Athena Cat Goddess Wise Kitty ~ Peace Globe #10,475

London, England
United Kingdom

Quotes from Athena –  “Climate change is real and we can help change the climate. It starts with you. Each and every one of us. We can all do our bit to save Mother Earth. There are things we can all do as individuals to save our beautiful planet!”

#Blog4Peace #ClimateChange

Dona Nobis Pacem ~ Bathing In Persimmon Trees

Welcome to the 14th launch of BlogBlast For Peace aka Dona nobis pacem in the Blogosphere. 
Our theme this year is Change Your Climate. Many are choosing to write about global climate change. Others are choosing to write about the need to change their own personal climates in order to create peaceful spaces for themselves ( ie: eliminating stress, self-care). I have chosen the latter.  
Please sign the Mr. Linky at the end of this post so that others may visit you and see the beautiful peace globes throughout the Blogosphere. Remember to tag me on Facebook  or wherever you are on social media. Thank you for being a part of this community of peace bloggers. Your words are powerful and important to all of us. May we lift and encourage in our quest for a peaceful more sustainable planet earth.  Grant us peace!  

Bathing In Persimmon Trees

As she got older and more introspective, my mother would spontaneously start talking about random things from her faraway childhood. On this day, she began to weave invisible spinning yarn in the air in front of her. “There are these threads….you see….threads….” as her hands moved in and around them,  making sense of mysteries in her mind,  weaving and talking as she spun, connecting branch to branch to branch. Except she wasn’t really sitting there with me. She was somewhere back in time playing dodgeball with the curse.
 “I can see them going back generations.”“What kind of threads?” I asked. “Poverty. Brokenness. Abuse. Depression. Alcoholism. Divorce. Conflict. Addiction. Bad threads….don’t you see them, Mimi?”Yes, mama, I’ve always seen them.
Like shadows on trees in a cemetery, cast long from eons of time and generation, I had always seen them. 

If you want to go mad, cover them up.
If you want to break the curse,
stand in the Light.

Generational threads can tie together what desperately needs to be broken. They are inherently binding and strong.
Made of flax. Faith. Fiber. Custom. Tradition. Tribe. Toxicity. Untruth.
Even and especially love.

Whether they remain tied and woven into the next generation depends not on the strength of the cotton, but on the spinning of the pattern. Twisted legacies take whole life spans to unspin. It requires laser-sharp discernment and a willingness to plant a new field. To begin a better story. Harvesting new tribes is not for the faint-of-heart. My mother was anything but faint.


And that’s when I began to remember…
warm water washing down my back.
I felt the heaviness of long tangled hair.
Soap.
And her hands in my hair.

Scrubbing and soothing at the same time.  Bare feet on a dark linoleum speckled floor, bent over the kitchen sink in the middle of a fifties wood frame in the heat of summer and the only running water in the house.  Daddy hadn’t finished the bathroom yet.My mother stood untangling the mane that was always tangled and drying me off with a ragged towel. 
And then I started to cry 
Uncontrollably. Sobs from an eight-year-old that should never be heard by a mother. She knew. I could see it in her eyes. She knew. From the covering of shame I felt underneath the thinness of fabric that could not cover could not cover could not cover the confusion and tremble of a skinny little girl who had just been reminded of more than innocent suds running down the back of a dark-haired freckle-faced me with grownup questions swirling in her mangled head.She looked straight into the dripping freckles and raised her eyes to meet mine.


It was my mother’s greatest gift to me. 
Unwavering trust. Unquestioning acceptance. She believed what I was about to tell her before I said it. I can still taste the shampoo on my lips and see the horror in her eyes, the quiver in my voice. I remember the way my eyes wanted to only stare at the linoleum while she gathered herself.  Standing there dripping in a torn towel while she called someone to tell them what she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.I never had to see him again.She saw to it.
She sacrificed family and relationships to protect me. Had she chosen to look the other way, I am sure without a shadow of an oak tree doubt,  I would have crumpled into a broken twig on the sudsy floor and never recovered.Instead, it was the moment that defined me. 


In the deepest part of me that day, she taught me to trust the sacred places that no one should touch.  I owned every nook and crevice again before she even finished with the tender drying because my mother believed me she gave me permission to trust myselfShe had no idea that she’d just given me my voice.

Of all the trials that came later – our arguments, her quirky temper, my stubbornness – our differences growing wider in the middle of our lives, then circling back to unconditional love, as happens with mothers and daughters  – I’m not sure she ever fully recovered from the sadness of that moment. 
ThreadsYou see them, don’t you Mimi?


I wanted so much to know her and understand her better and all that mysterious weaving in the spirit. Those strands had names. They had stories. But there wasn’t time and she was gone.  What made her so unbreakable? What stopped her from untying the last piece of tangled life and freeing herself? What kind of woman knows by instinct and love how to run straight into battle for her daughter?  That’s the indestructible mother I longed to fully know.

