
People that practice meditation regularly are probably familiar with it. It’s when you are doing something ordinary and all of the sudden it’s like a cloudy piece of film is lifted. Everyday objects look richer and crystal clear. The third dimension looks deeper. Colors are amazing and more vibrant…and you can feel the sweetness in each person you see. Maybe some neuroscientist can explain it, but all I know is that it is super cool. When it happens, it is really difficult not to get attached to it and grab on. Some people spend the rest of their lives trying to recreate it, but it can’t be forced. I’ve had several of those experiences, and I remember each one vividly. Today, walking through the woods on the same path I’ve been on many times, it happened again.
I get reminders of it in the way some people speak, write or live… but where I personally feel it most is in music. There are some people that simply carry that inside and when they live their lives we can feel it. They may not have any idea, but it can be life changing to people around them. It seems those people are often the ones that may struggle a little with the ordinary ways of our society, and we as a culture often try to get them back in line through irritation and disapproval. What they bring to us is of immeasurable value though. Anyone practicing mindfulness knows that it is very difficult to stop following our thoughts and stay awake to what is actually happening. This is a practice of a lifetime. It’s what opens us up to the grace that lifts the film.
I was fortunate to hear some amazing musicians the other night, and one of them, an artist named Andy Masters, sang a reminder to just this. He may have written a song of heartbreak…but when I heard it, I could feel where it came from…it came from behind the film. It was the most beautiful reminder of how difficult it is to stay awake, and how precious that gift of grace is. May we always honor those that carry pieces of the place behind the film…for they carry life itself in the most pure and powerful sense. I invite you to listen to his song on the link below.
http://antibeyond.com/track/awake
(Source: donnaroman)
Those end of the year goal setting sessions make the whole year worthwhile. Not my student, but fun nonetheless:)

Imagine you find a box at your door…it is really heavy for it’s size…super solidly packed in. It isn’t easy to open, but you keep working at it little by little….get a couple cuts on your hands, break a fingernail or two…go to get a pliers…no, a scissors…then finally an exacta blade does the trick… and the tape gives way aaaannnnd PoP!… the tightly packed insides rush out! A beautiful, vibrant, incredibly intense array of pure light…of every single shade of color and intensity…the yellow is as beautiful as the purple…and you admire it’s magnificence, and love the feel of it, and live with it…appreciating it every second. It is part of you.
Then all of the sudden you have to return it. You have to stuff it back in the box, which is much, much more difficult than getting it out….hold the cover down as best you can with one arm while it keeps popping out on all sides…and then duct tape it shut with the other hand.
And there the box sits, all roundish and not too box-like anymore.
Sometimes it’s hard to practice non-attachment.
(Source: donnaroman)
Solitude is a problem for writers generally, who spend so much time alone rehearsing a form of ideal communication. And men —as a practical matter — are often worse at being alone than women. But for male writers, however often an appearance of self-sufficiency can be stripped away to reveal a hidden structure of support, there is a writerly tradition of solitude that has existed at least since Romanticism: Rousseau’s “my habits are those of solitude and not of men,” or Shelley’s “Alastor; or, the Spirit of Solitude.” A man who chooses to be alone assumes the glamour of his forebears. A woman’s aloneness makes us suspicious: Even today it carries connotations of reluctance and abandonment, on the one hand, and selfishness and disobedience, on the other.
(Source: donnaroman)

I ended the work day with an icky feeling… it was a cross between second-guessing and a touch of plain old yuck. There really wasn’t a specific occurrence that caused it exactly, so I thought about it on the way home. I realized that I had been going through the day focused on the reflection of the day, not the day itself. That may seem unclear, so I’ll explain…it’s when I find myself narrating the day with my thoughts…judging what people say, how events happen, how people act…thinking about those things and evaluating them, comparing them, judging them…in other words, thinking about things as they occur…narrating the day in my head. I know this is typical for some people, but when I find myself doing that, the day feels surreal, less vibrant, more cynical, less friendly. It’s not easy to tell I’m doing that when I’m focused on the reflection…but I can often tell by how I feel.
And when I notice, I step back…step out…close my eyes and find the true, real experience behind my thoughts and put my focus there. The reflection can be distractingly interesting, and it can feel more controllable…but it can never compare to the vibrant, clear image that is pure life itself.

