Julie Unplugged

I Wish Someone Had Been Bold Enough to Tell Me: One #autism story

It tugs on my heart. Something so ordinary to most is to me so much more than an expectation. Flashbacks flit past my mind’s eye, tickle my heart memory. My eyes flood.

Tomorrow Samuel will become a sophomore in high school.

My baby will no longer be in the group of the youngest kids on campus. He has morphed into a certain expertise in many things about North High School. He feels welcomed there, he has developed friendships, has goals and desires and has managed to weave his way through wobbly moments without me by his side with a cold compress for his forehead or an evil eye to lob at kids or adults who dare be in the least bit unkind to him.

Samuel is on the autistic spectrum. He has autism. He has been labeled in a variety of ways – Asperger’s, High Functioning Autism and has the occasional ADHD thrown in. I see him as Samuel, the other titles don’t enter into my psyche as much as “make sure he gets an education that suits him and provides him the experiences and knowledge he needs to reach his goals.”

Last year at eighth grade graduation, he was among the first to get his diploma. He was with the group of kids with autism, even though he had achieved high rankings in the “non-autism” world at school.

This year he advocated to no longer attend a class with only spectrum kids. He bucked the system and did so effectively. His Spanish teacher called to tell me he wished his class was “filled with kids like Samuel.”

I was so stunned I didn’t have time to get emotional.

He invited friends to his birthday party. He actually called other kids “friends”. They were a huddled group of nerds, boys I probably would’ve liked when I was in high school: awkward, charming, slightly nervous.

Next year he is adding sports to his list of “to-do’s” without my encouragement. He has made choices on his own and actually got recruited to do other sports.

I wish someone had been bold enough to tell me this day was possible, that it wouldn’t always feel like one trudge uphill both ways in the snow, I wish someone would have been bold enough to tell me it wouldn’t be one compromise after defeat after compromise after defeat after compromise.

I wish someone had been bold enough to tell me the tears would someday be from joy back in when I cried for 168 days straight.

I wish someone had been bold enough to tell me.

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Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people's creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in early Summer and beyond.

  To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735

  Check out the links above to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

 

 

What is the Best Gift You Can Give Your Child? Another Lesson My Son on the Autism Spectrum Taught Me.

 

What is the best gift you can give your child? It might not be what you think!

Samuel helped me discover one of the most important gifts you can give your children as they are moving from childhood to puberty.

 

For those of you who haven't "met" Samuel, he is my son in the seventh grade who also has high functioning autism. He is exceptionally bright, funny and interprets and experiences the world in ways I will never know.

Recently we went to visit the doctor for a wart on his left hand. It was a hideous looking growth and I couldn't wait to get it off.

Samuel's pediatrician asked me questions that involved Samuel's health care. I then asked Samuel, "What do you think?" If he needed more explanation or clarification, he asked for it.

He chose to have a flu shot because he has perfect attendance in school this year and he wants to keep it that way.

He chose to have a booster vaccination against HPV because the doctor explained what that prevents.

He chose to have his wart frozen off with three separate doses of whatever it is they put on there to make this process happen. It looks like they shoot dry ice into the wart, but I don't think that is what actually happens. Samuel stood there and acted as a collaborator with his doctor in getting the job done.

So what is the gift?

I treated Samuel as if he had the competence to make the right choices for himself. The doctor followed my lead and in doing so, explained more clearly to Samuel the hows, whys and risks much better than I could have.

In treating Samuel as if he was competent, I discovered in these areas, he was competent and capable. He was thoughtful and made his choices based on fact. If he had made choices from fear, we could have coached him a bit to find out more behind his reasoning.

I know I am extremely important in my son's eyes. By treating him as competent and capable, his confidence is naturally boosted.

What could be better than having a child on the autism spectrum who is confident and feels competent and capable?

I wonder what lesson he will teach me next.

What lessons do your children teach you?

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at a First Friday soon, when it is warmer than it was in December!, in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

 Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot     

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

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   © 2014 - Julie Jordan Scott - all rights reserved.

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Sunrise through Lace: Another Perfect Day

Yesterday was a nearly perfect day.

I didn’t go anywhere beyond a small patch of Bakersfield. I didn’t have an enormous a-ha that will make me a multi-millionaire. I did, however create nearly every waking hour and when I wasn’t actively in creativity mode, I was spending time with my children.

