Dec 2, 07

Last night our city passed a resolution to support a national Department of Peace. After months of hard work (phone calls, emails, meetings) our mayor took a chance and broke the tie in our favor.

This fall has been extremely stressful for me. For a variety of reasons my life has tipped into the greatest state of imbalance in years. This being said, I plugged on with the Department of Peace legislation and our group saw it through to the end. Watching democracy in action last night was a high I will never forget. I was awake all night, grateful to be an American. People from our community came forward to support this resolution, and angels appeared at the eleventh hour. I came away re-inspired; knowing that this can work. After eight years of feeling completely ignored by our current administration, it was an enormous emotional exhale to see that city politics and grass roots activism still matter.

It is sometimes frightening to stand up straight and fill my own shoes. To be the woman, that I say I want to be. I get overwhelmed and depressed easily. At one point I wanted to quit this campaign. I felt publicly ridiculed and increasingly alone. At another point I wanted to quit my aggressive pilots training program also. It was simply to hard. I have wanted to quit college, motherhood, Soul Soup and everything that ever mattered to me at one time or another in my life. Standing alone and speaking my truth is frequently terrifying. My legs and hands were physically trembling until 2am last night from speaking aloud before our commission. 

They don’t show that in the movies. 

Today, I am reminded of the women suffragettes, the abolitionists and the rebels that left convention behind. This county was founded on principles that were outrageous, for the times. They were pie in the sky notions of "freedom". All of us, have within our lineage a rebel, that came to this country with a belief in a better way. I bet their knees were knocking too.

I share a legacy with my children that includes many awkward public moments, and random clumsy attempts at changing the world. I am also grateful to share the moments when my kids can see that even though my hands are shaking, I will still move forward and give voice to the rebel that lives within my soul… the one that houses the bravery of my ancestors and believes in a better way.

Never, never, never, never, never, give up- Winston Churchill.

*Never doubt that a small group of committed citizens can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.- Margaret Mead

Oct 9, 07

Today is my little girls birthday. Mia is ten. Since Tuesdays are my "day off" I have about 15 things Id like to cram in before she gets home from school. I have started writing my third book, and through the hectic pace of  simultaneously cleaning the house and thwarting Van from destroying everything in it, I am dying to give voice to the words piling up inside my head. I would also like to squeeze in a nap (since nobody in our house slept last night), some house cleaning, studying, cake baking, present wrapping, excercise and quality painting time (I just had a great idea for a new piece)... in the next two and a half hours.

When I write, it is a strange phenomenom. I desperately yearn for the mental and physical space to indulge uninterupted for as long as it takes. This never happens, so I steal moments of inappropriate time (like when I should be working.) Other times, when I am finally alone, with pen in hand, I cave under the weight of opportunity. I will sit paralyzed because I feel overwhelmed.  Guilt and excitement wrestle for a front slot in my psyche. Thoughts like "I should use this time to deal with the mold problem..." are overrun with others like "you could totally go for a great hike right now... and dont you need new lingerie?" It finally turns into "You need your rest, why dont you go to the movies? Better yet, get the grocery shopping over with, and then do those horribly smelling dishes." on and on it goes. I might go so far as to get depressed from my mental exhaustion, when all I really want to do is write.

...and I have a few minutes, and instead I stare at the book I want to read next to me, and think about the cake I should bake, and feel the painting behind me burning a hole in my skull and type this blog. Hmmm.... maybe a nap would help?