You, who have the beauty of the green earth,
and the white moon among the stars,
and the mystery of the waters.
Arise!
You, who have the soul of nature,
bring life to this universe.
May your living be with a heart that rejoices.
May you have beauty and strength,
honor and humility,
power and compassion,
joy and reverence
within you.
And you who seek to know peace,
know that your seeking and yearning will avail you not,
unless you know the mystery.
If that which you seek, you find not within yourself,
you will never find it without.
For Peace has been with you from the beginning,
and Peace is that which is obtained
at the end of fear.
7.13.2010
6.17.2010
Journal of Gratefulness
1. Day 48
2. sweet, juicy watermelon
3. laughing at squirrles chasing each other at the park
4. a walk with a friend
5. adorable Gracie
6. a comfy bed
7. two sweet kitties that make me smile
8. air conditioning on a humid day
9. waking up
10. Mary had a little...Sheep!
5.22.2010
Moribayassa
African drumming has become one of my favorite new activities, for a multitude of reasons. I initially started attending an informal class about two months ago, with the sole purpose of finding an activity that engaged my body more than my mind. Drumming is just that. The moment I start to think about what I am doing I immediately become out of sync with the other drummers. Drumming makes a part of me come alive like nothing else. I don't know if it is the ancient rhythms, the consistent beat that is much like the heart beat of the music, the connection to Africa. I'm not entirely sure, but I love it!
Last week we played a 'Moribayassa.' This rhythm originated in West Africa and is a strictly female experience. A woman who is facing great difficulties or challenges dances the Moribayassa in order to work out her problem and search for an answer. This is a community event and drummers follow behind the woman as she treks the perimeter of the village several times. She begins her journey dressed in dirty rags and by the end of the ritual she is wearing a new dress, signifying new life and the resolution to her problem. The rags of clothing are laid to rest under the Moribayassa, the great mango tree, within the village.
Last week we played a 'Moribayassa.' This rhythm originated in West Africa and is a strictly female experience. A woman who is facing great difficulties or challenges dances the Moribayassa in order to work out her problem and search for an answer. This is a community event and drummers follow behind the woman as she treks the perimeter of the village several times. She begins her journey dressed in dirty rags and by the end of the ritual she is wearing a new dress, signifying new life and the resolution to her problem. The rags of clothing are laid to rest under the Moribayassa, the great mango tree, within the village.
5.05.2010
Let the creative juices flow
So, I am not much of a recipe follower. This realization comes with its pros and cons.
Pros:
*I can feel free in the kitchen, as opposed to being locked in by the steps of a recipe
*When I correctly complete a recipe, I am ecstatically proud of myself, no matter how simple the task
*Forget the recipes, let's just see what I can create out of certain ingredients
Cons:
*One might be fearful fo receiving care from a nurse who has trouble following simple directions. No fear, food measurements and med measurements are two very different things.
*I've had more failed recipes than I care to admit
*Grocery bill
So today, I was curious how brown rice, edamame and craisins would taste mixed together. I am a sucker for a sweet/savory combo. Actually it turned out amazingly well and I get to be proud of my creation.
Here's the recipe-Carli style:
Cooked brown rice-you can figure out how much you want
Steamed edamame-used a bag of already shelled
Bag of craisins
Mix together, add sea salt to taste.
In separate bowl-combine honey, rice vinegar and olive oil. I don't measure, so just pour until it tastes good to you. Whisk together and then pour over the rice mixture.
Enjoy!
Pros:
*I can feel free in the kitchen, as opposed to being locked in by the steps of a recipe
*When I correctly complete a recipe, I am ecstatically proud of myself, no matter how simple the task
*Forget the recipes, let's just see what I can create out of certain ingredients
Cons:
*One might be fearful fo receiving care from a nurse who has trouble following simple directions. No fear, food measurements and med measurements are two very different things.
*I've had more failed recipes than I care to admit
*Grocery bill
So today, I was curious how brown rice, edamame and craisins would taste mixed together. I am a sucker for a sweet/savory combo. Actually it turned out amazingly well and I get to be proud of my creation.
Here's the recipe-Carli style:
Cooked brown rice-you can figure out how much you want
Steamed edamame-used a bag of already shelled
Bag of craisins
Mix together, add sea salt to taste.
