Rain, Moon, Talk

Last night, a sprinkling of autumn rain shook itself down from the clouds, and a not-quite-full moon the color of pearls rose in a velvet sky. My friend and I tucked ourselves just under the eves of her parents house, out of the wet and talked and cried and kissed cheeks and told stories and prayed.

This young lady is the closest thing to a goddaughter I have. Her family and mine have grown up with lives spilling into one another ever since I was small and my family moved to this dry high desert. She is fifth in a line of seven children, and she and I are both middle daughters. Sometimes, when I'm looking at her, I have to blink and shake my head because I feel as if I'm looking at myself several years ago. While she is vastly more gifted athletically then I could ever be, and her mind is sharp and determined when it comes to mathematics and science (areas which you could effectively use on me as torture), there are some things we share. She has a deeply empathetic heart, and a soul so gentle it bruises easy and heals the hearts around her with even greater ease. When I watch her doing life in the midst of a sprawling boisterous family, I can see threads of thought and deeds I myself identify with so intensely it almost aches.

She's growing up. She's asking the questions children begin to ask when they're ready to create they're own unique identity. Questions about faith, relationships, right and wrong, questions that can feel so all important when we are young. You feel, if you get the answers wrong, perhaps you yourself are wrong. At this age, life is big and bright and beautiful and frightening. All you really long for is to be heard, to be sat next to, and to be included. When we are young and hoping desperately to do this crazy life thing well, being included, being asked to sit at the table with the proverbial "big kids" can feel like getting it right, and, therefore, you yourself, at your core, are right too.

The transition this precious girl is going through was a time in my own life when I struggled deeply and, consequently, changed and grew so much through. I'm writing a letter to this girl, to my younger self, and to anyone who may need to read it.

Baby girl,

I said some of these things last night, but I wanted to write them down for you, so you can see them with your eyes, every time you get overwhelmed. I have a LOT to say, so make yourself a cup of magical tea if you need to. Cozy up and read on.

You are all right.

What I mean by that is this: YOU, with your big beautiful golden-flecked eyes and your perfect freckles, your strength of character and your sweet soul, your intelligent mind and your important questions, are ALL good!

Your questions scare you sometimes, because getting the answers wrong can feel like you've failed some cosmic test.

Our society puts SO much emphasis on scoring high, preforming well and winning. In school, in sports, in cooking, in work, in art, in relationships and family, we are told there is a black and white way to do things. A right and a wrong.

Honey, life just is NOT that way.

Life is bright and colorful and magical and scary and sometimes hopeless. Life is learning what you believe and holding onto those beliefs even if not everyone agrees with you. Life is finding the people who love you and who you love and learning how to build a healthy happy life with them.

Life is short we are told. The author Annie Dillard says "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives". Whenever I read that I'm just floored! I just have to sit down and think about that. If what Annie says is true, then that means I'm spending my life right now, in this very second, writing to you. That could seem scary, but it also gives us so much power! It means YOU have choices.

I personally want to fill my days with good people, and good food, and good words. Laughter, AND tears, because both are so desperately important to me. The incredible thing is that we can choose the good things we want in our lives. We can't always control the bad stuff, thats not our ball game. The powers that be way up above and down below are battling it out and we humans sometimes get hit with the frighting and sad shrapnel. However, we DO get to control how much joy and hope we let into our lives. When I read that quote, it also allows me a permission slip for life. It gives me permission to let go of a lot of things.

Last night we talked about the pressure you feel around school. School is hard for me. It always has been, and throughout my school days it was extremely difficult at times. So! In all my wisdom of 23 years *rolls eyes*, here's something I've learned: I really wish I had known back then.

School only matters when you're doing it.

When you're in the classroom, or doing your homework, its important and requires focus. However, as soon as you finish those tasks, it doesn't have to take up space in your head. You can say to yourself, "Yeah, I'm nervous about that test, but I studied, I did the work, and now I can set it aside and focus on something else." Enjoy whatever it is you want to spend your life doing. That, to me, is indescribably freeing. It takes work, I have to remind myself a lot. Yet it is so helpful to combat my crazy chattering brain. I know we both struggle with hamster brain. It's the actual worst!

Something else that has meant so much to me is this: I don't have to believe everything I think.

