The Power of a Pomodoro

Some of you will click on this because you know what a Pomodoro is. Some of you will say what?! Well if you know, you know. And if you don’t, then I am about to share with you something that has changed my life twenty five minutes at a time.

My friend David first introduced me to the idea of a Pomodoro in about 2015. It’s a timed work session where you work twenty five minutes and then take a five minute break. I had been using timers to focus since about 2003 when I discovered FlyLady who was all about the 15 minute work session (in that case it was mainly about home tasks. I used it for home, work and everything.) I would get on such a roll with my Flylady 15 minute work sessions and later my Pomodoros that I would just keep going without breaks until I got burnout.

Enter altMBA. Also somethings David inspired me to do. During altMBA my peers starting bringing the Pomodoro technique to our collaborative Learning Groups. We would do pomodoros together. Emphasis on together. We would do a pomodoro and then talk during the five minute break about what wed accomplished and what we’d do next. One of my peers even had a Pomodoro timer that he somehow integrated into Zoom so we could also see where we were in the Pomodoro.

Full disclosure, I am in a pomodoro right now. I have six minutes and twenty three seconds left. It’s amazing how much I can get done in these work sessions. This time I am doing a “Pom” as we lovingly call it by now, we’ve earned the familiar nickname after all the days in and all the days out doing poms together since our February to March altMBA 30 day session.

This pom is with David. He’s 3000 miles away and just on the other side of the phone. Ever since altMBA ended, he and I “meet” for about 2 or 3 poms about four times a week. We tell each other what we’re going to do and then we do it. In my pom just now I knocked something off my to do list that’s been there over a year. Lingering and taking up space in my bullet journal and in my head and in my heart. And guess what?! It’s DONE! I scheduled a mammogram.

Sometimes the pomodoro accomplishments are big (launching my blog, making a dreaded phone call) sometimes they are small and essenital (emptying the dishwasher, eating a mindful lunch by myself in silence.) The power of the Pomodoro has much such an incredible difference in my life.

Have you ever tried a pomodoro? If not, i encourage you to give it a try! Set your timer for 25 minutes and go to town! Just make sure you stay focused on what you intended to do. And then, make sure you stop and regroup when the timer goes off.

I could write about this all day but with 5 seconds to spare, this is it for now. Beep!

Climbing laundry mountain

There used to be a bed in our office/guest room. Now it’s a magnet for anything that needs a random quick home. Most often it’s full of laundry. These past few weeks it’s become home to so much laundry it was hard - to the untrained eye - to know there was a bed under there. Our cat loved it. He nestled in there to rest and cuddle. I found myself thinking how could we ever fold - or gasp - put away - this laundry? How could we take this glorious coziness away from him?

I finally started calling it Laundry Mountain. And it’s true, if you build it, they will come. Day by day the mountain got bigger. Towels, sheets, kids clothes. (Not parent clothes, we keep those conveniently on the chair or shoved in the corner. Can you tell I’m thinking about writing an organizing book because I’m so organized?) 

I joked that we might have an extra child or pet buried under Laundry Mountain. I could almost visualize them in there. It was getting intense in here (oh yes, my desk has a mountain view. Laundry mountain view.) Have I also mentioned that recently we bought a whole bunch more laundry baskets? So on top of all the laundry on Laundry Mountain there were also laundry baskets full of clean laundry lining the walls and walkways in here. And also a drying rack full of air dry laundry. All clean! Just gloriously unfolded. 

And then a miracle happened. My eight and a half year old went to the toy store and saw all the Legos he wanted to buy. (We were there buying a birthday gift for his friend.) He started scanning his mental calendar for all the upcoming holidays where he might be getting a gift. With his birthday four long months away and Christmas even farther, he optimistically posed the question, “You sometimes give gifts for Fourth of July, right?”

My response, “Hmmm. Not really.” 

Then he started asking what jobs he could do to earn some money. I scanned the house thinking of things that needed to be done that would also be pay-worthy and Laundry Mountain came to mind. Aaaah!

And he was up for it. So this morning, he and I climbed Laundry Mountain together. I started small by having him hang all the stuff that needs to be hung on kids hangers. “This is satisfying,” he said. 

The I pre-sorted the washcloths, dishtowels and cloth napkins. I asked him to fold them any way he wanted to as long as they were sort of similar. Then he matched and balled up socks, “I quite like this,” he said.

Then as I found random things in other places around the room I started handed him random bunches of the above that he sorted. He was into it. I told him it was a “win-win” because I got to spend time with him. It was so peaceful. It was satisfying, I so agree with him. 

We got as far as kids pajamas. He matched tops and bottoms, separated into his pajamas and his sister’s. I showed him how to fold the tops and the bottoms Konmari style. He did it! Aaaaah.

I did forget to mention that after about 5 minutes working he asked me how long it had been. I decided he could ask me two times. So then he started being more thoughtful about asking. Then on one of his trips to the kitchen or linen closet to put things away, he came back smiling. One of his adorable/”I pulled one over on you, Mom” smiles. What? I asked. I did a time check, he said. Ha! He peeked at the oven clock. By now it was almost an hour.  

