FADE IN: two women sit facing the ocean.
It was 5 days of hell. You don’t even know. And we’re not even completely out of it yet. I can never tell anyone what we’ve done. I mean, this is unorthodox in America. Oh, it kills me. We’ve had to endure this alone, not even my mother wanted a part of it. Listening to him ugly cry for up to 40 minutes before we could intervene – it sounds like I’m torturing my child, but believe me there’s a method to the madness. Five days and then he finally slept through the night. I wanted to run in and stop this, smother him with all my love, but that would push us back to square one. I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing. I blamed that Nazi sleep trainer every day. But I did what she asked. God, she’s tough.
She had to be or you wouldn’t get through it.
I think she’s Argentinian but she has a German accent, I swear she does. She was relentless and so unempathetic. But her methods worked. Five days and now he sleeps 12 hours straight.
And how’s he doing?
Great! So much better. He’s so happy now and energized when he’s awake.
He was so cranky at first —
— Yeah, that’s cuz he wasn’t sleeping. We both weren’t.
He’s a trouper.
You know, this experience has shaken me. If it took him 5 days to completely rearrange a structure that was in place since birth; five days to change his life and he did it? Imagine what we’re capable of. If we only just commit. This little boy is an example that there really is no excuses.
Yup. Can you sleep through the night?
Not yet. I’m still worried I’ve done something wrong. I hope that changes..
It’s the closest thing I’ve felt to death.
5 days of labor and pushing and pain and sweat and utter exhaustion.
Hours of almost readiness, a champ in the ring, waiting for her trophy.
And he arrives, at a perfect Godly time with absolute intention.
He comes uncracked, unwrinkled; life hasn’t stamped her good ol’ reality check on his skin. Not yet.
Why do we cry? How does it crack our hearts wide open?
We’ve all traveled this channel too. We have got to be as perfect, as divine, as uncracked?
Somewhere underneath. Right?
Clouds hiding the sun, type of shit. Right?
A son. A nephew. A gift.
Short denim jeans.
Orange hair growing out from a collision of blonde shades.
Black socks squeezed into matching flip flops.
Old rollie. Used and reused.
Sweet, classic Cali teenager.
Thirteen? 14? 16? No more than that.
She looks nervous, diverts her eyes.
“Can I share the table with you?” I ask.
Thumb in mouth ripping at skin, she nods with eyes drawn away.
Staring off in the distance…
Continue reading “cali teen”
We had this romantic story in our minds that we’ll adopt a shelter dog, save him from death or some other trauma; that he’ll come into our home and “behave” and love us instantly.
We thought, “What one dog gets the worst rap? Pit bulls? Ok, let’s do that.”
We were naive.
We were young and wild and free.
And now here we are.
I really didn’t know what I was getting into.
Sure, my heart melts at the thought of any dog getting euthanized but my heart was put to the test this time. We got him.
This is my life now.
Things have changed.
Continue reading “hard + deep”
Daylight Savings, 6:40am
Rounding, meditation, bed made, teeth pulling, tea brewing — feels so good to be getting ready for the day early.
Daylight savings is a great way to start a habit and kill another one.
One of the dark ones.
There’s a magic to the early hour, there’s an air of creativity and divinity.
You feel like you’re sitting with the Masters as they paint, write, read, sculpt, swim, clean, tone, prepare.
What do the Masters do?
They fail and then fail better.
They keep at it; tweaking, refining, questioning, moving forward.
I hear a baby play in the apartment next to me.
The sweet vocal explorations in baby Ari.
Little Ari who intently, clumsily, lurches toward a goal and topples over.
Again and again. Baby steps are the royal road to skill, he teaches us from the other room.
Continue reading “Ari”