Samuel went thrifting with me yesterday. He actually walked around the store and even – unbelievably – chose something to buy. Very specifically, mind you, he wanted something Christmas-y and because he is who he is, he wanted something very practical: coffee (or for him water or chocolate milk) mugs.

He carried things when my hands were full and when we discovered one of the few shopping carts, he pushed it.

I worked on creating more ladder shelves and destroyed and recreated an old, warped dresser which will now become several different works though I am not sure exactly what they will be. I painted a stool, I painted a goose box thing my friend bought me two summers ago at a thrift store because it was half price. I painted a piece I think was part of a Sunday School – because I can’t quite place where I have seen one like it and it has birds cut out of the wood on the sides. It is a sort of shelf thing. I could also see it as a “point of entry/exit” for young children. Like a small version of yesterday’s mudroom where shoes and jackets and backpacks may be stored.

We had disappointments. Emma and I had hoped to see a play but it was sold out.

Our friend Jennie joined us for our weekend jaunt to the mall not to shop but for Samuel to collect street pass tags. If you have a child with a handheld Nintendo device, you may know what that is. Maybe.

I even painted in my outdoor studio when it was dark. I was a woman possessed. When the frenzy ended, Emma and I sat and watched Project Runway while poking around facebook. Well, I poked around facebook, before the three “girls” of the house fell asleep on Emma’s bed. Alice the cat had to be a part of the party, naturally.

This morning, though, I didn’t want to begin because in the middle of my day I have a commitment that will cost me a chunk of four hours which after yesterday feels like an enormous vacuum.

I sat at my kitchen table with one of the old pieces of dresser and sketched out a plan for it. I felt listless. I probably felt a little bit sorry for myself. I walked into my living room and through the lace curtains I saw it.

Sunrise. She was a round, glowing circle of fire framed by my neighbor’s trees.

As I write this, the church bells a couple blocks away sound.

I grabbed my phone and ran outside, unbrushed hair and pajamas on, and took a few photos.

When I came back in, the curtains called me back to take more.

It felt like both a gift and a promise.

Perfect days show up in different ways. Today’s perfection looks different than yesterdays. That’s how it works. That’s how it is supposed to work.

 >> = = = = = = <<

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

 

© 2013

An Inspirational Story of Autism: Samuel Waits -

Samuel's bus riding ritual has always included standing on the water meter in front of our house.

Samuel is my youngest child and the first since Beyunca, my eldest, to go to a brick-and-mortar school for  7^th grade.

 

I let fear rule me with my middle daughters. I didn’t feel it was safe to send them to our neighborhood middle school so I kept them here, with me, homeschooling. They both did well and started back in public school in high school, ready to go without what seems to be the requisite junior high angst.

The last few days I have seen a huge shift in Samuel and it isn’t angst at all, it is wonder.

Samuel has high functioning autism. He appears and acts, primarily, like any other twelve-year-old boy.

Then something happens that makes people say, “Hmmmm?”

Like when he accompanied me to an appointment with my surgeon yesterday.

The nurse asked me for the date of my last menstrual cycle. Samuel said, “I know what that means. That means when blood and tissue flow from the (and then he used the proper scientific name for that part of the female anatomy.)” Given that he and I had never discussed this at length, this openness surprised me. The nurse sat in her seat, listening. I continued. “Yes, and when I was pregnant with you, I didn’t have a menstrual period.” To which he responded, “That’s why the menstrual period comes, when there isn’t a pregnancy, the blood and tissue isn’t needed.”

In the past, Samuel would have sat in the waiting room with his 3DS XL.

Yesterday, he was right in there – chatting with the nurse and with my surgeon when he arrived.

His curiosity flowed. He made some friends. It was odd and it was fine that it was odd.

He has never been much of a storyteller, though he comes from a family of storytellers.

Yesterday he came home excitedly to tell about an incident on the bus ride.

In the past years, I have driven him because of some bullying problems he had in fourth grade.

This year his school is farther away and I have to take Emma to her school because of her interdistrict transfer.

He wasn’t very happy about taking the bus at first but now, it is enjoyable for him. Plus he gets to experience some interesting stories on the daily journey. Apparently his bus encountered a person who was probably on his own, unique journey and felt like throwing things at his bus.

First he told me the story, then when I called a dear friend on my “when you are in the car everyone is a part of the conversation” cell phone, Samuel told the story again. When we picked up Emma from her rehearsal for The Importance of Being Earnest  he gave another full accounting to his sister.

