Philosophically speaking, all you need is love, right? It's the most powerful, abiding, forgiving, all encompassing force we know. We start wars over it, fight for it or because of it, drag ourselves through hell for it, long for it, hate it, seek it, reflect on it, work it out, leave it behind, change with it, for it, and to keep it. We're elevated by it, crushed by it, humbled by it, terrified of it, have addictions to it (and all close facsimiles), have ideas about it, have feelings on it, are consumed by it, chase it, run from it, deny it, accept it, need it, and want it. It can move mountains, build bridges, cut all ties, bind all ties, and belongs to everyone in all it's variations. If you couldn't tell, I've been pondering the concept of "love" lately, with fascinating, thought provoking results. After all, love changes a lot from day to day, in every sense.
Every religion has a version o' what it means, how one "should" navigate it to successful end. Every person has their version or take on it (and they're all different), every living thing responds to it. There are a myriad of kinds/flavors/types. You can be "in love" with someone/thing, but that doesn't necessarily mean romantic love. Yet, when it IS romantic, you're required to be "in love" or it won't work. You can apparently fall "out of love" and no longer want someone/thing, but it's never as easy or accepted as "falling in love".
You can have "platonic" love, regarding another as a sister/brother/friend, but as soon as one of the involved parties develops anything MORE than that, it rarely carries over to both (by the nature of platonic love), but in reverse, can work.
The way a mother or father loves their child is of the purest sort (if you choose it to be), but when dealing with a significant other/lover that gave you that child, the patient, unconditional air can/often disappears, and gives way to a negative manipulation of semantics and small stuff-which in turn negatively effects the little bundle of joy-and how they themselves will know love.
Every artist is inspired by love, interpreting their version of what it is, at length and in depth, from the beginning of recorded history, the beginning of time, even. Art is often the most deferred-to expression of love (or any emotion), for presumably, it's universal incitement of visual, audio, tactile or cerebral, in an instant. But every piece is totally different in it's take on it all. Every politician has a stance on how to best demonstrate love to society (therefore leveling out society), but none can fully agree or comply to work together to show it when it's most crucial to do so. Which, is everyday.
We "love those shoes" or "love that recipe", placing such a powerful term on such trivial things, yet rarely say thanks for those commonplace things (gratitude being so integral a part of love and keeping the flow of it), so why use such a definite, infinite term for these details? Yet we do daily, without a moments pause.
True love exists and it never dies, at least even the most diversified of human beings can agree on that. When our-cherished-and at times taken for granted-specific "true love" happens to pass on/die/leave this plane of existence however, we grieve for them and that loss can shove us into the opposite of love-or indifference, hate equals passion, behind all venom and bile-even if temporarily. That arguably selfish ritual of grief can hinder other important love relationships in our lives, or even dissolve them if it gets taken too far. How does that honor their memory of what you and your love shared? It doesn't, but we feel we must.
Love is the most consistent motivator (even the other supposed true motivators money/sex are only by-products to attain love in some way ultimately, if you think about it), and truly the wisest mentor. Whether we yield it's teachings or not. Love is what we stem from, what our collective DNA is derived as a species. How wondrous, how mysterious, how vital, how exciting it is.
For months now, I've been privy to a wide spectrum of this mighty L word. Almost every shade I've ever known-and some brand new ones-have passed through my heart in flourishing intervals, leaving reformed understandings, the irrelevance of old wounds, and bright, shiny, hope behind. All of the above mentioned, is just the tip-toppiest-tip of the ice berg when it comes to the visceral IS of love. It's just thought put to words, not a feeling. I'll be damned if we don't try to verbalize and practical-ize such a broad element in our lives though, and won't ever stop, nor should we ever, perhaps. Perhaps we are just tirelessly curious to understand this behemoth of time, attention and focus, wanting to have a structure or a rule book so that our lives can be what we want, without the trial and error. Loves' true resonance, meaning and application is so jumbled and complicated. We all make it this way, not the other way around. We are all in LOVE with love for better or worse.
All the escalating musings I've heard about the "end of the world", the economic backlash, all the natural disasters that are interpreted as doom to those who deserve it, has only ever made me wonder where the Love is in those lives. If one looks around and doesn't feel compelled to be positive about it all-putting trust in the higher powers, the earth/universe, our fellow man-then one really ought not use the term "love" in relating to anything. That seems to be the resounding conclusion.
There are SO many quotes from a great many humans/entities that I use as a yardstick to my personal ever shifting application of love, but one in particular stands out in these times in my life, and in the world. It comes from a source that to name, might shift focus from the relevance of the message. So I leave you with it anonymously, to do what you will. But however/whomever/whatever you DO love...just let go. Get out of your own way, and keep letting it grow. Then maybe it won't be such a tumultuous volley back and forth, and we all win, in that case.
