the power of lice

Underneath my oak tree at the Sherman Beach overlooking Candlewood Lake, I sat in my canvas chair prior to the first day of school listening to other moms summon the curse of lice upon them. In my Evangelical insistence to not activate that vibration, it was I, or more accurately my children, to whom the lice flocked. The years and years of misconception and condemnified debt of those stricken with lice during my school years had all, in that one moment, been karmically delivered. These infinitesimal parasites that only live off of a human head are not "The Plague" as the school nurse explained. All things considered, however,  in our hermetically sealed Western civilization I beg to differ. Had this occurred two years ago I would have dropped dead of a heart attack. Mortification coupled with the sheer incredulity that something so minuscule could result in so much upheaval and inconvenience. The empathetic coos from other mothers in hopes to assuage embarrassment , "...Lice prefer clean heads..." go into the gutter...because, lets face it, unless a scalp is swimming in olive oil no amount of naturally occurring scalp grease can deter a louse. Had my children's state of personal hygiene been more thorough I can bet that my perspective on lice would remain dormant.

holy shit this sucks...

Upon initial impact I dare say that the size of my house impacted the degree of my protruding eyeballs as my head wrapped around the miles and miles of laundry and house cleaning that lied ahead. It also didn't help that two hours prior to this discovery I had made a proclamation denouncing all worldly possessions at the desire to live in a tee pee preferably located on a nudist reservation. I wouldn't put myself past it if I didn't have such a fetish for my kick-ass boots or derive so much enjoyment by conveying my daily moods through my palate of textiles and colors.


These creatures, compounded by the arrival of our puppy who was suffering from a rapid purge of cat food, tested my faith in the Universe. How was I going to be able to apply the concept of gratitude amidst this scenario? What is the purpose of lice? How did they get here. This is not my house. This is not my life....I begged a friend for a merciful drive by de-licing with a can of gasoline and a match. Quietly however, the hours of combing, picking and washing hair allowed a counter intuitive force of baboonish nurturing to envelope us. Focusing on each individual task helped alleviate the immensity of the whole.

Cetaphil encrusted heads lay on the freshly laundered linens as I teetered on the cresting and periodic wave of insanity. Trevor's impish voice could be heard from his side of the quarantined room as he learned that he would be issued a leave of absence from the next day of school, "Thank you Universe...may I have some more?" he giggled in perfect comedic timing. Much to their disappointment, however, lice do not warrant a two week absence. Once realizing that this also prevented any circulation for the entire weekend, the next day his sense of friendless-asphyxiation settled deep. Contact was at a minimum due to the sheer ferocity of my need to purge; The kids had to guard their possessions closely. Any time spent on the phone would mean that their kingdom of toys could be pillaged. My friends knew that I would be too busy to talk. Either that or they were afraid to make me cry. "Mom, look at the clouds....I feel as if we are the only family left alive, " Trevor remarked.

So, as it turns out my gears started to turn once my husband returned from five days away. Progress achieved once I could tackle these rooms and laundry without interruption. Then momentum kicked in and projects started branching further from the source. The cat barf on the carpet was finally removed, the blue tape on the window hardware peeled off after three years of contemplating a second coat, overstuffed bins of unused toys were unceremoniously escorted out of the house bag by bag. Terror in my children's eyes brought them to a state of solidarity with intuitive reasoning that they had to work as a team to avoid further dissolution of mommy's state of sanity. This brusque state of  household resurrection was aided by other wonderful addendum of grass cutting and garage cleaning, door installations and weather stripping, dresser refinishing and refrigerator cleaning. The power of lice is really quite extraordinary.

