blogging from my phone on the way to salt lake (but i'm not driving)

thanks to everyone for a great Women's Conference experience! It was fun to meet you (and your sisters) and I am a bit sorry for what was surely the most irreverent session of the conference.

But what did you expect?




Love from the mobile freeway (and Interstate I-15)


email me: cjanemail@gmail.com

blogging from my phone while getting my hairdid

I loved Kate's dress.


Cherrio!


email me: cjanemail@gmail.com

Where You Prom?

The clear advantage to having over forty cousins is when it's prom night and you don't have a date, there's always a cousin who will consent to go with you. And you can leave your charm and grace at home because she/he already knows you're a goof ball at heart.

Kids these days...




*photo of niece Emily Clark, nephew Clark Checketts in my kitchen this past prom weekend


email me: cjanemail@gmail.com

Ruling My Kingdom

There are four ideas motivating my parenting persuasion currently. Each thought came from three of my friends. I seem to think about them daily, they are my current mantras. Maybe you agree, maybe you disagree, but at this very point in my life I find these options of operation completely helpful:


From Bryn- We are a family that works. When my children wake up they know we will be working (housework, school work, gardening, etc) and they have a choice, to work along side me or find something to do by themselves. When the work is done we play, but I don't entertain my kids all day.

From Sarah- When life isn't pleasant there are only two things to be done, make a change or change your perspective.  

From Sarah (again)- Our children have it good. Really good. Stop worrying whether or not you are giving them enough, especially when you have to get things accomplished not involving their immediate happiness. They are extremely blessed.

From Kathy- If the baby is crying and your kitchen is a mess, let the baby cry and clean the kitchen.

(My mom totally disagrees with this one above, but I think there is something to establishing order-- eliminating distractions to give more directed attention. Also, it depends why the baby is crying and how dirty the kitchen is, right?)

Excuse me, it's time to puke. Seriously.




And while I do that . . .
 
Now that Easter is over, you are starting to think about Mother's Day, yes? Kirk Richard's Mother and Child masterpieces on print are available until the end of May. They are gorgeous, for a good cause and completely unique. And your mom told me she wants one. Go here.

&

Hot dog! Not only am I speaking with my sisters at  BYU Women's Conference this Friday, I am also sitting on a panel for the American Mothers Inc National Convention in Salt Lake this Saturday. Our panel will discuss two things dear to my heart, mothering and social media. If that sounds like your cup of tea, you can read about it here.


*photo of me by Justin Hackworth photography--check out the 30 Strangers project.

email me: cjanemail@gmail.com

Back to This

This past year Chup and I worked side-by-side at home, on the computer, in meetings and on the road. We equally took care of babies and business, having lunches and nap times. It was quite the year.

Now Chup is gone five days a week, working long hours as a segment producer for a movie. For the past few weeks I've been the main show, the diaper changer, the cook, cleaner and toddler entertainer. I've returned to my roots as the epic stay at home housewife who struggles to maintain the homestead and keep the posterity alive (whilst growing another one internally). Forget POTUS, this is the biggest job in the world--the responsibilities are vast, the days are long and it can be a bit lonely sometimes.

BUT, I had forgotten how much I love it--the daily challenge of body, spirit and mind. The rewarding moment at the end of the day when all is quiet and rest is mine reminds me--this is holy work.

I am happy.



email: cjanemail@gmail.com

Scenes from Easter

Scenes From A Birthday

Parenting With Integrity

I hate to say we own that playground, but we kinda do.

We are there so often it has become an alternate universe for us. The whole structure is a boat floating in a sea of tomato-sauce colored lava. It boasts six evacuation slides, two pilot ports and sleeping structures for an entire crew. And of course, there are the two active volcanoes--a dangerous red one and an oxygen-rich blue one--ready to "ewupt" at any moment. Thanks to these majestic landmarks we now have our own nicknamed excursion, "Canoes" short for volcanoes. As in, "Can we play Canoes?"

