Friday, December 14, 2007


This is my desk pencil
ever handy, ever ready
regularly sharpened to tally and rally up numbers
always next to another on my desk

This is my on-the-go pencil
often twisted on it's side
to get instant thoughts on a napkin
tucked in my purse
making marks on my wallet

This is my fancy schmancy pencil
lead encased in a hefty shell shaft
forever pointed with a slight turn of the fingers
i like it's fine line

This is my let's write for hours pencil
that pals along with a battery operated sharpener
that affords me freedom to roam
pressing onto paper
thoughts of an obsessive thinker
it's very talented. it can write about many things.
It roams over the page sometimes in a little doodle fit
other times gliding into the next thought
It loves to go off the line, or just above it
ignoring the straight and predictable path that somebody made for it
no, this is not the only way
It loves to feel the invention of a new word under it's lead, just for the fun of it.
It's anti-eraser, preferring to adore every stroke, even cross-outs
It sings a smooth song like well-filed nails on a satin blanket...and I do love that.
It's just like this black one and those red ones and that gray one, all huddled together
ready to play, invent, protest, pretend.
This is my rebel pencil, and write it must.

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Recipe monologue: ColeSlaw

cut up a fresh if you can
flop it into a big bowl
grate a large carrot (peeling on for goodness sake) and...that's right, flop that on top of the cabbage
only to mix them together with your hands
roll then squeeze a fresh lemon or two onto mixture (paleeeze no seeds)
salt liberally until it's almost too salty
then pour liquid joy, a.k.a extra virgin (what's that anyway?) olive oil over everything
until it's all very shiny and almost too wet
sing any opera tune you can while tossing this all together with extra large tossing utensils
drop in a handful of dried cranberries for that magic hit of red (optional)
the secret:....lots of everything...and the singing
this is delish with poached salmon and mashed potatoes...or just the mashed potatoes.

A Vegetable Spat

Coleslawly speaking
I arugalarly tell you
that I carrot do this now.

If it's not one potato
it's two potato
that's gotten in our way.

I don't know where you've bean hanging.
Oh, stop vining and pepper up
before I squash your little seeds
up the side of your raw cabbage head.

Leaf you alone?!?!

Go get souffled!

(extensions to this spat-prose encouraged)

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Parenting From A Greater Perspective

I turned on the t.v. the other day to yet another horrible story of a boy in his teens who had randomly killed 8 people in a busy shopping mall, and then turned the gun on himself. Why didn't he just kill himself? was my initial reaction, feeling deeply as if I had indeed lost someone dear in that sad incident. Then I went into "the greater picture" mode as I often do, trying to figure out why. It's been mulling for a few days and this morning I blink open my eyes to some personal, but I'll bet universal perspectives. Here goes:

Please t.v. station owner, managers, directors, please when you report some bad news include a tale of learning from it so that 1. we are not just fed someone else's angry crap which tends to lodge in us somewhere and make us feel helpless; 2. present us with some directly related information so that we can understand what happened?, how did he get this way? Where did he go wrong? Please. And not as a way to justify such unthinkable behavior nor make excuses for him, but as a way to gleam some tid-bit of information on the importance that early years of development and parenting has on us. This is not to make parents feel bad, guilty, wrong. But rather it can give us all a macro perspective of micro events in our early life....and how they DO shape us as growing people in a society.

Please tell us about the young man's early childhood and I'll betcha bottum dolla he was abused in one way or another. This sparks a thought: I've asked, I've suspected and the horrible truth is that lots of people do not think that children birth to 5 or so are affected by what goes on around them "They won't remember" "Theyre' too young to know the difference" Or this classic tale: "I yelled at him and slapped his hands hard yesterday. He's okay now. See, he's listening now . He just told me he loves me. It always happens like this, it's normal."

The truth is a child may or may not remember particular incidents of deep hurt, insult to their personhood or repeated injustices. BUT he does remember how it made him feel, his disappointment and anger, and his helplessness and dependence on his parent(s) to protect and nurture him. These sink deeply to a child's core and become their obstacle to overcome in life. So that they may move on from them and discover and do their great passion. So that they can become a person on their path, happy, productive in whatever way that is for them for the betterment of himself can betcha bottum dolla, for other people, too.

But, no, he'll spend part of his precious life going to a shrink trying to figure out what happened to him and why it matters so much and why he can't shed it. Or, he'll go out and shoot people so that others will take notice of his to-the-core hurt and see that he IS somebody important.