We had originally planned an hour of work. Then he said “I’m willing to work more.”

Please note there is still so much left and more downstairs in the dryer. It will never be done. I’m just loving the fact that I have a Lego-lover who wants to work to feed his lego habit. And that he finds laundry folding/sorting and putting away to be satisfying. 

Also, my husband offered to fold all the big towels and sheets and pillowcases. So I threw them all onto my desk chair where I am sitting right now. Chair laundry mountain was so tall it almost touched the ceiling. I had to ask my husband to move it so I could write this. Progress, people. Baby steps. 

Notice I did not say I climbed all the way to the top of Laundry Mountain. I took some baby steps and took my son along with me. 

How would you describe your laundry? A waterfall? A meadow? A desert?

A day off

Every time my Nanny - my beloved late paternal grandmother - left her house she’d make sure everything was off. She’d stop by her stove and say out loud every single time, “Off. Off. Off. Off. Off.” Thus ensuring that all four burners were off and that the oven was too.

I thought about this sweet memory of my Nanny this morning as I embarked on my planned rest day. I got my second COVID vaccine yesterday and I intentionally planned it on a day when I had nothing on the calendar the next day. Also my husband just got back from a 9 day 8 night business trip during which time I solo parented our 8 and 4 year old. I was more than ready to be off.

“Off. Off. Off. Off. Off.” I said to myself as I settled back into my bed after emerging only long enough for breakfast that my husband made for me.

It’s so easy to be “On. On. On. On. On.” and fall into the addictive cycle of doing. No matter how much needs to be done there’s always a chance to stop and turn off, even for a bit.

My intention is to plan more intentional off time. While this time was connected to COVID vaccine recovery time and post-solo-parenting marathon, I’m promising myself some even more intentional off time. I’m always happier, healthier and more at peace when downtime is built into my schedule. I’m so much cooler when I get to turn off the heat.

How do you turn off, off, off, off, off?

Books are my wings

Some friends gifted my four and a half year old daughter two books last weekend. And as their minivan pulled away she ran to the backyard with one book under each armpit. Flapping them up and down she proclaimed with great joy, “these are my wings.”

Aaaaah yes sweet girl, books are your wings.

Books are wings.

My love of reading began early. My absolute favorite childhood books is Bendemolina, The Cat Who Wore a Pot On Her Head. It’s the only book I still have from when I was little. And one I’ve loved reading to my children. Its blend of smart silliness and play with rhyme makes it a delight every time we read it. It’s about a cat who wears a pot on her head and can’t hear what her mom is saying. So she hears very silly things that rhyme with her mother’s instructions. 

When Mama cat says, “Bendemolina, “put the fish in to bake” Bendemoliona hears a series of wonderful rhymes until she decides that her mother must have said “put the soap in the cake.” Even as a 44 year old mother this brings me belly laughter every time I read it. (And full disclosure it’s the only thing in our move from Los Angeles to Western Massachusetts that I can’t find. Send me some light that Bendemolina appears! Oh how we miss her.) We also love playing Bendemolina which we made up, of course, where I give the kids instructions and they pretend to only hear what rhymes with what I’ve asked. This is my kind of fun.

As I wrote this I remembered another childhood favorite from the time when I was read to. I’ve vaguely thought of it through the years but it never occurred to me to look it up. Until now! Yippee! I knew it had something to do with a babysitter named George so I asked dear Google and oh how she delivered. (I do think Google is a she. She’s so smart and knows so many things. If you’ve read this blog faithfully you’ll remember in general I advise “Godding it” instead of “Googling it” but in this case Google delivered. I’m hoping God delivers in the Bendemolina department. (This too gives you a little peek into my relationship with God.) God, oh that’s funny, you are playing Bendomolina now too?! I am asking you to find my “Bendemolina book” and you are hearing “Mend-the-full-tina-hook!” Good one, God, good one. 

Me and God are cool like this. We can laugh together. 

Now back to the other book! So I searched Google for George babysitter children’s book and it appeared instantly! I recognized the cover as if I were seeing it again with my child eyes. The author’s name is Shirley Hughes, which I had not remembered. The name sounded so familiar. On intuition, I searched the name of one of the books I love reading to my children called “Alfie’s Christmas.” Voila!! Same author. Oh my goodness how magical and full circle this all is. 

I’m currently enjoying reading my kids Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls and Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls - 100 Immigrant Women Who Changed the World. It’s amazing and oh how far children’s literature has come in terms of inclusivity, diversity and equity. I’m working on getting our bookshelves more mindful in those departments. 

I know with all of my knowing that books are wings. They can transport us to places around the world, to feel and experience such depth and knowledge. I can’t wait to see my children’s journey with books continue to grow and take flights. And to share more about how reading has so much informed who I am. I can’t wait to share more with you. 

