Feng shui and practicality dictate that my home ofﬁce doubles as a living room. In this space, I am surrounded by physical objects that represent the practical and spiritual elements of my life. I have piles of paper, photographs, coupons, crystals, Wii games, and inspirational pieces in plastic frames.
My favorite is a poem that reads:
I am in my favorite room
of windows and wood
(c) Shelley Adler
“When did Grandma write this?”
My 10-year-old daughterʼs question pulled my focus away momentarily, from the myriad of to-do list items begging for my attention. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a reflective pool of still, cool water. I saw my own eyes looking back at me, and the memories ﬂooded in.
I saw myself as a young girl standing in my motherʼs ofﬁce, a sun room. It was a warm, wood-paneled porch off the master bedroom with large windows on two sides and a beautiful bookcase with stained glass doors. It overlooked the back yard and in the Indian summers of my childhood, was full of ﬁreﬂies and wild raspberries.
It was her special place to go to when she needed some quiet.
It was the sanctum from which her poetry ﬂowed almost effortlessly; where she was surrounded by books and baubles that reminded her of happier days when she still had a chance of realizing her own dreams, different from those of the Ivy League professor she dutifully married to please her own father.
And when I tip-toed through the doorway, Iʼd peer around the corner of the bookcase into my motherʼs eyes. She would begrudgingly pause from her writing to look up, eyes beaming love in response to my shy smile.
I am miles and years away from that place and that sunny room; still, this feeling is so familiar.
I sit at my desk and wonder. When my daughter is older, will she remember this room? Will she remember the way the late afternoon sun moves through the hanging crystal on the window overlooking the back yard? Will she remember the way the light forms rainbows dancing on the walls and ceiling? Will she tell her daughter about the writer, singer, healer, visionary who is her mom?
Now I am the Mama with loving, tired eyes, using a Mac instead of a stack of yellow note pads and old typewriter. And like my mother before me and her mother before, I stop working to tell my daughter about the wonderful women in our family. I tell her how important it is to have her own space so she can create, dream, write, draw, think, read… be.
It can be a small desk in the corner of a bedroom, kitchen, living room or a vast office. It can be Grandmother’s rocking chair next to a reading table or a cushion on the ﬂoor near an altar. Wherever it is and however it is constructed, I hope one day she values herself enough to create a sacred space and maybe in the corner somewhere, she will have a little plastic frame with one of my poems in it.
BIO: By day Shira Adler is a cantor, spiritual vocalist, certified pastlife regressionist, voice-over artist, producer, performer, writer/blogger and mompreneur and by night… well, she is actually the same person at night though she does admit to wearing fuzzy socks when no one can see her and hiding a secret stash of Mallomars somewhere near her writing desk for those late night pick-me-ups. In, around, and between her various work activities, she is raising two beyond-the-spectrum children as a single mom (though lovingly gives a shout out to her best friend, editor and soulmate whom she considers the bees knees). Is it any wonder her website’s tag line is One Voice Many Paths? Seriously, look up the definition of a multi-tasking Mama and you will find her picture there. But when it comes to living a life of connection, faith and consciousness Shira is the gal to call — or if you’re fresh out of Mallomars — she’s always happy to give you one. For more information visit: ShiraAdler.com, read her blog at Diva-Mama.com; Social: Twitter (1DivaMama), Facebook (DivaMama1), Tumblr (not really sure, but the name is cute) and LinkedIn (because doesn’t everyone?).
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