Kellianne Benson

December 5 – Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? (Author: Alice Bradley)

I meant to write about this last night. But! Nothing. And today. Nothing. I have nothing to say about letting go in 2010.

The only thing I really felt the letting go of was my super-pregnant body. Thank goodness for that! I’m back to my regular size, and it’s hard to believe I was ever a leg aching, air puffing, exhausted 41 weeks pregnant. That was. Epic proportions! I was ever glad to see the phase end.

I had a doozy of a weekend. It was all partypartynursenursepartyworkpumpworknursepartynursenurse. I might have had a few hours of sleep, but it wasn’t quality. Anyhow, I fell behind on my reverb10 writing! So here goes…

December 4 – Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

I’m going to have to default on the whole being pregnant and having a baby thing, here, which is sure to happen on a whole lot of these reverb posts. That said, events that stick out as a wonderment aside are as follows:

1) The Olympic Sculpture Park Farmers Market! I know it sounds cheesy, but every Thursday during the second half of last summer I would dress Niko in his big ol’ Scarlet O’Hara looking sun hat, dig $100 out of my savings hidey hole, and walk him down the street to what I called “the party.” There, I got to know so many amazing vendors, some of whom would come with dirt under their nails from digging out the very potatoes I was buying. I sampled several amazing local wines. I bought hand made pastas. I ate bacon and maple doughnuts! Niko would look around in wonder until he fell asleep. After, I would come home with a 10lb bag of second run tomatoes (among many other things) and make 4 quarts of my favorite marinara sauce to freeze in batches. Thank goodness for that sauce! It won’t last until next tomato season, but it’s brought life to many of my most memorable meals since.

I feel deeply thankful to live in a city where such amazing things happen.

2) A weekend trip to the Olympic Peninsula. We went on a whirlwind tour around the Olympic Peninsula and…. well… can I tell you a story? I’ll keep it short, I promise…

Once upon a time, I visited the Pacific NorthWest for the very first time. It was the year 2000. I climbed a few epic trails in the Olympics and felt so utterly connected to the land here. I felt what I suppose some people would call God. Fast forward to 2007, when I started dating this incredible man who lived 3,000 miles away in Seattle. It felt easy for me to move to Seattle when that man asked me to come, because I knew that part of my destiny was wrapped up in those gorgeous Olympics. This sounds a bit, I dunno, cheesy. I know. But every word of that story is true without an ounce of embellishment.

Anyhow, we took a whirlwind trip out to the Olympic Peninsula last summer. It was my first trip back since that fate changing hiking trip in 2000 (I know, I know). And, y’know, not a thing has changed. I do belong here. There is something in my soul that is connected to the land out here. That’s a whole lot of wonder, right there.

December 3 – Moment.

Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

(Author: Ali Edwards)

On May 15th, I asked someone to get me a glass of water. No lemon. I hate rind! The assistant (Marion) to my midwife (Lynn) went down to our kitchen to grab it – I couldn’t let go of my doula’s hand. I had been pushing for an hour and couldn’t wait for it to be over. When Marion got downstairs in our little loft, she indicated to my best friend that the baby’s head was capping by about an inch.

Moments later, Lynn called downstairs, “MARION! I need you!!”

It’s hard for me to wrap my words around the following moments. I was hyper-present, in a way that I have never understood presence. I could not have uttered a descriptive word. I was so IN the moment, so IN my body. Honestly, I don’t know how to explain having a baby. I don’t know how to tell you about being on a stool next to my bed in a tiny loft, feeling like I was dying, all the while feeling like I was being born. It’s just this wild thing that happened! It was so surreal that it stands to remind me, in a way, of why simple things in life often seem mundane. They rather have to be, don’t they? Because if everything could be as intense as having a baby in your tiny loft? Well. That’d just be too much being alive for anybody’s brain to handle.

Lynn asked me to reach down and grab my baby. I remember how confused he looked! And how alive, really. His spirit just filled up the room as he took his first gurgling breaths. And then! he started to scream. He was pissed! My husband and I laughed.

I yelled downstairs, “Katie! Get up here! You’ve gotta see this guy!”

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta)

This is a funny question. This question assumes that I write quite a bit, does it not? And maybe it even assumes (this is likely projection) that I am living to write a story. Interesting. I suppose that I used to live to write quite a bit, back in the wild west days of the internet. I lived and wrote to gather an audience. I wrote under an assumed name. I wrote to collect attentions and to exorcise ghosts. I had a lot of time to live wildly and write with reflection, desperation, and about a million other adjectives that could be easily found with a right click to bring up my thesaurus in Word Perfect.

Now? I change diapers. I create meal plans. I cut hair. I answer email. I exfoliate and try to apply lipstick. I play peek-a-boo. I make empanadas. I watch my son chew on a pickle. I dance, nurse, vacuum, and work out. Sometimes I make it a point to look at myself naked in the mirror and tell myself, “Hey. Not bad.” I drink a glass of wine with dinner. I send out a few texts, make a few calls, and make sure to tell my husband that I love him (very much). Sometimes, I socialize, and when I do that, I do it really well. I think that all of these things could potentially contribute to my writing if I actually wrote in one of the three blogs I randomly keep on a regular basis. I’m not sure you’d be interested in reading any of it, but! I could. write. if I would. write.

I don’t feel as if I’m answering this question. Let’s push deeper! What don’t I want to tell you? Is that what this question begs? For my dirty secrets? Is this question wondering if I can quit the things that I would prefer to not speak about in writing? Well. I curse too much. I’m not always my most confident self. I sometimes think that I don’t deserve the magic things I have in life and, worse, I occaisonally think that I somehow deserve more.

So. If the question begs to know if I can stop doing these almost unspeakable things. I guess my answer is that I will certainly try. Bring on the try, twenty-eleven!

But. Y’know. I won’t make any concrete promises…

(Afterthought: Those right click thesaurus days were kind of awesome. I might bring back thesaurus abuse if I ever do start writing more.)

Let’s step away from the hair for a minute, shall we?  Or, rather, let’s delve into a more philosophical assessment that may (or may not) reflect on any style I created during this past year or propose for next.

For the month of December, I’m going to use this blog for reflective purposes to celebrate the passing of the first year of this new decade!  I will be participating in the Reverb 10 community during this month.  Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next.  Every day, I’ll be given a prompt from a different author to use to reflect on what’s happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead. I can respond to this prompt by tweet, post, or photo.

Let’s begin!

December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
(Author: Gwen Bell)

2010 was about becoming more open. Letting my obvious and very physical facts of 2010 pregnancy and it’s eventual outcome slide on by (too frank, too predictable, too true for this blog), I also found myself meditating on being more open to all the rapid changes that came about in my life.  I am open to being woken up every hour.  I am open to my schedule becoming unpredictable.  I am open to my house becoming a shamble-town.  On a deeper level, I am more open to hearing the stories of everyone around me as I turn my own story down to a lull.  I am opening in sensitivity and compassion.  I am opening the doors of my family to the future, to all the new characters that future will bring.  I am opening my arms to wrap around my son in protection.  I am opening my mind to ideas that I would never have considered before this new decade.

For 2011, I will concentrate on trust.  I am going with my gut.  I am figuring out how to parent by getting to trust the core of my authentic self.  I am learning how to trust my instincts, learning how to better trust my community, and building more trust with my partner.  I am trusting that I will stay gold on the darkest days.  I am trusting that the universe will give me cues on when to move on, or when to accept.  I am trusting that I will grow as a person and know ever-so-much more one year from today than I know now.  I am trusting that I will become, day by day, a person for my son to admire.  I am trusting that my roots will grow, deeper and deeper.