(Source: donnaroman)

Monet had the ability to meld nature with humankind in the most beautiful way. In his paintings, the trees and water enhance the bridges and buildings, and the structures themselves magnify the beauty of the trees and water.
Mothering is something like that, right? Mothers help a child find the radiance and beauty they have inside in a way that enhances the world around them…so their very nature makes the world a more beautiful place… and the world in turn enhances the child’s beauty. This job is not reserved just for women with their own children.
That kind of mothering doesn’t come from perfect mommy-ness… 100% nutritious food, total attention, systems and schedules… it also comes from imperfection, mistakes, openness, willingness, honesty and perseverance. And even with our most honest efforts…our kids struggle because that is the grace that comes with the gift of a human life…it’s the path to developing depth and understanding.
So here’s to you…let us collectively raise our glasses to messy creativity and openness…to attempting to be the best Monet Moms we can!
And especially to my own mother, the most beautiful painter of them all. I love you mom!
(Source: donnaroman)

You know those movies where the main character has to stay awake for some life threatening reason…all he wants to do is fall asleep but he has to stay awake because his very life depends on it? Sometimes there’s a supporting actor there to help keep him awake and it seems impossible….
I had that kid in my class one year. All he wanted to do was to fall asleep…to sink below the radar and close his eyes…be left alone…to fall asleep. I knew right away this wasn’t the slow learner, loner kid he wanted everyone to think he was. I would constantly be shaking him awake. Sometimes in the form of a stern shout…’It isn’t acceptable NOT to turn in homework!’ Sometimes it was a whisper awake…’See? When you try, you get an A on your algebra test, I’m proud of you.’ Sometimes it was nudge when I pretended he had his hand up and I call on him, and then wait him out until he answers because I know he can. The thing is, I know that if he stays awake…just stays awake…at some point he won’t be so sleepy anymore. If he just engages in his life, if he looks up and looks around, puts in a little of himself, he will start getting feeling back… in terms of good grades, in terms of attention, of pride, of self-respect…I know that. But he doesn’t, and all he wants to do is go to sleep.
He normally doesn’t talk to me except to respond in one or two words…but there are those days when we are at recess, and he happens to sit by me on the swings…and somehow he finds himself swinging at the same rate I am, so we are side by side, and he talks to me. He’s overweight and not as tall as I am, so I slow down to match his intent…and he talks about the weekend at his dad’s, or the time he burned his leg on a motorcycle exhaust, or playing video games until 3am and getting up and playing the whole next day, and the liter of coke he drank for breakfast today, or the stepsister he doesn’t really know well…or how he doesn’t care if he does ‘bad in school’ because he’s not going to college anyway…and we just swing, side by side, and I let him talk and I try to suck it all in, to take away the things that fall like a heavy sleepy fog around him.…just enough of it so he can stay awake.
And when it’s May, as it is now…my mind turns to his summer and then his 6th grade shift to the middle school…and I wonder who will take over the supporting actor role of keeping him awake. He’s worth keeping awake. He has a place in this world. He belongs here among us, but he has to stay awake until he realizes that he is no longer sleepy.
(Source: donnaroman)
you should listen to this because:
1. it’s new
2. it’s great
3 they are the best boys in the world

