Vibrantly insightful and meditative quotes and phrases by Paula Thrall. Moments of solitude that speak one woman's instinctive clarity of passion as she writes about her visions and reflections on her journey through motherhood:
...and seemingly from nowhere, the wild sparkling mother appeared and so brilliant were the words and pictures that she saw and felt that she envisioned a magic quilt woven with a thousand invisible threads and immediately her hands began to quiver and shake like an old woman who drank to much coffee."
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I don’t need a publisher to spread my words to the whole wide world, what I need is a little web of women to help me spin my stories.
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What feminism needs right now is to hear the voice of mothers. We need to reach down deep and go beyond the roar of everyday chores, kids hollerin and screamin -- and broadcast our spill everywhere like a bowl of milk and cheerios on the kitchen floor.
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So when exactly was it that housework and domestic chores became dirty words? How far back? I don’t understand why cleaning gets such a bad rap. After all, Cinderella did the chores and got what she wanted in the end--no one ever asks where her lazy stepsisters ended up. I mean, think of our ancient cave-sisters…wouldn’t it be better to hang out with your little ones, sweeping, keeping the fire and offering prayers for a good meal to come home rather than worrying about whether the dinner you are trying to catch catches you first?
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Winter Memory: Today while sliding on the ice with my daughters, I remembered that my father taught me to ski and climb mountains while my mother showed me how to prepare for the cold.
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I stopped watching Oprah the day I realized I have my own production company and network of angels. But I still love that woman dearly.
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Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just regurgitating other people’s words, like a Mother Bird who chews up her food before she spits it into the mouths of her young.
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The Old Man in me haunts and taunts me with his fiery old broomstick, but the Old Woman smothers me with oceans of her kisses. I suppose that is why when I am doing housework, I dream about lounging at the beach.
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Some people write to become a writer. I write to become a Mother.
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My ears sometimes feel like giant satellite dishes bringing in all the noise of the universe. And my eyes are like two ton crystal balls that have seen too many bad movies. It makes me want to go shopping for ear muffs and dark glasses.
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In my Obsessing
about my Doing,
and my Making,
I try hard not to forget
about my babies Crying
and my house that needs Cleaning.
It is in this Remembering
that I am BECOMING.
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I used to drink coffee, so much coffee, just to stay awake. Then one day I finally woke up and the world began to speak to me. My eyes were wide open, but I thought surely I must be dreaming, because the ugliness all around me seemed so beautiful, and suddenly I became afraid and I thought, How can this be? And so the next morning, I drank tea.
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Before I was born, I was like a white diamond waiting to be hatched. Then when I was born, I was like a lump of coal, waiting to shed the layers of black and dust to reveal the shiny perfect diamond inside. Now, it seems all I do is dream like a white diamond incubating and my hands are getting dirty trying to get my sparkle back.
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