In the meantime, what books did you read as a young child? I’m thinking the chapter of your life before you were an independent reader. When you were read to. What do you remember? Have you read these books as an adult again? What’s that like?

Do you agree books are wings? Where do they take you?

Treat yourself to some time with a good book this weekend, my loves.

With love,

Melissa Renzi

PS - A friend suggested I turn comments on. Another friend suggested I do not. Thank you friends, you know who you are. Here’s my plan: I do not have comments turned on. That is intentional at this time. So for now, these questions are rhetorical for you to consider. Let them sink into your heart and see where they land. See what grows. If you feel called to reach out, you’re welcome to use the contact me form on the blog. I’d love to hear from you. 

Short and sweet and true

My husband’s birthday. A short post. A wonderful day. So much gratitude. And now time for sleep.

Always enough. Always.

Choosing peace

I went to the dermatologist today. It was easy and painless. She commended me for my healthy skin. Signs of old sunburn she said but overall looking great. Then tonight I felt a little bump on my face, tender to the touch. I asked my husband to look at it. He said it looked like a bug bite. I made him take a picture of it. It looks a little scary. Not a lot scary. I was literally just at the dermatologist and got a full clean report. So why am I blogging about this? Because I could so easily freak out right now. Especially because I am tired.

Instead, I am noticing. I am aware. As it happens I have another doctor appointment tomorrow for a lingering hissing in my ear. Same side. I will run it by the doctor. There is nothing I can do until then. I will honor the commitment to showing up here to post something. And this is what came forward. It was a long, full day and here I am at 10:35 pm. I am choosing to honor my commitment to Me and to you. To post this daily. To show up as I am. I am choosing peace. I am choosing to trust. I will report back I promise.

In the meantime, where can you choose peace in your life? How can you create some space to step back and notice how you are feeling? To observe your thoughts instead of being ruled by your thoughts?

It feels good to be the neutral observer of my life.

It feels good to be.

Good night my darling readers. Thank you for being with me on this journey of daily sharing.

Teaching my children the language of Love

Sunday March 24, 2019 | Santa Monica, California

My two year old falls asleep at night and says to me, “ten yoona-vussses.” And my head scrunches until it lands in recognition of the communication between mother and child, knowing after a moment, exactly what she means and why. My heart floods with joy.

Because of this. My six year old’s love proclamations go something like this:

“I love you more than the whole entire universe. More than new york city, More than all the skyscrapers.

I Love you more than ten universes, ten thousand universes, more than anything, more than that.”

And as I sit hear writing this, having just felt a few short moments ago that I’m leaving no physical imprint on this artist life of mine, I realize this is it.

That the love I have for my children and that they have for me, this is it. It may not be in ink or paint and we might not be able to hang it on the wall of a museum or find it on a NYT bestseller’s list. But it’s here and now in my children’s hearts, in their already complete hearts and souls. This is enough, I am enough. And they, they are more than enough. They are whole.

May 18, 2021 | Amherst, Massachusetts

Finding this piece of writing makes me smile on the inside. A glow of peace and joy. We still speak this language, the language of love, every single night. I kiss my sweet boy’s forehead every single night. And my sweet girl’s. It’s our thing. I go back and forth between their beds that are parallel in their shared bedroom. Sometimes I tell my son, “this kiss is the period on the end of the sentence of today.” He doesn’t respond to that one. I know he feels it. He doesn’t need to say a word. He feels it, experientially. The love of his mother.

No matter what happens in a day we always end it with love. He is still repeating back to me the “ten universes” I wrote of years ago. In his own 8.5 year old way. I tell him I love him more every minute, that I love him exactly the way he is. At night is when I say the things. All day I live the things. doing my best to show up with compassion and wholeheartedness, embracing all the feelings and sounds and duties of motherhood.

“You love me a quarter of the universe more every minute.” Yes, that’s exactly right. As if there’s a precision to the vastness of my love.

My daughter hears all this, absorbing it in her own way. She and I have different conversations, infinitely magic in their own unique ways. I’ll share those here too.

It feels so good to be sharing from the vaults of my heart and from the vision of my soul. This, too, is the imprint of this artist life of mine.

How do you share your love with the world?

Are there words for it? Or is it the way you live? Serve? Give? Show up?

There are so many ways to share you love. Yours is so important. Share it. Be it.

Commitment always wins

Aaaah! I did it! I’m doing it. I’m here showing up and shipping each and every day. Sometimes I write something from scratch. Sometimes I am going to my treasure box of years of journals. Sometimes I look in my phone notes app or my email inbox or my desktop where I have folders of writing. Here are three things I’ve learned in these 2 weeks of blogging:

1- Commitment always beats perfectionism

Perfectionism has no chance when my commitment is so big. I am here to show up every single day. Whether it’s a long new post or a late night dictated from my bed as I’m about to go to sleep. The answer is yes, it’s always enough. I could stop and write the perfect post once a month or I could show up every single day. Here I am. Commitment wins. There will always be things I want to improve. Right now, that little improving voice can wait because you know what? Mama’s busy shipping. You can talk to me after I ship. 

