Seeing Impermanence in Action...

My son turned 14 years old today. Birthday's are milestones we (as humans) set up in order to quantitatively measure age. And although I don't take much stock in human systems, I feel time slipping away as he grows older. My daughter is already eighteen years old. And now my son is fourteen. And it's cliche' to say it was just yesterday that I held my children in my arms, and danced with them across the floor as I nestled their small bodies against my chest. Days of Santa Claus, Easter Bunnies, and hunting for fairies in Luray Caverns are long gone. Games of hide and seek, and tickle-fests, and rides in a red wagon hunting for little gravel rocks to collect as "ammo" are obsolete.

The modern version of my son glides on skateboards, and leaps high on a BMX bike which he is way too tall for.  I'm 5'8" and he towers above me. Towers over his father. And my son loves every minute of it. And instead of little gravel rocks, my boy plays with air-soft guns and games online with others in "Modern Warfare."

He texts girls on his cellphone. Often. After they text him.

My son's pants always seem too short no matter how many new pairs we buy him. The bottom of the legs ride up beyond his ankles, and I wonder how many of his friend's parents have looked at him, and his pants, and said, "Can't his mother afford to buy him new clothes?" Which, at the rate he is growing...no I can't.

I never knew motherhood could be so complex. The feelings, the worries, the number of things in the world a parent has to constantly keep up with...  I never knew it could be so joyful, and so (ultimately) rewarding. And it's odd, because I stare at this young man in my house, and still get flashes of the time he jumped off the diving board when he was five, and could barely swim, and landed with a solid belly flop only to come up sputtering and ask to do it again. And those flashes cause an odd mix of pleasure and pain like that little jolt of electricity that bites you when you accidentally get shocked from an errant wall socket. Part of you wants to move on and not do it again, but another part of you wants to try it just one more time...

And as my son sleeps this morning, (probably until noon because he more than likely stayed up until two A.M. playing "Modern Warfare" with his friends), I can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring? Will he stay healthy? Will he grow much taller? What will he decide to become in the future? And when will he bring his first girlfriend (or boyfriend) home to meet me?

Oh, I know worrying about the future is as useless as wishing I could change the past, but I wonder more than I worry. I wonder, and I pray with all the energy I have that each day for him is a better one, and that his mistakes are few but result in a developing awareness and kind understanding toward himself. I pray that my son learns something useful each moment he treads the path of life, and that he values humanity, love and the joy of giving.  There are so many things I wish for him. So much I would give if I could, but the greatest gift of all that I can hand to him is that of gently guiding him to the person he was meant to be. A person who I am sure will make a difference in this world, and a good one at that.

A Visit to Scary Dairy...

Scary Dairy

            Scary Dairy is located near University Drive in Camarillo, California, near the California State University of Channel Islands.  It’s in an odd hilly region near the ocean and close to Point Mugu Navy Base, and surrounded by some agricultural fields on one side. There are no main buildings in sight, and the area is devoid of anything that appears urban.
            The place is located near what was once the Camarillo State Hospital, a mental institution and it was supposedly a dairy farm and/or a slaughter house. After the place burned down a few years ago, it was renamed “Scary Dairy” by the locals. It’s rumored that a number of murders occurred on the grounds, but now it seems to be more like a place for University plebes and graffiti artists to hang out.

            I traveled there Saturday morning (September 17th) with my daughter. It was my second attempt to find the place. Luckily, on our first pass near the main University road, there was a gate that was open which I hadn’t noticed before.  We turned down the dirt road, and passed a group of people flying model planes and helicopters at the Model Airplane Landing Strip, then rounded a bend of trees, and there stood a dilapidated barn and a low white structure just beyond that.

            It probably didn’t help that we visited during daylight hours, although the sky was gray and overcast, but the place didn’t seem very scary. It had more of an artistic feel to it.  The falling, rotting barn was missing several metal panels, but on almost every bit of wood and aluminum sheeting still attached to the frame, there were a number of interesting pieces of graffiti artwork.

            When we traveled into the main building, large holes in the walls and burnt wooden beams above made the place just a bit eerie. There were concrete troughs, such as those that might have been used for feeding cattle. I imagine if I’d been out there alone at night I might have found the experience quite unsettling, but my daughter and I took pictures and talked with a photographer that was there taking shots of the building. It was obvious from some of the artwork that local fraternities and sororities used this place occasionally, but as I looked out on the strangely vacant hills that surrounded the structure I could only imagine what types of nefarious activities might have once occurred here. I've added some pics below for you to get a feel of the place.

