new blog location

http://www.carlisready.wordpress.com

Art n Soul

I love hanging around with creatives.  The energy exchange in a room full of people who openly create is amazing.  I joined in on July's Art & Soul meeting.  It is kind of hard to describe this group.  The organizers Mark and Wendy DeRaud have a mission statement.  Still I felt like I didn't know what I was walking into.  Typical for me when approaching any new group specifically religious ones, I went with a friend and I was ready to run at the first sign of trouble.  I got no trouble.  What I got was a lesson in listening, observing, and sharing.  Things can get uncomfortable when talking about art and religion.  The two were completely intertwined until recent history, but somehow along with the separation of church and state came the separation of church and art, and art and the state.  Art, once the high point and pride of a society has become bastardized by its former supporters.  It's as if in the divorce between church and state, art was the child that ended up surrendered by both.

It was not a gathering of "Christian artists" but rather a gathering of Christians who are artists. The idea being that all art does not have to be topically Christian in order to be valid or celebrate God.  The climax of the meeting was all of us together, sitting, listening to music while we were being open to whatever came to us.  We sat and wrote and sketched.  Praying or crying or just waiting.  Afterward some of us shared what had come to us.  There were many themes, some cliché and obviously inspired by the story of the music, others seem to have no connection to the evening's conversation, music or even what you might think of as traditionally Christian iconography.

The timing of the invitation was perfect.  I have been actively learning to listen and hear over that past year.  I will go back again next month if I can.  I plan to start keeping a journal.  Not of my daily activities or thoughts, but of what I hear.  My goal is to hear so many things that I must write them all down in order to keep track of them.

Strange Days

I have been completely wacko the last week and a half due to what my doctor calls a migraine equivalent.  All of the fun of migraine with half the pain.

At first I thought I was just tired and cranky, then I got confused, my speech was slurred and mixed up, dim light felt like being hit with KC Daylighters, whispers were like megaphones, I was dizzy and throwing up.  Three days in I realized I had a migraine, Excedrin which usually helps didn't touch it.  Day 4 after some time crying on the floor of the walk-in closet I made an appointment to see the doctor.  Day 5 was the high point where hubby tripped on a toy xylophone in the dark and I saw a flash of light that didn't happen.

I saw the doctor and got more powerful medication.  Unfortunately the best meds stop the migraine, but very few treat them.

Here I am in the present, 10 days into a migraine.  Taking pain medication to treat symptoms that aren't painful.   Symptoms that I have been told could last a month.  I have tests scheduled, I am looking for triggers, I am doing migraine yoga, trying to relax, aromatherapy-ing, hot shower/cold showering, ice packing.  Communicating with the world through writing since my spoken words don't come out the way I'd like.

Normally I try to find the lesson and be positive, but this just sucks.  I am feeling better, but not great.

Oh, and my cat died.

Don't console me, just pray I feel better.

Dear Double Rainbow Guy

I am not laughing at you.

Double rainbow guy is viral.

It bugs me.  I am a snarky, cranky lady who teases people to their faces.  Double rainbow guy is being laughed at all over the innerwebz.  I'm not laughing.   Why?

It's not funny.  If he were looking at an image of the Buddha, or Jesus, or Mary few would have found it so hysterical.  Double rainbow guy was having a spiritual experience.  Even if you think he's stupid or wrong you shouldn't be laughing at that.

I was speaking with friends recently about how we as a society are so uptight.  Why we can't "get filled with the Holy Spirit."  Why we avert our eyes rather than celebrating when people are having a moment with God and are vulnerable.  This is why.  If you openly celebrate your religion and your spirituality you are opening yourself up to ridicule.  It doesn't only apply to "religious" experiences, either.

I cry in art museums.   I stand weeping in front of works of art.  I allow myself to be moved and feel it as deeply as I can.  I have wept in the stillness of the redwood forest.  I have wept on ocean cliff sides as the waves crashed with violent force.  In the eyes of some people that makes me weird.  I am ok with that.