It was only after the siege had passed did I realize the immensity of what I had experienced. From the onset the lens on my camera was enabled with gratitude...looking to make sense of these conditions and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I was being selected to undergo this test. The biggest realization though was that only when my husband mentioned how much he was looking forward to a beer at the end of the day did it strike me that never once did I feel the need to alleviate this discomfort with alcohol. My three years of meditation and the last year of removing alcohol from my repertoire held fast....diving deep into the dark recesses to cleanse and purify in combination with gratitude of living moment to moment we were rewarded with trinkets of joy that had gone missing months prior - symbols of loving appreciation that the Universe does deliver in ways even better that you could conjure on your own.

The Universe's symbolic gesture

Don't get me wrong...I wouldn't readily welcome a repeat performance of this experience. I wouldn't even wish this on my worst enemy...not that any exist. However, the cues from the Universe that prompted us into action and mobilized the troupes delivered a great sense of cohesion and unity. In the seemingly arduous tasks and responsibilities of which we have no control over, we are given a choice of perception. By grounding in gratitude no matter the circumstances, appreciation and beauty can be excavated.

Tatum after undergoing lice treatment plan

mrs. brown

Mrs. Brown retired last spring. She snuck out under the radar by announcing her plans at the last minute so as not to cause too much ruckus and fanfare. Relinquishing her 15 year post as kindergarten teacher was not a decision that came easily. However, she was comforted by thoughts of being able to spend more time in Maine...a place that is dear to both of us.

Just as with hundreds of other Sherman families, Judy lovingly guided my children through their first year of school. Her love, kindness and patience must have originated somewhere close to the town of Whoville; the Saintly sort of disposition that opens her classroom, her heart, her understanding smile and eyes not only to her fledgling children but the brittle mothers who are doing the commando crawl to the threshold of her door.

The first time I set eyes on this classroom was ten years prior...before my husband and I were even engaged. "Quintessential", I noted...hoping someday my children would have the privilege of attending this school. Ten years later I had tears streaming down my face as it struck me that I was in the exact classroom I had daydreamed into. During the parent teacher conference, Judy exalted all of my children's amazing gifts and talents; just like at Disney there were seemingly never any faults to be found.

We gravitated to her house every Halloween and to her classroom every year to catch some of her positive vibe as if it would lend us a power boost of good fortune. Her smile radiated acceptance and affection regardless of reading ability, tying vs. velcro, gender or age. Peers, parents and children alike were all treated with unwavering love. There is a piece of our hearts that Judy is able to touch with her smile and presence.

At at time when my youngest was in her class I wrote an entry into my  former "Inspiration Journal" that I will share with you today. It seems a pertinent entry at the eve of another school year synchronized with the resounding joy I glean from her acceptance to enjoy some time at our home on the coast of Maine. I know she is wearing her Heart chakra necklace her husband gifted her for her latest birthday. I know she is standing at the kitchen sink overlooking the four-trunked birch tree that was the inspiration for this entire JewelTree of Life series. It is a piece of the puzzle finding it's way home into a cohesive expression of appreciation.

2/19/08 - My daughter, Tatum spent 20 minutes this morning carefully drawing a picture of a windy day. The wind made with a black magic marker line swirled in random circular patterns surrounding a single figure drawn in green. She clothed this figure in orange and took great pride in signing her name at the bottom. She asked if I might sign her teacher's name at the top. Tatum folded the picture up, skittered over to the desk and before I knew it had found a perfect envelope, sealed it and wrote her name again on the cover. She looked over her shoulder with a pencil poised in her small right hand and asked, "Mommy, how do you spell ' I love you?'

Tatum loves her teacher, Mrs. Brown just as I loved my first grade teacher Mrs. Kitson. It is a love I can't really quite seem to fathom even to this day. I find myself becoming overwhelmed with emotion even at the thought of her kindness, caring and peace she radiated. When I graduated from College I went back to my elementary school in Riverside, CT and brought her one single Delphinium; A flower that I felt captured her height, grace and gentle aura. I walked into the school not even knowing for sure if she still taught there but trusting my instincts that she did. The front office staff directed me to her classroom where she sat at the end of a busy day. She was by herself. I came unannounced, could barely utter a word, couldn't even tell her who I was but just hoped that she would remember who this 5'10" body might have, at some point, resembled 15 years prior. Similar to age 5 it must have been my shaky voice and the tears that I tried to hold back that revealed my identity because 3 days later I received a card of congratulations from her in the mail. Only today was it made clear to me what I had to say to her that day. It was the same thing that my daughter so easily expressed to her teacher this morning; A simple I love you from the heart of a child who now has her own children the same age that I was when I had the privilege of being in her presence.