2- Sharing reminds me who I am

This commitment to share daily has me deeply connected to Me. There are moments when I feel like I have nothing to say. Then I check one of my resources - a journal, a harddrive, a notes app and I find soooo much there. So very much. It’s so inspiring. I am feeling so connected to who I am and my Creativity. Little signs are appearing all around me: a mom at school asking me would I consider teaching a writing workshop. Two separate other instances of moms telling me about writers groups. When I show up as Me the world responds. It’s magnetic. The flow of sharing continues. I can’t wait to see where it leads me. 

3- Going beyond fear is so energizing

There have been moments where I’ve had a little cringe of Ooh should I share that? Some of my deeply personal poetry. Once I get over that little cringe of fear it’s so liberating. Fear has a way of stopping. Or putting up a wall. If I listened to that fear I would not be hear. When I honor the commitment and share daily, I feel so liberated. I feel free and expansive. It’s okay to honor that feeling (okay, little one, I hear you. And it’s okay to be scared. The key is to be scared and do it anyway. To be with the fear instead of ruled and stopped by the fear.) 

I can’t wait to see where this flow takes me in a month, a year or even 10? Wow. 

See you tomorrow. Because you know I’ll be here.

Share Your Heart Song

Inner knowing raises her hand. I call on her right away. This way, this way, come right here. Sit on my lap and I’ll lend you my ear. Will you please steer me along?

She sings her song and it goes like this: You’re doing your thing. Your art is one wing and your writing is another. Share them both and you will fly.

But why?! Can’t I just hide here in the corner? (Pulling my scarf up over my eyes and peeking out one wide eye at a time.)

She answers in sweet unison, the voice of inner knowing plus my divine light glowing. She says to me without missing a blink and one sweet wink.

“Do you think these gifts are for you? Your fear is glue. You are just the vessel. Open the dam, let your inspiration flow through and beyond.”

And just like that, she waved one flick of her magic wand and was gone.

Until I turned the page and she began to appear, one stroke of my Tombow pen at a time. And she had one more thing to tell me. This is especially sweet because it’s the last page of one of my first ever Said the Butterfly Studio Self Care for your Creative Soul journals. This is original artwork and writing created by me, Melissa Renzi, with love on April 3, 2019 at one of my favorite cafes in Los Angeles.

Thank you for following along, I encourage you, too, to share your heart song.

So much love,

Melissa

How old are you in your heart?

January 13, 2019

Good morning from the glider and I’m feeing my heart grow wider—released from the clutches of fear and comparison. Letting myself be gentler with myself and trusting Spirit more. It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s all ok. Keep writing, keep writing, stop fighting with yourself and remember to change the channel. A panel of judges could easily live within you stopping you from doing everything. And instead I welcome my allies and angels.

Come on in, make yourself at home. Let’s fly together. Where do you want to go? Towards the snow? Heave ho! Onwards to clarity and calm. Leave behind the jungle of judgement. Way past fear it’s clear. An army of doves holding you on the wings of love.

Share this, my love. For you are the dove. And keeping your art in your heart is too heavy. It’s time for light. It’s time for letting go and flying towards the snow. It’s time to be me, wild and free, even when wild and free to me is this pen on the page alone in my home in the morning.

I’m forty-two. And you? How old are you in your heart? Shine your heart star. Go far, go far. Walk on the stars from where you came, play the game and dance the dance. This life is not chance, it’s all divine artistry crafted for the highest good. And I surrender my part. I give my piece of the world puzzle up. Up, up and away floating into the future that is now, now, now. And wow. When I realize time passes I want to hold it and kiss its sweet head and get out of bed and live this precious life to the fullest.

-Melissa Renzi

The Real Diamonds in the Treasure Box of My Life

When my son was 3 months old, for my first Christmas as a mother, my husband gave me a pair of diamond earrings. I’m positive it’s the most he’s ever spent on any one single item. I wonder if it was more than my engagement ring, but I’m not sure and nor do I really care. I mention the cost to heighten the value of this precious gift. 

I wore the earrings day in and out. As a new mama, I was also discovering that any jewelry - whether it be a necklace or dangling earrings - would be grabbed and pulled so the diamond studs were the perfect go to jewelry for every day.  A little sparkle and no temptation to grab for my little one. I loved those earrings and wore them day in and day out.

Four and a half years later, we came home from the park one afternoon to find our back window open. At that time, we entered the house that way because the mudroom was all the way in the back. It was so much easier to enter through the expanse of the yard and drop all the gear either outside or in the mudroom. Oh no. Window open. I didn’t leave the window open. Oh wait, yes I did. I had left it cracked about six inches with a slim window fan in. Living in the heart of West Los Angeles between Olympic Blvd and Santa Monica, I was not new to the fears of a house being broken into. But after living in that house for a few years with no problems, I got a little too comfortable. Six inches too comfortable to be exact. I felt ok with those six inches because there was a little window stopper security thing a former tenant must’ve added that I was convinced would not allow the window to open farther than that. This made me feel safe leaving ONE slim window fan in one window to cool our hot-as-an-oven house in the heatwave that is a Los Angeles fall. 