"...Love is not something you can do or something you can contrive. Love is something that you allow to have its movement through you and around you...This is not something you are aware of, for you have attached your vision to such a limited meaning of what Love is that you are caught in its unreality. You think Love is one body caring for another body...Love is not something that you do. In a state of Love, the one fact you are constantly and utterly aware of is that Love is something you are! And you cannot "are" something."
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
The SMD: Green Eyed Visitor
When multiple kids are requesting your attention, it's hard to pay mind to your own offspring sometimes. Every day of classroom time drives that one home, and upon a recent week long visit by friends from my home town in Wyoming, it was literally driven to our home. Logan being an only child, she struggles with time sharing-well, sharing in general, but we're constantly working on it-and above all, attention sharing. God love her, she puts the lousy in jealousy.
I waited an hour prior to the airport pick-up to even let her know of their forth coming visit. It's a shame she even knows the general time of year that major holidays and gift giving occasions occur, because it's the same scenario of, "How long 'til it's time? Mama! How long? THAT LONG!?!? But so...like...an hour...?" for DAYS/WEEKS on end until it really IS time. Upon hearing we would have a long time friend of mine and her three kiddos for a week (whom were some of her first friends), she was literally bouncing with excitement. After the obligatory "be a good hostess, best behavior and remember you're my number one" pep talk, she dashed off, curls flailing behind her, to draw them all a welcome picture. Hours, we've spent, discussing a playmate/pet/brother or sister for her. When she gets the chance to have one, it's always eagerly received, especially now that this particular bout will be on her turf. That always helps ease the pain, you'd think. Our jam packed agenda of (long awaited no less) Legoland, Disneyland, Chuck E. Cheese and then also beach and library to boot, didn't help her resolve, I'll grant her that. She was still enjoying herself, despite needing her own space and meltdowns to that effect. Then reality sets in.
By the third day, all the pent up "PAY ATTENTION TO ME ONLY!!!" came rushing out, and it was really upsetting for us both. It started when I fudged on the house rules a little. I let the other two girls slide off the side of the couch, flopping onto a pillow below, as they thought it was hilarious. Bending the rules on occasion is worth why we have them, I believe, and Logan knows I do it for her as the situation demands. None the less, she watched with a look of utter what-the-hell-mom-you-don't-let-me-do-that glaring on her face for a few minutes. She was also appreciative and kinda happy that the other two girls were giggling and having fun, though. She took a few turns herself, and then suggested it be my turn. She stood at my side and waited as I drew out the sliding off portion (for dramatic effect, naturally), then as soon as I made contact with the pillow, I guess it all geyser-ed out. She simultaneously laughed in a forced, high volume crazy person laugh, knocked off my hat and gouged at my eyes. She connected a pretty deep scratch right under my eye, and instinctively I pushed her off my face. I was so shocked at her behavior, I said on wavering breath, "LOGAN! I can't believe you just did that! On purpose! You really hurt my eye. Get in your room until you can apologize and be a nice girl!" I know she didn't even comprehend what she was doing/did, her automatic tears and embarrassment related that. She bellowed loudly and streaked to her room. The other two kiddos were as dumb founded as I was, wide eyed and mouths slack, looking back and forth between us and then at me, in amazement.
Logan may not be the most adjusted kid when it comes to "sibling rivalry", but she is good at listening to me when her emotions surprise her, thankfully. It took her all of a minute to come back out, fully repenting and apologetic for what she did. I took the opportunity to tell her-and the other two girls-that it's A-OK for me, her mom (an in essence their mom, as they have to share 2x over what Logan does) to have friends, to show affection and to spend time with other people. She's my number one, and she gets me (give or take) 89% of the time. There's no reason to be jealous, no reason to think I don't love her. I'm allowed, as she is, to have fun no matter how out of place it seems with others in the mix. The three listened, and really understood, I think. From then on out, I was more conscious of her feelings and attention meter, as she was of mine and theirs. Maybe she realized that she does have it good, only having to compete with others rarely, not daily. It was not for nothing, so it was worth it. Worth it, even as I cursed under my breath with every absent minded brush against the puffy red abrasion. Eye wounds are no joke, even if given by a kindergartner. Good to know.
