the tug on my skirt

i am becoming more adept at listening to the tug on my skirt

the one that comes from deep inside me, from the darkness

from the little girl in there with the tears and the snot and the grazes on her knees,

the little one who says,

"that hurt"

or

"i'm scared"

i am becoming more adept at stopping what i am doing,

stopping all the busy-ness and the chatter and the urge to pull the carpet over her

and i am turning my face to her,

kneeling down and saying

"It is ok sweetheart. I am here."

It requires me to not be in the world so much. It requires me to not be busy making plans or having coffee, it requires me to be attentive to the smallest sounds from my heart.

But it also allows me to be heard and held and comforted in just the way i need

And that is good.

PRACTISE (and pancakes) and listening to myself

(having to be really brave here to post this photo - this is a picture from my Suzi Blu Piety and Passion course and i hate it)

Today i was being short order cook, making pancakes for 4 girls (sleepover, school holidays)

The eldest girls were drawing on big peices of paper i gave them (yes, BIG), while the youngest were still tucked up upstairs, reading.

Girl 1 said "I am useless at drawing dogs."

and i said "How often do you practise?"

she looked at me a bit confused.

I said "Do you draw a dog everyday?"

"No"

"Well how much did you have to practise to learn to ride a bike?"

"Lots"

"Well it's like that with drawing. You have to practise and make mistakes and practise and learn, until you can draw dogs you like"

As i flip my 12th pancake i think about how i apply that to myself.

Do i practise and practise?

Do i learn from the mistakes i make?

Do i do it and do it and do it again until i make marks I am pleased with (not necessarily ones that look like a dog or that others will recognise as a dog, but that my heart looks at and says DOG!)

i should listen to myself a lot more often.