nine

I left the house a mess and so I came home to the house a mess because I'm the only adult who lives here even when that's not totally true. I came home and picked them up right away, as in, they jump right in the back of the cab. We cuddle then head out for sandwiches; I don't even bring in the mail; I can't be in this house or bother with house-things. Our home is fine with the weeks of apathy, accepting of my pouting. We have earned our intimacy. I've been practicing true love with my home/work. This work I share bridges the chasm between here and there — between intentionality and actuality — between societal programming and soul callings, with imagination, elbow grease, and the radical acceptance also called true love.

We order one New York (pastrami) and one Dubai (falafel) and cruise to the playground by their preschool, it being the closest park to the sandwich shop. We used to go there almost every day after school. Gruesome years and yet this park consistently elicits pleasant memories. The boys play together well here, plus there's plenty of shade.

The Dubai's falafel is a bit dry, so New York wins by a landslide. They cut the sandwiches into threes for us, and sell Dr. Peppers in glass bottles. Have you ever seen those, with their classy labels? We keep bottles like this to hold backyard tapers when they won't melt on their own. We stay longer than we thought we would, which means we show up at the orthodontist's gross and sweaty. Sorry, but you'll catch us on better behavior later. It must be wild to watch families change over the course of treatment. Brace yourself. We will report here for five years, minimum. What will happen versus what won't —

🎱

I've been up since 3:30 Eastern and I'm wiped by 8:00 Pacific. They're finally old enough to put themselves to bed, if everything's been teed up. I lock my door. She's new to me tonight. She grips the head of the wand and I'm with her, but unattached somehow. With her in gratitude, not grasping even as she grips. All these knowings come through the waves.

! Ask questions when Spirit is in the Mood !

Why do I live in Los Angeles? Two answers, followed by one statement. Undeniable. Okay I ask, Why am I a mother? Again, two answers and a statement. Can't make this stuff up. I unlock my door.

There is a feeling when you get to your truth. The feeling is you've hit the bottom, not depressed, but GOOD. IT means there's nowhere else to go for now. Take a mind-body picture to remember this.

Addiction to not knowing is too easy. 

At some point, clarity truly is a choice.

You're living with answers. You don't comprehend the entire design. You can be cool with knowing your next two steps, trusting the bigger big picture is indeed being revealed — a puzzle in pieces. 

Is a quantum leap a rise above your story, a glimpse of anchored corners, and the chaos of building?

Detective eyes to get started: Pretend you don't live at yours next time you walk in. Allow a soft semblance of neutrality to wash over as you scan for what is ready to share. There are plans lying in wait if you have the energy. Give more to receive more.

🌳

I'm pleased I cannot shake the knowings that come through. I'm again on a printed sheet looking up at light through trees. Lock > unlock > grip & twist > open the tiny baby door handle > enter.

We will tour four parks from our past in as many days. We will stop to restock all the balls that we've lost since our last restocking (steep driveway; kids r kids). Basketball, football, a kickball. Baseballs, hacky sacks and a hot pink frisbee with a big red kiss on it ("for you Mom"). I promise to actually make their beds tonight. They've been sleeping on clean sheets spread out, but not made *just*right*

💋