Summer . . . Childhood . . . Life . . .  all precious.  All fleeting.

Every summer seems to have a surprisingly abrupt end, no matter how many wonderfully slow moments comprise it.

And childhood is no different.  

Whether we look back at our own childhood or watch our offspring grow up before our eyes, childhood is an intense blur of life’s best magic mixed with some of its harshest lessons.

Over the last few weeks we lost a beautiful mother and member of my school community quite suddenly, right before her children’s first day of school.

There is a density in the air I breathe right now.  I think it is my effort to stop time.  I am grasping for the coat tails of summer's softness . . . my fresh middle schooler's childhood  . . .  my "prime" of life.

Sometimes events in life invite us to redefine our relationship with time, whether it be our last day of vacation, a first day of a new school year, or a loss of a friend.  Our souls are asking us to slow down enough to grab a hold of the moments called Life within our days.  Because these moments aren’t flying by us.  We are flying by them.

Take some photos today, through your senses, of life’s beauty.  Here and now.

Do you recall the last time your self perception was challenged by someone?  

I was just told by my dishwasher repairman that I am listed as an "Abusive User" on their service log by the last two repairmen that serviced my dishwasher. 

I gasped.  Declared him to be ridiculous.  Ranted about the poor design of my dishwasher and left the room, slightly grinning.

You may ponder the accuracy of the verdict, knowing that I've called for a repair three times this year.
The truth:  I learned I have a highly sensitive dishwasher that can't handle the slightest particle of food.  So my dear dishwasher truly feels abused.

In the end, being blind-sided by my dishwasher opened me up to the unknown possibility of other gaps in my perception of self. A little unsettling I must admit.

I decided this week, instead of cursing the low performing model, I would try to use the extra time required to pre-wash my plates before washing them.  I'm going to ask for openness in seeing the impacts I have on others and to be gentle with myself as I learn to do a better job finding the crumbs.

We spend so much time in front of the sink. I invite you to use that time as a moving meditation of sorts.  Take an honest look inward, invite in what you need, or be open to receiving what the universe delivers, in whatever form it arrives.

There are times in life when we look through a microscope to analyze and select the right experience for ourselves.  It may be when we pick a college, a mate, or a job.  

My family is searching for the best final home for my 95 year old grandmother, while at the same time I am trying to find the best middle school for my daughter.  And it dawned on me that somewhere between age 10 and 95 there are many moments when we turn on cruise control.

How might life be different if I regularly evaluated it with the same microscope of questions that I'm applying to this crazy school tour process we go through, raising our children in San Francisco:

Does my environment stimulate learning?

Am I inspired to be my fullest self?

Is there time built into my week to be creative, physical, and intellectual?

Does my peer group bring out the best in me?

Who are my teachers?

What time does my day start and end?

Am I encouraged to take risks and make mistakes?

Do I get a hot lunch?

Am I able to be myself?

I'm interested ~ What is your list?  How is life measuring up . . . what selections can you make to fine tune it? 

It's been raining in San Francisco.  And I find it to be a gentle invitation to slow down and focus inward. 

Don't we treasure the rare day when rain allows us to just stop?  Stay home. Cancel plans. Just be.

When we are out in it, there is a mindfulness that rain requires  ~  stepping over a puddle, sharing an umbrella, driving slowly. 

Rain invites us to tap into our senses.  We get wet.  We smell worms.  And when we listen, there is a rhythm to the rain that soothes . . .  the raindrops against the window,  the melody of windshield wipers, even the drip of a leaky roof. 

Can this rainy day invite you to be more present  . . .  to shift your pace?

Wisdom has many messengers.  Last Sunday it was my seven year old.  I don't plan to use this blog to talk about my kids, but these lessons are worth sharing.  


Upon asking her to eat a red pepper while she was drawing, 
"No Mommy. I don't have a lot of time for that these days."

Be Mindful.
 
Upon asking her to get dressed, 
"No Mommy.  I am not a supermodel.  Pajamas are just fine for me."

Stop focusing on the External.

 Upon asking her to stop her project so we could read, 
"No Mommy.  I will live till I'm ninety.  I have plenty of time."

Time is Abundant.
 
Upon asking her to get in the car to go out and about,
"No Mommy.  We bought this house, now let's use it!"

Be Still.