Real Life with Goddess…

Tootsie

Real life with goddess includes all day events for Lego League adventures, afternoon discussions rolling into the evening and on until bedtime because life can be that upsetting for teenagers and then all day stand and deliver co-coaching a beautiful birth while marveling at the wonder of the feminine divine not so much shining but bearing down for one more push before the truly gorgeous baby girl shows her face to the world. A face covered in womb’s stories, a beauty so gut-raw real sometimes only the tough ones can stand it.

Goddess is gory glory, has anyone else noticed? Shining glamour notions vary from culture to subculture to neighborhood to home to woman. And they don’t even begin to make up the real story of real life with goddess. We deal. We make it real and then we roll out the red carpet for things that matter hugely. How many women are out there mopping up the mess in the wake of marriage gone way wrong, nursing the bruised, often broken heart within and, for some, the bruises on their bodies, turning to shine a sincere smile on the face of a daughter or son while the phone rings about the overdue bills and the hamster cage screams for a cleaning and the schedule at work clamors beneath it all. This is goddess. It isn’t pretty as much as it’s courageous, resilient, vulnerable, and oh so amazing.

I had the privilege of coming home to a crazy kitten yowling out for love and kids grabbing for one more hug after a whole day of standing, coaching, holding a head up that could barely raise itself off the labor and delivery bed and all I could think was how amazing, how absolutely amazing our lives, the women who keep on day after day and continue to sing, to smile, to be real about what hurts while hoping and planning for brighter days. This is real life with goddess…

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September Spill…

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[Pardon the previous code as I roll along here… :0) ]

My posts have been mostly images, songs and videos lately so I feel compelled to say something. September has pounced on us here a bit like a lion from the brush as we picnic on life’s better moments. Not many folks imagine tossing a blanket and spreading out the food in lion territory but that’s what life is sometimes, isn’t it? A measure of risk. We try to pretend there are no lions. Or maybe we do that whole attraction thing and just believe firmly, strongly, totally that the lions will prey on other animals, as we face the inner lions and acknowledge all the soul’s unsettled issues and. The truth is we do interact with other worlds, other lives, other realities and they have their adventures that overlap our own and we get to sort it all out, be there for each other and grab those sandwiches and growl as we head for hopefully safer ground.

So far, by the 9th of this month we’ve faced a death at the local high school, one that gripped my daughter in grief for over a week and she’s still dealing with the fallout; court dates for testifying for a friend and clerical errors that had put my middle guy in a holding pattern instead of the AIG track he had been on previously (AIG – academically, intellectually gifted). Clerical errors. In spite of my checking in on the situation twice, he didn’t get the attention he should have had last year. But today, we found resolution. In the meantime, paychecks were lost in the mail. And a computer virus or worm sending out emails without my permission this morning right after my “notes from the universe” mentions unexpected opportunities ( I know, this has happened to plenty but not to me before!). Wooo hoooo! Basically, this month is reminding me that I can only attract/influence so much as I sit back with myself and ask just how much I need to work through my beliefs about my life. Do I believe I’m at the mercy of ______ and will therefore encounter _________? Is that why ___________? Well, that’s more homework to do and I’ve done tons already. Can’t a gal take a break every once in a while?

But this is not all the month has brought and I realize that in the middle of all I cannot prevent is this awareness that keeps growing stronger, one that grips my heart with a belief that there is more than enough for all of us on this roiling planet; that we will find a way beyond tragedies, a way to love more deeply and with more intent; that we will find those who match our passion and commitment to facilitating soulful living and integrity; that there is so very much to be grateful for as we keep plugging away at the habits of courage, of grace (yes, there are habits of grace) and visionary love. As I weather these tumults, I find that I’m also encountering new and renewing friendship, networks of people reaching out to support and doors opening that were once closed tight. People helping people only because they can, not because it’s a “good thing to do.”

