The Death Grip of Holding On Too Tight

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This post is dedicated to all I have a hard time with letting go. Even those that I just mentally hang on to, maybe especially for them.:-)

So, I find myself on this Tuesday morning in my house alone. It is quiet, except for construction workers getting ready for a day in the sun building the beach mansion across from me for a wealthy Sketcher family member. (I try not to get angry about it, but it’s blocking my view of the ocean as I live in an original surf shack, one of the few, sigh.) And then of course, I can hear the ever-present surfers slamming car doors excitedly, filled with energy, ready to run to the surf and tackle waves. I love them in a way I can’t explain. No, it’s not for the abs and sexy shoulders gals. It’s because they remind me, that every day is new. You’ll see excitement in the old guys and the young ones who can’t wait to find out just how tough or soft the waves are that morning. This spot in front of my house is never the same. It may look the same, but underneath is magic. A full moon appears and the ocean responds with so much energy you can feel the electric pull along with all those trying to ride. The sun sets, especially in winter, and it’s exploding apricot and violet and cinnamon just at its edge and I’m filled with gratitude with my neighbors who watch with me while sipping their wine. (I sit in the sand, they sit on the balconies of their mansions, but we are all the same in that moment.)

Why am I sharing this? Because lately, I’ve been away and my mind became cluttered with negative energy and fear. I’ve missed just watching these daily rituals in my hood that remind me that every day is filled with raw potential and it demands that I get in that flow and out of my house and my head. (a hard task for a writer!) This morning I find myself writing in my empty house and listening to the world outside that is asking me to join in. But I stay inside as I find myself hold on mentally to those I love. How are my boys, now away and with their dad for the first time in what, five months? How is my friend who is suffering from depression? Why hasn’t another dear friend gotten back to me? Is he ok? Is he mad at me? Am I a good enough friend? And then there is this, that I’ve been hanging on to for years…why do I still want to hear from that person who is clearly wrong for me? Sigh. These thoughts swirl in my mind. So instead of going for a run on the beach, or doing my yoga routine or the 22 pushups I’m doing every day for 22 days as a challenge, I’m sitting with my thoughts, my worries, and allowing them to just be. Today, I will embrace them. Then I’m going to let them go. (And really let them go, as I have to leave to teach some beautiful souls fighting cancer. It’s hard to not be in the present moment with those who are acutely aware that today may be their last.) But back to my lingering, looping thoughts of those I just won’t let out of my heart and mind…When it comes to my friends and those who I need to let go, I will see them in a golden light. I will see them as free and happy and I will mentally lift them up to the clouds. When it comes to my children, well that’s a bit harder.

For the longest time I thought letting go meant I was a bad mother. But in reality, I don’t own my children. I can love them and give them guidance, but then I have to let them follow their own path. I adore this passage by Kahlil Gibran:

“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.”

 

When I hold on it takes the mental form of worrying or being filled with regret or longing or what ifs. It’s a form of fear. It’s a form of distraction, as it’s keeping me from embracing the new day, the new potential, the new chance to ride my own wave and get into a flow with the Universe.

 

Jack Kornfield, renown Buddhist author and monk  said in his article Letting Go:

“In the end we discover that to love and let go can be the same thing. Both ways do not seek to possess. Both allow us to touch each moment of this changing life and allow us to be there fully for whatever arises next.”

And I’ll add that allowing ‘whatever arises next’ is not in ANY way a form of disregarding or disrespecting the love you have for others. For a few months now I have been letting go some very dear souls and it is a loss. A deep loss. But they need to follow different paths and I want them to be happy. It’s that simple. If you love in the truest sense, you want everyone to be happy. Not happy doing what you envision. Not happy being there for you always. But happy in the way they define happy. So I love them and want them to do what makes their hearts sing, even if that is without me in their lives.

Once I start letting go, others come in. But for whatever reason, when I start to let others in, I feel a bit unfaithful to those who used to be such a big part of my life. It’s silly. It’s another form or getting in my own way and stopping the flow or current the Universe wants me to be in. This weekend I’m meeting some beautiful souls. They are even staying with me, although I don’t yet know them. They are yoga teachers from the East Coast who are dear friends with a new friend of mine I met in Peru. These guys have started a clothing line and need a place to stay as they go on photo shoots, etc. to promote it. Every time we speak or text, it’s quite funny as we are in sync. Both have to go to meditate and get more sleep after being in or teaching a class. They are definitely sweet souls and new friends with viewpoints I get and a positivity that is infectious.

My friends from my TUT trip to Peru are coming in as well this week. One of my yoga students has given us her house in Topanga—only one of my favorite places in LA or the world! How lucky am I?? I’m beyond excited to hike and practice yoga and just reconnect with these new girlfriends that I adore. And on Monday, my soul sister I met last summer in Barcelona is coming in. She is a new friend, yet an old one. It’s hard to explain. It’s like we knew each other before or have been friends a very, long time. So she’ll be here visiting till Wed. and may go to classes with me, hang on the beach. I’m so very lucky to have such soulful friends. The connections are pure and deep and it’s what I’ve always wanted.

So, I pause today, feeling my feelings of loss. I will accept that I miss some people who are precious to me, still very important to me, yet aren’t in my life right now. I accept that I miss them. I accept that they still have pieces of my heart with their names on them, pieces that will always be theirs. But I do not own them. And they do not own me. I will accept these feelings that I have. Even the ones where I worry that I’m being unfaithful by embarking on new friendships. I am not. I just miss them. But they are on their own journey. I respect that. Love is free. Love is simple. Love just requires us to love, accept and let others be happy on their journey. The only crime is when I don’t love myself enough to let myself be free, fly, flow, and seek out a new day with new opportunities, new friendships. So to love others freely, requires that I love myself with as much compassion.

My habit for the past year, every day when I wake up, is to mentally say to myself: thank you for this new day. May I love well. May I live presently and please God, let me let go.

I don’t own this life. I am only passing through. I don’t even own this body. So just because I love my children or love family or friends doesn’t mean that I own them either. My love isn’t a chain. It doesn’t mean they are forced to DO anything. They are free to live how they choose, even if that way hurts themselves or shuts me out or goes down a path that I never considered. I let go with love. I wish them well with love. Because in the end, love is all about letting go. It is all about acceptance and not just validation or meeting my needs. If I truly love someone, anyone, then I want them to be happy. It’s as simple as that. And only those who are wild and free and following their dreams are truly happy. Those who feel chained or trapped out of obligation can never truly be content.

Just my wandering Tuesday morning thoughts, straight from my heart, filled with love.

Have a beautiful day,

Laura

100+ Follows!

