Maybe He Just Likes You by Barbara Dee

I read this book. While it’s marketed for middle graders, I recommend it. Much of what the main character goes through brought up memories primarily from when I was in 7th and 8th grade. Memories I had buried that were connected with bullying and harassment and friendship and not having the words for feelings experienced and shrinking parts of oneself to get through because getting through seemed to be the only way to “deal.” I don’t know how reading a book like this then would have shaped me. Maybe it would have just given me language to voice/ better process certain emotions and experiences. Thing is, having that language coupled with also having someone to talk to, someone sensitive enough to notice and ask questions and listen, could, ultimately, only have helped. At the very least, this book can help to start those extremely important conversations.  And while I can see some taking issue with aspects of how the primary conflict is “resolved”, and the interactions of some of the characters after that, I find myself very much championing the actions taken by the main character and grateful to this author and all who were a part of the journey that brought this book into existence.  Something else I feel called to say is how important it is to remember that every child is unique. What can be of service to one won’t necessarily be the same for another. But we keep that truth in mind and, as best as we can, stay vigilant and communicate and listen. I think that’s about all we can “control.”

Pain. Anger. Fear. Cheering you on PSA

Pain. Anger. Fear.

Action step one: Breathe.  Feel what you feel. Feel and breathe. Repeat.

Side effects may include: Tears, Feelings of helplessness, Feelings of rage, Seemingly never ending keening, Making sounds you normally wouldn’t, Saying things you normally wouldn’t, In the case of anger, wishing you could set things on fire—like the corner of someone’s sleeve—just for the time it’d take for them to feel the heat that you feel.

Duration: As long as it takes to experience a break in the intensity.

Action step two: If and when ready, make the decision that you are open to healing. Deeply rooted healing. Start with just making the decision and gently keep returning to that decision. 

Side effects may include (in no particular order and may show up again and again) : Struggle with the idea, Doubt that any healing is possible, Temptation to give up, Inviting someone you trust into the conversation, Investing time and attention into what healing feels like to you, Gradual commitment to the decision, “Little” shifts in perspective, Commitment to your healing journey.

Duration: As long as it takes.

Cheering. You. On.

Seen from the Bus in Brooklyn— A Smile

As the bus came to a stop at the light, I glanced over and out the right side window just as a young boy, a few feet away on the sidewalk, came into view. Perhaps 7, 8, or 9, he looked to be of Asian descent and was in motion, beaming — like he was joy incarnate— and carrying what looked to be a paper airplane. He dodged and laughed as he was chased by an older, taller boy who looked to me to be 11 or 12, also of Asian descent, but definitely not laughing. In possession of his own paper airplane, the older boy attempted to launch it at the younger. But falling short of its target before succumbing to gravity, its only noticeable impact was to cause the younger boy to laugh with even more glee and launch his airplane in retaliation. His, too, fell short of the intended destination. Then my bus continued on and both boys moved out of frame, and I resumed the rest of my journey accompanied by the memory of his smile.

Slowing Down to Continue Together— Boy on the Sidewalk in Brooklyn

Standing at the bus stop, appreciating the invigorating wind shower even as the pewter gray clouds held promises of more rain, across the street, I noticed as a group of four exited their home— recognizing one as a member of the family whose Thai takeout place I sometimes patronized. 

The adult in the party and the two youngest ones were towards the front. Of that trio, one was a girl who looked to be around 12 years of age, and the other was a smiling boy who looked around 7 or 8. Bringing up the rear, several paces behind, was a tall girl— the one I had recognized as attending to me a few times in the restaurant. She struck me as being around 15 or so.

I saw when the young boy noticed the older girl was farther behind. And then, interspersed through a series of backward glances, as though testing the waters, I watched him initiate a few lines of conversation, before finally committing to the decision to slow down so he could walk with her.  

His actions struck me— said something to me about the boy and about his relationship with the girl. As did the companionable way in which they continued the rest of the journey together. His actions made me think of trust and caring and love and what it meant as a child in a grouping of people to make the decision to walk alongside the person you wanted to spend more time with. 

And then, his actions made me think of what it felt like to be welcomed.

