I may have posted previously about Random Acts of Kindness, and I DO love them. But today, I find myself drawn to the concept of intentional acts of compassion.
The Dalai Lama is in my home (and current) town of Louisville speaking on Compassion. The Mayor of Louisville (Greg Fisher) has proclaimed Louisville to be a Compassionate City and the agency I serve as Executive Director has signed on to this charter. My entire existence--past, present and future--has existed on compassion from within and survived on compassion externally (those who compassionately and generously donate ALLOW me to survive!).
And so, I wonder, what would happen if we regularly engage in intentional acts of compassion. These are not accidental. No, they are intentional. They are thought out. They are meaningful. They are small and they are big. You can achieve big things by focusing on the small, you CAN change a life in the smallest of ways. I know it to be true because it has been true for me.
The difference here is the intention that we send out into the world. We set our mind to thinking about being compassionate towards one another as well as towards ourselves. It is just by accident, it is by design. The Dalai Lama was once quoted (in Wayne Dyer's Excuses Begone CD series, which I highly recommend to everyone) as saying if we can teach every 5 year old to meditate on Compassion for one hour a week, we can wipe out all violence in one generation. This may or may not be true, but why not give it a shot? Why not set about your life *thinking* and *intending* to do something compassionate in, to and for the world?
I believe when we intend to be compassionate, we will become compassionate. Nee, I believe we already are compassionate. When we intend to become compassionate we will align with Spirit and tap into our compassion in ways previously un-experienced. When we become compassionate individuals, we will become a compassionate home, families, neighborhoods, communities, cities, states, countries, etc. We will become a generation of Compassion.
Instead of Gen X, Gen Y or Gen ME-ME-ME, I believe the next generation can be Gen C--Generation Compassion. Someone has to lead this charge, are you in ? Maybe it is and maybe it isn't, either way that's my 26.2 compassionate cents worth...
Monday, May 20, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Unsettled
Tonight is the eve of Mother's Day. I speak with my mom nearly daily and I see her several times a week. I am so fortunate, and yet I lie on my couch in a state of complete and utter unsettledness.
Those of you who have followed my marathon journey from running 26.2 miles physically into the metaphoric world of running the marathon of being a single parent to a child with a past checkered with adults who either didn't know how or wouldn't act upon their knowledge to be loving, caring and healthy moms and dads. . . that's a run on sentence, but hey, this is a marathon blog so a run on sentence seems fitting in an unsettled kind of way.Anyway, y'all know i Have a child now. That's the point I was trying to get and only realized in hindsight and proofing I forgot to make the point.
As we are all celebrating our moms and how wonderful they are my kid will be reminded of how shitty his was. He will be reminded of the inner conflict and raging fire that burns in two directions of hating her and yet wanting to be with her. He will be reminded, yet again, of how different he is from the mainstream. He has noone to buy flowers for, a card for, to do something extra nice for. Someone to say thank you to. Someone to pamper for the day. Someone to tuck him in and say, "you've made my life incredible!" in a motherly kind of way. I'm a single parent and I wear the hate of mom and dad, but I'm not a mom and I cannot be a substitute. no, I won't steal my child's story from him and insult his experiences. But I want to. I want to snatch him up and cradle him in my arms as I so fondly remember my mom doing time and time again. I want to be the familiar scent that belonged only to my mom. I want to erase the horrible memories and replace them with loving ones.
I want for my child everything that I had growing up and deserved absolutely no more than my child deserves today. But that cannot happen. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic and ego centric. Maybe it isn't that big of a deal at all. Maybe I'm over-analyzing. I don't even know where my thoughts are going except that tonight, after nearly four months, my kid could not go to sleep for fear of a stranger breaking in and murdering him and him not being able to scream loudly enough for me to hear. And this is after we honored and celebrated my mom all this past week. I weep for a childhood that was not lost to my child, rather it was never given to him.
