Happy Spring! God! NYC! and Women, Unite!

Vernal Equinox 2012.

I'm looking to turn over a new leaf, begin a new chapter, embrace my potential.

I'm not exactly sure how that is going to manifest but there has been a stirring inside me that has been building for some time and I feel it's time to release it.  Actually, it feels like it's going to happen no matter what.  It's not in my hands, so to speak - it feels bigger than I am.

This moment in time absolutely fits what I think I've been feeling.  I feel a sense of my physical and metaphysical selves wanting to come into harmony.  I am keenly aware of the duality of my humanness and my spirit trying to meet one another and go forward in unison, aiming for balance.  

I need to move.  I need to open.  I need to engage.  I feel a call to action.  All of these things are being answered by what's going on my life right now, so all I have to do is trust and follow this energy that is guiding me.

I'm involved with and currently rehearsing an intense and profound performance piece to be done at Santa Clara University the morning of April 16th, called What A Stranger May Know.

It is to commemorate the 5th anniversary of the massacre at Virginia Tech.  It is almost impossible to describe, but each of the victims will be represented in poetic, liturgical texts that serve to honor their lives lost.  It is presented on the University's website like this:

A play commemorating the lives of the thirty-two victims of Virginia Tech.

By Erik Ehn

April 16, 2012 7:30 am

St. Ignatius LawnSanta Clara University is one of 24 universities presenting Erik Ehn’s ambitious “What a Stranger May Know” on that day. Erik Ehn, Director of Playwriting at Brown University and internationally recognized artist-activist, has written 32 plays, one for each of the victims of the shootings at Virginia Tech and these will be performed as readings on the five-year anniversary of that day, April 16, 2012 across the United States.
Ehn is endeavouring to "write the unspeakable" and to make reflective, not informational works in which no one is impersonated.  He describes the simultaneous readings of these 32 scripts as "people thinking in time...a memorial action."  The goal being "to provide a community with imaginative access to mourning." Since the shootings took place in a hall where French, German and Hydrology were taught, there are many references to these three subjects in the monologues about both students and professors who lost their lives that day.
It's a hugely collaborative process and I'm so fortunate to be connected to this group of people.  The rehearsal has been inspiring yet arduous.  The words are dense and meaningful, the emotion is high.  I am moved to tears almost every time I enter the script.
An excerpt from the most recent email from my friend and director, playwright Eric Loo:
"this project is not just about what we experience or learn by doing this project.  It's about our spiritual carbon footprint that we're leaving, not only on the St. Ignatius lawn, but at the University and in the Universe."

Amen.

This weekend I'm planning to attend my first service at a place of worship in a very long time.  I used to go to midnight mass when I was at SCU but to say that I've become a lay Catholic is an understatement.  I recently decided that I wanted to find a way to tap into my spirituality and the very next day my online email group of Holistic Moms had a thread about finding a place of worship.  The request was worded basically exactly how I would have asked:
"Hi Moms, I was wondering if any of you attend a church/spiritual group/meditation group that you really like and recommend? I'm open to attending most any church/religion -- because I've found that the people are what really make the difference."
The responses and recommendations were great, and I've picked one to try out.  Looking forward to it.

I've got a birthday-present-to-myself trip planned for the middle of April; I'm off to New York City for the first time since I lived there in 1999 and 2000.  Solo.  Should be a wonderful, whirlwind 3 days and 3 nights.  Staying with Holly and seeing Dan Korb and visiting with Xander & his crew.  (that will only mean something to you if you know me and/or them)
I'm *so* excited to hang in that magnificent city and I'm trying to get a loose outline of my itinerary sketched out because I know it will be such a short trip that I don't want to try to do too much.  I also don't want to be kicking myself on the flight home for not doing/going/seeing something or somewhere.  (Suggestions welcome!)  I'm sure it's going to be bittersweet leaving Andrew & the girls, but mama needs a break!

Finally, I have a new experience looming on my horizon.  The weekend after I get back from NYC, I'm doing my first ever organized political march.  My days of being "anti-political anything" are over.  I'm finally motivated enough by the utter nonsense going on with regard to women's health, contraception, and other women's issues, that I've decided to go to Sacramento to participate in the We Are Women march on April 28th.