She said this morning, “Samuel has been so fun lately!”

Something great is happening at middle school for him.

He is achieving, he is growing and yes, he is starting to make more friends.

For the first time in years, I am not afraid during school hours when my phone rings.

This is an enormous shift and a delightful development for me as well as for Samuel.

The word “gratitude” is huge and it doesn’t even begin to hold what I feel.

Exponential gratitude, perhaps.

Today on my to-do list I have a “call the transportation department” to get their version of the incident and then perhaps, if appropriate, call the news. Samuel has had a goal of being on the television news. Sounds like a human interest story. What does the school district do to make Middle School so much better for students with autism that an event that would once be incredibly scary in the past  is now a learning opportunity?

Something is happening that is right this year for Samuel’s educational experience.

I feel enormously blessed.

 >> = = = = = = <<

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

 

© 2013

 

Growing with Children: The Joy of Loving Birds

This is Samuel, age 5, celebrating the coots at Hart Park

Late this afternoon I saw them swirling above the tallest evergreens in our neighborhood. “Look at those birds!” Samuel said, delighted. I could not remember their name. I used my still clogged nose as an excuse for not recalling quickly. I was thinking something fowl – like something hen… but eagle like? No, not that.

 

“Turkey vultures!” I cried out, hearing the door slam behind Samuel. I'm not sure he heard me.

I am not sure when my love of birds, specific birds, started.

I know it was less than seven years ago when I was still content to only hear the birds, not knowing whose song was whose and I would proclaim, “These birds don’t show themselves to me. I don’t need to know their names.”

Maybe it was when Samuel was home in first grade, after a tumultuous kindergarten and a school district that failed him in the beginning of first grade. We would spend hours at Hart Park hiking, looking, talking and growing. We bumped into a birder there one day. He was pleased to see us in a lovely, hidden grove by the bridge, a place Samuel called “God’s Garden” because it truly was divine, not because anyone else had proclaimed it so.

The boys took turns filling the bird feeder

This week I showed my Godson how to attract birds to the house: it was food, just like with any other species. We got bird seed, he stirred it up – and important part of the job – and he carefully filled my cheapo bird feeder and Samuel carefully hung it on our pine tree in a spot that has a perfect view from our kitchen table. This is, after all, the most likely place I am to sit, drink coffee, write and watch birds, noting with glee the sparrow or finch or, after Ciaran came, a nuthatch happened by. More specifically, it was a black eared nuthatch, I proudly told him when he came over the next time.

 

For whatever reason, Birds are the first lesson we are sharing. I have yet to pull out my vintage Peterson’s Field Guide to Western Birds and show it to Ciaran. Instead, I am allowing him to be wooed by the birds themselves. When we go for walks and I hear a bird I say something like, “I wonder what sort of bird sings that song?”

His head will lift and his eyes look to the sky, watching intently for the bird who matches the song. He looks for the bird, but like I used to be, is content for just the sounds. I smile, glad to have heard and shared the hearing.

He was being a "Muscovy Duck" whisperer. So fun!

This week we went to feed the ducks at Hart Park, a time honored tradition for my children. In the beginning we had all sorts of crazy names for the ducks. We used to call the Coots “Dumb Country Ducks” because they showed up in droves in the winter and seemed to dance atop the water doing country dances while the mallards sort of rolled their eyes, quacking the way a duck should quack since that is the sound a mallard makes, not the sound a wood duck makes or a coot makes or any of the many other ducks I have watched and admired sound.

 

I used to call the Muscovy Ducks “Turkey Ducks” because they look like, you guessed it, turkeys. They will also follow humans around on the grass, not only sticking to the water.

How many different breeds of ducks do you see here?

There were two kinds of geese at the park that day, the usual pure white ones as well as some lovely, grazing Canadian Geese. This excited me to no end because the Canadians looked so graceful and elegant to me. It also gave me a chance to talk about bird travels.

 

I know my father must have taught me something about birds when I was a little girl, but I don’t remember any of it.

I do know my children will remember it.

I loved how Emma explained the mallards to Ciaran and included, “Mallards are the ones that actually quack,” before ruining my fantasy about mallards mating for life later when our little friend wasn’t with us and was safely out of earshot.

I have been thinking since that afternoon why I feel empowered by knowing which duck and which bird is which.  Perhaps it is because I know the strength of specific via general word choices. Maybe it is because I simply like knowing which bird that looks like this sounds like that. Truly, it may be that I love recognizing the call and the face of traveling birds who move in and around this area at this time of year.