I am embracing the awkwardness.  It is strange to feel so immensely moved by something people might see as normal or mundane.  If I had seen a double rainbow I may have reacted the same way.  Uninhibited, openly questioning how I came to be so blessed to witness something so beautiful.  I would have been too afraid to share my reaction with people.  You can all see why.

How Deep is Your Love?

No matter how big my boys get I still get a catch in my throat when I hear their deep sleep breathing.  It takes me back to those first few days of their lives when I would strain desperately in the middle of the night to hear those reassuring sighs.  The sleep brings back that baby look to their faces.  Completely relaxed expressions.  I have to restrain myself from lifting them up and cradling their gangly floppy bodies.  I understand now why the old woman in the book "I Love You Forever" was still sneaking into her grown son's room to cradle him in his sleep.  My love for them is deep beyond comprehension.  Merely pondering gives me the sensation of standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon.  Wondering how anything can be that large.  As large as it appears the scale of it steals from us our ability to perceive it.  We only know that it is vast, beautiful, and have a great fear and respect for the danger something that massive poses.

Just as one does not test the depth of the Grand Canyon, one must not test the love of a mother, for it is a great and fearful thing.

Turning in my cape

I learned a valuable lesson.  I am not responsible.  I can't save everyone.  Sometimes you just have to give up.

I imagine trying to save a drowning swimmer who doesn't know they are drowning.  They kick and fight and do everything to get you off of them.  Maybe they even think you are the one trying to pull them under.  At some point you have to give up or they will pull you down with them.

I am not responsible for the decisions of other people.  I can't make them see what they don't want to see.  I can't convince them of the truth if they have swallowed a lie whole.  I can't follow them down a hole they chose themselves, especially if there is a chance I can't make it out myself.

I can still hold out hope for humanity.  I can still believe that every drowning swimmer has the chance of rescue.  I don't have to be the one to save everyone.

The most difficult part of learning a lesson like this is the old wounds it opens.  My heart is broken.  It turns out it has been broken for some time and every beat was painful.  Over the years I have ignored the pain, it has healed over some, but like a broken bone that was not treated and must be reset the pain I feel at lifting and removing the scar tissue hurts as bad if not worse than the original injury.

From the outside my life looks that same.  If I were to tell you what happened it would seem insignificant.  That is how I learn.  I bear the brunt of endless small injuries until I look back through history and see volumes of small offenses, the weight of which I can no longer bear.  So I close the book.  I begin on a fresh page and start the story from today, but the old volumes remain on the shelf where I can see them, just in case I need to be reminded of what can happen if I let it.

I am not a super hero.  I am not the catcher in the rye.

Happy Birthday to ME

I received the greatest present this year.  Not just for my birthday, but a true life gift.  I was surrounded by love in my home and from afar.  I was ushered in to this next year of life by people I love, respect, and aspire to be like.  I saw that I have acquired a family of amazing individuals who live their lives with integrity, are committed to seeing to the welfare of others, have clear purpose in their life, and are unguarded in sharing their love and affection.  Real true people who are flawed, imperfect creations.  People who accept and love other human beings in spite of and sometimes because of their flaws.  I know and have had proven to me that whatever God puts (or allows to fall) into my path I will be supported, uplifted and even carried along by people who believe in me.

My life is a trust fall and this week I landed blindly and safely in the arms of many.

Thanks to all of you.

Under the Weather

Flat on my back is more like it.

I had my wisdom teeth out.   Let me warn you that if you have this procedure past the age of 21 you will hear more times than you'd like "aren't you a little old for that?"  Well, yes thanks for noticing.  You will also find that the surgery has in common with childbirth and kidney stones, the universal need by survivors to share their horror stories.   The message from everyone I have encounter is universal:

You are old and as bad as things are they are going to get worse.

To be honest it wasn't that bad.   I did get dry sockets, but didn't have a horrible experience with them.   I got very ill, but it was due to the cosmic scale coincidence of getting an unrelated infection on the same day as the procedure.  If I got the infection from the dentist let's just say that I would be set for life when the trial concluded.