There's quite a bit of back-story that led me to this decision, but let's just say it's been building.  I have some kick-ass feminist friends who have illuminated this topic for me recently, so I've been doing lots of late night reading online about it.  If you're interested, there are some great articles that I can point to.  Some of the bills that are passing or barely being voted down are absolutely mind boggling.  Forced trans-vaginal ultrasounds?!  Are.  You.  Kidding.  Me?!
I do realize that the reason for the recent resurgence of rhetoric surrounding all of this might be the simple fact that it's an election year, but it doesn't matter.  These "issues" were handled half a century ago.  We will not be dragged back in time when it comes to equality and dignity.  We will not have our reproductive rights even questioned, let alone revoked.  More on this later.

This post has gotten way longer than I intended.  Are you really still here?

Peace.

J9

Today

It's feels hopeless to try to catch up on what our lives have been like lately, so

I give you

a little bit of
what we did

today

how cool is THIS?

You may not have any interest in a college bowl game from 75 years ago but I do! 

What's this? Oh, that's right - it's footage of 

my GRANDFATHER 

from the SCU vs. LSU Sugar Bowl of 1937. 

"Santa Clara took the lead on a 27-yard pass play from Falaschi to MANNY GOMEZ" 

click and watch this 2 minute video. 

http://www.scu.edu/scm/winter2012/1937.cfm

 

So awesome.

and a couple of photos:

my grandpa is on the bottom right with his face parallel to the camera

 and here he is again on the bottom left - dark and handsome (he was Mexican)

Here's the article by Chuck Hildebrand:

On New Year’s Day 1937, a team from a little Jesuit school in the Santa Clara Valley stunned the sports world with an upset that won them the Sugar Bowl. And put their home on the map.

The 47 Santa Clara football players and their entourage weren’t sure what was in store at the other end of the line when their Southern Pacific Bronco Special pulled out of the Santa Clara train station the day after Christmas 1936. But they knew who they were and whence they had come: through a season that, by the end of November, was 7-0 and had them ranked fifth in the Associated Press college football poll, introduced that fall. They beat Stanford, Auburn, and rival St. Mary’s. And on Dec. 4, they accepted a bid to play No. 2-ranked Louisiana State University in the Sugar Bowl at New Orleans’ Tulane Stadium.

"There was no question we thought we could win the game ...
We were good, and we knew it."

It was virtually a home game for the Tigers; oddsmakers favored LSU 4-to-1. The LSU program had been a public plaything of Louisiana Gov. Huey Long before his assassination in 1935: He’d hired and fired coaches, involved himself in recruiting—even tried to dictate play calls. He devoted enormous state resources to strengthening the university. One result: The LSU line averaged 212 pounds—25 pounds more than Santa Clara’s.
The Broncos were virtually unknown in the football-loving East, Midwest, and South. An AP preview story on the eve of the Sugar Bowl included multiple references to the “Bronchos.” Most Santa Clara players came from first- or second-generation immigrant Bay Area families and regarded their football experiences as extensions of their working-class backgrounds. In the midst of the Depression, few of them could have considered college had it not been for their football skills. They played as if far more than the outcome of a game was at stake.
They also had Coach Buck Shaw. He drilled his men in “moving your feet, keeping your balance, things like that,” said center Phil Dougherty ’37.
They were smaller but faster.
“There was no question we thought we could win the game,” teammate Jesse Coffer ’37 said. “We were good, and we knew it.”

Game on

The teams took the already muddy field in a steady drizzle before a capacity crowd of 42,000 at Tulane Stadium. One surprise for the Broncos: While Huey Long and LSU football were deified in rural Louisiana, the Crescent City was still a Tulane town, and a large segment of the throng was there to jeer LSU and cheer for its opposition. Fans of sister Jesuit school Loyola University of New Orleans were on Santa Clara’s side, too.
At a time before unlimited substitution was allowed, Shaw predicated playing time mainly on defensive skills at three of the four backfield positions. But he had one generalist, Nello Falaschi ’37, who never left the field, and was both the face and the personality of the 1936 Broncos.
Falaschi returned the opening kickoff to the Bronco 41. Teams exchanged punts. A few minutes later, fullback Chuck Pavelko ’37 took a snap from center, feinted left, shook an LSU tackle, and ran 13 yards to the LSU 31. Two plays later, with the ball still on the 31, Pavelko took a snap, pretended to burrow into the line, raised up and flipped a lateral to Falaschi, who then hit wide-open halfback Manny Gomez ’37 with a touchdown pass that gave Santa Clara a 7-0 lead.

