Mama Mia

For most of my life, Mother's Day has been a sad day.  Seventeen years ago my mother slipped over to the next realm leaving me with sadness on this thoughtful yet commercial holiday.  For years I've worked the restaurant circuit and had to endure the giddy families taking their mom's out for a juicy steak.  Occasionally, they'd ask the lowly server about her mother, and I would kindly deflect the question.  She was supposed to be there.  She was supposed to bless me on my wedding day and hold my hand as I gave birth.  Instead these joyous events were shaded with hints of sadness.  Perhaps certain things always will be.  Sometimes your mom should just be there.

But I have come to understand how birth and death are inextricably linked.  The bringing of a baby into the world is that delicate moment - the brink.  It is truly the edge of the world and can sometimes end in sadness as well.  In Spanish it is called dar a luz - to give light.  How beautiful and fitting.  

July 11, 1994, the phone rang.  I went to tell my father.  Light flooding from the bedroom, he came out with a red face.  He said that he needed to talk to me and my sister.  Of course I understood.  We sat on her bed and gravely whispered what we already knew.  He came in and said two words - "She's gone."

But where two words can bring all the sadness of the end of a life spent together, they can also bring all the happiness and possibility this world can offer.

I screamed.  I groaned from the depths of my being.  I felt the burning ring of fire.  I grew and grew and grew 39 weeks of baby in my belly.  And then in that moment... with all the strength in my worn body, I gave light.  And all I could say was two words - "He's here! He's here!"

Like my mother before me and the millions of women before her, I stood at the edge of life and death.  Where one light was extinguished, another was illuminated.  Where a last breath sighed, another sputtered and cried into existence.  

I am the guardian.  I am the nurturer.  I am food and comfort.  I am as present as this life will allow.  Most of all... I am Mother.  And today is all about me.   

Photo by Amy Komar

    

Summer I can feel you...

Yesterday I went running outside for the first time in ages.  My off and on workouts over the years have usually been on a treadmill in an air-conditioned gym.  It felt good to have cool Alaskan spring wind hitting my face.  I didn't sweat because frankly I was cold, but it made me feel alive to breath fresh air.  Winters here are brutal.  For the obvious reasons of course, but also because air quality suffers.  A parking lot in December is toxic and makes me hold my breath for all the idling SUVs.  But man did that air feel and smell and taste good yesterday.  Breakup is in full swing, and the side of the road is a river of months long trash and grimy water.  I can feel it in my bones....it won't be long now.  The sun is already strong and long and feels so good on my ghostly skin.  I feel like I really deserve this summer.  It was such a long winter.  Our first real winter experience here in Alaska and with a new baby in tow makes for very long, dark days.  Manuel has never worked and schooled so much before and you could definitely say that I felt alone.  But it was also a defining few months for me.  All the down time napping with Ian in our king sized bed... reading and thinking.... Really has transformed me.

Not only am I ready to seize this summer but I feel ready to seize life.  Shortly after Ian's birth I finally felt ready to make changes that have been years in the making.  It is a process for sure, but January 2011 was one of those defining times - a moment of such clarity and inspiration and nervousness all at the same time.  How fast our son seems to be growing out of our grasp already!  And birth is inevitably transforming because it makes us aware of our own mortality.  His hands grow bigger and more mature every day while mine juxtaposed seem so wrinkled and worn.  I am coming full circle here at the close of my twenties.  I realize that  I have but one life to live and I better make it joyful and vibrant.  This has translated over the months to terms of health and intention, not necessarily in financial ambition or education or "accomplishments."  I once had a dream to "teach," but now I am realizing that our greatest teacher is life itself.  I now want to spend my days teaching my son how to live and love, and for me that is done by his side.

As for the specifics of our new lives we are on a mission to cleanse our bodies.  We are slowly bringing only whole, real food into our home.  We started with a pantry cleanse and realized just how much junk we had in our cabinets.  Now if what we purchase even has a label on it then it must contain few ingredients that are recognizable.  If you've ever gone down a similar road then you realize how life-changing that alone can be!  Our next step was the commitment to cleanse all non-edible toxins.  This really started last year with our commitment to cloth diapers but has expanded to everything else... from toothpaste to cleaning products.  It hasn't been easy, and we have a long way to go but it seems so worth it.  I've heard more than once that natural living is more expensive when it comes to organic produce and natural hygiene products.  That is absolutely true, but by making that commitment you are then forced to compromise on other things.  Local, grass-fed meat is definitely more expensive but isn't the point that Americans eat way too much anyway?  So our solution is to eat considerably less:  problem solved!

Perhaps even more importantly is the bottom line that you can't put a price tag on your health.  The modern "healthcare" system would disagree, but it's true.  You only get one shot at living and everything that we ingest and put on our bodies affects us.  I use to roll my eyes at the endless "Don't do ________. It causes cancer!" I didn't even stop rolling my eyes when I lost my own mother to cancer.  I really didn't stop rolling my eyes until I had Ian.  Then it all made sense.  Just because something is on the shelf in the grocery store or Walmart doesn't mean it's safe.  How often do we hear of drugs being pulled from the market because they literally kill people?  And that speaks nothing to the overall accumulation of toxins over a lifetime.  I guess I could go on for days about any number of things - the cancer industry, our "sick care," factory farms, sweat shop clothes, flouridated water, peak oil, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, blood diamonds, rampant consumerism..... on and on and on.  It is overwhelming.

We are doing our part.  I am waking up and taking the blinders off.  The "man" does exist.  He is our complacence.  Our inability to slow down and live with intention and awareness.  I will believe that we are at a turning point...that others are waking up.

I will go outside and feel the coming of summer.  I will breathe fresh air and be grateful for it.  I will recognize the good that is happening.

"Life is not merely being alive, but being well."

Marcus Valerius Martialis

Everybody's doing it...

Why does anybody blog?

I think it follows a simple formula:  One part information + One part inspiration + Dash narcissism = the average blog.  I guess I'm no different.  I don't have anything profound to say.  And I don't think my life is particularly interesting.  All I know is that sometimes at night my head spins with conversations that never happen.  I feel myself explaining to various people why I do things a certain way.  Or I just feel a surge of mildly creative energy.  The need to verbalize ideas or just get my thoughts out so I don't have to think about them anymore.

And so, after much deliberation I've decided to give this blogging a whirl.  Maybe through it I'll have a place to send people when I'm misunderstood.  Or when people ask me, "Why on Earth did you move to Alaska?"  Or, "Why are you sitting at home when you could be using your degree?"  These are all great questions, but I've found over the last few years that life answers don't come quickly.  Knowing is not always a good thing.  As I approach thirty this might appear to be a precarious place to be, but for me it's just fine.  I am learning and discovering and deciding who I am in my own time.

Naturally, the birth of my son five months ago was a transformative experience for me.  If you know me at all then you've probably heard me refer to the past year as a journey down a "rabbit hole" of discovery.  Everything is put into perspective when another person exists for whom you are completely responsible.  I find myself doing and saying things I never thought I would.  My love is not only limitless for this one little person but also brings to life so many possibilities.  In short, because I feel myself open up so much, great change seems so much easier.  The future is wide open.

I can't tell you what this blog will be about, but I have an inkling that it will be about my journey of self-discovery.  It might be funny.  It might be pensive.  It might be sad or joyful.  More than likely it will contain grammatical errors.  For the first time in my life I am not writing for a grade.  I am only writing for me.

"The tragedy of modern man is not that he knows less and less about the meaning of his own life, but that it bothers him less and less."     

- Vaclev Havel