After a trip to the doctor, blood work, peeing in a cup, etc. the problem was identified.   I either have a bladder infection and they prescribed Cipro for it, or I have Anthrax and everyone is afraid to tell me.  I have been throwing back shots of 100% cranberry juice and I am guessing by the success of that that my infection is in fact located in my bladder and not the result of terrorism or close contact with livestock.

I ended up spending a week longer in bed than I had anticipated.  I am now on the mend, but still get worn out pretty easily.  I feel just well enough to be bored, but not well enough to do anything about it.

On the plus side I updated my website, added new products and services, watched all of the Netflix streaming 19th century drama/romances worth watching, and feel a renewed kinship with my stay-at-home moms on Facebook.

warning! Jesus stuff!

I wrote this the other day and hubby insisted that I share.  He said I needed to give it to the world.  I am only open for debate, not argument.


God was always there.  God always spoke to those who listened.  When people would not (or could not) listen he gave us Jesus.  God transformed Himself from a being whose face we could not behold into flesh and blood.  Jesus had a face, a personality, breath.  Jesus was sent to the world for the world.  He came for everyone, but He spent his time with special people.  The chosen people of Jesus were beggars, lepers, prostitutes, and tax collectors.  People who were unclean.  People who had betrayed their own people, their friends and themselves.  He came to them not with words.  He came not with advice.  He came with action.  He touched.  He healed.  He lifted the burdens.  He asked nothing of them.

Jesus isn’t someone you can understand by memorizing Bible verses.  You find Him broken down on the side of the road.  You find Him in prison.  You find Him in back alleys and soup kitchens.  You find Him in sorrow and grief.  When you find Him you realize that it is not Him you are reaching out to, but Him who is reaching out through you.  That is how you find Jesus.  He does not come to you.  Don’t wait for Him.  You must go out and seek to find Him.

Those who need Him wait for you.  They are in the dark.  They are alone and scared and empty.  They don’t need Bible verses.  They need you hands to lift them, arms to hold them and shoulders to carry their burdens.

bad moms

Recently in Fresno there was a woman arrested for drowning her 2 month old baby, and planning to drown her other children.  When I heard that my first thought was, "that poor woman."  How tortured must you be to come to the point where that seems like the best option. I don't know much about her story.  I heard she was being housed in the hotel where it happened because of a domestic abuse situation.  On the news channel's Facebook page people commented with horrible attacks on her.

All I can do is pray for her.

Maybe she's not evil, maybe she is a woman who is so desperate, so devastated that ending her children's life was the best option in her mind.  Maybe she was protecting her children from what she thought would be a life of endless abuse.  We don't know.

What I do know that women with 2 month old babies are sleep deprived and prone to postpartum depression.  Add to that the stress of being a very young woman with two other young children, in a hotel room, who has suffered domestic abuse.  Should we assume this woman is an evil murderer?  I personally have decided to pray for this woman.  To send love and peace her way.  To hope that she can come from the dark place in the world that led her to believe that this was an option.

The next time you hear about a bad mother stop and think.  Before you judge her for not doing what you would have done try to understand why she did what she did.  Did she feel worthless, hopeless, backed into a corner?  Who was there for her?  Who saw that she needed help and didn't help her?  Now look around and make sure there are no mothers in your life who feel that way.  If there are then have the courage to reach out to her.  She may need you far more than you know, and these days are villages are silent.  If you are that mom then reach out, now matter how small your troubles seem to you.  There is another mother out there who will understand and help you.

what is up with me?

I haven't been writing.  I was in denial about not writing.  One day I just stopped.  I finally figured out the cause.  It is directly related to the way I process.  I have been processing internally.  It is unusual for me.  Normally I talk and write and follow anyone who will listen around processing everything out loud.  My decision making, my spiritual journey, me creative process.  I write out my frustrations, my triumph, my discoveries and put it all out for everyone to witness.

Then one day I decided I wanted to be a better listener.

I started processing everything on the inside.  Hoping things would come to me.  Reading and searching.  I did not notice this happening.  I was withdrawing and stuffing everything down.  Including ice cream.