“The purpose of learning is growth, and our minds, unlike our bodies,

can continue growing as long as we live.”

~Mortimer J. Adler

Well, Adler obviously didn't know me.  My body continues to grow.  Sometimes out, and sometimes in ink.  

Yesterday was my daughter's 18th birthday and together we went to get Mom and Daughter ink at "High Class Tattoo" (A little shop just above the Biker Bail Bonds suite). We even prayed over the ink before the artists began!

Kira's tattoo took just under two hours, and mine took a little over two, or one "G.I. Jane" flick, from beginning to end. What a great day!

"One of the greatest things about the sport of surfing is that you need only three things:

your body, a surf-board, and a wave."

~Naima Green

This past weekend was precious. My son, for a change, didn't have the plethora of friends over to visit and "game" on the PS3. In his lonliness, and perhaps (I hope) in his desire to spend time with "Mom", he joined me in surfing. It was the BEST weekend for catching waves. A southern swell was coming through, and the gusty winds of summer had fizzled down to a gentle breeze. The water was clear and glassy, and the waves were perfect for medium sized boards and folks who just wanted to play and have fun.

My son, true to his word, got up out of bed before his normal noon rise and climbed into the van with me to head out to Mondos. The beach was packed with early-bird surfers, and vacationing families, and finding a place to park was challenging. We pulled the van up to a spot, a quarter mile from the rocky coastal entrance, and got out to pull on our wetsuits. Sean's summer growth meant he was tall and lean, so his wetsuit fit around him but the ankle portion which once came down to his feet, now rose high above his ankles...a funny sight to see. And bittersweet.

We grabbed our boards, and hiked to the sand, and in moments we were paddling out to the curling water.  There was a time when paddling was difficult for him, and when the sight of a four foot wave coming towards him made him feel anxious. No more. This time he paddled past me, flashing by like a dolphin, and we pushed past the breakers where the waves pounded and foamed to the stillness of the sea.  We waited a few minutes, our eyes on the horizon, then the sets started coming. Taking time to choose the best of the oncoming water, we spun our boards towards shore paddling like maniacs and enjoyed the feel of the ocean lifting us, carrying us, side by side. So many waves!  We rode together and fell together and tumbled in the swirl of Mother Natures fluids. Laughing, snorting saltwater, tangled in seaweed, or hanging on for dear life as the white water thundered and took us towards shore, we LIVED life those hours. Present moment.

Near noon, cold and hungry, we returned to the van and rinsed off with the jug of warm water I'd brought. Afternoons were lazy as I read and did homework while he 'gamed' on the Internet, and then near dusk we went to the park and skateboarded. I'd just bought a "Kahuna board", a long skateboard where the rider pushes with a stick to keep momentum, and he taught me the nuances of skateboarding with it. Over a mile we skated, Saturday and Sunday, and the evening return to home was filled with rock music and 'cruising' down the street with windows open and music pumping base so hard the doors shuddered. I was a kid again...a big kid with my son.

I've made a deliberate imprint of this memory on my brain. This precious time before other girls take over his life. This time of laughter, and gangly innocence. The weekend is over, but I will remember that he enjoyed the company of his aging Mom, enjoyed sharing the water, and teaching me to roll over concrete as easily as we surfed waves. I will remember we laughed. Oh, how we laughed. And played. And together, we were young.

"Change is inevitable...

...except from a vending machine."

~Robert C. Gallagher

There was a time when my children were so little. Their young faces looked up at me with trust, and love, and I was the all knowing, magical mother who could do anything. My wise words were gospel, and my children clung to me each day like sailors clinging to a ship in a storm.

Now, I have an 'almost 18' year old daughter, and a 13 year old son. My daughter literally looks me in the eye and speaks to me like an equal, and this year my son has grown so tall he now looks down at me and debates issues with me. When did THIS happen?

Wasn't it only yesterday that my daughter lost her binky, and I searched (frantically) to find it while she cried inconsolable tears? Wasn't it only yesterday that my son drank warm milk from my breast, and snuggled into my chest to be safe and warm? Only a parent can be keenly aware of the impermanence of all things by watching their children grow. Its a fact that all things change, and the reality of it strikes the heart of every parent that sees their child each and every day, and notices something that day is different.

