Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Resilience

We trained our son to be resilient in the face of adversity.  We called it many things. 

Rewinding.   Letting it go, trying again and again.  Look for a different path.  Brainstorm.  Ask for hugs. ask for help. Forgiveness, flexibility  being compassionate.

He came to me today, with a lighter, cigarette and spice packet in hand.  He had been using drugs and started using cigarettes.  

He took money for school, re-purposed it for drugs and went up to the food mart to hang out till some @#$%!! bought him some cigs and the harmful spice packets that the children smoke.


I am a compulsive liar, he says.   I need help.  I've been smoking pot again and this stuff. 

He'll have a life long craving for stimulants and high reward behavior.   He'll need to pick himself up and try again.

To parent him we have to be super resilient.  He was sent to bed grounded, but we gave him a hug and sent him to be bed with love in our hearts. 

Our sunken angry shriveled hearts.

We have to parent from a position of strength, and I have shrunk.

That's when I turned to my friends.   Draw with me, I need to vent.  Sure, anytime.

So we draw. I draw a weed smoking teen being doused, deluged with a bucket of water.
My friend draw roses.

I draw a angry fire burning up money.
My friend draws roses with a bee in it.

I draw a tiny baby asleep under a blanket.

The anger leaves me.  

More friends come.  I relax and plan my tomorrow.  There is always a tomorrow to try again.

A new day with new choices
I chose happiness and peace for me and my family.





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