I recently received a call from a company hoping to contact with our school's afterschool programs, teaching basic physical games and play skills. Wait, what? Play skills, seriously? Are we in so much danger as a society, after over-scheduling and over-analyzing our kids that we now have to teach them to play???
My daughter has several friends who are in therapy right now, learning how to handle all the stress in their lives. Stress? They are eleven. Eleven, my friends. Instead of scheduling them to see the therapist, maybe they ought to think about taking a few things off the kids' plates. When did it become necessary to apply for high schools, when here I thought it was a required part of growing up? And when did it become necessary to go into Middle School speaking foreign languages, being able to play an instrument, having already taken your PSATs and having an entire future already planned out. Kindergarteners should NOT be thinking about where they will go to college, people.
So, now we're realizing that something is wrong and there is a basic need not being met, and we're filling the gap by teaching organized classes in how to play? Whatever happened to just plain fooling around? Going outside with friends, siblings,...parents. Throwing a ball around, squirting a garden hose, building a fort that will never get finished, building mudpies, playing ball in someone's backyard? Mistakes are how we learn, as human beings. We're hardwired to profit from messing up. Having someone teach you how to correct social skills step-by-step is not learning.
So, I do not have a degree in psychology or sociology. I've spent 1/3 of my life working with kids and am raising two children of my own. Not exactly stellar qualifications, but I think I know the answer. It's stunning, and probably will need much research (said with eye rolling, of course). Here it is:
Turn off the cell phones. Turn off the tv. Go outside. Get out of the car. Get out of the drive through. Cancel the ballet lessons, the French lessons, the hip hop class and the karate. Take the kids out of Kumon and out of Sylvan for the afternoon. Go to the park. Go to the skating rink. Go to the beach. Make dinner together. Build a treehouse. Ride your bikes. Read a book together. Cancel the pre-planned playdates, and go meet your neighbors instead.
That's all. It's not high tech. It's not supported by research. It's not even a developed plan. But I can guarantee you that stress levels would drop and play would be found.
Go fool around.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
In Memory of a Storyteller
In searching for a Shakespeare quote tonight, I happened across a quote by Madeleine L'Engle, who just happens to be my favorite author of all time. Yes, I've said it....while I am quite wowed by the Bronte sisters, love to be seduced by Tolstoy and Ayn Rand, and dozens of others, it's this one woman to whom I owe so much. And in finding this quote, I am mourning again the loss of such a fabulous life.
I never thought that I would be so impressed with a person I have never met, but there you are. From the first time I read A Wrinkle in Time, to the moment I picked up Glimpses of Grace, I have been enraptured by a woman who saw the world through both the wide eyes of a child and the wisdom of several generations. She was the first person who made me see the possibility of science and religion living in harmony.
Madeline L'Engle wrote about crazy aunts and angels, dolphins and John Donne, mitochondria and sibling rivalry. She addressed my soul, made me question my faith, and helped me to accept my own humanity, all through her writing.
When we lost power last Fall, and my family lived without power for two weeks, following Hurricane Ike, my children and I passed the evenings reading Many Waters by candlelight. What a wonderful story that gave me the gift of talking to my children about choosing right from wrong, and the battle between what are simply the forces of good and of evil. Her stories were never just stories, but rather a way to open conversation. You could never read one of her many layered children's stories without asking yourself some pretty serious questions.
I was only five when my brother first read A Wrinkle in Time to me. I can still remember the voices he used, the personalities he gave to Mrs. Who and Mrs. Which. WHen I read that story today, I can still hear his voice and I am connected to the child I used to be.
I can mark the stages of my life by the books I have read. Madeleine L'Engle has been my constant, the stories I return to again and again, and the author who has grown even as I have grown too.
The world misses her voice, her humor, and her humanity. I only wish that I could have thanked her.
I never thought that I would be so impressed with a person I have never met, but there you are. From the first time I read A Wrinkle in Time, to the moment I picked up Glimpses of Grace, I have been enraptured by a woman who saw the world through both the wide eyes of a child and the wisdom of several generations. She was the first person who made me see the possibility of science and religion living in harmony.
Madeline L'Engle wrote about crazy aunts and angels, dolphins and John Donne, mitochondria and sibling rivalry. She addressed my soul, made me question my faith, and helped me to accept my own humanity, all through her writing.
