A shitty good day

           Yesterday was a good day... but it was one of the shittiest good days I have ever had. It will be logged away with that handful of other days that were also shitty but good.

I would never say I had a bad day... because every day that I am allowed to walk this earth is a damn good day. But alas some of those good days have sucked a bit.

My family and I have a running streak of "Almost" Tragedies. Those times where our very existence is in jeopardy but somehow we come out on our feet. I would qualify our most recent tragedies as: 

1. The day my husband was in an ATV accident and was helicoptered to Hartford Hospital, with a bleeding puncture wound to his one and only kidney. He spent nearly a month in the hospital ( 2 weeks in ICU)... but he made it. Just an "Almost" tragedy.

2. The day our windows were blown out of our corner apartment in a huge wind & rain storm. A sudden crack at 4am, caused Max (my husband and I) to jump from our bed with such fright that I dislocated my right shoulder. Screaming to my oldest son to run to closet and trying desperately to grab my youngest from the crib with one working arm, the blasts from the windows were a terrifying notification that we have no control over our mortality. The whole event cost us a few nights in a hotel and a good many of our belongings.... but in the end, it was only an,  "almost" tragedy. 

AND THEN THERE WAS YESTERDAY

Once the day was over and I was able to read the news I saw that we had never been in any danger... but thats not the way it seemed. In my mind and in the mind of my children who experienced it.... it will also go down as a day never to be forgotten.

IT STARTED OUT LIKE THIS...


A day full of errands: school shopping, hair cuts, groceries, etc..etc..

I had chosen to do our groceries in at the Walmart in Springfield, MA. It was close to enfield where we had picked up some school clothes and a new pair of flipflops for myself (to replace the ones I melted under the fire pit last week). Grocery shopping was the normal.." don't touch things", "put that back", "Sit down on your but", stop jumping on the cart".... & ......" FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOOOOO...YOU CANNOT HAVE POP TARTS!!!" You know.. the normal shit when you are trying to get what you need with an 8 and 2 year old boy.

Anyhow, we were down to the last few items and I was double checking the list when I noticed someone yelling at the front of the store, ( we were at the back but I had a direct line of site to the entry). Others began noticing the commotion as well and slowly everyone stopped and attempted to decipher what was happening. At first I thought, a fight maybe??? Some crazy person causing a scene????

AND THATS WHEN...

The people up front started screaming.... they began running towards us and shouting for us to run. Women were shouting for their children frantically... and employees were crying as they yelled for there comrades. I realized very quickly that something was VERY wrong........

no longer was I concerned that there was a fight.... my mind quickly jumped to.." NO NO NO...holy shit... this is really happening...!!!!" While shouting to my oldest son Taylor ( 8 years old) to "RUN .... JUST GO...RUN!!!!!!!", I desperately tried to grab Dorian (2 years old) from the shopping cart. His foot was stuck... and I became so scared at the delay. I very consciously decided to yank harder. I mean who cares about a broken foot if we are about to get shot up. I yanked him from the cart with all my might and ran... we quickly found an "employees only" door and ran through it, my Taylor was a few feet ahead. People were running scattered and pushing. My relief that the door was not locked was followed quickly by the fear that the door was not lockable and offered us no protection. In my mind I envisioned the end of our lives.... being gunned down.... holding my boys so tight. This fear filled me with propulsion and Sooo we kept running.... through the fire door... out to the back of the store. 

We crossed the back parking lot and ran into the field... the grasses were tall but not tall enough to hide in. I stopped for a moment to assess the situation. 2 hispanic women were close by, one of which was hysterically crying and screaming in spanish as she was looking back towards the store. She had gotten separated from her children and wanted to go back for them... the other women was dragging her further away in a desperation....she was crying too. All around us people kept running, scattering into the woods.  I knew the only thing I could do, was get as far away as fast as possible..... at the very least.... get my kids as far away ....as fast as possible. I still had no idea what was happening. I hadn't heard a gun shots, perhaps it was a hostage situation, or a bomb maybe.... I don't know how far shrapnel flies or how big explosions are. With Taylor staring at me waiting for direction.... I yelled for him to RUN... and I followed close behind with Dorian in my arms.