I came out of the fog to an enormous mess.  Laundry to catch up on, work to catch up on, friends to catch up with, and a brand new pants size (not in the desirable direction).  I did not emerge from the fog slowly.  I burst out of it with an "oh! crap!"  Actually it was stronger than that, but I have edited it for you.

So here we are.  I am feeling pretty good.  The path ahead is not completely clear, but I have a roadmap.  I don't know where I will end up, but at least I know where I want to go.

focus

I am a photographer, so please excuse the metaphor, but the high points of my life are like photographs.  Crystal clear moments when the composition is perfect and all of the right things are in focus.  If you have never used manual focus on a camera you should.  It is a different experience.  When light passes through an aperture it creates an image in light on the focal plane (that's where the film sits in a camera).  The image is upside down and backward and very blurry.  The blur is caused by an effect called circles of confusion.  A lens is required to focus those circles of confusion into a clear image.  Looking through an unfocused lens gives you only a hint of what you are about to see.  As you turn the barrel of the lens trying to line up the focus target the images becomes clearer.  The focus comes closer.  You feel a sense of anticipation, the image is coming together.

Right now I am living that moment.  The moment before.  The image is coming clear, the elements are in place and any second it will be time to press the shutter release.

Sometimes we wander through life seeing nothing but circles of confusion.  We have to select the right lens to bring things into clear focus.  There are many glass elements to every lens, all cut in different shapes, working together to bring clarity, let in the right amount of light, and crop out what you don't need in your photograph.

I finally feel like my Aspie son is in the right school, heading in the right direction, learning and growing.

Our family has found a church close to home where we immediately felt truly welcome.

My marriage is as strong as it has ever been and I am so happy in it.

My business and career is on a settled, clear path.

I have supporting loving friends with whom I can be open, honest, provide mutual support.  We all have differences and accept and encourage each other in our own paths.

These elements are in place and I can see the future coming clear.  Soon I will exhale and press the shutter.

Sorry, Pluto

Every time I hear or read about Pluto I have this scene run through my mind.  Let me set the stage:

Pluto has always been a bit of a loner, out there on the edge, no one really understands him. He knows he's different, he just doesn't know why.  Even within his own family, the Solar System he's never fit in.  Not quite gaseous like his big brothers, not quite as terrestrial as his sisters.  Then one day the sun sits him down.

"You're not like your brothers and sisters," she says.  For the purposes of my fantasy the sun is feminine, read in what you will.

"What do you mean," Pluto says, but sensing that what he's always known is about to be confirmed.

"Well, I don't quite know how to put this, but your not a planet."
"But, then... what am I?"
"Heck if I know, we were a happy little family, then we found you on the doorstep and didn't quite know what to do with you.  It looks like we prematurely slapped a label on you, and boy aren't we embarrassed.  Don't feel too bad, millions of people, generations have just found out that one of the fats of their life was totally wrong and now are questioning everything they ever learned.  Boy do they feel lied to.  Don't be like them, they're gonna have trouble letting it go.  You need to suck it up and get over it.  Don't worry.  I've packed your bags for you.  Good luck.  I'd say we'll miss you, but that's not likely."

Cut to a forlorn Pluto standing on the front porch of the only reality he's ever known, with his back to the door, wondering if he will be missed.

I am having trouble letting go.  Pluto, you'll always be a planet to me.

Happy VD!

I am a rather whiny, snarky person on one end on on the other I am overly emotional and sentimental.  Today I thought I would share with you that at this moment I am happier than I have ever been.  My life isn't perfect.  I am, however married to the best person I could be married to.  He tolerates my moods, knows when to retreat, knows when I need to eat, and loves me forever.  One of my children is a brilliant misfit who never wants to grow up, but is learning every day about the world and himself and has grown in leaps and bounds in spite of his challenges.  My other child is a brilliant schmoozer who believes without doubt that the world is his oyster, all women love him, and that when he grows up he will be a super hero.

What more could a person want.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Great Day

When I went to pick my son up from school today after lunch he asked if he could please stay until the end of the day.

