Dear Somebody: Tiny miracles everywhere

Five things from this week that I'd like to remember

Girl and sitar, in the latest issue of Uppercase Magazine

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A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY

The past week has been full of it’s one of those days days—the kind where the baby cries until she’s sunset purple, my lower back begins to crumble, the toddler vomits at two in the morning, and all of my friends feel worlds away. I wake up at eleven o’clock, two o’clock, and five o’clock, finally getting up at six. When I look in the mirror, I feel detached or disappointed or maybe nothing at all.

It’s been storming for two days. Like the people in my home, the entire outdoors has been cranky or crying. Rain stamps out any lingering spark from the weekend’s fireworks and when we finally step outside, after wrestling with diapers and socks and rain boots and zippers, a fine mist cleans my face. It’s cold enough to need a sweater, which delights me more than most things can, and I’m irritable enough that my own delight surprises me.

We walk. The toddler sings to herself and the baby sleeps. In this moment, no one is crying or calling my name. I know this will change as soon as I allow myself to feel relieved, but I try to be in the moment anyway. I only sort-of succeed. I wish I had some time for myself, I think.

T notices, because he reminds me that gratitude cultivates joy. He’s already listened to me complain a fair amount, so I don’t push the lesson away. Instead, I make a list.

There is much I am grateful for: children who are beautifully healthy and strange; a marriage that has learned to rise rather than crumble; a body that shows up though the neck always grumbles, the bones feel emptied, and the entire thing is tired of being tired.

There is much I am grateful for: the turned leaves, freshly watered from days of rain; a pleasing lawn, freshly mown; the sprinkled song of flowers. Four birds on a wire, whistling.

Clouds that cover the ruddy clay sun in July, that’s what I’m grateful for. A thunderstorm that claps the house, the stony sound of summer hail. A late morning walk. A baby taking her third bath—only the third one she’s ever taken in her entire life—and seriously feeling the warm water run down her face. A baby who listens to the running faucet and hears a waterfall or sea lions playing or her sister splashing. The awe in her eyes. The small wonder of children. The wonder of small children. A young family stumbling to find their way. A young family stumbling, finding their way. The coolest, most welcome breeze. Tiny miracles everywhere.

TUESDAY

I’m currently reading This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel, on recommendation by a friend, and enjoying it very, very much. I’m not finished yet, but I keep thinking about the following conversation, which is similar to the one T and I have quite often, and the one I have with myself on a daily basis:

“Such a tough life. This is not the easy way."

"No," Penn agreed, "but I'm not sure easy is what I want for the kids anyway."

She looked up at him. "Why the hell not?"

"I mean, if we could have everything, sure. If we can have it all, yeah. I wish them easy, successful, fun-filled lives, crowned with good friends, attentive lovers, heaps of money, intellectual stimulation, and good views out the window. I wish them eternal beauty, international travel, and smart things to watch on tv. But if I can't have everything, if I only get a few, I'm not sure easy makes my wish list."

"Really?"

"Easy is nice. But its not as good as getting to be who you are or stand up for what you believe in," said Penn. "Easy is nice. But I wonder how often it leads to fulfilling work or partnership or being."

"Easy probably rules out having children," Rosie admitted.

"Having children, helping people, making art, inventing anything, leading the way, tackling the world's problems, overcoming your own. I don't know. Not much of what I value in our lives is easy. But there's not much of it I'd trade for easy either, I don't think.”

P.S. Do you have any book recommendations? Please post them in the comments for us all to enjoy.

WEDNESDAY

The latest edition of my column Being was published in Issue #58 of Uppercase Magazine. I wrote about creative breakthroughs and how to cultivate them.

“A mistake I continually made throughout my career was expecting myself to produce work without rest or creative input. It’s impossible to evolve your work, or your voice, without allowing yourself to be inspired or moved by the environment that surrounds you. Although the foundation of my work is rooted in emotional well-being and healing, I found myself prioritizing work over friendship, production over creative intake, and relying on old skills over experimentation. As a result, my work remained stale, almost forgettable. Each painting was missing a spark, the essence that would imbue it with meaning. To light the spark, I had to first give myself room to breathe.”

—Creative Breakthroughs from Issue #58 of Uppercase Magazine, available now.

THURSDAY

We should be ambitious about our friendships.

FRIDAY

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

—Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo

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See you next week!

xx,

M

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