Two Seen on a Sidewalk in Brooklyn— Man and Little Girl

Carrying my grocery bags, I made my way up the street about two blocks from where I lived. The sun had set since I’d left work two hours ago. And now, two trains, a visit to the grocery store, and one bus later, I would soon be home.  Up ahead, a man and a young girl exited a restaurant. 

They were both dressed for the brisk Fall weather ushered in by the torrential rains from the night before. He had on a sturdy looking jacket above his jeans and was wearing what appeared from the back to be a baseball hat. She had on tights under a purple sweatshirt and a few steps into their journey, drew up its hood.

They felt like father and daughter. Or, more specifically like a Daddy and his little girl on their way home after having dinner. Initially, they held hands, but in the wake of the hood settling down on her head, they’d come to a mutual agreement that resulted in him carrying her while she looped her left arm around his neck.

As they walked, I could hear them speaking softly while they took in their surroundings. When they stopped in front of a specialty hardware store, he pointed out some things, she stayed engaged, and then they moved on. 

Our paths ended up diverging when they crossed to the other side of the street.  But as I watched their continued close, easy interaction, I found myself thinking of my younger brother and my niece— his bright, funny, wonderful, six year old daughter. I could see my brother carrying my niece and connecting with her in the same way. And that was a lovely thought to carry me the rest of the way home.

A Quote. Thoughts. (Cheering. You. On)

“You make the best choices you can and let the rest flow.”— Diego Sanchez, High School Senior, character in the book: The Universal Laws of Marco by Carmen Rodrigues. 

I would add revisiting, from where you are now, the whys of those choices made, for the purposes of clarity, growth and healing.

Also wanted to take a moment to wish you good luck with the rest of your today.  And all of the tomorrows. Cheering. You. On.

Self Reflection

I consider myself to be a private person, who sometimes, in certain situations, in certain company, gives into the, sometimes inexplicable, pull to share. But because I primarily see myself as a private person, when someone starts to ask me questions— seemingly harmless enough questions, but questions asked or asked in a manner/ with an energy that for some reason triggers raising up the drawbridge — my first instinct is, “Why are you all up in this?” But I’ve been observing. And in observing, realizing that, in some cases, the other person is expressing a genuine interest and what I might share might actually be helpful to them in some way either now or in the long run. Might 😉 So, I feel it out.  And I keep an eye on the drawbridge. And I keep observing.

Thoughts As I Navigate the Plot Twist (Cheering. You. On.)

I’m breathing and flowing within the plot twists, and working to employ the tools that’ll best help me navigate— the tools that contribute towards me feeling like, in the midst of the unexpected, I’m playing my part to take conscious care of myself. And I’m wishing the same for you. Good luck with the rest of your day. Cheering. You. On.

Thoughts on A form of Regret (Cheering. You. On.)

It’s easy to beat up on yourself for not responding in the “perfect” way to something someone said or actions someone took that left you too shocked to articulate a response — let alone your best response— in the moment. 

You find yourself revisiting the event, carrying that shock at what was done, in addition to carrying around that feeling of l-wish-I-had-thought-to_______.

But the truth is you did what you were able to do in the moment. You did. And now that you’ve spent some time revisiting the moment from your now perspective, know that just because you’d do things differently if you could go back in time, again, doesn’t negate that you did what you were able to do back then. The fact that you can see a different choice now just points to learning.

And, hopefully, to you, that learning feels like growth. And if it does, if you can claim it/ see it as growth, then revisit that feeling of growth every time you’re tempted to revisit the past with, l-wish-I-had-thought-to_______.  Cheering. You. On.

The Soundtrack Of Play

I was crossing the street when I first noticed the sound. It was coming from a few feet behind me.

I was on a street full of people, but this vocal, non-distinctive (thereby making it all the more distinctive), carefree, non-sensical sound brought to my mind the image of a child wrapped up in play. It caught my attention because it was different from the sounds of traffic all around me. But then it held my attention because I didn’t hear an adult companion chiming in with hushing sounds, or attempts to engage in conversation.  

The sound followed me down the stairs, into the subway station and continued as I made my way to the subway platform. Then, as the train pulled in, I turned around and found it was coming from a child— a bright eyed boy of around 5 or 6 with the warm dark brown skin often associated with people of South Asian descent. He was dressed casually in jeans and a green hoodie— the latter made even more distinctive because the hood was in the style of a frog’s head with cartoon-like eyes sitting on the top. It was adorable. He was adorable.  And he had a male guardian with him. 

