Wistful Mothering

There is a lovely older woman who lives across the street from us. She is the matriarch of the family and her children and nieces are the trustee's to the family property we live on. She turns 60 today and we had her over for dinner on Sunday night. Nothing fancy, just some homemade pizza and beer while we watched the sunset over the Kihei peninsula. We talked a bit while the kids raced about trying to get our attention with antics and outbursts. She just separated from her 2nd husband of 17 years. He is Turkish and a whirling durvish by way of family lineage. (It is amazing to me how international this community is). Although she is deeply saddened by the separation, she continues to plan to return to Turkey where she will be teaching the whirling art to a group of Turkish women. My husband commented that he thought that the tradition was a men's tradition. She said yes it was and she was awaiting approval to do so in the fall of 2010. The evening ended with peaceful admiration of the sun setting and plans for the upcoming week.
I thought about it more during the last couple days. Of being single at age 60, traveling to teach a liberal art in a country such as Turkey. (Visions of the film Midnight Express hedge in my mind's eye).
I think of my relationship with my husband of 13 years. We will celebrate our anniversary in a week and this July it will be 18 years the we have been an "exclusive couple".
I think of being 40 and looking down the proverbial road to what may lie ahead. Many wise and wistful folks have cautioned against looking too far ahead and not appreciating the present moment. Right now we have a pre-teen in our midst and we are beginning to feel the grip loosen of what we can actually "control" in her life. She is ready to fly in so many ways, but just like the 40 or 60 year old, women today have so much to contend with. So many more choices to choose from.
I think that the archtypes of yesteryear are more evident today to me than say 10 or 20 years ago. I am in some ways, like Hera, the hearthkeeper. I love being home and cleaning and cooking, gardening and just keeping a home for my family that is peaceful and a retreat from the wide world. Some other mothers I know would never feel complete or challenged by being a homemaker. I find a spiritual art in homemaking that I could never has guessed would be my call. Family and friends who knew me as a teen would have never believed that this is what I am best and most fullfilled with. Many friends and family members are Athena's or Aphrodite's and I look to them for strength in other ways.
And so, today, my neighbor is 60 and her outlook on life reminds me of when I was 15. Motivated, youthful and making positive changes in her world, regardless of what others may think or say. I plan to continue to send my strongest intentions toward perservering as the homemaker, however unglamorous
a path it may appear.
I know in my heart that it is what I am best at, what I absolutely love to do and what will make the most positive impression upon our children & family.
I think of my daughter and her blossoming into young adulthood. How much I want to impart to her that changes happen fast and furious but no matter has fast she may travel forward in her thinking and doing, she can always rely on her feminine nature to reveal her truest self. That who she may be at 15 is not who she will remain (thank Goodness!) and that no one can quite tell what we are to become. Mostly our selves.

April is upon us

When the wind blows mists and the clouds sit upon us, the rain that follows reminds me of the cool sierra or the pacificnorthwest of california. The fog rolls in swift and sure, at the top of this eucapyltus lined gully. There sits below our place, a small log cabin circa 1913 from when this piece of land was a getaway and a 200 acre estate. There were two orignal structures, the house at the top of the hill and the cabin complete with kitchen and hearth.
There now is a smattering of homes zig-zagging up through a quiet, little hamlet. The views up top here are really serene and when the late noon ore of light, shines straight across from the Iao valley, the landscape soaks up the gold and scatteres it across the sky, in hues of periwinkle to palest rose.
This time of year, regardless of place to me, seems in such a tumultous state. Unsure of how exactly to be for the day. The breezes blow the moisture in and out. One minute blustery and the next a sunny spot on the back porch beckoning for a companion.
Most folks that have asked where we are residing say that once summer hits, the upcountry will be divine. That the coolness will melt the headstrong heat away. I look forward to the summer. The coolness of the morning taunts me to come out. It looks inviting, but with a bit of cool bite to keep me warm inside.
The day has begun and the twitterings of my neighbors are calling.
"Out ! Out ! Out ! Come outside!!!" they call.

Renewal on Maui

When we first moved here in January of this year, we blinked in disbelief that we were swimming in the Pacific ocean in the middle of winter. Our Pacific swim experiences were from the furthest northwest county of California where wet suits outnumbered bikini's and to dare to let the ocean lap at your feet meant taking a chance on losing toes to hypothermia. My youngest (a middle aged 7 year old) was traumatized slightly when a well meaning friend took her out on a surfboard to give her a kid friendly lesson. Although my child was wearing a "spring suit" in hottest month of the year, July, she came away with a solemn vow to never set foot in the sea again. The grains of sand scoured her where the wetsuit was not protecting her tender skin, the salt water left her crusty and a deep seated cold permeated her small body until I stripped her down, rolled her up in a blanket, put her in the car and blasted the heater to get the blue color from her lips to turn back to rosy pink.
Poor thing was shocked to hear that yes- we would be moving to Maui when my husband accepted a new position! While most children may have dreams of white sand beaches and surfer's heaven, my youngest had visions of spewing volcanoes, island fever set-in early and that God awful thought that she would freeze to death if she tried to swim in mother Maui's waters.
The first day we arrived we checked in to our plantation home suite, a renovated bed and breakfast (Hale Ho'okipa BnB) and slept soundly until waking to the sounds of feral chickens and roosters crowing at 4:44 a.m. We were determined to check out the ocean beaches we'd read about on many websites proclaiming Maui as the best choice for winter time island vacations.
It took some prompting to get our youngest in within a stone's throw of the ocean's edge. She was suspicious of her family's laughter and wasn't going to take chances about this supposed paradise. After sweltering in the sun for about an hour and watching her family frolick in the waves, she ventured closer. Closer still as she walked through the powdery white sand to the packed moist sand at water's edge. She let the foam touch her toes with a look on her face that reminded me of tasting an exotic dessert. You know it's supposed to taste good but no one can tell you exactly what it will taste like! Her expression went from pained to pleasure in two seconds flat. "It's warm!" she squealed and proceded to pounce in like a puma chasing a fat pheasant. When we were all finally together in the ocean, bobbing and letting the waves pull and push us in a rocking rhythm, I wanted to cry for the pure delight my body was experiencing. Childlike and pure. Honest and clean. The ocean renewed a faith that life will continue to offer immeasurable pleasure interspersed with the occasional pain, of course. But to be here now, with spring in the midst and the scent of blossoms perfuming our travels our family vision was actually materialising!
We each came away with a renewed sense of admiration and gentle awakening to the promise of what lay ahead of us on our new island home, Maui No Ka Oi! (Maui Is The Best!)