Whatever my inner, unknown motivation may be, I know our moments with the birds and the ducks and including their care, witness and presence in our lives manages to simply grow the sweetness of our life experience. That's worthy enough.

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Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

© 2013

The Most Important Parenting Advice I Can Give You

There are two pieces of advice I would give to a new parent or a struggling parent.

The first is this: no matter what be sure your child knows you absolutely, unconditionally love him or her. Ask yourself, when you were a child, did you go to sleep knowing you were absolutely, unconditionally loved? If you did, you are blessed. Remember how that felt and pass that gift to your child.

If you didn’t have that experience, you know what it is like to lie in bed wondering, “Does Mommy really love me?” or “Will Daddy forgive me?”. You know the insecurity of not being sure of love, of believing you had to somehow earn love or pay a price for your parents love. Remember how that felt and behave differently with your children.

Keep loving them well, obviously and truly even when they are acting in the least loveable ways. This is when they need to be sure of your love most of all.

The second piece of advice is this: follow your child’s fascinations even when they are not your own. I learned this from my son with autism.  He was diagnosed when he was five-years-old and I did what I felt I had to do. I pulled him out of public school in the beginning of first grade until they could get an appropriate program together for him. Until then, I decided I would homeschool him.

Or maybe it was he who decided to homeschool me.

My son has autism and is very bright. We filled his day with lots of lessons for him and even more for me. I had never studied a subject – my child and who he is was from moment to moment to moment – with such dogged attention.

I took my notebook along when we went to the park so that I could write. We baked a lot to get measuring, addition and subtraction math into our curriculum. He loved to put things in order, in lines, in arrangements with hoses and anything with water caught his attention. I took photos and cheered when he noticed a new water meter or an exceptionally exciting looking one. I was on water meter alert not because I had any interest in the subject but he did so therefore, I did, too.

This didn’t end when we stopped homeschooling.

Just a few weeks ago I discovered there was a WiiU Summer Tour event in Hollywood. I was there with my daughters. My middle daughter has a fascination for Taylor Swift so she and a friend enjoyed the concert while I spent one-on-one time with Katherine, my eldest, who was going back to Massachusetts for her senior year of college the next day.

It only had two more weeks to go so I made sure I knew which night was the least crowded and as soon as school was out the following Monday, we were on the road back to Hollywood. It’s about a two hour drive. Samuel played with the games for forty-five minutes and he was completely satisfied. I could have gotten frustrated with him for playing for such a short period of time. Instead, we took fun photos and went to dinner. Samuel and Emma were given special gifts for coming all the way from Bakersfield.

We laughed and told stories on the drive as well as made some new stories for the future.

Listen, please. Following your children’s or dear one’s fascination does not mean ditching your own.

It actually strengthens your own passion if you are aware and appreciative of others’ fascinations. Your children will learn to follow your lead and find more subjects interesting or at least acknowledge the power in giving others room to be who they are and like what they like and express that fascination freely knowing they will always love and be loved no matter what.

There is no better advice I am able to give.

 = = =

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

© 2013

 

Parenting Along the Autism Spectrum: A Miracle at the Kern County Fair

Last night Emma, Samuel and I spent a nearly perfect evening at the Kern County fair.

Wednesday was the day the Kern County Fair opened. Samuel sat on the porch with me and said, “Kern County Fair” something he had been saying off and on for the past few weeks. I acknowledged I heard him, but didn’t respond with a resounding “ohmigawsh! It’s the opening day of the fair! Let’s go!” I offhandedly told my son I didn’t have space in my calendar to go until Sunday night.

I explained these things needed to be planned, that he could ask his father about going to the fair before I was able to take him. “Planned this? I should have planned to go to the fair?” he squeaked, putting his head in his hands. Guilt swarmed my face as I thought I was overloading him, creating more anxiety in his always-close-to-the-surface-autism-spectrum-anxiety-life.

I wanted to wait until Sunday to go, since it was the first fair day I didn’t have commitments in the evening that was also a wristband day. My frugality always trumps the urgent desires of my kidlets and somehow I finally got Samuel to understand this.

When Sunday rolled around, it turned out I had a lot to do, including picking up Emma from her weekend retreat at 5:30 and skyping Katherine immediately afterwards. I made a commitment to myself I would only go to the fair if Samuel actually requested it. I almost thought I was off the hook because he hadn’t mentioned it all weekend.

