Dr. Lisa's Bountiful Life

Little Birds

Last week I found a small bird trapped inside our garage. Unlike most garages, this one has a large picture window on the back wall, allowing its visitors to glimpse the nearby river.

It was against the window that the bird was furiously flapping its wings, in an apparent attempt at escape.

Both garage doors were open, but it was clear the bird had no inkling that freedom was so near.

I watched it begin to fatigue.

I worried that it might not find its way out.

I contemplated the necessity of my involvement with its plight.

It lost altitude several times, falling down the window panes as its wings beat more weakly.

I found a box and captured the bird, releasing it quickly into the wild.

Later that same day, I walked into my living room and found, once again, a small bird (similar in appearance to the first), furiously beating its wings against the river-facing picture window.

Stymied as to how a bird might make its way into my house, I watched the scenario play itself  out in exactly the same fashion as before.

I opened the front and back doors so that the bird might have additional means of egress.

The bird appeared not to notice. It continued to beat its wings. 

It fatigued. 

I captured it in a box. I released it outside.

I wondered what message the Universe might be sending, twice in one day. 

I thought about how often I, myself, had furiously attempted to reach something by one route, and found myself repeatedly thwarted.

Eventually becoming discouraged and fatigued.

Only to learn that other routes existed.

Or, truly, to feel some unseen force guiding me in a different direction--sometimes more forcefully than I would have liked.

In the end, knowing the freedom of release and resumed forward motion.

I am--we are--not so very different from our winged friends.

Being trapped is more often a state of mind than a reality.

Open doors may be closer than we think.

 

Falmouth Town Landing

May 2012

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Dr. Lisa's Bountiful Blog is read on the Dr. Lisa Radio Hour & Podcast. Show summaries are available on the Dr. Lisa website. Subscribe to podcasts of the show through iTunes and let us know what you think. 

Weaving & Rending

Motherhood begins with a weaving, and a rending.

Our children--biologically or otherwise gleaned--represent a joining. We, as women, are joined with the fathers who helped us create them, enabling us to carry them in our wombs. Or, we are joined with other mothers, who carry them for us.

Our lives are joined with the lives of the children themselves.

They are verily woven into the fabric of our being. We suckle them. We carry them. We shelter them. We guide them.

And, in the instant of that woven beginning, there is a rending.

There is a dividing line between the existence we once knew, and the existence we will come to know.

There is a dividing line between living only for ourselves, and living fully for another.

Our prior selves are neatly cleaved from us, causing us to begin creating new selves--selves we may not ever again completely recognize as the ones we once knew.

We must undergo loss to realize gain.

This losing, and gaining, represents a pattern that will continue throughout our mothering.

My babies--now 18, 16 and 11--are my heart. They are my lifeblood.

They are the lifeblood of my mother, and her mother before that.

They are an embodiment of love: the love of their own parents, and countless generations preceding.

Today, I will celebrate this love with mothers around the globe.

Yet even while doing so, it remains clear that this celebration may never be limited to one day.

I celebrate the lives of my children with every breath I take. 

I celebrate daily the weaving, and the rending, of motherhood.

 

above

Mothers Day 2012

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Dr. Lisa's Bountiful Blog is read on the Dr. Lisa Radio Hour & Podcast. Show summaries are available on the Dr. Lisa website. Subscribe to podcasts of the show through iTunes and let us know what you think. 

Living on the Limb

When we see the potential in another person--or in a situation--but others cannot yet see it, this can cause us to feel very isolated.

Others may view our instincts and judgment as potentially flawed.

Worse yet, they may question our sanity.

A lonely place this is to live.

A vulnerable place.

It may be hard to trust ourselves, and stick with our initial commitment. Especially if we are committing to a person who himself/herself does not yet see his/her own potential. Or if we are committing to an unpopularly regarded/misunderstood situation.

The more we practice trusting ourselves, the better off we are.

This does not mean that we will always be right.

But if we never trust ourselves, we will never learn that we might be.

Which would truly be a shame.

We are, after all, each endowed with a unique set of abilities and experience. When we do not share these with the world, we may be denying others the opportunity to benefit.

When we do not support the potential in other people/situations, we may be similarly doing the world a disservice.

So we can chose to either live out in that vulnerable place--out on the perpetual limb--or keep clinging to the tree trunk.

With the realization that sometimes the limb will break.

And sometimes it will provide a launching place.

Of course clinging to the tree trunk carries its own risk.

Because even the sturdiest of tree trunks have the capacity to rot, or be felled.

 

yellow boat/foggy day

Popham 2012

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Dr. Lisa's Bountiful Blog is read on the Dr. Lisa Radio Hour & Podcast. Show summaries are available on the Dr. Lisa website. Subscribe to podcasts of the show through iTunes and let us know what you think.