That Wednesday evening I found out I was wrong. Someone had found a way to force the window open wide enough for someone to climb through. 

I had been just coming home from the park with my two kids, my son was then 5 and my daughter was just over 1. My husband was an hour away at work.

I knew this meant our house had been broken into. I did not know if there was anyone still inside. I called 911. I was on the phone with 911 when a family walked by. A mom, dad and their 4 boys. I did not know them but I had seen them in passing on walks once or twice. I reached out to the mother while 911 was still ringing. I explained what had happened to the mother in as few words as I could muster while also somehow watching my own kids. 

I reached for her arm. This woman I’d only barely seen was my lifeline. Someone to be with me in this moment of fear and shock. Not just any human, a mother. She let me hold her arm and looking back that touch, that support held me up. Once I hung up, she immediately went into action. I must’ve spoken to 911 but barely remember the details. The 911 people told me to wait outside until police arrived to check the house. The mother offered to wait with me until the police arrived. Even better, she’d leave her husband and kids with us. And she ran home to get snacks and water for my kids as by now it was well after dinnertime. I called her my angel and I know she was. 

The police came and went and this dear woman and her family finally left too, after handing with us for the long haul. We exchanged numbers. Her name was Dorothea.

The robbers took ALL of my jewelry. I had just organized my jewelry the Friday before this, less than a week before. All of my jewelry was hung in hanging jewelry bag and neatly placed in pouches. All the jewelry I’d collected for my whole life, from places around the world and friends and family. Including those diamond earrings.

There’s so much more I could say about this experience - how the shock really left a sense of violation and trauma in me. A feeling that I couldn’t leave my windows open even when I was home. It led to us getting a Ring security camera in the front and back and an alarm system. Never again would I just unlock my door or turn my phone or go out without my phone. I became hyper-vigilant about checking the Ring alerts on my phone and the SimplySafe alerts. Turning the alarm code on became my bait to get the kids out the door when we were in a rush (I am not proud of this, yet it happened because the alarm had a countdown.)

Now we live in Western Massachusetts. That feeling is a thing of the past. Less than 2 years after this incident we decided once and for all to leave Los Angeles. This was a piece of the puzzle of our decision, by no means all of it. 

When we were packing up our house I found a little white box. Inside was the original box the diamond earrings had come in all those years ago. I opened the box - knowing all too well nothing would be in there. I knew the earrings had been in the hanging jewelry organizer that I’d unknowingly made it so easy for the robbers to run off with. But… there was something in there. A little piece of torn wrapping paper with a handwritten note. 

“To the love of my life xoxo” in my husband’s handwriting. Wow. 

While I’m still sad those sparkly studs are gone forever, no one can ever take away my memories. My husband, the new papa who bought me those earrings. The angel-woman who held me up that evening and fed my kids snacks… whose presence gave me such peace of mind and comfort. (And who I became good friends with. Our sons were in kindergarten classrooms next door to each other the following year and we spent many an afternoon in her backyard sipping delicious coffee and sharing stories.) 

That piece of torn wrapping paper and these memories are the real diamonds in the treasure box of my life.

Is this enough?

Is it enough to dictate this from my bed? It’s the very last thing of my day. Honoring a commitment to myself and you. I really just wanted to get in bed and read about an hour ago after a very long strung together several days. I keep thinking of the quote that it’s easier to do something 100% of the time than 99% of the time. For me this is true. So here I am. So yes this is enough. It’s more than enough. One day I will refine this and and and and and. For now it’s the showing up. The consistency. I can’t risk 99%. I’m all in.

What do you think? Do you agree? Is it easier to do something 100% of the time than 99% of the time?

What would happen if 99% was enough? That one percent gets real slippery real fast. Mudslide. Avalanche. One day becomes months becomes years. I am here for the practice and the commitment.

I am thinking of Julia Cameron‘s prayer in the artists way.

“ God take care of the quality. I’ll take care of the quantity.”

This is my quantity. So yes. It’s enough. It’s more than enough.

The Sky of my Being

By Melissa Renzi

Sitting here looking at the sky

The one out the window

And the one here within

The sky of this blank page

The sky of my being

Here all alone in the

Vast expanse of time

From skipping amongst the stars

To this life, the one with cars

And human things, like wedding rings.

Today I invite God to join me

As I walk through this crazy time

The place so different

And yet so the same

God please, take my hand

Show me where to go

God, tell me what to say

God, help me treasure what matters

And let go of what doesn’t

God, sometimes I shatter

My very own heart

By caring too much about

things that don’t matter

And forgetting the things that do

Who am I? Dancing

Between these two worlds,

Or three? The heart and the mind,

The earth and the heavens

My job—the career, occupation

My mothering —my role to these

Dear children

My Me-ness —my bliss

And how and when to do it all

And still have time to breathe

And still have space to grieve

For everyday I lose so much

And gain even more

Lord, please, tell me what’s in store

Will the world heal?