When the train doors opened up, we boarded the same car—the young one quickly scrambling onto a vacant seat, his guardian crossing over to stand quietly in front of him.  Settling more comfortably into the seat, the boy continued his soundtrack of play, while the guardian pulled out his phone and began scrolling through.

When another passenger got up, freeing the seat next to him, the boy, enthusiastically patted the seat, calling out to his guardian, “Daddy! Daddy!”

So, as the train pulled into my stop, the man called, Daddy, put away his phone before slowly sitting down. And as I exited the car, I heard the bright light of a boy once again resume his carefree soundtrack of play.

Snapshot of Two Seen on the Subway

They were family. And judging by their facial features, possibly, mother and daughter. Daughter looked to be about 18, but I can’t be certain she wasn’t slightly younger or a few years older. When they’d initially boarded and gotten settled in the subway car, the daughter (because the more I observed, the more she felt like her daughter) pulled out some headphones, put the connecting end into the phone, placed one end of the receiver into her ear, and gave the other to her mother. The daughter seemed quietly eager to share while the mother, seemingly more restrained, quietly obliged. 

Hearing the daughter’s laugh, a few stops into the ride, I glanced up to see the mother now smiling. Slightly turned in towards each other, both had been listening through the headphones while looking at something on the phone screen. Perhaps sensing my gaze, the mother looked at me— her smile still lingering from the shared experience with her daughter. Giving her a smile of my own, I turned my attention back to my phone. 

The next time I looked up was after the girl kissed her mother’s cheek.  Glimpsing the tail end of that visual, I saw her stand, say goodbye and then hurry out through the train doors.

On the heels of her exit, I found myself thinking of my mother and how much I love her.

Sunny by Bob Hebb

When I was around 13 or 14 or so, I heard a tiny snippet of this song on a commercial advertising a compilations of songs.  The snippet stuck with me. Got filed away in memory as one of those “random” experiences from childhood that gets inexplicably filed away.  Luckily the snippet also included the name of the song, and for some reason, I was inspired to search for it a few weeks ago.  I found it, listened to the whole song and then found this live recording of Bobby Hebb singing his song. So I share a song I love :) Good luck with all the moments that make up your today. Cheering. You. On.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ChZieeFVaBE

A Moment of Play seen on the Subway

Two walked into the subway car. A little girl, possibly 5 or 6 years of age, and her guardian— very likely her mother. And as the train resumed its journey, they stood, holding on to a subway pole, keeping close —a gentleness to their energy.  

At some point, they began playing a game. It consisted of the guardian teasingly reaching out with her index finger to touch the little girl’s arm, while the little girl tried to evade it before contact was made. The game was contained— the parameters of the playing space, narrow.  But it was obvious they were delighted and very much engaged. They looked to be of Spanish descent.

Sitting not too far away, I, too enjoyed their interaction, smiling along with the guardian when she succeeded in making contact that had the little girl giggling quietly. And smiling every time the guardian’s almost contact —full of teasing— resulted in the the girl tensing up in anticipation. 

They were having fun and making wonderful use (and possibly wonderful memories) out of their time spent riding the subway, getting from point A to point B. And I got to share in it :) Lucky me :)

Sunday Morning at the BBG

Spent the morning at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Saw a lot of dads playing peekaboo hide-and-go-seek behind trees with their toddlers.  I had a few laughs watching one guardian in particular trying to take a picture of his little girl. He had adjusted something on her dress and then moved away to get some distance to snap the pic. But as soon as he was ready, she walked away.  At another point, she sat down on the grass and he quickly moved into position to take the shot, only for her to decide a second later that she’d changed her mind by getting up and, again, walking away. Another father tried to get his toddler’s attention by banging out a tune with two sticks. But she was focused on exploring the grassy terrain around her. Glad I went. It was such perfect weather. Hope to visit more now that the weather’s getting a little cooler.

