The Great Art of Life...

Transcendent Existence

Shhhh! She is travelling between worlds right now. You can see her holding the tension of not knowing ~ she is simply breathing into her unanswered questions. Sometimes she drinks her coffee with quaking hands, not knowing where her relationship or her bank account is going.

But this time, she is holding on to the tension of not knowing, and is not willing to hit the panic button. She is unlearning thousands of years of conditioning. She is not being split between the opposing forces of fight and flight.

She is neither naïve nor ignorant. She is a frontier woman, paving new roads & making new choices.

She is willing to making a new transcendent possibility emerge. You may see her now ~ standing at thresholds, or at crossroads ~ breathing into her body ~ intently listening for inner signals. She's learning new navigation skills as she arrives at a most magical moment of her life.

No Heroic Quips. Just Do Better than Me

I wasn’t awesome today.
Please do better than me.

Today is the babies “half birthday’ (six months) and we decided we’d celebrate by eating out for dinner at our favorite restaurant.
I was teasing my son (quadriplegic with cerebral palsy/autistic), playing, and he was being his cheeky self right back at me. Laughing and quipping, it got a little noisy.
That was until a young woman sitting at the next table said loudly, with intent to be overheard, to her friends,

“Maybe she should shut her stupid retard up!”

We all fell into a silence, smarting with shock.
I looked across at Jack. His head had dropped. All of his animation, his light, his laughter was extinguished. His gentle gaze was into his lap when he quietly said the worst thing he could of possibly said,

“I’m sorry, Mum.”

I cancelled our orders and we left.

I didn’t throw a heroic quip at the girl. I didn’t insult her. I didn’t even look at the table. In fact I accidentally ran Jack’s wheelchair into the doorframe as we were leaving because I couldn’t see through the tears pouring down my face.

No matter how much you think you know it, unless you live with a child with special needs you don’t know how hard it is. How complex and difficult it can be. How much a thoughtless,  ego-driven line like that girl’s will decay my son’s confidence. Jack and I live this journey, 24/7.

Its hard.

I’m not sharing this with you for sympathy.

I’m sharing this because I have an awesome community of friends on here.
You are, each and every one, awesome.
So please, do better than me:

when you’re out amongst life, be awesome.