Warrior - now with a Heart of Gold!

This last Thursday I imposed upon my father to watch my three children (two of them screaming as I left) to ride the Frontrunner to SLC with DreamPacker.  Why?  Because I with near desperation wanted something.

I wanted to see, hear and be fixed by Kirk Duncan. 

For those who don't know Kirk, he is the founder of the The 3 Key Elements.  Dreampacker lent me a bunch of his CD's about a year ago and I listened to five of the fifteen on and off since Brogurt was born. He said good things.  I felt good things when I listened.  I recognized what he said as truth and how he presented it as.... basically as an injection of truth.  Meaning I didn't have to sift much to find the message.  He is point blank.  I like that. 

In my recent turnaround (from foolish to wise), my heart has been awakened to it's closed off state.  And it feels very much like it sounds.  Imagine waking from a fitful sleep to find yourself wound up tightly - almost suffocating - in the blanket you had chosen to ensure your warmth, saftey and comfort.  What was once the obvious choice for your survival is now a different and immediate danger to your very life.

Scary doesn't really do it justice.  I have spent more than three days in the last week sobbing so forcefully that I had to get a chiropractic adjustment to correct the strain on my neck and shoulders. 

Long story short:  I was in pain.  And I felt led to Kirk's Heart of Gold thing in SLC. The closer I got to SLC, I noticed physical pain increasing like a dramatic pressure change.  I even mentioned how similar it felt to the times we went up or down 2,500 ft in 5 minutes at Lake Tahoe.  My neck hurt, all my muscles ached, I felt like I couldn't stretch enough. I kept popping my knuckles and my neck. The pressure!  I was being crushed....

And never once did I consider turning back home.  The physical pain had nothing on the aching in my heart. 

Let me be clear:  I fully intended to be "fixed."  To have Kirk look down in the crowd, see me and say, "Holy cow, woman, let's get you up here cause I can see you got a whole lotta something nasty happening inside!"  I was ready to explore, discover and heal myself in front of I didn't care how many people.  They could learn from my stupid baggage!  I was ready to be their horribly damaged instrument for learning.  The cadaver for medical science, if you will.  I was ready for that. I was open to it.  I was begging for it.

But that's not what happened. The place was packed.  Easily over 300 people in this huge room.  There was a center and two side sections.  I sat in the middle of the side section with my back up against this huge white cement pole.  I felt safe there and I hoped I would be seen there.

First a woman shared her experience reading her son's body language and using that insight to "save him 30 years of therapy in that very moment!"  She called herself a Ninja.  Everyone around me seemed to get the reference and chuckled knowingly.  I felt more alone and cut off.  But that's okay.  As soon as Kirk came out, he'd see me because I needed to be seen. 

Kirk did come out, walking up to the stage with humble confidence.  He began his....stuff....not a lecture, not really a seminar.  He started sharing stuff.  He talked about a goldfish named Larry.  He reminded us that he was "unplugged" and "after hours."  This was meant to be a spiritual discussion.  Well that worked for me, because I was spiritually messed up and my messed up spirit was just screaming to be fixed.  Bring it on.

Then he talked about Heaven, Earth and Creation vs. Creating.  It was during this part that it seemed to me (because it's all about me) that Kirk looked over at me and .... well.... and I'm pretty positive his spirit understood my spirit.  I felt so sure that it happened that I was able to relax a little and start taking notes.  Surely now that his spirit knew how much pain I was in, things were about to get better.  He was gonna fix me.

He taught us about chains and flaxen cords.  How they're real.  I think everyone should listen to the CD's for yourself.  I don't want to over-share.  So what you have here is what I learned, not necessarily what he said:

* Creating is much more important than the creation.
* My building material is everything on earth or that which makes up earth/reality.
* I will not always be able to jive my creation with what I planned in my head.  And that's okay.  Because - see point 1 above.
* Evil spirits/Satan want to stop me from creating.
* Negative thoughts/beliefs are literal chains and ropes that evil spirits use to keep me from creating.
* When I choose to dwell on/in negativity I am literally giving them permission to use me as a puppet.
* Truth cuts the cords.  (like a sword)
* Identifying the thought/belief/spirit will remove their influence, but not the cord itself until I choose to shed it.
* I can take them off.
* I can have a different number of cords/chains for different areas of my life.  (for soccer, I might only have "not fast enough,"  "too tired,"  "sore," "embarrassed," - a few flaxen cords that holds me back or wear me out after a half hour of play.  But for writing I might have layers of chains  like "tired," "no time," "no focus," - dozens of others - and still carry a freaking millstone of "but what do I have to write about" that crushes my heart, shoulders and neck.)
* This tactic destroys me starting mentally, then emotionally, then physically and finally spiritually. If they came at me spiritually straight off, as they have in the past, I would easily spot them.  But come at me mentally, where for years I've been told "Well, we're human, everyone thinks like that sometimes; cut yourself a break," and I blame myself.  Well, that was NON helpful in the long run, I'll tell you what.
* and MORE!