In separate bowl-combine honey, rice vinegar and olive oil. I don't measure, so just pour until it tastes good to you. Whisk together and then pour over the rice mixture.
Enjoy!
5.03.2010
The Painful Holiday
The celebration will last 24 hrs but the hurt seems to never end. Mother's Day is just six days away and I hope to breathe a bit easier on May 10. At times, the pain is so severe that last Mother's Day seems like a dream. Did it really happen? The little one was just four months old and was the love of my life. Everything seemed to be going so well. Yeah, we had bumps along the way, but I was so thankful to be reconnected. Now, just 365 days later, I can only hold on to memories and be thankful for the amazing women that are in my life.
Happy Mother's Day.
5.01.2010
4.20.2010
Take Back the Night
I am in awe of the elasticity of the human spirit
how it can stretch wide
paper thin
let people in
slide our pain
out of our grieving
heaving hearts
and let it land
heavy and true
in the gentle hands
of this loving space
a gift spun of
shared sorrows
of threads of experience
we wish did not connect us,
bind us
tie us, together
in this long march
for a justice that is our birthright
stolen
behind closed doors
slammed shut by
individuals' and society's
discomfort
with dirty truths.
They say a spider's web
is stronger than its equivalent in steel
I believe in this
delicate haven we've
woven tonight
and hope teardrops
become prisms
to reflect the morning's sun
because morning will come
and we will be there to rise with it.
-by Jean Leonard, PhD.
90% of child sexual abuse is committed by someone known, trusted or related to the child.
how it can stretch wide
paper thin
let people in
slide our pain
out of our grieving
heaving hearts
and let it land
heavy and true
in the gentle hands
of this loving space
a gift spun of
shared sorrows
of threads of experience
we wish did not connect us,
bind us
tie us, together
in this long march
for a justice that is our birthright
stolen
behind closed doors
slammed shut by
individuals' and society's
discomfort
with dirty truths.
They say a spider's web
is stronger than its equivalent in steel
I believe in this
delicate haven we've
woven tonight
and hope teardrops
become prisms
to reflect the morning's sun
because morning will come
and we will be there to rise with it.
-by Jean Leonard, PhD.
90% of child sexual abuse is committed by someone known, trusted or related to the child.
4.05.2010
Does anyone care?
Provincial elections are set to begin in Sudan next week. Elections that have been in the works since at least 2005. An election would be a breakthrough for this devastated country. But now it's falling apart and it will probably only get worse. The government thrives on intimidation and threats, making empty promises to people desperate for relief. Civil war will likely resume and many more will be killed. Evidently more than 2 million dead isn't enough. Women and young girls raped, children mutilated, little boys taken into slavery, families burned alive in their huts. No war is okay, acceptable or justified. But war in Sudan is brutal, unfathomable, possibly the closest thing to hell on earth.
I have seen the faces of those who survived war. I have walked through a village that was bombed, raided and burned to the ground. I have seen people drinking contaminated and disease laden river water because dead bodies were placed in their clean water wells. I have seen young children with stick figure bodies and protruding bellies due to severe malnutrition and protein deficiency. I've held babies too dehydrated to muster a cry. I've seen a grandmother attempt to produce milk from her own breast for her orphaned grandson. I've met men, with tribal symbols etched into their foreheads, who tell stories of men on horseback who rode through the marketplace and killed everyone in sight. I have cared for a mother and her newborn, all the while wondering how this mother can love her fifth baby when the previous four have died due to entirely preventable and treatable reasons. I learned that a mother is a mother anywhere in the world. A mother who has experienced such grief and loss is still capable of loving again. Even more surprising to me, she loves without condition and without limit. She loves her baby everyday of its life, not knowing if tomorrow will be the last. Loving and nurturing her little one, her touch is gentle and her heart is full.
I hope someone cares.
I have seen the faces of those who survived war. I have walked through a village that was bombed, raided and burned to the ground. I have seen people drinking contaminated and disease laden river water because dead bodies were placed in their clean water wells. I have seen young children with stick figure bodies and protruding bellies due to severe malnutrition and protein deficiency. I've held babies too dehydrated to muster a cry. I've seen a grandmother attempt to produce milk from her own breast for her orphaned grandson. I've met men, with tribal symbols etched into their foreheads, who tell stories of men on horseback who rode through the marketplace and killed everyone in sight. I have cared for a mother and her newborn, all the while wondering how this mother can love her fifth baby when the previous four have died due to entirely preventable and treatable reasons. I learned that a mother is a mother anywhere in the world. A mother who has experienced such grief and loss is still capable of loving again. Even more surprising to me, she loves without condition and without limit. She loves her baby everyday of its life, not knowing if tomorrow will be the last. Loving and nurturing her little one, her touch is gentle and her heart is full.