And so tomorrow when churches are full of people honoring their moms and giving them flowers (we will be hosting my own mom for mid-morning brunch) I ask that you join me in lifting all our momless brothers and sisters up. Lord, hear our prayers, replace the hatred with love, the rage with understanding. The anger with compassion. Replenish empty coffers gone hard and cold from rejection. Heal those who are hurting and those engaged in healing. Inspire those who have not seen, but can do so much more. Enable each of our hands, hearts, bodies and minds to be vessels of endless love, boundless joy, contagious laughter and healing touch. Let us be enough. Let us love enough. Let us mom enough.
I don't even know if that's 26.2 cents worth or not, but there it is.
Those of you who have followed my marathon journey from running 26.2 miles physically into the metaphoric world of running the marathon of being a single parent to a child with a past checkered with adults who either didn't know how or wouldn't act upon their knowledge to be loving, caring and healthy moms and dads. . . that's a run on sentence, but hey, this is a marathon blog so a run on sentence seems fitting in an unsettled kind of way.Anyway, y'all know i Have a child now. That's the point I was trying to get and only realized in hindsight and proofing I forgot to make the point.
As we are all celebrating our moms and how wonderful they are my kid will be reminded of how shitty his was. He will be reminded of the inner conflict and raging fire that burns in two directions of hating her and yet wanting to be with her. He will be reminded, yet again, of how different he is from the mainstream. He has noone to buy flowers for, a card for, to do something extra nice for. Someone to say thank you to. Someone to pamper for the day. Someone to tuck him in and say, "you've made my life incredible!" in a motherly kind of way. I'm a single parent and I wear the hate of mom and dad, but I'm not a mom and I cannot be a substitute. no, I won't steal my child's story from him and insult his experiences. But I want to. I want to snatch him up and cradle him in my arms as I so fondly remember my mom doing time and time again. I want to be the familiar scent that belonged only to my mom. I want to erase the horrible memories and replace them with loving ones.
I want for my child everything that I had growing up and deserved absolutely no more than my child deserves today. But that cannot happen. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic and ego centric. Maybe it isn't that big of a deal at all. Maybe I'm over-analyzing. I don't even know where my thoughts are going except that tonight, after nearly four months, my kid could not go to sleep for fear of a stranger breaking in and murdering him and him not being able to scream loudly enough for me to hear. And this is after we honored and celebrated my mom all this past week. I weep for a childhood that was not lost to my child, rather it was never given to him.
And so tomorrow when churches are full of people honoring their moms and giving them flowers (we will be hosting my own mom for mid-morning brunch) I ask that you join me in lifting all our momless brothers and sisters up. Lord, hear our prayers, replace the hatred with love, the rage with understanding. The anger with compassion. Replenish empty coffers gone hard and cold from rejection. Heal those who are hurting and those engaged in healing. Inspire those who have not seen, but can do so much more. Enable each of our hands, hearts, bodies and minds to be vessels of endless love, boundless joy, contagious laughter and healing touch. Let us be enough. Let us love enough. Let us mom enough.
I don't even know if that's 26.2 cents worth or not, but there it is.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
I. Can't. Do. This. As I do.
As my regular readers know, I've recently become a doting dad. I am so proud of my kiddoe and the progress he has made over the last nearly 3 months. There have been some uphill battles, yet there have been many more triumphs to be celebrated! ...increased desire to read (I believe reading is essential to so many things in life), better reading comprehension, nearly perfect scores on vocabulary assessments/tests for four weeks solid, more confidence in both math & science, social skills allowing him to make new friends, integration into a brand new family, decreased cussing and....and...and the list goes on.
There are days, however, that I end the night totally exhausted and think, "I can't do this." One such night I was depleted, I was in tears, my body ached to the same level of my heart. I think what we parents of children in the foster care system fail to share with each other are the hopeless moments. The moments where we wonder if love will overcome. Will 1, 5, 10, 15 years of neglect, abuse, abandonment, etc. be undone and redone in a healthier way? Maybe I'm just alone in this feeling at times? Yes, there are REALLY awesome moments to celebrate, there are equally difficult moments where doubt DOES begin to creep in. I believe in sharing this moments of despair, perhaps someone else can say, "OH MY GOD, I feel the same way too and you got through it? Maybe I can too! Maybe I'm NOT a bad parent because I feel this way..." Again, maybe I am alone in this feeling because I don't hear others talking about it.
But there is hope.
