Fierce

i found god in myself & i loved her
i loved her fiercely

- Ntozake Shange

Gratefulness

I've written here a number of times about my belief that gratitude is one of the most important practices for maintaining optimism in the face of life's difficulties, so I was charmed to discover Gratefuness.org.  However, I certainly was challenged by the "Good Day" video to cultivate an even deeper level of gratefulness, but I was also pleased to see one of my favorite images:  the California poppy against a brilliant blue sky.  Something about this captures my spirit, a childhood raised in the California sun, surrounded by the precious wildflowers.

Bliss

Baby E has just seemed to blossom lately, with precious smiles and frequent kisses.  At 18 months, he hasn't yet developed that classic toddler defiance.  It is absolute bliss to be his parent, and I miss him when we are apart during the day.

I've written before about how deeply healing his love is to me, but I realized over the weekend that my desire for more children might really be this simple.  Why wouldn't I want more of this amazing, pure love in my life?  Why wouldn't I want more people who love me with such an intensity?

I can think of a few responses, the first of which is "Ask me again when he is not Baby E, but Toddler E, or Tween E, or Google-forbid Defiant Teen E."

Also, does this desire for more love mean that the love of Papa D and E isn't enough? 

New era

Since the new year, our adoption has undergone an enormous change. While - before - we only knew his name, we are now in contact with Baby E's birthfather, Papa A.

It's been an intensely emotional experience, but in only a few brief encounters so profound too. We've had to face our own fears and insecurities, which has been humbling. I've struggled with my need to make everyone feel "okay" about the adoption and the pressure that puts on me.  And we've wrestled with a new understanding of the circumstances of the adoption and the decisions his birthmother made.


But it's all worth it, because we've learned so much about Papa A and his family that we can now share with Baby E when he gets older.  It's such a deep relief to be able to say "We know that Papa A loves you." 

Breadcrumbs

When I question whether this is the right career for me, I sometimes look back on my life and it's striking how I seem to be preparing for this job my whole life.  I mean, it certainly never seemed clear to me through high school and college.  I felt like I was flying blind on my first professional job search, "Marketing and public relations, that sounds good, I'm a people person."  And it turned out I was incredibly well-suited for it, a fact that I was clueless about but my mentors saw clearly.

Looking through the papers I inherited from my mother, I found some evidence of the groundwork laid for this career:

• My first publication, a newsletter for my junior high school
• A journal from my eighth-grade internship with a "advertising agent."  Actually, she seemed to be a work-at-home, freelance creative director.

In ninth grade and again in the 11th grade, I wrote for the school paper.

The thing that is a bit questionable about this line of thinking is that I don't believe there is ONE right career (just like I've said I don't believe in One True Love or One Perfect Baby).  There are a number of possible options that can match your abilities and skills. Take a look at this list of possible careers for ENFJ.  Of those, my current career has encompassed: Writer, event coordinator, manager, and consultant.  It was actually my first mentors who had me Myers-Briggs tested, and it really helped my sense that it was a good career path.

But when I think about exploring other options, I consider careers in psychology, social work, clergy, and teaching - all good fits for my personality and character.

Another fun thing from my mom's records is a report card from my fifth-grade teacher:

"K is a bright, articulate and energetic person.  Unfortunately she does not apply herself to her school work with consistent effort that reflects her abilities. If the tasks can be completed without too much of an expenditure of energy, she will do a good job.  She resists having to really work at solving a problem or completing a task."

I think pretty much every teacher from high school and college - and every boss - would say these exact same words about me.   This one doesn't include the comment that was on most of my early report cards: "K needs to stop talking to her classmates."

I'd still pretty much rather just play and hang out with friends than work.  Like I said, I'm a people person.

Developments

Last week, I accepted a full-time job with my Big Client, which will start on July 1.  This is a move away from freelancing, but we're happy about that.  This position will give me economic stability, plus retirement benefits, and I'll be working from home several days a week, with a flexible schedule.  The boss and coworkers are super lovely people, the organization is very functional, and they're really financially sound (hiring up during the recession!). It has all the elements of a dream job, and I am optimistic that this could be a long-term solution for our family.

Revelation

There is a whole world of religious podcasts that I never knew existed - on iTunes! This is huge for me - what a breakthrough!

I can listen to whole services from the comfort of my commute. It doesn't remove me from my family on the weekends. Yet I can still explore the world of religion, safely sample different religious traditions. I've downloaded a raft of Pagan, Unitarian, Episcopal, Jewish and Quaker podcasts, and I hope to be discussing them here.

Today, I listened to the "Alone in the Wilderness" service from St. Augustine's Episcopal Chapel at Vanderbilt University, with a sermon by my new virtual minister, Becca Stevens. It was lovely, with heart-stirring music performed on the acoustic guitar. I wonder if those hippies who wrote "Time to Every Season" and "Come Together" ever imagined their songs would be used in church.