So as you can see, it's not just another playground. It's our escape from suburbia. We take it seriously. And when other children join us we are quick to envelop their characters into our game. "You, look out for the swarm of lava eating sharks making their way here in 0200 hours. We will need to stir the ship due west!" We've never had a friend go home disappointed (or non-depleted of energy, you're welcome parents) after an afternoon of Canoes.

Which is why it took us back a little when a boy, about six came wondering into our territory the other day. The Chief greeted him with a hearty "Hi!" and then about four more "Hi!"s which the child completely ignored.

Ignoring the natives, not a good first impression.

But children are shy and children are scared, and I allowed for all the many reasons why the kid wouldn't simply engage until he turned around and with a puffed chest and an angry look across his entire being, crouched down into my son's face and yelled,

"WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?"

Now every parent has a playground story right? I've heard them. Lots of them. There are some injustices in this world of little people. And my son certainly has picked on his own cousins and nursery mates. I am not ignorant of how this world works. But boy, did it surprise me how ticked I was that this kid could be so cruel. IN OUR WORLD OF MAKE BELIEVE IN ALL PLACES.

I mean, the Christian parent that I want to believe I am went right out the window to my soul. While The Chief thought nothing of the rebuff, I continued to puff and puff until I did something I am not proud of.

I lied.

I called to my son, "Hey we need to go home so you can ride that motorcycle Daddy built for you."

See kid? We're cool. We don't need your junk in our faces. We have motorcycles.

The kid looked over at me.

Ahhh. It's working.

"What?" The Chief asked, armpits stretching from a metal bar, his body hanging like the monkeys we have to clear off the boat from time-to-time.

"Or...would you rather ride the helicopter Daddy made you?"

Which is when the kid zoomed off to meet up with his own dad on the swing set. Sadly, even in victory I didn't feel the thrill of revenge I had hoped to create. And there's the very problem with dishonesty.

The other problem is that I had a WHOLE LOT of explaining to do as we buckled Ever in the stroller and headed home.

"Motorcycle Mom? Huh?"

"Where's copcopter? Huh Mom?"

Go Tell It On The Rooftop

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Two days ago I was putting my children into the car when I saw out of the corner of my eye two men approaching my home.

Was it the FBI?

The IRS? (Not yet! Hopefully! Happy Tax Day America!)

Them Mormon Missionaries?

No, no and no. It was Stuart Maxfield front man for Fictionist and Jacob Jones, piano man.

I jumped a little. I mean, it's not every day those two show up at my house mid-morning. We talked for awhile about how busy their schedule is these days, how grateful they were for my readers helping them in their contest  (again, thank you) and who is their fiercest competition in the competition. And then I remembered, I haven't shared my big news yet. I mean, the big news about how our Rooftop Concert Series starts next month and how Fictionist is starting us off and how excited I am.

I haven't shared that news, have I?

See here:


Thanks to Vivint our sponsors for this concert. Vivint is a company that specializes in making Smart Homes--or as I call it, Jetson-izing your house. More about that later, but they were our first sponsor signed up and excited to go. I could kiss the entire company. I could.

And Paul Jacobsen and the Madison Arm? Chup and I feel confident we'd travel to the ends of the earth to hear them play.  Watching the master Bishop Pat Campbell on drums is enough to make you young again. This line up is a golden winner of maximum listening enthrallment. How's that?

So there it is, my big announcement. We've been hard at work (J. Hackworth, Mindy Gledhill, Sarah Wiley and I) for months and months and months. And months. It's nice to see things coming together.

And speaking of Mindy Gledhill, I wish her and the entire Basa crew the best of luck as they embark to Africa today. I couldn't join them this time, as I am in no condition to travel to the mall much less a continent away. I asked my sister Page to write a post about the experience upon their return. Did I tell you Page is going? Lucky girl.

Okay so next week I am going to write a post about coming to my son's honor at the playground yesterday. Now there's some good stuff to look forward to...



