In fact, I'm going to try hard not to imagine what happens next in this movie.
The Odd Life of Timothy Green is scheduled to open next summer, but it's already being promoted.
Creepiest movie premise ever or what?

An ambassador for gentleness, forgiveness and spiritual awareness

This post was inspired by a post and follow-up comment by Tanja Hoagland, the Minimalist Packrat.
Tanja's moving post is a reminder to pause and breathe. At the end of her post, she describes a shark-sighting during her morning walk, and shares some shark symbolism from Avia Venefica's website. As if spotting a shark before breakfast wasn't striking enough, the shark symbolism is intriguing. 
Tanja's post and the shark symbolism got me thinking about how much I love natural surprises. Like a woodpecker feeding her young. Crickets in the city. Especially, deer.
Where I live, we don't see sharks, but we are lucky to see deer from time to time.
No matter how rushed I feel or how busy my thoughts, whenever I spot a deer I slow down spontaneously.
If I'm driving, I slow or stop my car of course.
More importantly, my body slows. My breath gets deeper, my mind stops racing, and my heart follows suit.
One deer-sighting was particularly unforgettable. Shortly after my mother's death, I was driving to work one morning when I was stopped by the sight of a deer at the edge of the road. She wasn't just any deer. She was massive and majestic. While it didn't seem cool enough to see one's breath, the deer's exhalations froze in expansive clouds, drifting over the road. I was filled with the certain belief that I was being visited by my mother's soul. I felt comforted and loved. 
Since that day I've seen many deer, and mostly I am moved by their beauty and grateful for their presence. Always, I am inspired to go a little slower, breathe a little deeper, and appreciate the important things in life.
So after reading Tanja Hoagland's post this morning I took her lead and looked up some symbolism at Avia Venefica's website. 
"When we encounter the deer in the wild," Avia writes, "our breath catches - we are transfixed by their graceful features and delicate movements." Sure enough. 
"The Celts also believed that deer were associated with the fairie realm," she writes, "and would lead troops of fairies - hundreds of them trailing behind them as the stag cut a path through the forest." Gives new meaning to the term 'stag party'!
On her blog, Avia adds that a female deer, "is an ambassador for gentleness, forgiveness and spiritual awareness." Indeed.