Tag: Reflections

Illuminate: Finding My Way Gently Into 2021

Posted on January 15, 2021 by Jennifer Wolfe

This is the first year I’ve put away Christmas in stages. The last to go, finally, is the mantel. It’s the lights, really that I can’t seem to take down. They illuminate and comfort me during these early grey January mornings.

This year I figured out that I could simultaneously set a timer to light the room at dawn AND dusk – a way to welcome the day and say goodbye to the evening. It was honestly game-changing, something so simple and obvious that truly allowed me to see my way into and out of the day.

To close 2020, I also added a new wreath to brighten the front door, although not many come through it these days. Battery operated white lights on the front trees, and even solar twinkle lights on the bare bushes near the driveway were all my small attempts at lighting up such a dark year. A way to say hello to 2021, wishing for more light, more joy; a way to remember that all hope is not lost.

2020 forced a profound dive into the deepest parts of my self. COVID, wildfires, and distance teaching require an examination of the physical and mental spaces I live in and what I want my world to be and do and show.

Illuminate

I quickly realized it’s light. Light prompted an urgency to explore the binary need to look so intently into everything hiding within to really SEE, and the illumination to slow down and be present to what is already HERE.

It’s been years since we’ve seen the tule fog around here – used to be that kind of mist was commonplace when I was growing up. We learned to drive slowly, to concentrate, to pay attention. Tule fog is deceptive; one minute you can see clearly, the path obvious, and the next you’re sunk into the midst of obscurity.

Just when I noticed I missed it, it’s back. It’s grey, calm, and oddly quiet when I take my morning walk. I’m required to look intently around me to what’s coming into view, attentive to what’s hiding within me that I need to see. Now, the mornings open their opaque arms wide, the sun determinedly popping melon-colored aura behind the trees.

All things are inventions of holiness.
Some more rascally than others.
-Mary Oliver

These mornings are neither dark nor light, clear nor completely obscured, just intriguing enough to keep searching. Fog-walking forces me to find my way, helps me move forward, or when it becomes too much, sends me home to a cup of tea and a good book.

I naively thought 2021 would be a fresh start, desperate to leave behind the pain of a year that brought us to our knees. Quickly, I’m reminded that it often gets worse before it gets better and that as I walk those foggy streets I have a new day no matter what, a day to just start over and pay attention to the illumination just ahead. And as Mary Oliver said, a reminder that “all things are inventions of holiness”.

The Wren From Carolina

by Mary Oliver

Just now the wren from Carolina buzzed

through the neighbor’s hedge

a line of grace notes I couldn’t even write down

much less sing.

Now he lifts his chestnut colored throat

and delivers such a cantering praise–

for what?

For the early morning, the taste of the spider,

for his small cup of life

that he drinks from every day, knowing it will refill.

All things are inventions of holiness.

Some more rascally than others.

I’m on that list too,

though I don’t know exactly where.

But, every morning, there is my own cup of gladness,

and there’s that wren in the hedge, above me,

with his blazing song.

https://www.anythinklibraries.org/blog/poetry-picks-wren-carolina-mary-oliver

primark

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Impermanence, COVID and This Present Moment

Posted on November 19, 2020 by Jennifer Wolfe

It starts again with the breath, the in and out that we rarely pay attention to. The impermanence of breath, the pause at the top of the breath in, the pause at the bottom of the exhale.

Somehow, every time I close my eyes, breathe deeply and ground myself, the breath brings thoughts of the impermanence of life – of me, of those I love, the job I do, the dog by my side, the moment. Tears trickle silently as I try to focus on anything else – usually unsuccessfully.

Thich Nhat Hanh says, “It is not impermanence that makes us suffer. What makes us suffer is wanting things to be permanent when they’re not.”

Is this just another way of saying I’m middle-aged? That from now on, the shift from what I know is true and solid is somehow slipping into something more supple, more pliable? Is impermanence permanent?

My county, along with most of California, and increasingly, states across the country, find ourselves locked down again. The COVID ‘break’ that many people took is coming full circle, the relief of impermanence from the virus, just for a fleeting second, now takes an ominous turn. The permanence of family gatherings, of kids coming home for the holidays, of snuggling together on a rainy day in front of the fire now feels different. Less joyful, more anxious. The thought that Thanksgiving will always be a time for togetherness is certainly tucked away this year. I watch the line for my neighborhood COVID testing wind around buildings and parking lots, extending blocks and blocks on a sunny afternoon. The media reminds me incessantly to be safe, this won’t be forever.

Breathing in, my happy place – Carmel, CA with mom.

The permanence of the death counts, the positivity rates, the inescapability assault our senses. Shake our security. Heighten our fear.

Impermanence today

Kobe Bryant’s tragic death sure reminded many of us of life’s impermanence – do you remember back to January, pre-COVID? Twitter feeds and the thousands of posts on Facebook of him smiling with love at his daughter, and you can’t help but feel it. Reminders to just ‘tell someone you love them’ or ‘don’t hold back’ feel genuine and true…but also far too simplified.

Now, our vulnerable worry about going into the hospital and never coming out.

Turns out the Kobe messages may have been a somber prelude to the rest of 2020.

Life just isn’t that easy right now. We don’t always remember when we should. We cut people off in traffic and push for the shortest line at the grocery store, even when the person behind us has less to purchase. In our own little bubbles, we forget to lift our eyes to the server behind the counter and don’t take the time to write teachers a thank you or to send a quick text telling a friend how much they mean to us. Those who have gone before us are lost in a daily rush of to-do lists, rather than altars.

