Over The Edge

It was the algebra homework that put her over the edge...


Needless to say, I was no help at all.

Claire's Girl #3 (Yea, I Can Fly)

I'm thinking about the lone beaver I spotted at the river on Wednesday. 
It looked like a piece of wet wood drifting, but then it wiggled, slapped its tail, and dove under the dark water. I stood still, tracking with my eyes, praying for it to re-surface. And it did, popping up in the tangle of the fallen tree trunk; the one Michael tumbled off of back in October, rising up out of the water with blood streaming down his face. And a shocked grin.


Back home, I pulled a favorite book,  Animal Speak, off the bookshelf to read up on the spiritual and magical powers of beavers, I kid you not, but ended up on the bat page instead. My eyes landed on:


Changes and transformations are blessings.


Thank you, Ms. Bat, for that. 


Skimming down the page I read:


Sometimes bats are a symbol of facing our fears...It becomes a symbol of promise amidst the sometimes chaotic energies of change. It reflects the ability to move to new heights with the transitions. Yes, our own flights may seem fluttery and jerky, but we will be able to fly.


I flipped to Beaver, page 253: 


Water has long been associated with emotions and dreams...If beaver has appeared in your life, it can reflect an opportunity to build upon your dreams. 


I immediately jotted down one of my mathematical equations:


River = emotions + dreams ( + facing bat fears) x building upon dreams (to the tenth power) + beavers squared? 


= Flying, (albeit fluttery and jerky.)


I suppose I should run the math thing by my friend, Laurel, the math professor, but I know what she'll say: equate away, good woman! 


Nary a photo of a beaver or bat on file, so I thought, Claire's Girl #3 would be just fine for today. She's like Double 0-7, but way cooler. She's all sassy and bold, nothing fluttery or jerky about her.


Yea, I can fly. Wanna make something of it?


*Animal Speak: The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small by Ted Andrews

Explanation Of Clocks

I clicked on my car radio just in time to catch The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor (on NPR.) He was sharing some tidbits about Emily Dickinson since today is her birthday. 


Emily Dickinson didn't learn to tell time until she was fifteen years old because she was afraid to tell her father that she never understood his explanation of clocks.


If only she'd said, "Dad, can you explain that again?"


It made me think of Claire and how she won't *ask her math teacher to review something that feels unclear.
I said, "Honey, don't be afraid to go up and ask Mrs. Hegarty if you don't understand something. That's why they're called teachers."
"Mom! I can't go up in front of everybody and ask. Then everyone will know that I need help. We're doing stuff with percentages and everyone around me seems to get it."
Pause.
"I must've been absent that day."Claire said.


I get it. Seems the more I open myself up to new things, the more I don't know. So what. I'm letting go of those old worries. How's this for a bumper sticker?


I have no idea. Can you help me?


In honor of The Belle of Amherst's birthday, I've decided to embrace my learning curves as opportunities to raise my hand and ask for help. I may have mastered the art of clock reading, but oh, there's so much I don't know.


Excuse me? Would you mind going over that again?




Read: If You Have A Need/ Dec. 9, 2010