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WOOHOO!! I received word a few weeks ago that I reached a milestone of 100 followers…I believe it’s 104 today. Isn’t that amazing? I’m so grateful to all of you who read my musings and who are on this journey with me as I evolve into a more conscious human being and navigate this world of mine as a single mom, yoga teacher, writer and budding novelist. Phew! That’s a lot isn’t it? Geez. And that doesn’t even touch my day to day life juggling needs as a FT mom and being single: striving to stay positive, focussed, motivated and find time to eek in a little fun, love, travel, adventure. You know, what we all seek—the spice in our rice, the music that makes us want to dance, or the moment our heart races when we recognize a person as a dear friend or potential ‘one’ that makes life so much more than just life. You know?

 

So, thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you—new and old followers—of NavigatingVita. Since I started this blog August 26, 2011 a lot has changed in my life. My divorce became official. I broke up with a man that I thought I might marry. (The first man I had kissed in 15 years since my husband, so maybe I needed more experience dating too…) I joined a support group. I began and finished 4 yoga trainings. I now teach yoga. I wrote a novel. Yup, after taking a 15 year hiatus from creative writing after I completed my first novel in grad school, well, I jumped back in. I wrote a novel that was inspired by a true story uncovered when I was a newspaper reporter in the North Carolina mountains, moons ago. And, I started writing another novel. (See excerpt here.) I’ve travelled a lot: England, Italy (3 x), Spain, Czech, Hawaii (3x) Costa Rica, Peru, Mexico…And stumbled upon some cool experiences, such as being on the Queen Latifah show as a Contestant # 3 for her Dating Game Show. A well-intentioned neighbor, who happened to be a producer for her, decided I needed help finding a date since I rarely get out except to take or do yoga. It was a hilarious experience! And even with the help of Queen Latifah, her bachelor chose the grandmother out of the three contestants because she was the one who talked dirty and promised sex on the first date. (Men, is that all that it takes? Maybe for another blog post, but seriously?! My kids were watching too, could NOT go there. Hmmm.) Here I am last Feb. embarrassed after Queen Latifah tried to insinuate that I was a southern good girl, but not that good. Go figure. Still didn’t get the date! Probably a good thing.:-)
The Queen Latifah Show Season 2

So, what can I say? Life is good. Life is challenging. Life can be upsetting and then suddenly delicious. It can become overwhelming and tedious and boring and then suddenly beautiful without words sufficient to express that beauty or the enormous amount of gratitude felt. Throughout it all: throughout the disappointments of agents not accepting my work, and then the high of one who does— or the boy who breaks my heart so completely that I can barely function … And of course my boys who are my anchor and mean everything to me. Throughout it all, I write as a means to seek, to find my center, to garner a balance, catch my breath and to embrace compassion, patience and forgiveness. And…still find time to dance and travel—at least once a  year! This is what motivates all my blog posts in one way or another. Even if indirectly as I am somewhat private. If I write about how to discover your worth and uncover hidden, sabotaging beliefs, trust me, it’s because I need to write about that topic due to poor or impulsive choices. If I write about how yoga enhances creativity and helps bash self-doubt, it’s likely because I’m teaching too much, not practicing daily yoga and therefore, finding it hard to carve out time every day to feel entitled to write that novel. Who do I think I am, right? So, I often write about what I need to learn. It’s the same when I teach yoga as each week there is a theme to my classes: forgiveness, acceptance, surrender, strength, combating anger, staying open, trust, faith, etc. You get the idea. I teach and write about what I need to learn. And if any of this has resonated with you, I’m truly honored.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.

I’m sending so much love & light & laughter to you all. Life is a trip—and one only worth navigating with dear friends. Thank you for the support.

With gratitude,

Laura x

Sneak Peak of my next novel: Between Thoughts of You

I am infinitely curious about love. What defines love? Is it a feeling? Is it action? Can it truly last a lifetime? Why do some with a lukewarm type of love stay together for a  lifetime—yet others, who seem to have a more passionate love—fall apart? And can someone truly love another, yet lie and belittle that person at the same time? What kind of love is that? If behavior is hurtful or disrespectful, how can love still exist? How can we trust that the person we choose to love, we choose to be faithful to and to build a life with, really loves us in the same manner—or will continue to choose to love us during hard times?

People who rush into marriage say silly things like, “I just knew!” But for those of us who ‘knew’—and years later were cheated on, lied to, disrespected—we come out of it on very shaky ground. Can we really trust our intuition and gut feelings about another person again? How do we know our next partner will keep his/her promises? How do we know we can trust what we think is real? Maybe it’s all a sham, in the end. When reality suddenly shifts dramatically, it’s hard to trust. When lie upon lie upon is revealed, the person who lied and cheated may feel relief to no longer be living a lie, yet the person cheated on sinks into a despair, questioning everything. “Was he really on the phone with his dad when we were lying in bed after making love?” … “He said he loved me every fucking morning before work. It’s such bullshit. Our whole life was bull shit.”
Questions and maddening thoughts swirl. After the questions fade, a deep malaise can settle in.

That’s where the main character of my next novel, Between Thoughts of You, is when the novel begins. She is numb. She feels hopeless. And she has no idea that her life is about to change forever by an old man—by the secrets kept by an old man. His trust in her—his choice to let her be the only one to hear his deepest secrets kept from friends and family for more than 55 years—will literally transform her.

But first, let me introduce Lulua ‘ina, aka Lulu, to you in this mini sneak peak of the novel I’m writing. I’m obsessed with Lulu. I hope you will be, too.:-) This tiny scene is told through the eyes of the old man she takes care of. Six months earlier in Honolulu, her baby suddenly died. Three months after, her husband left her for her best friend. To say she is disillusioned and heart broken is an understatement. Lulu fled Oahu at her first opportunity. It was also her first time leaving Hawaiian soil. She felt as if she had nothing to live for, so taking the job as the sole hospice nurse of an old man wasn’t a hard decision. She has no resentment for the round-the-clock care she now gives, because she no longer has any needs or expectations for her life. Right now, she wants to fulfill an old man’s wish to die on Tuscan soil. That’s what she thinks. Little does she know, that his dying wish is really to find the one person he can tell his deepest secrets to.

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“The old man leaned onto his left shoulder, as if sizing her up with a better view. Lulu had a round, pale and yellowish face with eyes that were both almond shaped and long, slim at the same time. These were her genetic features given to her by her mother who was half Japanese and half Hawaiian.

With moss green eyes, a tall forehead, a pointy chin and freckles she was named for, Lulu was clearly a genetic mutt. The day she was born, her grandfather named her “Lulua`ina [loo loo (w)ah’ ee nah] which means freckles. Lulu grew to have long, thin black hair (also like her mother) but was tall, angular and boney, unlike the rest of her Hawaiian family. These traits, she was told, were thanks to her German father, whom she never met.

