Love is fragile.
Friendship can last a long, long time.
Sitting under the tree to solve your problems African style is as close to magic as it gets.
Nothing heals a wounded soul like an open listening heart.
You can skip to the front of the line, but it only really works out if you’ve already done your work.
Everybody needs kindness and respect and love.
The wisdom of someone who has suffered greatly is a kind light you can trust to show the way.
Most of the limitations you feel are (more often than not) a crisis of imagination.
Dreams can be treasure maps.
Even grownups need blankies sometimes.
Stories are powerful medicine.
Being cracked open is very, very painful but it is not without purpose.
This is never the end of your story.
The problem is not wanting too much; it is not having the courage to want enough.
Desire is a great teacher.
We each have the power to create new possibilities that have not existed before.
In acceptance lies peace. Thinking someone else is in charge of your happiness is sure and certain death.
You can’t learn something quickly or any faster to avoid pain.
The process is the master. Surrender now. Or as best as you can, while screaming.
Breathing into each moment really does help.
Thinking is highly overrated.
Music can be a mentor; movies can be gentle friends.
There’s a certain kind of love that does not let you go.
The sisterhood of friendship is like manna from heaven; it can make you new every morning.
Shame is a killer; kindness is the cure.
You can be okay without knowing.
It’s really good to believe in something, even if it’s how happy you feel standing in a quiet open field.
Being seen, truly seen, and loved just the same is what everyone on this green earth is hoping for, even if they act like they don’t care.
Real privilege is when you are invited to serve and you do it, even if it’s incredibly hard or annoying and not at all the picnic you had planned.
Your heart knows the way through the wilderness; the only thing to do is follow.
My friend Jen Lee came to see me on New Year’s Eve after I casually mentioned in an email how much I was wishing we could have a little New Year’s pow wow to really get our plans for 2009 off to a good start. Usually I’m the one hopping on a bus to New York to spend the day in coffees and little meetings in Manhattan before spending the night on Jen’s magical red sofa in Brooklyn. I couldn’t believe how touched I was that this time someone was taking a turn to come to me. I cleaned my house and tidied up with so much happiness in my heart.
Jen was a strange and rare gift to me. She came during a painful time and watched and waited while I pushed my way out of a cocoon of radical change and transformation. I’ve been there, too, to watch her take flight and claim her place in a powerful circle of wise and soulful women. These days we both hover over our respective creative stews, minding the fire, tasting now and then of the other’s pot to see what’s needed, what’s just right, what’s missing. I have come to count on Jen’s mindful eye and her sage wisdom. I have come to look forward to our long walks on city streets and quiet conversations as we map the terrain of the healer’s heart.
Recently we’ve been recording these conversations. Listening to them both delights and horrifies me–I love this public record of the way we are together and I feel shy to think of anyone listening. But at this beginning of the year, I thought you might like to hear what we have brewing. You might want to join us. You might want to record a creative conversation of your own.
I know you thought I was not writing on this blog for so many days in a row because I was upstairs in the tower thinking Deep Soulful Thoughts about The New Year and the very Serious and Meaningful things I would do to make the world a better place in 2009. But, no, no, my friends, I was actually walking around my house wearing this green scarf day and night and waiting for Fatou to come over so she can help me drape it around my head in various ways.
For example.
We’ll be sitting at the kitchen table talking and I’ll be suddenly distracted thinking about Fatou and how she covers her head, and then I’ll say, “Mama, can you show me how to do my scarf like that lovely way you do when you go to mosque?” And she’ll say, “Sure, mama, come here.” And then I let her make me at least look like a proper Muslim woman and we drink tea and talk like that for a little while with her stopping to laugh at me every ten minutes or so because I’m taking it all so serious. And then we go to my living room and lounge on the couch and she’ll rearrange her own scarf, but this time wrapping it around her head like a respectable African woman going to market, and I’ll say, “Mama, can you do mine like that, too?” And she’ll say, “Sure, mama. Come here,” and then I’ll sit on the couch thinking about how happy I am with my wild and unruly hair all tied up neatly like that and I’ll remember when I was ten and realized I had more hair than Marlo Thomas and wished it were okay to wear a turban like the sheiks in the movies. And right about then I start to get claustrophobic and I have to take the whole thing down and put my scarf back around my neck like a regular old American girl and then Fatou laughs some more and asks me, “Do you have any chocolate, Jennie?” And I say, “Yes, of course,” and then we go back to the kitchen where we started before I got all silly and stupid about this green scarf that really is my favorite color even if it’s not really my color if you know what I mean. And I tell myself I hope that when I’m really old, it will still be old lady fashion to fold your square scarf in a triangle and tie it neatly under your chin, because, that, my friends, would make me so, completely, deliriously happy.
In case you’re wondering now what this has to do with anything important at all on New Year’s Day, I’m thinking that while it would be wildly thrilling to lose twenty pounds this year or take a class or run a marathon or get organized or in short move my life one excruciating step closer to perfection, the things that are more likely to make me happy (and healthy and whole) are the incidental ones collected in tiny moments.
