Celebrating Mom

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When I was a little girl, my mother was “my world”. She did all the things you’d expect a Mom might do, like hold your hand, read you a story, fix meals, teach manners, dry tears, cheer you up and on. She loved to laugh. She loved to give. She loved life, and tried to worry only on Tuesdays.

She left this world much too soon – but she left gifts. Cherished, timeless words; gifts from the heart, mind and spirit. Her poetry was first published while still in her teens, later works appeared in several anthologies. Perhaps her greatest work was the collection of sonnets published in her book The Pine and The Power.

So on this day reserved for mothers, I’d like to share some of those words as I have in year’s past, in honor and life-giving celebration of mothers near and far, here or remembered. Happy Mother’s Day!

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God help our children to transcend the dark

And walk the earth with dignity and cheer;

God help them seek the mountains, persevere

The road that twists through thorn and tanglebark,

Ascending finally where eagles mark

Their point of vision. Help our children find

Two masters ~ one the spirit, one the mind ~

And rediscover constancy of heart.

Help us to find cathedrals in the skies,

A will to walk the long uncharted mile;

(The will to find in winter’s legacy

The ochre sands from which the lime trees rise!)

Help us to know the measure of the child ~

To live in time and in eternity.

© Carolyn Naught Saxton

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Outrageous Happiness #13: Bless Everything!

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That’s right. Bless everything. Every beautiful, craggy, uplifting, hurtful, thoughtful, ugly, sweet or sour thing. All of it.

What I’m saying is, don’t bless just the warm, fuzzy stuff and the openly good-hearted souls. Don’t reserve blessings only for the downtrodden. Shower them with blessings, yes! ~ but also send blessings to the grouchy, the crotchety, the rude, the ignorant. Don’t hold back.

Send a silent blessing to everyone you meet and every experience you encounter. Bless your broken down car. Bless your burnt toast. Bless your ex. Bless the ornery waitress, the loud neighbor, the nasty driver. Bless the hole in your socks. Bless the rainy day. Bless the mess. Bless each one.

Sure, sure, you may need to let off steam, (putting it mildly?) but don’t stoke the flames of anger with more anger. Remove yourself, become the observer and fuel the situation with blessings. Pour ’em on. Like a heavy rain. Like a rushing stream to thirsty horses. Like syrup on your pancakes or milk on your cereal. Shoot those invisible waves of light right out like arrows from a tight bow. Like a lighthouse beacon. Like pie in your face. Hammer to a nail. Straight on.

Just bless it.

You’ll feel better, and you never know…. they might too. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. It’s potent stuff.

“A blessing is a circle of light drawn around a person to protect, heal and strengthen.” – John O’Donohue

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How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

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A Few Words on Compassion

You may have seen Monica Lewinsky’s speech by now, recently presented at the Forbes Under 30 Summit. I remember well her being a target of some pretty vicious emotional attack. Depending on your age you will too. It was The Big Scandalous News. Can’t imagine the road she’s traveled back to some degree of “normalcy”, but I’m happy to see her turn it around, use her high profile to aim that experience towards something potentially good. And she does so very genuinely. My applause, Monica; big and loud applause.

And I hope she strikes a chord. She struck a chord with me ~ which is, quite frankly, what the hell is wrong with people? I’ve never understood “meanness”. I understand anger, and I understand wrongful things said and done, I even understand rage. I understand people have this incredibly wide range of emotions that run the gamut from joy to grief, love to hate, forgiveness to resentment, appreciation to bitterness, pride to shame. But unless you’ve got a mental illness as the root cause, being outright rude, being thoughtlessly and openly mean is incomprehensible to me.

I also understand that for some reason, kids in particular can be very mean to one another. There’ve always been mean kids, mean people, mean situations. Not that that’s “okay”, it just “is”. But the continuing rise in cyber-bullying brings all this to a whole new and deeply disturbing level, because it can be anonymous or feel “safely barricaded”. The culprits hawk their slurs behind the closed doors of digital gadgets and screen names – like a video game, it’s almost like it’s not real. But it’s real, alright, and I simply can’t get my head around this growing culture of “mean.” This sort of human indifference. The opposite of compassion.