So, the spill of the day is this…life is precious, pulsing possibility supreme whether we’re holding the grieving or walking through that new opening. It’s a wonderful thing, in spite of the pain and frustration we do sometimes inevitably encounter, to be able to connect with those who keep their hearts open in compassion and with a passion that moves the feet to dance again. In short, in 9 days time I’m finding I have some wonderful friendships here in this whirlwind we call life…

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What A Ride…

“Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.” -Emily Dickinson

Rob Brezsny’s Free Will Astrology posted the above quote on Facebook today. And I have to say this resonates more deeply for me than anything going on in this rather roiling world. News of riots in the streets of London and surrounding cities, hurricanes hurling category 3 in the aftermath of atypical quakes in my own town here, ugly political posturing, corruption amuck and with each issue after issue I follow passionately – finding no solid resolution – the one thing that shores me up, defines every footstep and hand-holding moment is love and, in particular, loving others. Loving others. In whatever way life allows, in whatever way we can create, envision, revolutionize, we become more truly who we are by our loving. This is especially true once the masks have been stripped away, the safety mechanisms melted down into acceptance and the ego purified, tamed.

A nearby train hails me on a regular basis and it twists through my ideas of what should happen in a life, what is “fair.” Love is tied to that train but a love I can’t access as I want to access it. That train held my kids when I hoped they wouldn’t know the hurts they know now (ah and the joys…the lessons learned, the wisdom), that train held a promise of healing of my own childhood, that train faithfully calls out, haunting, insisting, reminding me I cannot control outcomes but I can certainly be fully on the ride this life has become. And what does it evoke of me? Love of other. And it magnifies. Increases. Grows me up, asks me to accept what is and release what isn’t, allow all my longings to birth me beyond any guarantee of their fulfillment. It reminds me that we all have such a hailing reality somewhere in our lives, maybe even deep within calling out possibilities, asking that we love beyond the control-filled drive to get there now, flowing in a spiraling wonder of returning possibilities. Maybe new ones but it’s always love. Love is always returning us to the deep place within so we can grow more fully into who we are.

I hear the news. Watch cause and effect unfold in my own life. And it’s quite a ride. We do the best we can and sometimes that best doesn’t fill the void, assuage the angry wounds. One of my kids is grieving on levels deeper than I would ever fathom or imagine to witness, grieving his parents’ split. And it splits me, rips me into pieces as I give all that I can and find that I have, in pouring myself out, not begun to fill up the loss for him. It’s a process his life will unfold and I can only augment, give room for his awakening to what life is and is not, what love can heal eventually. This loving in the midst of grief and joy and challenges surreal does something to the stuff of amness. There is a solid being emerging here, there, in-between the shocked pauses but only as I allow love to stew me, brew me into presence. It’s not so much about scrambling for a solution as it is about standing in, being with, holding up.

I love the scripture that says “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” For all my frustration with many mis-translated, mis-interpreted scripture this one sings out a truth I cannot deny and that cannot be mistaken. It’s a highly powerful filter through which we can determine how much “love” is truly love. How many of us respond to others in fear of not being loved and call that very exchange love? How many of us respond to others in the hope to make them happy because we’re frightened of disappointment and identify that very response as love? What if it’s all we’ve known?

It’s the love that comes like a bit of a thief in the night out of nowhere that births us. It’s the love that melts away all the poses we identified as love, ceases all the reactions in the hopes to make mom and dad (in the form of someone who has become their replacement) understand or love us just a bit more, quiets the endless clamoring for the next fix and evokes heart, soul, mind in expression of gratitude, in constructs, creations that affirm the heartbeat of humanity. Through this unfolding of love for other, the fearless love, the control-free love, we become. And in our becoming the train goes ’round one more time, one more ride, and yet another.  And we experience yet one more opportunity to manifest ourselves as love.

On with it…

jruthkelly

Cancer Cure

I’ve not considered myself a patriot or a nationalist in the traditional sense for a long time. My citizenship is of the earth, the whole beautiful wild planet. This information makes me even less of a patriot. But my faith in those who stand up to corruption has grown hugely. If you’ve been affected by cancer, this is worth every minute. I would hope no one who cares would miss seeing this. It’s a limited viewing from 6/11 to 6/13 after which time it can be purchased for $13.99. It’s going into my collection ‘though I viewed it free of charge initially. An amazing, amazing chronicle of tenacity in the face of horrific opposition and criminal sabotage.