See the entire Rooftop Concert Series line up RIGHT HERE!!!
We're also on facebook here.
And Twitter here.

Happy Weekend!


(For the vlog lovers out there, I am sorry. As soon as I don't feel like a particle of ship wreck I'll be back on camera. For better or worse....)

The Choices Have Been Made

Friends of the Blog,

Another letter?

I am sitting here wondering how do I collectively thank thousands of people all at once.

Not only did you help me with Fictionist voting (even my sister Lucy voted!) but also for helping Kirk and me out with the Mother and Child project. Thanks for helping us choose the paintings for the Mothers Day Cards and fine art prints. The announcement has been made and choices picked.

You can go here to find out which ones won and start shopping . I know I might be a wee bit partial but I think they'd make perfect gifts for the women in our lives--anyone who has a mother or is a mother (shouldn't that just about cover us all?). And amazing prices for prints of original work, I will also add. (But I will now stop because I don't want to get sell-ish).

I feel this is such was such a worthy project because:

• The opportunity to collaborate with an artist I admire and appreciate is so very exhilarating.
• The theme was very close to my heart and I suspect close to many of my readers as well.
• It was thrilling for me to expose new lovers of art to Kirk's work.
• Half of the proceeds will go towards a really cool cause, Camp Kesem--for kids whose parent's have/have had cancer.

This will always be one of the highlights of my blogging career. Again, thank you. I have always thought that the best way I could thank any reader is to promise my best writing here every time you click on my blog. I don't always make it, but I am trying. I am trying because you are so generous. That's the truth.

Love me (again),
C. Jane

p.s. I wrote a post last year about being a mental hoarder. It ends with a garage sale. I think you might be interested in some of the ticketed items. I don't even know what that means, but you can read it here.

Oh Hey You,

You look gorgeous today. 

Just like the Hope of Spring. I am serious. Is that a new set of energy you're wearing? I can tell, it's radiant. I bet there isn't a cloud in your sky today, it's all sunny and daffodils.

What?

Can't I flatter you a bit?

Huh?

Ok yes, yes I am trying to butter you up. See my friends (the band) Fictionist, the nicest guys in the world, are fighting for a chance to be on the cover of Rolling Stone and the competition is fierce. (Fierce like you, grrrrr girl!) They need us to rate them 5 STARS before the end of Wednesday so they can advance in the competition.

You are 5 STARS in my book (just so we're clear).

Listen, they aren't paying me to put this up on my blog. They aren't giving me any sort of back-end back stage pass. I am just a true fan doing what true fans do. (On a related note, I am also a fan of yours.)

If you have one little itty bitty second will you (pretty) please (with sugar and lollipops on top) go vote for them?

You will?

You will?

Oh my Sunbeams, thank you thank you thank you.

Rate them 5 STARS by going here.

(It takes 2 teeny seconds to vote!)

(And I was serious about everything I said, previously, above, about you, you know, HUGE FAN.)

Also, here is their latest video filmed by your favorite guy (he loves you too, I'm sure) Jed Wells:

Behold Your Little Ones

Last week I realized it had been a long time since I'd really looked into my children's faces.

I mean, really looked.

It was during a General Conference message by Jean A. Stevens who mentioned really looking into our children's faces and seeing them as they are and will become. Certainly I look at my children all day long. I look at them when they need me, when I feed them, bathe them and put them to bed. (Though not enough for their liking--they both have easily picked up the skill of turning my chin so I will look at them when they want my attention.)

But really soaked in their faces, their spirits? It had been awhile.

This week both of my babies were sick. There was nothing to be done but hold their hot, sweaty bodies--victims of actual spring fevers and massage their little feet (we call massages "nice" in our family, The Chief says, "Mom, I want nice.") Because they weren't moving at nearly the speed of which they normally function I could actually sit and look in their faces, examine their limbs and feel their souls.

