Dance, Dance, Wherever You May Be

 

 

Life is so lacklustre if we do not have joy in it.  It can be just one foot in front of the other and the less joy you feel, the more ‘less joy’ you feel.  A numbed life is not a life.  How do we kick it up a notch or two?

Go for a walk, but do not walk unintentionally… walk with intention of noticing the small things in nature.

Dedicate one good thing to do for another perron each day.  It could be a phone call, a text, a sharing of something you have made, a recipe, a funny gif, a simple good morning. 

Do something that lifts your spirit.  It might be as simple as light

Light a candle, some smudge or incense.  Find a link to a spirituality without religion and see where that takes you. 

Watch a ‘how to’ tutorial on Youtube that is about motivational speaker.

Do something that gives you pleasure.  Take a bubble bath…light candles, light some incense… turn off the lights, and simply be.

Make it a mission for one hour to find ‘good’ things in your life.

Make a Joy List.  Write down everything you can think of, in your life, that has brought you joy.

Joy is an emotion we cultivate.  We decide on the depth and the spacing of joy.  No one can make you feel anything you do not want to feel.  So, decide to feel joy.

How is joy different than happiness?  Take some time to clarify that. Do an art journal page about your finding(s).

©Carol Desjarlais 4.30.23

My Peace Has Birds That Sing In My Head

 

 

There Was A Woman With Birds

there was a woman with birds

in her forest, in her house, on her shoulders

she learned the language of crows

sparrows and swallows

and spoke in tongues of hummingbirds

 

in her room was a bird in a cage

who ground his beak on a cuttlebone

she drew in gesso and garnished with mica

and the bird knew her

and she knew the bird

and the bird taught her to sing

 

out in a great pine was a dove

who taught her the sounds of mourning

and she sorrowed at sounds that wound

through her trellis and through her open window

and curled in her hair over night

 

an owl who should have been wise enough

to know who she was

questioned her incessantly

until she revealed her old name

that came from gullies and great hills

and mountains that had whispered it to her

 

there was a woman with birds in her hair

where small wings could be hidden

by tucking them under a curl or chignon

or wrapped into a baby blond ringlet

 

this woman had a swan on her back

who drew its great wings around her

when she was found

alone as a chick in a nest overnight

and her mouth drawn to an O

of despair at a thousand thousand tortures

of memories of foxes and wolves

and things that look for downed things in the dark

 

a woman with birds knows every intonation

in old stories of old women and old birds

who fall and who rise and songs that go with it

for in one lifetime she was a bird with women

in her forest, in her house, on her shoulders…….

 

©Carol Desjarlais 2.22.12

 

Mothering and Daughtering

 

 

 

There is a special bond, another kind of bond, like a 6^th sense thing mother’s have, with a daughter.  It is a unique and irreplaceable bond.   

***Caveat:  Some mother-daughter relationships cannot, or should not, be accepted, nor forgiven,  I am not talking about those kinds, or the PERECT mother-daughter relationship.  I am talking about an everyday ordinary mother daughter relationship.

I have that kind of relationship with my ShirRae.  Since she moved out of home, she has called me every three days without fail all these decades. There has never been drama or conflict between us.  She, like I, have a few friends ‘in the real’ that we have had all our lives.  They are deep and significant ones.  I was never aware that a mother-daughter relationship shaped the relationships we would have throughout our lives.  We managed to stumble and bumble through, knowing about boundaries and having a strong commitment to honor those relationships with respect for differences and similarities. 

I was a mother who allowed my children to know what was acceptable through my own modeling.  Of course, they also knew I was human with frailties and I never pushed them, nor was I a helicopter mother.  They were free to explore their childhood and teen years but knew what actions and behaviors were right for us as a family and that how we act reflects on family.  It has made my children very close.  And, as I said, I taught them what things do not work, of course.  They learned to take time out and reflect on how they could ‘show’ they were sorry not just throw out words like, “Sorry”.  I might add, I was a much better mother to my younger four than I was to my older three.  I single-parented my four younger ones and I was not under any duress, so I was consciously able to focus in on them as I completed University and began my career.  I was healthier and happier and so they were raised under that kind of mothering. 

Another successful thing I stumbled upon, was having an ‘amnesty’ night once a week.  We all climbed on my bed and we debriefed about our week.  As well, they got to say anything, without chance of punishment (grounding really hurt their feelings and, btw, I never hit my children although my mother said they were going to be spoiled rotten.  Happens they were/are not as they are all successful adults and parents themselves.) When they grew up, they said that sometimes they made up things just to be able to say they got away with something.  Our amnesty conversations started to include their teenaged friends, as well because they wanted to experience it.  There were times we had some serious talks during that time.  One girl was going to have an abortion, at fourteen, and she and m daughter wanted my opinion.  I gave pros and cons and was told that the girl did not have to tell her mother, legally.  I was shocked at that.  Boy that was a tough one but one she went through with, anyways, with complications.   I contacted the mother and we a conversation that no mothers would want to have, but one we had a choice in stepping up and making the right decision for the right young girl.

 I watch my daughter have the same kind of relationship with my granddaughter, only my daughter improved mothering.  My granddaughter is being raised by a village of good women, women who are grandmothers, mothers, aunties, elder sisters from other mothers.  There are honest and have open conversations that makes my granddaughter wise, yet innocent. We all have failures and we are honest about them and allow our daughters to see us make a comeback.  We are authentic survivors, overcomers and thrivers and we model this for our young women, not just our flesh and blood.    Our language is the language of love, open-ended, full of trust, good intentions, and respect. 

I sit back and watch my daughter and her daughter speak the words I used in raising my girl.  I watch the interactions and know the outcomes by heart because I have faith in my daughter and in her choices as to how to raise her daughter.  There is an immense pride.  I wish for all daughters to have mothers that honor and celebrate them every day.  I wish for all mothers the understanding it takes for daughters to know what it took for her mother to be here at all.  I wish for daughters the sacred relationship of a mother who tries, fails, gets up and tries again…which is what life is really like.  I wish for daughters to know their mother’s history, culture, her wounds, and what it takes to get up every day and get on with life. 

I am a blessed woman.  I try, every day, to be deserving of this kind of daughter and the kind of granddaughter who calls grandma to discuss a problem she has and we go through pros and cons until she is ready to take a stand and speak her truths.  I wish this for every daughter.  I wish this for every mother.  I wish this for every grandmother.  Compassion.  Mercy.  Forgiveness.  Love.

©Carol Desjarlais 4.28.23