We ran into the woods and found a shoddy dirt path to follow. Once people figured out there was a path they began to follow us. All I could think was, " If there is someone meaning to cause us harm, they are going to go in the same direction as the herd, we have to get off this path".  I could see a small ravine through the woods and shouted for Taylor to get off the path and go down. He stopped and looked at me "BUT MOM... there's no path...Im scared....!!!" He started to tear up, " MOM....Im so scared!!". Im not sure if it was the right thing to do but I stopped for a brief second and grabbed him very hard..." I know your scared.... but you can't fall apart right now... there is now time for crying.... only running..... DO YOU HEAR ME..... JUST RUNNING... now go down!" He took a breath, wiped his eyes and proceeded down the hill. Together we waded through the Knee deep mud, with no time to retrieve my shoes which got stuck at the bottom and went back up the side. Many people stayed on the path..... but a few followed us. To be honest, I was comforted that we weren't completely alone. 

My arms were tired and my stamina defeated, I put Dorian down and dragged him along holding hands. He too lost his shoes. Taylor, seeing that I was exhausting... picked up his brother and carried him. We proceeded to push through the branches and make our own path, until we finally came running out of the woods into a neighborhood. We screamed to some men who were painting a house to call 911. There were about 10 of us who breeched the woods in this spot and I can't imagine what the men thought... but they immediately called 911 and tried to be helpful.

I felt safe

On the phone with the police they told me that there had been a car parked in front of the building that appeared to have had a bomb and it coincided with a very recent bomb threat. He directed us to walk to the primary road and once the bomb squad gave us permission we would be allowed to retrieve our car.

The walk back by road was approximately a mile. We were very shook up and the silence was deafening.... as most people know... little boys are rarely silent.

I was trying not to step on glass on the Springfield streets and let out a curse when I caught a piece between my toes. Taylor immediately grabbed my arm and with the deepest concern  asked "momma are you okay?". I replied "Ofcourse I am okay, I have you boys, no little piece of glass can take away how happy I am that you are safe". Taylor stopped and hugged his brother and  looked me in eye and said .... " You are my mom, I trust you..... I really.. really.. really trust you and I am thankful you were here with us". I hugged him sooooooo tight.....sometimes there just aren't any words....

We made it back just in time for the bomb squad to clear the scene. I never bothered to go back for our groceries... or my list... or my coupons. Taylor made me promise that we would never go in there again. I thought it a reasonable request and will uphold that promise with ease. 

As it turns out, It was not a bomb... It was a customer who had illegally parked on the curb, whos car had in plain site: 4 propane tanks, an unlabeled jug of liquid and a bunch of electronic devices.

So in the end, It was not even an "almost" tragedy.... but to us it was terrifying and traumatic.... 

I am an existentialist at heart... I am always aware of fleeting mortality. Sometimes I catch slack for that and often people don't relate to the choices I make. I have often been perceived as irresponsible. I have very little regard for future planning and don't care much to live up to the traditional notions of success. My life is filled with the ever present awareness that nothing is guaranteed and you can lose it all in a moment.  My life is not going to be a tragedy.... no matter how many " almost" tragedies that come my way. Each one has taught me about how to value my existence. I believe that when I pray at night and I ask god to help me always remember to live my life with passion and love, he hears me. He teaches me in the most unconventional ways, but I've always been someone that has to learn the hard way. In the end... I know he's got my back. 

Thats why despite being muddied and scratched up, with glass in my feet, I had a new pair of flip flops in the back of the car. I mean.... who melts there flip flops on a a fire pit? 

You might say...someone who is entirely irresponsible. I say someone who spent their last few bucks on weekend beers, staying up too late and talking about life with the people she loves. Someone who needed new shoes in the back of the car at just the right time.

Thats why... even the shittiest days.. are good days.

Very Small Bird

VERY SMALL BIRD

*dedicated to the girls in the break room with surrender and thankfulness*

There once was a very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary, strong enough to carry her over the tallest and furthest of mountains. This very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary, bore painted feathers rivaling the brilliance of the sun, the depth of the ocean, and the clarity of a drop of morning dew against the greenest of leaves.

The very small bird, quite adept at flying, spent her days soaring the hills and valley streams. She dared go farther each day, knowing beyond each new stretch, lay exciting and uncharted territory.  Wasting not a moment, she gazed fondly and lovingly upon each bright bloom and every gray rock. None was like the other and that made each one quite special.  For this she was thankful; the strength to fly, the sight to see, and the beauty she was able to display knowing that it added much to the color of the earth she so loved.