Will this pandemic steal

The joy of our lives?

Keep us away from the ones we love most?

Or can we rise? And greet it with love?

Can I release a single white

Dove to fly up above,

Spreading love sweet love

Life is a gift and a mystery

And you can juggle and dance

Tell the truth if you goof

Take a chance

Do your dance

If you drop a ball or two

or three or eleven

no worries my love

I’ll be here to help you

From heaven

Your only mistake is that

You thought you were alone

I am here, darling,

I am here

And now that you’ve

invited me in

This is a win, win, win

For now you can see me

All the ways I’m guiding

and Godding.

Don’t Google it, baby, God it.

 Got it? I god it.

I trust the process of life

As mother, human and wife

As divine being at once skipping among the stars

In the sky

As human doing human things

Oh darling remember,

You do have wings

There for you when you need them

Sweet, sweet, freedom

To elevate and escalate

And raise you from the muck

When you are stuck

And saying what the fuck

Rise, sweet soul, rise,

You are so very wise

No matter what it is

It’s just a blip

Pandemic or pancakes,

Public health crisis,

Individual and collective

Invitation to heal

To feel, feel, feel

To reach out to the ones

We love the most

To look into the eyes

Of those most wise,

In my case, my cat

Perched right here watching me

Gazing into his soul

I am whole

My children sweet children

When the whole world is

running, they are still,

seeing the thrill

in a rock and a stick

the possibility of an

acorn

Oh, God, I’m torn

I don’t know if I need to mourn

Or celebrate

What to do about all the hate

I inflict on myself

Making life harder

Thickening my guard

Or dear god

Shall I soften? How often

Do I melt and laugh

I am at least a half

million times more

intelligent when I am

in the love.

Oh God, thank you

for taking care of me,

thank you for taking care

of us. You got this.

I got this.

We God this.

We. God. This.

Note: I wrote this last March 2020 as pandemic life was new and raw. Things were heating up on all levels. It felt scary. I am grateful I rose early and put the pen to page. This poem changed my life. Looking back I realize this poem was a prayer that set the tone of 2020 for me. It helped me let go of what no longer served me in ways I could’ve never controlled or planned. It helped create space for me to be there with my family and for the opportunities life would serve up in the coming months.

What are you praying for? If you don’t know, put the pen to the page and see what comes out. God is listening. I shared it quietly with a few friends by email. I wasn’t ready to share beyond that. I am now. Then, this prayer was between me and God. I am grateful to share it with you here and now. Don’t limit yourself to what the earthly answers are. Don’t look outside of yourself for the answers. Look inside. Listen deeply. Be open to a higher possibility, stay connected to the truth of who you are: part of something bigger. Don’t Google it baby, God it.

Time to Meditate

There will be days when I don’t want to show up here. This is one of them. And here I am. I am feeling called to meditate. And I am resisting that too. A classmate asked me this weekend if I was meditating. I said no. True answer. I am doing so many other things. And not making time for that. 

I had to run out earlier to get gas. I was on empty. I was feeling irritable pulling up to the tank and said outloud to myself: “I need to find a gas station that doesn’t have these TVs.” These TVs being these superloud screens built into the pump with ads and cheap TV. The volume is so beyond loud that I have to concentrate so hard to find where to put my credit card, push what button etc. I wish these were illegal. It’s like noise pollution.

As I slowed the car down and stopped, I heard the TV. Irritation increased after thinking about these TVS to actually hearing it’s annoying blare. And much to my surprise, here’s what I heard:

“Studies show that just 7 to 10 minutes of meditation….” And on screen I read something about Maria Menounos who must be the host of this gas station network programming and on screen it read something like “increases feelings of peace.”

Wow.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

The message to meditate found me. It reached me in the place I least expected it. I am open to the messages of the world to find me and guide me. Before I went to sleep last night I set an intention and said a small prayer, “God, what do you want me to know?”

I think God wants me to meditate. I listened. I came home and meditated for 3 minutes sitting on my couch with my sleeping cat next to me. I peeked and opened my eyes a few times. I was aware that the timer was on, that I only had three minutes. When I peeked I noticed how beautiful the trees out my window look layering like a painting.

Soon I have an important meeting and I have 14 minutes before that to post this and make a cup of tea. My intention is to trust that each moment, each second, there is plenty of time. That I have plenty of time to breathe, be and meditate.

I was on empty earlier in my car and I was feeling on empty too. Meditating empties me out and fills me up too. With a lightness, with a freedom, with a sense of the possibility and beauty in each moment. 

Have you meditated lately? Or ever? Do it. Give yourself a few minutes and begin. Don’t wait for Maria Menounos to tell you at the gas station, or whatever superloud blaring messenger will find you. 

What punctuates your life?

