Things To Remember | The Organic Sister

Visionary Mom and Balance

July 16, 2010 By TheOrganicSister

Do you have key words that symbolize life lessons; maybe ones that permeate every struggle or underline every experience, whispering to you the same message that you constantly forget?

My mom long ago named one of my biggest life lessons: Balance.

It’s all about balance for me. It’s been the word that haunts me when I’m staying up too late working on something when I think I should be sleeping or feeling pulled toward work when I’m trying to spend time with my guys. It’s what rings in my ears when I’m gung-ho in any direction, idea or project. It’s what I need to be reminded of when I neglect my body or abuse it.

That’s why when I saw Lisa’s e-coaching over at VisonaryMom* I honed in on her Balance course. I’m working on several business projects right now and between work, travel and physical limitations, balance can be seriously lacking.

Lisa personalizes these “e-courses” to each person and I’ll admit I went into it hopeful, but pretty dubious. I’ve been juggling so much for so long I wasn’t sure I hadn’t already exhausted every possible time management trick in the book. How perfect that the first thing Lisa told me was that balance does not equal proportionally doled out chunks of time to the various items on my To Do list.

There have only been a handful of times in my life when a person’s words have instantaneously transformed my thinking, when their message just “clicked”. Three of them happened with Lisa.

Looking back over the four week coaching with her, I can’t recall every assignment or every word. But in each and every “session” together she would hit me with something so incredibly insightful, seeing the things I needed to see or I didn’t even know I knew. It was as if I was having a long conversation with a dear friend, one who could tenderly and honestly see to the heart of the matter, could read between my words and could tell me exactly what I needed to hear (even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear).

She’s taught me:

That balance is something that can be accessed only through acceptance
To understand what rhythm really looks like
To acknowledge perceptions as just that
To view my actions through a very different lens
To value and honor the seasons life brings

The transformation in my life is both minimal and monumental. Minimal because very few “details” have changed. My days look much the same. But monumental because the way I approach, appreciate and feel about my days are radically different.

For once in my life I feel balanced. (Well, maybe not physically yet. *ahem*) I feel connected, reaffirmed and at peace with our days and our rhythms, my work and my play, my passions and my roles, my family and mySelf.

I’m so incredibly impressed with Lisa, her ability to speak to one’s heart and her amazing service. I’m equally impressed that it’s not a small fortune to access her gifts – and I mean that, she truly has a gift. She is an amazing woman who offered up so much of herself and her time during this e-course. She made herself available to me fully, unconditionally and endlessly.

That’s why I feel privileged to support her as she builds this career. She changed my life and I want to help her reach others. If you haven’t checked out her site, her e-courses or her free e-course going on now, I highly recommend doing so.

Stay tuned in the next couple of days for a giveaway and special offer from Lisa!

*This is NOT an affiliate link. I’ll receive nothing by your choosing to work with Lisa.

Filed Under: Organic Wisdom, Things To Remember Tagged With: balance, choosing happiness, e-course, lessons, spirituality, visionary mom

An Inner Memorial

January 27, 2010 By TheOrganicSister 28 Comments

our prayers, originally uploaded by fubuki.

Life…and death…have sent me a reminder.

I sat at my kitchen counter as I waited for my macaroni casserole to finish in the oven, determined to finish The Omnivore’s Dilemma which was due back today. Justin came in, wrapping his arms around me in silence. I finished my paragraph, and asked if something was wrong as I looked up.

Something was wrong. My husband had tears streaming down his face. He told me he just got off the phone. A friend of his had shot and killed himself yesterday, leaving behind a wife he had recently separated from and his two small children.

I held my husband while he tried to wrap his mind around the pain this man must have been so deeply absorbed in. And as I tried to send my love to both my grieving husband and this man’s family, I silently admonished myself: My husband had come to me in quiet tears and I had to finish my paragraph before even looking up.

You think you know a lesson. It’s been impressed upon you countless times. And yet, in the every day minutes of life it is so easily lost.

It takes only a moment for our worlds to change. It takes a mere second for a trigger to be pulled and every wrong-spoken word up to that point to seem inconsequential, meaningless or unnecessary. It takes one fateful phone call to remind us that the true meaning of life lies within the actions of a single breath.