So please t.v. stations, please let us learn something from tragedy. A blurb on his unfortunate childhood (betcha know what) might alert a parent out there in the network ethers that perhaps they can find a compassionate way to change there child's behavior, a compassionate way to get him to listen, a compassionate way to be with him. Little incidents do matter. Often they are one of a 'pattern of being with' that can be destructive and can implant in a child a big boo-boo that never heals.

Taking a huge bound backwards in perspective I see that children understand tone of voice and actions long before they understand the spoken word. Do not think that just because a child is pre-spoken language that he does not get 'the message'. Please be in compassionate ways with our children. If you as a parent are still licking your own wounds, please discover this time of parenting as an opportunity to heal those wounds by not passing them along to your children. Be aware. Notice. Begin to practice self-control. Be gentle with your self and every little step forward you take with this process. Know that parenting is a learning process. Know that there are other ways of being with your child that are more effective and leave happy imprints on your child rather than scars. Respect your child as a seed of great potential. Adore this special time in your life.

I once heard the singer Seale say that being a parent is a such a healing experience. If you have children you have been graced with the chance to heal any boo-boo, no matter how small.

With Love and Respect........

Lynda K.M. Treger
Parenting Coach, Creativity Coach, Speech and Language Pathologist, Child Advocate

Thursday, November 29, 2007

First Love Forever

Back in the drifts of remembrance
When tender shoots of love were brand new
A little boy aimed a folded paper plane my way
And I caught it.
He was my first love and I've always remembered him.

Too young for real stirring of passion and trust
And many crushes yet to feel
Our lives wandered apart.

By chance, or not, our paths crossed when
I, in great need, found him as if waiting
Without a pause he wrapped his arms around me
His compassion and genuine spirit
Offering a safe place to shudder deep sighs
To be me.

He was the same cheerful, warm spirit
Only a man now.

Seeing childhood friends after a long while
Missing the transition from child to adult
Life experiences embedded
And yet we are the same
We relate as innocent beings once again
For a moment in the safety of a wonderful childhood.

But wait....I feel feelings

Three years have passed since my Father's death
When my foundation of love was scarred by
a family with anger unresolved
awful words and terrible deeds
loss, snapped threads of trust
no Mom and Dad to stop the fight.
When there appeared my first love
Offering a listening ear
an open heart
and a safe place to be emotionally fragile.

Three years have passed
A call returned to a mutual friend
Who, as part of the safe harbour, has kept in touch.
We are wondering, how are you?

'Grateful' is my heartful response
So happy you're still here.
Where Do Wild People Come From? : Robin Williams

It began as all other introduction, a welcoming, a place for the tape recorder. Only the greeter was Robin Williams, so getting to the chairs was great fun. Gracious and utterly unpredictable he finally answered my first question: "Where are your parents?"
As if on cue, Robin's Mom and Dad nudged each other onward into the living room. They were laughing and talking and seemed to notice me by default. We all got with tape recorder and questions, they with a proud and content countenance. My first question to them set off waves of laughter.
"What is a well-adjusted child??!!??!! Well it's not our Robin and yet it is. A well-adjusted child is a child who does marvelously well in life with what he was given early on and with what he naturally has....who he is. The challenge with Robin was in getting there."
Robin's Mom poked her finger in the air as if demanding center stage, so to speak. She had much to say. "Robin came out different. I know. I was there. After long periods of kicking and twisting (and shouting?) he kind of popped out, barely making it to the doctor's hands. Eyes really wide open, looking around while constantly emitting strange noises from his mouth.....yes, Robin had arrived and this world was his stage."

My second question set off much the same reaction: happy remembrance and gratefulness at getting through the parenting experience. Does a well-adjusted child have behavior problems? "Oye, now we're getting complicated. There's no easy way to talk about this. Do you have all day?" Dad prodded Mom and Mom prodded back. "So it's like this.....Our Robin is a behavior problem. He likes to make up his own rules. I could have said he doesn't follow rules, but no,I said he makes up his own rules. You see, we knew he was different in a special way so we had to adjust our parenting to accommodate his personality needs while still helping (and hoping) to create a compassionate, capable human being who can live and thrive in this world. Now doing that and having a child keep his specialness is a huge task. I call parenting an encounter of humongous proportions that is never boring and lasts a life-time.
So, does a well-adjusted child have behavior problems?? Yes, of course. He's learning. Childhood is a time for learning....and so are parents. That's why kids have tantrums. Parents are learning on-the-spot and often make mistakes and do things that encourage tantrums. When I did such things and finally realized what I said or did caused a reaction, I had to think very hard about a different way to get my son to behave and be happy about it. Then I had to have some long talks with my husband, Robin's Dad here, so that he could be that same way with our child. These discussions didn't always get a great reception but I was persistent because I knew that with Robin's strong personality he was either going to be in trouble or be highly successful. I wanted to be a part of his success."