And I was reminded of this hope when I felt hopeless and like a miserable (MISERABLE I SAID) failure at mile 20 of my first marathon. I began to believe that I could not do it. I distinctly remember making the fatal flaw of stopping to pee, my legs froze in those few brief seconds it took to eliminate whatever drips of hydration I may have been holding on to. Then they began to shake and twitch, which sent this message to my brain that I couldn't do it, despite the months of training, reading and preparation. I remember seeing my friend Yadira during this period of doubt, and the doubts were quieted for a brief moment. Brief. Somewhere around mile 22 I caught back up to my running buddy, Trino, and began to verbalize that I couldn't do it. He kept saying, "but you are, look at you, you just took another step." "But I can't, Trino, I can't." "But you are, Donald, you are." and so this banter went back and forth until mile 25 (somewhere there was a cheer squad including a clown, signs and lots of crazy antics from my friends) when I saw the finish line sign. But doubt crept in. I thought they were tricking us and we had to double back through the neighborhood first. But with Trino alongside me, giving me encouragement truly at every step, I did cross that finish line. And what a glorious fucking finish it was! I remember going to the soda fountain and getting a coke. I skipped diet for that day. There was a big thing of rice and beans from the Colombia restaurant. I was enamored with my new, shiny mylar blanket. My boyfriend at the time even made it back in time to see me cross and help hold my wobbling body. On that day, I thought I crossed the finish line because my leg and body muscles were strong enough to transport me 26.2 miles in 4+ hours. Now I realize that's just my ego talking.
I didn't finish because I was personally strong enough; I finished because I had a support team to lift me up and propel me along the path when I was NOT strong enough. And I can do this too, not because I am strong enough but because those around me won't let me fail--THEY are strong enough to carry me when I am weak.
So yes, on this day when I am behind on reports, filing my taxes, dealing with tummy issues in the home, a yard that needs to be cut, a court date for expired tags I TOTALLY forgot about and a bank account that I refuse to look at..my brain might be telling me I can't, my mouth might be saying I can't, but damn it my--and your--actions are proving that we can.
Yes, Love is enough. Hope is enough. And there ya have it, a month on hiatus but my 26.2 exhausted cents worth anyway...
There are days, however, that I end the night totally exhausted and think, "I can't do this." One such night I was depleted, I was in tears, my body ached to the same level of my heart. I think what we parents of children in the foster care system fail to share with each other are the hopeless moments. The moments where we wonder if love will overcome. Will 1, 5, 10, 15 years of neglect, abuse, abandonment, etc. be undone and redone in a healthier way? Maybe I'm just alone in this feeling at times? Yes, there are REALLY awesome moments to celebrate, there are equally difficult moments where doubt DOES begin to creep in. I believe in sharing this moments of despair, perhaps someone else can say, "OH MY GOD, I feel the same way too and you got through it? Maybe I can too! Maybe I'm NOT a bad parent because I feel this way..." Again, maybe I am alone in this feeling because I don't hear others talking about it.
But there is hope.
And I was reminded of this hope when I felt hopeless and like a miserable (MISERABLE I SAID) failure at mile 20 of my first marathon. I began to believe that I could not do it. I distinctly remember making the fatal flaw of stopping to pee, my legs froze in those few brief seconds it took to eliminate whatever drips of hydration I may have been holding on to. Then they began to shake and twitch, which sent this message to my brain that I couldn't do it, despite the months of training, reading and preparation. I remember seeing my friend Yadira during this period of doubt, and the doubts were quieted for a brief moment. Brief. Somewhere around mile 22 I caught back up to my running buddy, Trino, and began to verbalize that I couldn't do it. He kept saying, "but you are, look at you, you just took another step." "But I can't, Trino, I can't." "But you are, Donald, you are." and so this banter went back and forth until mile 25 (somewhere there was a cheer squad including a clown, signs and lots of crazy antics from my friends) when I saw the finish line sign. But doubt crept in. I thought they were tricking us and we had to double back through the neighborhood first. But with Trino alongside me, giving me encouragement truly at every step, I did cross that finish line. And what a glorious fucking finish it was! I remember going to the soda fountain and getting a coke. I skipped diet for that day. There was a big thing of rice and beans from the Colombia restaurant. I was enamored with my new, shiny mylar blanket. My boyfriend at the time even made it back in time to see me cross and help hold my wobbling body. On that day, I thought I crossed the finish line because my leg and body muscles were strong enough to transport me 26.2 miles in 4+ hours. Now I realize that's just my ego talking.
I didn't finish because I was personally strong enough; I finished because I had a support team to lift me up and propel me along the path when I was NOT strong enough. And I can do this too, not because I am strong enough but because those around me won't let me fail--THEY are strong enough to carry me when I am weak.
So yes, on this day when I am behind on reports, filing my taxes, dealing with tummy issues in the home, a yard that needs to be cut, a court date for expired tags I TOTALLY forgot about and a bank account that I refuse to look at..my brain might be telling me I can't, my mouth might be saying I can't, but damn it my--and your--actions are proving that we can.
Yes, Love is enough. Hope is enough. And there ya have it, a month on hiatus but my 26.2 exhausted cents worth anyway...
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Great Love = Great Miracles
I apologize for my lack of posts, entries, runs and perhaps motivation to get out and pound the pavement. You see, my journey to become a dad began in earnest August, 2012 and on January 23, 2013, I was blessed with a most precious 11 year old who is so full of bright potential. And energy. Energy I thought I had tit for tat. Alas, I do not.
I am adjusting. I am training for a new kind of marathon. The fatigue is just as great, and I must pay just as much attention to proper nutrition, stretching, recovery, self care, directing and redirecting my own self-defeatest thoughts.
Just as with all things in life, I believe being a parent to a child in foster care is JUST like a marathon. Shock, right?
I like to chunk my marathons in 5K races...the first is warm up, anticipation, excitement. The 2nd is like, uh...I got this. The third I begin to wonder why I didn't just do the half again, I'd be almost done. The 4th I realize it's no turning back, make it or break it. So on and so forth until I reach the final two when I am beginning to wonder if I made a huge mistake. My energy storage tanks are depleted. And I think that it would be so much easier to have just worked at a water stop instead. Dumb me again! But then I reach another mile. And I gulp some water. And I eat an orange slice. And I high five a kid. And I think, "HECK YEA, I GOT THIS BRO!" And then a few paces later I wonder who just said that cause it surely wasn't me. And then another pretzel, another gu, another boost of energy, "HECK YEA....BAM! I GOT THIS! MOVE IT SLOW POKE!" And then...I think you get the picture.
And so for exactly three weeks, I've been running the above marathon. My first 5k was horrendously slow, but I was so proud. And it was only 3.1 miles. My first full marathon was horrendously slow but I was so proud. And it was 26.2 miles. I celebrated each mile(haha)stone with fist pumps in the air, smiles on my face and giggles in my throat.
So shall I accomplish this, the greatest marathon I'll ever race AND WIN. or at least that's my 26 point 2 very determined cents worth. . .
When there is great love there are always miracles.
~ Willa Cather
I am adjusting. I am training for a new kind of marathon. The fatigue is just as great, and I must pay just as much attention to proper nutrition, stretching, recovery, self care, directing and redirecting my own self-defeatest thoughts.
Just as with all things in life, I believe being a parent to a child in foster care is JUST like a marathon. Shock, right?
I like to chunk my marathons in 5K races...the first is warm up, anticipation, excitement. The 2nd is like, uh...I got this. The third I begin to wonder why I didn't just do the half again, I'd be almost done. The 4th I realize it's no turning back, make it or break it. So on and so forth until I reach the final two when I am beginning to wonder if I made a huge mistake. My energy storage tanks are depleted. And I think that it would be so much easier to have just worked at a water stop instead. Dumb me again! But then I reach another mile. And I gulp some water. And I eat an orange slice. And I high five a kid. And I think, "HECK YEA, I GOT THIS BRO!" And then a few paces later I wonder who just said that cause it surely wasn't me. And then another pretzel, another gu, another boost of energy, "HECK YEA....BAM! I GOT THIS! MOVE IT SLOW POKE!" And then...I think you get the picture.
