Mother’s Day

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It’s been compliment week here at Spring Hill~

just in time for Mother’s Day!

My littlest daughter who rarely gives a compliment, told me that I am even smarter than her school teacher who is “very smart.”

My oldest girl thanked me for years of piano lessons, and for having such feminine fashion flair.

My middle girl, when I asked her what I’m ever going to do when she and her sisters leave the house, said, “Something absolutely amazing, of course!”

I am wowed by their confidence in me. Wowed by their kindness and generosity  in word, thought, and action. Wowed by their work ethic, their sensitivity and awareness of other people, their joyful optimism, their desires for excellence, and their ability to embrace their childhood with the sweetness of play.

Yes, I might just do “something amazing” when you leave for college, but nothing ever will compare in amazing joy and significance to the world than being your mother. Nothing. My deepest love, adoration, and respect my little women. Always, Mama

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Will a Jaguar Make Me Happy?

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The desire for happiness is essential to man. It is the motivator of all our acts. The most venerable, clearly understood, enlightnened, and reliable constant in the world is not only that we want to be happy, but that we want only to be so. Our very nature requires it of us. -Seneca

I remember once talking a man through his desire for a Jaguar. It went something like this.

Why do you want a Jaguar? I asked.

Because it’s quality and style, and I am a person who values both.

Why does being a person of quality and style matter to you?

Because I prefer well-made automobiles, and everything for that matter to junk, and I want my style to reflect that.

Why is it important that your style is reflected in your choice of car?

Because I want people to know the kind of person I am, I guess.

You want people to know that you are a Jaguar?

No, I want people to know that I value the finer things in life.

Do you want people to know also that you can afford the finer things in life?

Yes, I guess I do.

And why is that important to you?

I don’t know.

Let me ask another question then. How does it make you feel when you imagine people seeing you drive the Jaguar?

I feel confident and important. Like I accomplished something in life.

And at the end of the day as you go to bed, your Jaguar in the garage, how do you feel?

I feel like my life is a success.

Yes, that is what you are thinking, and what emotion does that thought evoke?

Happiness pretty much.

Happiness. That’s interesting. I want you to notice how that happiness feels in your body right now and tell me when you’ve got it.

(Pause) Okay, I’ve got it.

Now I want you to keep noticing this emotion of happiness, and consider the possibility that it is this feeling of happiness you most desire, and not the Jaguar.

Hmm.

Could that be a possibility?

I guess it could be.

But you still want the Jaguar, right?

Yes, but the desire isn’t quite as strong.

Okay. Because there’s nothing wrong with owning a Jaguar. But if it is happiness and inner confidence that you truly want, you don’t need to buy a Jaguar to get it. You don’t need to buy anything.

Hmm. That’s a different way of thinking. So what you’re saying is that if I can just figure out how to be happy, I can save myself a lot of cash.

Exactly!

And there my friends, is the multi-million dollar question. How do we let go of the inexhaustible desire for external things, to attain a steady state of inner fulfillment and joy? How do we attain kind of happiness that isn’t reliant on outward circumstances, or even the achievement of worthy goals? How do we discern the difference between the transient happiness of satisfying our whims, and the happiness that arises from the immutable simplicity of a good heart?  I don’t have all the answers, but I am seeking. And I believe it is possible.  Let me know what you think too, and what kind of car you’d love to see sitting in your driveway! 

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Superior Court Judge disrobes and does handstand in open court to celebrate adoption.

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Yes, this would be my multi-talented 44-year-old husband, who according to him, “nailed it” for several seconds.

Here’s the story.

It’s Friday afternoon, and 16-year-old Selena sits quietly in the county courtroom next to her attorney and soon-to-be adoptive parents. Friends, family, and social workers watch from the gallery with smiles and tears.

Judge Michael Evans, taken by the generosity of these two parents in opening their hearts to this teenaged girl, addresses the crowd. “This experience makes me so happy I could do a handstand,” he says.

After the attorney asks the adoptive parents a few brief legal questions,  Judge Evans formalizes the adoption with his signature, congratulates the family, and stands to shake hands with each person, including Selena.

“But wait,” she speaks for the first time directly to Judge Evans as they stand face to face. “You said you were going to do a handstand, right?”

“Well, uh, I was just uh.. Yes I did say that now didn’t I?”  She smiles and he smiles back. Then he unzips his robe, removes it, folds it over once, and drapes it across a chair.  And in a single attempt in the middle of his courtroom he nails it, for several seconds. People laugh, snap photos, and cheer, not only for a girl who now has a forever family, but for a dynamic judge who made sure she’d never forget this day.