And for the first time I noticed the tone of Ever's eyes--they are like the color of a cherry chocolate cake. And how her nest of feather hair is starting to curl softly in the back. She has a triangle birthmark, so very slight on her lower leg and speaking of those legs, they are growing long like Daddy's. And she's a sweetheart--a content little human with a strong helping of independence and an adoration for her father.

All of these discoveries surprised me, but none so much as the moment when I rocked my shivering, tired daughter in the rocking chair. Her fast breathing slowed down until deep gusts were coming out of her open mouth. She was asleep, finally. I rocked her for a bit longer before I attempted transitioning her into the crib. Only before I could stand, she awoke and sat suddenly straight up in my lap. For an intense second, she looked straight into my eyes as if she was remembering me. Without changing her fixated gaze, she then unraveled a hand out of her silky blanket and sweetly pinched my cheek like a Grandma to her offspring.

Then she turned her head and resumed heavy sleeping on my chest.

I need to look into my children's faces so they can see mine looking back at them. In that tiny second of non-verbal contact a massive impact of love is transmitted. I've never felt anything like it.

SGPS: Joy McMurray's Of Eowyn, Dragons, and Healing

It’s one of my favorite parts of the story . . .

Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. “I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,” she said; “and behold! The Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.”

Isn’t that beautiful? In this moment Eowyn, a princess in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, finally finds her healing after desperately searching for it in many places. Her story reminds me where to find healing when it is hard to come by.

Eowyn is not a typical princess—she is beautiful, yes, but also stern and sad. Her country and family are falling apart, she’s tormented by a creep who lusts after her, and her efforts to help her people are stifled by a foolish king and the limitations on women’s roles in her society. She feels trapped, alone, and desperate, and her self-worth deteriorates. (Perhaps some of this sounds familiar?) Or, as Tolkien puts it, “Who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?” Tolkien, I think, knew something about mental anguish.

Eowyn tries a variety of approaches to break out of her cages and her despair. First she attempts to attach herself to a brave, noble, and busy man (who, sadly, is not available), but that does not heal her. She fulfills her duty and leads her people to safety, away from an invading army, but that does not heal her. Next she breaks through the prescribed gender roles, donning the gear of a warrior and riding to battle. In an explosion of courage and love, Eowyn protects her imperfect king, standing alone against a dragon and the nightmare that rides it, when all others are overcome with fear. But even beating the men at their own game and gaining fame and honor do not bring relief for Eowyn. A good king heals her battle wounds, but not her heart-wounds. Finally, a great evil is defeated and the world is set right in many ways, but still Eowyn is ice and steel, bitter and alone.

What finally makes a difference is Eowyn’s choice to stop fighting against the cages she has already broken and decide, “I will be a healer.” From that moment, her own healing begins in earnest. It allows her to give and receive love more fully, and it allows her to truly look beyond herself, which she had been trying to do all along, and to build rather than tear down.

Whether you love Tolkien’s brand of fantasy or not, I think there is truth in Eowyn’s experience. Somehow, in healing others, we ourselves really do find healing. Time is a great healer, but so is turning outward. This lesson has been taught in many ways through the history of the world, but for some reason I prefer to learn it through Eowyn’s story.

So, I think of her when I am most desperate for help and healing. I think of her in the moments when I am pushed to the absolute outer reaches of what I can handle. One of my dragons to slay came when I was near crazy after my second child was born. I loved her so much, but the lack of sleep and lack of control had me mentally losing it all the same. So, with thoughts of Eowyn, I tried to be a healer. I deliberately would look around me each day to see someone with a need, and I would try to help heal that need. And it worked. My own healing was quickened, and there were more moments I could see above the fog. If I look around me for others with dragons and cages to fight (and we all have them), then my own dragon’s fire loses its heat.



Joy is a mother of two and wife to Joey. She's a devoted mother, thinker and writer. She's also fantastic, you can even ask her mom. Thanks to Joy and daughter Clara for the use of the previously posted puff-ball dress.

