poetry. thoughts and more than make-believe.

Saturday, December 08, 2012

Taking the long road

The thing about having your children close together is that they generally leave close together.   I never thought about this idea when they were 4,3 and 1.

I always knew I wanted kids.
From a young age, say maybe 7, I had a true maternal desire to love my own child.
I can't explain it, it was just always there.  As a teenager, I babysat as much as I could. I knew I didn't want to have kids, I just desired to love them.  I worked at a daycare.  And then the church nursery.  To this day, kids make up a huge part of my day.  And my own girls are my heart.

I also knew I wanted kids semi-youngish.  I had my first a few months before I turned 24. 
I wanted to be "done" by 30, so I could have a life.  The year I turned 30, I miscarried my last baby.  I knew I was done.  There was no one telling me this was the way.  My own friends were just beginning at 30.  I just knew this was true for me and my family.

So, last night as my youngest went to spend the night with a friend, my middle went on her first date and my oldest hung out with friends, driving to a movie, I realized they are all leaving at the same time.  Literally and figuratively.   I realized this should be the time that I would spend with my beloved.  This alone time that you spend years working towards.  And as sappy as I was feeling, I didn't fall head first into saddness.  I rejoiced in their growing up together.  I realized how lucky they are to have each other to giggle and share first kiss stories together.  I realized I am lucky they want to share their stories with me.  It's as if they are crossing this threshold into young womanhood that is meant to be sacred and shared.  Loved and laughed with.  Protected. 

Today, I realize being a mom is never being "done" --  it's a willowy road I love traveling.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thanksgiving



It's Thanksgiving. 
After Tammie told me this morning this is her least favorite holiday,
I said, "Yeh--I've never really gotten it."  We took land from the Native Americans and feasted. Hmm.

Fast forward an hour later.
While I was doing the dishes, listening to the local public radio station, there
was a story about Nora Ephron, an interview she did before she passed away.  Because my listening skills aren't the most focused always, I'm not sure if she said this or someone else, but at some point a woman was
speaking about Thanksgiving.  And how it was the one time of the year that her
family, which was as dysfunctional as most, came together portraying the image
of a Norman Rockwell painting. 

That stuck with me.
My childhood growing up was rather Normal Rockwell-ish.
I was fortunate to have parents who loved each other and did their best for my brother
and I.  But I knew that wasn't true of other friends or even other family members.  Yet,
at Thanksgiving (and really Christmas and Easter too) we would  get together with extended family assuming life was simple and good.

There was an intention to love and appreciate family and food.

Of course, as an adult I know that there can be stress because of those two factors also.
If you are the host, you clean and get it all in order, to appear the picture of joy.  You worry something might not go right in the preparation, but you do it and accept it, because family is more important than your stress.  Hopefully. 

Family is love.  And family doesn't have to mean blood relation, but anyone you sit with in gratitude. 

So, while I'm eating my mashed potatoes and gravy -- I will be thankful I "get it" a little bit more today.

Om

Friday, November 09, 2012

zipper remorse

that point
when your zipper stops        
              mid-sentence           mid-thought        middle
you don't want to think it's stuck
              so you pull
                                             up a little harder
                                                                        down a little slower
with no give
and maybe you
groan
because those were
your favorite jeans
your favorite coat
your favorite boots
your favorite purse

why do we keep using zippers when we know
one out of how many ends in a disappointed relationship.

Friday, October 19, 2012


We argued over half cooked pizza,

I told you I don’t like people with big ego’s.

You said, you mean you don’t like human beings?

No I like humans, I don’t like big ego’s.

Are you saying my brother has a big ego?

You both have big ego’s.

Then why are you dating me?

You don’t like people with big ego’s.

You don’t let it get it in the way (most of the time), I say back.

And we continue.

About football.

Turning the other cheek, you quote as my “beliefs” (or was that Jesus?)

About fronting on people.

I explain, Not controlling your anger is a weakness.

I said twice.

I told you you are passionate in your being, emotionally, physically, sexually.

You find the passion in the argument.

And you petted the dogs,

Letting go of the argument.

Monday, October 15, 2012

I wished today was Sunday-n-a-half.
I wished for that day often as a kid, hoping I didn't have to go to school on Monday.
But of course the day continued, just as it did today -- and even though it
was really a great day, my weekend was too short.