When we lost power last Fall, and my family lived without power for two weeks, following Hurricane Ike, my children and I passed the evenings reading Many Waters by candlelight. What a wonderful story that gave me the gift of talking to my children about choosing right from wrong, and the battle between what are simply the forces of good and of evil. Her stories were never just stories, but rather a way to open conversation. You could never read one of her many layered children's stories without asking yourself some pretty serious questions.
I was only five when my brother first read A Wrinkle in Time to me. I can still remember the voices he used, the personalities he gave to Mrs. Who and Mrs. Which. WHen I read that story today, I can still hear his voice and I am connected to the child I used to be.
I can mark the stages of my life by the books I have read. Madeleine L'Engle has been my constant, the stories I return to again and again, and the author who has grown even as I have grown too.
The world misses her voice, her humor, and her humanity. I only wish that I could have thanked her.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
well that sucks
Hmm...so what is with all the vampires in the media? Blood sucking seems to have taken over the bookstores and television. From Twilight to TrueBlood women everywhere seem to be saying "bite me, baby." I have very level-headed friends who are losing themselves in the fantasy of losing their immortal souls. Think about that...giving up your immortal soul for some really great sex. OK, so some days that would sound like a decent bargain. I mean, when was the last time I had even good sex, never mind the mindblowing vampire sex we've all been exposed to in the last few years.
Whatever happened to Nesferatu, the frightening blood drinker of the early 20th century lore? When exactly did he fall by the wayside for pale pouty teens promising forever.
So, I'm fascinated. What is it that drives millions, no probably billions, of women to fantasize and invest in the fantasy? Is it the promise of forever? Is it the idea of staying young for eternity? Is it the idea that seems so prevalent in today's vampire stories of a love that never ends? I see a common thread among the most popular - vampires who have been killers, not the best of men, but those who strive to be better and women who give them a reason to BE better, to be more human. And for the women of the stories, a man whose passion is barely restrained. A man who feels compelled to give them everything. A man who is a killer by nature, but will protect the to the death. To the very death of their souls.
OK, so I have a theory (and yeah, it's probably a drunken theory tonight), but we live in a society of very enlightened masculinity. It's OK to have feelings and to express them, but our natures have not changed. Women want, on a very deep level, to be owned and taken care of. So are we turning to vampires when the men of today, who do not need to hunt and kill, are not meeting our very base needs? Weird. What are we evolving IN to?????h
Whatever happened to Nesferatu, the frightening blood drinker of the early 20th century lore? When exactly did he fall by the wayside for pale pouty teens promising forever.
So, I'm fascinated. What is it that drives millions, no probably billions, of women to fantasize and invest in the fantasy? Is it the promise of forever? Is it the idea of staying young for eternity? Is it the idea that seems so prevalent in today's vampire stories of a love that never ends? I see a common thread among the most popular - vampires who have been killers, not the best of men, but those who strive to be better and women who give them a reason to BE better, to be more human. And for the women of the stories, a man whose passion is barely restrained. A man who feels compelled to give them everything. A man who is a killer by nature, but will protect the to the death. To the very death of their souls.
OK, so I have a theory (and yeah, it's probably a drunken theory tonight), but we live in a society of very enlightened masculinity. It's OK to have feelings and to express them, but our natures have not changed. Women want, on a very deep level, to be owned and taken care of. So are we turning to vampires when the men of today, who do not need to hunt and kill, are not meeting our very base needs? Weird. What are we evolving IN to?????h
Saturday, August 8, 2009
my life as a taxi driver
At some point in the last six months, I have taken on a new job. There is no pay. There is no glory. There are no thank yous. Most days there are just lots of complaints. My new job involves shuttling my children around town, whenever and wherever their busy schedules demand. I've learned a few things about them, about myself and about getting organized that I never would have learned any other way, I suppose.
1. Carry a book with you everywhere. Sitting in the Planet Funk studio trying to tune out the pounding beat of the Black Eyed Peas is a whole lot easier when you have a good book to read. Waiting in the car for sports practice to end goes a lot better when you're in the middle of a good story. Or even a bad story. I've reached the point where I'll read almost anything.
2. Know where to find the bathrooms. When you only have 15 minutes to run a quick errand between the drop off and the pick up, you don't want to waste precious time looking for the restrooms. Scope those out first, everywhere you go.
3. No matter how good my intentions, no matter how complete my understanding of the importance of good nutrition for growing children, we WILL eat a meal from a drive through at least once a week. At least I know that the burrito from Taco Cabana will be eaten, whereas the yummy homemade chick pea patties will simply be poked and pushed around their plates. And I won't have a bunch of dirty dishes and some mom cussing going on after a late night soccer practice.