Her appearance fascinated the old man. The moment he saw her picture on her application, he demanded that his sons fly her out so he could meet her. Her resume wasn’t terribly impressive, they argued. She’d get homesick and want to run back to Hawaii. Their arguments fell flat. It didn’t matter that there were nurses in Italy, he had to meet her. And when she walked into his bedroom that afternoon, with all his boys sitting around his bed, the old man knew she was the one. She was who he wanted to die with. She was the one he would tell. Just like that, he knew. Partly because of her Asian traits. And partly because he sensed the sadness beneath her calm demeanor, like a storm that needed to brew. And the old man loved brewing storms. He loved drama of any kind. And he especially loved beautiful women who needed to be rescued.

“You’re heart-broken,” he spat out. “Anyone can see that.”

She blinked in response.

“Dreams will come back to you, when you start to heal. Then, you’ll be ready for their messages.” He rose an eyebrow before saying, “You know what I mean?” His signature catch phrase.

New Friends on My Journey

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Photo by: Laura Roe Stevens

Taking baby steps onto my path, my journey to open up a future living my dreams, can be scary. But what I’ve been learning over the past two and a half years especially, is that as I move forward into my truth to live an authentic life that reflects my soul’s purpose, I meet people on the way who instantly feel like family. It’s a beautiful thing. As a single mom of two, it would be very easy for me to just continue with a traditional job and ensure that I have a safe life. But three years ago, after recovering from my divorce, I still felt as if my soul was sinking, getting buried into a life that wasn’t my own. I wasn’t myself. I longed to trust myself and not continue to do the right thing or be who others might want me to be. I took an intensive yoga teacher training and  reconnected to my inner voice. That voice can get drowned out by the needs of children and the expectations of others. I connected with soulful, supportive friends, like my yoga teacher and was able to find the courage to explore my heart’s desire. Just before that training began in September 2013, I had started writing creatively again. I’ve been a journalist and editor since I was 19 years old…but I stopped writing creatively after my first son was born. I wrote a book in graduate school, then met my husband soon after. And I began living for my son and for my husband— trying to ‘be’ what was expected of me to be the best mom I could, while also bringing in income for the family. The divorce woke me up. It didn’t feel good, but now I see that it was necessary. I had lost my way. My inner voice was silent. I was listening to other’s limited beliefs about who I was or what I could accomplish or the kind of life I should be living.

The past two and a half years have been amazing. Two more intensive yoga trainings later, and after creating a supportive writer’s group with friends who also feel like family, I finished my novel Uriel’s Mask and am half way through my next novel Between Thoughts of You! It’s funny how life works. For me, once I began to take baby steps into my authentic life and really trust the Universe, I began meeting others on similar soul-searching journeys. It’s beautiful. I love the synchronicity. It’s like the Universe saying: “See? I told you you aren’t alone and it’s more fabulous when you step outside of your comfort zone and into your purpose, isn’t it?!”

This week, Tory, of the GingertAle blog sent me a long note that made me cry. She said that my posts felt like words from a guardian angel as she’s now a single mom of a three-year-old and trying to launch a new career. She said she just needed the inspiration to keep on her journey, to not cave to other’s limited viewpoints on what she could accomplish. She sent me this post: “Live Deep and Suck the Marrow Out of Life”. Read it. It’s beautiful. As she takes baby steps into her dreams, while also striving for balance to take the best care she can of her daughter, she’ll discover friends along the way, like angels, to inspire and support her. I know I have.:-) I’m so grateful for them, too.

For instance, last summer I met another writer, Ann Marie Frohoff , who has written three novels and is working on a documentary and another non-fiction project while also a dedicated mom. She lives in my home town! I met her randomly when on a date to a concert. The date and I decided we are better off friends, but I met Ann through one of his friends. I love when these things happen. Just knowing she’s out there writing every day, has been a huge inspiration to me.

Also last summer, while the boys were with their Dad in London & France, I decided to go to Barcelona, (my ex flew me to London with the boys, so it was a short, inexpensive flight!). I found a  roof-top apartment via airbnb that allowed me to have panoramic views of the city and water and even sleep under the stars! Had I listened to anyone who lamented that it isn’t safe for women to travel solo, I wouldn’t have had such an amazing journey. I did yoga every morning, wrote, explored the city. It was hard sometimes being alone, but I was able to take the art tours I wanted and to go up to the mountains of Montserrat. On one museum tour, I met a beautiful soul, who is now one of my best friends. She’s from San Francisco and was traveling solo after a break up. We couldn’t stop chatting and ended up going out to eat, to the beach, on a sailing cruise and then to a support group she had found. She’s coming to visit me this August. We chat quite a lot supporting each other as she is also starting a new career and on a similar spiritual path. Definitely a soul sister.

I’ve been an avid TUT.com fan since the Notes from the Universe first began. Mike Dooley’s notes resonate with me, especially after I had an apprenticeship with a medium and life coach in 2012. So, at the last minute, I decided that I’d take the risk and go to the TUT Peru trip last March. It was a trip that was a little out of my budget, I didn’t know anyone there, but I felt compelled to go. I’m so glad I did! On that trip I met so many soulful and fun friends. Two are visiting me this August as well, while  the boys are with their dad. One is also a yoga teacher and the other is originally from the South and very creative. We just ‘get’ each other.

I’m so grateful for all those on my journey. Some have read chapters of my novels and given me support and guidance that is priceless. I’m not one used to anyone giving to me. I like to give to others, it’s who I am. But I’m realizing that by allowing others on my journey to give to me, I can give back in numerous ways, and hopefully inspire them as well. We all need a little support to confirm we are on the right path, or that all will be OK. It’s scary to climb out on a limb reaching for a dream. But what I’m learning, is that it’s also so very rewarding. The journey means I’m alive. I’m excited. I following my truth and doing exactly what I love, every damn day. I’m writing. I’m teaching or doing yoga. I’m living with the two most important spiritual teachers in my life, my two boys. Sure, I’d love for my books to get published by a mainstream publisher, or the love of my life to finally find me …but you know what? Where I am right now, is so sweet. I’m beyond grateful for this beautiful life and the soulful friends I’m making on this journey.

If you are taking the first few baby steps onto your journey, consider me a friend along the way. If you’re following your heart, your intuition, your purpose—what lights up your soul—you’re on the right path. And you just might discover that the journey is as magical and the destination.:-) I know that’s how I feel.