On May 3, 2001 I pulled away from my parents Wyncote, PA home in the suburbs of Philadelphia. I drove away in my 1996 Toyota Corolla towards the west coast where at the time I thought I was moving for a year. My blueberry iMac was in the car as was my 2 x 4 foot wall sculpture that I’d made in my senior year sculpture class at the Art Barn at Bucknell. I was 24 years old. (Until I started this blog I always thought I was 25. I didn’t slow down to notice I was just 24. I’m so amazed at her courage, younger Me.)

On May 10, 2001 I arrived in Palos Verdes Estates, CA where I was moving to. I spent my first day there printing out pictures from the road trip. I drove to the Galleria mall because I found a one hour photo printing place at a Ritz camera there. I sat alone in my car in a McDonald’s parking lot and looked at the pictures. 

As you know, on May 3, 2021 I launched this blog. And today, on May 10, 2021, just a week later, I am celebrating the fact that I have honored my commitment to mySelf to post here everyday. I am still not sure what this will be. For now I am honoring the practice of sharing my creativity, my poetry, my heart. The commitment to put myself out there. I am 44 years old, married to my amazing, joyful husband and I have two light-filled children (ages 8.5 and 4.5) who amaze me every single day with their wisdom and heart. 

I am tempted to apply some structure to this. And one day I might. For now, I am letting it breathe. Writing helps me breathe. To find the space within my life and my world to pause and reflect. To notice how I feel. To clear my mind and fill a page. To overcome the fear of failure that goes hand in hand with each and every creative endeavor out there. And by creative, I mean everything, much more than the traditional art, music, dance, film. All of those things are creative of course. I believe creativity is the way you live your life. Life is your canvas. (And the way I live my life, life is my canvas.) As Gemma would say, “Every moment is a painting.” Soon you’ll meet Gemma. I’ll get there. (She’s smiling in my heart saying, “Aaaah Love.”)

As I write this, I am standing at my almost-fully-ergonomic standing desk setup. My blueberry iMac from all those years ago is a thing of the past. Now I have my silver MacBook plugged into my monitor. The Toyota Corolla is also a thing of the past. I’m on my 4th car since then! Through the years I got a Toyota Matrix, then a Prius, then a RAV4. See the Toyota trend? When we moved here to Western MA I got my first ever non-Toyota, a Honda CRV. I am a creature of habit - as creative as I am - habit and steadiness give me roots to flourish. I miss my Toyotas I have to say. 

These details remind me how much can change in two decades. My whole world opened up in Los Angeles in a way I could’ve never imagined. This week I’ll tell you more.

May is like a birthday for me.  A time to reflect on my journey. Like a punctuation mark or a chapter beginning so I can pause and notice how much has changed.

What punctuates your life? How do you know when one chapter is ending and another is beginning? What marks your decades beginning and ending in the book that is your life? 

Motherly Love

There’s so much to be said today, Mother’s Day. To my own dear mom, I love you. (I loved and treasure our heartfelt talk this morning.) To Gemma, on what would have been her 98th birthday, to all the mothers in the world. Those who mother children, pets and who offer motherly love in their lives. To my mother in love who is spending the day with her son, my husband. And our sweet children. 

Motherly love. Aaaaah.

Today I am giving myself some motherly love by taking my 2nd weekend of Consciousness, Health and Healing at the University of Santa Monica. This is the 3rd year of my Spiritual Psychology experiential education. I am learning and living this healing, this love, this way of seeing and being. I am so grateful.

I am on the meal break right now and had a nourishing meal, took a soul-filling walk around the block and am here, honoring this commitment to mySelf and to you.

Here’s to all the mothers today and everyday. 

How will you give yourself some motherly love today? How will you nourish yourself? How will you fill your soul?

Oh Majestic One, Let’s Have Some Fun

by Melissa Renzi

Oh majestic one, let’s have some fun

What shall we do today? Ready to play?

I know! Let’s release some fears

Put on your swimsuit, we’ll have a hoot

Decades of voices

Limiting your choices

In your majesty you will see

You’ve always been free

So hop in the pool

You are such a jewel

God’s treasure

And really there is no measure

For the endlessness of love that you are

My shining, shining star

When you shine your inner gold

You never get old

In fact you get young

Stick out your tongue

And I’ll be there holding your hand

And one day, you’ll go to the beach

The whole world within your reach

These are not things I can teach

You know, darling, you just know

Until you forget and I’m here to remind you

Chew your food darling

Savor each bite of this sweet, sweet life

When you’re all in it’s a sin

To put only one big toe in

Jump right in you sweet, sweet soul

Your whole life is waiting for you

And you are here to say

Oh majestic one, let’s have some fun

What shall we do today? Ready to play?

-Melissa Renzi, August 2019

Roam in the Fields of Your Heart

all the sounds of the bugs and birds

the feeling of all the words

arriving from somewhere

such sheer splendor

or do i know them already...

and it's time to remember

such sweet deja vu

writing the poems of my life

writing what is true

and living it, too

i've lived this before

and yet for the first time

in poem and rhyme

taking my sweet time

to live this life exactly how i want

even on days when i just want to grunt

there is always time to come home to Me

i see you darling, wild and free

come home, come home

come roam in the fields of your heart

come sip some coffee, come make some art

come draw and write

come sit and listen

come remember

who you really are

you shining, shining star

all the lights of the stars in the sky

the feeling of wondering why, why

hearing the answers

in knowing heart prancers

galloping by

sigh, sigh

-Melissa Renzi, August 2020

Not knowing. A beautiful way to live.