4. I will get lost. Despite mapquest, GPS in my phone and carefully looking up the directions before we leave the house, I will at some point need to do some quick turn arounds and yell, "stop talking and LOOK for it."
5. Everything in life now requires a bottle of water. Dance class - bring a bottle of water. Volleyball - bring a bottle of water. Writer's workshop - bring a bottle of water. Swim practice - bring a bottle of water. I grew up with someone pointing me toward a rusty garden hose. All that time as a kid, and I never knew just how close I was to dehydration at every moment.
6. I can work from anywhere. Vacation, driving down I-10 at 75 miles an hour, sitting at a softball game...doesn't matter. Through the miracle of modern technology I can now be reached any time of the day or night, in any location around the globe. I can text, e-mail, and phone anyone. I fixed payroll problems while standing in a hallway at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Offices are becoming obsolete. So is personal time.
7. This will all end way too soon. I remind myself daily that these are just a few short years out of my life, and it won't be long before they don't need me. I'll just look for good deals on gas until this too passes.
1. Carry a book with you everywhere. Sitting in the Planet Funk studio trying to tune out the pounding beat of the Black Eyed Peas is a whole lot easier when you have a good book to read. Waiting in the car for sports practice to end goes a lot better when you're in the middle of a good story. Or even a bad story. I've reached the point where I'll read almost anything.
2. Know where to find the bathrooms. When you only have 15 minutes to run a quick errand between the drop off and the pick up, you don't want to waste precious time looking for the restrooms. Scope those out first, everywhere you go.
3. No matter how good my intentions, no matter how complete my understanding of the importance of good nutrition for growing children, we WILL eat a meal from a drive through at least once a week. At least I know that the burrito from Taco Cabana will be eaten, whereas the yummy homemade chick pea patties will simply be poked and pushed around their plates. And I won't have a bunch of dirty dishes and some mom cussing going on after a late night soccer practice.
4. I will get lost. Despite mapquest, GPS in my phone and carefully looking up the directions before we leave the house, I will at some point need to do some quick turn arounds and yell, "stop talking and LOOK for it."
5. Everything in life now requires a bottle of water. Dance class - bring a bottle of water. Volleyball - bring a bottle of water. Writer's workshop - bring a bottle of water. Swim practice - bring a bottle of water. I grew up with someone pointing me toward a rusty garden hose. All that time as a kid, and I never knew just how close I was to dehydration at every moment.
6. I can work from anywhere. Vacation, driving down I-10 at 75 miles an hour, sitting at a softball game...doesn't matter. Through the miracle of modern technology I can now be reached any time of the day or night, in any location around the globe. I can text, e-mail, and phone anyone. I fixed payroll problems while standing in a hallway at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Offices are becoming obsolete. So is personal time.
7. This will all end way too soon. I remind myself daily that these are just a few short years out of my life, and it won't be long before they don't need me. I'll just look for good deals on gas until this too passes.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
frightening
So, forget the "death-ray," as I have now experienced being on the receiving end of the "death-glare." Hell hath no fury like an adolescent whose phone has been taken away. Yesterday Katie pulled some serious attitude, resulting in loss of cell phone rights. As I tell her frequently, she does not live in a democratic household, this is a kingdom and I am the QUEEN. And I reserve the right at any and all times to strip her of weapons and heraldry leaving her shivering and without electronics, as it may be.
I watched her go through the 5 stages of grief (when dealing with social connection loss, that is). Denial: "No. Wait. What did you say?"
Anger: "You can't do that. I won't LET you do that. No!" (said while clutching said phone to chest)
Bargaining: "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Can I be grounded instead?"
Depression: No words to go with this one. Just a quivering lip and lots of tears.
Acceptance: "When can I have it back?"
The worst part of it wasn't the daggers digging into my skull all the way back home. No, that I was able to live through (although looking in the rearview mirror was not a happy thing). It was the fact that this is just the tip of the iceburg.
I've been there, I mean I've so been the person hating my mother. But at that moment, I realized, she actually hated me. My own daughter was loathing me, seething, wishing I would fall off the face of the earth. She was probably calling me a bitch under her breath. I saw it all, despite the fact that I was just getting "the look." I've been there.
The circle of parenthood is complete. And it sucks.
I am scared.
I watched her go through the 5 stages of grief (when dealing with social connection loss, that is). Denial: "No. Wait. What did you say?"
Anger: "You can't do that. I won't LET you do that. No!" (said while clutching said phone to chest)
Bargaining: "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Can I be grounded instead?"