One For The Money, Two For The Show

Last week the lady folk in my family engaged in a husband-less, child-filled night of talking and teasing (and some really corny jokes Steph found on her phone). In between fetching runaway babies and cooling a few hot spots with the toddler crowd we actually had a pretty decent conversation.

Perhaps the point we all agreed upon this semi-annual meeting was the thought that the days of huge families (eight, nine, ten, The Duggars) are over. I mean, sure there will always be women who want to brave the fertile trenches of their time (and please know I salute those women, I consider being born one of nine one of the best things that ever happened to me). But it seems with a life more complicated, and choices more extreme, and lifestyles more intense it lends itself to smaller family sizes. In short, I don't think parenting is as simple as it used to be.

And let's be honest. I grew up in the heart of Mormondom, five kids is average to me. Six is getting big. But it's not huge until there are two sets of four. That's two whole big families in one (check my math).

While I was the one who actually stated, "The era of big families might be over," I didn't realize how soon I'd find out why. Today I took my sister's children for awhile. That meant for a few hours I had six kids. Do you know the noise and energy level six kids attracts?

Ants? Maybe.

Other children. More children. Children from around the neighborhood hopping over the back fence. Suddenly six kids turns into nine. Lightening quick too. You know what I am talking about, don't you?

Then, nine children get snacky all at once. So suddenly I wasn't feeding my original two, no, I am finding Popsicles in the deep recesses of my freezer (bent over, arms swallowed up in the halibut from last summer and seven bags of edamame) for nine children. I was lucky I could even find nine, much less meet the color-preferences of all the Easily Disappointed.

Then they wanted to play Ninjas and I got the (coveted) role of MASTER. Master's job is to make up imaginary tasks to keep the Ninja force busy, loyal and benevolent. ("Master! I have completed the task you ask me to do, what next?" times nine, times nine again).

Now, I am not complaining. I love it more than anything. I find that before I had embarked upon parenthood, I had grossly miscalculated the actual body count. There is no consideration for the extra humans that become attached to your own children. I have my son, I have the twins next door, I have their best friend from two houses down. I have a party in my Green Room.

I always wanted a huge family of my own, but truthfully I don't think I am headed towards that adventure. And maybe this is why the era of big families are over. It's not that I don't see the beauty of an increase in posterity, I am just beginning to realize how much that increase increases and multiplied by the demands of the day I am also starting to see my limits. BUT I see now how I can help raise, love and care for many kids.

In fact, it became apparent to me today it might be good to have some spare space in my life for the children who come to my house daily. Also, extra string cheese, green apples and new ninja assignments (for starters). Maybe I won't birth eight kids, but that doesn't mean there won't be room if eight show up around dinner time.

All I am saying is this: if it takes a village, I'm leaving some room in my hut.



*photos taken of Page's eight children, the day her oldest Layton went into the MTC last month. So fun!

Janna Dean, Weight Doesn't Matter

 For several years (and many different scale weights) I've been seeking to heal myself of body image discrepancies. I have found a higher source in my friend and neighbor Janna Dean. Her thoughts are radically different from Yahoo's Front Page news sources on Losing Weight and Being Healthy. But in listening to her ideas I have come a long way. Janna will be writing monthly posts for me this year, we hope to help others who might have the same challenges. Enjoy! -C. Jane

“We have, in effect, an Eleventh Commandment.  We have come to believe thinner is healthier, happier, and more beautiful as though it were handed down on Mount Sinai.  But these are not divine truths—they are prejudices with a complex history.  They have led to a false religion that does not deliver what it promises.”

--Roberta Pollack Seid, Never Too Thin: Why Women Are at War with Their Bodies

This religion has a fervent (and large) community of believers that adheres to strict commandments and a moral code about food, exercise, and weight.   The strict adherence to these beliefs promises success, happiness, acceptance, and peace.  When the code is violated these believers are left with feelings of guilt for transgression, self-judgment, and shame.  Believers spend an enormous amount of time, money, and physical and emotional energy devoted to the code.  And if I express thoughts contrary to this Eleventh Commandment I am seen as a heretic. 