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To a Charmed Life: Freedom from the Past

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The joyful recipients of my letting go.

Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back. From then on, you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent. You are loath to let compromise or the threat of danger hold you back from striving toward the summit of fulfillment.”  -John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

I once attended a packed conference, and during the break, a man who claimed to do spiritual work approached me. He told me that he was an intuitive and that of all the people in the crowd, he felt drawn to talk to me. After some initial conversation, he expressed his opinion.

“You seem like a person who has led a charmed life,” he said. “Life has come easily to you, and it is hardship you need to truly advance.”

At first, I was incredulous and incensed. Some charlatan you must be, I thought, if you can perceive me and my life no clearer than that.

I stood there, the old me wanting to share my satire with presence and power.

Instead, I paused and simply said, “I know something of suffering.”

As we went back to our seats, I pondered his pronouncement as I vacillated between mild irritation and curiosity, and then it hit me. His inability to see the anguish of my life was a compliment. So completely had I forgiven and released the past, that I no longer wore the pain of it like a badge or carried it around like a trophy. So clear of these emotions was I that he who was trained to see such things could not even detect them.

In her book Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can Caroline Myss, medical intuitive and mystic, speaks of the phenomenon of “woundology.” Woundology is a way of presenting oneself in the world by the abuse, illnesses, and hardships we’ve suffered. This way of being allows us to connect with people who have suffered likewise, and keeps us in a place of a disempowered victim.

Therefore~

My soul is awakened and I shall never go back to dwell in the lowlands of the past, except in reverence and in gratitude for the entire span of my life which I do not despise, and which I hold in sacred honor. I shall write most of all about light, love, luminosity, and flourishing here on this blog. But if you must know, I do know something of suffering, which is why at times I am filled with such joy I shall not contain it.

If you’re holding onto the past, start first by considering the possibility that you will be safe without it. Maybe you will and maybe you won’t but maybe you will. Consider that you no longer need these wounds to justify your lack of success in life and that you can stand on your own two feet without them. Consider that holding onto the pain will not help them learn their lessons nor will it help you learn yours. Just consider the possibility, and it’s okay if you need time or if you can only let go of a little. It’s completely okay.

To the compliment of a charmed life for all…

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Notes from my first conversation with my birthfather and why I love him, like it or not.

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This is a photo of of Dennis, my birthfather, taken around 1961. He has the same look on his face I did at his age. It’s the sort of look that says,

“Don’t bother me. I’m contemplating God, science,

and the universe right now…”

And the thing is, I love him. I’m not suppose to love him apparently, but I do.  I’m  not suppose to love him because after all, he didn’t work three jobs at a time and join the Army to feed and clothe me. He didn’t hoist me on his shoulders at the fair when I was tired, or sit with me through two eye surgeries. He didn’t drive 90 minutes to retrieve my lost doll at the car lot, or come to my dance recitals, or give me his last five dollars, or move me into my apartment my first year of college.

I’m not suppose to love him because except for a premonition, he didn’t even know I existed, through no fault of his own. Which means my birthmother brought me into the world pretty much solo and I thank her for that.

Even his older brother Jim, the first family member I spoke to before I met Dennis, braced me for disappointment. “He’s just an old Vietnam Vet who lives in the woods and prays a lot,” he told me. “Don’t get your hopes up, kid. He’s a guy that went away to war and didn’t come back the same.”

Too bad Uncle Jim didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. Likewise, too bad he didn’t have eyes to see the beauty of his brother’s mind and heart, brimming with the rare kind of forgiveness and love that expects nothing in return.

I waited two weeks after receiving a message from Dennis on my answering machine before I called him back. My nerves jangled and the brick wall of fear of the unknown loomed. I pulled out one of Hugh’s yellow legal pads and collected five pens in case I ran out of ink and dialed.

“Hello,” he answered, his voice bright and curious.

“Hello, this is Melanee,” I said, pressing this moment between my throat and my heart.

“Well hello there, Melanee!” he replied.”I am delighted you chose to call!”

His use of the word “delighted” encouraged me, as did the crescendo of joy that bounced off the end of his words.

“Is this a good time?” I asked.

“It is a perfect time,” he replied.

He did most of the talking at first, and I asked an occasional question. He told me about his childhood being one of eight children, just like me. He told me his role in the family was that of peacemaker, counselor, caretaker, and spiritual advisor, just like me. He spoke of his philosophies of life, of love, compassion, forgiveness, God and light. He spoke of the blessing and burden of his intuitive gifts. Of being able to discern people and their emotions and motives, and always seeking the good. Of his endless curiosity, and desire for inner beauty and excellence. Of his tendency to depression, his unyielding faith in Jesus Christ and his overwhelming compassion for the human race.

