Salty Soup

We started with me
forming him
in the little mini-sea
of my own womb.
Thirteen years
there’s much more
shaping him.
Side by side
but separate
in this salty soup

Our Greatest Compass Point

This post digs back into the Archives, circa 2011. Jeb was eight and I was a single mother trying to juggle work and parenthood while maintaining some sort of higher perspective.

Six years later and the image of the hand on the heart comes back to me this morning.

These days of late seem wrought with overwhelm. Change is afoot and with it comes uncertainty. The work to be done in the world feels daunting.

As we face the days ahead, as we sit in this very moment, right now, I hope we find the tools we need to keep ourselves oriented to our True North.

Our hearts are our greatest compass points.

Here’s a modified excerpt from that 2011 post about bringing it all back home.

“…Jeb’s in the back seat trying to see if one of his Star Wars Storm Troopers can fit in his remote control Jeep while Buzz Lightyear looks on.

Buzz Lightyear and a bald Mr. Potatohead
Buzz Lightyear and a bald Mr. Potatohead

Riding shotgun with me up front, is my laptop and paperwork, a ten page to-do list and a stick of gum. I feel the overwhelm close in on me like a shroud. And then I remember the words of the Ambassador.

If you follow the Archives you may recall the Ambassador shared his story of 15 seconds of grace. He also imparted some sage advice for moments when grace can’t even be felt for a millisecond. He suggested the simple gesture of a hand to the heart. A deep breath in, and just be there, like that, for a moment.

I’m driving down the highway with Jeb and Mr. Potatohead and I reach my hand to my heart and breathe. There is a comfort there of simply feeling a hand on my chest. An abbreviated version of a self-hug. I notice the air in my lungs. I begin to see the sparkling green of the wet trees along the highway a bit more vividly. After about a minute I realize my body has relaxed.

No circumstance has changed. I still have a client to meet. Jeb is still sniffley. But I’m a bit more calm. It’s then I realize that the metaphorical mountain on my head is not just sourced in situation. Surely life will provide plenty of external conditions to challenge me. But in the end, I’m the one who decides how it affects me. I choose to tighten. I choose to loose my grace in haste.

Hand on the heart makes space. I like this.

If you’ve read this far I invite you to try it for yourself right now. Put your hand on your heart.

How’s that?”