Some days I think about all the rules in my head. There are approximately a BILLION tiny rules I have set for myself, and I didn’t even mean to. Really, it was an accident. I picked them up, one by one, each like little shells on the beach, and as I walked along my pockets got more and more full, until I realized I had no more space. The shells were clacking together, breaking apart and leaving sand ground into my clothes. I couldn't possibly find a place for each shell in my home. They would become less precious due to their numbers. Like the shells, I can only have so many rules in my life, before they start to weigh me down.

Rules like this: you may not eat without sitting down. You must wear a necklace that accents the earrings you are wearing. Don’t leave the house without rings on your fingers. Don’t take pictures with your hair up. You may only begin a nap before 3 PM. Never leave more then one app open in the background on your phone. The pillow with gold flowers must be laid against the teal velvet pillow, as opposed to the rusty floral pillow which should always be paired with the square orange one. You may not text him before he texts you. You may not call her to meet up unless you are already talking about something else. Stevia with herbal and black tea, but never with coffee. Only dinner before 7 PM.

Some of these rules make sense... while others are ENTIRELY ridiculous and I probably made them up. The problem I have with these tiny rules is that I encounter an average of about eight per hour during the day. From the time my blessed eyes open in the morning till they shut sometime after sunset, that adds up quite a few tiny-rule-alarms blaring loudly around the inside of my skull. Red sirens and all. And with each little alarm there is a tiny voice whispering “shame on you, you’ve failed yet again”.

This is exhausting, and utterly unnecessary.

And it’s not just the tiny rules.

There are huge rules too. Far more ugly rules. Rules that harm my spirit and hurt my heart. Rules like: you are not important enough to be noticed by that person. Or: you should just be quiet and pretend you don't really need to ask for help right now. These horrible rules are not only painful, they are straight from the devil and not worth your time baby girl. If you ever catch your brain telling you that kind of garbage you call me right away and ask me to tell you how deeply loved and precious you are! Or tell someone safe who is near by. You are so important and the people in your life who know and love you will want to help you out.

When I started my most recent job nannying, the first week was hard. One day during that week I called my dad crying, while the little girl I watch was sitting on the floor playing with her singing troll doll (lord deliver me), totally oblivious to the fact that her nanny was having a fairly comprehensive meltdown. I told my dad that I felt pointless because I wasn't going to school, and I wasn't working in a job that was particularly "important" or "necessary." I said that even though I knew taking care of that little girl and her sisters was good and lovely work, I still felt like a failure and like I should be achieving more, doing more. My dad is a very wise man, he is calm and gentle and he is very well educated in the unfairness of life. He listened as I cried and then he told me with a crackle in his voice, that he so wished he could take away all the pressure I was putting on myself so I could breathe and rest. Then he said this: "The more I learn and the longer I live, I am more and more convinced of coming back to this truth: all I have to do is love others, and allow myself to be loved."

Oh sweetheart, let me tell you, that was magic to hear. It was the one thing my dad could have said that enabled me to get through that day and the rest of the week. I wrote it down, and I looked back at it hundreds of times. Every time I felt like I was failing, ever time my anxiety kicked in and my heart started racing and I felt like I couldn't breathe, every time I cried while I fed my little girl yogurt in her highchair.

"All I have to do is love others and allow myself to be loved."

Love people and let them love me.

I found myself asking things like, "In this moment what does loving well look like?" Or, "How can I let myself be loved right now?"

I wrote a little list for myself, about the things love is more important then—the things I specifically struggle with letting go of.

It is more important to love then to make loads of money.

It is more important to be loved then to achieve greatness in the eyes of others.

It is more important to love then to make everyone around me happy.

It is more important to be loved then to pretend I'm okay.

Love can be and look a thousand different ways. Love to me is often making food for people, or being fed. Doing laundry with someone is love. It is holding hands. Loving others, well, is sometimes being really, painfully, scary honest. Being loved is letting myself get help. Love can mean having fun together.

So darling, I wrote a lot. Read it slow. Read it it again if you like. Take what you need, leave what you don't. Know that I see your bravery, and your passion, I recognize there is so much right now you are learning and absorbing. I hope you see it too, and can let yourself breathe, giving yourself credit. I see you and I am proud of who you are, you are full of light, and no "wrong" choice could ever diminish your value in our realm or any other. Love and be loved. You are all and entirely a right thing on this spinning, humming planet of ours.