I hope someone cares.
3.23.2010
The Future
So I'm 27 years old. So far, it's been a good year. It also feels like there are some new ventures up ahead.
Here are some things I am pondering:
-graduation from nursing school May 2011 (the 20th, if you really want to know)
-transition into a new role at hospice as an RN
-purchasing a home
-continue to pursue my goal of foster care/adoption
-create my own family, made up of those people dearest to me, those not related by blood
-would love to return to Africa, although I'm not quite sure what that looks like or when that will happen
-need to keep walking down this long road of healing, seeking wholeness and health in all aspects of my life
There's just so much to do...
Here are some things I am pondering:
-graduation from nursing school May 2011 (the 20th, if you really want to know)
-transition into a new role at hospice as an RN
-purchasing a home
-continue to pursue my goal of foster care/adoption
-create my own family, made up of those people dearest to me, those not related by blood
-would love to return to Africa, although I'm not quite sure what that looks like or when that will happen
-need to keep walking down this long road of healing, seeking wholeness and health in all aspects of my life
There's just so much to do...
3.13.2010
The Difficult Road
The Journey
by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
3.08.2010
Missing you
Dear Sweet Boy,
I was thinking about you today. Like I do every day. My heart feels heavier than usual today because of how much I miss you. An acquaintance that I haven't seen in a few months asked about you the other day. I didn't know what to say. My eyes got watery. I quickly changed the subject. A friend's little boy, who is about your age, is building up quite a vocabulary. I wonder what you are saying these days. I would love to be able to teach you words, like car, hot, or kitty. It would be fun to make animal sounds too. I remember how much you used to smile when I made the sound of a horsey. You will experience your first Easter egg hunt this year. I wonder what that will be like for you. You will look adorable holding your basket, I know that for sure. I try to imagine what you look like. If I didn't have pictures, I'm afraid you would feel like a figment of my imagination. Your Christmas picture is the last one I have of you. It hangs on my refrigerator so I can see you everyday. I have a special box and journal for you. I hope one day I can give it to you. So far, I have saved one of your burp cloths, a onesie you slept in at my house, your books, diaper pad, toys, even your little spoons. I also put in the sippy cup you never used. I bought that before you were even born. I will probably add your Easter card to the box and all the pictures I have of you.
Sweet boy, know that Auntie Carli loves you more than you will ever realize. Even if you don't know who I am. xoxo
2.27.2010
Really? Really?
Could it really happen? An opportunity to return to Africa? The thought is too much to comprehend most of the time. Even though nothing is for sure, dates have not been confirmed, plane tickets and visas have not been purchased, but the possibility is there. Really there.
There is a long and involved story behind all of this, one that is too complicated for the world of blogging. However, the passion for Africa is alive and well within me and resides in a sacred and protected corner of my soul. Even more profound is the experience of being on the magnificent African continent. The journey to Africa is long, tiresome and not for the timid traveler. But the exhiliration of landing on African soil is beyond words. Africa is a desperate and hopeless place though. It is a place of extreme poverty, injustice, suffering and at times, unspeakable atrocities. Yet this place resonates with me.
Walking into the compound living quarters in a village only accessible by plane, just south of the Darfur region, where just a few years ago massive air attacks were carried out and thousands of innocent men, women and children were savagely murdered, actually feels like home. There are no phone lines, no running water, electricity is produced by solar panels on top of the huts, and the Sudanese people can be heard singing and drumming in the distance as the sun sets. Water is carried in buckets from the river, children die from diarrhea, men herd cattle, there is no school, no grocery store, no written language. And this is where I long to return. To bring help and hope, relief from suffering, acknowledgement of trauma, nutrition to a starving child, immunizations to prevent disease, and maybe even deliver a baby.
http://www.sudanproject.org/
There is a long and involved story behind all of this, one that is too complicated for the world of blogging. However, the passion for Africa is alive and well within me and resides in a sacred and protected corner of my soul. Even more profound is the experience of being on the magnificent African continent. The journey to Africa is long, tiresome and not for the timid traveler. But the exhiliration of landing on African soil is beyond words. Africa is a desperate and hopeless place though. It is a place of extreme poverty, injustice, suffering and at times, unspeakable atrocities. Yet this place resonates with me.
