Happy New Year!
Here's a wonderful affirmation that I posted on my bathroom mirror so I can read it every morning & every night...it's from The Secret's daily calendar.
An affirmation for the rest of your life:
"In the new picture of the coming years, I see my life growing & expanding in everything:
in health, youth, & unlimited energy at all times & in all circumstances.
I see myself in complete freedom.
I see unlimited growth in my personal capacity, mental power & intellectual brilliancy.
I see constant improvement in all the elements of my personality & my body.
I see daily growth in my wisdom, understanding, insight & realization.
I see myself in peace, harmony, love & joy & I see my character expanding to be stronger &
more beautiful.
I see the never-ending betterment of friends, associations & environments.
I see myself in everlasting joy & infinite bliss."
I really liked the Daily Calendar made by the people at The Secret. It kept me focused on the positive & was a nice was to start the day. I highly recommend it & will be getting the new one for this year (which isn't a calendar).
Wishing you the best 2009!
http://www.awelllivedlife.net/
http://www.awelllivedlife.blogspot.com/
Tampilkan postingan dengan label encouragement. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label encouragement. Tampilkan semua postingan
Kamis, 01 Januari 2009
Jumat, 22 Februari 2008
The Invisible Mom
To all the moms out there:
With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees...
The Invisible Mom:I'm Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response,the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phoneand ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking,
"Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not;no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping thefloor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can
see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?"I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that onceheld books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had
disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man,"Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Author Unknown
http://www.awelllivedlife.net/
http://www.awelllivedlife.blogspot.com/
With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees...
The Invisible Mom:I'm Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response,the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phoneand ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking,
"Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not;no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping thefloor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can
see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?"I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that onceheld books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had
disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man,"Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Author Unknown
http://www.awelllivedlife.net/
http://www.awelllivedlife.blogspot.com/
Senin, 28 Januari 2008
Attitude is everything
Hi-
Attitude is everything. You can be the kind of person that thinks the glass is half full or half empty. I tend to be the kind of person that thinks the glass is half empty & I'm working on being more mindful of looking at the glass as half full instead. I really need to take notice of my thoughts & catch myself when a negative thought passes by. It happens so easily that sometimes I don't even notice it. But when I catch myself & change the thought into a positive one (for example...Ugh...another day spent indoors with the kids & changing it to...I'm thankful to have this time with them), I notice I end up having a much better attitude & outcome.
I think especially for HypnoBirthing moms or moms that want a natural birth, attitude is so important! What you think affects how your body responds. Therefore, positive thoughts & visualizations of birth must be what swim in your head. When & if any negative images or thoughts come up, they must be quickly replaced with positive thoughts even if you don't feel it 100%.
Here is a cute, inspiring little story:
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head. Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today?" So she did and she hada wonderful day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. "Hmmmmm," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today?" So she did and she had a grand day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"
Attitude is everything.
Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly,
Leave the rest to God/the universe.
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass . It's about learning to dance in the rain.
Hope that inspires you to be more mindful of your attitude.
AWellLivedLife.net
AWellLivedLife.blogspot.com
Attitude is everything. You can be the kind of person that thinks the glass is half full or half empty. I tend to be the kind of person that thinks the glass is half empty & I'm working on being more mindful of looking at the glass as half full instead. I really need to take notice of my thoughts & catch myself when a negative thought passes by. It happens so easily that sometimes I don't even notice it. But when I catch myself & change the thought into a positive one (for example...Ugh...another day spent indoors with the kids & changing it to...I'm thankful to have this time with them), I notice I end up having a much better attitude & outcome.
I think especially for HypnoBirthing moms or moms that want a natural birth, attitude is so important! What you think affects how your body responds. Therefore, positive thoughts & visualizations of birth must be what swim in your head. When & if any negative images or thoughts come up, they must be quickly replaced with positive thoughts even if you don't feel it 100%.
Here is a cute, inspiring little story:
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head. Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today?" So she did and she hada wonderful day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. "Hmmmmm," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today?" So she did and she had a grand day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"
Attitude is everything.
Be kinder than necessary...for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly,
Leave the rest to God/the universe.
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass . It's about learning to dance in the rain.
Hope that inspires you to be more mindful of your attitude.
AWellLivedLife.net
AWellLivedLife.blogspot.com
Selasa, 15 Januari 2008
Mothering the mother
Hi-
I have found another great "mom" website: firstourselves.com. The site is dedicated to helping moms take care of themselves first so that they can be better parents & partners to their family members.
Here is a post that I really enjoyed called Mothering the Mother:
Mothering the Mother: How to Feel Better About Yourself as a Mother
One of the greatest gifts that we can give each other is courage. "I believe in you," is a token phrase, one that we share often and easily. But saying that you believe in someone is more than just an attempt at a pep talk. When we say I believe in you, what we're doing is holding onto a higher image for another. We're sharing our vision of who they can be---how we see them, through our eyes---to enable them to grow beyond their own.
"I believe in you," is more accurately said, "I see you." I see who you really are. I see you through my eyes: through the eyes of love. And this love renders you wonderful.
How often do we honestly see ourselves as mothers? Do we overfocus on our moments of weakness; underfocus on our successes? I'm thinking of the times when I berate myself for not measuring up, for not being a perfect mother; for losing it and yelling at my children; for succumbing to fatigue, overwhelment, or irritation, and sputtering, "Because I said so!" instead of offering a gentle reply. Some days, these feelings pile upon one another, forming a cloud that blocks my perspective, and I feel heavy with regret. I feel like a terrible mother. My biases, regret, judgment, and experiences are tempering how I see myself.