As he was going on, and as I was taking notes, he brought people up to help him demonstrate a few things.  I didn't get the chance to go up, but knew that my moment was coming.  Because he had seen me.  Even a few times since then, he looked back to the crying woman in the green sweater and I knew he knew that I was in need of help.  He was going to fix me. 

Then came questions. 

And everyone asked the exact same question, but differently.  "How can I help others?"

And inside I'm thinking, "To hell with others, how do I help ME??!!"  As I'm listening to the answer, which was the same for each question, because each question was the same, a string of thoughts began to pace in my mind.  "He has to tell me.  He has to fix me.  I need an answer.  How do I fix me when I'm so overwhelmed?"  I wondered if it had to be a spiritual truth to cut the cords/remove the chains.  Could it be anything?  What if I had a number that kept changing?  I felt so overwhelmed.  Over and over.  I raised my hand, I tried to get his attention.... and my emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

He looked over and saw me.  I felt that jolt of recognition again and thought, "This is it!" but instead he said he was going to cut off questions because he had two more things to had to share before we left.  I wanted to scream!  How could anything else be as helpful as everyone getting to SEE someone as tied up as I was get completely freed before their very eyes?!  The injustice and disappointment began to overwhelm my mind, my voice, my hands. 

He stood up on stage.  He looked over at me again and began to draw two cups with people inside.  As experiences in a day fill up, sometimes we see that someone else's cup still has some room in it and we go dump on them so we can breathe again.  But then that person is drowning because we dumped on them.  Then he said,  "It is never okay to dump on another person.  If you feel -" and he wrote the word on the board in huge letters, "OVERWHELMED, then go unload on a tree."

What the....

Then he drew a big cup with a big person and a little cup with a litte person - a child - inside.  He showed us how even if we have only a little to dump, that little can drown a child because their cup is so much smaller than ours.  A woman behind me joined the chorus of "awwww"s with a "who would ever do that to a child?"

I wanted to turn around and tearfully scream, "What the hell do you know, lady?!"  That reaction brought tears fresh to my eyes.  I wanted to defend my tendency to dump on my children?!  I looked at that little stick figure drowning in a cup full of a parent's red emotions and saw Rivuleta's face.  I saw Lemur's big eyes wet with surprise and emotion that he didn't know how to deal with. 

And I was suddenly so very sorry.  I always thought it was my right to share my feelings.  But it's not.  Feelings - like money - are a tool of trade, for the benefit of all.  And if the person I want to trade with doesn't like what I am selling, I have no right to force it on them. 

Woah!  WAIT!  It hit me.  He wrote my word on the board.  The word I was screaming inside.  He heard it.  He addressed it. 

Uh.... But why, was he teaching THIS instead of what I wanted to learn?  Why didn't he just take me up there and fix me?!

He taught some more.  By the end, we were to shout "Freedom."  I tried.... but very little in way of voice or conviction came out.

And then it was over.  Come and gone so fast.

Dreampacker and I walked back to Frontrunner.  By now I was nauseated, dizzy, the headache I had been fighting all along had blossomed  into a migraine, and by the time we were halfway home I felt like I was collapsing in on myself, physically.  Everything hurt. 

By 2 am I was convinced I had the flu, with a fever, shakes and all the aforementioned yuckiness.

And then I had three dreams.  In the first, Kirk taught me how to deal with Lemur.  In the second, he taught me how to deal with Rivulet.  And in the third, I was re-taught the entire Heart of Gold; just me and six other people. I woke up confused that I could remember that I had the dreams, but not the specifics of what each contained.  I had only the confidence that I would know it when it was time to know it.... I know that sounds weird.  Oh - and I was fine.  Not sick, just a little residual head and muscle ache that went away as the day went on.

