SOMETIMES, SOMETIMES ...

Found this over at Stacey Ann Chin's site. There's nothing like a sister that just know's how to just "Be."

An entry from her blog ...
I have ten minutes the record the blur of voices chorus blending in my head. Today I am certain of who I am. More certain of the woman I wish to be. I am so happy it is warming up. My spirit has carried winter for far too long.

Sometimes you don't be knowing the reason the universe is pushing at you. It is good when you finally decide to stop pushing back. Sometimes you have to move an inch downstream, to push a yard up.

It is warm. I am drinking peach iced tea. The world is not perfect, but I belong to the group trying to make it better. Some days that has to be enough. Somedays you cannot dance with the dark flick of insanity. Sometimes the view is good without the rose tinted glasses.

I hear you, Ms. Stacey.

Yesterday, I needed to touch the Mother. I needed her to tell me that it's gon' be aiight even though all outward measures appear that I should not have left my full time gig. You know how it is when you take a leap of faith. Those bills that you thought just "disappeared" somehow make a miraculous recovery. So needless to say I'm checking the caller i.d. before i answer the phone. The other thing is, people just seem to come out of the woodwork when they know you're *only* working fpart time. Excuse me, but who said I'm only working part time? I have two kids under the age of seven. Therefore, regardless of my employment status, I am still working full time. My sister wants to know if I can keep her two kids while she goes off to Puerto Rico for a week. Right. I have a 750 page novel that I need to revise and cut in less than half, two kids who are constantly following me around the house, major yard work to do, lavendar and tomatoes to plant, Kid #1's ballet recital is the 24th, my good friend S is getting married in June, my poems and short stories need to be edited so I can get it all over to Kinko's to be put in book form (remember the chapbook??) .... need I go on? So I'm exercising my right to say, No I can't help you. Too many things to do. And then there's the nagging thought that comes and goes "Do you really know where you're going with this novel?" "When are you EVER going to be done?" "Don't you know that So-And-So just got a book deal for her third book and you're STILL working on this same one that you've been on for the past two years." "Give it up. You've got two kids to raise." I don't know where the thoughts come from but they come. They came yesterday. And that's why I knew it was time to talk to Mother.

I am talking about Gaia, Mother Earth. I needed to touch her, feel her in my palms. I needed her to remind me that the novel is already done, it just needs a little tweaking. I needed her to tell remind me that all is well and that you don't get the life you want, you get the life you need. I needed her to remind me that all things come in right time, due time and though it may feel like progress is slow, it is happening according to the Master Plan. So I went and got my hoe and my trowel and my wheelbarrow and headed off to the side of my house, where some serious de-weeding was in order. I raised the hoe high above my head, brought it down with force right into the center of a thick patch of overgrown grass and wild weeds. I raised it again and CHOP! again...CHOP!...again CHOP! The breaths came quick, a thin film of sweat collected above my brows. I raised it again....CHOP! The feeling was addictive. I reached down, picked up what had been chopped and hurled it over my shoulder into my wheelbarrow. CHOP! And then I discovered some leaves, curled and brown, nestled in betwen the branches of my azaleas (which I don't particularly care for but the previous owner planted them and I don't yet have the strength to pull them up). I crouched low and pulled loose the leaves and threw them too into the wheelbarrow. And then I saw some dandelions (my least favorite of all weeds...they are so ugly). I positioned my trowel and dug them up with every bit of force I could muster. After about an hour I had a nice long, clear patch of space in which I can now plant some bulbs, some impatiens....whatever I want. The space is clear. I thanked Mother for letting me experience this land, the beautiful row of trees that line my backyard, that give me privacy, so much so that I could walk on my patio naked and not a soul would know. I thanked Mother for these trees that give me and my little ones oxygen. And I thanked Father, who gives me work so that I can afford this space.

And then, before I knew it, Mother started whispering something to me as I stood back admiring all this empty available space, ready for me to fill with colorful plants. She said, You see, this is much like your novel. There are weeds, dandelions, leaves, rocks and some hard, hard dirt that seriously needs to be turned. There is work to do .... much, much work. You have to pull them, dig them .... you have to lift and haul and turn. But underneath there is still a story. The story I gave you in your heart. It is there. It is valid. It is good. Work it. Go back to it and do the work you need to do. The story is there. It just needs a little de-weeding. So roll up your sleeves and get back to work. Nothing worth having comes easy. I didn't create you to be satisfied with little. I created you better than that. You will know when it's done. Just as you know your work here, today, is done. Trust me. Just trust. Don't worry about the How. Your job is just to Do. And to Trust. And to raise those kids the best you can. You're not Superwoman. You can't do everything for everybody. Father and I don't expect you to. Only you expect that. Raise those kids and keep at the work I gave you to do. Don't exchange one for the other or you'll go insane. Just keep going. I'll protect you. I'll sustain you.

So, I've worked this weekend ... both for money and for pleasure. It's back to the novel tomorrow.

Be well. Be Love(d).

ANGEL