A Blog about Things

Something happened one day last week while I was sitting with this student - a 12 year old girl, bug enthusiast and talented artist who has been given certain labels and needs some support; who was groaning and cursing her way through long division problems.  I decided to escort her out of her loud classroom where we had a sub for the morning - to a quieter, hopefully more serene room. And as we were sitting together and she - with her - raw, uninhibited pre-teen anxiety, with her 'I can't do this' and 'I mess up everything' and 'this sucks dude' verbalized again and again and again - I felt like maybe I have no idea what I'm doing with this child. I felt like maybe I should talk to someone about finding someone who might be better suited to whatever this child is dealing with. And then I took some deep breaths. I allowed the moment to be what it was both for her and for myself. And then I found myself saying words that I needed to hear . I fo...

A Mother’s Story…Learning, Accepting, Embracing This work is reprinted with permission from the American Society for Deaf Children, Endeavor Fall 2017.    by Sharon Lynn Clark, mother of SJC A few weeks ago, I was sitting at one of the tables at the YMCA here in Frederick sharing a hummus and pretzel container with my daughter who turned 6 on March 22. She was having a ‘six-year-old moment’ where she had only feisty, contrary comments to make. For example, as I was looking for a spoon in my purse to eat the rest of our hummus, I realized that I didn’t have one, and she said, “I knew you didn’t have one.” A few minutes later I saw that a few tables away from us was a woman tutoring a small child. I told my daughter, SJC, the woman was teaching the child and that Mommy does that, too. My child responded with, “She’s better.” I decided to engage and asked her, “How do you know that she’s better - maybe I am.” SJC said , “No.” Conversation over. A few minutes later she ...

I'm sorry not sorry But I think you thought that stale moldy crumb growing some green shit on the edges  would be enough to feed me That half formed thought that you said  with your eyes all glowing and half open looking clear and  somehow pure would be enough to entice me That kiss you ended in the middle  to talk about I cannot remember what  would be enough to  hold me over  until the next one That my arms  aching the morning after from holding you so tightly  would hold on interminably I think you might have mistakenly believed  that I'd be down for waiting for the person you seemed like See my dear - when I was your age I could have run circles miles, around this bull shit the game player bull shit artist to end all bull shit artists but that  is a fake life  and I am so utterly done with that now So if all you have is partial kisses, and some vague, abstract need to be free horse sh...

Ambush and Center  .  This morning while lying on an acupuncture table with four needles in my hands suddenly these words appeared in my brain: LET IT GO. Just LET  IT GO I write this in capital letters but I don't feel aggressively about it. But it is significant. For what shall I let go? Attachment to struggle, to needing to know the outcome of anything which is a futile task indeed.  And then later this afternoon, while walking on a windy yet sunny day I came across these signs: 'Ambush and Center'. Much of the time these are our choices  - to be ambushed by negativity both real or imaginary - in the past or present... or to seek out feeling centered in a variety of ways. That's all I have at this moment.

Moving. Holy God. Moving. Words that this activity brings to mind include: interminable, anxiety, memories, entrances, exits, purging, endless, more and less Packing shit into boxes just keeps happening. When we might think that the end is in sight that just means that the corner of a piece of a room might be complete by the end of the day tomorrow if you can surrender yourself to the idea that you will NEVER use these things that have been covered in dust for the past year and a half; because that is how long it has been since you have even looked at any of this. I am exaggerating… not even a little. But multiply that by hundreds of crevices in this house full of shit that we thought maybe one day we might have a relationship with/look at/be impacted by/read again if only the mood/day/ something so moved you to.  Yeah. That never happens.  So with the assistance of many people who care about us A LOT- and who need to follow me around with large garbage bags tha...