Making the Shadows Part of us and Growing Real

Welcome to my other web site, the original venture related to my book In the Midst of Parenting. It is www.growingreal.com.

And what a difference a day makes or many days and years. Because I come to the site that emptied out into cyberspace, with a different spirit. The dancing mind has emboldened me to exercise my right to play and be silly, right on the site. I confess a hint of hesitation, as if I still get flustered as I "hear" the rule makers insisting on always being impressive as in "professional" and polished. How else will I impress anyone? But the war is on, and I'm going for the gold of authenticity, since it's the truest and the only one that works for me, even though it is complete only for moments at a time.

And so it it, both alas and for the good, that polished I will never be...funny perhaps, moody often enough, truthful whenever I can-- but polished-- no way. I have eschewed (either with beautiful integrity or because I could never live up to it anyway) the smoother path of trying to follow the advice of all the courses on polishing, as if we are all pieces of furniture trying to look new or "look" distressed, and hiding our real distresses. A news item (news should be in quotation) stressed the need for employees to show their employers how necessary they are by basically sucking up, coming so early that the boss starts to feel he/she could never do without the perfectly behaved and courteous and always volunteering worker. The idea was to come early, stay late, and volunteer for everything in sight.

For now, as I continue on the topsy turvy path of growing real, I aim to have my book published and I'm pretty serious about it, and I aim to teach. But those looking for the neater and smoother plastic will not like me anyway. There is only so much one can polish a given piece of furniture anyway.

A side bar is that recently I decided to let my white hair return to white. Wanting to try on the youth and change of looking younger, I found a close to organic color and many told me I looked ten years younger. And then my son gave me a sideways glance of half wonder, and half pure yuck and the epiphany came. He saw me after a hiatus of some months and his look was honest in its confusion-- for him it wasn't me. And that could be ok and he like others in my life who are fans of the white hair would stop hounding me. But his look brought me back to my own inner mirror image. It came to me that now that I know that to some peopole I can look ten years younger the party's sort of over. My youth ultimately comes from my silliness, and goofiness and play...and the smile and laughter and imagination and dancing mind, that are in me.

So along with the white hair idea, I decided to let a bit looser on www.growingreal.com . I decided that while I wait for publication of my mysterious journey and insights on distraction, since I have the opportunity to publish what and who I am, perhaps I should use that freedom.

There is quite a bit of stuff there about discipline and its implications, stuff I feel is really important.

One more thing: I just realized, I think that there really is no such thing as being predictably consistent if one is alive. I change my mind all the time because I have to be true to what I see. In my work people and their emotions are often moving targets. How can one be consistent when the targets and the moods and the people and circumstances are changing?

Okay then, ba bye for now....