Depression: No words to go with this one. Just a quivering lip and lots of tears.
Acceptance: "When can I have it back?"
The worst part of it wasn't the daggers digging into my skull all the way back home. No, that I was able to live through (although looking in the rearview mirror was not a happy thing). It was the fact that this is just the tip of the iceburg.
I've been there, I mean I've so been the person hating my mother. But at that moment, I realized, she actually hated me. My own daughter was loathing me, seething, wishing I would fall off the face of the earth. She was probably calling me a bitch under her breath. I saw it all, despite the fact that I was just getting "the look." I've been there.
The circle of parenthood is complete. And it sucks.
I am scared.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
calendars
I realized, as another school year is about to start, that I have lived my whole life based on a calendar that runs from August through July, rather than January through December. First as a student, then as a teacher, and now as a part of school staff, I have based my entire life on the academic calendar. How strange to think of life in a different world, where time is measured in other ways.
OK, so it's not such a major thing. But I guess that this all came to light after talking with a high school friend recently. My life has turned out so different from how I thought it would be...not in a bad way, but just so very different from the life I had envisioned for myself. Through the magic of Facebook, I've hooked up with many faces and names from the past, and it's forced me to look at who I am and who I have become through interacting with them. So many of them are doing exactly what they set out to do in life...following some incredible plan. Me? I feel like I am often swept along with the tide, and drift where it might take me. I drifted into marriage, floated from college major to college major, and fell into teaching. It's the first landing that stuck, and made sense to me.
I can't help but wonder how some of us know from the beginning what we want to do with our lives, and others figure it out as time goes by. My friends who go by their January to December calendars and have had it all figured out from the beginning, well, sometimes I get jealous of them. They knew who they were from the time that they were born. I'm still figuring it out.
So, if I flow through life hanging on semester by semester, maybe it's these small chunks of time that can make sense to me. On the other hand, what a wonderful way to live - unlike those whose jobs are 12 months a year, I get a chance to start over once every year. To reinvent what I do, and how I'm going to do it. And in doing so, I get to reinvent myself. Wow.
OK, so it's not such a major thing. But I guess that this all came to light after talking with a high school friend recently. My life has turned out so different from how I thought it would be...not in a bad way, but just so very different from the life I had envisioned for myself. Through the magic of Facebook, I've hooked up with many faces and names from the past, and it's forced me to look at who I am and who I have become through interacting with them. So many of them are doing exactly what they set out to do in life...following some incredible plan. Me? I feel like I am often swept along with the tide, and drift where it might take me. I drifted into marriage, floated from college major to college major, and fell into teaching. It's the first landing that stuck, and made sense to me.
I can't help but wonder how some of us know from the beginning what we want to do with our lives, and others figure it out as time goes by. My friends who go by their January to December calendars and have had it all figured out from the beginning, well, sometimes I get jealous of them. They knew who they were from the time that they were born. I'm still figuring it out.
So, if I flow through life hanging on semester by semester, maybe it's these small chunks of time that can make sense to me. On the other hand, what a wonderful way to live - unlike those whose jobs are 12 months a year, I get a chance to start over once every year. To reinvent what I do, and how I'm going to do it. And in doing so, I get to reinvent myself. Wow.
Monday, July 27, 2009
birthday blessings
Today Elizabeth turned nine. It's difficult when I look at this half-grown girl not to see all the children she was before to me. I still see the shadow of the little one who wore her favorite Bob the Builder shirt every day to school. Or the four year old who requested to have her hair cut into a buzz cut, so she could be just like her best friend Robbie. The Star Wars fanatic who wouldn't wear pink, thus eliminating most of the hand-me-downs in her closet. The stubborn child who has ever refused to hold my hand for any reason other than affection, the child who takes her time and the world be damned, the child who seemed born knowing how to stand up for what she believes. And someone who is possibly the happiest person I have ever met. While the rest of the world broods, Elizabeth sings. Elizabeth, who was born Erin, but decided that she wanted a different name and sticks stubbornly by that decision.
Happy Birthday, Elizabeth. I hope she's just as happy these next nine years.
Happy Birthday, Elizabeth. I hope she's just as happy these next nine years.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
offspring
Some mornings I wake up, and momentarily I forget where and when I am. On those mornings, it comes as such a shock to have my children walk up and call me "mom." I have one of those split second panics, as in "oh my god, someone thought I should be raising children?" It's the same panic I felt holding Katie in the hospital, and wondering how they could possibly just let me walk out with this innocent life. She didn't even come with directions. I can't make toast without burning it; how was I supposed to ever keep her safe?