One day amid flight, a strong wind blew (as happens per the laws of nature) and tossed the little bird into the dark swamp. The swamp was deep with cold wet mud that weighed heavy on her wings.  She felt a sadness and very much disliked the dark swamp, so to ease her ache she made great effort to escape. Arising from the thick heavy mud she felt accomplished in her strength and quickly forgot that though the mud was cold and wet, it was also rich with the sands of time and the minerals of experience. Both these elements can be quite useful to a very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary.

But alas she was quite content with her days of flight. Her life was full and her relationship to world and those she loved was full of purpose and connection. She cared not to feel the elements to which she had been exposed in the depths of the swamp and quickly set off to the spring of god. After all, the spring of god is never further than a heartbeat away. She dipped freely in the spring, allowing the waters to rinse clean, her tired and heavy body. That mud so thick, was released with great ease, as the spring of god contains the purest of waters, created to both cleanse and heal. Once again her broad display, shown forth a brilliant spread of deeply colored feathers. She was so excited by the resilliance of her strength and beauty that she gave thanks and quickly left the spring to continue her noble pursuits. For no little birds have time to squander, this she knew to her very core.

The spring of god extended upwards toward the very small bird as her wings, much larger than ordinary extended out dripping the purest of waters. Though she was clean, she was not healed and the spring of god desired her to stay. The spring knew well that the sands of time did render her fragile skin abraded in preparation to absorb the minerals of experience. To this fact, the very small bird was naive and ill prepared. In her rush to take flight she neglected her skin and soon found herself to be surrounded by undesirable consequences.

In a short time, the feathers that dressed the very small birds much larger than ordinary wings, began to gray. She did not know her feathers to be gray and soon became dissillusioned with them, for these gray feathers did not resemble those she so loved to display.  And so.... she thought not to display them. Soon the other small birds (noticing her departure from the skies) came to call upon her.
         

          "Why do you not travel over the furthest and highest of mountains any longer?" they asked. "We so love to share our adventures and moments with you".

          She replied with a loving but dim heart " My feathers have grayed and show no color. What good is it to travel and experience the worlds beauty if I have none to share in return?"

The other little birds saw that she was naive and ill prepared to accept her imperfections. They flew towards the sky, because no little birds have time to squander. This they had learned from her.

Her heart stung with loneliness as her abrasions turned to wounds. She felt certain that her much larger than ordinary wings now drained of their former glory, were not capable of fulfilling their purpose. As she chose to temper her flights and decrease their frequency, her muscles began to atrophy and her span began to stiffen.

One day as the very small bird walked the valley grasses, her beloved came to call.

He spoke from the depths of his heart. "My love, I see that your wings have grayed and have declared their experience. Come fly with me and let our tender hearts gaze upon the ever changing land"

She looked upon him, weak with insecurity and responded, "My muscles have atrophied and my span has become stiff. What good is it to fly together if I have not the strength to meet you at your greatest heights?"

Her beloved saw that she was naive and ill prepared to accept her imperfections. He flew towards the sky, because no little birds have time to squander. This he had learned from her.

Her heart stung with loneliness and her wounds began to bleed. She felt certain that her beloved could capture the grandness of flight much better without her. She bowed her head to the ground and her feathers began to fall out...... one....by one....by one....

The moments passed and the days pushed forth. The little bird with wings much larger than ordinary wept by the spring of god each day. Her terrible sorrow was met with the reflection of such. Through the purest of waters all the little birds can see their wounds with great clarity.

One day her young birds approached her and with great excitement exclaimed:

"Momma, Momma, we know your glory, we trust your love and we are ready for you to teach us how to fly!!!!" She ached so deeply as never before and tearfully spoke, "How can I teach you how to fly when I haven't any feathers to display, nor strength to carry me? How can I teach you how to fly if can no longer remember how?"

Now... little birds have no time to squander in matters of flight, but the squandering of time is a matter of perception. Since the young birds had not yet flown over the highest and furthest of mountains their minds remained simple and unobscured by the beautiful world that can sometimes blind.

They crept up to their mothers very small body, which by comparison was quite larger than their own. 