Relive the game: Watch the Broncos in the 1937 Sugar Bowl.

Meet the team: See historic photographs.

Not much later, back in possession on the LSU 30, Santa Clara went for broke on fourth-and-12: Bruno Pellegrini ’37 connected with end Norm Finney ’37, who was alone in the end zone. The Broncos were up 14-0. The crowd went wild. LSU landed one touchdown pass just before halftime to narrow LSU’s deficit to 14-7. With his team up, Shaw was concerned about his players being slowed by uniforms and boots now caked in mud. So he put in a call to Loyola.
“When we got to the dressing room,” Al Wolff ’38 recalled, “there were dozens of shoes sent over by Loyola, just scattered around the floor. The coaches said, ‘Find a pair that fits and put ’em on. Then we changed into our practice uniforms for the second half, and we were ready to play again.”
The defense took over in the second half. LSU managed only 44 rushing yards in the game, and went 25 game minutes without registering a first down during one stretch. A 35-yard interception return by Gomez gave Santa Clara the ball at the LSU 15 midway through the third quarter, and on first and goal from the 4, end Frank “Mississippi” Smith ’37 took a handoff on an end-around and scored to give Santa Clara a 21-7 lead. LSU scored on the second play of the fourth quarter but never seriously threatened to score again. The final score was 21-14.
The ride home was a festive one indeed—so much so that, celebrating along the way, a few of the players even spent a night in jail in Juárez.*
Seventy-five years later, there are only a few of the ’37 Sugar Bowl Broncos left. Chuck Pavelko, now 96, lives in Del Mar. Al Wolff, now 94, lives in Santa Barbara. Wolff sums up that era so: “Football put Santa Clara University on the map.”

* I would like to note that my grandfather was not on that train ride back - he fell gravely ill with tuberculosis after the game and stayed there in a sanitorium.  He was so ill that when he was finally put back on a train to San Fransicsco weeks later, the SF Chronicle mistakenly wrote an obituary for him!

Opening night! and "Don't Carpe Diem"

Yay, I'm back on the boards!
I have 2 short scenes in a production of Marvin's Room and I'm really excited to play for a sold out audience tonight.  The theater is small but it's the perfect space for this intimate, deep and lovely show about life, family, love and death.  Plus, my two characters seem to be written for comic relief, which suits me perfectly right now.
It's been a pretty light rehearsal process for me, which was key for me to be able to do it at all.  It's taken me out of the dinner-bath-books-bedtime routine a few nights a week for the past month, which has been a welcome break.  Andrew does just fine with the girls and I know it's good for us to share responsibilities and support one another's extra-curricular activities.  It's vital, actually.
Plus, the girls know that I'm at rehearsal, doing what I love.  That's huge, because I would like to get acting back into my bones consistently and forever, and this allows my daughters to start learning more about their mom as a person. (what a concept!) Sadie is excited to come visit the theater, even though she can't see the performance. 

In other news, this article was shared with me on Facebook and I could not possibly agree with it more.  It hits the nail on the head so completely, it's staggering.  I love it.  It's long, so I highlighted my favorite parts.

Glennon Melton
blogger, Momastery
Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."
Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.
I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.
Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."
That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.
There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"
I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.
Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.
But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.
Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.
Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.
These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.
If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

out with the old...

Ah, New Year's Eve...
it used to be one of my favorite nights (excuses) to get all dolled up and go DO something.
This year it's just the same old-same old. I have done several loads of laundry, changed bedsheets, gone grocery shopping, tidied up the living room (x3) and have only just begun to think about taking Christmas down.

I cooked dinner for the girls and had to sit with them to make them finish their broccoli. Oh, how I miss the days they would willingly gobble up absolutely anything I served to them! I know they'll be back, but that's a tough one for me because seriously, all I want are healthy children. I guess I should just be glad that having Trader Joe's sparkling pomegranate juice with dinner was enough to put big grins on both of their faces and help them wash down the green stuff!