He sincerely apologized to me for any pain he had caused me by his mistake in judgement, explained all of the circumstances, and asked for my forgiveness.

I did not expect this. Any of it. I had hoped for simple kindness of course, and I hoped he wasn’t a loser creep. But this luminous kindred soul on the other end of the line mirroring my deepest beliefs and most sacred struggles and triumphs-never.

We spoke for over two hours straight, me rocking back and forth in my rocking chair on the front patio, scribbling notes in circles on my yellow legal pad, he answering every question I cared to ask with such honesty it startled me.

I could barely breathe when we hung up so intense were my emotions. And despite the positivity of our conversation, my foundation was so seismically shaken, it took weeks before I could call again.

It’s funny too because when I’d tell people I spoke to him, they’d say, “So what does he do?”

I’d laugh and say, “I have no idea. We didn’t get to that part yet.” We were too busy talking about God, science, the nature of light, love, sacrifice, and the universe. Too busy talking about what we want to become to pay much attention to what anyone does for a living.

It’s been almost four years since we met, and our conversations, rarely lasting under three hours, are always rich and ennobling. He’s visited me here at home, and I’ve visited him too.

And like it or not, I love him. The bright spot of joy in this journey that astonishes me still. The praying Vietnam Vet who lives in the woods and could light a dozen cities with his soul. How could I not?

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Haiku to Hugh

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The moorings of you

knot my rebel ship to shore.

I shall not drink death.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hugh is my husband. Haiku is a very short form of Japanese poetry containing 17 moras, or sounds, which determine syllabic weight. The first phrase contains 5 moras, the second, 7, and the third, 5. A traditional Japanese haiku contains a kigo, a word or phrase that represents a season. Here is another haiku to Hugh, and one to my baby.

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Skipping Puddles: Enjoying Nature with Children the Easy Way

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We often think that enjoying nature with children takes work and effort, and sometimes it does. What I’ve discovered though as a mother, is that simple nature moments with my children can occur every day in the most unusual of places. Sometimes I’m looking for nature opportunities, but more often than not, my daughters find them for me and invite me to join in.  It is these spontaneous moments of outdoor delight that seem to be amongst the most joyful memories in my collection of motherhood.

Several years ago when my girls were barely past my knee, we walked through a wet and moonlit Pier 1 parking lot on our way to the car.  I jotted a verse of what happened next in my journal before I went to bed that night. Here it is.

Pier 1 Parking Lot Poem

They skipped across puddles in purple boots,

smiling as wide as the moon.

“Come splash with us,” the little one trilled

to the beat of her happy tune.

And so I did, leather shoes and all

until I was dancing too~

exchanging at least 29 of my years

for some merriment long overdue.

~Melanee Evans


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A Dose of Vitamin N: 6 Tips to Unplug this Spring and Get Some Green

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Melanee Evans delights in the raiment of a Northwest spring with her dashing husband and three puddle skipping daughters. Published in the Columbia River Reader March 15, 2012.

The graceful chartreuse of spring is upon us, and with it, more rain. While we’d love to pack our galoshes and raincoats in the attic, we still have a few months to celebrate nature in all its drenched finery. Fortunately, the luxury of living in the Northwest provides us plentiful and easy excursions that may benefit our health and happiness levels too.

In his groundbreaking book, Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder, author Richard Louv connects a child’s direct exposure to nature to a greater ability to focus, higher test scores, healthy weight, improved mood, and increased creativity. Researchers also agree that what’s good for children, is good for grownups too. Studies conducted in Sweden revealed that exercisers who jog in green and natural settings feel more relaxed, restored, and less anxious and depressed than those who burn the same amount of calories in a brick and mortar building. Further studies suggest that adults who spend just an hour in nature experience an increase in memory and attention span, and increased productivity at work.

So this spring, instead of staring at the screen or hiding under a rock until summer, unplug from virtual reality and nourish yourself with a daily dose of “Vitamin N” instead.

Need some simple ideas to enjoy nature in spring weather? Here’s a few tips to get you started.