(And it’s not just kids. Hello grown-ups. Hello news outlets. What’s wrong here? A need to be right? Feel powerful? Be the first to know? A mass gossip gene?)

In the old days it hurt well enough if someone picked on the fat kid, or the slow kid, or the geeky boy the clumsy girl. I’m not sure it if was a good or a bad thing to know who your taunter was, but maybe you had it out in the playground, or maybe you grew up to be a wild success and it no longer mattered. But you knew who to steer clear of. And more than likely, the person doing the damage knew it was wrong. I have to wonder, are we cultivating a society where right and wrong aren’t recognized? Who’s teaching what to whom these days?

Sticks and stones may hurt my bones but names will never hurt me. We were taught this growing up, and there’s truth there. But it can hurt, some people more than others, and while I think we need to develop self-esteem and thicker skins and not shrivel into a ball when someone is less than kind, those tools aren’t always built-in, they take time.

Think before you speak. Think before you act. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Pretty darn simple.

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A Plethora of P’s: #72 / Pioneer

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

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saxton.P_pioneerWhen I was little, we lived on 7 acres of land, much of which was rich, thick forest with babbling brooks and scampering deer and a million sounds ~ a virtual chorus of bird calls, rustling leaves, frogs and crickets chirping ~ surrounded by all shades of green under a canopy of blue high above the tallest trees. I loved taking it all in. And I liked imagining how I’d get back if I wandered too far. Of course, I knew I’d find my way by remembering this particularly shaped boulder alongside that creek, or twin fallen logs a few feet from the fence ~ but it was the idea of the adventure. And I was an explorer, a pioneer!

Sometimes I pretended I was Lewis or Clark on a special expedition, discovering new lands, befriending Indians, looking for food, calming wild animals, dodging peril! Or I might have been Rebecca Boone, minding the homestead while Daniel was out doing good deeds on the frontier. Maybe I was Daniel on a mission with Mingo. Never knowing what would come next, if I’d get lost, how I’d survive, if anyone would hear me. This was exciting stuff.

But I realize now that being a pioneer doesn’t necessarily mean you’re navigating foreign lands, or inventing the next transistor radio or happening upon a never-seen-before animal on the Galápagos ~ or landing on Mars, for that matter. It can be as simple as adding some wild to your thought process, a little crazy and untamed. “Out of the box” as they say.

We can all be pioneering. We can walk the unbeaten path. (And there we might even find very cool things like this P-shaped branch!) We can chart a new course. See what’s around the next bend. Seek adventure. Write a new song. Open a new door. Inquire. Inspire. Lead. Teach. Dream a new dream.

We can delight in discovery. Big, small, personal or worldly ~ there’s always more to see than meets the eye, always more to learn than what we’ve been taught.

Life is the adventure, and not one of us has seen or done it all. There’s always more treasure to find, whether within ourselves, down the block or in the great out there. And I, for one, hope to never lose that sense of excitement from stepping now and then, even gingerly, into unknown territory.

(see our ongoing Plethora of P’s here)

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A Light Passes

It’s hard to know what to say, but hard, too, to say nothing about the passing of one of the world’s brightest lights in performance. I pray you find peace, Robin Williams.

You, who lifted the hearts of millions with your incredibly sharp wit ~  a brand of humor clearly fueled by great intelligence and sensitivity ~ you were brilliant. Absolutely, remarkably, shiny brilliant. And we are so very, very sad to see you go. It feels somehow cruel and wrong, for one who gave so much.

Thank you for having graced us. May you rest in the arms of angels. robinwilliams

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A Plethora of P’s: #71 / Portals

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

saxton.P_portalsThere are moments  ~ sometimes big and unmistakable, sometimes just pinpoints in time ~ where we step through a portal from one world into another; from old to new, from shadow to light, from closed to open, from veiled to aware, from childhood to maturity.

Passages are inevitable. Still, we sometimes have the choice to walk through or stay behind, and we have minds and hearts to guide us towards those that are good and right and to turn away from those that are not.