Walking into the compound living quarters in a village only accessible by plane, just south of the Darfur region, where just a few years ago massive air attacks were carried out and thousands of innocent men, women and children were savagely murdered, actually feels like home. There are no phone lines, no running water, electricity is produced by solar panels on top of the huts, and the Sudanese people can be heard singing and drumming in the distance as the sun sets. Water is carried in buckets from the river, children die from diarrhea, men herd cattle, there is no school, no grocery store, no written language. And this is where I long to return. To bring help and hope, relief from suffering, acknowledgement of trauma, nutrition to a starving child, immunizations to prevent disease, and maybe even deliver a baby.
http://www.sudanproject.org/
2.21.2010
Feels like home
-a warm, welcoming place
-not having to ring the doorbell
-able to curl up on the couch in comfy clothes
-reading a book by the fireplace
-conversation about the events from the week or difficult subjects
-watching the Olympics
-knowing where the water glasses are
-laughing
-crying
-being real
-playing games
-experiencing true acceptance
-feeling valued
-having popcorn and ice cream for dinner on a Sunday night
I'm overflowing with gratitude after experiencing all these things. Sunday nights are worth more than a million dollars to me. I couldn't ask for more. I am so blessed.
Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.
~Frederick W. Robertson
-not having to ring the doorbell
-able to curl up on the couch in comfy clothes
-reading a book by the fireplace
-conversation about the events from the week or difficult subjects
-watching the Olympics
-knowing where the water glasses are
-laughing
-crying
-being real
-playing games
-experiencing true acceptance
-feeling valued
-having popcorn and ice cream for dinner on a Sunday night
I'm overflowing with gratitude after experiencing all these things. Sunday nights are worth more than a million dollars to me. I couldn't ask for more. I am so blessed.
Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.
~Frederick W. Robertson
2.12.2010
A day at work
*To shine brightly requires burning*
I read this quote as I left the house of a 42 year old patient with cancer. He has a wife, six young children, a degree in engineering. He is a brilliant man, truly in relationship with something greater than himself. But he is not ready to die. He can only lay on his abdomen in the electric hospital bed due to tumor growth. Weakness and pain prevent him from standing. His bed is positioned so he can look out the window, watching life continue around him as his own slips away. Cards, photos, inspirational verses and crayon artwork surround him. His younger children play outside while the older ones help with chores and do homework.
He is too tired today for a bath. Just moving from side to side in bed is exhausting. I remove the compression stockings from his pale thin legs. Legs that once ran and climbed stairs no longer bear weight. I wash his feet and massage them with lotion. I think of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. I wonder who was more humbled? I am the humbled one now.
I review his medications, spend time listening to his wife and affirm the care she provides, encourage the family to call the hospice 24hr # if any needs arise and plan to visit again later in the week. As I walk to my car the man's two youngest children follow me. A girl and a boy, maybe four and five years old. They wave to me and say "thank you for coming to see my daddy today."
I drive away from their home with tears in my eyes, my heart is touched. I am completely drained, unsure if I can make it home, dreading the paperwork that needs to be completed. But more so I am thankful. Thankful for my health, thankful for the ability to walk, thankful for fresh air and sunshine. Thankful for the children's words. Now I know why I got out of bed today. I am so blessed to have this job.
I read this quote as I left the house of a 42 year old patient with cancer. He has a wife, six young children, a degree in engineering. He is a brilliant man, truly in relationship with something greater than himself. But he is not ready to die. He can only lay on his abdomen in the electric hospital bed due to tumor growth. Weakness and pain prevent him from standing. His bed is positioned so he can look out the window, watching life continue around him as his own slips away. Cards, photos, inspirational verses and crayon artwork surround him. His younger children play outside while the older ones help with chores and do homework.
He is too tired today for a bath. Just moving from side to side in bed is exhausting. I remove the compression stockings from his pale thin legs. Legs that once ran and climbed stairs no longer bear weight. I wash his feet and massage them with lotion. I think of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. I wonder who was more humbled? I am the humbled one now.