  • Sunrise: Arise before dawn, fill your thermos, and find a spot in nature to sit in quietude to watch the sunrise. Watch for the edge of the sun lift against the changing backdrop of the sky. March and April sunrise times vary, and can be found online.
  • Indoor Nursery: Walk through an indoor nursery or garden center, not to make a purchase or plan your next patio party, but to simply observe the plants and shrubs. If you want a token of inspiration, jot a few notes in a garden notebook, or buy a packet of your favorite seeds for an indoor herb garden.
  • Umbrella: Add a splash of verve to your nature walk and choose a fashionable umbrella in a vibrant color.The cheeriness of yellow, the bold energy of red, the sophistication of purple, the warmth of orange, and the friendliness of turquoise are lovely choices for a jaunt around town.
  • Lemon or Gardenia Tree: Buy a small lemon or lime tree, a gardenia or orchid plant and put it in a pot in a bright indoor spot.Take a moment each day to look at it’s beauty, breathe in its scent, and develop a friendship by sharing a happy word or two.
  • Shades of Gray: How many shades of gray sky can you identify? Observe the sky as a painter would, and give each shade a special name. Pewter, Sea Pearl, and Stone Harbor Gray. Colonial, Whippoorwill, and Cobblestone Gray. For more ideas, collect gray paint chips from your local hardware store and match them with the sky.
  • Puddles: Few spring activities revive our joy of childhood like splashing across puddles with a child. Leather shoes, rubber boots or barefoot, dancing to the beat of a child’s happy tune in pools of rain just can’t be beat.

What are a few of your favorite rainy-day nature activities for spring? 

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Swimsuit Confidence

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She had two tattoos. One on her shoulder and one near her tailbone. Nothing special. Just the swirly kind with a small rose on one and what looked like her boyfriend’s name on the other. Her post-pregnancy stretchmarks spanned out in rivulets across her lax, young belly, and she pressed the face of her blond toddler next to her own dark, Italian profile.

“Back in the pool,” she steered her baby into the water, standing confident in her teensy rainbow bikini, her smudged black mascara matching her hair and eyes.

Instead of watching my own babies, I wondered about her conspicuous skin disorder just below the left side of her fanny. I wondered other things too, like if she could give me a lesson on how to stand so confident wearing nothing more than three dots of lyrca in a swarm of strangers.

If my would-be moxy mentor wasn’t interested, at least 100 other unabashed females streaming through the water park, might be. They too proudly paraded the mortal map of their life for a peering public. Depressed or prosperous breasts, firm or fleshy middles spilling out over a single string of fabric, it didn’t matter. The more the exposure it seemed, the stronger the strut.

I smoothed my palm over the curve of my hip and felt like my grandmother in my one-piece swimsuit. Hugh spotted me and waved at me from the wade pool, our three girls clutching to his back laughing.

Did he think I looked grandmotherly? Of course not. (That was my last swimsuit).

And then I wondered. From where does this ease of self-exhibition arise? This exposure of every physical life detail? Could it be reality television? Tabloid news? The invention of the internet?  Do these women hold a clue to confidence that eludes me?

I thought of my blog and I thought of my grandfather.

“How could you possibly publish your private thoughts to strangers?”

“It’s easier when it’s strangers, Grandpa.”

He shook his head.

And there you go. We each share our private lives in different ways.  Some do so at the beach, others do so with the pen, and others do so by sharing a secret talent.

Metaphorically speaking, I will still wear my fabulous one-piece swimsuit here on my blog. And while I’m sometimes tempted to don the bikini and expose my most private thoughts, I’ve found it far more empowering to reserve such things for those who matter most.

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We are the sum total of our finest moments

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Hugh and Clover are in a musical together and practice several times a week at the local high school. On my way through the parking lot to pick them up, I stopped to say hello to a dear friend whose children are also in the play.

In the brief few minutes I stood in the misty rain at the window of her van, we first chatted about an upcoming lecture she invited me to give this month to a group of women in the community. We then discussed insights on a TED talk we both happened to see about work and happiness, and she shared how she now seeks the positive at work, and sends random notes of appreciation to her coworkers. We talked about the rush of life and our desire to be as healthy as possible, as she blushed unnecessarily at the half-eaten pizza on the front seat, purchased for her kids on a busy day.

She then told me that the recent challenges in her life have left her crabby, irritable, and impatient. And since a trusted friend of hers told her that our true character is revealed in how we respond to a crisis, crabby, irritable, and impatient must be who she really is.

I stood there under the moist blistery sky, glancing across the pizza box, sports equipment, and pads of to-do-lists, into the face of this beautiful woman, lit with the desire be of profound good in this world, and something just flew out of my mouth.

“With all due respect to your interpretation of your friend’s wisdom,” I said, “I personally believe that who we really are is the sum total of all of our finest moments in life.  You know, those moments, difficult or not,  where we shine. Everything else is a counterfeit.“

And it’s true. I do think that we are most who we really are when we shine.  I know because I’ve felt it, and I hope you have too.  Those simple moments of genuine kindness when we want the best for others with no thought for ourselves.  Just like my friend. That’s who she is, and I love her for it, and for our delightful, rainy day exchange.

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