Right before our skype visit with Katherine, he said again, "Kern County Fair." Translated into what that means, "Mommy, may we go to the fair like you said we could on Wednesday?"

Emma's face says it all: Best Kern County Fair Day Ever!

I agreed. On our drive there I thought we “didn’t have enough time” - which is one of my favorite laments, it seems – but I knew I needed to honor my commitment.

I didn’t know at the time it was to be my most comfortable, pleasant visits to the fair ever.

By Bakersfield standards it was downright chilly – in the mid 70’s. I have been attending the Kern County Fair for more than twenty years now and I don’t remember ever having a non-sweaty and overheated visit. This felt heavenly. I also realized most “normal” parents were busily preparing their children for the school week ahead on Sunday evening, so the lines

Samuel usually doesn't like getting his photo taken yet is very enthusiastic here - another miracle!

were ridiculously short.

My children zipped on and off rides with ease so much so that when it was 8:30, a full thirty minutes before I had said I wanted to leave, both Emma and Samuel declared they had had enough of the rides so there was only one thing left to do: share chocolate chip funnel cake.

There was even plenty of space to sit down to eat the funnel cake. When I was ordering drinks, I remembered to motion to Samuel rather than say his name. It was sometime in the last year he got “stranger danger” drilled into his head by well meaning people, I am sure, but ever since then whenever his name is spoken in a public place he gets nervous.

He looked at me and said, “You have been very good about not saying my name.”

I smiled at him, more than a little shocked he chose to compliment me before I responded, “I try very hard, sometimes I forget and I say your name… but I really try hard not to say it.”

He is not prone to spontaneous praise, so I experienced another – or could it be a first? - Kern County Fair miracle of mine.

Last night was also the first calendar evening of Autumn and it actually felt – would one believe it could happen – autumnal here in Bakersfield. I felt chilled as I walked around. Emma wore a sweater. Samuel was drenched both by water from his favorite fair ride and an awfully fine spirited mood.

This was the second Kern County Fair miracle of mine.

In this writing I have relived last night. Now its my turn to have a smile that would wrap around my head if I didn't have ears. I can feel those miracles continuing. Another perfect day whether we are at the fair or not.

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Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!) 

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

© 2013

 

May I Offer You a Cup of Tea? For Those of Us Who Love Living on the Island of Misfit Toys -

I look into these photos from this morning and think, “This could be my self portrait.”

I showed my art in process to Emma and she cocked her head to the left and said, “They don’t really match.”

I cocked my head to the right and responded, “Yeah, that’s sort of the point.” Or perhaps I should say one of the points.

It started with the tea cup.

I bought it at an estate sale for several reasons: first of all, she was without a saucer, which I learned in kindergarten from my teacher, Miss Wick, is a horrific faux pas. I didn’t want to leave the poor tea cup all alone in a sea of teacups with saucers there being offered to other estate sale shoppers. I also noticed the insects she was wearing on her sides. Having never seen a teacup with insects on her side, I knew this was definitely my tea cup.

Her throne base comes from my daughter Katherine’s watch box. Well, it was my daughter Katherine’s watch box. She left the box on the kitchen counter so I snatched it up, realizing it would be perfect for some future project. I fetched some Asian book pages – foolishly accepting they were in Japanese because somehow to Universe would send me characters to match the Nippon on the bottom of the teacup which I learned gives my sweet little friend a birthdate between the 1920’s and 1930’s.

My twelve-year-old son, Samuel, who has become our family expert in all things Asian language related looked at it and declared it to be Chinese. Ooops. My poor not yet assembled art piece had another flaw even before I “stitched her together.” I got the paper from one of the Friends of the Library book sales. I still have more that is becoming more art as I type. Art-in-progress: how I adore that, too!

The saucer where she sits was bought as a prop for a play I was in last May: The Nerd. I broke lots of sweet saucers so I had to have plenty to mash up. The only problem is this particular saucer and her sisters were apparently made to not break, so I saved them…. for whatever perfect project happened to appear. She is covered in book page leaves because of the insects, naturally. They need some “leaves” to prance among, right?

You add together all these mismatched, misshapen remnants and get a sum total of… very close to me and perhaps, close to you, too.

I made this for all of us who feel mismatched or unmatched at all – certainly too much to be understood or appreciated by anyone.