I don’t pretend to know what the experience was imparting on the father and husband in my arms, not to mention the grieve of the closest loved ones left behind. But the only thing Justin could utter was the humor and fun this man had brought to his life. He had made work worth going to on the days when no one wanted to get out of bed. His laughter left a legacy.

Earlier this morning, I had read a comment addressed to me about Zeb’s education or potential lack there of. And the words came swimming back to me as a reminder as I pressed my forehead to my husband’s and wiped away his tears. How can we wrap ourselves up in the things that will not matter in the end? Surely we can find a way to grow and learn and experience in this life without forgetting why it is we want to live in the first place? We chase those dreams for the hope of finding what we already have within our immediate reach – joy and happiness and peace.

We, our family, lives for love. We want to live in a way to never again hear about a person’s death and become overcome with regret over the last words uttered or the memories never made. (Please Gd, let it not be forgotten again.)

Let me repeat myself, if for no one else but myself: At the end of our lives, when the phone calls are being made from one person to the next, nothing else will matter but the memories that come swarming back into the hearts of the people we called friends, were lucky enough to call family.

Life…and death…have sent me a reminder. Gentler this time, but just as powerful. And I’m feeling impressed upon to pass it along to you.

In memory of Justin’s friend, Dave and his wife and most especially his babies: Put away your deadline or your goal. Set aside your pride or your impatience. Put down your book…and walk up to someone in your life right now with nothing more than unconditional love. Hold them. Tell them what they mean to you.

Give them something pure to remember you by.

Nothing else matters.

Filed Under: People I Love, Things To Remember Tagged With: death, friends, life, love, memories, sadness

Reflections of a Time in Flux

December 31, 2009 By TheOrganicSister 12 Comments

Every New Year’s I can look back and sum up the entire year in one word or phrase.

2007 was about Letting Go and Trusting. It was the year I sold my business, the year we embraced unschooling, the year my perspective as a parent changed for the better. It was also the year I lost my dad. And really started to find myself. I think it will always feel like the year my life – my authentic life – started.

2008 was all about Judgment. It was a tough year but I can honestly look back on it with appreciation. It was the year my dreads went in and I learned so much about the judgment of others. There were others choices I made that year – choices I thought I’d never make – that taught me no person nor their decisions can ever be known or understood fully and therefore judgment (in the meanest form of the word) has little place in my heart. It was a hard year. But I feel I’m a better person for experiencing all of 2008.

One of my favorite photos/places of the year.

Looking back at 2009, all I can see is Change. Obviously the last four months have been an unprecedented upheaval. But it started long before that with our plans and Justin’s prediction. It makes for a strange year in retrospect – as if we lived the entire thing in limbo, looking forward while being stuck in (what felt like) our past: the place we’ve always been and don’t want to be anymore.

We changed our entire home, changed dust to real soil, changed our minds a dozen times.

And finally we made the choices that will ultimately change our lives and bring about so much unknown change, it’s overwhelming.

Another word that could describe this year for me is Acceptance. Accepting that which I cannot change and have no control over. Specifically in one area. Although it’s still a work in progress, I’m accepting that pregnancy is not going to happen for us. Seven years and enough losses to still hurt, and I’m ready to let go. Hindsight’s perfect vision is the most difficult here, seeing choices I would have made differently “if I’d only known then...” But I can only spend so much time in painful retrospect while life goes on without me. It’s time to accept what is and move on.

I don’t know what next year will bring, although definitely more change and likely some adventures are in store. There are things I’ll be looking and hoping for – community, connection, direction. But I’m not going to attempt to nail down next year’s purpose. The possibilities are too vast. Instead, I’m trying to remain open to what the road will bring and allow it unfold how it will.

To all of you I’ve “met” through this blog and hope to soon meet in person, I wish you all a phenomenal and memorable 2010.

And may our lives continue to intersect in extraordinary and meaningful ways.

Filed Under: Celebrations, Things To Remember Tagged With: acceptance, changes, judgment, new years, reflection, trust

Sweet Child of Mine

August 14, 2009 By TheOrganicSister 16 Comments

My baby boy is now a 10 year old. And just like was promised to me the first time I held him in my arms, it went by too fast. The past several days have sent me into a tailspin of emotions and memories as I reminisce, wonder…and yes, cry. Often.