LOVE & LIGHT XO

 

The Anti-Pity Party

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Sunday F-Me Day. That’s the single mom mantra. That, or: TGIM! (Thank God it’s Monday!). I’m so pooped by Sunday night that I can go to a very dark place if I’m not careful. Yes, I love my kids endlessly. But F Me, it’s been 6 weeks again without a break or a weekend off. I didn’t sign up for this. When I married my husband, an Eagle Scout who had worked for Jimmy Carter at one point, I had NO clue that he’d leave after our 2nd baby was born. I never imagined that he’d choose another life, another person. And when I say leave, I mean leave. He lives in Europe and sees the boys 4 weeks a year. My break 6 weeks ago was due to my thoughtful mother-in-law who came to help. I’m so grateful for her. We’ve had our ups and downs; probably like all daughters & mother-in-laws, but she really understands what I’m going through and is baffled as well. Her son had the opportunity to take a job in San Francisco and even told his boys that he was taking it and would see them more often. He told them San Fran or New York, yay! They got so excited. But then, he didn’t take those jobs. And they haven’t seen him in a long time. His new job is in Amsterdam. Sigh. I can’t control him. I wish he hadn’t said anything to them, but I can’t change that either. So, I’m sad for them, AND lets be honest, I’m sad for me, too.

 

Lets face it. I’m ON 337 days a year without breaks! The 2 afternoons a week I have a sitter, I’m working, so it’s not really a break.. And it’s been 7 YEARS of this. So that’s ON Full-Time with the boys for nearly 2,359 days. It’s exhausting. It taken a toil on my social life, my work productivity, sometimes my sanity and most definitely my love life.

So that’s me having a pity party. Do I have cancer or am dying? NO. Am I homeless? NO. Are my boys the best things that ever happened to me and the best spiritual teachers in my life? YES.

Intellectually I know I’m the luckiest gal in the world. BUT…by Sunday evening, I’m pooped. And I think it has a lot to do with the way my weekends go. I can’t teach or do yoga on weekends because of their soccer schedules. So I’m racing around and not doing things for me. I don’t go out much anymore either, not since I ramped up my yoga teaching and am still writing! Yes, I’m working on my 3rd novel and am ridiculously excited about it, more so than the other two! So life is good, right?

Well, only, and I do mean only, if I take care of myself and get into the right head space.

The old me of three years ago, the pre-yoga, support group and TUT (tut.com) mentality, would whine and complain, and have a pity party. Mostly to myself—but still. It kept my vibration and my outlook bleak. I’m still a work in progress. If I get sick, or my kids do, and I’ve been ON for 5 to 6 weeks straight without help I can spiral again without self care. Two weeks ago I hit a low point again. It happens. I realized that with my 7 weekly classes of yoga I teach, I’m not actually working out much myself. The mucky brain, mild depression or pity party builds slowly, but usually by Sunday, with a little one who doesn’t want to get out much, and isn’t terribly independent, we can both get stuck in a rut. I try to turn inward. How can I love myself more? What can I do to take better care of myself?

Often times that means saying no to someone who is demanding. It’s not a coincidence that I attract people who want or seem to need a lot of my time or want help just to keep afloat. These folks distract me from taking care of myself. It’s a co-dependent side of me that I’m working on. But once I clear the deck and make space for clarity and calm me-time, I have the chance to mentally flip a switch and stop whatever tape is playing in my head, like a record rip in the old days: RRRIIIPPPP! and then I can take a deep breath and figure out what I need.

 

Last Sunday I had a family meeting with my two boys and asked my oldest to babysit every Sunday evening at 6 for a 2 hours so I can go to a friend’s Yin yoga class. That will be my treat after shopping, cooking, schlepping to soccer games all weekend. My oldest wasn’t happy about it at first, but when I explained that I need time for me, that we’re traveling all over California for his soccer games and then he’s out with his friends every weekend night till 9:30/10…there isn’t balance in the household. He needs to give back to me and his little brother who schleps around all weekend for his big brother’s stuff, too. My son was very sweet about it. It’ll give me a break and a little time to breathe. 

I can’t control what my ex does or doesn’t do.

I can’t change the past. I can’t change my situation. But I can change my outlook. I can embrace healthy habits, like a morning workout ritual, meditation, gratitude journals and my new practice of doing ‘That’s Rights’ taught to me by an awesome Andy Dooley in Peru last March. So, life is good. Life can be exhausting. But life is also so very precious. My mom just passed. My oldest will be in college in 3 years. I need to garner perspective.  I spent all weekend with my boys. Soccer games, beach time, biking, pizza, snuggling with movies, library time. And now, I’m off to zen out with lovely yogis who make my soul smile. This isn’t how I envisioned my life to be 10 years ago. Not at all. But maybe, just maybe, it’s better than how I envisioned it. Maybe I’d never have written my 2nd novel? (My 1st was written pre-marriage in grad school.) Maybe I’d never know my strength? Maybe I’d never realize my worth. Maybe I’d still be feeling inadequate and trying to live up to someone else’s expectations? Maybe I’d be hiding my spirituality and my intuitive gifts? Maybe I’d also never have found the courage to go through 4 yoga trainings and teach—after turning 40. Maybe I’d still feel tethered to the good-girl syndrome of trying to make everyone else happy? Hmmm…so many things have changed for the better haven’t they?

So maybe, just maybe, my authentic, conscious life is just beginning. Every Sunday F-Me Day, needs to be re-arranged in my mind as Sunday Fantastic Me Day. ha ha.

Thanks for reading! And if you can relate to my life, promise me you’ll do one thing for yourself today. You deserve it.❤

With Love & Gratitude ~

Laura x  

 

 

What my mother told me after she died.

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That title may alarm some people. But the fact is, our loved ones communicate with us all the time after they die. It’s as simple as one thought away. And it’s the most beautiful aspect of grief and death. So many people are distracted and numb and out of alignment so the idea of magic and eternal love and light isn’t a reality in their every day life. Yet it is. They are just not aware of it. When someone you love dearly dies, for weeks afterwards, you can feel them, dream about them, sometimes even hear their voice. It’s remarkable and it brings so much hope to those who have forgotten that there is life after death. We are spiritual beings having a physical experience. But life drones on. Responsibilities, work, routines can keep us from day dreaming, noticing beauty, magic. Hurts and regrets and pain can compound our vibration so that our hearts are heavy and we can barely muster hope when we see a beautiful sunset. We become out of sync with our divine selves. We are out of the frequency to hear or see the messages our loved ones send us.

When someone dies, however, we are forced to stop everything. We stop our daily routine. We stop work. We focus. We remember. We pray. We become grateful for what this person gave to us. We open up to the magic of life. And in this grateful, open, vulnerable state, we notice, or hear the messages. That is the gift when someone dies.