On the first day I stood in my bathroom and tried something.  I said to myself, "2+2=4.  Anything less true than that: I command you to leave." It felt like a big fur coat slipped off my shoulders. I literally stood up straighter and felt substantially lighter.  My brain clicked along like the brain I remember from two years ago...

In the afternoon, after a crazy productive day, I gave each returning child complete undivided attention and used tactics I am positive I was taught in my sleep, because I don't remember learning them before.  My children responded amazingly.  Rivulet and I communicated, and I taught her about cords and the spirits who pull the strings we give them. I helped Lemur with his homework without fuss and he said with surprise, "Wow,  you're really listening..." 

On the second day Rivulet wanted a dollar.  So I gave her the easiest job I could find that would also be worth more than a dollar to me.  She starts on it, and I begin work in the yard with help from Brogito.  She comes down the stairs, "Mom, is this enough?"

She has done 25% of the job.  "Nope.  Keep going."

She returns a few minutes later, "How about now?"

I look up and see no change at all, "Nope.  Keep going."

She sits on the front steps in a heap and begins to wail, "I can't do it!  It's too hard!  You gave me the hardest job!  It's not fair!  I can't do it!"

I comedically yell, "FLAXEN CORDS!" run to her and comedically begin to remove them from her arms, feet and neck. 

She looks up at me with blatant confusion and a hint of "mom has lost it" in her eyes.  "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Making it easier for you to finish your job.  Doesn't it feel better not to have all those negative chains weighing you down?"  I nod my head as she continues to stare at me, then go back to my work.

She remains on the stairs, her eyes clear......then she darkens again, "But I can't do it.  It's too hard.  I'm not strong.  I'm not good at things."

I  repeat the previous odd behavior.  She giggles this time, but then says, "Mom, I really can't.  I can't do anything.  I'm not strong."

And I say, "Who says you're not strong?"

She looks away. "Everyone."

"Oh no, River-bottom.  Not Dad.  Not Mom.  Not Lemur or Brogito or...I could list two dozen people who would never  say that.  Jesus would never say that."  I softly take her hands in my own.  Then I list for her all the hard things she has ever done.  And they are many and awesome.  Then I ask her again, "Who says you can't?  Jesus or Satan?"

"Satan."

"So who are you going to listen to?  Jesus who says you can because you are strong, or Satan who says you can't because he doesn't want you to know you're strong?"

"I don't know!" she wails. 

I can feel it's time to step back.  So I pat her on the head and say, "You think about it."

I go back to my work and hear the door slam.  Great.  She's given up. Well, I guess that's it: Kirk is a butt and all he's said is a load of garbage.  But then....

Then I hear the door slam again....River comes down the stairs and in 15 minutes she finishes the job.   No more whining, moaning, or doubts. 

And she didn't complain once the rest of the day.  Not once.

WHAAAAT???!!! 

Sunday.... I'm talking to a friend who is using jerky movements as she talks about a  bad situation.  I didn't feel it was appropriate to yell "FLAXEN CORDS!" and attack her, but I did take her by the hand and gently remove them.  Then I took her other hand and did it again, never breaking eye contact with her.  She didn't even ask what I was doing....  But soon thereafter she sighed and changed the subject and was smiling and laughing not 5 minutes later. 

This morning Lemur wakes up grumpy and disobedient.  I ask him what the problem is.  He looks down and I wait.  He looks up and sees me still waiting for his answer and he began to cry, putting his head on my chest.  I removed a cord from his neck as we sat there.  Then he looked up at me, sighed and finished getting ready for school.

Rivulet didn't want me to comb her hair.  She fell apart in the bathroom and I tried to talk her out of it.  I did the "FLAXEN CORDS!" on her, but she resisted.  Nothing seemed to work.  Then I asked her for a hug.  And then I removed one from her neck and she purred.  Then I started removing them from/massaging her hands as we talked about something else.  But she caught on and started laughing, "What are you doing, Mom?"

"Nothing....what are you doing?"

"You're making me lighter again so I can laugh, huh?"

"Maybe..."  And then she got ready for school.  No further fuss or bother.

In the end I was right:  I was led to Heart of Gold.  Kirk did look into my eyes and recognize the pain there. Kirk could help. But I was also wrong. I didn't need him to free me.  I could do it.  I could do it with the Savior.  And I needed to know how to help others because my children are getting dumped on and they are being tied.  And if any woman has ever been a warrior, it is me.  I free myself, and I give my kids breathing room until they are old enough to understand what they have to do for themselves. 