Love can unlock the Universe....anyone can be a teacher of this sacred element...from the unfettered heart of a child, a wagging tail of a dog or special people who touch your heart forever....where your world expands and all the clouds are lined with silver. Thank you Mrs. Brown. You have made a difference in our world.

the mascot

Kola nut ~ the mascot

This summer's motto, "Piercing Through the Veil of Boredom" and our new mascot, Kola, a 9 week old chocolate Labrador have formed a united front; literally changing the familial landscape of our family one puppy tooth piercing and ear piercing bark at a time at a time. We have all been inducted into this club with our infinitesimal disfiguration somewhere in the range between our right elbow and fingertips. As the days of our cohabitation increase the jaw strength has abated; Kola realises that he needs to start to mouth more gently if he intends to jive with his new pack.

The Board of Animals-in-Residence issue low guttural disgust. Kaos, the president, a 13 year old feline, is seeing laptime diminish right before her eyes. No longer am I available for leisurely sofaside lounging during this intense stage of puppydom - occupied instead with the frequent cues and whimpers that may or may not indicate that another mess on the floor could be narrowly averted. These seething emanations from Kaos ignite hopeful barks of glee from Kola. "Perhaps this is the happy language of the subtly different form of dog that they keep on this alien planet?", he thinks; his interpretation skills missing the mark so acutely that I if he's not careful, Kaos may slice and dice Kola into bite size niblets. The crescendo hits it's peak however, when the low baritone and the mezzo soprano are overpowered by the infinitely louder voice of my seven and ten year olds ...pleading for the the noise to *just stop*.

The name Kola came into my awareness as a flash of intuition. I had no idea what it meant when I passed this suggestion on to my husband.The kola nut in African Igboland culture constitutes a social symbol of hospitality, life, peace, kindness, good-will, commensality, fraternity, reconciliation and integrity. The kola is a typical multi-referential social symbol that has also touched western cultures with its use as a stimulant and flavoring that had, at one point, been found in Coca-cola and Pepsi products. In humans it enhances alertness and physical energy, elevates mood, increases tactile sensitivity and suppresses the appetite. At 4a.m. I see this benefit most clearly as I watch my husband kip up out of bed...into his pants...into his duck boots in one swift maneuver to take Kola out to systematically kill the grass, patch by urinated patch.


Between the puppy teeth and eardrums we have far surpassed the initial impetus of our motto that had included quiet puzzles, books and dabbling in streams. In fact, I think we have shot ourselves out of a cannon with the success of this mission running in terror of the creature we have allowed into our domicile.

In total transparency though...I must admit...it was my insistence that we get a dog. As I look into these puppy eyes (located right above the razor sharp teeth and below the level of the excretory features) I see total perfection of Source Energy ...I see the power that this animal has to open our hearts wider than we are able. Kola is the ingredient that we need to unify and move beyond our status quo to illuminate our capacity to love him, love ourselves and love one another....unconditionally. Kola will become our teacher.

The Universe answered our requests...for 14 years we have wished for a dog and now the timing is right; our family is now complete. No better time than the last week of summer to introduce a new member of the family where we could devote unfettered time to the foundations of training and pack dynamics. Source energy conspired with us in a fit of miraculous, synchronistic corrosion as our internet and phone lines fell inactive during the same eight days.  Although my JOY was not equally met among the rest of the family members,  I was awestruck by this divine intervention allowing us the opportunity to focus solely on life...on grace...on Kola.