I review his medications, spend time listening to his wife and affirm the care she provides, encourage the family to call the hospice 24hr # if any needs arise and plan to visit again later in the week. As I walk to my car the man's two youngest children follow me. A girl and a boy, maybe four and five years old. They wave to me and say "thank you for coming to see my daddy today."
I drive away from their home with tears in my eyes, my heart is touched. I am completely drained, unsure if I can make it home, dreading the paperwork that needs to be completed. But more so I am thankful. Thankful for my health, thankful for the ability to walk, thankful for fresh air and sunshine. Thankful for the children's words. Now I know why I got out of bed today. I am so blessed to have this job.
2.09.2010
A comforting thought
"As long as people have been on this earth, the moon has been a mystery to us. Think about it. She is strong enough to pull the oceans, and when she dies away, she always comes back again. My mama used to tell me Our Lady lived on the moon and that I should dance when her face was bright and hibernate when it was dark."
— Sue Monk Kidd
— Sue Monk Kidd
Sad Tuesdays
It's Tuesday. That means I must drive past your road to get to a patient's home. I didn't think about it until I was about a mile away. Then I started to cry. I thought about how different I would feel if I was on my way over to visit you, the excitement and contentment in just being able to see you, hold you. A visit would be the highlight of my day. I think about our family a lot on these snowy days. I think we would probably spend the day together. I miss those times.
Sometimes I'm afraid that I am forgetting you. Actually, I guess I can't forget what I never saw or experienced. It's not like when Nana died and I forgot the sound of her voice or her smell. With you, it feels even worse. You haven't stopped living. You are constantly learning and growing. I will never know what you are like today, on your 13 month birthday. Your Mommy and Daddy, Oma and Opa, even the day care people are part of your everyday life and get to see you change and grow. I would love so much to be one of them. I hope they know how lucky they are. I hope they cherish every single moment. I love you, little one. xoxo Auntie Carli
Sometimes I'm afraid that I am forgetting you. Actually, I guess I can't forget what I never saw or experienced. It's not like when Nana died and I forgot the sound of her voice or her smell. With you, it feels even worse. You haven't stopped living. You are constantly learning and growing. I will never know what you are like today, on your 13 month birthday. Your Mommy and Daddy, Oma and Opa, even the day care people are part of your everyday life and get to see you change and grow. I would love so much to be one of them. I hope they know how lucky they are. I hope they cherish every single moment. I love you, little one. xoxo Auntie Carli
2.04.2010
Dear sweet boy
I wonder if you have played in the snow yet? What do you think of it? Does the coldness scare you or do you like to touch it, experience it? Do the puppies play with you and run all around? I wish I could be there with you, to play, learn, enjoy.
Are you walking yet? I think you probably are. The last time I saw you you were standing up so tall at the furniture and even taking a few steps while holding on. I bet you're really on the move now.
I wonder what your little voice sounds like. You probably know a few words by now. I wish you knew my name. I'm not sure you ever will. I will always know your name though, dear one. I was there the day you were born, the first family member to arrive at the hospital, so eager to meet you. Waiting and waiting, pacing, wondering. I tried to capture so many moments from behind the camera lense. I wanted to record all of it, from the day you took your first breath, until forever. I'm not allowed to do that now, after just 10 short months in your life. My goodness little boy, you taught me so much and helped me experience so many things for the first time. Your absence is profoundly painful. I think of you everyday. Know that you are loved, even if you don't know my name.
xxoo Auntie Carli
Are you walking yet? I think you probably are. The last time I saw you you were standing up so tall at the furniture and even taking a few steps while holding on. I bet you're really on the move now.
I wonder what your little voice sounds like. You probably know a few words by now. I wish you knew my name. I'm not sure you ever will. I will always know your name though, dear one. I was there the day you were born, the first family member to arrive at the hospital, so eager to meet you. Waiting and waiting, pacing, wondering. I tried to capture so many moments from behind the camera lense. I wanted to record all of it, from the day you took your first breath, until forever. I'm not allowed to do that now, after just 10 short months in your life. My goodness little boy, you taught me so much and helped me experience so many things for the first time. Your absence is profoundly painful. I think of you everyday. Know that you are loved, even if you don't know my name.
xxoo Auntie Carli
2.02.2010
Be Gentle
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love - for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
- Max Ehrmann
- Max Ehrmann
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