The present moment

How often do we notice the pause between the breath – the ending of the inhale, just before the beginning of the exhale? Do we forget to stop, to honor beginnings and endings, each extraordinary moment of our lives?

On a beautiful blue sky afternoon, I heard an unexpected whhhhooooossssssh and saw this out my window.

Impermanence is life. Nothing lasts, despite our resistance. We fight change, instead of embracing it. It’s unavoidable, yet we try to avoid change at every opportunity. We want our kids to ‘stay this age forever’ and wonder ‘how did the time go so fast’ when they celebrate their birthdays. We can be standing in line at the post office, on an ordinary day, and look up and see that suddenly we are the oldest one in the room. Perhaps the only one wearing a mask.

Or we can watch our parents die, gracefully slipping from the permanent place in our lives to somewhere much freer.

Planted narcissus after my dad died last fall…as they sprout, the robins return with moments of joy.

Much more impermanent.

Like the flow of the river or the breath of wind on our cheek, nothing stays – especially this instant, this presence in this exact moment is all that we have.

This present moment is all that is permanent. Let us begin our appreciation right here, right now.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Worrying

Posted on September 21, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Rainbow by Cameron Wolfe

“I think these difficult times have helped me to understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way and that so many things that one goes around worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.” – Isak Dinesen

Something to think about…

What are you spending your energy worrying about, instead of noticing the richness and beauty of life right around you?

Jennifer Wolfe

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An ‘aha’ moment

Posted on September 11, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Clarity (Photo credit: fs999)

I had an ‘aha’ moment the other day – you know what I mean? That moment when some obscure part of your reality clicks into some sort of connection with another seemingly obscure part of your brain, and for just a brief second – longer if you’re lucky – you experience clarity.

I just started into my 23rd year of teaching middle school, so actually, the very idea that I could see anything clearly at this moment is something just short of miraculous. But it was in that early, pre-dawn moment when in an attempt to combine first sips of dark roast with some sort of sense of center, that I stumbled on an article on Daily Good about Gary Klein’s book, “Seeing What Others Don’t”. My sleep-deprived eyes fell into focus and I enlarged the article to ‘read more’….and what I saw really made sense.

Gary Klein believes that we can ‘train our brains’ to see, providing us with insight into, perhaps, something that the poor soul sitting next to you at the cafe might be blind to. Klein broke up his insights into five beliefs, and as I devoured the article, I realized my ‘aha’ right there in the dark morning.

Be Curious.

Ah, this speaks to my academic soul. Perhaps that’s why I’ve loved teaching middle school, the age many think is unteachable – because curiosity hasn’t been killed in their early teenage minds. I’ve realized lately that I place a high value on curiosity. My friends are curious – not necessarily about the same things as I, but they move through their days questioning, wondering, thinking. And they make me do the same.

Candle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Let Your Mind Wander.

Right now, my life is stuffed to the brim. I teach, I mother, I write, I serve. I often feel exhausted at the end of the day. The curious part is, when I start (and hopefully end) my days with a moment of quiet, of stillness, of centering, somehow the overwhelm retreats. Often it happens out in nature, either on my bike on the way to work, a walk with my son at dusk, or digging in my flowerbed. I remember a professor at Cal who first exposed me to the idea of ‘centered-ness’, and my grateful soul goes back to her on a regular basis.

Pay Attention To Coincidences.

I used to just say, ‘huh’ when I had those moments of coincidence-until my babies, husband and I got smashed into by a drunk driver. At that moment, I realized that not only was there a reason we all weren’t more seriously injured than we were, but that it was no coincidence that my injury kept me from going to a job I was becoming frustrated with. When I stopped and realized that the ‘smashing into’ that happened literally was a sign that I needed to wake up and take control over my life’s direction. Once I started paying attention, looking closely, and thinking about what was happening in my life, I realized that those coincidences were really messages in disguise for me to puzzle out.

Look Closely At Contradictions.

One of my favorite quotes is by Maya Angelou: “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.” When people present themselves in contradiction to what I know, or what I thought I know, I’m training myself to look closely. It’s a fine line between thinking about one’s options and living in a state of ‘what if’, but I’ve found that when I really stop and pay attention to that which doesn’t seem to be logical, somewhere in the mess of hypothesis and doubt comes clarity.

Act On Your Insights.

Tree reflection (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

This is perhaps the most challenging, yet powerful, step of them all. Self-reflection, centering, thoughtfulness, and curiosity can all take a solitary form – but if these insights, these ‘aha’ moments are to really become powerful forces in our lives, we must walk the talk. For me, it sometimes takes a supreme leap of faith to act on what I’ve discovered-and sometimes, a huge dose of courage as well. Insights aren’t always easy, I’ve learned, but using my voice, using my writing, modeling for my students and my children what I know to be true has gently layered a ladder of confidence that breathes power into my every step. I know I can act. I know I can change, and I know that when I do, I feel the giddiness of slipping into my true self.

So as Gary Klein shares, I believe we can train our brains to see what other’s don’t. We can harness curiosity, relax into wonder, and pay attention to that which at first glance, might not make sense. If we look closely at what’s going on around us, pay attention to the signals, and act rather than react, amazing things can happen.

Go with your gut. Step off the curb, and trust yourself. You might just be amazed with the results.