My mother died May 20th of this year. I flew to North Carolina on the 21st and on the 22nd (a dear friend will love that number, you know who you are!) I saw this double rainbow forming over the highway. I was driving with one of my sisters two hours to her house as she had the best picture of my mother that we all decided must be enlarged and placed at the entrance of her memorial service. So, we drove the two hours to my sister’s house. As we were driving the two hours back to Chapel Hill, this amazing rainbow started forming. Another formed on top. I took a video of it that I can’t upload for some reason…But right after I videoed the rainbow and was still watching it form, my dad called. I am not close with my dad. Well, that’s an understatement. I have forgiven him for the many disrespectful choices and things he did to my mother. I’ve forgiven him for things I still can’t mention, toward me and to my oldest sister, but I keep a boundary up for my own health. Yet I could feel my mother present with us and I could feel her forgiveness. I could feel her urging me and so I answered my sister’s phone and I spoke kindly to my father and even agreed to pick him up from the airport and take him to his hotel. He wanted to come to my mom’s funeral. He likely doesn’t even remember half of what happened during our childhood or even forgot some events with mom later—that’s what is so puzzling and hurtful and insane about alcoholism, and whatever else came into play. But I decided to let it go. He is old. He was sad. And clearly, my mother forgave him years ago.

On May 25th, the day of my mother’s funeral, the minister surprised the family by asking everyone to sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Us four siblings had put together the program and we all agreed upon speaking. I was the one who spoke about the power of music, as my mom played piano  by ear and communicated through music. I even provided her top song list as I kept it after we moved her into an Alzheimer’s facility. Somewhere Over the Rainbow wasn’t on it, nor was it mentioned. Perhaps one of my sisters suddenly asked the minister to add this? I don’t know. But my oldest sister and I began crying as we remembered the rainbow forming in the car just a few days earlier. It wasn’t a coincidence. Mom was telling us everything would be ok. Listen to the lyrics. My two sisters aren’t physically well. They both have autoimmune disorders and serious stress and I wish so much I could take away their pain. My big brother even admitted to losing his faith in God after my mom developed early-onset Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t fair. She was a social worker with a huge, kind heart, and helped so many without ever asking for anything in return. He felt it was cruel. It was hard on him to see her, and he lived so close to her facility. It was hard on all of us to lose her. My mom was sending us all a message of hope. To not harden or become cynical in life. To stay aware of the magic that is subtle, but always there.

That evening, as I was coming home to my brother’s house, after walking around with my childhood best friend, we saw this little lime green frog on my brother’s door.

friendfrog

Frogs like this just don’t appear on doors in North Carolina. I know a lot about frogs. As a little girl I collected them. In fact, I would sit by a pond in the woods surrounding the horse trails and watch for hours waiting for the tadpoles to finally leap out of the water onto the Earth as precious little frogs. I’d put them in containers and take care of them until they were big enough (or so I thought) to ward off predators. Some kids had imaginary friends, I had friend frogs. Neighbors would capture rare red ones or orange ones and bring them to me for my collection. Yup, I was that kind of kid. To this day, my siblings still buy me frog paraphernalia for birthday or Christmas gifts. So to see this frog on the evening of my mom’s funeral was just a little reminder that I was loved, watched after, and was special. I was teased a lot as a child for being stupid. Not by my mom, but by my dad and siblings. I barely spoke until I was 11 and daydreamed constantly. I guess you could say I have always been partly in another dimension or watching for what was happening underneath the surface. I could sit outside watching birds fight for territory for hours. I would get mesmerized by the way light sparkles on dust particles. Listening to the wind through the pines I’d imagine someone whispering to me. Inside the house, I sometimes wrote invisible words or names on the ceiling and imagined them dancing or fighting over me. When sitting at the table for dinner, I paid attention to how words were spoken and whether a person’s eyes were sad or angry, or whether arms were crossed—and often didn’t hear or listen to what was actually being said.

Mom was telling me that was my gift. That’s why I can still hear her. For weeks she’s come to me in my dreams. I see her in her garden. I see her playing her piano. Talking with me about boys in her blue kitchen. One dream was funny, with her and her friends laughing over her fridge magnet of Nixon with the words: “Thank God he kept our boys out of Northern Ireland.” She was suggesting a similar one about Trump. It was funny. She was engaging. I loved talking politics with her. When I became a journalist, I had ground my day dreaming wire, but I still watched body language, especially when covering murder trials or interviewing politicians. I’m glad I’m not in that world anymore, but I remember how much fun it was to talk with my mom about it all.

My dreams showed me her quirky side before her mind was ravaged by Alzheimer’s or before she was stressed and heart broken. And I could feel that she’s returned to her quirky, beautiful, poetic, funny, musical self.

Over the past two months, through signs and messages and songs and dreams, these are the things she has told me:

There is no way to sum up the entire life of another person with a quick comment, so don’t read gossip crappy news or watch any of it. Don’t participate in judgmental gossip.

Strive to be happy now, with your life exactly as it is.

Forgive everyone. We have to let go of our judgements against others based on one or two things that they may have done. That doesn’t mean we become door mats and let in every person who hurts us over and over again—but let go of resentment.

You are enough, exactly as you are.

You are special.

You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone.

Those who hurt us the most are expressing their own internal pain. They are bleeding inside from issues and scars we may know nothing about it. So ignore whatever hurtful words they say to you.

Follow your heart.

Get out in nature every day if possible.

Don’t Let In anyone go who is negative or who stirs up drama in any way.

Have fun. Be silly. Laugh more. Let the dishes stay in the sink every now and then.

Don’t try to fit in. Be nice and polite when needed, but show your true feelings whenever you can.

Take risks. True love exists for every person at any age.

Stay true to yourself.

Take care of yourself: your body is your temple.

You are deserving—remember that, but don’t forget to give back.

Be grateful.

Be humble.

Own up to your mistakes, but don’t punish yourself for them.

If you’re ever on an ego trip, pause and give to someone else.

If you give too much of yourself or try to control others, step back and allow others the dignity to make their own mistakes and choices.

Trust your gut, not your ego.

Don’t worry so much about pleasing others. Please yourself and be yourself and those who float into your life will be divinely orchestrated to be with you.

~ Thanks for reading this long post! My wish is that it brings a little ray of hope into your day.

Make it a beautiful one.

Laura XO

 

Finding Comfort Outsize the Zone

WandMomNice

Photo: June 2008, Nice, France

When I was 15 I convinced my father to let me travel throughout Europe for an entire summer. Russia, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, England and Ireland. I had been to London when I was 11, as my dad had taken a temporary academic position there, and that’s probably what got me interested in traveling more. But I’m still amazed that I had the curiosity and drive to pursue that European tour and convince my father to pay for me do it at such a young age! It meant that I had to leave all my friends, my serious boyfriend and my family in North Carolina during my sweet 16 summer.  None of my friends had traveled internationally. No one was encouraging me. I just saw a random ad about a high school student program that allowed kids to travel together around the world to promote peace and understanding. Not one teacher suggested it. I think I just stumbled upon the ad on a bulletin board and thought ‘Yeah, I’m doing this.’ Amazing. This was pre-cell phone days too, people. No Facebook either.