"Momma, you have wings much larger than ordinary, perhaps you could just catch us when we fall?"

The very small bird heard the bravery and fearlessness in the voices of her young birds and admired them so. She glanced to her reflection in the spring and saw that, yes, she was very capable of catching them should they fall. After all, she had wings much larger than ordinary.

As her young birds made their attempts at flight, they did indeed fall. But determined to help them fly, she stretched her stiffened featherless wings as far as they needed to go. As the lessons proceeded she found her wings to span with greater ease.

She felt happiness in her capability and once again decided to return to the spring of god. Her mind was swept with confusion and questioning..

"I see that I am capable of more than I assumed, why do I feel so lost?"

To which the spring replied "please fall, so that I may catch you."

The little bird saw her pride in jeopardy. "I did fall and you rinsed me! I did as I should and with my wings much larger than ordinary, I continued upon my path. No little birds have time to squander."

The spring of god pleaded with the very small bird. "I did rinse you, this is true, but despite your cleansing your were not healed. The minerals of experience have seeped into your wounds and have not been met with my purest of waters. I beg of you, please fall..... so that I may catch you."

With nothing left but the reflection of her naivety and ill preparation she surrendered to the spring of God and bathed in its purest of waters. She returned day after day and in time began to sprout feathers.....one ....by one....by one....

After all no time spent in the spring of god is squandered.

And... all you need to learn to fly... is the bravery to and fearlessness to jump... knowing you will be caught if you fall. For even wings much larger than ordinary are limited when attached to a very small bird.

-Chandra Lynn Colleen Ribeiro

         

"Faith" & Boy Scouts

I keep hearing about how, as a result of the Boy Scouts opening their doors and accepting openly gay boys, the faith based groups that sponsor the boy scouts will pull out of sponsorship, rendering the organization in ruin.

 WELL.... hear this..... THERE ARE PLENTY of parents just like me that did not allow our son to scout, for the simple fact that the leadership was presenting itself in a discriminating fashion. Now we and people like us, can happily encourage our boys desire to scout. Not only that, But I am positive that there are plenty of organizations that will step up to the plate and replace the "Faith"based groups that abandon the scouts.

Perhaps this will give those "faith"based groups more time on sunday to ask for forgiveness for deserting their brothers and sisters.

Now.... I am a terrible christian, and I am christian only by family. I grew up in baptist church & figured out at an early age that it was not consistent with my ideas or beliefs. SO... if you are a devout christian, you can immediately discredit me and go about your day.

My spiritual beliefs stem ironically from the sign that hung OUTSIDE my childhood church. "GOD IS LOVE".... thats what it said.

As long as I can remember, I have been filled with a deep sense of love. Love guides me in all of my decision making & is the groundwork for any desire I have ever felt that was worth anything. So in my estimation, the abandonment of people who would support love in ANY fashion goes against GOD.

 I get confused when folks state they have "faith" in God yet fail to leave the Judging solely to him/her/it.
Isn't that a primary tenet? Judge not? And here you are judging children to be a type that you should not associate with....

 Last time I checked the sacred Jesus surrounded himself with those who would be otherwise disapproved of.

SO if to honor him you are to emulate him..... you are doing a shitty job.

But who am I to say .......after all I am a terrible Christian

Love
Chandra

On the 7th day

***This post contains copyrighted material, I'm sure the publisher doesn't appreciate this unless it happens to  result in greater book sales. The Author however, often pirates his own material and gives it away for free online. Considering I respect the author tremendously...and his goal is to make sure the words are shared.... I will take my chances***

I stayed up later than I should have last night. This is a bad habit I would like to break. Unlike most nights, which I mindlessly search for something to occupy my eyes until they can no longer hold themselves, last night I found something better. 

Reflection

I have a difficult time reflecting on things that matter, mostly because it requires patience & attention. Both of which I have little of. Yesterday however the book I have been waiting for, finally hit the shelves and despite it not being in the "budget", I went and got my copy.

Paulo Coelho is my favorite author. Though his books are generally written in a fictitious style, they each hold elements of what I would say is "the human truth". They kick up the dust on profoundly meaningful subjects and always inspire me to remember..... THat I have a PurpoSe. Even if my purpose is valuable only to me.... I have one & I want desperately to see it through. Whatever it may be.