I feel good about that.  Overwhelmed is just one of a hundred or more flaxen cords, chains or strings I give to an evil spirit to keep me from creating.  Well not any more pal. 

I would feel it a disservice to this experience to close it with a conclusion.  Because this learning is not yet over, all the applications are not yet found, and my journey is no where near complete.

Applying "The Philosophy of Freedom" - Chapter 1

The difference between foolish and wise is the application of knowledge.  In an effort to overcome my previous foolishness, I seek to gain and apply knowledge.  To that point:

I've been reading Muad'Dib and Fedaykin's book (which is wonderful - you all would benefit from reading it, I testify with full faith; go buy a copy ASAP).  My Grandma picked it up while she was staying at my parent's house and also began to read it.  At first she just opened it up and started reading.  It didn't put her to sleep (good sign), and so she decided to start at the beginning.

She struggled with the first chapter so I tried to talk her through. 

"Grandma, as long as you accept and acknowledge that this," I motion to the world around us, "is reality and we are really here, then basically, you've got the Chapter 1.  But you have to accept that before you can 'get' the rest of the book."

She looked at me like I was crazy, "What else would I think?" she asked.

"Well, there are some people who don't believe we're really here," I explain, "so they argue that there aren't true consequences, our choices don't really matter, there is no truth and no real right and wrong."

"Who would think that?" she questioned in sarcastic disbelief.

"More people than you'd think."

Grandma was incredulous, which I found fascinating, because I had met more and more of these people in recent years.  I knew they were real.  "People know this is reality," she said dismissively.

"Do they?"  I ask her, becoming giddy with the chance to debate a point.

"Yes, of course they do.  How could they think differently," she asked, laughing at their stupidity.  "Why would they want to?!" 

"They believe that way because they prefer it," I say, and then - without really thinking it through - "Take me for example - "

"You know this is reality," she interjects.

"Do I?  It sure looks like I think eating cake and cookies and candy and 3 servings per meal will make me thin and healthy," I say, motioning to my ample form,  "Or at least it shows that I believe such behavior will somehow emotionaly protect or endear me to others when in fact it is doing the exact opposite."

Her face  becomes thoughtful, though the smirk is still there behind her eyes.

"I have chosen to live in a world where I hope that the natural laws of the universe don't apply,"I confess.  "A place where I will in no way - not physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually - be held accoutable for my actions,"

"And why would you do that?" she asks, almost all humor gone from her tone.

"Because it was what I wanted to do," I answer quietly.  I feel the pain of living contrary to natural laws of this very real existence.  "But there is right and wrong, isn't there Grandma?"

She nods.

"And how can I know that my fantasy world of sweets and consuming more than I burn isn't reality?"

Her eyes meet mine with that steely Michaelson power, "Because you're fat."

I smile.  "Yep.  The proof is in the pudding."  I realize I don't know exactly what that cliche means....but it seems apt nonetheless.  "If my ideas that I could eat like a bear and look like a dancer were true, it would be so."  She nodded.  "Chapter 1 is all about accepting observable, objective facts; identifying and then accepting the laws of nature.  Because if you don't, then even when you learn the truth, you won't apply it."

"Oh," she says softly.  She turns the book over in her hands, "This is a pretty good book then," she says.

"It has been for me," I say.

She turns her sage and penetrating gaze on me again, "So I see."  Then her tone lightens a little, "So if I accept that...." she struggles for the right words, which I offer to her:

"Existence exists, as they say."

"Yes, if I know that Existence exists....then I can go on to Chapter 2?"

I smile, "Sure Grandma."

There you have it:  if I, Sayyadina, accept that existence exists and that this world functions on natural laws (laws which, in my faith I recognize as being set in place and followed by my very loving Heavenly Father), then I can move on to the proverbial "Chapter 2."  And what is Chapter 2?

Well, in the book Chapter 2 is owning that "the number of people in your species does nothing to diminish the value of your life." and that "You exist to be happy."  Chapter 2 teaches me the formula for achieving my values, for  being happy.  It says that what I accepted in Chapter 1, gives me the freedom and thereby the responsibility to identify that which will make me happy and then do that. 

Emotionally, today I'm still on Chapter 1.  I get that this is real.  I know that my choices have led me here....and....wow.  That's all I can handle today. 

