Last night my son despaired of getting into his top choice of college--Middlebury. He discovered that the application deadline was January 1, not January 15, and as it was the 8th, he fell into despair. I like to think I had a hand in the miracle, because when I suggested that he try anyway and write an email to the Admissions Director, he did so, rather to my surprise. I don't have such resilience. Today he received an email saying that his enthusiasm was appreciated, and that his application would be considered if he sent it in immediately. He did so, today. I told him he was a lucky bug.
This is my prediction. He will get into Middlebury, but without any financial aid. He will get into Macalester with aid. We will tussle about the decision, because it means large sums of money which he cannot comprehend, because I've made it so for him. Likely he will get his way.May it be easy for him and me and his other parents. Any of the colleges would be fantastic. He will find the world, more wondrous and trubling than any of the near 1,000 books he has read. He will become confident and learned and truly humble. He will soar with his yet undiscovered passion. He will become happy, fulfilled, and a giving human being on this earth. A mother cannot ask for more.
Finding Voice
Monday, January 9, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
Dancing Five Layers
January 2, 2012 Today I went to the dancing event known as IM Jam at Farnsworth Park in Altadena, CA. The dj/musician/spiritual healer was leading the group through cooling down exercises when I arrived half way through the event. He urged dancers to see through their toes and breathe with their fingers. Everyone was encouraged to listen to the music and to let it move their bodies. No judging, no conversations, no cell phones. Of course I felt awkward, but I'm a dancing fool. Still, I felt eyes on me and didn't know what to make of it. At a dance club, I do. But here, the idea was to not perform, but to be in the music with your body. Not sure if I did that, exactly, but I am a dancing fool, so I had fun. There's a lot more space than at a dance club, and the other people are free-styling and dancing as if no one is looking, even though we are. But I had promised myself the fun and the exercise, and my shoulders felt lighter than they have in years. Later, one of the dancers, of which there were abut 35, invited people up to his house in the hills. Everyone said, "His house is amazing." So I went to see the amazing house. I was urged by an acquaintance to step out onto the patio. And there lay out below the entire half of Los Angeles, from mountain to the sea, glittering in mostly golden and silver lights. It was beautiful. And then I turned around, and saw the mountains, rising up against the sky, pushing up against me, in the half moon light, rising, pressing, opening, embracing. All I could say to the host was, "and then I saw the mountains." And he said, "Yeah, it's halfway between man and God up here."
Sunday, January 1, 2012
January 1, 2012. This is the start. I've made dinner. My son came dancing into the kitchen, announcing that--gosh, has it been that long since I've cooked? Something tells me that I've got 29 of these New Year Days left in me. Please, God, don't let me waste them. There, another typically negative me thought. Yeah? So what. Let it go. Oh, well, he says. That's the ticket. Oh well, and left, right, left right. "He" is Thich Nhat Hahn. Chant in the moment, be in the most mundane of words like sounds, with expelled breath, like the smallest particle of what I am. Left, right, left, right, and behold, there's joy in this particulate. There is nothing to fear after all. You can do it, Girl! Boy! Child! Well, of course there is fear, but the point is that you smash through it and find stillness and peace on the other side. Physicists now say there are 11 dimensions. Get to the meadow of your making, where Jesus or some such awaits, not the shadow of Plato, although that is not altogether incorrect. And not, mind you, the afterlife, but right here, right now. Left of fear. Right of loathing. I see that my fear of you and your loathing of me don't, in fact, matter. Or are mattering less. And in not mattering, I begin to matter, and you begin to matter to me, thank God. Let us go in peace.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)