Below is  an excerpt from his most recent book, "Manuscript Found in Accra". I chose to share this piece because It made me think of two friends. One friend whom I adore dearly that recently told me, "Love is not real". And another, an old friend whom I spoke to for the first time in many years. He, as a result of an impending divorce, has come to that inevitable place in life.... where beyond control... everything just changes.

"Wait patiently for the right moment to act. 

Do not let the next opportunity slip by you. 

Take pride in your scars.

Scars are medals branded on the flesh, and your enemies will be frightened by them because they are proof of your long experience of battle. Often this will lead them to seek dialogue instead of battle.

Scars speak more loudly than the sword that caused them.

                                            "Describe the defeated ones", said a merchant, 

                                           when he saw that the copt had finished speaking.

And he answered:

       The defeated are those who never fail.

    Defeat means that we lose a particular battle or war. Failure does not allow us to go on fighting.

      Defeat comes when we fail to get something we very much want. Failure does not allow us to dream, its motto is: "Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed".

       Defeat ENDS when we launch into another battle. Failure has no end; it is a lifetime choice.

       Defeat is for those who, despite their fears, live with enthusiasm and faith.

      Defeat is for the valiant, only they will know the honor of losing and the joy of winning. 

   

 I am not here to tell you that defeat is a part of life; we all know that. Only the defeated know love. Because it is in the realm of love that we fight our first battles and generally lose.

  

  I am here to tell you that there are people who have never been defeated

        They are the ones who never fought.

    They managed to avoid scars, humiliations, and feelings of helplessness, as well as those moments when even warriors doubt the existence of god.

       Such people can say with pride, "I've never lost a battle". On the other hand, they will never be able to say: "I won a battle". 

        Not that they care. They live in a universe in which they believe they are invulnerable; they close their eyes to injustices and to suffering; they feel safe because they do not have to deal with the daily challenges faced by those who risk stepping out beyond their own boundaries.

     They have never hear the words, "goodbye" or"I've come back. Embrace me with the fervor of someone who, having lost me, has found me again".

      Those who were never defeated seem happy and superior, masters of a truth they never had to lift a finger to achieve. They are always on the side of the strong. They are like hyenas that only eat the leavings of lions.

       They teach their children: "Don't get involved in conflicts: you'll only lose. keep your doubts to yourself and you'll never have any problems. If someone attacks you, don't get offended or demean yourself by hitting back. There are more important things in life".

      In the silence of the night, they fight their imaginary battles: Their unrealized dreams, the injustices to which they turned a blind eye, the cowardice they managed to conceal from other people--but not from themselves--and the the love that crossed their path with a sparkle in its eyes, the love that god intended for them, but which they lacked the courage to embrace.

    And they promise themselves: "Tomorrow will be different"

   But tomorrow comes and the paralyzing question surfaces in their mind: "What if it doesn't work out"? 

       And so they do nothing.

       Woe to those who were never beaten! They will never be winners in this life.

                                         "Tell us about solitude", said a young woman

                                          who had been about to marry the son of one of 

                                      the richest men in the city but was now obliged to flee.

And he answered:

      Without solitude, love will not stay long by your side

      Because love needs to rest, so that it can journey through the heavens and reveal itself in other forms.

      Without solitude, no plant or animal can survive, no soil can remain productive, no child can learn about life, no artist can create, no work can grow and be transformed.

     Solitude is not the absence of love, but its compliment. 

     Solitude is not the absence of company, but the moment when our soul is free to speak to us and help us decide what to do with our life.

      THEREFORE, blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with, something to judge.

      If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself."

The story goes one in a biblical type format and continues to be a blend of inspiring quotables and confusing statements that you have to stop and ask ..... "what the hell does that mean?"

But in my estimation...Thats the POINT

Reflection is the sum of asking yourself  "What does it mean & what does it mean to me". In the end hopefully you end up with something more meaningful.... some belief.... some tenet.... some arrow pointing you in the direction you are meant to go. 

 Both of my friends are strong, insightful people.......Both of whom will read this and know why I have shared it ....... They will each understand pieces of it.....but even better... they will find other pieces and ask themselves the question, "what the hell does that suppose to mean?"

ANd to them.... and everyone else..... I say.... THATS the point!  =0)

**Chandra