Bliss in the Breeze

For a moment, early this evening, as I stood at a packed bus stop alongside the after work crowd, waiting to begin the final leg of my commute home, I felt the pull to turn off a podcast, close my eyes and breathe. And in doing so, I was greeted by the warm, welcoming, perfect caress of the wind gliding upon my skin, causing everything in me to soften and further deepen my awareness of the moment. Felt like bliss 😊

Flashback at the Doctor's Office

Today was my first doctor visit with a new doctor, in a new office.

I was early and therefore had time to fill out the giant stack of forms.  A fellow waiting room patient joked it was practically like taking an exam in school with its multiple choice, fill in the blank and mini essay section. On my way back from handing it in, the same patient asked if I passed. I admitted to him I was granted the opportunity to take a section home as I didn’t have all the answers on me.  He replied with, “Homework!” And we both laughed 😄

Some minutes later, I looked over in time to see one of the attendants come out holding a folder. She went directly to the receptionist who had checked me in and pointed to something in the folder. Next thing I heard was the receptionist saying she couldn’t help and that she was on her own. 

Back in the day, whenever I started a new school or course that required the enrollees’ names being called out, I would always listen with such focus. As the instructor went through the names alphabetically, my attention would sharpen as we got closer to the the letter O. 100% of the time there would be a pause right before my name and before they could attempt it I would quickly put my hand up in the air and say, “Present!”

All those memories came rushing back in that moment as I sat there in the waiting room. It had been years since I’d been in that particular situation of having to listen for my birth name. But I knew the attendant and receptionist were afraid of pronouncing my first name incorrectly. Quickly I put my hand up in the air and called out to them saying I knew they were talking about me. The attendant looked over and took a stab. At my last name. Which she got right. I congratulated her. She looked relieved and we all laughed.

An Unexpected Delight

When I exit my home and begin my commute to work, I have one of three bus stops to choose to wait at for the first leg of my journey. When I got to the first one, I looked down the street for signs of my bus. Nothing. So I continued on. But a few steps later, I heard a voice call out, asking if I was waiting on the B41. I looked over to find I was speaking to a bus driver.  His wasn’t one of the buses that stopped on my route and I could tell his bus was technically not in service yet.  

I confirmed that I was indeed waiting on the B41. He then asked if I was headed to, “The Junction.” Ultimately, I was as that’s where I would make my first train connection. 

“Yes,” I called back out to him again. To which he replied, “Get in.  I’m headed in that direction.” 

This is the second time this has happened to me— being picked up by an off duty bus driver and taken to the next leg of my work commute journey. But even if it were my fifth, I feel I’d still be delighted by it!  I mean, I have the entire bus to myself and we’re going express to my next destination! 

So, I got onboard and I told him how grateful I was and how awesome it was of him to extend such kindness!  I then spent the bus ride alternating between, “This is so cool!” and asking questions to learn a bit about him. I learned that with his schedule, today was actually his first day of the work week—so effectively his Monday. I learned he used to drive school buses before his current gig with the MTA (Metropolitan Transportation Authority).  He’d been driving for the MTA for about 8 years now. He was originally from DC. Had three children — two who lived in Marlboro, Maryland and a son in Miami, Florida who was a physical therapist. 

When he dropped me off, I once again shared how wonderful it was that he had extended this kindness and how he’d made my morning and that it was such a beautiful way to begin my commute. I wished him all the best. He smiled back at me, and one of the last things he said as I was stepping out was, “I wish you a wonderful life.”😊. Ditto Mr. Bus Driver Man! Ditto squared! 😊

A Bus and a Little Boy

Standing on the bus during the final leg of my after work commute, when we stopped at the light, I watched a little boy and his guardian cross the street. 

The little boy looked to be around three and his left hand was securely held in that of his male guardian’s. In his right hand, peeking through the tight huddle of four of his fingers, there appeared to be a tiny toy vehicle, while the fifth finger—the index— pointed at my bus.  And as he moved, as he was being guided by his guardian, his pointing altered slightly to match the magnet of his attention that was the bus.

Eyes, wide, he never looked away. 

Even when his guardian addressed him, the boy continued staring and his finger continued pointing. 

The guardian noticed and while he did speak to the little boy as he led him safely across the street— in a manner acknowledging that he, too, saw the bus—, he didn’t appear to rush him or come across as impatient. 