Wow.  What a turn around.  I was nervous about it, but let him.  They were to have a Valentine's Day "party" and card exchange and he wanted to stay.  We walked back to his class and one of the boys asked somewhat disappointedly if he was leaving.  "We're having a party!" he said as if trying to convince my boy to stay.  To the class' relief they were informed that he would be staying for the party.

When I went to retrieve him after school he told me that he had a "great" day.

Even better he came in to my office later.

"Hey, Mom.  Sometimes if I say I never want to go back to school, I don't really mean it.  I want to go to school," he told me just in case I decided to grant his momentary wish.

Looks like he's learned something new already.

Respite

Two posts in one day is a bit much for me, but in the middle of the night I find clarity in the quiet.  When the children are sleeping I am only me.  I am not Mom, no one is demanding anything of me and I can think.

My boy felt much better after a few hours of respite from school, he danced (literally) off to bed wearing his silliest grin, and didn't argue about school.

He has a new dance this week, it is a cross between the New Kids on the Block leg swing and a bunny hop.  His most distinct 'repetitive motor behavior' is this dance he does when he's very happy, it has evolved slowly over time, but changed in a leap this week.  The dance absolutely means he is happy.  He is starting to feel proud of the little victories he has at school.  The vice principle today spoke to us as we were leaving campus and made a point of congratulating him on his day.  He didn't run from class.  Small victory, but victory none the less.  He is not often proud of himself, mostly because his difficulty with perspective keeps him from seeing that others have noticed his accomplishments.

Now that I have had my respite I, too can see that today wasn't so bad.

"normal"

Every night you cry yourself to sleep 

thinking why does this happen to me

why does every moment have to be so hard

I love Maroon 5.  They allow me to wallow in self pity.  I'm having one of those days where I want to scream "why can't he be neuro typical?"

Why can't his life be easier, why can't my life be easier?  I know after I have a good cry and a good laugh it will all be better, and I'll remember that I love my son, regardless of his brain and maybe because of it.

His school day would have been a great day on my scale as an elementary schooler, but every little thing brings him to a stop.  He didn't know what to do in class, but doesn't think to ask for help.  That frustrated him, so he needed a break, but has been struggling over what hand signal to use, so he didn't take a break because he didn't think to just raise his hand and ask.  He got the wrong entree at lunch because he didn't know which was which and didn't think to ask.

He's a 10 year old genius that can't tie his shoes, ride a bike, or ask for help.  Kids have to learn how to be adults, it is a process that can be painful, but for my son with Asperger's every step is painful, the thought of the steps are painful.  It is painful to watch.  My instinct is to scoop him up and run home, but I am worn out.

Tomorrow WILL be better.

"I Hate School"

Of course you do.  You're 10 years old.  The good news is that school loves you.

After a very rough start (running out of class 30 minutes into the day on Tuesday) he will be re-starting on Tuesday.  He will arrive just before first recess and stay until after lunch recess.  We are going to gradually introduce him like a frog being boiled.  The school staff is being very helpful and supportive, and his classmates ask about him every day.

Back to School

I try not to blog as a means of venting, but right now I can't help it.  As you regular readers know, my 10 year old will be going back to traditional public school... on MONDAY.  I am a nervous wreck.  I feel like I am going to have a heart attack.  Totally FREAKING OUT!

I have met the principle, the psychologist, the vice-principle, and on Monday I will meet his teacher.  The psych. assure me that my baby is getting essentially the greatest 4th grade teacher ever.  Seriously.

I have to go buy big pencils, a rolling backpack, give him a dress code hair cut.  I ordered a fidget toy for him to use in class.  I am fully confident that they will do whatever necessary to educate my Aspie without ruining him, but the anticipation is killing me.  Pray for my baby and for me.  I may need it more.

I am really hoping that his classmates will embrace him in all of his fleece cargo panted, slippered, awkward glory.

Poll: First thing after we became engaged I...

Poll: First thing after we became engaged I...