Part of the problem I think is my age.
Really.
I've gotten to the point, at 40, that I need 2 days off in a row.
When I work Saturday, I'm off Friday - which is also pretty decent, but
in the end - I need those 2 days.  One day to "work", the next day to relax.

I understand why the weekend finally exists.
Now...how to get to the other side.

Om

Saturday, October 13, 2012

shrinky dink keys



with a pocket full
pocketful
pocket
full
of
shrinky-dinks
plastic wrapped
unwrapped
her hand jingles
unSanta
sansanta
sansbells
keys she doesn't carry

Saturday, August 18, 2012

sighhhhhh

Last night I got a text telling me an old friend had died.
The irony is he wasn't that old.
40.
42 tops.
He had a massive heart attack.
He lived life fully with everyone he surrounded himself with.

I met him when I was at WSU.
We dated one summer.
He was hot in the music scene.
Intense.
On the verge of over the edge.
It was much simpler being his friend.

Through 20 years I would watch him perform on occasion.
See him through mutual friends at parties.
Then Facebook.

We never really lost contact.
We would leave comments or message every few months.
I'd been thinking about him all week--because I hadn't commented
on his crazy posts for some time..thought about messaging,
but the thought ended.

I had an impossible time sleeping last night, but this morning I thought
he is like my new rockgod-- showing me the way through song.

Grins J. to you.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

anxiety

anxiety is not my friend.
friends eat together.
laugh together.
smile together.
anxiety doesn't smile.
eat.
laugh.
anxiety doesn't like to share.
hoarders.
not healers.

give it a day or week.
anxiety will be stepping out the door.

Monday, August 13, 2012

the producer
not the farmer
not the grocer
production
produce
visits this week with
camera in hand
telling a good story.
good.
o
o
d
.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Hugging Oprah Under the Streetlight

I woke up
hugging Oprah
underneath the Fifth St.
streetlight.

When I asked what was wrong
she shrugged off my words.

And when I said it was OK
she told me her
Uncle took her.

Yellow lighting around her face.

Hugging arms felt.

I woke up
opening my eyes
on my mat
remembering there was something
about her family,
only a watcher in
her

a
m

days.

Love
Light
to Miss O.


Thursday, June 28, 2012

Today begins with an email:
producer
production

And placing your book
here
there

Ending in savasana:
Tonight

Thursday, June 14, 2012

A Different Kind of Summer

This is turning out to be a different summer, but I realized that the first day the girls were out of school.

First--they really don't care if I am home.  They want me to be here to cook and clean for them, but
their friends have finally won first place.  Though I'm alittle sad about that, I am glad they are
normal teens and have friends.  I've never tried to be their best friend, but I am happy they still
like me most days.

Second--they haven't been home that much.  This week my friend took them to Southern Ohio to
hang out with her girls and though it's a break in some regards -- like cooking -- my sleep has
been off.  Partly because they aren't here, but mostly because of Sophie--our youngest dog.  She
misses them and cries at their door at night.  She's cried a couple nights because she's decided
she wants to go out and play at 2am.  As much as I try to ignore the sounds, I have mom-radar and
really can't fall back asleep.

Third -- they kinda have jobs.  Well, my oldest does...she's just starting to work
at a local coffeeshop.  I am very proud of her and can't wait for the yummiest hot chocolate
in town.  But, my younger two are babysitting for half the summer too...and my oldest will have
to drive them if I can't. 

Maybe that's it.
Driving.
Suddenly with my oldest behind the wheel, as scary as that may be mentally, it truly
has freed up some of my time.
My worry.
That's it.

When I was married, I always had another driver now that I think about it.  And I haven't for 3 years now.
My parents, friends and bf all help if I need it, but I try my hardest to do what I can...and now
I have joined help.

So -- yay for a different summer.
Soft change.
Love.
Om.

Friday, June 08, 2012

Keep your hands to yourself



This week I've been thinking about stealing quite a bit.
Sadly, in this small town I live we have been inundated with public theft of
rather large quanities of money.  I am sure this happens daily
across the globe, but still it is disturbing.