Like…
Walking in the creek in my new boots covered in hearts
Riding my bike to the grocery store
Taking hot baths
Eating exactly one square of dark chocolate every day
Writing little love letters from the Universe for strangers like you
Smokin’ and jokin’ with my soulbrothers on the streets of DC
Taking pictures of my kids
Letting truer words never spoken sink into my wide open heart
Saying hi to the tree in front of Carter’s school that I swear wants to hug me, her branches extend just so
Lighting candles
Singing for no reason
Washing my neglected hair
Being thankful for the miracle (and even the trauma) of finding Africa in my heart
Clipping my toe nails
Asking for ridiculous displays of affection from my children
Giving myself permission to at least try on mumus, my 70 year old self fashion statement of choice
Telling knock-knock jokes
Giving away my best secrets
Praying simple prayers addressed to all dieties, the Mother Mary, the sky, the trees, the good green earth
Reading poetry
Being with my pre-school BFFs
Talking on the phone
Drinking African tea
and yes, asking my wise and wonderful friends to indulge my need for a green scarf arranged various ways on my head
What soulful, silly thing will you do not for today or this month or this year or the rest of your life, but for this one tiny moment? What simple, ridiculous request is your wild unruly soul making right now to seduce the most true you?
i want to add that while i’m being playful in this post, i feel deeply respectful of the hijab
and envy the kind of devotion that makes that kind of practice possible.
This is Carter when he was a little boy, when he still had all his baby teeth, when he was too shy to let his tears out, before he had learned how to cry.
Now he is seven and he is finding words for his feelings. He knows how to say when something is off. He knows how to be curious when he has no idea what could possibly be wrong.
The other night we were having dinner with friends when we heard a horrible wail coming from upstairs. Carter was crying, and Dave and I both instinctively jumped from our seats to see what was going on. We found a very repentant Madeleine talking to Carter gently, our friend’s bewildered son and Carter nearly shrieking, saying over and over again, “I am NOT a baby.”
I wish I had a dollar for every time Carter cried his eyes out over being called a crybaby. The irony is too sweet. The best we can do is scoop him up in our arms and silently smile.
Since it was already way too late, I decided to take Carter home and put him to bed. The ride home sounded like this.
even if you are not perfect
even if you don’t know the answer
even if you are horribly confused
even if you can’t make anyone feel better
even if you don’t know how to make yourself well
even if you made a mistake
even if you don’t know how to be
even if you are ashamed
even if you are hopeless
even if you don’t quite fit in
even if you are scared
even if you are lonely
even if you shouldn’t be having such a hard time right now
even if you don’t think so
even if you haven’t found your place yet
even if you aren’t proud of yourself
even if no one has really seen you before
even if you don’t know what to do
even if you try too hard
even if you’re disappointed
even if you don’t really like yourself right now
even if you are beyond good advice
even if you don’t know how to cry
even if you think this post must be meant for someone other than you.
One warm, sunny afternoon on the Oregon Coast, when everyone was laughing and talking and telling their truest stories, I had a wave of sadness come over me and I knew I needed to go sit on the sand for a little time away from my dear friends. Walking towards that massive sea and endless blue sky, I had never felt more solitary in some ways or more alone in this particular part of my journey. I could feel that familiar rush of despair coming to me when the beauty of the place captured my heart. I sat down right there and let the water speak to me, and that blue sky, and I realized I could never be alone really, as long as I was walking on this earth. That the earth herself was holding me, making sure I had a place to land with every step I take.
I hope today you will look up into the sky and then all the way down to your feet. That is the earth you are standing on. She is holding you. She is sending you all the love she has in her heart. She is there for you. She will not let you go.
I’m in a strange little fog these last few days, trying to find myself in the family of things this Christmas.
Last night we had a very festive Hanukkah celebration with our neighbors Mark and Meryl and too many friends to crowd around a table and so many sweet, playful teenaged boys that my kids thought they’d hit the happiness jackpot. At one point, two of the boys picked up Madeleine and Carter like bayonets and did some kind of hysterical battle using the kids as weapons. I don’t know who was having more fun–the big boys or the little kids–but that laughter sounded so, so good.
I told Mark over latkes last night that this was just the thing I was missing so far this holiday–something festive, something celebratory. For all my decade long attempts to whip my own little family into some kind of giddy Christmas euphoria, everyone is fairly chill, relatively calm. No one has extraordinary demands for experiences or gifts and the kids have to think endlessly before they can make any kind of meaningful Christmas wish list. For this, I should be deeply thankful, I know, but I miss the hype and the fanfare of my own childhood. I miss everything being a big surprise.
My deep longing (and consequent disappointment) for a hyped up happy Christmas has been the source of deep contention for many years at my house, but this year I’m trying on the calm of a stress-free, truly peaceful Christmas. So far, so good. There’s no adrenaline rush, but there’s no fighting either. I feel a little adrift, but not completely lost. I’m letting go of my long cherished notion that without the rush of excitement, my kids will look unfavorably on their Christmas memories. I’m practicing just letting things be.
How is your holiday unfolding? What are you learning in the madness of it all about your lovely open heart?
Me and my friend Isabel loved how kind and generous your comment was and appreciated that you payed no attention to the prize when writing the comment. Joy filled our hearts when you said how great we were doing when it was beginning to feel like we were in this alone.