QUICK GLANCE: This is the story of a doctor who has been working with the worst forms of cancer since the 70s with a success rate far beyond the accepted “success” experienced thus far in traditional, devastating treatment practices. For that fact, he has been attacked; failing that, the US govt sought to steal his patents; failing that… he’s still curing some impossible cancers in spite of a long tedious history of shameful hounding by the FDA and National Cancer Institute. This IS where my faith in the legal system here is somewhat bolstered ‘though I’m appalled he was harrassed for so long.

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May Melts to June

Mid-April to mid-June unfurls a pretty hefty schedule the likes of which most parents recognize as the spring smash. Or May madness or. Or. It’s comparable to the Christmas season in frenzied demand and sometimes considered worse. I’d have to be one of those who consider it worse. But it’s full of all kinds of overflowing richness of living during which time …

my daughter turned 16 and went to her first prom with her first REAL boyfriend (mom is still getting over the shock of how much she’s grown)
(insert images of teens all over the place, 16 candles, getting real about what’s really important while picking out a 20’s style prom dress, taking tons of pics and laughing over the turn of events that resulted in her path colliding with a special guy just days after we intuitively decided her first real boyfriend probably wouldn’t be from the U.S. – he’s not, of course.)
violins and violas sang in the arms of my two sons at two concerts
soccer finales
end of school year exams
projects surreal (i’m still mad at the workload ridiculous, really?!)
endless mom-taxi scenarios
field trips 20+ hours long (we really must cram it all in at the last minute, it seems)
everyone crawling out of their caves and scheduling get-togethers and and and really?

i need a month-long nap now and am sitting back pretty shocked that i did this last year while going to school (minus the prom).
but here’s a glimpse of the melt…

Sixteen Candles...
 
prom beauty and bros
 
boy with the bow
 
zac in action
 
beaufort, nc
crystal coast

now… the… summer… (and. and. and.)

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Moonful Moments And…

When walking through the rain on a spring-felt morning in still winter a smile is inevitable. What a welcome wash of promise, whispers of budding life around the next curve. It’s been a long short month. Walks in moonlight with my sons and long, long talks in the talking car (my car is the talking car) with my daughter, all these moments sweet cram their wealth in with the ongoing projects, demands, plans, obstructions and creations.

moonwalk in boylight?

Life is…precious, good, wet, dusty, rearranging, revamping, renewing…challenging. And I still feel the moon from the walk in boylight and the joy of feeling life heal places deep. Two gently growing people grace my life with this enormous revelation of the sweetness of boyness, everything from crazy arm farts to kisses on the cheeks and backrubs for their mom but not before pounding out a rhythm one more time with the feet on the hardwood floor and not without pulling out a violin or viola to grace the house with something yearning. Without these wonderful wildish creatures, I’d not have the hours of making clay, spreading clay and watching the 9-headed mythological wonder emerge…

hydra happy

What struck me the most after 9 hours in the kitchen cooking up hydra? These guys love team, love creating, love feeling like they’ve contributed. And they LOVE to see what gooey masses can become.

When you grow up with all girls…there’s much to learn. And unlearn. The unlearning is the best…

best brothers

And then there’s this daughter-woman who speaks into my life in ways no one has before, washing past the walls constructed in defense, crumbling bits of “ruth” into a mass of flowing acceptance. “Mom, you have GOT to stop…” The list is long but the ruthlessness (the best kind) of her truthful observations births me. It turns out that the insecurities my closest friends observe are howling out their worst for my supportive truth-speaking daughter. “You are so hard on yourself…you don’t let me say anything good about you because I’m your daughter…you assume…and you will NOT listen when I try to…and would you please…” How many moms get the chance to watch their daughters grow from their own place of unique perspective and say “I know you Mom, more than you realize, and what I see…”? It’s a stretching beautiful time. It magnifies and deepens what we’re here for in these roles. As parents, we’re meant to facilitate the emergence of a whole person who happens to be our offspring. That apparently includes allowing their facilitation of our continued emergence into wholeness. I get to see whether or not my ideas about roles are actually viable, liveable. If you are mom, do you lose your authority, your place of leadership when the teen-woman pounds the truth lovingly in your face? No, but you give room for the truth that we’re all here to learn from each other and we don’t lose face when the kids know better. Sometimes they know better because we lose perspective by virtue of the role itself, growing a bit brittle and resistant in the hopes to protect them from our own humanity. It doesn’t work. There’s such reward in experiencing it all, growing in new ways while I listen to her umpteenth lovely, dance with  Für Elise on the guitar, and watch her art, her articulation and her heart for love grow.

