My Blog

Spring

Elizabeth — Fri, 28 Apr 2006 04:11:42 GMT

And You are here. The sun that warms the earth Is You. The Son that heals the earth Is You. Your soft breath Whispers on my skin, And I am warmed; I am healed. The plum tree echoes With your voice, Its blossoms on the breeze, A gift to You. The feelings in my heart Drift, pink and white; I lay their fragile petals At Your feet.

Know any good gopher wood salesmen?

Elizabeth — Wed, 05 Apr 2006 04:10:12 GMT

(That's what the ark was made out of, right?) It's raining today. Rained yesterday. And the day before that. The day before that, though, it rained. The week leading up to that day, it rained. Our 10 day forcast calls for, um, rain. Chances are, though, once that passes, it'll rain some more.

In A Station Of The Metro by Ezra Pound

Elizabeth — Wed, 05 Apr 2006 03:09:12 GMT

(A Favorite of mine) THE APPARITION OF THESE FACES IN THE CROWD; PETALS ON A WET, BLACK BOUGH.

Elizabeth — Tue, 28 Mar 2006 07:39:25 GMT

"I have found the Paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love." --Mother Teresa

A Traditional Celtic Prayer

Elizabeth — Fri, 24 Mar 2006 19:12:08 GMT

God to enfold me, God to surround me, God in my speaking, God in my thinking, God in my sleeping, God in my waking, God in my watching, God in my hoping.

from Middlemarch, by George Eliot

Elizabeth — Mon, 31 Oct 2005 00:35:29 GMT

"That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind, and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity."

My Summation Of This Life (but not my poem)

Elizabeth — Wed, 26 Oct 2005 05:33:32 GMT

And how could you have known when you began-- what the wind would do to any path leading through the desert, and how lost you have to be just to find the place where you are standing? How could you have known about the width, about the height of losses and how you must let go of all your thoughts, give them back to the first night, reserving and hoarding nothing for your self in the desert? --And how could you have known how courageous you would be? from "Pyramids"

Attachment Parenting--

Elizabeth — Sat, 22 Oct 2005 04:59:49 GMT

(See post below)

-- A Teenager?!

Elizabeth — Sat, 22 Oct 2005 04:56:30 GMT

It's trendy to talk about attachment parenting when you have a little one. But what about when they get hairy and start to smell? Ah, the teenage years! I realize that, as a teenager, my son, Max, needs me just as much as he did when he was willingly dependent on me for survival. Maybe more so. Only now, he argues with my every view, pushes away my caresses. I know it is his job to rebel, and what better to rebel against than that which is safest and most familiar? What better to rebel against, that is, than Mom? I remind myself that that is his job. So, what is my job? To be unwaivering and steadfast. To give him something against which to rebel, and yet, which he knows can stand firm in spite of his rebellion. It is so hard to be a teenager-- no longer child, not yet anything else. At this age, they are struggling to break free of the embryonic self and stand apart, in the light. More often than not, they feel only dark and lost and confused. Through it all, I hope I have the wisdom to see the boy who needs, more than ever, a mother's unwaivering support and love.-- It just might have to be managed a bit more subtly now than it was before!

For love of a dog

Elizabeth — Sat, 22 Oct 2005 02:59:17 GMT

When I got Sheah, she was a 3 1/2 month old, traumatized mess. I chose not to "train" her,she'd been messed with enough. Why did she have to "sit" just because I said to? Instead, I set about helping her to feel UN-invaded, UN-fearful, UN-traumatized. And, she has gotten better, continually, for the whole 8 years she has been with me. There is something really great about seeing comfort and well-being in the face of a creature who had such a start, and knowing that I was part of that change. It is humbling, and, at the same time, it makes me feel connected to something really big and meaningful. This dog came to me simply, needing to be loved. In the process of giving her what she needed, I learned how much I truly needed her love, too. Sometimes I find us both looking at each other with the soppiest expressions-- her licking me incessantly, me holding her close and cooing. I don't know which of us is luckier to have found the other, and it doesn't matter. What matters is that we did. And we will never be the same because of it.