Schooling with Asperger's

When I pulled my son out of school half way through the second grade, I didn't know it was because of Asperger's.  He was enrolled in a charter home school because I didn't know what else to do.  We finally got a diagnosis in 4th grade.  After a lot of thought and struggle I pulled him out of the charter and began unschooling him.  The main goal was to spend time teaching him social skills, coping skills, and worry about academics when he could handle it emotionally.  I am pleased to say that my method worked.  He progressed from a violent resistance to any structured activity with a preference for a single activity, to moving from activity to activity of his choosing through out the day.  That might not sound like much but for us it's huge.

He has also become much more flexible.  He will willingly try new activities, handles well changes in plans, engages new people in conversation, and makes eye contact when he tells people that he doesn't shake hands.

We moved to a new house so that he could have his own room, more space, and quiet time. Our new neighborhood is near the school where my younger son will attend kindergarten in the fall.  Every time we drive past we say hello to the 4yo's new school.  Two weeks ago we drove past at release time.  My 10yo Aspie said that if he went to school there we could walk, and not even need a car.  I asked if he would be interested in attending that school, he said "sure, if they have a special class for kids like me."

We met this week with the school psychologist and my son will be trying out public school again, by his choice.  I will keep you updated on how it all goes.

Green Pastors! Woo hoo!

http://blog.algore.com/2010/01/green_pastors.html

Grown ups

At 5:45 pm on January 20, 2010 I realized I am a grown up.  It's a small thing, but it hit me big.

I have been trying forever to stop wanting to be someone else.  I have been saying for 30 years that I want to be like (insert cool person's name here) when I grow up.  I was just sitting here musing about the people whose work I admire, wondering how far along they are in life's journey.  Then I started to wonder how far along I am.  I was thinking about who I want to be when I grow up.  I couldn't come up with anyone.  I then realized that I want to be ME when I grow up.  Me.  The best of me.  Me at my best.  It sounds so obvious and I am sure I have been spouting it for years, but this was the first time I realized that the drive to be just me and no one else is truly a part of my thought process.  It's like breathing.  It isn't a struggle.

Perspective: parenting children with disabilities.

I'm sitting in a waiting room with elderly women and their adult children who are developmentaly disabled. Rarely in the world do you see such displays of love and patience as I am seeing now. It makes me so grateful that my children have the abilities that they do, and grateful that these women have given themselves so gladly to caring for their children.

things i learn from csi

never use your gps to guide you to your crime scene. cops know about gps.

My Museum

I was introduced to the Fresno Met, by my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Ogata. Coincidentally my favorite teacher. I didn't know at age 10 what an impact that institution would have on my life. About 10 years ago my best friend got a job there and as always, wherever she was I was. When they needed someone to sell memberships I was an employee. When they needed a decorator coordinator for Christmas at the Met I was there. I did a tree every year after that until the pros took them over. I made horrible scones for the tea, I photographed kids on Santa's lap. I cut my photographic teeth doing event photography, head shots, copy work, whatever they needed. I met so many people through the Met. I saw so many beautiful things and learned so much. I explored there as a child and watched my children's faces light as they explored.

On Sunday I went to the Fresno Metropolitan Museum of Art and Science for the last time. I had no idea how it would effect me. I didn't anticipate how I would feel making that last pass through the gallery, my eyes moist as they wandered over Matisse.

I think now of the people who are losing their jobs. The Met wasn't just a job for most, it was life. For the volunteers who sweat blood raising the money to open the museum and again over the last 4 years trying to save it they are losing a child. Most people don't understand the commitment of a passionate volunteer. How many children will never see this museum, how many will miss the opportunity to learn from the dedicated staff?

Goodbye, Met. You gave me grief, joy, awe. I will miss you.

NYE

I am riding home in the passenger seat of our van thinking about how blessed I am to have the life I do. The good times and the bad shape us into the people we are. I try to take all of them in as opportunities to grow. I feel like I have grown a lot through 2009. There has been a lot of talk about resolutions this year. I have also seen a lot about declarations instead of resolutions. I can't think of anything I would change. And the next year starts every day. Every day is a new beginning and a chance to start over. I got to spend New Year's Eve with a fantastic assortment of new and old friends. I laughed like I haven't laughed in ages. 2010 has been a great year.