Inspiring families to find their happy place.

Chasing Pink Skies

 

Let this year end with a vision of pink skies in our heads.

Let this year end with a feeling of awe that a sky can be so beautiful.

Let this year end looking up, Up, UP.

Let this year end with giggles as we sneak out in our barefeet to snap a photo as proof.

Let this year end with smiles so big.

Let this year end with amazement flashing on our faces.

Let this year end in gratitude of winter’s forceful quiet.

Let this year end with beauty in our hearts.

Let this year end with memories — good and bad — floating up to the clouds.

Let this year end with us chasing pink skies.

Chasing beauty. And more beauty. And more.

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Simple guide to Awake Living

We all want to have good days. We all strive for happy days, not sad ones. We all desire pleasure and smiles and goodness. We all just want to be seen and honored and respected.

And yet.

And yet we find ourselves wading neck deep in stacks and stacks of to-dos. Just one more thing and I’ll feel as if I’ve accomplished everything! Just one more. Just one more.

We never stop at just one. A lot like potato chips. Or, in my case, truffles.

But the way to stay happy is just to stay awake. Awake to the goodness. Awake, even, to the chaos.

Today could have been a rough morning. I swear my little girls called my name Mommy — for that is one of my names — every 5 seconds over the course of two hours. It was abnormally chaotic. Not a bad day, which we also have from time to time — just one of those days when you try to sweep the crumbs up from breakfast and every two sweeps, someone was tapping your shoulder saying, “Mommy …”

Surrender. Give in. Wake up. Tear up the lists. Throw the broom. Step over the crumbs. Quit trying so hard to be perfect. Give up aiming for perfection. Smile. Breathe. Laugh at the crazy. Be the crazy. Dance. Wiggle. Wear silly glasses.

Remember that these moments are just that, momentary. They are fleeting like thin, sparkling bubbles. They change shape at the blink of an eye. They disappear into thin air like a cloud of dust.

Awake at home, which I strive to be, means saying enough is enough of what I want to do or need to do and forces me to step away and live life to the fullest. Like building really terrible, falling down marble runs. Or being a terrible marshmallow sculpture builder. Motherhood isn’t perfect and neither am I.

Of course, I can say this because I’m writing for the second day in a row on winter break. I have time to stay awake, tackle the to-do list and also do a few things for just me. Most days I have zero minutes for anything other than what has to be done for others, including my boss, my staff at work, my husband and children and my community. Usually, my needs and desires are last on the list.

But, what I’ve learned is that the only real thing I have to do for myself is just Stay Awake.

I’m pretty sure that I have time for that. It’s not always the easiest thing to do. Or the sexiest — like writing a book. Or the most relaxing, like a bath.

But it’s always possible at every moment of every single day of my life. Even as a Mama.

The crumbs did get picked up. The rest of the house, however, is an utter mess.

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The benefits of a gratitude practice

Think Like A Tree

Soak up the sun

Affirm life’s magic

Be graceful in the wind

Stand tall after a storm

Feel refreshed after it rains

Grow strong without notice

Be prepared for each season

Provide shelter to strangers

Hang tough through a cold spell

Emerge renewed at the first signs of spring

Stay deeply rooted while reaching for the sky

Be still long enough to

hear your own leaves rustling.

~Karen I. Shragg

My gratitude journal began on January 1st as the first of many life changing techniques I discovered while reading that amazing book “Simple Abundance.” In the beginning, I truly struggled what to write, and often felt that I was writing the same things day after day. I berated myself for never having enough to be grateful for in life.

I kept writing, hoping that what the author said would be true: It would pay off in the end. More would come back to me if I was more grateful.

And then in mid May when my husband lost his job as a result of a merger I could have easily given up completely. It would have been easy to close it up, toss it to the back of the night stand and never fill it out again. I was that angry. It could have easily seemed as if there was no grace to find, no gratitude to offer.

I was angry at so many people at that time. We lost our security — as if the earth moved and the dirt crumbled beneath our feet, leaving us feeling unstable, uncertain. Never a good place to be. Never a good feeling. Never something I’d want anyone I love to deal with in their lifetime.

