It's all about The Dirt:

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” – Robert Browning

I love this photo. It reminds me of sweet home Chicago, the melting pot that I grew up in. Skirting the inner city along the lake, we thrived and meshed with all races, sizes, religions and beliefs. Pockets of rough and tough combined with tightly knit neighbors of loving families.

The butcher, the baker, the drug store, the library, the Catholic School, the department store…the cultural diversity. We never got hit by cars, but we crossed busy streets. We got bullied by kids and our bikes stolen, but we held our own. We went to carnivals with all our friends and didn’t have cell phones. Whiffs of Indian food hovered in the alleys while we walked home from school to eat our pot roast.

Different = not the same. But celebrated.

The city kids were the closest group of friends I ever had. We hung out and stuck together like glue. We played spin the bottle, had pizza parties and sleep overs. Ice skating, bowling, movies, birthdays, and beach bums. Everywhere from city parks, backyards, alleys, and parking lots. No one came over to my house because my dad was too tall, big and scary. Sometimes we’d be getting chased by the cops, loitering, or gazing fondly at the hunky life guards. We had adventures and escapades to bars and beaches near “the projects” (run down, low income housing known for crime). We always did something different and mixed it up because we could. I refused to live in fear because of my feeling of cultural connection and respect.

Our “clan” consisted of diversity. We came from different religions, blood and homes. We were raised from single moms and bum dads, drug-dealing siblings, crazy families and some with English sheep dogs. There were parents full of humor, and moms who hung their double D bras in the bathroom. Some parents who always worked and were never seen, or some that seemed to be there just when you needed them. Brothers who grew weed in the backyard and sisters who were super bossy. All of us gathered to talk about how dysfunctional our families were, but then again, we all had something in common:

We were different, and we accepted each other just the way we were. Harmony in disharmony.

Why now do we have to be the same?

What happened to accepting people for the way we are?

The “clan” is now scattered. FBI indictments, some became cops, drugs, comedians, politicians, some hit it big while some went to jail, Benz’s, cancer, and some escaped to the suburbs and are comfy in their big homes with their families. No matter how scattered we are, we’ll always have our unadulterated memories that we can laugh, cry, joke, and celebrate. As kids, we never looked upon each other as lucky, poor, rich, messed up, or judged. We just enjoyed each others company and accepted the many shades of skin, cultures and personalities.

Okay, fine, I’ll say I miss it. I miss the melting pot. I miss going to a ethnically diverse college and riding the “L” train, and learning to understand all different walks of life. Sometimes I feel sheltered, bubbled and protected.

When I was on my honeymoon at a cozy, small island named Anguilla, we stopped to ask a man for directions to a beach, who happened to be a deep shade of brown. Offering his services, he said he could take us there. Okay. As my husband shot me a look of suspicion, I winked at him and told the guy to jump in. Here we go…some stranger taking us to an out-of-the-way, tranquil, quiet and deserted beach. What was I thinking? Show us the way! First of all, the island was small and quaint with very little crime. I trusted my gut, my hunch. I felt “the peaceful island way”. The guy was looking for a tip, so he lead us to the beach, pocketed his wad and went back home. Yes, we were suckers, but we found the beach we sought after.

Maybe my childhood experiences of being exposed to many diverse people and gave me the wisdom to follow my instincts.

As we celebrate shades of green beer and Irish culture, let’s really celebrate shades of people, places and things. We are meant to connect with one another.

“Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.” – Sean O’Casey

(photo credit)

Heave ho up the mountain, escaping in the dark to the hidden trail. Snowshoes are well tightened with light layers on so I can warm myself up by moving fast. Into the abyss I go…

What happens to my brain as I begin to climb in the dark? Something very different opens and lights up my path. Is it the excitement of the anticipating journey? Not knowing what will be around the next switchback? The conquering climb to the top? The peace of it being just me?

I’m not sure what the buzz is, but I’m totally into it. I think I begin to take the sunlit view for granted sometimes, although I said I never would. Maybe it’s the nightly glow, or the mystery of it all. Maybe it’s that I’m fully surrounded by nature and connected to the each branch that tickles me as I pass; each twinkling light of the city getting more and more distant as I lay down each foot.

Maybe it’s my intrigue into the unknown.

I don’t feel lost or scared or misguided. I feel lead to a place where I feel safe and warm. My heart pumps and moves my legs freely; allowing me to gain energy, move faster and breathe deeply. Cleansing breaths in the cool, clear air cleanse my soul.

Obviously this is a spiritually huge moment for me…

Then the lookout bench arrives. A perfect place to rest, reflect and recharge. An ideal place to ponder, praise and be at peace. I definitely feel like I could just fall asleep and end up in the morning as a bench icicle…and be preserved as another piece of nature. To stop in time and relish the moment. True bliss.

Do I stop enough to relish the moment?

As my daughter came from her friend’s house down the short block, it took her twenty minutes yesterday. Stop, kick the snow. Couple more steps. Stop, eat the snow. Couple more steps. Stop, make snow angels…look up at the sky…reach your hands up to the falling snow and catch it…slip and slide… play…enjoy. She was present in herself. She felt the joy of a leisurely walk home to refuel her soul.

Do you only have to be a kid to do that?

I have found this year to be so childlike in so many ways for me. To reach in and grab my happy roots. Find what matters and pull from the immature excitement that I sometimes miss dearly, and often neglect. Do what makes me jump out of my skin with laughter, joy and excitement. To live with intention and gusto. No regrets…

I have every intention of making this year even better. Letting life move me in a positive direction that will catapult me to new places…places I never thought I could ever get to. It doesn’t have to happen in the Spring to grow new shoots or plant new seeds. I will unearth the dirt and come clean with the real spiritual being that I am.

And it’d be even sweeter to see it happen in you…

Live your New Year in utter bliss every chance you get.

I choose tears of joy and imagination…deep roots worth growing.