Toddlers and Potty Chairs The rain poured down in the dark sky. I stood bunching White Satin carrots in the light of the garage cooler, I watch my children as I band the bunches, turning to lean against the counter. The children skitter frantically in blurry rushes making mud sundaes. Maeve snoozes upstairs, relishing her afternoon nap, her moments of quite solitude in the afternoon. A moment for Mom to take a deep breath. A moment where I can open my arms and take in the balance of my family, fully. ‘Which one do you like best?” they tout in unison, presenting the mud sundaes and describing chocolate cookie and raspberry concoctions formed by their little wet fingers, sliding smoothly along the clay-like mud surfaces. I later find one tucked away in the corner of the garage, immortalized. Chloe, my little ceramicist. Evidently it runs in her Daddy’s side of the family, earth formers, okay, maybe she gets it from both sides. I was ruminating over the shape of things in the wind-tunnel Saturday night. Cousins were at Grandma & Papa’s and I was going to relish the moment myself. Five buckets of goat cleanings, two flats of peppers unplanted, carrot seeds, tilthing fork, pink gloves and a bellow down the road to my parents house, found me, with a few extra hours to garden time, while the children romped and squealed and played delightfully. Zipping around the yard gleefully, giggling. I listen to the joy and unabashed happiness that yelped from somewhere deep inside those glad places and I smile inside as I plunge my fork into the empty bed. The last of the carrots planted in April, had been harvested and consumed, now the peppers were to take their place in quiet rotation. The circle, like a rotation. That’s what I was ruminating over. How, if you are sitting across from someone in a circle, all holding hands, rocking back in forth, together in unison, that the people across from you in the circle appear to be moving in the opposite direction. The perception is opposition, but the reality is unison. I ponder upon the perception of our humanity, are we really all just sitting in a circle, rocking back and forth and, there really is no such thing as opposition, because, if that were so, then there would be chaos and the circle would fall apart. But the circle does not fall apart, our society keeps functioning, our humanity keeps propelling itself forward into eternity. Eternal, like a circle. But wait, a circle can be two dimensional, as it lays flat, or it can twist itself to occupy more than one vertical plane, thereby becoming three dimensional. If you are standing on the ground and you watch a circle of people holding hands while two groups across the circle from one another stand up, a rudimentary lemniscate is born. The three-dimensional circle, the infinity sign, eternal. It has been born into humanity, a circle slightly twisted. Is that what we are, a circle slightly twisted? The twist: our creativity, or ability as humans, to create, to form this earth as we see fit, to allow the ego to form the earth like the little fingers of my children on the mud sundaes. I think we are all born to carry out a mission on this earth. Once we have radioed ground control that our mission is complete, we will return home, to whatever home it is that we have formed for ourselves in the “after-life.” Maybe we return again for another mission. Or maybe we just get one chance. Or maybe, it all just ends when we our bodies poop out. Whatever we believe, we are all still just people, sitting in a circle, holding hands, singing classic songs of joy, ringing forth with a mission to survive on this earth. To have full bellies, to be healthy, to be where we are supposed to be, doing what we love to do, with all the passion in our hearts. And it’s in all of our best interests that do this. Balance is stricken in the lemniscate, and sometimes we need to help each other along, that is why we are holding hands. My daughter tugs firmly on my pants while I am getting dinner ready the other night, “pee” she touts. I am cooking, I think to myself, if I take her to the big potty I have to wipe her and wash my hands again. “Use your potty chair,” I tell her, “I’m cooking dinner.” I look over and notice that the little circle potty pot has fallen out of the potty frame onto the ground and realize I am going to have to wash my hands again anyhow. I put down the carrots and fix the potty chair. I wash my hands and return to the business of making dinner for the household crews and continue to ruminate on the shape of things. Like that circle on the seat of that little potty chair, how when Maeve finished going pee pee, she pulled up her pants without wiping, took out the little circle from the potty chair and dumped it in the oval of the bathroom toilet seat. Climbed the toilet in the bathroom to rinse out the little circle of the potty chair, and then set it on the ground beneath the wooden seat of her potty chair and then returned to the bathroom to wash her hands. And I think, how nice it is that we can all help each other along in subtle little ways and we can all co-exist peacefully as a result. Write down your mission and bring in to market. Any old piece of paper will do. Then write down something that you need help on and bring it to me. Only bring it if you are willing to share it, as I will share it via the newsletter and Facebook. Be sure to write your name on the piece of paper, because maybe, by putting your mission, your passion out there where people can see, someone might be able to help you along in the way you need helping. And for sharing your mission with me, and the world, I’ll give you $2 off your next vegetable purchase of $10 or more for market goers. For subscribers, I’ll give you $2 off your next honey, egg or bulk fruit order purchase.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Aug 2013 14:07:11 +0000
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