And so, whether figuratively or literally, for the better or even the temporarily or seemingly worse, we find keys, turn knobs, open doors, step through. With little outward fanfare, and often imperceptibly, we learn, we grow, and are forever changed. And our experience here becomes all the richer.

 

(see our ongoing Plethora of P’s here)

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Things My Father Taught Me

How to change a tire. How to balance a checkbook. How to pack a suitcase efficiently.  That at one time a slide rule could solve almost any homework problem.

He taught me that weeds are best pulled close to the ground when the soil is damp and the moon is waning. Almost anything can be recycled and remade. Material things are overrated. Contribute something positive. Try to leave the world a better place for your having been there. Nothing is more meaningful than family and nothing more beautiful than the earth.

My father showed me practicality, patience and perseverance. He showed me modesty and humility. Loyalty. Honesty. Standing up for what you believe in.

He gave me his long legs and his sensible disposition. He gave me a weakness for potatoes, and all things fresh from the garden. He did not, however, give me his creative math genius, nor his pension for saving old nails ~ but I’m pretty sure if you looked in the dictionary for the meaning of the word “integrity”, you’d find his name. And for that alone I am eternally grateful.

Here’s to all the fathers who teach even half of this stuff. You are more important than you may know.

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Earthly Pursuits

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Thank heavens there are people like my really smart nephew with a passion for math and statistics; for people who strive to climb Mt. Everest and people who want to be dentists or race-car drivers. I’d be awful at these things (among others) and quite frankly, am grateful someone else has these bases covered.

When you get right down to it, we’re all creative beings. We’re in a constant state of creation, our atoms and molecules and who knows what other sub-this-or-that particles in perpetual motion. What we do with all that varies, of course, from person to person, just as it varies from flower to flower, bird to bird, bug to little bug. Even a winter tree, barren and cold, is feverishly feeding its roots, growing beneath the ground; each tree uniquely carrying out its creative urge. So there’s all this activity going on, a momentum of endless, ever-evolving, ingenious energy, all the time, day and night, year after year.

Okay, I’ve tired myself out thinking about all that! But, hold on, the good news is I don’t need to go any deeper with it; even if I could, I don’t need to fathom the inner workings of this amazing swirl of life we’re part of. All I have to do is my part. And you, yours.

And more good news – we can choose what we want that part to be. And within those options ~ a whole giant vat of them ~ there’s a leaning, a desire, a knack for certain things more than others. And I would venture that those leanings show up unbidden, no matter where we live or under what circumstances ~ our inner callings will find a way to emerge, and they usually show up when we’re little kids. We arrive in this world pre-packaged with a personal set of affinities. And they never leave.

But then we travel life’s twisting roads, and for one reason or another, may un-do some of those natural tendencies. Some are fortunate to retain the connection, some get lost. Maybe it’s strife, maybe it’s what we think others think we should do; a million detours and distractions, a million at-the-time good reasons that lead one away from that core, that essence. But it’s still there ~ I’m certain of it ~ and it’s never too late (or too soon) to revitalize.

If you’re wondering what that calling is, or if you even have one, ask “what lights you up?” Then tap in and get on with it!

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Breakthroughs

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Breakthroughs. Aren’t they great? Like clouds parting, the sun bursting through, we see with refreshing clarity, we understand what had been elusive, we discover something previously hidden, we step forward with renewed vision and vigor. The mire behind us. The mountain climbed! Ideas tumble crisp and clean. Insight sharp and heightened. Pieces fit with remarkable satisfaction.

Defined as “an act or instance of removing or surpassing an obstruction or restriction; the overcoming of a stalemate”, breakthroughs are typically associated with things like science and engineering, technology, negotiations and diplomacy, war and peace.

Einstein comes to mind. Thomas Edison, Marie Curie, Benjamin Franklin, Henry Ford, Jane Goodall, Amelia Earhart, Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Walt Disney, Galileo Galilei, Alexander Flemming, Leonardo DaVinci, Charles Darwin, Isaac Newton, Mahatma Ghandi, Margaret Mead, … the list goes on. They’re all pioneers, masters of discovery and exploration who achieved life-changing breakthroughs.

