I want this blog to be a way to dredge out, from the bottom of my soul the things that are constantly going through my mind about life.
But, that's just it, my kids are a miracle. They are not white like me, they are half Tongan, and they are absolutely beautiful. What is awe inspiring is that they are a part of me, if I think about it enough and look in the mirror, then I am amazed that I am a part of a long line of people. I had a moment, when I was feeling really lost. I stayed up late looking through an album that my Grandmother had put together. I don't know anyone in the album except my Grandma and Grandpa and my Dad and Uncle Mo (somehow I can't just call him Uncle, it's always Uncle Mo).
My Grandpa was a really gruff guy, I didn't know him at all. He always seemed like the mean, grumpy, old guy that we had to call grandpa. I was always wishing that he had been nice like grandpa's that you see on t.v. or in books. I never even knew that he loved me, until way later, after my grandma died and I was helping to take care of him. I went up about 2 times a week and felt guilty for not going more often. His house stank, he sat around all day, he was totally devastated by the death of my grandmother and sat in his depressed stupor for 5 years until he finally passed away about 2 day's before the anniversary of her passing.
I went up to clean, but it really reeked and it was hard to be around him, I didn't really know how to handle it. But I always tried to give him a hug and told him I loved him. One day, about a month before he died, as I was giving him a hug he said "I love you sweetheart," to me. I gasped and told him I loved him to. I cried when I got to my car, I had never expected to hear that.
My mom now tells me about how he worried over us all the time, how important we were to him. He was a WW2 vet. and had a piece of shrapnel in his leg that they wouldn't take out (I don't know why). As I looked at pictures of him, with my grandma and their first son Mo, I think of the young man that he used to be. Then as I think about it, I realize that I am a part of him, he is a part of me.
My Grandmother was a beautiful woman, and I admired her. Then I realized that I am a part of her also. I kept looking at pictures, people far back and I was concentrating on their features. Then I went upstairs and looked in the mirror, really looked. I could see features, the shape of my body, the curve of my brow, my nose, my chin, that I had never thought about before.
I feel a great sense of awe about how those noble people lived out their lives, lived and breathed and I was a part of them. Now as I snuggle with my children, and concentrate on them, I can see the same similarities. The shrug of my daughters shoulders, the concentration in my sons face, their hopes and dreams. I have gone through the same things and felt the same way, once upon a time.
I also see their Dad in them, and his mothers side and of course his father but I know so little about him. My husband's mom died when he was 6 months old, and he was raised by being passed around from family to family his dad couldn't handle raising him and his brothers. I am mom to him, sometimes it bugs me that he acts this way. We were married when I was 16 years old. It has taken forever to grow up, I have felt such a sense of loss. My cousins have all had fun travelling and being single. I had to be Mom, way too young. Plus my marriage has been very hard, there have been so many things that could have broken it. In fact I still live with scars, sometimes when I run it is because I cannot escape from the scars. I hope that things work out though.
But here is another thought on the miracle of life. We somehow are a part of everything we eat, everything we drink. There are molecules in the air that have never changed and we are breathing the same air that the dinosaurs, Gandhi, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus, has breathed. I watched a show about it, there are not that many molecules and so everyone breathes them eventually.
The apple that I ate this morning, the pine nuts, part of trees in the wilderness soaking in the sun. The water, cascading down the mountain, coursing through the streams to the reservoir. I wish I could get it from a mountain spring instead of from a treatment plant that "treats" it before I get it. Maseru Emoto has done studies on water. There is this "rice" experiment that my friend is conducting, because she read the book, where you "talk" to cooked rice and see what happens. There are a lot of videos on You Tube where people have done this experiment, it is very interesting. You say nice things to one jar of rice and mean things to another and the jar that you say nice things to doesn't rot like the one where you say mean things to.
Imagine your beautiful unique body, first a very small egg and sperm. Then cells dividing, becoming the person who you are now. I respect the right of my children to grow up in a good home environment. Sometimes I get a bit distracted and don't do the best job that I can, but I try. I will protect them, and I wish they would listen to me, because candy and so many things in this world are harmful to their bodies.
But I guess that's enough of this Tome (book) for now.