Shh, shh, shhh....Just let it happen.

Why hello there.  It has been a while. 

Too long have I relied on Facebook for my standard mode of wordy communication.  I gave up on the blog because I felt like no one was reading it.  And in the months that followed I have come to realize that I read it.  I go back over and over to re-live moments of "aha!" and "what the buckets?!"  I have been helped by myself.  So I will continue.  If anyone joins me, great.  But the point is that I join me.  As I quote at the top:  I am the meaning.

With that said, it may take a while for my brain to get going again.  I have left off my penchant for verbose-ness.  Seriously.  I went from one of those huge journals - filling at least a page a day - to a normal size journal....and not even completing a full HALF page.  I stopped Blogging. I have written a few things....and I will not downplay that accomplishment.  Still I can admit that the real problem with not writing is that it seems to testify that I am not really thinking. 

So.  What am I thinking?  I know that most of my thoughts are "baby," "children's happiness,"  "husband's book (which is awesome, btw)," "exersise," "don't eat so much," and "I wish it were rainy-er."  Ah....you see?  I have recently had a major epiphany and am not even thinking about it.  Truth to my claim! 

I will say it as best I can, though I know there are some who will dislike my word choices for being "harsh."  I say examine the evidence before you judge it. 

First:  I have fears.  They are valid and have proven to be substantial.  When compared with other people who have suffered "more" than I, they are small and one might be left to wonder, "Really?  That is what you are afraid of?!"  But still, they remain regardless of whether someone else judges them a meager offering.

Second: I have - over the course of many years, beginning in my senior year (I tend to call it "hell year") of High School - figuratively and in fact literally fed my fears.

It might be helpful to understanding to share these fears, as it SO directly relates to the overall breakthrough in understanding:

FEAR: I am afraid to be attractive; not because I think I will act on attention, but because I am afraid that other women will see me as a threat to their talents, their appearence, their self-image and to their husbands. I have tried.  Every time I felt like my attractiveness (awesomeness) was a threat in even the smallest way to a friend, I stepped up my eating.  I had to make it "safe" for them to be around me.  Because....

FEAR:  I am afraid of being un-needed, un-useful, abandoned, seen as "not worth it."   Being alone is not the issue:  being useless in the lives of those I love,  being an unsafe component in their lives - for me - is the issue. Because....

FEAR:  I am afraid of how great I will be if I can't temper all my goodness with , "but I'm fat."  Will anyone want to be my friend if I am a blazing standard of talent, intelligence, creativity, intuition, motherhood, wife-ish-ness, humor AND physical beauty?!  And I just realized how stupid that question is.  Which leads me to my largest fear, which is also the conclusion:

I have been stupid.  I have been acting stupid.  I have been RESISTING the truth:  I'm great.
I confused humility with fear and came up with....stupidity.  The stupidity putrified into stupid pride. 

I'm sorry for what my fears might say about my opinion of others.  Sincerely.  I didn't realize that I let my fears become judgement of others.  They began "harmless" enough.  I just wanted CeCe to relax and not see me as a threat to her relationship with my ex-boyfriend.  I just wanted Melanie and Jill and Stacy and Rachel to not be mad at me all the time.  I wanted Kirby to leave me alone and stop beating me down.  I wanted to be "safe" from rape in college. 

I wanted to protect myself. 

And have ended up doing the exact opposite. 

Fear does that. 

Fear makes one stupid/makes one act stupidly.  And by stupid I mean contrary to reality, natural laws (which are also eternal laws), and rational self-interest.  Rationally, eating 6-8 candy bars in a day, followed by 4 donuts and a 10pm snack of a stack of cookies doesn't help anyone.  But my fear said it would keep me relevant and unforgettable, it would make others safe to see themselves, it would - someday give me a badge of honor when I overcame it.

Wait.  That's the important one!

I wanted a "Badge of Honor."

Like when I'm directing a play and someone questions how I'm teaching them to enunciate and project and I can say, "Hey.  I've done theater for 21 years at *this and this theater*, I've been paid *this much* and toured with *this company* and learned from *this awesome theater professer*." and that is enough to convince them to listen to me long enough for them to see the proof of my direction.

I have a few more Badges, but don't need to go into them here.