Stevens' sermon about the need for journeying into the wilderness was inspiring, thought-provoking and accessible.  She describes how each person has their own personal vision of wilderness. Mine looks like this:

Longing

Becca Stevens starts her Hither & Yon podcasts with a lovely meditation on longing for God, and it reminded me that how similar that feeling is to the yearning for my mom.

Then I think: is a relationship with god/dess always built on loss and grief? Of course, we are separated from god/dess, as s/he is "beyond the veil" like our beloved dead. But doesn't loss mean that we were once together - whether it was in the Garden of Eden or in the cosmic soup of souls?

Water mother

How beautiful is this?

"A mother is likened unto a mountain spring that nourishes the tree at its root, but one who mothers another's child is likened unto a water that rises into a cloud and goes a long distance to nourish a lone tree in the desert."

- The Talmud

Inspiration

I stumbled upon this artist, Arthur Douet, in Google Image Search, and was struck by the resonance of some of his pieces with my journey here.

In the Flow of Life

copyright Arthur Douet

My Cup Runneth Over

copyright Arthur Douet

Both of these pieces seem to reflect the feeling of goddess energy flowing through me, of filling the chalice that I have been seeking and recently experiencing.


He describes the second piece as: "When one listens inwardly, taking time to reflect on the Beingness of Life, the cascading flow that infuses our mind, body, and spirit replenishes the joy of life in the heart."

Mother may apple

The mayapples grow in the woods around our house, spreading as far as you can see along the forest floor.  I've seen its fruit, but not smelled its lemon-like aroma.  

I just discovered Magdalene House, Thistle Farms, and Becca Stevens.  She wrote this beautiful prayer for a baptism that took place alongside a river.

Mother May Apple

Rain fell on spring-soaked soil so much it pooled and flowed unbounded.

Love, blessing and abundance poured out on all God's green earth.

Thick new growth sprouted from every pore from this water feast.

In this vast wilderness, the Mayapple comes prepared for the rainy season.

Her single leaf, an umbrella, lets water flow and protects her single blossom.

That flower, like all creation, is made in secret,

intricately women in the depths of the earth.

It is not fragile or sweet, but miraculous and healing.

Before we ever dreamed of this flower or this rain, her eyes beheld it.

When it finally opens for the world, it is a wondrous delight.

Mayapples flourish in wet Springs as they gather gather in community on hillsides.

Come, celebrate our Mother May apple and the Mother who bears all fruit. 

Sing praise to her and to her waters that bring new life to everything.

Count her blessings that number more than all the widflowers in all the woods.

Then pray her waters bring us new life worthy of her children.

Yearning

Since my mother died in 2004, I have been very interested in grief and mourning customs.  So I jumped at the chance to read the article on "Good Grief" in a recent New Yorker.  Most of it was old territory for me, and I'd recently pretty much thrown the "stages of grief" out the window after reading this blog post by a birthmother.  But one paragraph was like a door opening:

"In the nineteen-seventies, Colin Murray Parkes, a British psychiatrist and a pioneer in bereavement research, argued that the dominant element of grief was a restless 'searching.' The heightened physical arousal, anger, and sadness of grief resemble the anxiety that children suffer when they’re separated from their mothers. Parkes, drawing on work by John Bowlby, an early theorist of how human beings form attachments, noted that in both cases—acute grief and children’s separation anxiety—we feel alarm because we no longer have a support system we relied on. Parkes speculated that we continue to 'search' illogically (and in great distress) for a loved one after a death. After failing again and again to find the lost person, we slowly create a new 'assumptive world,' in the therapist’s jargon, the old one having been invalidated by death. Searching, or yearning, crops up in nearly all the contemporary investigations of grief. A 2007 study by Paul Maciejewski found that the feeling that predominated in the bereaved subjects was not depression or disbelief or anger but yearning. Nor does belief in heavenly reunion protect you from grief. As Bonanno says, 'We want to know what has become of our loved ones.'"

Eureka, as we say in California. I have found it. Yearning is pretty much my constant life state, and it drives my near-compulsive web-searching.  (Isn't it interesting how search is the key to the web? Yearning seems to be so common - is grief a near-universal state?)


I also think this idea has such relevance for people suffering from adoption loss.  Adoptees and birthparents speak of this yearning for each other and invest great energy in seeking each other out. They even cite basic attachment research and describe the "primal wound" of being separated from your mother. And the final quote in the paragraph could be a perfect echo of what they say about their need to find each other, to be reunited.  


Our adoption is fully open, which means that we share all identifying information and communicate regularly in letters, emails, photos, and videos.  We haven't visited yet, but we want to.  It's only been 18 months, so it's very hard to see any benefits for Baby E from this openness, but I work very hard to maintain the relationship.  I don't want E to feel like he has to search out for answers, but I see now how unrealistic that is.


Even with all the information we can provide, there are no easy answers to the question "Why?"

Five simple steps

From the New York Times, a recipe for happiness:

(1) Be in possession of the basics — food, shelter, good health, safety.
(2) Get enough sleep.
(3) Have relationships that matter to you.
(4) Take compassionate care of others and of yourself.
(5) Have work or an interest that engages you.