In the past year -- year and half maybe, there was a pee-wee football coach who took $20,000 plus dollars, a volunteer from the schools who also took about the same amount, and recently this week two people from a business who about $500,000 -- but the topper of it all was a volunteer from our Farmers Market who pocketed a mere $3400. 

My first thought in each of these cases was "I don't get it" and finding myself in a place of judgement.  People have been talking.  It's been in the paper and online.  And for all of my "I don't watch the news," I keep informed via voice and reading.  So, it's easy to sit in that place of judgement with folks continuing the ugly stories and ego.

So--I thought how should I look at this from a yogic stand point?  And if this is such this high and mighty Christian town, what would baby jesus do? 

Of course baby jesus forgives.
And yoga offers in the yama's : Asteya.
Non-stealing.
Seems pretty simple.  I won't steal thousands of dollars. I won't even steal ONE dollar. I won't get in trouble. But where does stealing originate in the mind?  In the body?

Desire. Wants. Material. Ego.
It's all there to make it 'ok.'  And if it's not or you want to keep up or fit in so much -- you make it 'ok' to take.  To steal.

This has made me think about my own history of stealing.  When I was 4 years old I took a stuffed animal from my Aunts house because I wanted it so bad. I don't recall what kind of animal it was, though I am wondering if this is when I decided stuffed animals weren't my first love. Anyhow-- I remember tucking it inside my coat, under my arm as we left her house. No one knew until my mom noticed it at home and immediately took me back to my Aunts insisting I tell her what I did and 'No you aren't allowed to keep it,' are words burned in my memory when my dear Aunt offered for me to take it back home.

I recall in kindergarten looking at anothers test.  Cheating is stealing.

In 2nd grade I was the look out for friends who took stickers from the teachers desk.

And then I knew I had to listen to that voice inside--the one who knew better and knew that voice was a higher power.  Plus I knew my family would humiliated and disappointed if I did the wrong thing.  And so stealing in the physical sense has vanished.

But what about stealing in other ways?  Like showing up on time, leaving on time...if you don't follow time, you are stealing others time.  And then there's wasting food.  Stealing others chance to eat. Hoarding, clutter...stealing your own freedom and others. 

So as I sit and and consider stealing, it is not nearly as simple as judging someone else's theft.  Is taking thousands of dollars wrong?  Of course -- but it isn't my worry today.  I will continue to look at what stealing is though-- the subtle aspects.  Remembering what desire can do when unchecked -- and being happy in daily life.

Om.

Thursday, June 07, 2012

The same falls, but only different



Yesterday I was supposed to have a yoga class at
Charleston Falls.  FYI, the above pic is not CF--but a lovely google image...


Anyhow- I showed up waiting for the 6 people who confirmed they were coming --
but ended up talking to the park program coordinator for 15 minutes before we
decided no one was showing.  Though I was initially disappointed, I ended up
having my own blissful morning hiking the park in the early morning.

I sat in front of the falls quietly when I had this thought, which really belongs over on my beginning yoga blog: Inhalexhalebreathe , comparing the
largest fall with the tinier ones and the trickling ones.
The largest being like the Universe, God, Goddess, Godhead...
The smaller ones being offshoots of the largest--doing the same dharma, purpose as
the largest -- their job is just as important, just in a different area.
I thought about "god" then being a mom, yoga teacher, librarian -- but really any life purpose or any god. It is all the same connection, same source of knowledge...

I ended my hike out in the Goldenrod field, placing my mat in the newly built
hexagon house--doing a grateful practice for the day, using Tree as my pinnacle pose.

Om.

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

What's this about?

Dreams have always been a substantial part of how I start my day.
I usually remember in detail the people, images, colors and feelings.
I've had plenty of dreams that come true and astral dreams that help me fly.
I can pretty much say, I love dreaming or being in the state of dreaming--then recalling.



So this morning, inbetween alarms, I dreamt I was walking in front of my house when
a small car full of a long-time-ago-ex's family, waved hey to me. They were crammed in this
colorful car and I was surprised to see them.  Whoever I was with told me to turn around and look...
and just past the railroad tracks was this ex-bf in blue and white hawaiian print jeans.  He waved a happy
wave and I hesitated, but waved back...and then I woke up.  

