Book Excerpt
Grandmother used to tell me there was a life for me that my deepest senses knew about. She said her joy was to make sure I always remembered. We played a game with colored pens and drawing pads, making large Flowers with endlessly unfolding Petals into which we wrote and drew all the things I loved -- and loved to do. As my MESHE grew, so did the number of Petals on my MESHE Chart. Grandmother said her grandmother played it with her until the day she died.
I wrote into my first Chart when I was only four years old: my pink dress; the doggie I carried with me everywhere I went; my Daddy; my Uncle Fred; my church dresses; my white patent leather shoes with the black bow; my rag doll, Sylvia; being tickled; doing errands in the car with my mother; playing with Grandmother; bubble baths; and finally, nap time and milk and cookies with Mrs. Drake. That was my first MESHE Chart. I was so proud of it that when I made my second Chart, the first Petal I drew in said, "My First MESHE Chart."
Grandmother always had the widest eyes for me. I understood her simple ways. She passed them on to me like she were still a child herself. They kept me company in my solitary world. From a very young age, Grandmother fostered my appreciation for the mundane by teaching me to be interested in everything I was doing and to behave in a grateful manner for all that came my way. I learned to be sad when I felt sad, joyful when I felt happy, and disappointed if I felt let down. With Grandmother in my corner, there was no reason to hide what I was feeling, and when I allowed myself to feel things as they came to me, there was no need to feel them for very long.
"There is this place that is me," she would say, pressing a closed hand gently against her lower belly. "Everything I am comes from here. I have an obligation to myself and the world around me to come from that place at all times."
"Even when you brush your teeth?" I'd ask at the age of five.
"Oh, especially when I brush my teeth," she'd answer.
"Even when you ride your bike?" I'd say at the age of seven.
"Oh especially when I ride my bike," she'd say.
"Even when you have to do your homework?" I challenged at the age of nine.
"Oh, even then!"
And when I learned that being in MESHE meant giving my homework the same love and attention as I gave the poetry I wrote for Grandmother, I understood the difference in myself when I was in MESHE, and how different the world was that I created from that place.