I had "struggled" for so long, I became convinced that I must be fat for a good reason, and once I figured it out, then I could lose the weight.  Then I would have a valient badge of honor, some emotional hardship I overcame!  Look at me I overcame ChildHood Trauma!  Look at me I overcame a Thyroid Problem!  Look at me I overcame Abandonment Issues!

Unfortunately (see how twisted my mind had become) I didn't have any of those problems.  I had fears, and they were real and valid, but they weren't GOOD enough. Not one of them kept me fat on their own. I needed one that was good enough.  And "stupid" wasn't a "good" reason.  So I continued to resist losing weight. 

And there it is.  Did you know that resisting a thing gives it power?  I didn't.  Maybe I did, but couldn't see the application in my own life because I was still waiting for that one valient issue to rear it's head like a big slathering dragon so I could slay it and mount it's head on my wall. 

Turns out my Dragon was a multi-headed Hydra, with different poisons and dangers to each mouth.  Just like Hercules I tried cutting off each head to kill it.  But I never touched the heart. 

The heart wasn't a fear, it was the resistence to the fears.  I was fighting my own beauty so much that I was in fact FEEDING the fear to destroy it.  And that's stupid. 

In summation:  I have learned that all my fears are valid.  And I don't have a good, valient reason to stay fat. 

I guess I better let the fat go, then.  Just stop resisting losing weight.  Let it happen.  Stop resisting the magnitude of my Chelsea-ness, and let it happen.  Knowing that the people who have always found me attractive, will continue to see me as such; considering that my getting fat didn't stop them, getting thin won't make much difference either.  Because I attract great people.  My husband thinks the world of me, even when he sees me being stupid for reasons he can't even fathom.  My children think the world of me.   And I think the world of me.  Let's just let it happen.

It has been said that I don't know how to relax.  The rest of my life will be an exersise in relaxation and be-ing.  Because with all I have to give, I don't have the time to resist it anymore.  There is so much of me, and so much I can do with it. 

So as each fear - still valid - rears it's dangerous head to swallow me down, my new job is not to feed it, but to relax; I will soothe the heart of the beast.  The heart of the matter is that I am amazing and that's okay. 

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven."

Okay, Father.  I will.  :)

Okay, so It's been a while.  Here is an update fromWit's End.

The kids are doing well in school at the Montessori.  The like their teachers, their classmates and the work.  Lemur is reading up a storm and Rivulet has become quite the artist.  She's also doing much better with numbers.  She is quite the social butterfly.

And also, in or around October, Caleb entered an essay contest and his essay placed 2nd, winning him bragging rights and a check for a tidy sum.  So proud of him!

In early December the kids and I attended a Christmas party for my Dad's company.  We bowled, ate pizza, played in the arcade and sang karaoke.  SUPER FUN.  Below is Lemur rocking out.  He sang Ghostbusters. 

My brother, John, had gotten a job that took him to Pheonix while his wife and daughter hung around at home in Colorado which sounds awful.  The sivler lining was that I got to see much more of his wife and my neice.  I loved it.  This is them at Christmas.

About a month later, Brogurt is showing Tessa the ropes.  He kept trying to grab her large, beautiful cheeks.  So cute!

Here is my other neice, Lucy, as she and River helped take down the Christmas tree at my mom's house.  I think this was mid January....

Same day: My sweet sister Ariane with her adorable son, Jack.  Love this pic.

And I just love Emily and Tessa so much, here's another one of them.  Tessa resembles John as a baby.  But prettier.

Skip ahead to the end of February and Lemur's very first Pinwood Derby.  Yeah, that's my boy. 

His is the one closest to the camera, with an N+ symbol painted above the flames.  It was so fun! He placed 7th out of 21 boys.  Not too shabby.

Fast forward again to March and we find ourselves on our first trip to the Ogden Canyon Natural Hot Springs.  Great fun for all.  Even Brogurt was able to enjoy the bathtub-warm waters. 

Now we are to the end of March.  Brogurt has been aching to go outside and finally it is warm enough to enjoy the deck and newly accessible lawn.  He goes for a walk with Daddy. He's been crawling about a month - SO FAST.

Lemur doesn't have homework at the Montessori except for a monthly report where he can research  and give an oral report on anything that interests him.  His previous two were on Newton's first law of motion (Inertia), and Static Electricity. But in March the teacher gave a guideline: It had to be on a person, place or animal from North America.  Muad'Dib got the grand idea of doing a report on the Bonneville Salt Flats....because we thought it was relatively close.  Learning is fun.

