It's Christmas morning,

George woke up at 5AM (not because of Christmas just because that's when he's been waking), Fred got up with him and I slept until 7AM when June got up and then Fred went back to sleep for a couple of hours and now we're all up and Fred is downstairs with the kids eating his omelette while they play "Cariboo" and I sneak off to write a bit.

I feel openhearted. I haven't sent cards or even an email message out but I am sending loving energy to all of my friends who are celebrating today, to all of the soldiers who are away and not with their families, to children and families who are struggling today, to people in the hospital, to people in my life who have helped me and whom I have lost touch with and are maybe disappointed in me.

I am more able to watch my mind this Christmas morning than I ever was in years past and notice when I am stuck in racing thoughts. I am more able to quiet my mind and meditate on qualities like love. I am better able to notice changes in my body as I change my mind.

Some days, that is. Yesterday was a long day for me; it was the kids' first day of winter break and we had no plans. It is too cold and snowy here to be outside much. George was really rammy, his energy just never settled no matter what activity I tried. Being inside with an overactive child felt annoying and draining.

Noticing that, I didn't take myself to a place of judgement. I just acknowledged that's how my day was going and that's how I was feeling. Fred came home from work early (at 5PM) to support me and when the kids went to bed we watched "The Wrestler" which I had been wanting to see for a year.

I am feeling so open and shifted today, maybe because of the support, the self-care, the sleep, knowing Fred is here with me today and tomorrow we have plans to go see my sister and family. I think it is more, though; I think being in that annoyed, crappy state of mind yesterday without judging it is what's created the shift.

I am incredibly grateful that I am becoming more mindful of my funny mind and the thoughts that churn through it.

When I came downstairs this morning, George was still full of that excess energy. We sat on the couch together and did a lot of physical play--clapping, rocking back and forth singing "Row, Row, Your Boat." His eyes were sparkling and he engaged with me for a long time and sang a lot. I imagine his soul saying to me Mommy, this is what I needed. Thank you for tuning in and giving it to me.

I can see that in the past few years. having a child with autism has been a great motivator for me to turn inward and turn to my energy and intuition more, especially because so often George can't express to me what he needs or how he is feeling.

But I also recognize that this past year of facing my cancer and getting rid of it has lead me to know that tuning into my energy and working on living mindfully is neccessary not just for George's sake, but for my own.

I want to live a happy life. Being present and open is allowing that to happen. I see now just how much I wanted to control my happiness before, to make the happiness happen. And how devastating it was when suffering happened, like George's autism being diagnosed.

And now I get that the hard, challenging things that happen in our life are part of the nature of life and that every human being suffers and feels fear. And that my response to what manifests in my life is the gateway to happiness; not a fake response, not "be positive." No. My response is now "be present." Notice what I am feeling. Notice what I am thinking. Notice conflicts that I create in my mind. Notice that I am feeling annoyed as hell.

Notice the beauty of being with my husband and children this Christmas morning, notice how it feels to be here with an open heart.

Notice my prayers. Notice the gifts in my life, the incredible community of friends, the work that keeps opening up for me, the synchronicity, the doctors who helped me to get well, Rabbi Yael and Rabbi Linda.

One moment at a time is what I need to show up for. That's all.
***
Last weekend there was a huge snowstorm here and everything closed down including my work so I actually get three weekends off in a row instead of two. What a GIFT! It was snowing when we woke up Saturday morning and it never stopped all day, it snowed into Saturday night and Sunday morning.

I loved the hush of everything. I loved looking into the sky. I thought of other snowstorms in my life, especially of the snowy January and February that followed George's birth and how I wrapped him in layers of onesies and sweaters and snowsuits and put him in the baby bjorn so I could take him out with me just for a little fresh air and how a walk around the block was an incredible adventure and how I could feel his breath and gurgles against my chest and how I wrapped my arms around the baby bjorn and pressed him close against me. And how I remember and savor that delicious moment now because there I was, totally present, feeling the wind, the cold, and the love for my child.

And I thought about snowstorms when I was a child and how everything stopped in the big open of our backyard, set out in the mountains and how I would make snow angels and look into the sky and in the quiet there, I lost myself into the sky, into the falling snow. That quiet, that consciousness, is the place I ran away from, not knowing what to call it, not knowing that others felt it, too. It is the place that

am returning to in all weather, my life as part of an ongoing consciousness, part of the sky, the falling snow, the disappointments and suffering of all people and the release of all disappointments and suffering. Here I am, letting tears come and fall onto my keyboard, here I am writing it down.

Here I am, Christmas morning ( I need to get the kids dressed now and we're going out to the movies soon), wide awake.