I can positively say that he would never wave at me.
And if he did, I'd have to cover my eyes in caution tape because I assume he still doesn't like me--at all.
This is an old bf--highschool to college--over almost 20  years ago.  I don't even consider him in my
waking life, unless an issue comes up.  The last time I saw him was 5 or 6 years ago at Target when he clearly tried to intimidate me and I remembered why I feared him through that abusive relationship.
So this dream bothered me.

I don't want to see him.
Accidentally run into him or even sense his energy.
When I first broke up with him I'd have dreams that we were friends.
I know it was my mind working it all out.

I don't hate him.
I don't like him either.
Indifferent is the best word to describe any thought towards him.

But dreaming about him scares me--that I might see him.
I see some of his family, which is fine.  They were the ones I had a hard time letting go of and
I appreciate we are friendly with each other. But to see him, NOPE-- don't want to go there.

So what is this happy waving dream about? 
Hopefully just the sunshine waving me awake this AM.
Om.

Saturday, June 02, 2012

Memorial Day Blues



It started a week and a half ago.  My BFF, Tammie, called me at the library asking what time I got off. 
5:30.
It was 5:15.
I had ridden my bike to work that day, but I told her I'd stop on my way home.
Her belly was killing her in a pain she hadn't felt before.
She was throwing up from the pain, not from being sick.
Paranoid we'd go to the ER and they would tell her it was gas, I convinced her that was
better knowing, than thinking she was dying...or possible appendicitus.

So off we went and after a zillion tests, drugs and tears, she discovered she had a cyst on her
ovary the size of a grapefruit.


Yes: A grapefruit.
Grapefruits are yummy and pretty--this didn't seem a happy comparison.
The ER doc told her she needed to see her OB GYN if she had one.
Tammie explained that she had one, but she didn't have insurance. 
I watched the Dr.'s face as she didn't know what to say to her lack of coverage.
17.1% of Americans have no insurance and I'm sure Tammie wasn't the first person they saw that night
without it--but maybe she was the first person they had to figure out what to actually do with once she left the ER.

The Dr. decided she was going to make a couple calls because "this isn't like you just need pills," she said.  I was assuming BC pills, but who knows?  She kept saying that a doctor would do the "right thing" in this situation.  I didn't quite know what that meant because in my niave mind, shouldn't they always do the right thing? 

So at 3am they send her home with drugs and for her to call a hospitals' Women Center the next day. They would work with her lack of insurance.
She did what she was told.
She had her appointment.
They didn't know if it was cancerous or not.
Tammie was scared and I was trying to be strong, but god it sucked. I have to be strong enough everyday I've decided if my best friend is ever dying again I'll just be strong in waves.

So a few days go by and Memorial Day shows up with a passionate fire.
Back to the ER, but a different one many miles awhile....
This one sucked.
Slow.
We had a PA (physician assistant) who lacked bedside manners.  Once upon a time my job was to help history taking skills with med students...this one needed my help, but as my best friend was puking from pain non stop, I decided to just be annoyed with him instead. 
And then finally after Tammie turning into evil hospital patient, the correct dr.'s were in to see her, do more tests and discover her grapefruit had grown since Wednesday.

Emergency surgery discovered her ovary had twisted around the cyst, ovarian torsion, cutting off the blood supply creating the intense pain.  Whew.

And then less than 2 hours later, they sent her home.
Was this because of no insurance or do they normally send home a surgery patient directly afterwards? 
I keep wondering.  I have to go with lack of insurance, but maybe it's considered out-patient these days. I do keep thinking though how it could have been different if she would have had insurance.  Would they have taken her symptoms more serious?  Would it have even gotten this far before it needed to be removed? 

Thank goodness her sister came to help this week and she's alive, WITHOUT CANCER, and doing well.  And her first ER doctor was right--Dr.s did do the right thing in helping her--they didn't care if she was insured or not.  And they shouldn't. 

Unless you've been uninsured it's a hard concept to fully see.  I've been on both sides in my adult life.  I can tell you being insured provides better facilities, options and care--but in the end--a doctor is a doctor is a doctor.  And you trust they will make you better whether you have insurance or not. 

So thanks to the docs who help. Thanks to Tammies sister for taking care of her this week. And thanks Tammie for still being alive and being my person.
Much love and gratitude.
Om.



