Friday, December 31, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Be gentle
Life lately has seemed like anything but.
The days are short and dark. And a depression like I've never experienced has taken ahold of me with a firm grip.
Maybe it's the holiday music. The twinkling lights that remind me of what life used to be like - what life should be like.
It would be nice for a moment to step out of this skin and go back to before the nightmare. To the time when I knew bad things happened, but not to me.
I wish that a lot when I'm sad.
Going back would mean back to the person I used to be and I'm not sure that's what I want. I hated the "new" me after Sawyer died, but now I'm really beginning to embrace and love who I've become.
Sawyer taught me not to fret over the little things. Not to be afraid to love with all of my heart - even if it hurts more than a thousand knives in my chest. He taught all of us to be kind and to realize that you can never judge a book by its cover, because you never know the battle a person is facing at any given time. He has taught us so much about compassion and how to go about life in a gentle way.
I have to remind myself of this when I want to go back. And remember the things that Sawyer's incredibly short life that have shined through in all the darkness.
The days are short and dark. And a depression like I've never experienced has taken ahold of me with a firm grip.
Maybe it's the holiday music. The twinkling lights that remind me of what life used to be like - what life should be like.
It would be nice for a moment to step out of this skin and go back to before the nightmare. To the time when I knew bad things happened, but not to me.
I wish that a lot when I'm sad.
Going back would mean back to the person I used to be and I'm not sure that's what I want. I hated the "new" me after Sawyer died, but now I'm really beginning to embrace and love who I've become.
Sawyer taught me not to fret over the little things. Not to be afraid to love with all of my heart - even if it hurts more than a thousand knives in my chest. He taught all of us to be kind and to realize that you can never judge a book by its cover, because you never know the battle a person is facing at any given time. He has taught us so much about compassion and how to go about life in a gentle way.
I have to remind myself of this when I want to go back. And remember the things that Sawyer's incredibly short life that have shined through in all the darkness.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
How dreary would be the world if there was no Santa Claus!
TFB posted a blog today all about the topic of honesty with her children. Somehow she tied in the truth about childbirth and the existence Santa all into one, long-winded post.
Found here http://thefeministbreeder.com/on-being-honest-with-our-children/
She told her four-year-old son during lunch that Santa isn't real. Her number one reason why?
"We work our butts off to afford a few special presents for the kids, and I’m not about to let some imaginary man take credit for it."
Yeah. That's the spirit of the holiday season. Getting credit for doing something good. Which is the only reason why ANYONE should do something for someone else. Just to take credit for it themselves. Rolling up selfless and selfish all into a complete package.
I guess she should also tell them to abandon all hope of good things. To throw their imaginations out the window. That the true meaning of Christmas and goodness can't possibly be found in the jolly, round man with the big, white beard.
In this moment, I'm instantly be reminded of the editorial response to a letter from a little girl named Virginia, written over 100 years ago. Words that speak volumes. Words that speak from the heart.
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."
VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
*I'm sure the haters are ready to pounce - Go ahead. I'll be taking a nap while you're all whipped up into a frenzy over this one.
Found here http://thefeministbreeder.com/on-being-honest-with-our-children/
She told her four-year-old son during lunch that Santa isn't real. Her number one reason why?
"We work our butts off to afford a few special presents for the kids, and I’m not about to let some imaginary man take credit for it."
Yeah. That's the spirit of the holiday season. Getting credit for doing something good. Which is the only reason why ANYONE should do something for someone else. Just to take credit for it themselves. Rolling up selfless and selfish all into a complete package.
I guess she should also tell them to abandon all hope of good things. To throw their imaginations out the window. That the true meaning of Christmas and goodness can't possibly be found in the jolly, round man with the big, white beard.
In this moment, I'm instantly be reminded of the editorial response to a letter from a little girl named Virginia, written over 100 years ago. Words that speak volumes. Words that speak from the heart.
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."
VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
*I'm sure the haters are ready to pounce - Go ahead. I'll be taking a nap while you're all whipped up into a frenzy over this one.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
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