I could have given up that gratitude practice. At that point, to be honest, I wasn’t sure the gratitude concept was working.  We were spinning with devastation and worry about our place in our town, our place in our friendship circle, our place in the world.

Over the course of five months, we rewrote who our friends really were (they were the ones that checked in on us periodically, sent us job leads and asked how we were holding up). We rewrote what we wanted in life. We rewrote what it means to feel safe, secure and at peace in our hearts. We rewrote what living is about.

And, for me, I kept writing at least five things that I was thankful for in my life. Every day. Five more things. Then five more. Five and then five and then five.

Here’s what I learned from this gratitude practice:

  • When you experience such a loss, it might seem easier to just hate on everything. What came from the daily gratitude, however, was immense clarity. Life became about the ones who cared about us. I have released myself from those who I barely heard from, not even once.
  • While I did skip days here and there during that time, I kept writing each and every Grace into that little book with a little tree on the front that keeps me grounded. That keeps me still and centered. It’s almost like that little book has become a source of peace, a source of comfort.
  • What also happened during the past year is that I realized that I needed to reach out to others as I wished them to reach out to me. I loved Elissa Elliott’s post on this concept. In fact, I have now made it my mission to do simple acts of grace for others.
  • Now, nearly a year after it all began, some things have clearly started coming back to us.Gifts from strangers. Kindness in rare forms. A job. New friends. Perhaps we’re just more aware now of the little things that mean so much. Perhaps it’s a bit of karma. Perhaps giving is the one gift we all need in our lives.
  • And I can barely stop at 5 things now each night. I usually go beyond five. Maybe I’m just more aware. Maybe these gifts of gratitude were always here. Maybe they are new. Each one, though, is like a tiny snowflake — unique, different and precious.
  • That we do really have to think like a tree and listen to our own leaves rustling. And, perhaps more importantly, we have to listen carefully to the leaves of others rustling as well.

Listen.

In gratitude.

And Love.

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A toast to the dark and light

Today I want to honor the darkness that haunts my soul now and then as well as the lightness that floats to the top most hours of the day.

Today I want to honor the shadows that appear on certain days and the rays of sunshine that sparkle in the skies.

Today I surrender to the peace that flutters inside my heart as well as the eclipse of my emotions that takes over at times.

Today I gently hold my scared, nervous hands. And, at the same time, caress them for they are bold and fearless and reach for the goodness this world has to offer.

Today I lift my gaze to the sky, breathing in its shimmery wonder. And I bow my head in awe of the groundedness of the earth below me.

Today I weep for the many sadnesses that have come before me. And I laugh at the joy of what is yet to become me.

Today I close my eyes to the silent, black sky and go inward, deeper to a place of meaning and sacredness.

Today I open my soul to the amazing brightness that holds me in safety and in love. And lie down at the thought of my fears and worries and anxieties that keep me up at night.

Today I want for nothing for nothing more than already is can come out of the shortest, coldest day. And yet I want for everything, all the sure things in life before me like silly giggles, glowing candles, bare branches, twinkling red and green lights, magical, unexpected snow flakes, glowing embers in the fire, soft, fuzzy blankets, steaming hot cocoa with fluffy marshmallows and chocolate chips melting, cookies freshly baked from the oven, holding hands with the ones I love, warm hugs, sloppy kisses, believing in hope, visions of peace, honoring myself, gifts to give, and all the gratitude that can fill my heart.

This is my ode to winter, to 2011, to this time in my life. This is how I want to remember this year, a year of heartbreaks and let downs but also love, growth, strength, gifts of love and kindness of unsizable proportions. And remembering that it is perfectly fine to let go, to let go of people who do us wrong, to smile and nod and pretend that you don’t know someone that did you wrong, to give up people who you thought were friends and were not. It’s OK. And to put focus where it belongs. On family — the ones that show up all the time and never judge. On friends — new and old — that just support you. On dreams — making them, creating them, and helping them birth into the world in big, gigantic ways.

There’s too much goodness, too much sadness to hold it all in all the time. Life it is too short; we must feel every single moment as if it is our last — just as we must enjoy every moment, every breath, every fit of laughter rising up inside of us. This one precious moment is but ours to take hold and toss into the wind.

And just see what becomes of it.

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