Friday, May 11, 2012

Politics at Goodwill

My bf & I spent most of the day cleaning my garage.  Last week he decided he was going to build me shelves and I fell in love all over again.  I admit to loving a man who can build things...though they've been few and very far between...anyhow--he built me three heavy duty shelves, plus put up bike rack hooks so the girls
bikes have a winter home.

As we continued to sort through garage, making piles of keeping, tossing and goodwilling, I decided tonight my oldest and I could drop off an old baby crib after she practiced driving.  I opened the back door to get the crib out, while the old hippy worker looks it over and says, "I don't think we can take that."  I look at it and ask 'Why?' but have a moment of maybe crib guidelines have changed again and that's the reason.  Plus it's probably 200 years old.

Nope.

He sheepishly says, "they want baby items to go to Right to Life."  I'm sure I'm not the first person who gave me the WTF look, but past the look I used my big girl words:  "Really?"

Again, "yes they want baby items to go to Right to Life.  Do you know where that is?"

In hell I think, but say to this kind man just trying to do his job, "No--where?"

He explains where it is.  I know generally the area, but also know I am not taking it there.  It's not that I don't want those babies to have a crib, I want Goodwill to be A-Political on the matter of reproduction.  He must've read the look on my face as I put the crib back into my car and said, "well I guess I'll find somewhere to take it," thinking someone will pick it up before trashday, because he said, "aahhh...I'll just take it.  Put it on the big truck.  Don't wanna see you drive around with it in your car all weekend."

Amen.
Goodwill.
Good will towards the hippyman. But what the hell Goodwill?  Since when did this happen?  I have no problem if the general policy is that baby items that don't sell go to Right to Life or the woman on the corner, but to ask me to go to Right to Life to drop off items, I am insulted.  Maybe I'm niave.  Maybe I'm idealistic.  But you are Goodwill Industries for heavens sake.  I even went online to see if there's a policy that states they're connected.  I couldn't find one.  I did discover they don't take baby car seats because of regulations.  Fine. 

Next time I have baby items to drop off, it won't be at Goodwill--but I hate that.  I love thrift stores and I don't want to consider my politics when I go there.  I know some people simply wouldn't care, but in this political season when womens healthcare is so fragile, I do care--I just didn't expect to think about politics on a Friday night at Goodwill.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

love in three's

right
lefting it
across to the bank

the hearts in the window
shouted of bad country affairs

but in-popped
'i will love in three's today'

and then i wondered--why haven't i considered that before?
if people die in three's, why not love in three's?
or maybe that's the threesome
or maybe it's
smiling to the clouds
smiling to the bank teller
smiling out loud

allowed
right
lefting it
back across the street

Saturday, April 07, 2012

Mashing the weekend

This weekend there's an amazing workshop at Sri with Katie Silcox, a parayoga teacher.  Parayoga follows a tantric background.  If I were to be a follower of any "type" of yoga that is out there--para it is.  I'm a lover of classical too and have the love of that with Sivananda yoga...anyhow--back to the weekend.

Originally I had only planned to attend this mornings practice because of work yesterday, but as life has it I attended a funeral of my BFF's grandma.   This left me open for the evening--so I took advantage and hopped in my car to Dayton and fell in love with my practice all over again.  This morning though, I'm having some guilt in deciding to go.  My girls are home.  I'm off.  Their dad's hiking 300 miles.  I'm off and they are home.  Did I say that already?  I don't care how old they are--I feel like I need to be with them.  That's good and suffocating at the same time.  I don't think I'm overbearing for them--I just want to available if they need me.  Granted, the workshop this morning is short--2 hours, so I know it's all good--but still.

Then this evening I bellydance in town.  My teachers having a hafla--and my girls will go with me.  They are going to be in charge of the music.  Oh well... life is just life.  Sometimes they are busy, sometimes I am busy--and we all mash it up together and live.
Om.

Sunday, April 01, 2012

And this morning...

Having a quiet weekend at home without the girls and BD playing golf in WV, I readily escaped the house with Tammie for night out in town.  Once upon a time, I would have loved to get dressed up and go to Dayton--dancing the night away, but now I just want to get dressed up and stay close to home.  Ultimately it has to do with the possibility of walking home, if need be.  I didn't need to walk, but I do realize my body isn't used to drinking.  I thank age, awareness and yoga for that. 