Madeleine
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Veronique,
You are right it only takes a woman man or child to go after what they are looking for.
Plus it all adds up just like math. 1+1=2. We all work together and become one. What you said meant a lot to every body but also to yourself to realize you care for others just as much as you care for yourself.
Good, good news in tiny bits and pieces coming to us regarding Odette’s girls and the future of this sweet family. Can’t say much more than to admit we’ve never been more hopeful or excited to see what happens next.
If you wanted to send a little holiday cheer to Odette’s family in Rwanda this season, here’s what’s on my wishlist:
Funds to finish the amazing little house that love built. More than five thousand handmade bricks are out drying in the sun as I type, and the best cement mason from the old days in Uganda is laying down a strong and lasting foundation on the sweetest bit of land you’ve ever seen. What’s needed now is money for lumber (all the wood is coming from the war-torn Congo, so prices fluctuate daily) and some strong iron sheets for the roof.
A little nest egg of school funds for Betty, the young woman who cares for Odette’s girls now while Innocent (who is still having some health issues but is world’s better from some half-decent medical care and his last round of medication) is back in the village with his mom, keeping an eye on the construction of the new home. In spite of the fact that Betty has been an orphan most of her life, she’s still managed to find a way to continue her junior high and high school education. I’d love to send her a little something to help her continue her school come spring.
A bike for Michel. Michel has been Grace’s faithful tutor this last six months, helping her learn how to read fluently and with good comprehension. Since Grace has missed so much school over the years due to various illnesses and is now close to 5′10″ at thirteen years old (someone got their daddy’s genes!), regular school feels daunting and very embarrassing. Can you imagine being 5′10″ and in third grade? By teaching her at home, Michel is saving us from the pressure of her wanting so badly to drop out.
New clothes for everyone. The girls have basically grown out of everything I brought in May and really need new things. We’ve explored sending clothes from here, but have concluded the most efficient way is to send money for Betty to shop for them in the local markets.
If you’re donating to Odette’s mom’s house and would like something to put under the tree, I have lovely little envelopes in little bronze pouches that have Esteria’s picture and a brief explanation of the project attached. If you’re willing to pay priority shipping, just let me know and I’ll drop one in the mail to you today.
As always, even five dollars is magic, truly. I never know what to say or how to express how much I love this community for being such serious superheroes when it comes to making a difference halfway across the world, but know that I love you all dearly and don’t know what I would do without you. And before I forget, here’s the giveaway part–I want to give a Lucy Bracelet to one person who donates today. Just leave a comment, saying you donated and I’ll have Madeleine pick a winner on Saturday morning.
Okay, right about now you’re ready to shoot yourself because it’s Christmas and everyone is supposed to be happy and you are supposed to be organized and finished already and some of you haven’t even really started yet and just the idea of maybe disappointing people with less than perfectly thoughtful presents is paralyzing you and you’re feeling selfish because all you really want to do is take a bath and crawl in bed and read a book and then take a nap and then wake up and make tea and get your paints out or your knitting or your scrapbook or your camera or your collage papers and that would be totally totally wrong right now because there’s not that many days left and you really should be thinking about others goddammit, what the hell is wrong with you? Enough already.
It’s totally futile for me to give you a pep talk now about the virtues of taking care of yourself and about everything working itself out by itself because you know that’s kind of bullshit, that this really isn’t the time or season for ridiculous things like balance or peace or calm. It’s the insanity season, the time of the year where you have to revisit your childhood and your unrealistic expectations and all the dysfunction you heap in fine doses on the heads of the people you love, the very people you would prefer not to torture, the ones whose faces you have superimposed on the Norman Rockwell paintings, but really, really, even though all that is true, it’s not too too late to do something good, to do something secretly good for yourself because if you don’t work this shit out, then January? oh my God, January will be bloody hell and no one needs that really–no one, especially you, after all this busyness, all this chaos, all this wrapping paper and what my friend Maureen calls the nuclear bomb of Christmas, going off in your living room where the swept floor and idyllic children are supposed to be.
No, it’s not too late, and it will be easy, really easy, you’ll just buy yourself one thing, one stupid thing and you’ll wrap it up and put it under the tree or have it delivered to arrive AFTER Christmas and you’ll tell your husband you have no idea where it came from that maybe you’ll put it in your gift drawer for someone’s random birthday later this year, but the someone special will be you and thank God, because you need it, you really, really need it and if there isn’t kindness in your heart for you, then we’re all in way more trouble than we realized.
Then be a big strong girl, dammit, and give yourself that one tiny thing. I’m not even kidding. It will not kill you, I promise. I promise. And if the thought of any of that doesn’t help, then this video will. It will, it will, it will. For sure.
I love you, invisible internet people, even when I’m tired and slap happy and ranting and silly. I’m not alone and you aren’t either. May the thought of that one magically appearing thing under the tree, your ace-in-the-hole ticket to Christmas morning happiness, keep your days merry and bright.
My name is Jen Lemen. I'm messy, hopeful,
enthusiastic and helplessly in love with the idea
that stories can change you and me forever.