Creatives

We pay thousands and thousands of dollars to develop and nurture our creative abilities. Hours and hours of time and effort writing, crafting, building and critiquing our 'created.'

I think that some if not much of this energy is spent simply trying to recover something that was lost. Some significant of our creative capacity that died.

Why do I think this? I have children. Children who are created as creatives; who come into this place ready to pour out without killing the creation.

Who says there is only one way to swing on a swing? Visit a park and watch how many different ways a child finds to swing on a swing.

Free

Just the other day, I was driving home with both older kids buckled in the back. I had just picked them up from school and we were heading home for a quick lunch, then a time of rest [quiet time.]

As we are cruising along the lake, blue skies and very little traffic, my daughter asks me to open the windows. I do.

I looked in the rear view mirror and watched as the two half-squint into the wind, smiling.

Q&A

It was about one o'clock in the morning. Stars were out as we drove along the highway in between little towns. Not much traffic was on the road that night; just us and an occational truck.

Both my kids were alseep, stapped into their car seats; hoepfully not to awake until morning when we pulled into YaYa and Grandad's driveway.

Then it started. I should have expected it. My daughter thoroughly enjoys asking questions and discussing philosophy, human behavior and all things spiritual and magical.

The first question falls under the latter interest.

"When fairies fly, do they get tired? Because they don't use their hands to fly, but rather their wings grow out of their backs?"

Now, recongnize the car has been completely quiet for several hours; I didn't even realize my daughter was awake. So, not only was I startled by the sound of her voice, but somewhat confused by the words that came out.

"Excuse me. What?" I said in a somewhat loud voice.

"Fairies have wings right? And those wings are on their back, instead of their arms like birds. So, daddy, do they get tired?"

"Hmmm. Well, sure. Some part of their body has to make the wings move. And it's that part that gets tired."

"Oh."

"Thanks daddy. Good night."

Marbles

What brings back memories from your childhood? What childhood moment is plucked from obscurity when your child is creating a moment of their own?



I remember very vividly the weekly excursions to the city museum my mom used to take both my little brother and I. My six-years-old eyes spent hours staring at the rocks and minerals carefully displayed in the Hall of Natural History. Giant amethyst, perfectly crystallized calcite and shiny cubes of pyrite captured my imagination and ignited a desire for rock hunting that continued for many years.



It was on a recent visit to a marble factory that brought this memory out of storage.



Thank you to my daughter for drawing out these memories and thank you to my wonderful mom for providing a place to create them.

Last Day of Swim Class

There are without question many challenges to being a parent. In fact, the challenges can eclipse the blessings. Some could argue that we should reflect on challenges themselves as blessings. Just try and convice a dad in the midst of a critical conference call, attempting to bottle feed an infant, while the two older children who should be in 'quiet time' are being anything but quiet. Blessing, perhaps ask me next week. Challenge, without question; no discussion required.


So...I hope that I can be completely present and wash in the moments that are clearly blessings. Moments of joy, peace and power. My fear is that I will miss them, treat them as mundane and in doing so rob them of the opportunity to nurish my life and my relationships with those I love.


The last day of swim class. What a joy. The oldest is swimming solo and the little one is happy in the pool without daddy by his side.

Sun @ the Beach

I take for granted how wonderful my children are. It's far too easy to 'rest' in the challenges, the arguments and the 'wrestling' matches.

If I were to actually tally the time spent in battle and the time spent at peace, I think I would be surprised at the difference. And that difference would be weighted significantly in favor of peace.

Although, it can seem that the calculation would lean heavily towards time spent in "battle"...working with the kids to share, to relax, to speak rather than scream, to do what you ask, to hurry, to slow down, to listen, to treat one another with honor and respect and on and on. It can be and is so exhausting. I think that it's the amount of energy required to parent in these circumstances that skews my perspective into believing that my life is spent in the trenches, rather than on the beach under an umbrella.


Being a parent is labor intensive. Being a good parent requires divine intervention. I do not believe one can simply "happen" to parent well. It takes intentionality.

Now, my fault in this entire calculation of peace versus battle is that during those times of peace, I'm often not at peace. Not resting in the moment; experiencing the children, experiencing life at peace, but rather looking towards the next moment. The next meeting, the next activity, the next email, the next work-related crisis.

I need to spend time playing in the sand and jumping on the beach. Thank you little ones for reminding me how to be at peace.

Preparing for the Hunt

The kids have been into pets...and not the typical dog and cat type, but the snails, grubs, ants and pill bug types. Hey, honestly, it's low maintenance and if one dies, it's cheap to replace and you can't tell the difference.

A parent's perfect pet.

So, this morning, the kids and I headed out to find snails. We researched their habitats [as requested by the 6 year old] and what they eat, drink and wear [per the 3 year old].

Wish us luck!