I am feeling pretty delicate today. Actually for the past few days/week.

It began with catching up and reading posts over at Maddie's blog and feeling envy that her life seems so filled with magic and beauty. Part of me felt less than those things as I savoured her words, her poems, her photographs. The thought to turn away from this beauty, as if not knowing it would make me feel better, came up for me. But then it seemed to slap me in the face-this choice to turn away from something beautiful so I wouldn't feel so plain. Then I thought a bit more, and realized I could choose to be inspired instead. What I love so much about her is her perspective, that she treats herself to beautiful treats, she captures wonderful moments, she delights in pretty treasures. All things I admire and love about my darling Deni, who I know better, and who through our common fertility journey has shared her process and how she rises above the tears and sadness. So I realized that maybe by shifting my perspective I could bring some more of that magic to my own life. Maybe being conscious to find those things every day in my life would bring me light and joy. And they did, and now I find myself checking in for new posts by Maddie regularly as they have become another one of my beautiful magical reminders to look at the beauty around me.

Since I am being honest I will add that I also sometimes have felt envious or less than when reading Kelly Rae's blog because she is such a success, and beautiful, and lives in such a cute home, and has such a cute studio:) . Once again, I don't know Kelly very well outside her blog. I try to remind myself then as well, that she is human too, and that she works at being courageous and just keeps going forward (she also shares parts of her process on her blog). That what she has, she has created. I decide to allow these qualities to inspire me rather than fester, but sometimes it is a bit of a challenge.

So I had a good rush of great things happen as I started doing the feeling affirmations and taking risky-scary steps. An example -I thought of an idea to propose to Somerset studios and so I emailed the editor and asked if they would be interested. I was terrified but I did it. I got a quick reply that they would:)

I also was encouraged by my frister Genine to dabble in high school school senior portrait photography. At first I thought-who the heck can I get to model so I can build a portfolio? I kept imagining my successful portrait business, with this question in the back of my mind. I just chose not to listen to the doubts without countering them with good thoughts. In a day or so I started to think of all these teenagers. I contacted them and got all of the 5 lined up and scheduled for this week.

Then all of a sudden I started to feel a downward fear spiral, that I wrote about a two posts ago. Then I read a post by someone that I took personal, even though it may not have been about me. All of a sudden I had some evidence to support this deep rooted fear that when I sound happy, or spin things in a positive light, or use my blog to help me cherish the beauty and magic, that those I love will somehow be turned away by it. My "ego" or whatever you call it started rebelling and trying to theoretically pull me back. Now truly this has NOTHING to do with anyone else. It has to do with the fear that comes up for me when I am growing and changing.

So I have been moving steadily ahead, but my insecurities seem to be building with each step.

I want to be happy I want to savor and enjoy every beautiful thing.

Feeling the grief and sadness, which I feel like I did for the first two years blogging, was good and healing but it also began to feel stifling. I didn't like being around myself anymore. I was sick of being the sad one in my group of friends. The one to be sorry for. The one that had such bad luck.

It doesn't mean the pain is all gone, or that I am denying those things. What it means to me is that I have this one wild and crazy life. I want to look back on my life when I am dying and feel it was well lived. I sat with my mother - not too soon before her passing-and she looked at me and said she focused on the wrong things. The negative things-the things she couldn't control. The people who didn't or couldn't love her instead of the glorious things. This was a very very strong pivotal moment that always is in my mind when I feel tragically sad or disappointed. I want to focus on the right things, if that makes sense.

Yesterday I felt tragically sad. My Dr. office called and left a message on my cell phone, that the genetic results were in from our last miscarriage-less than two months ago. I called them back and the nurse tells me that the baby was a balanced girl-like me (this means she had my translocation ). They had so much tissue they are sure it was not my cells. She was genetically normal. Most of my miscarriages have been unbalanced. She would have grown normally-as she did the first 8 weeks, except her sac was defective and caused the loss.

This hit me much harder than I thought it would. So even though I had a senior portrait session in 2 hrs, I let myself cry. I called Genine (my husband was in an out of town meeting) and bawled and talked. I got off the phone and cried some more. But then I cleaned up and went on to my photo shoot. I allowed the joy of taking pictures to come. I felt lighter. On the way home I was tired and still felt the pain, but it was less.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that creating and appreciating goodness takes a lot of effort for me, but it is the only way I want to live this one wild and precious life I have been given. And when I am brave and do things that scare me, it seems easier to find good things, but the fear still comes, and sometimes it comes like a storm that feels burdensome and hard to escape. And there are some days like today, where I feel tired and super delicate.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver