Coming to Birth

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1955A picture of my mother, pregnant with me (seated, just left of center and staring straight into the camera), with 8 of her 10 sisters and a sister-in-law.  (Oh, wait — 7 sisters and one niece.) I don’t know where my older brother is (napping?) but he would be very close in age to the babies sitting nearby.

I had a dream last night in which I was some sort of spy and I went in search of my daughter. When I found her, it seemed that someone had gotten to her, had changed her mind about something essential, and my new task (this is where I woke up) was to find out what had happened to do this. Who had betrayed me?

I know from lots of journal work and reflection, and a recurring set of dreams about daughters, that when I dream about a daughter I am always dreaming about my creative self. Something is about to be born… Often, something wants to be born and I’ve been standing against the door, holding it shut and saying, “No.”

Usually the person who betrays me, is me. What if I got out of my own way? What if I said, “Yes”?

horse2

What if you said, “Yes”?

Happy Birthday to Me

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dr bethanyAfter doing laundry yesterday afternoon (climbing the steps several times) and attending daughter #3’s choir concert in the evening, I spent the night in agony. About two o’clock I finally succumbed to all the pain meds I had taken and fell asleep. This morning, predictably, I feel groggy and not much inclined to work on my manuscript. My husband generously suggests that this will be my most memorable birthday ever.

Honey? I hope not.

Instead of writing I have been obsessively checking my email. And I’ve been reading. Here’s Pema Chodron from Taking the Leap: 

“Of course, neither you nor I know what adversity might or might not be coming — either in our personal or collective experience. Things could get better or they could get worse. We could inherit a fortune, or we or those we love could get an incurable illness. We could move into the house we’ve always wanted, or the house we live in could burn down. We could experience perfect health, or overnight we could become disabled.” (45)

I checked with Louise Hay, You Can Heal Your Life, to see what she thinks about broken bones: “Rebelling against authority.” Hmm.

“Each one of us has a three-year-old child within us, and we often spend most of our time yelling at that kid in ourselves. Then we wonder why our lives don’t work.” (Hay, 28)

mom me eric

No more yelling today. Here’s to you, kid.

“What Do You Do?”

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I want to reblog this wonderful post found on FRIDAVILLE. “What Do You Do?”. Especially, please, please, click on the link to the poem by Charles Bukowski. Perhaps it will speak to you the way it spoke to me this morning.

Let me make it easier: Charles Bukowski, “The Laughing Heart”

 

Me and My Distal Fibula

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The universe has given me notice: Slow down or I will slow you down.  On Sunday, while at a retreat near Hood Canal, I slipped on a grassy hill and fell, twisting my ankle. I don’t see the orthopedic specialist until next week, but it is broken at least in one place and maybe more. I’m not supposed to put any weight on it at all, which seems, frankly, impossible, even confined to the house. I’ve been having a major pity-party over the whole drama. I am writing this post, however, to tell you the pity-party is over. This is an opportunity to sit in a chair with my feet up and read and write. What I love most in the world! Why would I not embrace it?

This is not a question just for me, or just for this moment in my life. Why do we avoid what we most desire? Why do we watch television and play on our cell-phones and eat too many chips or too many Hershey’s Kisses? Why don’t we instead of spending our time, invest our time in what we really, deep down, in our heart of hearts want most to achieve?

Steven Pressfield’s Writing Wednesday topic fits in nicely here. Embrace what you love, folks. That’s the only way.

Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab