Don’t just fly…

When I was a little girl I was enamored by Dumbo. My mother loved this movie, and became a sobbing mess at the Baby Mine scene every single time she watched the VHS.

I too loved it, at first, because she loved it. I love it now for my own reasons, and admittedly I also tear up during the traumatizing melody. I know why this song pin-pricks my heart, and find myself wishing I knew why exactly that it affected hers so much…

She was not a mother, by nature.

What if, like Dumbo and Jumbo, we had lived in the Circus? What role would I play? What role would she?

She would love the animals, true. Anyone who knows her would say that immediately… However, she wouldn’t take care of them at all, really only coddle them for her own emotional fulfillment. That job wouldn’t do. No, I imagine her (though if I could ask her, she would disagree) as something between showgirl and clown. Clown Showgirl? Would that even be a thing? She would be the ever committed guys-girl, ensuing laughter with one outlandishly ridiculous performance after another. Once the night lights were dim, however, she would cast herself as a real guys-girl in other ways… Among the circus family she would be both the most loved and hated woman around.

I know this is all true.

At first I struggled to see myself…

Dirty, neglected child of a performer? Hiding with the animals, where I made friends and found solace? I imagine a childhood of days passing without seeing my mother, and seeing more her flashes of anger and belittling than the joy inducing woman seen by others, in the ring.

I know all of this is true, as well. Strip away the tent, the spotlights and the tigers and I can honestly say I have lived this childhood. A version of it, anyway.

I cannot think of Dumbo and circus life, imagining what role (within the circus) I might play, without considering my mother. It is an emotional DNA impossibility. That being said, one day the little girl would be a grown woman. She would stay with the circus long after her mother was gone because, in ways her mother never did, the girl valued family, even when family did not value her. She would care for the animals and love them as deeply as she could love anyone. She might fall madly in love with a behind the scenes designer and life would be hard, because- well, it is life- but also, circus life is hard, and this life was all she had ever known.

As time passed, she would give of herself, enabling other performers to be their very best. She would dive in and make herself needed, focussing on her ability to create, design and grow the gifts that this show could give to their audience. She would, eyes twinkling, find her most soul filling moments were when she secretly watched the children drink in the magic of human ability, animal and wonder unfolding before them.

Probably this girl would pass away in her sleep one day, an old woman, eternally unappreciated and alone. I’d like to think that it wouldn’t matter though, because she would carry the happiness she helped others find, and that she’d found joy in this too…

(Something nags at me that this post went too dark and too deep, considering it’s about a children’s movie. If you know Dumbo, and the story, it is a deep and often dark telling of so many hard to digest topics. Just like all escapes, we see only what we choose to. It is in the acceptance of the darkest parts that we find the ability to truly love ourselves completely, which is what we’re longing for others to do anyway, isn’t it?)

My birthday is on Thursday, and I will be front and center at the first local showing of Dumbo. I know it will be amazing and I cannot wait. This gift Disney has given to me, (let a girl pretend a little) is the perfect way to usher in a new life year.

Did you ever dream of joining the Circus?

What would you have done?

Are you anticipating this movie too? Here’s the trailer to hold our excitement for a few more days!

 

From Disney and visionary director Tim Burton, “Dumbo” expands on the beloved classic story where differences are celebrated, family is cherished and dreams take flight.   Circus owner Max Medici (Danny DeVito) enlists former star Holt Farrier (Colin Farrell) and his children Milly (Nico Parker) and Joe (Finley Hobbins) to care for a newborn elephant whose oversized ears make him a laughingstock in an already struggling circus. But when they discover that Dumbo can fly, the circus makes an incredible comeback, attracting persuasive entrepreneur V.A. Vandevere (Michael Keaton), who recruits the peculiar pachyderm for his newest, larger-than-life entertainment venture, Dreamland. Dumbo soars to new heights alongside a charming and spectacular aerial artist, Colette Marchant (Eva Green), until Holt learns that beneath its shiny veneer, Dreamland is full of dark secrets.  “Dumbo” soars into theaters on March 29.

 

Website: https://disney.com/dumbo

To Build…

It is Friday and that means I am again linking up with several lovely writers over at Kate’s Five Minute Friday spot!

(If you aren’t familiar, every friday we free-write for just FIVE minutes, prompted by one word. This week’s word is BUILD.)

~

The foundation was shaky, shattered, torn.

I was broken, this I knew.

My heart lived, aimed, at the idea of a family and a home. My seventeen year old daydreams saw myself with a faceless husband doing household chores in a sleeveless t-shirt, laughing with a laugh which melted my heart. I imagined no lavish excess, just a simple roof over our heads and three beautiful faceless children. I knew they were two girls and one boy, and I knew that although I could not see their faces, this feeling they pricked deep within my core was the motivation for everything.

I sat, in a breakdown. Devastated, exhausted and so damaged from break-on-top-of-break, of my scarred girl heart. That dream propelled me forward, daring to believe there had to be something more than abandonment and loss.

And there was.

It may not have been how I had thought it would be, and it certainly was not all roses and sunset kisses, once I got there, but I did build a life, despite that terrible foundation. I learned the pain, and the redemption, in tearing out that foundation and laying a new, truth-bricked one in its place.

Together, that man (whose laugh I had dreamed up at seventeen) and I built a home. It was not composed of roof tiles and painted walls, but rather a space that moved wherever we did, warmth and rich in unconditional love, support and the freedom to grow as we needed.

This home was everything neither of us had known, as children, and just what we had needed.

~

(My inspiration for this piece is the song To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra. It is beautiful and it deserves a listen.)

Where I am…

Hello, and happy Friday. (also, happy February, finally!) It’s that time, once again, where I join the cool kids and write inspired by the Five Minute Friday prompt, linking up over at the FMF site.

Let’s dive right in, then… (Full disclosure, My dog Elenor’s squeaky toy is providing my writing music so no telling what we’ll get…)

~

Drafty old home, snow blown landscape on the outside, pear scented and filled with photos on the inside. This house I live in looks like mine, it sometimes feels like mine, but other times it feels like one more facade to pretend this life is a life that it is not.

For years I was told, well before the inauthenticity of social media was on trend, that my life was a projection of playing house. Not a real mom. Not a real marriage. Not a real ____________. Playing house- pretend. It did not feel like that then, deep in the trenches of adoptive parenting, broken hearts and trying to bleed my best into everything, only to fail miserably time and again, ending up bled dry.

Today though, surrounded by photos of moments I both remember and do not, silence filling these “empty nest” walls far more than sound- I feel like the accusations were more right and I was just the fool who was last to see it. Attempting to work through an issue I have been so overwhelmed with regarding my motherhood, one of my kids assured me that my kids don’t have to be a part of my life to keep me a mother, and if I were to die they would surely come to my funeral.

Two months later I am still not sure how to take those words, but I can honestly say the only validated the fear that it was nothing more than a role I overcommitted to, and now the show has run its course. Finito, curtain closed.

This is where I am at. It is brutal and unwelcoming, like the icy snow winds outside of this home. A life’s pursuit of motherhood feels like a forced journey that collectively those involved feel I should not have taken, but I did and now I am lost.

Where does that leave me? I don’t know.

But truthfully speaking, plain and simple, this is where I am.

~

The Convenience…

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Hello and happy Friday! (How is it that it feels like it might always be a new Friday, and yet January has lasted an eternity? Perplexing…) I am so glad you’re here! I am partnering once again with the gang over at Five Minute Friday. (new to the idea? Kate gives a prompt and we have FIVE MINUTES to free write about it, publish and share with you. :) )

~

As I observe the world, through this lens of social media and the internet, I find myself heavy by the reactive nature we have adopted.

We claim (and cling to) offense because it is easy. It is convenient to engage in wars that are not our own, simply because we believe we should. We hold high our position that our voice matters, and have decided everything might just be our business.

Our voices DO matter.

Mine does. Yours does.

They exist to tell our own stories. Through those journeys we are meant to clothe ourselves in an empathy that holds the hands of a stranger and can bridge the gaping distance between souls who are broken and alone.

Our voice was never meant to SCREAM in text at someone who believes, votes or looks differently than we do.

Horrible things happen. We disagree with recent legislation, decisions made and today’s labelling standards. Disagreeing is ok, but as a people we need to start behaving in uncomfortable and INconvenient ways… stop the hate… stop the resentment, the judgement and the attempting to demand in decibels louder than the next, that everyone else get on board and agree with our obscenity. (and let’s be frank- when we behave in such a way, hiding behind the keyboard we type on, it does not matter what our truth based foundation is, the method is nothing but obscenity.)

We were never promised an easy life filled with blessings, sans any problems. We were, however, told to love. In our guts, when we strip away layers of life, we KNOW we are supposed to love. Love is not convenient. It is not a drive-thru behavior. It is real, it may be expensive, but it is vital… Life sustaining.

This is how our voices matter because LOVE is what they were made for.

~

Under the influence…

It’s once again Friday and that means contributing to the collective writing challenge of Five Minute Friday. I’ve got my word, I’ve got my timer and my coffee so I guess that means I’m ready to go…

~

Whenever I open my mouth or take pen to paper, within the realms of my professional life, I aim to be a good influence. The thing about good though, is that it is not inherently always found within the confines of something positive. While speaking truth with love to one person, they may be receiving it as bigoted judgement based on the filters with which they are absorbing from.

It is unfair really.

I believe in accountability and owning up to what I have said or done. I see cute little memes about doing what makes you happy, following your dreams, and believing in yourself. While these are not specifically bad, they are not all that great either. Little trending catch phrases can validate one woman in her online affair, and reassure a husband in his addictions. In the end, maybe we find the defining elements of good in the places we expect to see them.( Legalistically the same could be said for bad. If we go in looking for negative, we will probably find negative.)

Pretty much everything is subjective.

My life has held countless times of me eagerly sharing a song or film which deeply moved me and served to make my life that much better, while the person whom I’m sharing it with simply can’t see it, doesn’t get it, or worse- finds something about it offensive. (subjective and offensive… the very words defining everything these days.)

The best I can do is be honest, even when it’s ugly, be vulnerably me, transparently moving forward and willing to walk alongside another. The best I can do is love, and believe that it will have a life-giving influence at some point.

~