When we see through our hearts, we recognize that every single one of us is infused with creativity. Divine Sparks are embedded in everyone and everything. It's up to us to be courageous, to look and listen deeply, to find the sparks, gather and release them back into the universe, transformed into something new. Join me as we wake up to the sacred-ordinary blessings waiting to greet us each and every day.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Happy 17th Birthday Belin
today's small stone:
When "memory" and "nostalgia" meet "here" and "now" they must find a way to fit into the same glass slipper (or Momma's big boots) without shattering anything.
I found this priceless quote on my friendDr. Jay's bloga while ago and have been waiting to share it with the thoughts it inspired in me.
“It isn’t necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice. There are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia.”
Your world began with ice...an incredible, crystal landscape welcomed you as Daddy drove down the center of the highway, because there were no "lanes" due to the storm that brought you into the world. Right from the start you had your own path Belin.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
On an early November evening not so long ago, I finished helping you dress up for an elegant Sweet Sixteen party for one of your friends. And as I started my mommarazzi extravaganza, annoying you mercilessly with my endless photo shoot, I looked through the lens and thought: “Holy crap, you look like a woman! When did this happen??”
I saw it, see it happening gradually every day, but it isn't until moments like the evening I described above, when you are dressed to the nines, that I finally realize my little girl...isn't anymore. You've turned some corner and behold; before me stands a beautiful young woman. You are 17 today Belin. You have much maturing to do before you can fully claim adulthood, but still, on that evening, you suddenly looked like a grown woman gazing at yourself in front of the antique mirror above the bureau from Aunt Bella, your namesake.
My daughter, you hold equal interest in forensic anthropology (bones that tell stories), the written word, rocks and minerals, speaking French, the ancient peoples of the British Isles, cooking vegetarian cuisine with your own delicious creative flair, and everything there is to know about Harry Potter and his magical world.
So is this the end of the world, my world, as you turn and pass through a door?
Is this what Zappa meant, this sinking feeling of missing my little girl and your prized "Barbie's from around the world" collection that once occupied space on your shelf, boxed and stored away for years now? The tiny blond child with abundant curls, building fairy houses in every nook between the above-ground tree roots you could find in our yard? The same child I read bedtime stories to, over and over until you could do it yourself, at which point getting you to close a book and go to sleep became an impossible quest? Clearly I'm more caught up in nostalgia than paperwork!
Oh darling, eldest daughter, beautiful and open when you choose,
inward and longing for solitude often, because that nourishes you
with your brilliant, inquisitive mind, sharp wit and infectious belly giggle,
impossibly tiny Cinderella feet, (size 5!)
that will take you exactly where you need to go in this life