I was talking with my oldest son tonight as he has friends here in California who don’t know the difference between a city and a country or a country and a continent. One friend thought London was a city within France and wasn’t sure where Paris was…My son didn’t understand how a kid who makes good grades would be so unaware. I had to remind him that he was unique. Since his father lives in Europe and we, as a family, used to live in London, this 14-year-old has traveled throughout the UK, France, Spain, Italy, Japan, Austria and Switzerland. He’s a lucky and smart kid. And he doesn’t always see eye to eye with his So Cal friends. So I reminded him that they likely haven’t had the opportunity to travel. But then I thought about my junior year in high school. Why did I want to go abroad? I had a boyfriend who loved me—and that I’d have to leave for an entire summer— an eternity for teenagers! Plus, my friends weren’t particularly interested in traveling past the North Carolina coastline. I really don’t know why I wanted to jump outside of my comfort zone. But I did have access, at an early age, to meeting people from all over the world.  My mother’s and father’s friends and colleagues from the academic world talked about their travels. I had exposure to people from differing backgrounds. My dad’s colleagues in his department at Duke University were from all over the world. Having them over for dinner was fascinating. I recall the time a Chinese couple came to visit who spoke no English. It was eye opening. And I realized, at an early age, that travel equaled excitement. You never knew who you might meet. And the other thing I realized was that there are more kind people who are similar to me, (despite speaking another language) than there are those who want to hurt me in this world. It’s liberating to know this. It frees a woman to consider traveling alone and not being marred in fear. My parents, by virtue of their occupations, taught me that. It lessened my fear. My trip when I was 16 opened my eyes, even more than my trip to the UK when I was 11.

 

There are so many reasons why, but I’ll give you one example. I met a sweet couple in Russia who were so poor they couldn’t afford to go on a honeymoon after their wedding. The bride, who worked at the hotel where we stayed in Leningrad, talked with me every night for a week. She was only 3 years older than me. I gave her make up and stockings and even did her hair. I don’t remember her name, but I know that I helped her feel beautiful on the week she was married. Her gratitude and tears made me feel so much love I thought I would burst. It was infectious. Wherever I went that summer, I met other kids with similar hearts and desires and quirky senses of humor. Friends from Denmark, England and Ireland visited me for years afterwards.

 

Why am I writing this today? Well, I’m thinking about so many things. The terrorist attack in Nice and my last trip there eight years ago while pregnant with my youngest. William was only six years old and had already traveled more than most Americans. That trip was wonderful. I was pregnant with hope and love and possibility for our growing family. Yet I stepped outside my comfort zone even there. Going to markets alone with William and trying to speak the language. (Yet, discovering the real language was always one of love.) People would smile as I let William smell lavender or rosemary or explained what mussels were or let him try particular cheeses. I loved those markets. I loved the mountain town of Eze above Nice. I loved the love I felt there and felt within. Travel is like that. We see those who we think we have nothing in common with, only to realize that we have everything in common with. It’s so simple and so true. Love is alive and well and always will be.

 

So tonight I’m thinking about how I’ve always stepped outside of my comfort zone from an early age and it’s not easy to do and doesn’t really get any easier. People will tell you to still travel or embrace adventure and new things, but getting out of your head and fear is hard. For me, I just force myself into it and then since I’m so polite, I feel compelled to follow through. Which is hilarious. But, the over-thinking about what scares me is what drives me crazy. I typically decide to do it (whatever: travel, new adventure), force myself into it an then steep in the fear until the day I leave. It’s like when I signed up to be a camp counselor teaching canoeing, and then had to learn how to canoe! It’s so me. It was terrifying until I took that first lesson, or watched others do it and then entered into the adventure.

It’s the part in the mind that’s the hardest to overcome. So I just sort of jump and then say ‘oh shit’ and hustle to figure it out later. I’m not sure if it’s a great strategy for all aspects of life—but if you’re worried you’ll never leap into an adventure, it forces your hand! I’ve done this so many times…tomorrow at a huge surf party in San Onofre, will be another.

I step outside of my comfort zone all the time here in Southern California trying to make an effort, or trying to be social, or trying to take a chance on love, or trying to fit into this surf / volleyball / beach culture that I didn’t grow up in.

I just have to remember that whether I’m here on the beach with surfers feeling judged by how I look in a bikini—or whether I’m in a bistro in Europe feeling judged for not being able to speak 3 languages or not being as up-to-date on international politics as the others at the table—it’s all the same feeling. It’s a fear of being judged. It’s a fear of not being enough. It’s a fear of not fitting in.

When I step outside of ‘trying’ to fit in and just embrace wherever I am as a new adventure, I remember that we all have hearts that beat and pulse blood in the same manner. We have the same desires deep down. There is no reason ‘to try.’ I will be present and I will be me and I will listen to others and smile. That’s when the magic happens. I won’t try to pretend that I’m anyone other than who I am. When I just connect with others I realize that’s what we are here for. That is what matters. That’s where the magic is. We are all so similar. I see me in you and you in me. Even the parts I don’t want to see…Especially those parts.

Today I am open to all that is possible. I can’t stop the pain and the sorrow from all the chaos in the world today. The fear from these events can cause me to crumble if I let it. Instead, I choose to embrace light and health and exploring new friendships, while still saying a prayer for those in need and in sorrow.

 

 

 

He Left You, Don’t Abandon You, Too

 

This post is for the single mom who wrote to me privately after reading my post Being Worth The Effort. Our dialogue broke my heart. When you wrote: “I’ll never feel worthy of a man’s love,” I could tell that your mind was made up. There was nothing I could say to reach into that depth of pain and change your mind. Platitudes don’t work.

The pain that a woman feels after being cheated on and abandoned with little children to take care of is unbearable. It sinks deep into your bones. And it’s very hard to come out from this feeling positive and trusting and hopeful—or worthy of a good life. But it is possible. And you’re on the right track. I know because you are feeling it. The women who run from it, point fingers, blame, drink a lot, date a lot, are masking the pain. And there’s no shame. We all do what we can to survive. You are going to get through this.

I don’t have all the answers. I know what worked, and didn’t work,  for me. And I want to share this as the club we are in, the full-time single mom’s club, is one that no one should comment on unless they have membership. To say our lives are hard, is an understatement. To say our lives have more meaning than most is also an understatement. To that end, I focus. I am the rock for my kids. I, like you, am the one who cooks, cleans, shuffles back and forth to school & practices and who has very little social life because of a lack of support. We are the ones going solo to games, celebrations, helping with homework, staying up all night when they are sick. We have no weekends off, unless there is help from family. Sometimes family isn’t always uplifting help either. We are bombarded with guilt and exhaustion and loneliness.