But I brought her home, lived through that first afternoon. Set her down in the crib, and thought, "what now?" But she and I lived through it together, and we taught each other what to do next. I taught her how to blow spit bubbles, she taught me how to make it through a week on 2 hours of sleep and do it with a smile. All because I was so glad to be her mother, so completely in awe of this unbelievably special person I had out on loan.
It must have been a pretty good first 18 months, because that's when I found out I was pregnant with my second child. Katie started Mother's Day Out, right about the time I started growing daughter number two. By that point I was feeling pretty good about my ability to take care of one child and, well, I never did like to pass up a challenge. Child number two came home without incident, for about 8 months. Then I learned two new words - sibling rivalry. But all-in-all, it's been a great ride these last 11 years, 2 months, and 21 days.
Today I realized that I'm right back on that shaky ground again. I've spent 4100 days getting to know this person who grew inside of me, only to find a stranger staring back this morning. This gawky girl wearing a Twilight t-shirt, Converse tennis shoes with no socks, hands on hips, eyebrows raised, saying, "you're not going to wear that are you?" All the time I have invested, the books we've read, the songs we used to sing, the nights I rocked her to sleep, played Candyland...none of it means a thing to this stranger in my daughter's room. Suddenly I'm just wrong, like, all the time, you know? We're having to do the same dance we did the day I brought my baby home - at the time my dance revolved around, "do I pick her up right away, or let her start to fuss?" Now it's more like a tango with a porcupine, but the principle remains the same. "Do I step in and try to help, or let her work it out on her own?" She doesn't care. She's too busy texting all her friends to even notice.
Oh, I have no doubt that we'll find some middle ground and get another comfortable routine. But I'm scared of the stranger who will show up next, and oh god, I guess that one will probably want keys to my car. All I can do now is hope that enough of the invested time sinks in that the eye-rolling teenager in my immediate future makes some half-way decent decisions. While I'm waiting, I guess I'll practice taking out the spark plugs - just in case.
But I brought her home, lived through that first afternoon. Set her down in the crib, and thought, "what now?" But she and I lived through it together, and we taught each other what to do next. I taught her how to blow spit bubbles, she taught me how to make it through a week on 2 hours of sleep and do it with a smile. All because I was so glad to be her mother, so completely in awe of this unbelievably special person I had out on loan.
It must have been a pretty good first 18 months, because that's when I found out I was pregnant with my second child. Katie started Mother's Day Out, right about the time I started growing daughter number two. By that point I was feeling pretty good about my ability to take care of one child and, well, I never did like to pass up a challenge. Child number two came home without incident, for about 8 months. Then I learned two new words - sibling rivalry. But all-in-all, it's been a great ride these last 11 years, 2 months, and 21 days.
Today I realized that I'm right back on that shaky ground again. I've spent 4100 days getting to know this person who grew inside of me, only to find a stranger staring back this morning. This gawky girl wearing a Twilight t-shirt, Converse tennis shoes with no socks, hands on hips, eyebrows raised, saying, "you're not going to wear that are you?" All the time I have invested, the books we've read, the songs we used to sing, the nights I rocked her to sleep, played Candyland...none of it means a thing to this stranger in my daughter's room. Suddenly I'm just wrong, like, all the time, you know? We're having to do the same dance we did the day I brought my baby home - at the time my dance revolved around, "do I pick her up right away, or let her start to fuss?" Now it's more like a tango with a porcupine, but the principle remains the same. "Do I step in and try to help, or let her work it out on her own?" She doesn't care. She's too busy texting all her friends to even notice.
