12.24.11

There is so much peace in light, isn't there? 


Maybe that's why I love the sunlight in the window thing so much. It's just serene, and beautiful.


Peace is beautiful.


I went to my mat this morning, for the first time in, well, that time period shall go unmentioned. I was seeking a bit of peace, and that was my intention I set while in child's pose.


The practice was beautiful. It was early, and I could watch the back door of the studio grow brighter as the sun rose to greet us on this Christmas Eve morning. 


At the end of class, the instructor read an excerpt from a blog posted last night on the yogahOMe website. It was written by an instructor (the beautiful Cole Imperi) who was raised both Jewish and Catholic, and in the post, she discusses light. 


I’m going to put my yogi hat on now and look at [light] in a different way. In yoga, we all have teachers. We all have someone that passed on a little ‘light’ to us. Whether that teacher is a friend, child or yoga instructor, light is passed from one person to another.



All of us, whether we’ve fallen away from our practice or never miss a class, are lights. Each and every one of us. Life is about keeping our own personal light as clear and pure as possible.

Judaism tells us that when our deepest self is challenged, our essence comes out and no force can extinguish our flame. We are all lights. Sure, we might have struggles, make a poor choice or end up in a little ‘darkness,’ but ultimately, our core is that of light and it’s just a matter of peeling the ‘darkness’ off.

The Christian Bible has a verse that illustrates this concept of light beautifully: “He that loveth his brother abideth in the light.” (1 John 2:10)

And this is what December is for me this year. A time to be light and a time to enjoy the light of others.

Go be light tonight. Shine brightly for those that have always seen it in you, and shine even brighter for those who have yet to cross your path. Be beautiful. Be peaceful. Illuminate and glow. Be radiant. And if you are having a hard time finding it, soak it up from those around you. We all have enough light to go around.  

12.23.11

We just pulled into our driveway, and through our neighbor's side door we could see her, asleep in her easy lift reclining chair, leopard Snuggie cuddled around her.


Family comes to visit every once in awhile. She's elderly, and since she had a stroke a few years ago, she struggles to move around. Occasionally the words won't form as she tells us about the squirrels she feeds. 


I made a yule log cake today. Tomorrow, I'll take her a few pieces. Maybe we will swing by Walgreen's for a new Snuggie. Maybe we will go in and visit for just a few minutes.


We all know someone like this, and it is usually this time of year that our hearts reach out, even though it should be all times of year.


Tomorrow, take just a moment to think about them. Wish for them a little bit of peace, and surely more than a little will be planted in their hearts. 

12.22.11

With only three prep days left until the big game, perhaps my readers are expecting a post about how amazing my first day off was, how much baking Will and I did together, how reflective I was about the peacefulness this time of year can bring, and then perhaps I should culminate it with a sweet Will and mom moment. 


I shall entertain you in other ways...


My first day off was, in fact, amazing (it was a day off, was it not?).


I spent the morning hours running at the gym and taking great delight in every person I passed...even if they were literally all 80 years old...and maybe one of them had a cane...but at just over six months pregnant, I get lapped like crazy in the evenings!


I then packed plenty of snacks and Will and I hit a few stores for last minute items. Ridiculous. There's a reason Will says "Jesus Christ" whenever he hears a horn, no matter the situation. His mom has a touch of road rage.


And then sweet William fell asleep nuzzled in my scarf as I read him off to dream land. I remember reading a mommy blog once, in which this mom beautifully described herself in the same situation, and her choice to leave all that needed to be done behind, close her eyes, and soak up the two hour nap cuddled with her child.


I thought about that post. I did. I even closed my eyes, took a sweet releasing sigh, soaked it all in.


And then I got the heck up because every gift needed to be wrapped and there were things to be baked! Christmas isn't waiting, people! 


Bonus, Will slept for a record list-completing three hours, and I had time to read and laugh hysterically at this blog about the coveted elf on the shelf, which, for the record, hasn't moved from its original location, nor has it been noticed, asked about, or used as a threat since the day after Thanksgiving. 


Nope, person of the year I was not today. I did not have any kind of cutesy baking moments, or sweet reflections on my place in this world (I mean, I let myself be excited about lapping grandparents). 


And I have nothing to culminate this post with except for an exhausted, worn out, going to go collapse into bed now because being a holiday hurricane is hard work and maybe tomorrow I should seek more peace.


Peace out. 

12.21.11

Happy Winter Solstice.


Each season brings change--in weather, in color, in ourselves. The transition is ready to happen if you let it, if you coax it, if you just allow it to take place.


On the first day of school this year, I looked at both of my French I classes, chock full of the kids who are the "cream of the crop," and I told them, "Look at the people around you. You might think you are in a class full of losers, weirdos, and everyone in between, and the fact of the matter is, you will all be family by the end of the year." (I blogged about last year's family of students here.)


The looks on their faces told me they thought otherwise. The looks also said, "Who the heck are you to tell me who I'm gonna like?" followed by, "You are one crazy lady." 


