Centered

When you were about 3, I was looking at a painting and saying how pretty it was. You apparently didn't agree. You looked at me and said, "You like it, but I don't." There wasn't any tension in this observation. We didn't have have the same opinion. What struck me was, at 3, you had a strong connection to your own sensibility and didn't need outside confirmation or agreement. At that moment, I heaved a sigh of relief. I would not have to worry that you would be manipulated by someone else's agenda. You are no lemming.

You are quite able to discern your own likes and dislikes. You don't care what others think about it. You aren't influenced by others' input. I have seen you consider input from others when it comes to some decision-making. Or update your opinion based on new data. But you don't change your opinion simply to please someone else. You may compromise on a group decision, but it doesn't mean that your perspective has changed. This is an important source of stregth; you ability to stay centered. I admire it in you every day.

You are named after the Welsh goddess Rhianna. She is tricked into doubting herself and accepting painful punishment. She regains her majesty when she realizes that she should not have doubted herself. You are a living reminder of the power of self-assurance. An inspiration for us all.

Discernment

When you were an infant people called you shy. You didn't like strangers to come too close, too quickly. You would bury yourself in my shoulder, as if asking for protection. Most often, this need for space didn't last long. You would take some time to observe the person and then you would open up. Unless it was a man with a beard. You were at least 3 years old before you would go near your Uncle Richard, one of the most kind and gentle people on the planet. It became clear that you were trying to learn something before you let people into your space. Apparently, not being able to see all of someone's face, especially the mouth, inhibited your process. But I would not say that you were shy. Once you had a sense of someone, you would engage quite warmly. Even strangers in a check out line might get a hug. But some people you might not warm up to. Most often, I could see why. They were brusque or brooding, usually. What I saw was an intuitive sense of discernment. I was inspired by your ability to trust your own sense and not be swayed by others saying, "He's a nice guy!" These were early inklings of your brand of wisdom. As a mother, I was comforted. I sensed your own ability to protect yourself and you demonstrated this clearly when you were just shy of one year old.

I took you to a conference with me. The conference was in a local hotel and we went with a few people for lunch in the restaurant/bar. They didn't have a high chair, so I sat you on the floor next to me with a couple of your toys and you were contentedly playing. Content until a man came along and reached out for you. You immediately began to cry out. He was surprised at your natural ability to get my attention. It turned out he was testing us. He had been concerned that you were susceptible to a stranger walking off with you. I suppose some babies might be fine with a stranger picking them up and cooing to them. They might find it more comforting that playing alone. But you did not trust this strange person and you would not go quietly. You used the only self-defense system you had: your voice. He was so impressed that he gave you his lucky coin: an antique silver dollar. I'll hold it for you until you are ready to hold on to it as a reminder of your gift of discernment.

First Impression

Early on a Friday morning, February 19th, 1999, I had a dream. I was seeking the perfect pair of golden shoes. The ones I sought were no ordinary shoes. I didn't know what they should like like or why I was seeking them, but I knew that I was to have them and I would know them when I saw them. I searched through many stores and outdoor gatherings of merchants. It seemed as though I was searching the entire globe to no avail. Exhausted, I walked into a small place. A parlor? There were two rooms. Both were decorated with red velvet and gold trim. Rich, but not ostentatious. In the anteroom was a luxurious divan. Through a curtain of crystal beads was a second room with a wall full of golden shoes. I was in the right place and I was so tired. I lay down on the divan and went to sleep. I awoke with a beautiful, dark-haired woman caressing my face and saying, "Rest, my dear, you're pregnant." Never had I felt so content and so sure that I was in the right place. First for the first time in my life, I felt at peace. It was you. You are my golden shoes.

Why

Several different conversations and one internal line of thought have spawned the idea for this blog.

First and foremost, the inspiration for this is my daughter. Since her birth, 7.5 years ago, I've had a desire to leave her a piece of writing. I might live to be one hundred. I might have a fatal accident tomorrow. Either way, I want to leave her something that she can turn to again and again which assures her that she was very much loved, admired and appreciated by her mother. Why I feel so strongly about this is another piece of writing. Suffice it say that this is for my daughter.

I've been having a conversation with a friend over the last few months. We've been talking about how one bad moment can make us feel like an entire day is rotten. There could have been hundreds of other neutral or perfectly wonderful moments, but the day is defined by this one negatively charged experience. It's difficult to keep it in balance. Part of the goal here is to redirect our attention to the positive moments.

In an online conversation with an acquaintance, we'd been exchanging our grievances about politicians and celebrities and how abysmal our leadership examples are. I was an avid participant, moaning about the stupid thing this person did or the horrendous things that another has done. In the end, I felt myself being sucked into a vortex where you spend all your time looking for things to complain about. Now, don't get me wrong, I thoroughly believe in calling destructive behaviors for what they are. Silence can be deadly. However, I also feel that if we want to make a better world, we need to focus even more energy on highlighting that which is good. We need to seek and promote inspirational action and stop giving all our energy to the complaining. So, another goal here is to offer a window into hope by seeking out inspirational leadership models and putting them forth as an alternative to that which we feel needs to be replaced.

Lastly, I re-read "The Plague" by Camus recently. I was struck by the following passage:

“In normal times all of us know, whether consciously or not, that there is no love which can’t be bettered; nevertheless, we reconcile ourselves more or less easily to the fact that ours has never risen above the average. But memory is less disposed to compromise.”

The narrator was speaking of regrets experienced by lovers upon reflection of themselves during an imposed separation. One can easily apply this to self-reflection in general. Often, we are not so kind to ourselves in retrospect. We remember our fumbles and stumbles and aches and pains. It can be hard to remember our triumphs, joy and grace. My hope for this blog is that my daughter has at least one place to turn to when she needs to be reminded that she is more light than dark, has known joy, as well as, sadness and has given as much to others as she has needed in return. And, if others join me in this endeavor, she will be reminded of others who grace this planet that she can look to for inspiration.

May the universe provide.....

To Admire

From Merriam-Webster:

Main Entry: ad·mire
Pronunciation: &d-'mI(-&)r
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): ad·mired; ad·mir·ing
Etymology: Middle French admirer, to marvel at, from Latin admirari, from ad- + mirari to wonder, from mirus astonishing
transitive verb
1 : to regard with admiration
2 archaic : to marvel at