And so for exactly three weeks, I've been running the above marathon. My first 5k was horrendously slow, but I was so proud. And it was only 3.1 miles. My first full marathon was horrendously slow but I was so proud. And it was 26.2 miles. I celebrated each mile(haha)stone with fist pumps in the air, smiles on my face and giggles in my throat.
So shall I accomplish this, the greatest marathon I'll ever race AND WIN. or at least that's my 26 point 2 very determined cents worth. . .
When there is great love there are always miracles.
~ Willa Cather
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Resolutions:
Every year thousands, if not millions, of people across the world (or is this just a US thing?) make New Year's Resolutions. They typically go along the lines of:
I'm going to lose weight; I'm going to quit smoking; I'm not going to fight with my spouse so much; I'm not going to watch as much TV; etc.
Do you notice a fundamental flaw in the wording here? They focus on the negative and not the positive. And that's what we so-often do throughout so many aspects of our lives.
Ugh, if I don't get up and exercise I'm going to be fat. If I don't get on that dating website I'm going to remain single. If I don't save money I'm going to keep being poor.
What if we reworded it to focus on the positive:
This year, I'm going to believe that I deserve to live a healthy life by exercising more. This year, I'm going to save money and improve my health by no longer smoking. This year, my spouse and I are going to have a wonderful relationship founded on communication. This year, I'm going to try out that hobby that's been in the back of my mind instead of watching 3 hours of tv each night.
If I do workout more, I'm going to be healthier, happier and better. If I join that website, I may find my partner. When I save money, I'm going to be able to pay ca$h for that dream vacation.
BOOYA! I mean, come on, don't you get excited when you put things in a positive perspective?
Frankly, I do not believe that corrective action works. Negative consequences of negative behaviors don't work either in my opinion or none of us would be eating fried foods and oreos at midnight (or is that just me?) if negative consequences worked, obesity would not be on the rise, would it? so instead, let's get back to a positive reinforcement of a positive behavior. I think I learned something about that a bazillion years ago in some psych 101 class I took at the local community college.
Now, if you don't mind I have to get to my ab crunches, because when I do ab crunches and work on my core, I'm going to be able to BEAT that Kentucky Derby FULL Marathon coming up in April. Yes Ma'am I will! Or at least that's my 26.2 cents worth and hey, if you're working on paying your debt off, every 26.2 cents counts. Can I get an amen?
Every year thousands, if not millions, of people across the world (or is this just a US thing?) make New Year's Resolutions. They typically go along the lines of:
I'm going to lose weight; I'm going to quit smoking; I'm not going to fight with my spouse so much; I'm not going to watch as much TV; etc.
Do you notice a fundamental flaw in the wording here? They focus on the negative and not the positive. And that's what we so-often do throughout so many aspects of our lives.
Ugh, if I don't get up and exercise I'm going to be fat. If I don't get on that dating website I'm going to remain single. If I don't save money I'm going to keep being poor.
What if we reworded it to focus on the positive:
This year, I'm going to believe that I deserve to live a healthy life by exercising more. This year, I'm going to save money and improve my health by no longer smoking. This year, my spouse and I are going to have a wonderful relationship founded on communication. This year, I'm going to try out that hobby that's been in the back of my mind instead of watching 3 hours of tv each night.
If I do workout more, I'm going to be healthier, happier and better. If I join that website, I may find my partner. When I save money, I'm going to be able to pay ca$h for that dream vacation.
BOOYA! I mean, come on, don't you get excited when you put things in a positive perspective?
Frankly, I do not believe that corrective action works. Negative consequences of negative behaviors don't work either in my opinion or none of us would be eating fried foods and oreos at midnight (or is that just me?) if negative consequences worked, obesity would not be on the rise, would it? so instead, let's get back to a positive reinforcement of a positive behavior. I think I learned something about that a bazillion years ago in some psych 101 class I took at the local community college.
Now, if you don't mind I have to get to my ab crunches, because when I do ab crunches and work on my core, I'm going to be able to BEAT that Kentucky Derby FULL Marathon coming up in April. Yes Ma'am I will! Or at least that's my 26.2 cents worth and hey, if you're working on paying your debt off, every 26.2 cents counts. Can I get an amen?
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