I came across flowers that appeared to close up for protection against the night. They looked afraid standing next to the other varieties. Fear is an interesting thing. There are as many different shades of fear and varieties of things that frighten people as there are human beings. I suppose the foremost purpose of fear is protection, but as humans we have overreacted to fear so much that we often have a hypersensitivity to it. Fear has become the monster in the living-room that we continue to feed to keep quiet. In it’s essence, fear is a mechanism to stop, prevent, keep out, hold back… in case of danger. The problem is that danger itself is not a universal thing. The very idea of what is considered dangerous is as individual as we are. Fear can be the single most defining quality in a person’s life…it can define the very life we will lead.
Carelessness is not the opposite of fear, bravery is. Reckless and carelessness are byproducts of a lack of common sense, not a lack of fear.
When a person is surrounded by other people who are fearful and anxious, either in a work culture or home culture, it seems normal to also be fearful. But if you look up from that, you may see that those people that have lived to the very edges of what they are capable of…they are not the ones that are constrained by fear. They are the ones that can feel the fear and act anyway.
I’ve been trying to do that lately with my deepest fears. It’s all in feeling the fear in it’s fullest, but finding the bravery to go forward. As I do that, the very walls of fear expand. By giving into the fear, the walls only become tighter around me. Whatever we feed gets stronger, have it be fear or bravery….that’s a choice we have each and every minute.
(Source: http)

You know the times when you when you feel like you can see the world and how it works, but then you see another way…a different way it could work even better? Sure, maybe the way people are doing things now is fine… but hey! If we tried it this way…wouldn’t that be better? Often a different way would add richness, more equality, higher quality, make more sense…or maybe it just hold more life.
We can look down the road of that new way and sometimes even see that people have been there before, people have started to try it and scoped it out already, and maybe they left us somewhere to rest.

We may even find a monument to a failed attempt. We often leave those monuments for ourselves in our own minds or in the stories we tell and hear…just to remind us of failure so we don’t take a risk again…or to tell other people that it’s best to stay on the road we’re all walking on.
We often create our own cemeteries of cautions to hold us back.

Fear is the biggest deterrent of going past just looking at and talking about trying it a new way. It keeps our eyes blurry and stuck to the road we know. It’s the filter that traps the visions of the world through the world…it keeps us safe on the paved road with our seat belts securely fastened.
We can use fear as a yellow flag to keep us grounded without using it as a noose around our necks to stop us.
I came across a quote today by Edith Wharton, “There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” I don’t think it matters if we are the one who can see the world through the world, or if we are the one holding the mirror that reflects it. Holding the mirror without clouding it with our own fear is a gift we can give.
We can look through history and find those people that were the candle: Leonard da Vicni, Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Pablo Picasso…we can rattle off many. Can you think of those people in your life now? I know many people who can see a different world: Larry Bartoszek of Bartoszek Engineering , Vicki Davis and Julie Lindsay of Flat Classroom Project, Joan Steffend Brandmeier of Peace Begins with me… are just a few people who I know that can see a world through the world. There are thousands among us… leaders, scientists, teachers, artists…all sorts of people. Many have committed themselves to their love…the love of what could be for all of us. We don’t all have to be that person with the ability to see that, but we can all be the mirror that supports that. One cannot exist without the other.
What could our world be if enough of us could set our fears aside…and we could find leaders that could hold the vision of the what our world could be… and then enough of us could be clear mirrors to support them? It is possible… those people are out there. On any given day, we are the candle, and then on another day, we are the mirror.

Today was a day of notes…and mystery. I went on a walk with my son into a nearby woods…and as always happens, he sees things in a different way than I do. As I am totally overtaken by the sensation of being among the trees…he is looking at much more subtle detail. He calls me over to see a container he found hidden in hole in an old tree. It had a water tight vile containing a list of people who have discovered it. It appeared to be part of a geo-game of some sort. So cool..we put it back and continued on.
A very short time later, he found a tree with a sunflower lovingly attached to it with a note. It was obviously done by someone with great care and love. The note said,
“Remembering you today
but especially always
love you love you love you
Your friend.”
To have a friend like that….it’s like Rumi and Shams…to have a friendship like that is indeed something made on another plane.



(Source: donnaroman)