But what of us mere mortals who haven’t found our way into the history books? Our “instances of surpassing an obstruction” are just as valid, even though on a personal level (which, of course, is where they all begin…). Our breakthroughs may not change the world; just ourselves ~ our way of thinking, our way of producing, our direction, our relationships, our world.

Yet as we break our barriers, we affect the world immediately around us, whether we know it or not!

That said, I can recall several breakthroughs in my artistic life, and it never occurred to me that anyone might be impacted but me, myself and I. And for the most part, I still hold onto that belief.

But, as any of us become more confident, or satisfied, or spiritually or skillfully elevated, it changes us ~ and that change is bound to show, in some way, in our outward demeanor, in our actions and behaviors, impacting those around us if only by sheer interaction. How much or little, we may never know, but it’s there.

In any event …  my own first memorable breakthrough came in first grade when swarmed by classmates asking me to draw pictures for them. Most requested, next to a clown, was a drawing I did of a girl’s face whose main attraction seemed to be her swirly-whirly hair-do. This was very neat stuff.

Later, at the ripe old age of 9, I entered a national poster contest. I remember working very hard on my drawing of a fawn, which I’d chosen to represent the prescribed theme of protecting our environment, and I remember my total surprise at winning, and I remember feeling really proud.

After that, while going about the business of regular growing up stuff, I basically honed my craft for a long time, enjoying the steps of refinement along the way.

It wasn’t until my early twenties when perhaps my biggest artistic breakthrough arrived ~ in the form of a self-portrait. This one caused great alarm among family members who were used to my straight-forward, more realistic pieces. They didn’t like it. At all. But I was ecstatic! It was a huge moment. Unforced, un-fussed over, and oh-so-liberating. It was no longer just skill, it was skill + expression; for me, a wide river crossed. And without a conscious intent beyond “doing a self-portrait because that’s what artists do”, the result was a near perfect expression of all that pent-up creativity rising colorfully to the surface.

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Since then, more new doors have popped open in the ever-evolving landscape of creative expression. More breakthroughs, some minor, some major, sprinkled like fairy dust along a path set in motion long ago, a seemingly natural course of events ~ with its own timing in place, I might add! You can even start to feel them coming after a while ~ in fact, I’m sensing one coming up here real soon…… so stay tuned!

But enough about me ~ you’ve surely experienced some of your own. Maybe after a long, deliberate, concentrated effort. Maybe they seemed to form out of thin air, when you were focused elsewhere. Your breakthroughs might be far and few between, or bunched together, firing away one right after another. But however they show up, come they will. They’re a culmination of your experience, and they help shape your future, your choices, and your way of being.

And when the moment arrives, it’s a notable shift. A mark of progress. Light and bright and “yessssss!”

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The Gift of Maya

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I cried today. I’m not a particularly weepy person, but tears came unbidden and I thought, how odd ~ to not just feel sadness but to actually cry at the loss of someone I never knew.

Yes, I admired Maya Angelou ~ very much. Her words rang with truth. Her wisdom rich, humble, freeing. Her voice strong, her heart rugged and full of light. Her journey brave. She inspired countless lives. She was beautiful and completely remarkable. But when did it become so personal for me?

I think it may have been that as the daughter of a poet, and an unsung poet myself, I felt a kind of kinship. A sisterhood of prose. A “she’s one of us” feeling. I remember when I heard her speak in front of all the world, I imagined my mother applauding from heaven to see a modern day poet make such a profound mark in our world. I applauded right along. She did it. Ms. Angelou sang her song out loud and the world listened! I beamed for her ~ and I suppose I also beamed in that moment for poetry.

Famous people live for a time, larger than life it seems; through them we feel things, we learn things, sometimes deeply, sometimes in passing. And then they die, just like the rest of us. Flesh and bones, blood and breath.

But occasionally their presence is eternal. Injecting itself into our lives for untold generations. I imagine Maya Angelou’s spirit falling in that category. She was a gift to us all; her brilliance here to cherish and embrace as long as we so desire.

As much of the world mourns and honors this amazing lady, and as heaven welcomes a new angel, I send out my simple thank you, Maya, for touching my heart.

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thrivingiselegant

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