So last Sunday we drove to the Salt Flats.  Below is Lemur batteling the wind.  And loving it.

And here he is marking the horizon, which was one of his talking points during the report.

And we couldn't help snapping a family picture.  For the record, Lemur is trying to catch wind in his shirt and Rivulet is water-bending.  I am doing Jazz hands and Muad'Dib is rocking the trophy-hold.  Brogurt is just trying to breathe in the wind.  I love our family.

He was much happier on the ground, until the sharp salt cut his little hands.  Didn't keep him from sucking down a little of the salt, though...

This picture is out of order, but it marks the fact that Uncle Pillbug was here with us through Thanksgiving and Christmas, a blessing I was quite grateful for.  Here he is at Gardner Village with his girlfriend (so sweet!) and Brogurt who loved them both.  Good times.

So that's what we've been up to in pictures.  Muad'Dib is working on his book with Fedaykin.  I am culturing the Brogurt and trying to be a good mother and wife.  I continue working for my Dad and my mom has gotten a job with Ogden School District. 

All is well.  We're still alive.  And tonight we will eat turkey burgers.  Yes, all is well.  

Jack Out of the Box

It has happened.  My sister has had a baby.  It's surreal.  Uh, I'll just tell the story:

AJ got the idea to make this brilliantly clever shirt just two days before she was set to have her baby.

 She and Scott had done numerous polls on his blog to choose the baby's name, and finally settled on Jack for three reasons: 1.  Jack Sparrow, 2.  Jack Skellington, and 3.  Jack Stevens (our grandfather; I'm guessing you know the other two.)  It was pretty funny. 

And Brogurt liked standing on his cousin. 

 Things were not progressing quite as naturally as one would like, so a week past AJ's due date, she checked into the hospital where they started her on drugs to hopefully induce labor.  Here she is at the beginning of the 12 hour process:  high spirited!

She had her iPod going with carefully chosen birthing songs, to which she sang between pushes.

 Then, at 9:38pm, Jack was born!  8lbs 13oz 21 inches long.  Look at all that hair!

I got to go in an see her just minutes after he was born.  It was incredible....

He was SO aware; eyes open, looking around and ready for bear...

 And looking a LOT like his big sister.

Hello, Jack!  It is I, your Auntie.....

(That's what AJ has always said to my kids.  It was so cool to get to say it to hers.)

And Proud Papa...

The Bredthauer Four.

  First family picture, the next day.  Lucy was just so excited to see Ariane. 

As I hear the story, when they called to check on her during labor she yelled into the phone,

"Baby Jack, come out so I can play with my Mom!" 

Ready or not, the day has come.

Ah yes, that time has come.  The time when the days get shorter and a little colder.  The time when leaves begin to think about falling.  The time when all little children go to school. 

Whether a Sayyadina is ready or not. 

My kids and I experienced a miracle, and they were pulled - months apart - in the lottery for the Montessori Academy in our area.  During our school travails last year, Muad' Dib and I had read a few books on home schooling and the Montessori Method.  We felt strongly that it would be an awesome fit for our children; particularly for Lemur.  And today he began.  Below are the pictures to mark the occasion.  This one really shows off my sweet son.  How can he be this old . . .?

Oh, and my Rivulet - my baby girl - began kindergarten.  Not only did she begin, she pranced jauntily into school sporting her "Ratatouille" backpack this morning without backward glance, only throwing a few words over her shoulder: "Love you too, Mom!"  Other children were crying, but there were no tears from my Squeaky Jean.  Her hair is in "dog ears."  She just wanted to be sure everyone knew they were not pig tails.

 Awwwww.  Together. 

 They had a fabulous first day, thank you for asking.  They both liked their teachers and found the other students to be kind.  They enjoyed the classroom setup and the fact that they had no homework, happy to have their own cubby or locker.  And Lemur has kept up on his reading all summer long, now being 3/4 of the way through the first book in The 13th Reality series (a 5th grade or above reading level).  And this from a boy whose teachers last year said he couldn't focus.  Bah.  Rivulet and Lemur are both entirely gung-ho about the whole thing.  I can't wait to see what happens next!

And, to assuage the stress and heartache a mother feels sending her babies into the world, at least I still have this at home to keep me company:

My great big serving of cultured Brogurt. 

And warm memories of moments like this.  I sure love my children!!!!!!!!