I compare the size of his feet to the tiny baby feet in my mind. I ruffle his long, tangled hair and remember his first haircut. I think of his sweaty boy hands and remember when they wanted to hold mine, no matter where we were.

I think about the time we lost; the years we parented strictly and the trust I’m still gaining back, nearly three years later. I played the ”mean mommy” I was encouraged to be. I felt I had to control him, punish him, distance myself from him when he cried for me. I stopped co-sleeping and breastfeeding much too early. I smacked his tiny hand if I felt he did something wrong. Is it any wonder he began to pull it away from mine?

But the past years of peaceful parenting are such a salve to my regretful heart. The joy, the mutual respect and cooperation, the forgiveness, the relationship. I hold so dear the memories we’ve made since, as we’ve laughed together, learned to listen to each other and loved with an acceptance that runs deeper than I thought possible.

Yesterday morning as Zeb slept past his birth time and I quietly watched him breathing, my thoughts went to my own father and the many years we lost. Was he reminded to enjoy it before it was gone? Did he ever slow down long enough to watch me sleeping? Did he reminisce of the days when my love for him wasn’t buried beneath years of pain and layers of resentment? He spent so much time telling me who to be and how to be it, throwing advice my way instead of compassion, hurting me instead of holding me. I can’t even recall the last time I had hugged, or even touched him. And then he was gone and the child inside still hurts for her dad.

I look at Zeb’s fluttering eyes and feel the pain my father must have felt. It’s flying by and nothing I can do will stop it. Every time I see my son wince at my tone or my impatience, I see the moment I’ve lost to connect with him, hold him, love him. Will we ever go so long without hugging or touching? I enter a room to see he’s grown another inch or made another mental leap and my heart panics if I know I’m repeating the past and not making the most of the few moments I have left. But I’m fortunate enough to know how to slow things down, to relish in the laughter, to love unconditionally and build our relationship on it.

These last ten years have been full of pain and laughter, moments of frustration and days of joy, a sense of failure and overwhelming feelings that this life is perfect. And just like I was promised, I miss every single moment that has passed. I miss rocking him to sleep and the times he wouldn’t stop crying. I miss the one million questions and the clinging toddler I tried to peel away from me long enough to use the restroom. I miss the sweet baby smell and the toddler smell of “cookies and dirt”. I so badly miss the years we lost, where I was too busy to look at what he had drawn me or built “all by himself”.

If there is anything that I most wish to inspire in others, anything that anyone takes away from my blogging, please let it be this:

Nothing – not social expectations, not educational advancement, not good behavior – NOTHING matters so much as the love and compassion we give our children; as the relationship we build with every word, look, tone or reaction; as the trust they have in us; as the memories we leave our sweet babies long after we’re gone.

We only have this moment to show them our unconditional love and it’s already fleeting.

Filed Under: Celebrations, Organic Parenting, Things To Remember Tagged With: Zeb

Thank you for my rose…

April 30, 2009 By TheOrganicSister 1 Comment

Even though you’re sitting right beside me and I can easily just say this to your face, I won’t. Because I know when I speak I can never do justice to my real emotions like I can when I write. So this is for you. I hope you can read as fast as I can type. (Well then, I’ll try to type faster.)

I’ve never been very good at expressing myself to you. Probably because I feel like you already know anything I possibly feel, just as you always seem to know me better than I know myself. (Ignore my typos will ya? I’ll fix them later.) But I know that’s not fair to you. That you deserve to hear what it is I feel, as often as you show me what it is you feel for me.

You’ve shown me, in the past nearly…9 years?…that I can not only trust you but that I can trust me. That I have something to give to the world. I often forget that not everyone sees me through your eyes, but I always walk with the confidence you’ve given me. You make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even first thing in the morning with puffy eyes and stinky breath and a slightly crabby mood.

I admire you. I look at you and see a dedication and patience I wish I owned. You are understanding and tender and you take my breath away. You are steady and you never fail to be exactly what I need. You are the first person I want to talk to and the only person I want near me when I’m hurting. I love the way you love me.

And I love that although I pride myself in writing sappy notes of appreciation for anyone I know, that I’ve been sitting here and writing and rewriting and struggling with this. Because you, baby, and the way you make me feel are still beyond words for me.