When the bus began to move, the last I saw of them, they’d made it to the sidewalk and stopped.  And the little boy was still wide eyed, still innocently staring and pointing.

 

It Began with a fly and Ended with Broken Glass

It began with a fly and ended with broken glass.

It’s evening. I had been home from work for about 45 minutes. I had been snacking on a mango when I saw something fly across the room. Thinking it was lightning bug, I looked for a container to catch it— the plan being to release him out of doors. I try to do this when I feel I can— release critters who have somehow managed to get inside, outside. So, container in hand, I waited. Then I heard the buzzing. Then I saw it was not a lightning bug, but a house fly. 

A Goliath of a house fly. I can’t stress that enough. This was the type of fly one might nickname, “Tiny.” For irony. And as I couldn’t see how to lure the fly outside, I took the comparison further by becoming David to his Goliath. 

About 30 minutes later, I saw something fly across the room again. It was another house fly. It wasn’t as massive as the first one, but it still looked to me to be slightly larger than your average fly. 

It landed on the glass panel of a slightly elevated window. It’s not a window one can really open. In fact, right next to it is the square window panel that can only be slid open to reveal netting. So, I got up on a chair and tried to get at the fly, and the window that’s not supposed to open, opened. And fell to the ground outside with a crash. And as the fly flew away, I stood looking at my now windowless window.

I called my landlord. He came by, picked up the window pane. It had cracked and dislodged some of its glass but there appeared to be a second, intact enough layer for him to put it back in the window and add some tape as a temporary solution. He said he’d have to do some investigation on how it might be repaired and since it happened while I went after a fly, I’d have to cover the replacement. Sigh.  He went back to his home. I went into mine and I decided I needed to draw some cards. It’s something I do. Three cards. Release and Surrender, Fresh Air, Life Purpose. 

So, I’m releasing and surrendering the situation and affirming however it unfolds, it’ll be fine. I may have to consciously keep doing this every time I’m tempted to do the opposite 😬😉The Fresh Air card made me laugh a little because for a good 5 minutes there I definitely had fresh air literally coming into the place😜But— as is the case with the final card— I see another way of interpreting it. 

Putting my cards away, I sent a text to my landlord and thanked him for his help. 

And now? I’m actively working on releasing and surrendering it😬

Rainbow! 6/19/19

I saw a rainbow this morning.

The sight filled me with delight!

I’m such a stan I got in some pics 
Before the clouds rolled by.

Happy Father’s Day 2019

To the fathers, fathering, loving, listening, engaging, encouraging, doing the work to heal so the generation to come reaps what was consciously sowed.  For all the trying and the doing, the sincere guardianship of the souls under your care, and for that caring made manifest in the hugs, talks, tough and not so tough decisions.  For all your time spent, from someone navigating the world with your child, I thank you. Happy Father’s Day.

Snapshot of Love— Little Girl, Stairs, Winning

Standing on the up bound escalator, destination street side, I glanced over to the bustling pedestrian traffic hiking the long lane of stairs to my right. Many literal steps ahead, I noticed a young girl, determinedly covering ground, make it to the top, turn around and beam triumphantly at  her almost there guardian. Not a smile, not a grin, but a full on beam radiating a palpable sense of accomplishment. I couldn’t help but share in her enthusiasm and smile. Maybe next week I’ll take the stairs. 

Personal Musings on Giving the Benefit of the Doubt

Recently had three situations where I was waiting on replies from others and was reminded of the importance of giving said others the benefit of the doubt. With the first one, we had been texting — I had been asking questions and she had been replying and then she stopped.  About five days later she finished replying as if no time had passed. With the second one, I sent an email and learned two weeks later that he didn’t get my message. With the third, I sent him a text about a week and a half ago and I happened to see him in passing this evening and he broached the topic saying he was working on my request.  In his case, he’s my landlord and, technically, I first made this request about two years ago and just became more insistent about it in my last text😬What did I re-learn from all of this? I say “re-learn” because I’ve been taught this through experience before😬. 1) Still the temptation to jump to conclusions regarding why I haven’t heard back from someone, 2) If I started with a text or an email, give it a week or so and, if possible, follow up in person—going into it without assuming the lack of a reply is personal or deliberate. I mean, it could turn out that it was. But it could also not 😬😉