Who would want a cracked, stained tea cup from two generations past sitting atop some Asian language that can’t be understood and grass leaves made of a children’s text book from the 1970’s and a English composition book from 1934?

I would. So I took her pictures and imagined what it would be like to gather with a bunch of other mismatched souls who by some miracle match me enough that we can fully appreciate the quirkyness of one another.

Oh, can you imagine the reflection of that crew if you held a mirror to us?

I’ll take that view, and that cup of tea, anyday.

*****

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday on September 6 in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different mixed media channels, especially if you relate to being mismatched and/or living on the island of misfit toys, teacups and people. You are love!

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Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

 

 Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

© 2013

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Transition to the New School Year May be Frustrating and May Be Positively Life Changing

I am in the final days before the next school year starts and this week has been frustrating to say the least.

Two of my children will be in new schools, one planned and one not even considered six months ago.

Schools change, though, and it is in my daughter’s best educational interest to change schools as a high school junior. This breaks my heart on many levels.

On other levels, though, it is reminding me that love wins and using love rather than anger or fear or contempt is always best.

The one educator who provided the “last straw in the camel’s back” which lead to my daughter's transfer emailed me the other day following up on a request made (and ignored) at the end of last academic year. I haven’t responded yet because I was so surprised to receive the email and rather than write back an angry missive, I have taken my time to respond.

I plan to write back, with love, compassion and forgiveness. It has been writing itself in my head for two days now. I will write the rough draft tonight and tomorrow, edit it down to the words which are the most grace-filled and caring.

It is no accident I have been reading Pema Chodron’s book, The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times, right now as the school year is about to begin. This morning I felt cautiously optimistic: a definite step in the right direction.

If you are living with frustration as your children return to academia, please remember the words of Pema Chodron and look for the teaching in every educator you meet, especially those that may upset and anger you at first.

Take a deep breath and repeat the words, “open to love” and see how it changes both your attitude and the responses you receive from others. Open to love, Open to love, Open to love….

I have to tell you all, by the way, as I was writing I got a phone call for an appointment for Samuel, one that had been elusive. Being open to love also meant being open to whatever the outcome came to be.

 

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© 2013

Roadtrip Love: Leaving for Flagstaff in the Morning for the First Time in Two Years!

Tomorrow we leave for Flagstaff: an abridged group since Emma is staying behind for her Les Mis rehearsals.

I cannot remember feeling this excited about going there before: butterflies in my stomach – smile I can’t wipe off my face – a skip to my step as I clear out the trunk of my car of all the extraneous stuff that tends to gather there.

It has been two years since we have been to Flagstaff. Time goes so quickly and with children in high school, college and now in junior high, it is nearly impossible to sync schedules. This year I threw the need to sync to the wind and Emma is staying here. She just got back from Washington, DC, after all. I am still recuperating from that trip but am very excited to hit the road this time.

Perhaps it’s the thought of a roadtrip with Katherine, my most happy-to-roadtrip child. Maybe it’s the train ride to the Grand Canyon we are planning on our final day in the area. I have wanted to ride that train for as long as I can remember but have always scoffed about the expense.

Well, the expense is still there, but my desire and feeling “hey, we only live once and Samuel has never been to the Grand Canyon and this is a way I think he will really enjoy it!” won out so I bought tickets.

I actually sat still for a minute to scan my body for anxiety.

There was none.

I have no anxiety about the trip at all, which is also a strange condition for me.

Maybe that is why I am so excited. The lack of tension feels like such a grand thing! It gives us more opportunities to build lasting memories for my children, especially Samuel, who was not very enthusiastic when I told him we were going.

“Why do I have to go?” Samuel asked me.

I mumbled a few reasons that felt inadequate and added, “Plus we’re visiting your grandparents. They want to see you.” The tears that stung my eyes told me I wanted him to see them and I wanted to see them seeing each other.

My parents are now older than all their parents lived to be. They are in their 80’s and relatively healthy, yet many of their friends have died. I am ever conscious we may not have a “next visit” and try to live each visit as if that were so. It might sound morbid on first reading, but when you think about it from an inner core perspective, you will recognize how enlivening it is.

It reminds me to be intentional, to not waste the moments with trivia, to watch and listen and be open to any threads of stories or traces of my grandparents in my parents so that I can retell their stories to my grandchildren who can in turn share the stories with their grandchildren.

We’re scheduled to leave at six a.m. I plan to pack up the car before I go to sleep. I look forward to waking up!

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Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

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© 2013