wise woman walking

This is my world and. And so much else. I find it difficult to write lately due to the fullness, the overwhelming goodness of it all. The shift going on in my soul requires times of brewing silence. And so it has been lately. Something new is on the horizon. It may not manifest itself in ways others will recognize but there’s a spring rain falling on winter’s earth here washing away debris, wooing the soul for another dance with life…

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Savage Inspiration

“Buried deep in the heart of every human is a savage, wanton passion for life. To love and to be loved, to go beyond survival and to embrace life to its fullest–these are the primal drives of the heart that allow us to continue, even in the face of all opposition. These feelings have become suppressed in so many humans that the passion of primal, loving instinct has almost come to extinction in many sophisticated nations. Some call this passion animalistic. The Ancestors called it the Force behind Divine Creation. Today’s pilgrims on life’s road can choose to give it another name–love.”

Jamie Sams – “Earth Medicine, Ancestors’ Ways of Harmony for Many Moons”

More and more, as life allows me I find myself flowing passionately, openly and with the inspiration of that part of myself most unashamed of the primal. It’s a flow that can reach into every relationship where the receptors are less fear/control inhibited. I can think of a few, only a few, with the appetite for unhindered preciousness and that fact alone is grievous. But what a wealth is found with just one or two. What we lose in our childhood of our capacity to unabashedly revel in the pleasure of relating, of loving we must eagerly, unrelentingly seek to revive or even to call forth for the first time. It is the most rewarding, rejuvenating elixir supreme. And I mean something beyond the mere perfunctory hugs between friends and family. I mean something beyond the routine routes of affection. We are capable of so much more.

We can find it in the most basic moments, opening the heart wide and the hands fully towards those we love. We forget how hugely the heart can resonate, respond and revive until life graces us with the gift of experience. Something as simple as a moment with a son who is still unashamed of his capacity to cuddle, to love, to need, one moment opens a door and the heart sings. Just last night my youngest needed my presence just long enough to pass out at bedtime. I rested there next to him on his tiny bed and he said “Face….” and touched mine… “Face….” He was sleepy but couldn’t pass out without face. Up to that point, I was barely functioning, my exhaustion wrapping me up tight in bonds of severe fatigue, every part of me tense with that effort to simply avoid collapse. “Face…” and every part of me sighed, remembering to breathe into the fatigue, remembering to be something other than an effort to stand. I felt my heart grow larger with just one word. His hand on mine then mine on his and then his hand on my hand on his face. Then jerking awake every time his hand falls away from that contact. This won’t do. So what do you do? You get the child to lie on his side and his face is fully cupped by your hands and his arms fall freely as he floats into sleep and you rest there on little twin bed. Face. Hands. Rest. Heart sighing in great gulps of fresh air.

Ah but no. He should grow up strong and brave and able to fall asleep alone. Right? No. Maslow says our capacities clamor and do not cease their clamoring until we find an outlet for their needful expression. And what of capacity? How deeply does it run beneath the surface we’ve accepted as good enough? In every area of our lives, as parents, as friends, as lovers, as artists, as writers, as healthcare workers, as whatever role or expression we reside…this savage inspiration needs to guide. Where would I be without calls that end so beautifully and passionately in “I sooo love you!!”? When the cynicism and toughness is stripped away, these are the friends who come calling, who grace our lives with passion, hope and expressiveness. When the fear and reaction-based routines melt away, these are the hands-full moments that fill up our hearts.

And all we need to do is change the pattern, open the door a bit wider and let love in.

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