Phone call w/ Mr. C

I had a lovely exchange with a customer today. I’ll call him Mr. C. He teaches 2nd grade.  He has a class field trip scheduled for tomorrow and called to see about getting an extra ticket. Once he communicated that, he apologized for putting me on speaker phone. He explained that he had been on hold for a bit and switched it on to get some things done and now that we were both on the line, he wasn’t sure how to turn it off. I reassured him I couldn’t tell I was on speaker and that normally I could. As I put in his order, he figured it out and let me know. I congratulated him and we shared a laugh.  Still getting his order together, he asked if I was another person he’d spoken with before— gave her name. I said I wasn’t. He then asked my name and when I gave it, enthusiastically replied that I was the first person he’d spoken to when setting up the trip some months ago and how fitting it was to connect again as he was possibly buying a final ticket for it now. I was very much enjoying our exchange and agreed that it did seem fitting— almost full circle. I then gave him his order number and explained needing to take payment since the show was tomorrow. He asked me a few more questions and finally decided he’d wait until morning just to be certain he didn’t require any more tickets. I thought it wise and told him what he’d want to do when reaching out the next day. Then he said, “So you said, “Q..” And I paused, confused, silently putting the conversation on playback mode, just to be certain I hadn’t said the random letter before giving voice to my denial. “You were giving me an order number” he continued, and realization dawned. I told him I had said, “2.”  And he laughed and shared a story of paying bills with State Farm and how they would give letters as part of the order number and he didn’t understand why they did this as some letters could easily sound like others over the phone. Instantly connecting with his story, I found myself laughing, telling him I knew of what he spoke as we, in the office, encountered it all the time with names and email addresses to the point where I habitually encouraged going a step further to make sure we were typing in “S” as in “Sam” instead of “F” as in Frank, etc. He laughed. I laughed. And the conversation ended with him saying he’d reach out in the morning about the ticket. I thought of the exchange again hours later when I got home. What a lovely, unexpected connection it had been. If I end up taking his call in the morning, it’ll be awesome. But if not, then it’ll be the final person in our trio of a department. And that would be fitting, too :)

Poem: Mother’s Day 2019

You, 

who care, 

who loves, 

who gives,

who tries,

who considers the best for those who call you, 

mom, mommy, ma, mother, mama (or a variation on the title)

You, who have embarked upon and committed to 

the massive mind-body-heart-spirit-engaging adventure called, parenting.

You are extraordinary.

You are a S-hero. 

Every. Day.

Thank you. Bless you.

Snapshot of Love on a Sidewalk in Brooklyn

Pinpricks of rain picking up speed had begun to fall as the guardian and little girl exited the building. Realizing after a few short strides that he had gotten ahead of her, he glanced back. 

Looking to be about 5 or 6, bright eyed, hair swept up into a full, gorgeous puff ponytail, she was slowly moving down the sidewalk, which was lined on one side with businesses, staying as close as possible to the sliver of shelter provided by their awnings. Observing her, he smiled, and walking back, held above her head the priority mail type envelope he had been carrying in hand. 

As I passed by, she smiled up at him and the exchange made me think of loving fathers and loved little daughters.

Four on the Subway in Brooklyn

Sitting on the subway, looking over I noticed a family unit of four. A young, stylish looking mother, a little girl — possibly 4 or so, a young boy— possibly 10 or so, and a slightly older boy—maybe 13. The older boy and little girl were sitting down and playing with a squishy looking toy that, when met with the right amount of pressure, lit up. It was primarily the little girl’s toy— she was very much its guardian— but she was loosely open to suggestions from the older boy on how to play with it, and even allowed him, on occasion, to join in on the playing.  

The other boy, who stood for their entire ride, looked on and deliberately made teasing comments that, successfully, drew vocal  disagreements from the little girl. The woman, also standing, alternated between keeping an eye on them, checking her phone, and checking her hair in the subway car door reflection.

One stop before they got off, the woman moved closer to the door.  The boy that stood, at home with entertaining himself, silently danced his way to a pole closer to the same door.  His dancing brought to mind the choo-choo train step complete with alternating arms, wheel like, powering him along. As the train began slowing down, the woman held out her hand and the little girl climbed down from her seat before proffering hers. Then looking over at the still sitting older boy, the little girl, with the confidence and authority often embodied by little children called out, “Come on____!” His name, to my ear, lost in pronunciation.