"Well", I said, "I guess you just answered the rest of my 48 questions!"

Oh, no, no let's go on. This is making me think, and I'm thinking I did an okay job.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Dear Maida: Giving Children A Voice


Maida was a girl beyond her years. She had been here before. She was a very wise child who more than anything saw childhood as the blueprint for emotional life, the tea leaves in the cup, a precious vulnerability that needed protection and a voice for all the little things that matter. Subtle abuse: a disease of spirit affecting our children.

Dear Maida Bellpepper,

So how's your sista, red? Oh, okay...
No really, is she green with envy because you're the hottest little thing around? (!!)
Oh, oh, I'm dreaming, wake me up. I didn't really say that.
No really (again) Ms. Maida, I need an ear (do you have one?) to listen to me. Now my Mama, I love her, I do, and I know she loves me cause she tells me, but.......I'm confused. Love sounds so kind & comfy that I thought it was all things good 'n beautiful. That's what feels right to my little being. But Mama confuses me 'cause sometimes she takes my arm and yanks me. I tell her to stop cause it hurts (and because I really don't like to be treated like that) and then she yells at me. I think I have more self-control than Mama but I don't know how to talk to her about it. And she's so emotional that I cannot do a heart-to-heart stare as you once told me to. I know she really doesn't mean to hurt me or my feelings, but I'm gonna get mad at her soon and find a place inside me to keep that madness because it's starting to feel strangely comfortable. that love?

Love, I think
Little Boy Blue

Dear LBB,

Have you been here before? Or is the newness of life so fresh and clean and nothing but joyful until someone whose bigger than you forgets what it's like to be a child? They forget, my LBB, when the pureness of childhood gets tainted by thoughtless actions and mean speech and they, with a disappointment too big for them, stuff it just as you are ready to do. Don't stuff it, child. For if you do it will become a part of who you are (whya from now on). Your angry 'madness' is an ugly (bit of shit) and a poor foundation for building a happy life.

Turn your little head and see it from this direction: It belongs to your Mama. She throws it your way, but, you do not have to keep it.

You have a strong spirit, I can tell. My words may elude you but the essence holding them together is the perceptible truth. All kids everywhere know the bottom-line truth. They are born with it. And the greatest capacity for joy. Do not give that up.

Love is not meant to be contradictory. Adults get complicated and that is their excuse. They have stuffed something and that little ugly gets fed over years by their remembering with angry thoughts until the small cavity of ugliness deepens to their core....and their core lets it in to stay's the sad part.....because it feels comfortable. No, that is not Love. That is abuse passed on.

Feeling comfortable means you get used to it. This is the beginning of unnecessary life challenges, of behavior getting worse not better, of deepening ugly. If you accept that as Love then when you want Love you might do what you have learned to do to get it, but if will not be the kindness, sweetness and respect that Love is. You know all this. Don't be lured from your 'knowing spot'. Don't let it be taken from you.

Here's some things to do:

* Forgive your Mama in your heart and out loud keep telling her in the kindest voice you possibly can (remember our lesson in tone-of-voice?) to stop hurting you. If you're kind she might just hear you.

* You know that adult in your life who shows you the respect you want? Like an aunt, teacher, neighbor? Remember some time you spent with this person. Thank her in your heart. Send her a thank you Love message. You can close your eyes to feel the feeling or look into her eyes the next time you are together and think your Love message. She will know. But most importantly you will be building your foundation strong with true Love.

* Always remember who you are. Prayers and quiet times by yourself are always good for that.

* Touch all things alive with care. This will pass your sweetness on. This will make you stronger in your capacity to Love. And besides, Love touches have a way of finding their way home when you need one (or two).

You are bright and beautiful, a shining star on this Earth. May your child spirit protect itself then blossom with the light of your years.


Saturday, November 17, 2007

A Creative Rebel Surfaces

Welcome to my creativity project!

In this blog I can pour out my gut feelings, intuitive callings, observations and knowledge on a topic or 2 in the form of love letters, letters not sent, lists, sentences, parts of sentences, poems, memories, confessions, creative doors, revealing observations, recipes, photo essays and any other form that subconsciously emits from my hand & heart to the page. I will be in the moment...and so this should be fun, enlightening, sometimes not, a release, a revelation, a something yet to be experienced.
I have freed myself from writing anything in a prescribed form or length.
This is a place to put writings on those stickies, napkins and used envelopes.
This is a place to play.
This can also be a place to discuss certain writings and the ideas that pop out from them.
Comments and connections welcomed!

Fun Loving Imperfect Perfectionist :)