Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Return to What is Real

Dear Friends,
 
I hope you’ve enjoyed your holidays and are happily beginning the fresh new year stretched out
before you! An extended vacation I chose to take from social media helped me discover a few things, or I should say “rediscover.”

I found much more time to work on the creative endeavors that usually get pushed to the end of the day. I painted, and sketched, and played with words for my upcoming e-book. I read books and leafed through magazines for uplifting articles. I tried out new recipes and stirred up some old favorites. I tried out a new craft – wool felting – and finished a long forgotten counted cross-stitch project. More room for meditation and daydreaming – that oh-so-important method for stirring up the imagination – crept into the latter hours when my energy shifts into low gear. I walked outdoors until the deep freeze settled into my tiny township.

The days seemed longer in a good way and allowed lots of space for good conversation. I listened and occasionally stepped up on my soapbox to say what calls to me as important when some random comment sparks a thought. For the most part I avoided all the bad news. Much of the “news” we read or watch can’t truly be trusted anyway and at best is biased according to who writes or reports it. On social media we are essentially preaching to a choir of our own design so I’m not sure to what degree sharing on social media actually rallies any new support or mobilizes a solution for our particular cherished cause.

Then, coincidentally, I was privileged to read the concerns of an eight-year-old child – not on the internet but written in pencil with all the heart and depth and misspelled words on lined paper of a living, breathing child that I have the honor to know.

The child asked why people are “always on their technology but no longer talk to each other.” “People are addicted to their cell phones,” dared this brave young voice of wisdom. “Am I the only one who knows this?” asked the youngster. Thankfully the child shared these words with a caring mom who, by sharing the notebook with me and a few others, has awakened awareness for a few.

My phone is archaic with no internet connection, yet I am guilty of too much internet time. My goal is to become less involved online, the way it used to be before technology invaded our lives with its promise of making life simpler. I’ve not found technology to make life simpler but rather to have traded the old headaches for new, more infuriating ones. And most significant, computer time has taken time from those I love and the activities that feed my soul. Social media only gives the illusion of connection and I’ve heard from reliable sources that teens are actually afraid to talk to each other in person because they don’t know how! Now that is tragic.

On that note, I am giving up “the scroll” on social media which tends to turn my intention to look at “just a few posts” into an endless maze where I lose precious minutes and my mind turns mushy. From now on look for one post I will share from my RobinHeartStories page and maybe an occasional extra per day.

I care what is going on for you and if you’re local, let’s set aside some time to get together one to one with no distractions, where we can be unedited and real, not a polished-up version of ourselves. Local or otherwise, if you’d like to have a heart to heart on the phone please message or email me with your number or ask for mine and we’ll chat like in the old days, strumming our vocal chords with the latest in captured dreams and creative imaginings. Or maybe we’ll be a compassionate ear for each other’s hurt or recently suffered disappointment. Whatever it is, live, minute by minute contact will bring us closer together and provide a future a child will be proud to be part of.

Let’s make it a Happy New Year for everyone!

Many Blessings,

Monday, May 29, 2017

Summer Memories Part 3

If you’ve been following this thread of “Summer Memories,” you know that I started out finding a
“spirit rock” and had followed the spirit line it contained like a road to the past. As I stood holding the rock at creeks edge, my mind part way between now and the then, a frog jumped into the water leaving ripples in his wake. I recollected a frog making the same plop sound way back when as he jumped into the shadows and hid himself from perceived danger when my friend Judilee and me appeared to catch tiny fish and pollywogs swimming in the warmer sunlit pools. Later my little friend and I bugged her brothers to let us join them in the treehouse her dad built the summer before. They claimed “boys only” and went about their manly impersonations. We girls were oblivious to any danger in our quest to gain entry to that treehouse. If the boys could scale the makeshift ladder, so could we. The boys heard us coming and reiterated “No girls allowed!” from their lofty perch. Our victorious giggles rang out across the cow pasture after Mr. Shea stopped his tinkering long enough to call to the boys “Let the girls come up there now, ya hear?”

We scrambled up the ladder, climbed hand over hand, and when I reached for the next handhold near the completion of my goal, a broken branch stabbed my palm. I struggled back down with one bum hand held protectively at my side and ran through the back door wailing a pained cry. I held out my injury to Mrs. Shea who turned to a nearby cupboard and grabbed a tissue for my tears and a clear unlabeled jar filled with who knows what. She dabbed the mysterious, mustardy yellow, foul-smelling salve onto the wound, bandaged it with gauze and tape, kissed my cheek, and hugged me. “There. It’ll be fine.” She smiled down at me and I trusted her faith that it would indeed be fine and when she said I could tackle that ladder again, I believed her.

In later years I referred to Mrs. Shea as my second mom for all that she brought to my life. She remains at the top of the list of many loving adults who cheered me on as I grew. Her husband remains in my heart for similar reasons but I’ll save that for next time. Until then breathe in the beauty of this day, your day, and the Earth that supports you! Wishing you well in it!

What are some of your summer memories? I'd love to hear!
Robin