Without teasing, without delay, without taking offense, just simple acquiescence that spoke volumes of him and their relationship, he got up easily and joined the party several seconds before the doors opened and they exited the car.

Early Morning Commute on a Subway Platform

Tall, older adolescent male teen (perhaps in high school), with his left hand (propeller like) on the upper back of his younger, smaller female sibling (perhaps elementary school), speedily navigating the subway platform during their early morning commute — presumably to school.  Gesture and body language brought to my mind, a closeness, and friendship— oftentimes teasing, but undoubtedly loving. She wore a sly smile and his expression seemed to say, if left entirely up to her, they’d be late.

Snapshot of Love: Seen on the Bus

Sitting on the bus, I found myself drawn to a family of four. Based on the dress of the adults, they appeared to be a family of (maybe) Middle Eastern descent comprised of a mother and father, a son, possibly around 12 or so, and a daughter, perhaps age 7 or 8.

When I first noticed them, the mother and son were listening intently to something the young girl was saying. The father was sitting across the aisle from the girl and he, too, was listening, and then they all smiled. 

At the next stop, an older, African American lady with a rolling walker got on and sat near the man. As she collapsed the top part of the walker to draw the rest closer to her body, I watched the man kindly offer to hold it for her. She declined, smiling, but did ask him to dip her fare card so she could pay for her ride. Obliging, he got up, dipped the card, returned it to its grateful owner, and sat back down. He really was just beautifully kind. Everything about his energy in the unfolding interaction just hummed with kindness. Glancing back over, I saw the rest of his family quietly watching. 

Last I saw of them, the little girl was once again speaking, the father now leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, and with the rest of the family looking on, smiling and responding. 

A snapshot of love.

Poem: Getting through this

So this is where we find ourselves.

Literally. And figuratively.

This moment, filled with the palpable weight of how-will-we-get-beyond-this?

Well, to get beyond this, we must get through this.

But let it be with conscious, deliberate intent.

Engaging that potential harbinger of clarity, breath, 

Harnessing her strength, setting a course for land.

Inviting along the invisible and visible forces of love,

A heartfelt call for all hands on deck. 

After all, if truly loving, we can but only thrive with them on the crew.

Surely this is the most loving place to embark upon solutions? Surely this is a most helpful beginning to getting through this?

C. Y. O. Xx

Seen on the Escalator

Exiting the train, I joined the escalator queue headed street side. Glancing down, I claimed the step for my journey.  Glancing up, I noticed the man in front of me was dancing. At first I mistook it as being surreptitious. But watching him more carefully, I realized that in the slow, contained circling of his hips, joined seconds later by a graceful, yet still contained, coming together of both arms, akin to a stirring motion, in front of his body, he was just adapting the moves to the confines of the space. A few seconds of watching the effects of the music, in his ears only, coursing through his body and spying a smile when he briefly paused in profile, there was no doubt in my mind that despite the space limitations, he was very much feeling it😊

March

February took the midnight train outta town last night, and a minute later, March, well, marched through the door. Time’s gonna spring forward with her in town. Literally. 😉 She might even help you out with a bit ‘o cleaning 😉Enjoy her visit ♥️ C. Y. O. Xx

To One in Pain

No amount of proffered empathy can comfort you in the depths of your pain and keening grief.

But I surround you with love and call upon the visible and invisible forces of love to help us both know the next best step to take.

Hello on the Streets in Brooklyn

A stranger said hello to me today.

Journeying in opposite directions, 

We passed each other on the street.

Making eye contact in the wake of his greeting,

Holding my gaze in return, I felt him present.

And though we kept on walking,

I proffered a sweet hello, 

Meeting his offer of brief connection 

With awareness and a lingering smile.

Focus on Healing

“They should know better” is a seductive way of seeing. Obviously they don’t because their actions or words prove otherwise. Since it’s obvious they don’t, and since it’s obvious it’s bothering you, then speak up. If you can’t speak up, then focus on what you can do that is ultimately healing—focus on your own actions or thoughts that ultimately contributes to healing physically, mentally, emotionally, energetically. C. Y. O. Xx

Notice. Victory.

