Change on the Menu

Change is on the menu.

I just need to order it.
Not just for an appetizer.
For all courses.

For the course of my life.

If anything. I need to be the chef in the kitchen:
making the change.

But similiar to food, I have never excelled in cooking.
So its a learnin as we go experience. Trial and error.

I feel there is an ingredient I rarely have used in my life.
It comes in a glass bottle and it is called Truth.

Stop Directing

I’ve seen this happen dozens of times.
It happens with my own child.

Child gets given a new toy. Adult helps get it out of the box. Adult starts puttings pieces together to make what it’s supposed to be.
Child is taken to a new place. The zoo let’s say. ” Let’s go this way to see the zebras!”.

By setting things up for our children, by pushing them to play with a toy the way that it is supposed to be played with, we are taking away their creativity. A moment where there personality can show, where the joy of seeing them make up what they want, exists.
Perhaps the child is interested in the fence. Who cares if you came to the zoo to see some sheep. The child has a desire to bend around wooden posts and it makes him happy.

There are many moments we lose out on simply because we unknownely push our knowledge onto our kids.

Let’s refrain from moulding their minds. Lets let them decide that the cracker wrapper is a blanket for their lego block, that wheels are pillows and hair elastics on the ground are the eyes of what’s underneath.

Stop directing and start seeing blooms of incredible creativity come into play.

Light

Slow dances that fly with moon dogs and speckled eggs that hover in hammocks of approval.Drops of sparkle that sing in slender beauty and warmth that rises on those songs.Oh it would be well, to step inside the place and extract a brightness.
A brightness that makes all horizons vertical.


And thats the flashlight of my world.

Wednesday Afternoons

The shingles of the cave slid to the ground on a Wednesday afternoon. Some say it was the warmth of the feathers inside, others say it was the dust from the ocean.

Once on ground, the shingles became roof for all the creatures that walked the soil.

Umbrellas were turned into super stars and the moons fell right out of the system and landed in the hands of the feather kids.

They peeled the moons and made lemon eyes. They sprinkled on dust and curled the ends with a wooden curling iron

and they were never ever wet again. 

Straight Nature Becomes Circle

There were pebbles that rolled right out of the system and sand that found its way to the soap plantations. Sparkles that fell out of trumpets into the eyes of the wild.

And all that lurched inside the motion, were full of loops and honey.

And the eagles soared in under the clouds and brushed alongside the leaves of all the gentle oaks. The tremours in the bark rolled down to the grasses where the ants of the kingdom lived. The paw prints of these insects rose to the hills that touched the sky,

and the circle was complete.

Mom, You Don’t Like My Choices

There is tension and pressure in the household. Mom can’t handle us being here. Probably because of my decisions. I’ve always had guy friends-a lot more than I have had girls. But I think it’s weird for her to know I’m hanging out with them now, or when I have them over. Specially ones she has not met before. We’ve been avoiding one another for three days.
She told me she can see that my brother and I have lives and that she should get one too. Guess what. She’s been saying that for four years.

On another side of things. I have to go about my friendships differently. To trod carefully. I don’t usually. I don’t think I am managing them well. They are managng me. Because I’m floundering.
Two ‘friends’ have already dropped off because I didn’t want to be with them. There is fear in that. If I tell everyone I don’t want to be with them, do they all drop off?
I am terrified of being alone even though I know I should feel it.

But my best friends marriage two and a half years after her divorce, has never made more sense.