“The belief that thin people live healthier, [happier], and longer lives than heavy people is so deeply rooted in our culture and medical mind set that it is seldom questioned. . . . At the moment, ‘thinner is healthier’ is the popular gospel; anything else is heresy.”

--Glenn A. Gaesser, Big Fat Lies: The Truth About Your Weight and Your Health

Defensiveness, fear, shock and uncomfortable silence often follow my thoughts and beliefs when I speak or write about food, bodies, and weight.  Sometimes, well-intentioned individuals come to my rescue, “It’s not as if you’re saying weight doesn’t matter. . . You’re saying that you are loveable no matter what you weigh.”  Well, yes.  And NO.  I am saying that you are loveable and valuable no matter what you weigh.  I am also saying that WEIGHT DOESN’T MATTER.  There I said it.  Now I’m bracing myself for the onslaught. 

When discussing religion or politics, we can cling to our beliefs with such passion that the bearer of contrary ideas is received as an enemy.  New or contrary information is ignored because it can shake our foundation.  But if we have the courage to scrutinize this religion we will find that it is leading us down a path that is both physically and psychologically destructive.

Low body weight has become a symbol of good health, fitness, and self worth—but in actuality is a poor measurement of all three.  Nevertheless, we have spent many decades chasing after this substitute goal which, unfortunately, continues to be supported by medical doctors, dietitians, scientists, insurance companies, teachers, you name it.  “Thinner is healthier” and “obesity is dangerous” is embraced as common sense.  If we challenge those obvious “truths” we are seen as heretics. 

And while it may seem obvious that thinner is healthier, new (and old) research tells a different story if you are willing to listen.  Are you willing to listen?

Take the often used statistic that obesity is the second leading cause of preventable death (next to smoking) in the United States—responsible for “300,000 deaths annually.”  Since 1995, variations of this statistic have been cited at the Food and Drug Administration hearings, in the New England Journal of Medicine, the Journal of the American Medical Association, the American Dietetic Association, and Newsweek. 

So where does that statistic come from exactly?  Most of you have heard it before, and if you haven’t, you’re sure to hear it in the future.  The cited source for the 300,000 deaths statistic comes from a paper published in 1993 entitled, “Actual Causes of Death in the United States” which asserts that the 300,000 deaths per year were related to “diet/activity patterns” (not obesity).   Sometimes, in some people, poor diet and exercise patterns lead to obesity.  It is generally assumed obesity is a direct result of poor diet and exercise.  It is, sometimes.  And sometimes, it’s not.  Studies of adopted versus natural children show that obesity is primarily inherited. 

So, like poor health, obesity can sometimes be the outcome of diet/activity patterns, but weight alone is not a determining factor for health.  Gaesser explains research indicates that men and women who are considered “overweight” or “obese” and exercise regularly are actually “physically fit and have lower all-cause death rates than thin men and women who do not exercise.” 

Did you know that chronic dieting can cause serious health problems?  Research indicates that weight loss does not necessarily improve health or lengthen life.  In fact, dieters, especially yo-yo dieters, have a risk for cardiovascular disease and type 2 diabetes that is up to twice that of “overweight” people who remain fat. 

And the body mass index?  Do some research, find out where that originated and developed.  Does it make any sense to think that a height and weight calculation can give you an accurate understanding of your health?

Let’s leave the false religion and adopt the true science of dieting.  Weight is not a reliable indicator of health.  Nutrition and regular exercise are.  Thin people do not have a monopoly on health and fitness.  Bodies of all shapes and sizes can be fit and healthy.  The bottom line:  Forget weight loss and work on healthy eating and moderate exercise.  Body type is determined by genes.  But exercise and nutrition are determined by you. 