Right now

I am sitting here with 4 journals to my left. Four journals from four different chapters of my life. All together, are they a book? A series of books? They are me. They are my life in pen on paper. I sat at the kitchen table and read through them and got lost in time and space. I was there. I was there. 

My first known journal is from 1994. My sister gave it to me as a high school graduation present. She knows me so well. I have it here. It’s full of song lyrics, winnie the pooh quotes and deep, deep thoughts. It’s full of me playing with words and language. It’s full of me processing my life: from a road trip after my senior year of high school to my first boyfriend. It’s full of entries from 1994-5 and then filled in with entries in all the blanks spaces from 1999. Here’s one that jumped out at me as my allotted time to work on this was coming to a close. I needed to jump in, choose and share. Here we go. Join me. 

January 24, 1999

It is the pages stuck into the bind

That show the overflow, the extras, the added, the little things as we like to call them that are actually the big things, deemed worthy by a second’s thought that turns into a later appreciation and recollection of who were were just then, as we thought to save a line, a page, a memory, a time. 

That can’t escape thoughts because they’re there to disrupt the clean lines of pages lying together in their flat parallel lives, ornamented by worn and torn touch. It is the pages that make. That make. That make me realize that looking at the almost filled pages of this book are the times that I know I have lived. And now I revisit, remind, smile, fill in voids of questions and laugh at the answers I thought I knew all along and realize I’ll never know — not knowing. A beautiful way to live. — in the yes, mysteries of this world — a walking talking interrogation of trees, of rooftops looming, of sidewalks staring, of faces feeling. Just seeing is reason enough for me. And the way each of us sees is even more of a reason.

Right now

Ahhhhh. I want to go hug her. Me. I think I was 22 without stopping to do the math. I know so much now about not knowing. So much that I now know I know nothing. And she knew so much. She knew. She just knew. It was in her way of being. 

Let’s try it together

I invite you to join me

To embrace the not knowing

The unknown

It’s thrilling to be both excited and scared

That’s exactly how I feel

It’s a beautiful way to live

My inner perfectionist is having a hell of a time with this

This blog is a labor of love.

A weight off my chest.

A release.

A place to share, grow and stretch.

It scares me.

It excites me.

I am showing up, leveling up and shipping.

I am sharing my gifts with the world.

I’ve been slowly sharing it with people. Kind of like I slowly shared the news of each of my pregnancies. Now my children are 8.5 and 4.5 years old. Their lives are healthy, full and robust. One day my blog will be healthy, full and robust, too.

For now it’s growing like a little seed.

One day it will be a whole field of wildflowers

I’m giving it space to grow

To breathe

To decide who it will be

To let it take shape

I’m giving myself permission to put it out into the world as it is

Unedited

Unpolished

Un-held onto for years and years and years

I have been writing since I can remember

I have always observed the world as an artist

Seeing its beauty

Holding it in my heart

Writing it down in journal after journal

Poems, streams of consciousness, morning pages, memoir beginnings

Children’s stories, documentations of my children’s milestones

Binders of sketches and ideas and plans

Stacks of paintings

Portfolios of artwork

Part of me has not shared because I was busy doing so many other things. Building a career, supporting myself, having children, raising them, supporting my family. Becoming the me that I am now. Becoming Me.  

Part of Me didn’t share because I wasn’t sure what to call it or what to do with it all. The weight of wanting so badly to share something and knowing wholeheartedly it will one day have a life of its own and make a difference in someone’s life (I’m looking at you Relentless the Dream Follower and Good Things Darling and Oh Majestic One.) The fear of showing up fully and wholeheartedly. The fear of revealing just how much I care about so many things. The fear of revealing just how spiritual I am. God appears in a lot of my poems. One day I’ll tell you more about that and what God means to me. Here’s a preview. It means everything. As in to me God is in everything. It’s so much bigger and deeper and richer than the walls of the Catholic Church I was raised within. Call it Universe, Spirit, higher power, the all of the all (my new favorite expression). I believe God is in all of us and everything. The force in the life force that we all share, that we all come from. As Gemma would say, “Look for the God and the good in everyone.” That’s God. I haven’t introduced you to Gemma yet. Oh I will. 

Today I am letting you know that my hope is bigger than my fear.

My strength of heart is stronger than my urge to hide.

My inner perfectionist is having a hell of a time with this.

She wants me to revise this and polish this. She wants you to know how smart I am and what a great writer I am.

I want you to know I am here, showing up and honoring a commitment to myself.

I am here giving light to the love that is so alive in so much of my writing.

I am here.

I am.

Thank you.