When I felt she had no faith in my endeavors or no understanding of my independence, in hindsight, now, I wonder if the moment under the towel defined the way she would forever try to keep me from straying too far into unfamiliar territory. As I spread my wings to fly away, perhaps her holding on was the only way of protecting me.  Perspective.
I went through some things this year that broke my heart. Multitudes of unkindness and wholly undignified days. But the more vile they became, the more grace I received. 
 My body is recalibrating. Balancing. Resetting. Changing my climate, my environment, is not just necessary for peace of mind, it’s mandatory for my survival. I am ready to put this decade behind me but not without the wisdom it contains.

Standing under the canopy of trees gives me courage and strengthens my vulnerability – that delicate balance between authenticity and prudence.   It resembles the act of protection and trust. Intimacy and connection.  You might not have a lifetime or even a decent swath of moments like these with the people you love. 
But it only takes one.  
Divine grace echoes on the walls of my heart. 
My mother’s grace reverberates decades later.
And she is the reason that I can stand uncovered in a field of persimmon trees
without fear 
without shame
without scars

I finally learned to accept all our twisted roads and fallen places.  How she tried to exhume the genesis of those invisible threads in her hands, never quite finding where the first broken piece began and the last continued.   You see them, don’t you Mimi?
She died before she could unravel all the threadsBut she deposited in me just enough spitfire to keep my end of the peace treaty intact:To leave the untelling on the kitchen floor To live without hiding behind trees 
To forgive those who want to see me brokenTo be open and brave when your words need wordingand to be loud in the most vulnerable of places
and that’s why I need treesHad you told me a year ago that people can feel energy from trees, I would have silently patted you on the head and sent you on your way. And yet, since her death six months ago, I find myself running to the forest on my mountain, sitting for hours in the sanctuary of their branches. Breathing in oxygen. Absorbing life into the cells of my stress-laden body. Finding the Mother trees. They shelter the young saplings and strategically branch out in directions that give them the most nourishment from the sun.Did you know there are mother trees?
We are made stronger when we understand where we came fromwhen we uncover what is hurting usWe discover which branches are strong and which need pruning.I am learning to be thankful for the miles of memories that created meall of them
Safety sometimes lies in being unseenbut never in being unheard.

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Photo credit: Mimi Lenox

Peace Globe Templates

Grab this logo and fly it on your pages

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NOTE: NEW Badges for 2019 HERE that match our theme “Change Your Climate”

Choose one or several as backgrounds to make your own peace globe. I have grouped them by color themes. Just right click and Save. Decorate or use as is.




Many choices! Feel free to use them to blog for peace. Decorate, sign, personalize!
Rich Blues ~ our signature color

Blue peace globe template for Nov 4






Designed by Michelle Frost

Rich blues are synonymous with the peace globe movement and most recognizable. But you can blog and post in any color you choose. Just make sure you write “Dona nobis pacem” on the one you choose for Nov 4.

Earth tones
Earth tones are on this page.

EARTH TONES

Green peace globe, dona nobis pacem

Rich blues (found here!) are synonymous with the peace globe movement and most recognizable. But you can blog in any color you choose. It’s now possible to match the color scheme on your blog. Just make sure you write “Dona nobis pacem” on the one you choose for Nov 4.

GREENS

FUNKY PINKS AND REDS


Promotional logos to grab for your pages

Designed by Michelle Frost

Join us November 4 for BlogBlast For Peace

Need Inspiration? Explore this blog or….
Go to the Facebook Albums and see what others have done.
Go to my Facebook page and look under PHOTOS
See the thousands of peace globes from 214 countries flying in the gallery @ blog4peace.com
Join us November 4th.

How To Blog4Peace: 3 STEPS

1. Save and Sign. Choose any graphic on this page. Right click and Save. Decorate or leave as is.

2. Send the finished globe to blog4peace@yahoo.com and/or
3. Post it anywhere online November 4 and title your post Dona Nobis Pacem (Latin for Grant us Peace)  hashtag #blog4peace  #blogblast4peace


Your peace globe and post will be assigned a number and  placed in the Official Gallery at blogblastforpeace.com.

By participating in BlogBlast4Peace you agree that your peace globe and links may be displayed on other social sites such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, Digg, wherever peace bloggers are online, and shared across the blogosphere in the name of peace and in the spirit of promoting this work. They may also be used in printed works and publications online and elsewhere by the founder of this movement in creating published works about the Blog4Peace movement.

If you do not want your peace globe shared and made accessible to others, let me know. Otherwise, please understand that this movement is all about spreading the message.


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Papa's bowl of marbles


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Romania, Belgium, Thailand and British Columbia blog for peace

There are 214 countries and territories who’ve blogged for peace in the past thirteen years. Where are you from? Is it peaceful where you live? Can you think of a way to influence your corner of the world for the common good? I know! I have a fabulous idea!

Join us NOV 4 and fly a peace globe. Below are four stellar examples from the past to inspire you.
Canada

Belgium

Thailand

Romania

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