IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck

If I had my life to live over, I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television - and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."

There would have been more "I love you's".. More "I'm sorrys" ...

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it ... live it...and never give it back.

© Erma Bombeck

(various versions of this are floating on the web, but I think this one is close to the original)

Women's Stories, a letter

the ones we tell each other,

late at night or early in the morning

over coffee & a cigarette,

more than one if it's a story we've told

over and over like chain smoking, like

dirty laundry soaking in the tub, stains

evoking lost memories of teething, cut

lips, blood on the sweatshirt where

you held his head & he bled all over you

& you want to speak about this love

you have for other women who listen

intently, with their own pain showing

& many cigarettes to carry them

through the telling.

a compassionate voice or ear,

the closeness we feel yet cannot say

because we're afraid of a label

but what we really want, I want,

is someone fearless, a weaver of words

or truthteller, someone who's not afraid

of hurting while resetting a bone.

to talk about the helplessness of being

stuck in a house with a sick child,

the boredom that strikes,

the complaining we do, being called martyr

when all I really want is to tell someone

how unfair it is that I'm the only one

they call for in the middle of the night

& it's my ears hear them coughing

at 3 a.m. & I can't just lie there.

how to find out what our own needs are

& how to take care of ourselves,

not just wait for him to come home, take over,

pick up the toys and the pieces, mop up our spills,

how to find a quiet time, time alone,

time to think & write.

our need to be replenished with each other,

filling up our bowls with sugar & coffee

so we can tell our stories

not just talking over fences in the backyard

but actually getting out & seeing women

doing the same hard work,

no pay, no thanks, just their little faces

when one least expects it, smiling & asking

me to sing a song about I love you

 or making up a song about superman

all by himself in the living room.

he says, go away mom, don't talk (meaming

I have to do this alone, don't listen

cause it might not be perfect the first time).

I send you this in guise of a letter

because that's the way the words are falling out

of my fingers. in my mind I hear

the tapping on keys and it comforts me

at least I can listen to myself talk

without talking out loud (for that's

what crazy women do).

so I keep on writing & dreaming

trying to live truthfully

with my emotions, in my body

and I hope you do the same.

from Little Mother, published 1997

Jennifer Boire

Compassion Tao Te Ching

# 67

Excerpt

 

I have just three things to teach:

Simplicity, patience, compassion.

These three are your greatest treasures.

Simple in actions and in thoughts,

You return to the source of being.

Patient with both friends and enemies

You accord with the way things are.

Compassionate toward yourself,

You reconcile all beings in the world.

Quebec in Spring

Radio announces 22 degree high

only 12 this morning

(a boy refuses to wear a jacket to school).

Tomorrow, snow flurries.

Warming sun sinks her down into a lawn chair.

Bird chatter up in the white ash,

silence of winter broken.

Black lab rushes birds to the cedar hedge,

seeds brim over the feeder, swarms of bugs.

Drying out wet boxes, soggy winter dirt.

Skis, bikes & roller blades clutter the garage.

Big oil slick on the paving stone.

When will the honeysuckle bloom?

so far only dried twigs.

She waits in her lawn chair.

Hopi Quote

"There is a river flowing now very fast.

It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.

They will try to hold on to the shore.

They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.

Know the river has its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.

See who is in there with you and celebrate.

At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves.

For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt. The time of the lone wolf is over.

Gather yourselves!

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for."

Oraibi, ArizonaHopi Nation
 

Mother of Heaven

You are more lovely
than the sun and moon
shining in the sky together.

MOTHER of heaven,
Your wonders are sung
by those above and those below.

From Thunder, Perfect Mind (Gnostic gospels)

Do not be ignorant of me. Be on your guard!

For I am the first and the last.

I am the honored one and the scorned one.

I am the whore and the holy one

I am the wife and the virgin

I am the mother and the daughter

I am the members of my mother.

I am the barren one

And many are her sons.

I am she whose wedding is great

And I have not taken a husband.

I am the midwife and she who does not bear.

I am the solace of my labour pains.

I am the bride and the bridegroom.

And it is my husband who begot me

I am the mother of my father.

Heart Centered

Since October I have been living with a frozen shoulder, and seriously questioning the source of its restricted movement - was I being asked to do less, to rest more? Yes, partly. Was I being asked to relinquish my self-stated role as Overarching Boss of Everything (at least in my household)? yes, partly.  Was it about surrendering to my left side, my receptive, feminine side and letting go of the yang, masculine active side? yes, partly.  But today I heard another piece of the message.

A friend of mine, Lauren Young http://ascendingenergies.com/ had set up an interview with me over the phone as practice for a class he is doing at the NHC (http://www.nhcinstitute.com/). He began by asking me if I had any questions - and the only thing that really popped up for me was a question relating to the shoulder injury.  He told me it was not related to doing too much, but more related to the heart energy and its expression being stuck. He suggested it was an energetic blockage, like a bunch of tangled knots in my shoulder, but coming from my heart's desire for full expression. (I first typed this as 'nots' in  my shoulder....hmmm)

While listening to him, I was getting an internal message that this might also be linked to my desire to be more public, more out there in the world with my message for women, with a new book I'm writing, the retreats and workshops I lead and need to publicize better.  And also aboutthe need to protect myself, the push-pull conflict of wanting to be more available for new opportunities, and yet fearful of how much I want my private time for myself, for quiet reading, reflection and resting.  It could also be about how I manifest my energy in the world - as loving energetically flowing person, or as fearful of being judged, vulnerable, unloveable person. Finally, what I learned is that the most important power I have within me is the power of my intention. What do I truly want?

This was an important new understanding for me, and I look forward to exploring it some more.

It was very helpful to have a trained, intuitive counsellor bring clarity and guidance on this issue. Thanks Lauren!

nameste
musemother/jenn