But please promise me that you will never, EVER, say you are not worthy of a man’s love again. What your husband said to you as he was leaving shows his level of consciousness. Shame on him. Don’t let what he did—or what he said to justify what he did—eat away at your soul. It’s easier said then done. I know. This is also a club whose membership is one that few want admittance to. But it’s our journey. And when you come out on the other side, I hope you’ll feel as lucky and as hopeful as I do today.

With that said, I know how painful it is, especially with really little children. I get it. You are tired. You are lonely. But you are also so very special and strong. Your children love you endlessly. They are safe because of you. They see the world with love and peace because of you. Their father, if he shows back up in any way, will still be the one who gave them up, who left, who put another woman or selfish needs above them. YOU, are showing them that they are more important than anything in this Universe. Is there anything more precious than that?

Intellectually you get that, I know. But when you’re in the trenches and exhausted and sleep deprived, it’s hard for the message to sink in. Just keep going. Your children are babies. It’s hard to garner a really good perspective when feeling alone, abandoned and exhausted. I so remember those days. I don’t like to think about them anymore. But I will share them for YOU. I will share them because 7 years ago I was where you are now and am in such a better place today. I, too, had nights when I was up and down with a baby alone. I recall sobbing into my pillow while breastfeeding and praying my older child wouldn’t hear. I had no idea how I would make it. Who to trust. When my ex left he said horrible things to me, like I wasn’t enough. When he left, we had an 8 month old and a devastated 7 year old. The things he called me to justify what he did, aren’t suitable for this forum. But they ate at my soul. Between exhaustion, depression and little sleep, after a year, I nearly broke down. I began having panic attacks. I fell down on a city street with the baby in a bjorn. No one helped me up. I remember seeing stars on the walk home and thinking how badly I wanted to call my mom, then riddled with Alzheimer’s. I had never felt more alone. I didn’t want to ask for help or tell anyone, because I feared it would sound like I was having a pity party.

When I went back to work, my baby, now 2, kept getting sick, three emergency room visits within a year. (I found out later it was due to toxic mold in our house.) I was at my wits end. I was up all night. My first boyfriend post separation was jealous of my time with the kids and with work and the pressure nearly killed me. He urged me to quit my job due to my stress and health, but was overly involved and threatening about it, suggesting he might even cheat from lack of seeing me. It triggered my need not to let things fall apart. The needless guilt I carried over for not ‘being enough’ for my husband was projected onto this man unconsciously, and I put him first and resigned from a job. I wasn’t stable due to the lack of sleep and from not taking enough time to heal before I started dating. I lost friends because of it. I apologized, but the damage was done. In the end, people who haven’t experienced this sort of trauma, and it is a kind of trauma, just can’t understand. Keep your head up and don’t try to make people understand. Here is a list of things that I feel strongly about, that helped me. Hopefully these will help you on this journey too:

  • Fake it till you make it.
  • Tell yourself your life is great when you wake up. Seriously, do it. “Thank you for an amazing life. Thank you for another day. Thank you for my babies. Thank you for this bed, this apartment”…these are what I used to say.
  • Smile every time you leave your house. Make it look easy until you start to feel like it is easy. People will wonder what your secret is. Let them. Don’t let them know you cried yourself to sleep. Don’t be ashamed of it, but just know you are moving forward. Smile like a Cheshire cat with a secret, because you DO have one. Your life is going to be great and on your terms, very soon.
  • Trust in the Universe. I know, it’s hard, but try it anyway.You have a journey and an important reason for being here. You are divine, eternal. Trust you will be OK.
  • Be patient with your kids and remember they are gifts from God. Count to 10 if they tantrum. Mine had colic. Put him in a swing or crib and take 10 deep breaths before coming back. This, too, shall pass.
  • Tell your children they are special. Tell them you love them, every, damn day.
  • Tell people how wonderful your children are, even on days when they have tantrums.
  • Write in a journal the funny things they do or say so you can give them to them when they are older.
  • Take a lot of pictures of the kids smiling, of you and the kids smiling.
  • Every time you smile, remember your smile is an awesome achievement! Your ex can’t take away your right to be happy. Wear your smile proudly.
  • Write in a gratitude journal every night, even if you only write: ‘I am grateful I ate dinner.’ It’ll snowball until you are bursting with gratitude.
  • Find a way to exercise and get out of your head. Even if you take the stairs at work, or buy an exercise video and do it in the morning or night. Maybe put the little ones in a stroller and run in the morning. Find a way to get endorphins flowing.
  • Swap babysitting with a friend.
  • Join a library and join a free reading group for the kids or for you! If they have a career group with your library, or speakers go, it’s free!
  • Start exploring every thing you liked to do before you had kids. Make a list and a dream board.
  •  Join a Meetup group for meditation or hiking or picnics with other single parents.
  • Join support groups, but limit your time in ones where parents are bashing their exes or wallowing in their stories without figuring out ways to improve their lives. You’ll get lost in their stories and their fear may linger into your day.
  • Don’t bash your ex EVER in front of the kids.
  • Avoid going out with friends who drink too much or talk smack about their exes in front of your kids.
  • Begin your own traditions. Kids love them.
  • Be super selective when you start to date. Avoid men who insinuate your children are in the way. Break it off with anyone who belittles you or drinks and is obnoxious in front of your children. Your children will ONLY see people being respectful to you from now on.
  • Find a spiritual practice. Whether it is  yoga (I know that’s expensive, but check out cheap online yoga or DVDs!), church, meditation, a positive therapy support group, etc. Find a way to surround yourself with messaging that you are enough.
  • Don’t tell your story to everyone. Many people won’t understand or will freak out about it. It’s human nature to want to point fingers, to find reasons to explain something. She must have done something. Or she wasn’t a good wife, etc. because then it assures them that they will never have to go through anything similar. I tried to talk with a friend who asked about my situation and she kept saying things like, “You must have had a clue you were in a bad marriage” or “There must have been signs that he wasn’t happy.” That conversation poured salt into my wounds and no, I hadn’t a clue and we were happier than most of our married friends. Go figure. So, be very careful who you talk with as the ‘talk’ may end up making you miserable. You don’t need it.
  • Remember, sometimes shit happens and it’s not a reflection on you. YOU are NOT to blame for your husband’s infidelity. AT ALL.You are both on your own journeys. You are worthy of love and of having a faithful husband. We can’t control what other people do, but we can control how we respond to them. Remind yourself of this during the divorce process as it gets worse sometimes before it gets better.
  • Get a weekly game plan. By Sunday you will be so exhausted you might cry when watching cartoons. How can you get a break? Is there a daycare at a church? Even if you sleep while they are in daycare an hour, it’s worth it! Do you have a supportive bff who could watch the kids for an hour while you sleep?
  • As you start to heal and find moments of happiness, strength and health, don’t get discouraged if some of your friends aren’t supportive or happy for you. It reflects their consciousness, fears or that they are stuck in the victim role. Some want to be miserable with others. Some want to have complaining buddies. Don’t go there. Just drift and say a prayer or light a candle for them. We ALL deserve to be happy, healthy and at peace.
  • Post the word RESPECT in all caps on your bathroom mirror. You have been through a lot. Respect yourself. Not many can do what you do with as much grace and love. I’ve seen CEOs & olympic athletes fall apart when their kids have tantrums. What you do is HARD.
  • It will get better. Life will become easier. Believe that.
  • The love and patience you show your children, will come back to you.
  • Your children will never, ever forget what you do for them. They are worth it and you are worth it.
  • No man will ever bring you happiness and a feeling of worth. Not completely. And That’s OK. Be happy anyway.
  • Breathe deeply every day and know you are getting closer to your best life, your best self.