After they said goodbye, and we reflected on an enjoyable but tiring week, I asked Logan if she missed the brood we had just bonded with. "No." she said pointedly and firmly. I knew that was a lie, as she tries to be brave and ignore messy emotion at all costs, this one. Then later that night as we cleaned-up before bed time, she said as authentically and casually as I've ever heard her say anything, "I miss Dom and Kenzie and Kaitlyn." as she picked up her stuffed animals and collected crayons. I'm proud of her for admitting it, and for letting herself be realistic about those fun little thorns in her side. I miss them too, but can't say I do of the green-eyed monster that left with them. But I do know, that if he never made a cameo, I wouldn't be doing my job too well. So I'll deal, and do my best to look at her most often, if not all the time.
I waited an hour prior to the airport pick-up to even let her know of their forth coming visit. It's a shame she even knows the general time of year that major holidays and gift giving occasions occur, because it's the same scenario of, "How long 'til it's time? Mama! How long? THAT LONG!?!? But so...like...an hour...?" for DAYS/WEEKS on end until it really IS time. Upon hearing we would have a long time friend of mine and her three kiddos for a week (whom were some of her first friends), she was literally bouncing with excitement. After the obligatory "be a good hostess, best behavior and remember you're my number one" pep talk, she dashed off, curls flailing behind her, to draw them all a welcome picture. Hours, we've spent, discussing a playmate/pet/brother or sister for her. When she gets the chance to have one, it's always eagerly received, especially now that this particular bout will be on her turf. That always helps ease the pain, you'd think. Our jam packed agenda of (long awaited no less) Legoland, Disneyland, Chuck E. Cheese and then also beach and library to boot, didn't help her resolve, I'll grant her that. She was still enjoying herself, despite needing her own space and meltdowns to that effect. Then reality sets in.
By the third day, all the pent up "PAY ATTENTION TO ME ONLY!!!" came rushing out, and it was really upsetting for us both. It started when I fudged on the house rules a little. I let the other two girls slide off the side of the couch, flopping onto a pillow below, as they thought it was hilarious. Bending the rules on occasion is worth why we have them, I believe, and Logan knows I do it for her as the situation demands. None the less, she watched with a look of utter what-the-hell-mom-you-don't-let-me-do-that glaring on her face for a few minutes. She was also appreciative and kinda happy that the other two girls were giggling and having fun, though. She took a few turns herself, and then suggested it be my turn. She stood at my side and waited as I drew out the sliding off portion (for dramatic effect, naturally), then as soon as I made contact with the pillow, I guess it all geyser-ed out. She simultaneously laughed in a forced, high volume crazy person laugh, knocked off my hat and gouged at my eyes. She connected a pretty deep scratch right under my eye, and instinctively I pushed her off my face. I was so shocked at her behavior, I said on wavering breath, "LOGAN! I can't believe you just did that! On purpose! You really hurt my eye. Get in your room until you can apologize and be a nice girl!" I know she didn't even comprehend what she was doing/did, her automatic tears and embarrassment related that. She bellowed loudly and streaked to her room. The other two kiddos were as dumb founded as I was, wide eyed and mouths slack, looking back and forth between us and then at me, in amazement.
Logan may not be the most adjusted kid when it comes to "sibling rivalry", but she is good at listening to me when her emotions surprise her, thankfully. It took her all of a minute to come back out, fully repenting and apologetic for what she did. I took the opportunity to tell her-and the other two girls-that it's A-OK for me, her mom (an in essence their mom, as they have to share 2x over what Logan does) to have friends, to show affection and to spend time with other people. She's my number one, and she gets me (give or take) 89% of the time. There's no reason to be jealous, no reason to think I don't love her. I'm allowed, as she is, to have fun no matter how out of place it seems with others in the mix. The three listened, and really understood, I think. From then on out, I was more conscious of her feelings and attention meter, as she was of mine and theirs. Maybe she realized that she does have it good, only having to compete with others rarely, not daily. It was not for nothing, so it was worth it. Worth it, even as I cursed under my breath with every absent minded brush against the puffy red abrasion. Eye wounds are no joke, even if given by a kindergartner. Good to know.
After they said goodbye, and we reflected on an enjoyable but tiring week, I asked Logan if she missed the brood we had just bonded with. "No." she said pointedly and firmly. I knew that was a lie, as she tries to be brave and ignore messy emotion at all costs, this one. Then later that night as we cleaned-up before bed time, she said as authentically and casually as I've ever heard her say anything, "I miss Dom and Kenzie and Kaitlyn." as she picked up her stuffed animals and collected crayons. I'm proud of her for admitting it, and for letting herself be realistic about those fun little thorns in her side. I miss them too, but can't say I do of the green-eyed monster that left with them. But I do know, that if he never made a cameo, I wouldn't be doing my job too well. So I'll deal, and do my best to look at her most often, if not all the time.
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