Searching for perspective in the dark, with a flashlight and both hands...

Today I expressed envy for a person who was able to go to a vocal lesson.  Yesterday I yearned aloud to play a particular role again.  Last week I lamented that I hadn't sung out loud - full voice - in months. 
Today someone told me that I am still young.  They told me that they did their best work after 33.  They told me I would have more chances. And I had to leave the room before they saw my tears....

I'm having a pretty big feeling. And when that happens, I tend to leak the feelings.  These leakages look like tears.  But Rivulet knows better.  She knows they are feelings that were too big for my insides. 

There are parts of me that just feel old.  They feel done.  I fear that I will never again sing full voice, let alone full voice on a stage.  And something inside of me paces like a caged animal: longing with creative blood lust to be let out.  I wish there was a way to satisfy both Sayyadina AND this inner animal, which is my voice.  I can't even sing in the car.  What's really silly is that I sang full voice just this past February.  I was pretty pregnant, and still totally ROCKED songs from "The Phantom of the Opera" to a room full of financial advisers who clamoured for more.

Yet...perhaps it is because with the birth of my wonderful and beloved son, I have added at least a two year and much more likely a four year wait onto a theatrical endeavor.  That would put me auditioning for roles at the age of 34. 

The fear inside me opens it's mouth wide and roars "Who will want you then?!  What good will you be?!  How could you compare or compete with the younger, thinner women who will vie for the same parts in the same theaters?!"  And my strength cowers under this barrage of doubt. 

Being as overweight as I am, I feel like a thief.  I steal playtime from my children, because I'm too tired or uncomfortable to play.  I steal a view from my husband, because I barely physically resemble the woman he married.  I steal years from my life by pushing my body beyond healthy limits.  And I rob myself of opportunities. 

People ask friends to join marathons.  They do not ask me.  People plan hikes.  They do not ask me.  People plan trips to water-parks and swimming pools and do not ask me.   People audition for plays, and no one even thinks of me anymore.  Although logic tells me the real reason is that they know I am anxiously engaged in raising my three incredible and well loved children, raw emotion finds another culprit.

When Brogurt was born, my doctor said to wait 3 months before beginning to exercise - at least anything beyond light housework or light yoga.  So I have tried to keep weight far from my mind.  Just be.  Enjoy.  Worry about it when I can do something about it, and not until then.

But it hurts NOW.  Shouldn't I worry about it when I feel it?  Last year was glorious because I was either succeeding on a diet or pregnant.  The weight worry was minimal.  But it has returned.  And I don't like it one little bit. 

I balance on the edge of a dangerous precipice: if I don't think about it, I remain complacent.  But over the years, thinking about it hasn't helped the situation either.  I cannot win. 

I have learned.  I would not trade the learning for all the world.  Perhaps now my faith is again wrestling with my fear.  Faith says that when I have learned all there is for me to learn, I will graduate, meaning leave that school of thought for another (in this metaphor, be able to lose weight). Fear says that this is all there is and I'd better get used to it.  It is from this stem that blooms the flower which now fragrances my soul with loss. 

Because if this is all I will ever be physically, I can only go downhill.  I will only get older and less capable of hauling this weight about.  I will only slow down, become more uncomfortable and less attractive.  I will only...

This is TheaterGeek talking.  This is the part of me that wants to stay in bed and cry when there is nothing wrong.  This is the me that is dying to express itself and feels stunted and stuffed into silence by either the inability to physically or creatively function or the time constraints motherhood places upon these endeavors:  such as with theater or writing.  My homemaker mothering self is thriving.  But my creative processes are another story.  And I am at a loss to fix it. 

Just survive, right?

Then someone had better tell me how to duct tape TheaterGeek and her chorus of doubting nay-sayers until the day arrives that I can edit, write, play, sing or teach. Full voice.  Somehow the half attempts hurt more than not doing anything at all.....

As we speak, I am sucking back tears, trying not to think the thoughts that are very powerfully muscling their way to the forefront of my mommy-centric mind. 

For tonight I have no solution.  And I just needed to write it.  I needed to remember that at age 30, and with the birth of a new child, I felt my days of creative sharing were over; thinking that no one would want to hear from me either by way of the written, spoken or sung word.  Because someday it's going to be REALLY funny that I ever believed it enough to write it down..... 

Yeah. I will laugh about this someday.  Probably someday soon.  Maybe even now. :)