 

 

With much Love & RESPECT,

Laura xo

Setting Intentions & Filling Our Glass

Ice_cold_water

I’m sharing this post by Hope Koppelman, creative director and editor at TUT. I love this article as it reminds me that I am in control. I can make space for that daily morning routine. And if I choose to stay up late and write, or if my youngest wakes me up in the middle of the night and I sleep in, I can always start again. Intentions are so powerful. And what’s even more powerful are the baby steps one takes to ensure that intentions become a reality. That’s what I love about Hope’s article. For instance, Hope writes: “If your goal is to start running, set the space by choosing your running clothes the night before, schedule the exact time you plan to run each day, plan your route, plan your distance, plan your playlist.”

 

For those of you who are not great planners, it is never too late to begin. We are never stuck. Every day we can wake up and live intentionally with the goal of making space for what we love, want, dream, etc. Happiness expert and Harvard professor Shawn Achor told Oprah in a recent Super Soul Sunday interview (I’m paraphrasing) that joy comes while striving to reach our highest potential. Happiness doesn’t come from reaching a destination, but rather during the journey and by living mindfully and with purpose and intention. Achor told Oprah that it doesn’t matter whether your glass is half empty or half full because there is a pitcher of water right next to it. Life is the pitcher and we can look for ways to fill up our glass. Setting intentions and planning the baby steps to make them come true is how to fill our glass.

This article by Hope re-enforces that. I choose to be happy now. I choose to focus on what brings me joy and brings me closer to my life’s purpose. I choose to appreciate and be with those who bring meaning and laughter into my life. Isn’t this what it’s all about? But sometimes we need to make space for it all, so we don’t spin out of control with too many distracting demands. And if you find yourself spinning and not making space for what’s important to you, take a moment to assess. Do you need to set boundaries and put yourself on your To-Do list?

Read Hope’s article. It’ll inspire you.:

Here’s to a beautiful week filled with baby steps leading you on a fun journey.

Laura x

Locked & Loaded in Need of Reform

kid-reaching-for-gun

This independence day had me questioning, once again, whether we are truly better off as a nation since garnering independence from Britain. I’ve lived in England, and as a parent, must say how refreshing it was not to have to worry about guns. There was no need to call parents before play-dates and ask if the guns were locked in a safe. (My fellow southern moms know what that’s like.) And there was no worry that schools will get shut down as an armed teenage gunman seeks bloody vengeance. Living through a school shooting as a teen has given me an appreciation for just how insane our country is to allow easy access to guns for mentally unstable teens or adults for that matter.

So who is to blame when parents allow children access to loaded guns? And, at what point should our government get involved? Do we lock up parents who don’t lock up their guns? Do we give jail time to the parent who takes a child to shooting range when someone is killed? Do we need better legislation such as age restrictions at shooting ranges?

Yesterday I cried while reading this story about a Florida father who accidentally killed his 14-year-old son at a shooting range. After the video within this story, I saw another video about a child who never got over accidentally killing his baby sister when playing with his father’s loaded gun. Can you imagine? And then there is the horrific story of a nine-year-old girl who accidentally shot and killed her gun instructor with an uzi while taking lessons at a gun range. Nicole Flatow’s article  The Tragic Insanity of Gun Ranges points out that there are no age restrictions at gun ranges and, sadly, no checks are in place to rent guns at ranges. WTF?

“They don’t have to pass a criminal background check. There’s no check of their mental health records, although some require individuals to attest to their mental competence. Many gun ranges don’t even collect names or identification. And that’s not even the worst part,” Flatow reported.

Because gun renters aren’t “in possession” of the fire arms, they are only renting them, no background checks are legally required or allowed. Which explains why one mentally unstable mom in Florida shot her son and herself at a range in 2009.

No charges were filed in any of the deaths that I described. Maybe we should reconsider this? Should it be legal, for instance, to give a nine-year-old an uzi? Is it legal to allow children access to loaded guns within the house? If a death occurs, shouldn’t the parent, the person the gun is licensed to, carry some blame, almost like an accomplice? Shouldn’t their gun license, in the very least, be revoked and some jail time or public service be demanded? Just how are we trying to stop these events from continuing?

Seriously, how many accidental shootings do we need to hear about before making viable gun legislation? Is the NRA that powerful? Surely no one would argue that the 2nd amendment was created to give irresponsible parents the right to give children and teens access to loaded guns? I think not. And should children be allowed to go into shooting ranges? Do they really need to know how to shoot uzis or automatic riffles? For peat sake.

I am sick to death of gun deaths. Over July 4th weekend, shootings occurred in every state, with at least 64 shootings and 10 deaths in Chicago alone.

I found this site called Gun Violence Archive, a non profit organization providing public information about gun violence in America. As of June 18th, there has been nearly 27,000 ‘incidents’. Out of that, 1,500 teens have been killed, 302 children and 1,143 ‘accidental’ shootings. There have been nearly 7,000 deaths by guns and more than 14,324 injuries by shootings. And it’s only July. As the heat soars, experts say shootings increase.  According to TheTrace.org in the summer of 2015, 4,080 people were killed by guns, and more than 9,000 Americans were wounded in shootings. The article Just Another Bloody Summer is eye-opening. Sadly, MomsRising.org calculated that 2,500 children die each year in America from gun shootings.

 

I’m tired of it. I’m almost ready to go back to England. Moms out there, does it bother you too? Are you as disgusted as I am? Most of us moms aren’t hunters or as big of gun enthusiasts as our men out there, but we can vote. We can pressure congress for gun legislation. MomsRising.org is a group vying for rights for families and is behind gun legislation reform. Go to their GunSafety Page to sign up and join their petitions to congress to create affective gun safety laws, such as criminal background checks for all gun purchases.

Lets, for once, put children first in #merica. Do you agree?

Sick and tired today,

Laura