Don’t ignore the victories.
Acknowledge them.
And in acknowledging, celebrate their existence.
The oh-so-hard experiences, often, commandeer our attention. For so long. 
Mentally. Emotionally. Energetically.
Therefore, when recognizing a break in the weather,
when some light seeps through the clouds, it’s fitting, it’s imperative, we notice and take steps towards reclaiming balance.
It’s imperative we notice, and we celebrate the victories.

Experiencing love in a Jewelry Store

Stepped into a jewelry store to have a new battery placed into my wristwatch. Already in the store was a lady with her young son.  Bundled up for winter in his coat and hat, he looked to be about 4. His mom was being attended to and before long I turned my attention away from them as another employee came to assist me.  With the exception of the lady, her son and myself, everything else in the store, including the two attendants, was separated from us by glass.

While my new battery was being inserted, I looked over and saw the little boy was now occupied, playing with a yellow balloon that had a smiling cartoon face on it. He would hit it into the air and then run after it.  At one point he called out insistingly, “Mom, it’s your turn!” But at the time, Mom’s attention was on her phone.  When the balloon landed on a too high ledge, I stepped in, got it down for him and was rewarded with eye contact, a smile and a grateful, “Thank you!” Then he sent the balloon towards me and I found myself sending it back, effectively agreeing to playing with him for the duration of our time together.  Later, as he was very good at calling out whose turn it was to go after the balloon, his mom joined us. In passing, she said to me something to the effect that the store was such a great place to toss a balloon. Laughing at the humor of her delivery, I replied that at least everything was protected by glass, and followed up with how wonderful that he was so happily engaged with the simple game of hitting the balloon up into the air and catching it.  She agreed to both observations.

When it came time for me to leave, as I began to wave goodbye, he asked me for a hug. Surprised but charmed, I obliged, leaning down and giving him one. As I began straightening up, he added, “And a kiss!”  Now, even more surprised and even more charmed, I looked over at his mother to make sure it was okay, all the while thinking, this little boy was loved and obviously was used to hugs and kisses from the loving adults in his life.  In fact so loved and so comfortable that he saw no reason not to make the request of a stranger who took the time to play with him.  Being on the receiving end of such trust, innocence and, honestly, love, I wanted to fulfill his request and hoped his mother would allow it.  Giving her consent with a smile, I turned my attention back and crouching down once again, kissed him on the cheek, and thought of my six year old niece who also loves to give kisses and show affection.  Looking back at his mom, I told her he was just wonderful! She thanked me and I wished them both a great rest of their day, leaving the store with a smile on my face, and the words, “What a beautiful little boy!” in the forefront of my mind.

Self worth

Every thought, every action that brings you closer to nurturing healthy self worth deserves a mental parade, complete with marching bands, balloons, floats. I believe.

Blessings

Sometimes in life, while adrift in the sea of This-is-oh-so-Hard, I happen upon a form of assistance, that can ease, even if just for a little while, whatever Hard is calling upon me to channel Atlas.  A life enabler in the form of a sudden, in.conscious, technicolor remembering of blessings, dawns in me, so that at second glance, This-is-oh-so-Hard, transforms into This-is-oh-so-Hard-(deep inhale. slow exhale)-But... 

Poem: Two Ds

When I reach out and am met with no reply, it re-triggers a wounding.

I think:

Why is my time and energy seemingly not worth honoring?

Depending on the situation, I think:

Did I say too much?

Ultimately, I think: what did I do to warrant no replies?

Of course, you can be busy.

But if I have to reach out again and, possibly, again

It’s a D:

Yours stands for Dishonoring.

Mine, if I choose to accept it, Disempowering.

Relishing Abundance

Earlier this evening, as I made my way to the subway station after work, I walked by a pigeon getting his fill of a slice of premium looking pizza someone had dropped on the sidewalk. This pigeon was unflappable and completely committed to embracing the, dare I say unexpected, abundance? Pigeon was chowing down, enjoying that slice! Didn’t even shake a tail feather when a human flew by, rolling luggage in tow, a mere few inches away from pigeon and pizza.