As I type, Andrew is finishing up the girls' quick blue bath (Santa brought bath water coloring tablets) and he will read a few books before a very early 7:30 bedtime. Lilah is having some serious sleep regression and we're hearing a lot of " I want milk, mama. All done sleeping now. I'm awake. Watch Charlie Brown. Watch Yo Gabba Gabba." at 2:15, 3:30, 4:25 AM lately. B R U T A L. Sadie will go down without a struggle. She's always been a sack rat and is still pretty in love with her 4 month old big girl bed. Plus she has a really cool new portable night light thing that makes being under the covers pretty darn fun. (thanks Grandma & Grandpa!)
The Chill Pill:
In lieu of a much coveted shower that I somehow thought I was going to squeeze in today, I just did my eye make-up and spritzed on my cheap perfume for the rest of the evening with my honey. We're having marinated tri-tip and potatoes with our broccoli. Woo-hoo! I didn't buy that highly rated $12.99 Prosecco for nothing!

Yesterday we did this:

we're thinking about putting in an offer on this sweet little seaside shanty

All jokes aside, I do need to acknowledge that this new year is going to be significant for me. I have to let go of something. Something big. I have been in a multiple-times-daily internal battle with my brain, heart and let's be honest: my evolutionary female biology - about having another child. This is a Big Thing To Be Putting on the Internet, but I don't have many followers, so whatever. I want (need) to be able to release this from the cage of myself and put it "out there":

I am done having babies.

*HUGE sigh*

Even having said that, I do know that I have to edit myself here because obviously this is extremely personal. Still, this is something that I've been carrying with me every single moment of every single day for a very long time. This is not something that I can force on my partner. We have had many talks and he has been as gentle and empathetic as he could without sacrificing his integrity. Essentially, we have both been waiting for the other to have a change of heart. Instead of dragging out my angst and risking the nose-dive into an ocean of resentment, I have made the decision to succumb to the "fate/God" factor that has been meeting my longing like a brick wall again and again and again.
I have to release this from my heart and soul in order to find my life and breath again. It has been far too consuming for far too long. I know there has to be a lesson in it. There has to be a reason that I'm not getting what I (think I) want. I want to embrace that lesson and that reason. It may not show itself in 2012 or 2013 or until I'm old and gray. All I know is that I have to - I simply must - believe that letting go of this will open up something in me that I didn't know was there.

I cannot express how much I wish to find out what the heck that is.

So, out with the old, in with the new. Bring it.

Winter Solstice. Peace on Earth.

Today the Sun is still. Solstice. Peace on Earth.


I lifted the following straight off an email that was forwarded from the father of a dear friend of mine:

Wishing you a wonderful, merry Christmas, a bright, happy Hanukkah, and most of all, peace.

Peace - a very nice word. Easy to say, nice to envision, yet seemingly almost impossible to achieve. Which means that something must be missing in how we think about it.
Perhaps Albert Einstein knew something - "Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved through understanding."

Buddhists would say that at its core, peace comes from the recognition that we don't exist as separate selves; from the willingness to see others as not so different, but made of the same substance. Mother Teresa: "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." The same idea is there in the Hebrew "shalom," which means not only peace, but wholeness, where no part is missing or damaged.

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, often says that the first act of peace is for each side to recognize that the other side also suffers - possibly as a result of our own actions, or by our inaction, or as a result of misperceptions or lack of understanding - and out of that compassion, for each to have the desire for the other side to suffer less.

To do that, it helps for us first to be in touch with all the things in our own lives that we have a reason to be grateful for. "If, in our daily life we can smile, if we can be peaceful and happy, not only we, but everyone will profit from it. This is the most basic kind of peace work."

So, wishing you peace - not just a cheerful, happy, syrupy sentiment - but true peace.

via John Field Shaw, from his friend who credits John Hussman of the Hussman Fund

Halloween and art

our Halloween card photo shoot:
Lilah got some very cute jammies:
We dressed up for a little walk-about downtown on the 29th:
(they are little mermaids - a huge thanks to my mom for helping me sew the hardest parts of Lilah's homemade hack-job of a costume!)
then we glammed it up a bit for a party:

(I'm a Sea Queen, of course!)

on the 31st I carved Sadie's Jack-o-lantern designs:
(wasn't easy but totally worth it)
and Andrew took the girls Trick-or-Treating:
In other news, Sadie's art skills have taken a very fun turn. She's gone from scribbles and pictures:
to lists and "writing":
to some really interesting and happy looking creatures: