Madagascar Madness

For those of you who know us, you probably are aware of Diego's unhealthy obsession with Madagascar. Spitting like a zebra, memorizing and repeating entire scenes of the movies (1 & 2) and of course, the belting out of "I Like to Move It" at the most inopportune times.


Every now and then, I take my child grocery shopping with me. I know, he can learn so many things from going shopping with me, but there are times when I would rather just slip into a store, grab my items, and line up nicely at the registers instead of the anxiety inducing hour dodging of the strategically placed kid items, the demands for chocolate milk and cookies, and the inevitable meltdown just as we hit the cashiers.
So, against my better judgment, with the thought that the grocery store is warm, not frivolous but nonetheless shopping, and quasi-educational, we hit the local Whole Foods in a green shopping cart. Not having been there in a while, we were casually cruising, avoiding the traps of the kid toy area, the dairy aisle (see above re: chocolate milk) and the chip section. A trip down the cereal aisle seemed safer than the adjacent cookie aisle, as much for mom as for child, until I heard the words I never wanted to hear coming from my son's mouth. "Mama! I want "I Like to Move It" cereal!! Please can I have "I Like to Move It" cereal?" In horror, I looked to where Diego was motioning wildly. There, faced neatly on the shelves in the ultimate joke on me, was a new Envirokidz cereal with a picture of two ring-tailed lemurs, looking pleased as punch, floating above a sea of cereal puffs. Not just the innocuous golden color of all breakfast cereal, however, some of the puffs were alarmingly, deeply, richly brown. A closer inspection confirmed my horror: these were chocolate and peanut butter puffs.

To me, this was a complete assault on everything I consider pure in the world. To be an organic cereal company marketing chocolate as acceptable breakfast food? Does anyone else feel this is simply unethical? Then, to add insult to injury, to have as your mascot for the offending cereal a character whose claim to fame is to get kids all over the country, no doubt the world over, to "Move It?" Maybe I'm in the minority here. Perhaps other children aren't wired to repeat that song and shout it out everywhere, to drive their parents and teachers to the brink of madness with that silly lemur, but I still plead my case. What in the name of God is that lemur doing trying to sell my child chocolate puffs for breakfast, something no self-respecting parent who cares about health would spoon up for their child's first meal of the day?

Somehow, I was able to wheel us past the cereal and escape with only four Big Bird apple juices for his lunch. I suppose I'll have to avoid the cereal aisle from now on, along with cookies and the milk section. Going to the grocery store never was so much fun; I have to plan a strategy for getting through without succumbing to completely evil marketing, and insidious ring tailed lemurs mocking me all the way.

Go Barack Obama...

At least, that's one sign that a Montessori child wrote today when deciding what to write for our inauguration party. Well, less of a party and more of a group of squirmy preschool kids being shushed every few minutes, when more than a four or five minute lapse between speech and applause was causing interest to wane, as the kids loved the clapping part, of course! I for one was just teary at the thought that Barack Obama was being sworn in and addressing the nation for the first time as our President. I can't believe I am excited about a President...and it's more than just a crush, though I do admit to getting giggly more than once about his handsomeness. However, it is the fact that he speaks to my most passionate beliefs about being part of a great nation instead of a confederacy of morons, to paraphrase another author , that really gets my heart pumping and not his good looks.
Listening to his speech without seeing him, just letting the words percolate and simmer down in my mind as each one led into the next, I was just elated, for the very first time in my life, to be American. More than that--I believed him. I heard what he said about a call to action, and about working for the good of others rather than the benefit of ourselves or a select few. I agreed with his outlook for new, green technologies and the idea of putting science and spirit on a similar track, by being cognisant of what our effect on our earth will be beyond the immediate. I was grateful when he spoke of the need for communication to lead the way to peace, not violence. When he extended his hand to all nations and told the world that on this day, we are once again a country that will be guided by our ideals and not by what turns a profit, which as we've seen, can also topple.
I was awed when he spoke of the need for radical change in this country, for accessible health care, for better schools. And like many of us, I am sure, I felt a renewal of the promise of the American Dream. As a parent, he reminded me that a most important part of my job is raising a child who is ready to be a compassionate and integral part of his society. As an educator, I heard the challenge of letting children learn in freedom, with the best possible methods of acquiring wisdom along with knowledge to make informed choices for their generation. Hopefully the blueprint is coming for them to follow from the nation's capitol. Now with a leader who has a vision and seems determined, we'll get to see the change we've been wishing for, not in a minute but with time and effort, and a change in the way we view things. A new perspective is just what we've banked our hopes on. Go Barack Obama, Go! And the rest of us, we're going to need to be that change, too.

Frozen Poems

Maybe spring is the haiku season, but winter could creep in a close second, with the breathless powder cutting into your face and the winds numbing your exposed skin, head down and hood up, tunneling through bright ice blue sky and crunching boots in packed snow. Earth lies asleep under a white blanket waiting to waken with the tingling growth of spring. In the season of ice, everything glows and sparkles with icy light, reflects diamond prisms and crystals against the blank, creamy background of snow's mystery.

however, it is damn cold out there!
and maybe for the best, I feel the need to be abbreviated, to say more with less. to be pithy...and leave you to interpret things in your own experience.

Winter shuts us in
Casts shadows of icicles
On shuttered windows

love,
Stacy

Ebb and Flow

The concept of chasing material or spiritual wealth is in essence no different than the concept of ridding yourself of things, or giving stuff up. It's sort of a head game either way; with one, you spend your life trying to fill holes and keep emptiness at bay by accumulating, while the other, you pretend you don't care about the stuff but nonetheless battle the desire for more once you rid yourself of it. Really, all this stuff sort of ebbs and flows, and we think we're controlling it. The problem is, sometimes it controls us.

I've moved a lot, so this is something I know about on many levels. I've gone through the motions of downsizing, of whittling away at my possessions, trying to decide what is necessary or irreplaceable. I've moved to a place that allowed me to collect, only to have to move out and spend hours deliberating over mountains of chunky vintage sweaters, knick-knacks, handbags and shoes. I've watched as my mind, even years later, suddenly recalls a lost or traded item and wishes it were once again mine! I've tried saying I was simplifying only to make room for more stuff to have to shed yet again. Now, with a full storage space that I could, most days, care less about, I'm still surprised at how I miss my belongings, at the feeling I get for my own stuff vs. the stuff that I am using in my sister's old bedroom, or the idea (glorious in my mind) of one day having my own place filled with all the things I've had to put in boxes and stow away for someday, for now.

I've chipped away at much that is intangible. I traded my laissez faire lifestyle for parenthood, relinquishing many of my unrealized dreams, and replacing them with all sorts of things I could have never imagined. Seeing myself more clearly through the lens of this small child, I've had to face myself more honestly, buck up and let go of more than just late nights and so called freedom. Being confronted with my own powerful desires sometimes makes me a bit grumpy when the wee person blocking it is demanding I stop talking on the phone (my only real indulgence these days) and finish reading a bedtime story.

For some it's losing everything and for others it's having it all. For me it's been the path of parenthood, a multi-layered boon, that has led me back to my most inner self. Though some of these difficult decisions were colored by too much emotion, now living with the consequences it turns out it wasn't all horrible. Even the things I've lost (for now, my own place, for one) are tempered by what comes my way through this ever changing role. As hard as it is to give up the idea of myself, who I want to be and who I present to the world, this is nothing if not an opportunity! By fully embracing who/what/where I am right now, I get the chance to practice patience and loving-kindness, concepts I've intellectually digested but still fall light years short of actually embodying it most days. Caught between the world of being a parent and being a child of my own parents, under their roof, is an incredible crucible for viewing the many parts of the whole, and working with them, accepting them, and actually learning to love them even when I am not sure if I am doing the right thing.

I have nothing to gain and even less to lose. Or, in the hopes of somehow just getting through the mess that comes with each renewed accumulation, I break down and buy organizers for new puzzles, play-sets, and art supplies, thinking of how, yet again, I've done it to myself. Because although I've cleared out some mental clutter, I've somehow bought an entire toy store for my child...hmmm. What am I doing but repeating a cycle, this time with someone else to blame? Who are these toys for, really, when my son is happy playing with the box they came in?

Recently, I noticed something amazing: I went through great pains, acted as if I had made ultimate sacrifices, dramatized my very existence, and created a huge illusion of loss in my life through various mishaps and adventures ill advised to most. In actuality, though material and spiritual things have shifted, and I can enumerate items or even ideas/concepts that I've surrendered, there was/is nothing to lose, and likewise nothing to gain. I'm practicing accepting things more and pushing less these days, as a result of this direct experience.

'Course, there is still this person that shuffles around in the body that I wake up inside of everyday. Old habits die hard, and I'm far from realized, whatever that means. Yet, I've sort of reached an equilibrium (mostly intellectually, but more and more directly) where the losses and gains are no more than ripples in the river I wade in, as I continue to discover the true meaning of my particular, perfect life. Brightly, happily, it is one that intersects with all of yours. Wading in the water, it's harder to tell where the ripples begin and end, or if they don't just undulate on and on and carry me with them downstream. Such is life, and I happily surrender to it...hope I can float along as long as possible, relishing the dream, and cutting my losses. Or, more to the point, realizing that the gains and losses are just two sides of the same coin that is created by the mint of the mind, and nothing can be measured in these terms when everything is mutually arising, dependent on everything else, and can never really be measured when the whole thing keeps unfolding as we move from one moment to the next together.
I'm lucky to be here with all of you. Thanks for reading.
Love,
Stacy

Snow Days of Winter

Oh, lovely snow days of winter, the white blankness that covers the world in a hushed, unhurried grace. It's almost like the season whispers, stay home all day in your pajamas, eat nothing but cookies, and go to bed by 8pm. At least, that's what happened at our house when Nonnie B and Paparoni left us for the weekend. And yes, at least one pan was burned during their absence...but at least the house is still standing. I guess there are reasons why I am not allowed to cook around here.
Pictures of our fun snowy days coming soon...