Oh, I have no doubt that we'll find some middle ground and get another comfortable routine. But I'm scared of the stranger who will show up next, and oh god, I guess that one will probably want keys to my car. All I can do now is hope that enough of the invested time sinks in that the eye-rolling teenager in my immediate future makes some half-way decent decisions. While I'm waiting, I guess I'll practice taking out the spark plugs - just in case.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
traffic jam
traffic at a sudden standstill
frozen on the freeway
car's just about to stall
just like my crazy life
frozen in my own roles
going nowhere fast at all
time ticks by; minute by minute,
hour by long drawn hour
all alone in a traffic jam
year by year, decade by decade
mistake by crazy mistake
brings me closer to who I am
looking in my rearview mirror
worn eyes looking back at me
watching how or what I see
looking at nothing happening
no movement, no breath, no wind
caught up in the great ennui
traffic's creeping slowly forward
past the scene of a burned out car
ambulance racing to the pile of ash
my own accident lies in ahead
hindsight failing as I race around the curve
bracing for the massive crash
frozen on the freeway
car's just about to stall
just like my crazy life
frozen in my own roles
going nowhere fast at all
time ticks by; minute by minute,
hour by long drawn hour
all alone in a traffic jam
year by year, decade by decade
mistake by crazy mistake
brings me closer to who I am
looking in my rearview mirror
worn eyes looking back at me
watching how or what I see
looking at nothing happening
no movement, no breath, no wind
caught up in the great ennui
traffic's creeping slowly forward
past the scene of a burned out car
ambulance racing to the pile of ash
my own accident lies in ahead
hindsight failing as I race around the curve
bracing for the massive crash
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Spring Awakenings
Maybe it's growing up in the Northeast, when Spring is such a true awakening of the world, but every year I suffer from Spring Fever. Or, perhaps I should not say that I suffer so much as that my friends and family suffer through my bouts of Spring. There is something about the world coming awake that wakens a restlessness within me as well, creating a feeling that is almost feral in its intensity.
Spring Break, with all its implied celebration has passed by, and I have spent it dutifully cleaning my home, doing homework, taking care of a sick child, and all the myriad duties that are a part of my daily life. And so, as my week of semi-freedom draws to a close, I am left here, waiting for Spring to begin. Within my own body, the quickening of rushing waters and blooming flowers has begun. Time waits for no one, and as I am another year older, I feel the pull of the Vernal Equinox even more strongly than ever before.
I have read of Wiccan celebrations where participants rush out to dance naked in the moonlight, celebrating the earth. Today it sounds like a good idea. I would love to dance beneath the moonlight, naked as the day I came into this world, the dew wet grass crushing beneath my feet and the wind brushing against my aging skin. But then again, what would the neighbors think?
If I cannot dance naked in the moonlight, then let me dance clothed in the rain. To feel the cool spring rain on my skin, washing away the weight of the past year. To feel unfettered by convention, by walking without an umbrella, or even shoes. To laugh like my children, and stomp gaily through a puddle. Forget about the threat of acid rain - I want to catch raindrops on my tongue this Spring.
What is it about the Spring? What makes this the time of year when life seems to pulse within me? I am almost too much for my skin to contain. Like a caterpillar wriggling and about to split down the middle, shedding old skin, I wriggle and wait. What will my new skin be this year? Often I imagine I will reinvent myself like a caterpillar, find the butterfly within. But instead, I find that I shed my skin to reveal another skin just like the one before. Every stripe and hair is the same, and nothing has changed. And yet, come Spring, I feel the need to shed again. To wriggle, to dance naked under the moonlight, to howl and run and cavort. To dance in the rain.
Spring Break, with all its implied celebration has passed by, and I have spent it dutifully cleaning my home, doing homework, taking care of a sick child, and all the myriad duties that are a part of my daily life. And so, as my week of semi-freedom draws to a close, I am left here, waiting for Spring to begin. Within my own body, the quickening of rushing waters and blooming flowers has begun. Time waits for no one, and as I am another year older, I feel the pull of the Vernal Equinox even more strongly than ever before.
I have read of Wiccan celebrations where participants rush out to dance naked in the moonlight, celebrating the earth. Today it sounds like a good idea. I would love to dance beneath the moonlight, naked as the day I came into this world, the dew wet grass crushing beneath my feet and the wind brushing against my aging skin. But then again, what would the neighbors think?
If I cannot dance naked in the moonlight, then let me dance clothed in the rain. To feel the cool spring rain on my skin, washing away the weight of the past year. To feel unfettered by convention, by walking without an umbrella, or even shoes. To laugh like my children, and stomp gaily through a puddle. Forget about the threat of acid rain - I want to catch raindrops on my tongue this Spring.
What is it about the Spring? What makes this the time of year when life seems to pulse within me? I am almost too much for my skin to contain. Like a caterpillar wriggling and about to split down the middle, shedding old skin, I wriggle and wait. What will my new skin be this year? Often I imagine I will reinvent myself like a caterpillar, find the butterfly within. But instead, I find that I shed my skin to reveal another skin just like the one before. Every stripe and hair is the same, and nothing has changed. And yet, come Spring, I feel the need to shed again. To wriggle, to dance naked under the moonlight, to howl and run and cavort. To dance in the rain.
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