Suggested Readings:

-                      Big Fat Lies: The Truth About Your Weight and Your Health by Glenn A. Gaesser

-                      Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Program That Works by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch

-                      The Rules of “Normal” Eating: A Commonsense Approach for Dieters, Overeaters, Undereaters, Emotional Eaters, and Everyone in Between!  by Karen R. Koenig

-                      The Obesity Myth: Why America’s Obsession with Weight is Hazardous to Your Health by Paul Campos

-                      How to Get Your Kids to Eat. . .But Not Too Much—From Birth to Adolescence by Ellyn Satter

-                      Health At Every Size: The Surprising Truth About Your Weight by Linda Bacon

Janna Dean LCSW is a practicing therapist specializing in treating eating disorders and other addictions. She is the mother of two four-year-olds, loves camping and making cookies for her neighbors. Her neighbors really appreciate it. Cause they are good cookies.

April!

Photo Jed Wells

Entre vous Avril!

Just as spring was going about sprunging this weekend--the shaky daffodils rising like toddlers beginning to walk and forsythia bushes blooming without reservation--an unrelenting snowstorm moved in overnight. In an absolute ambush, spring was squashed by the after-taste of winter. But this is April at its best, surprising, striking and totally unstable.

It's cliche I know, but I can't stop the saying to myself the old adage, April showers bring May flowers. It seems to be a theme in my life right now, the enduring of what must happen today for the beautiful surprise of tomorrow. (And I use the word enduring because I like it, not because it sometimes means torturous circumstances.)

Oh the May flowers of our lives! They are so worth it.

And so while it storms I've decided to use this time to unplug.

A couple of years ago I had a vision of me walking around my neighborhood completely wrapped up and tangled in all sorts of wires that were connected into my consciousness. I was plugged into all sorts of ideas, opinions and beliefs that weren't connected to myself, they were connected to other people, institutions and cultural mores. I could hardly move on my own. I shuffled at best.

I realized this vision was trying to tell me that I was in a mental bondage. I had so many unoriginal, untrue, unhelpful ideas from haphazard sources I couldn't progress. I had also willingly plugged myself into other's dramas, their anger and their choices I couldn't distinguish them from my own. Not only could I not move, I couldn't hear truth.

So I started to unplug. I ripped those wires out of me one by one with the power of determination and desperation. Some plugs were unkind things people had said about me, some were opinions that were antiquated, some were just feelings planted in hopelessness. Each unplugging left me a little bit more mobile, until finally I could move freely.

I went about on my own and it felt incredible. I realized though I wasn't plugged into anything, I could feel revelation and direction. It came from inside of me. It was God speaking truth to my spirit.

Every once in awhile that vision comes back to me and I say to myself, "Start unplugging." And though it feels so good, to sit and mentally take the challenge of letting all those wires go, it amazes me how quickly I find myself wrapped up in those long, black cords again. Sometimes before thoughts actually connect, I have to warn myself, "Don't let that one plug in."

So April, snow, shower, wind all you want. I'll be home spring cleaning the many layers of consciousness, cleansing out the grime of my mind, preparing myself for May. Flowers and freedom.

And the best news of my entire week! J. Kirk Richards has finished his beautiful Mother and Child project. Now it's our turn to decide which card should go to print for Mother's Day cards--50% of the proceeds will go towards Camp Kesem--a camp for children whose parents have/had cancer. (I can't even write about this whole project without goosebumps on my fingers and up my arms.)
Will you do something for me?
Will you go to Kirk's blog and look at all the paintings?
And vote?
And get goosebumps of your own?

Personally, I love #5, #9 and #13. But #8 is my favorite of all because it's going in my nursery.
Sweet is the work. Goosebumps. Lumpy throat...

Ok, enough talking. With all my heart, I invite you to go here.

This Is What I Know

Fi

video by Jed Wells and Brad Slade


Happy General Conference weekend everyone!

See you Tuesday.
Love,
C. Jane

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