~Strawberry Girl
But, that's just it, my kids are a miracle. They are not white like me, they are half Tongan, and they are absolutely beautiful. What is awe inspiring is that they are a part of me, if I think about it enough and look in the mirror, then I am amazed that I am a part of a long line of people. I had a moment, when I was feeling really lost. I stayed up late looking through an album that my Grandmother had put together. I don't know anyone in the album except my Grandma and Grandpa and my Dad and Uncle Mo (somehow I can't just call him Uncle, it's always Uncle Mo).
My Grandpa was a really gruff guy, I didn't know him at all. He always seemed like the mean, grumpy, old guy that we had to call grandpa. I was always wishing that he had been nice like grandpa's that you see on t.v. or in books. I never even knew that he loved me, until way later, after my grandma died and I was helping to take care of him. I went up about 2 times a week and felt guilty for not going more often. His house stank, he sat around all day, he was totally devastated by the death of my grandmother and sat in his depressed stupor for 5 years until he finally passed away about 2 day's before the anniversary of her passing.
I went up to clean, but it really reeked and it was hard to be around him, I didn't really know how to handle it. But I always tried to give him a hug and told him I loved him. One day, about a month before he died, as I was giving him a hug he said "I love you sweetheart," to me. I gasped and told him I loved him to. I cried when I got to my car, I had never expected to hear that.
My mom now tells me about how he worried over us all the time, how important we were to him. He was a WW2 vet. and had a piece of shrapnel in his leg that they wouldn't take out (I don't know why). As I looked at pictures of him, with my grandma and their first son Mo, I think of the young man that he used to be. Then as I think about it, I realize that I am a part of him, he is a part of me.
My Grandmother was a beautiful woman, and I admired her. Then I realized that I am a part of her also. I kept looking at pictures, people far back and I was concentrating on their features. Then I went upstairs and looked in the mirror, really looked. I could see features, the shape of my body, the curve of my brow, my nose, my chin, that I had never thought about before.
I feel a great sense of awe about how those noble people lived out their lives, lived and breathed and I was a part of them. Now as I snuggle with my children, and concentrate on them, I can see the same similarities. The shrug of my daughters shoulders, the concentration in my sons face, their hopes and dreams. I have gone through the same things and felt the same way, once upon a time.
I also see their Dad in them, and his mothers side and of course his father but I know so little about him. My husband's mom died when he was 6 months old, and he was raised by being passed around from family to family his dad couldn't handle raising him and his brothers. I am mom to him, sometimes it bugs me that he acts this way. We were married when I was 16 years old. It has taken forever to grow up, I have felt such a sense of loss. My cousins have all had fun travelling and being single. I had to be Mom, way too young. Plus my marriage has been very hard, there have been so many things that could have broken it. In fact I still live with scars, sometimes when I run it is because I cannot escape from the scars. I hope that things work out though.
But here is another thought on the miracle of life. We somehow are a part of everything we eat, everything we drink. There are molecules in the air that have never changed and we are breathing the same air that the dinosaurs, Gandhi, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus, has breathed. I watched a show about it, there are not that many molecules and so everyone breathes them eventually.
The apple that I ate this morning, the pine nuts, part of trees in the wilderness soaking in the sun. The water, cascading down the mountain, coursing through the streams to the reservoir. I wish I could get it from a mountain spring instead of from a treatment plant that "treats" it before I get it. Maseru Emoto has done studies on water. There is this "rice" experiment that my friend is conducting, because she read the book, where you "talk" to cooked rice and see what happens. There are a lot of videos on You Tube where people have done this experiment, it is very interesting. You say nice things to one jar of rice and mean things to another and the jar that you say nice things to doesn't rot like the one where you say mean things to.
Imagine your beautiful unique body, first a very small egg and sperm. Then cells dividing, becoming the person who you are now. I respect the right of my children to grow up in a good home environment. Sometimes I get a bit distracted and don't do the best job that I can, but I try. I will protect them, and I wish they would listen to me, because candy and so many things in this world are harmful to their bodies.
But I guess that's enough of this Tome (book) for now.
~Strawberry Girl
1 comment:
I never really thought about it that much. I'm definetly like both of my parents, I'm a mini me of my mom, and my dad and I have the same personalities. I think it kind of stinks how connected everyone is, because I don't mind breathing the same air as Albert Einstein, but some of these other people I wonder about sometimes.
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