But let's turn this perspective around: let's imagine a friend, a sister, or even a stranger observing this series of events. Imagine a loving guide accompanying you throughout the day. What would they say about you? How would they see you? Can you view yourself through their eyes?
What about your children? Have you ever stopped to ponder how they see you? Have you ever looked at yourself through their eyes?
I'm thinking that they believe you're a queen. A goddess. The most beautiful woman they've ever seen. The woman they love more than anyone else in the world. A wonderful Mommy.
(If you have teenagers, and you're laughing at this point, think about how your children looked at you when they were little. Adolescence isn't forever; this stage---doesn't every teenager despise their parents at one point or another?---will pass.)
There's a line in a Nikki Giovanni poem, "Love in Place," where she remembers a time with a former lover, and the joy she felt then: "I see the old photographs and I am/smiling and I'm quite sure/happy but what I mostly see is me/through your eyes." Isn't that beautiful? Seeing ourselves through another's eyes---through the eyes of love---takes us out of our perspective of ourselves, which is often clouded with too much self awareness; too much judgment. We're so much harsher on ourselves than we ever are with other people. Would we ever say the things that we say to ourselves to a friend, or loved one: You're a terrible mother. You're a fat cow. You're a piece of crap. You can't do anything right.
Let's try this instead: let's view ourselves through the eyes of love. You're a wonderful mother. You have a beautiful, curvy body. You're beloved, divinely created. You do so much right.
Gene Kelly once said, "You don't love a woman because she is beautiful. She is beautiful because you love her." It is love that softens the edges, that smooths our rough parts, that allows others to see the essence of who we are, to see our beauty, to see our kindness, our compassion, our selflessness---even on the days when they're clouded by stress or fatigue.
I believe it was comedian Chris Rock we spoke about "loving the crust of somebody." Not just the soft, white, chewy bread, but the hard crust, too; the crumbs.
Your children love the crust of you. God loves the crust of you. Your family and friends love the crust of you.
Do you love the crust of you? Stop, pause, and move out of your perspective. Remove your criticism,and see: Can you see yourself through the eyes of love? Can you see yourself from your children's eyes? Meditate on that perspective throughout the coming week.
***************
I have found another great "mom" website: firstourselves.com. The site is dedicated to helping moms take care of themselves first so that they can be better parents & partners to their family members.
Here is a post that I really enjoyed called Mothering the Mother:
Mothering the Mother: How to Feel Better About Yourself as a Mother
One of the greatest gifts that we can give each other is courage. "I believe in you," is a token phrase, one that we share often and easily. But saying that you believe in someone is more than just an attempt at a pep talk. When we say I believe in you, what we're doing is holding onto a higher image for another. We're sharing our vision of who they can be---how we see them, through our eyes---to enable them to grow beyond their own.
"I believe in you," is more accurately said, "I see you." I see who you really are. I see you through my eyes: through the eyes of love. And this love renders you wonderful.
How often do we honestly see ourselves as mothers? Do we overfocus on our moments of weakness; underfocus on our successes? I'm thinking of the times when I berate myself for not measuring up, for not being a perfect mother; for losing it and yelling at my children; for succumbing to fatigue, overwhelment, or irritation, and sputtering, "Because I said so!" instead of offering a gentle reply. Some days, these feelings pile upon one another, forming a cloud that blocks my perspective, and I feel heavy with regret. I feel like a terrible mother. My biases, regret, judgment, and experiences are tempering how I see myself.
But let's turn this perspective around: let's imagine a friend, a sister, or even a stranger observing this series of events. Imagine a loving guide accompanying you throughout the day. What would they say about you? How would they see you? Can you view yourself through their eyes?
What about your children? Have you ever stopped to ponder how they see you? Have you ever looked at yourself through their eyes?
I'm thinking that they believe you're a queen. A goddess. The most beautiful woman they've ever seen. The woman they love more than anyone else in the world. A wonderful Mommy.
(If you have teenagers, and you're laughing at this point, think about how your children looked at you when they were little. Adolescence isn't forever; this stage---doesn't every teenager despise their parents at one point or another?---will pass.)
There's a line in a Nikki Giovanni poem, "Love in Place," where she remembers a time with a former lover, and the joy she felt then: "I see the old photographs and I am/smiling and I'm quite sure/happy but what I mostly see is me/through your eyes." Isn't that beautiful? Seeing ourselves through another's eyes---through the eyes of love---takes us out of our perspective of ourselves, which is often clouded with too much self awareness; too much judgment. We're so much harsher on ourselves than we ever are with other people. Would we ever say the things that we say to ourselves to a friend, or loved one: You're a terrible mother. You're a fat cow. You're a piece of crap. You can't do anything right.
Let's try this instead: let's view ourselves through the eyes of love. You're a wonderful mother. You have a beautiful, curvy body. You're beloved, divinely created. You do so much right.
Gene Kelly once said, "You don't love a woman because she is beautiful. She is beautiful because you love her." It is love that softens the edges, that smooths our rough parts, that allows others to see the essence of who we are, to see our beauty, to see our kindness, our compassion, our selflessness---even on the days when they're clouded by stress or fatigue.
I believe it was comedian Chris Rock we spoke about "loving the crust of somebody." Not just the soft, white, chewy bread, but the hard crust, too; the crumbs.
Your children love the crust of you. God loves the crust of you. Your family and friends love the crust of you.
Do you love the crust of you? Stop, pause, and move out of your perspective. Remove your criticism,and see: Can you see yourself through the eyes of love? Can you see yourself from your children's eyes? Meditate on that perspective throughout the coming week.
***************
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