Today, I took my son surfing. He's not really gaga about going into the cold ocean, but he went today so he could be with me. He warmed my heart, taking time out from his video games to come and play with me. The Pacific ocean, on the other hand, is a cruel maternal expanse that never seems to warm no matter how bright the sun shines. Her waters are a shivering bath for any human who flocks to her shores.  If it weren't for wet-suits, I surely wouldn't brave it. But the armor of full body neoprene gives me courage, and cold or  not, I love the ocean. I love to surf.

Sean and I donned the wet suits. He took my 'banana board', a  yellow 8'2", and I grabbed Kira's 'Robert August', a narrow red striped 8'6" board, and we jumped into the water at Mondos this afternoon.  The waves were perfect size. Three to four feet max, and there was only a little current and almost no wind. An ideal day for surfing. At first, Sean was intimidated at how big the waves looked, but after his first couple of rides, his self assurance took over. I saw him smile, and he grinned even bigger when he realized he could paddle out faster than I could take my heavy butt out to the waves on my board. We surfed a good hour and a half, and when I got tired and he got cold, we headed to shore and back to the van.

As we removed our wetsuits, my eyes kept drifting down to view the tufts of hair that have formed underneath his arms. Thick patches now grew there, when only a year ago I swear they were bare. Where did my little boy go? I wondered. Yes, he was still my son, but now he towered over me, and his body hair was prominent. His voice had dropped at least 2 octaves lower, and I no longer confused him with my daughters voice on the telephone. We packed up the wetsuits and rinsed off with the hot water I'd brought in a jug, got dressed and then headed home.

In order to feel like a Mom once again, I stopped at GameStop to pick up a game he'd been wanting for a while. Infamous 2.  A pretty awesome game with fantastic graphics.  Yes, it was probably a total overspend, but the super-D-duper pack was on sale and I forked out $60.00 just to feel maternal again. Isn't that sad? I relished the smile on my son's face, and for a brief moment was taken back to Christmas mornings when he would come in to the living room and look at the Christmas tree with wonder in his eyes. I almost cried when I thought of it.

I had to get back to the house in time to eat and then have my daughter take me to a Pilates class. She'd been wanting to share her favorite class with me for a while. Even though I'm supposed to be studying for my dissertation defense tomorrow, I geared up in my stretchy pants and my daughter drove me to the exercise studio. When did my daughter start driving? I pondered how it all had happened so fast. One day I'm taking her to a friends house, or dropping her off so she and her friend can go shopping at a nearby mall, and the next day she's driving me all over town. I'm still shaking my head as I write this, remembering how we discussed life choices in the kitchen the other day, and debated over philosophies of life and karma. My daughter. Talking to me about life, and philosophy. Graduated from High School. Starting college this year.

Change IS inevitable, but its never struck me so hard, never knocked me on my butt so squarely as when I take time to look at my children and realize their almost all grown. They are their own little people now, making their own choices, fumbling with relationships, learning from mistakes (I hope) and seldom needing me to make things right. Yet, at the end of the day, they still kiss me and hug me so tightly that there is no doubt in my mind the great love they have for me. And the trust. And I still can't help but fall asleep with a misty tear filling at least one eye when I think of it. Change is tough, but it is wonderful.  I might as well embrace it, and try not to waste each precious moment that comes my way. Like the Borg, resistance is futile.

~Cin

There is freedom...

...in a wave.

Yesterday, I went surfing with my son. Despite my new back troubles and pain, I braved the boards and got in to the van with my hubby and my son, and went to Mondos. I couldn't stay out of the water one more day.

It was an absolutely perfect day to surf. The sky was turquoise, and the water was glassy.  A slight off shore wind let the waves curl just a little.

Sean borrowed Jim's wet suit, and Jim sat out on the beach, while we both went in the water and enjoyed a few waves.

Funny thing, success and motivation.  At first, Sean didn't want to surf, feeling like he was never going to catch a wave. He told me 'surfing just wasn't his thing', and that he was planning on going back in to the beach and getting the boggie board, "...because I'm better at that." he said. Thankfully, a nice and slightly powerful set of waves came in and using my yellow AIPA 8'2" banana board Sean caught a beautiful wave and rode it in almost all the way to the beach.