I sort of believed their looks. This group seemed tougher that most. They all had thick cinder block walls built up, protecting their ideas of who was Miss Popular and who was Mr. Insecure. The cliques were going to be one of my greatest challenges yet if I were going to break them up.


It started small, as it usually does. Partner work, conversation activities, group projects. I let my guard down a bit, we joke and laugh at me, and that makes it okay to laugh at themselves. "Mrs. Kauffman doesn't care what we think of her. Why do I care what this kid next to me thinks about me?" You can almost see the process from month to month, week to week, day to day.


A few weeks ago we tackled the class family tree. After observing who flirts with who, and who needs a little push to get along better with someone, I make them all marry each other, be each other's kids and aunts and grandparents. One cinder block at a time, I chip away at their walls. 


So today, as we culminated this first part of the year with our annual caroling gig to all the classrooms, I shouldn't have been surprised at their enthusiasm, at their mutual support for each other as they sang this strange French version of Jingle Bells, having planned costumes together, choreographed movements together, laughing together, and having fun together.


And I wasn't surprised.


I was floored.


Their transition from stronghold forts of personality to vulnerable and accepting individuals truly came to fruition today, on the solstice.


I had so many doubts, and yet my heart is completely at peace tonight, because I know that I've succeeded, and these families I'm building are only going to get stronger as they continue to transition and change and, well, grow up...together.

12.20.11

When I was in 10th grade, we sang this "Star light, shine bright" song at our holiday concert. It had amazing harmonies with the men's chorus that gave me goose bumps every single time we rehearsed.


The closest thing I can find is the "Star of wonder, star of might," line in God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, specifically the Barenaked Ladies/Sarah McLachlan version. I crank that one in my car like it's Livin' On a Prayer (and thank goodness Bon Jovi lives!).


Maybe it's just stars that I love...


On our way back from Atlanta a few Thanksgivings ago, we saw a falling star. It seemed to sprinkle across the sky, as though it were just for us. Feeling like a kid again, I wished with all my might for something that came to fruition just a few weeks later.


I don't credit the falling star for my wish. Perhaps I just manifested it--pun intended, maybe it was written in the stars. 


I'm sure I appear to be a high maintenance kind of traveling gal. I do prefer a hotel to a tent, and since I shower twice a day, it's necessary to have running water at my disposal.


But my next US dream trip involves a cabin in Montana, miles from anywhere, and a wide open sky full of stars--stars I've never seen before, stars too numerous to count.


And I'll lay there, staring up at that peaceful sky, and I'll think, "Star light, shine bright." 


Goosebumps for sure. 


What a vast universe it certainly is. 

12.19.11

Let's see...six days to go before the big day, and I think my Christmas Grinch finally left.


It happened about ten minutes ago. I was scooping pre-made cookie dough onto the cookie tray for my homeroom kids tomorrow (door decorating contest and peanut butter cup cookies? Yes please!), and even though my kitchen counters weren't covered in flour and the floor wasn't slippery with sugar, I found myself humming "Deck the Halls" as I carefully portioned out those tablespoons of cookie dough.


Also tomorrow? The annual French 1 yule log cakes. This year marks year number nine, and I am totally excited to see what they bring in. And eat them.


And Wednesday? The eighth year for French 1 holiday caroling. I so look forward to posting the video--the kids are really something creative this year. 


Aaah, holiday peace in my heart, welcome back!


I sit here, re-reading this post and thinking, "How is it possible that of all things, my students helped me find this holiday cheer?" 


No answer. Just lucky.

12.18.11

Today was a beautiful day. 


The bright sunshine and not-too-cold temperatures made it ideal weather for coming out of the house to walk or run, to finish shopping, to just enjoy.


My apologies to my readers who have never been pregnant, although if you've ever experienced depression of any kind, surely you can relate.


I've talked about how this pregnancy has been filled with the ol' Baby Blues. One reader related so much, that she sent me a thank you note, for making it less of a shameful, at times ridiculous, thing. 


And really, on a beautiful day like today, with no real complaints (unlike yesterday), I found myself sad sad sad. And ashamed that I was wasting such a day. (And I type this post with hesitation, not afraid of being too honest, but facing silent judgment.)


So as I lay in bed, Baby Blues crying outburst almost over, husband attentively and lovingly and patiently by my side, my greatest teacher walked to the window.


The plantation shutters were closed. 


"It's dark mama. Too dark," Will said.


In the next breath, he threw them open, as though he were performing the best magic trick in the world, as if to say, "Abracadabra! Darkness be gone!" 


Instead, he said, "And now it's not dark mama. It's bright. And sunny." 


I smiled. 


Simplistic logic from my greatest teacher.


Dark veil lifted. Magic trick a success. Peace returned to heart and mind. Baby Blues outburst finished as quickly as it began, as they so often are.


I dried my tears, and we went on with this beautiful day.