"So you're ready to go in now?" I asked him, hoping I knew what his answer would be.  He looked at me and smiled.  "I think I'll stay out here for a while." His grin got wider.  I could tell he'd felt a thrill riding that wave.  That was when I did the "mommy dance" (on the inside of course), and almost cried from happiness. I think maybe every parent wants their kids to find some joy in something they love.  Even if it's just the joy of being together.

There are all kinds of freedoms in the world, but the best kind for me yesterday was on a wave. Sharing it with my son, and watching him smile. It's a moment that isn't permanent, but will have a lasting effect on me forever.

Be a Star...

Farmer...

"Every atom in our bodies was once part of a star." (Gattaca)

I saw a Star in person today.  She walked down the Graduation aile of Ventura High School's Senior Class of 2011, and as she walked, the effervescent light she gave off was as blinding to my eyes as if I'd stared at the sun.  My oldest, and my one and only daughter, graduated on this date, inside this time continuum of this particular dimension, and it was oh so sweet. So, Bitter-Sweet.

Almost (not quite) 18 years ago, the child that is now an adult passed through the gateway of my tender womanhood, passed by the shaky monuments of my trembling knees, was lifted up into my arms and became her own human being.  And with every moment of her birth I literally prayed (in between the fevered curses that she would hurry the hell out of me)... for her life-long happiness.  I even bargained with the Gods, the Buddha's, the Spirits and whatever power that may be greater than me, that any negative karma this child might have, would bypass her and stick to me. I prayed that I be allowed to take on the debt of her lifetimes, and I happily offered myself to taking it ALL.   I secretly begged for the life of my dearest daughter to be filled with Grace, to be imbued with Hope, to be infused with joyful Laughter, and I prayed that she know the ultimate soul-encompassing meaning of Love.

And, you know what?  So far (for the most part) every prayer has come true.

It was a selfish bargain really.  I mean, seriously, what parent does not want their child to succeed?  What Mother does not want to see her daughter leap up like an offshoot of her own fertile self and witness that her child has sprouted spectacular sunflowers of success surpassing the original plant of her own being?

I am no different than the sea of parents that stood up and clapped at graduation, proud of their child and proud of their accomplishments...because in some small way, those accomplishments are my accomplishments too.  Because in some small way, we (my husband and I) helped it all to happen.  And it is, altogether, an amazing feat.  An amazing journey.  It is a spectacular event to behold.  And as much as I am proud of my daughter, I find I am humbled before the Miracle of Life beyond measure. I am struck to my knees to be a part of it.

Now, my dearest daughter is out partying at Grad Night, and I sit on my front porch typing this note while sipping on a bit of Glinfiddich, and smoking a Cuba Libre (definitely a favorite) and I wonder what my daughter's life will be like as she steps into the world of Adulthood.  I don't think High School really prepares anyone for that.  At least not yet.

The childhood bliss of Senior Prom and Monday Mornings at School after the Facebook gossip of the weekends, the small Political battles between Rivals and the Music of High School plays...these things don't quite prepare a young adult for the Piranha soup that stews in the world, threatening to gobble up one's soul with the least miscalculation.  I tremble in both fear, and in weird anticipation, to watch it all happen (a curious spectator, me)...and I hope...yes, I HOPE, that she will emerge from the feeding frenzy, not only unscathed, but impervious to the teeth.  I HOPE and I pray, she will wear the armor of her life, her love, and her creativity as boldly as the best knights on the battlefield, and that she will leave that field proud...head held high, knowing she truly lived a life that was the best it could be lived.  And that she lived it with LOVE.  That is what I hope.  It is a simple request in words, yet it is a huge thing to hope in reality.

And as my mind, heart and soul contemplate this, I turn my eyes towards my beautiful and radiant son, who at only 13 years, has watched his sister grow, and who has also (unknowingly) soaked up the very same prayers from his watching Mother.  He doesn't know it, but I hope the very same things for him too.  I hope for him.  I pray for him.  And I wait with each passing day for those invocations to the heavens to come true. 

I have never cared at what cost to my self, their happiness.  No price is too high a price to pay for their joy.  No mountain of burden is too great to bear if it means they can fight the fires of the world and emerge unscathed.  Not because they are me, or even a small part of me.  But because they have, in their own turn, taught me how to Love.

~Cin