We did have fun--well enough fun, I suppose.  I ran into library-kids-grown-up.  Seems impossible that these boys were young like 4 and 5 when I started and now they're in their 20's.  I have a special place for them...they were the ones, just like now, who came everyday after school. Harder home lives.  Harder school lives.  And they would come to hang out.  I suppose they were the first group of kids I got to know.   So--when I see them now--it's like being with younger brothers.   I could see looks from people, I'm sure questioning how I know them.  Not caring, I enjoyed the visit and listened to other friends talk.

This morning I see that even though my mind believes in moderation, my body may not.  I am ok with that.  I am thankful for that.  I love being 39. Om.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Spring Break

Always amazed what time off does for the mind and the body, I have a hard time believing I've spent the last few days off work and home with my girls during their springbreak.  I am so grateful that I actually
thought ahead to ask off and see that I have to allow myself this break more often.

I feel rested. Blessed that we had a wonderful week, weather and joyfulness in our time together.  I miss all of it.  I'm in a better place than I was a few years ago, but ultimately, I will always love being home with them.  It can be exhausting, but what isn't?  And it goes so quick...I can hardly believe my oldest will be 16 in a month. Wow. And now it's almost like I want to be home more, because I know they're so close to college and just simply becoming beautiful adults. 

Or maybe it's appreciation.  I find appreciation in so much more...I appreciate the fact I was able to be home with them for so many years and we had this very happy life.  I miss it, but I try to be content in this new place. 

It's being.  We "be-ed" this week very well.  We know who we are--individually and as a family.  So everything we did, it was nice...whether it was shopping, cooking, cleaning, yard work, playing...we just were. Are.
Love.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Grief

I stayed home today.  I woke up and felt dread, overwhelming blahness...and knew that
if I walked into the building, I'd spend the day trying not to cry.
I've never taken a true mental health day.
Somehow I've gotten physically sick to compensate for my emotional state.
I'm sure I'm not the only one.

The strange thing about staying home is that I'm dredging up old feelings that I don't
need to attend to.  Though....I've realized through thinking about these old issues, that
those where the times I should have stayed home. Why have I not taken time to grieve
in my life?

My reaction is to keep on going...and I don't think that's always a bad thing.
I can't stay home for every little thing, but why can't I have stayed home when truly,
there were real reasons to just 'be.'  To sit. To write. To listen. To be.

So, today--I honor my grief, without attaching to it--without it dragging me down--but
to feel it, live it, and let it go.

Love. Om.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Into their loss

This morning in class
emotion ran into rivers
tearing down
twisted stones
bellowing
shouting hearts
and
mother
daughter
held hands
lying twisted to the left
breathing into their loss

Sunday, March 11, 2012

TGIS

Why isn't there a TGIS?  If I could create it, this would be the week.
I found myself caught up in the emotional roller coaster of politics, which I try my hardest
to stay out of.  I am not overly political, but I do like to know the general blow-around that's
blowing around in the political arena.  And when women's health is the hot topic,
I guess I step up my radar to know what's being presented.

So, when I discovered a link on one of my friends Facebook page in the general
support of Rush and the slut comment, I was positively appalled.
First, he's married with children. Second, niavely I think he's not like that.  I could not and can not understand
why or how he didn't see what the big deal was/is.  I texted one of my BFF's to check-in
with my feelings on this.  I went ahead and simply put a :
:(
unhappy face on his wall.

He dialogued back how he wasn't supporting Rush or Fox, but basically didn't get it.
My friend put a  stand-up comment back and after a day of obsessing,
I finally wrote back.  In the end I stated that if he wasn't supporting this link,
then let us know. 

This upset me most of the week.
He's a best friend.  I was shocked, but I continue to see how our lifestyles have
created these very different teenage-friends-now-adults.  I know we'll always be
friends and we are completely allowed to disagree, but this seemed different somehow.

It's ironic, because most of the time I am very aware of the differences between
my BF and I, but when it comes to womens health--he's very pro-woman.  If he were not,
I couldn't be with him. Plain and simple.

Maybe that was the problem...it was the reality with my friend, that he and I --though
not even possible to be together--couldn't be 'be.' Hm.

So, now it's Sunday--and thank goodness I can go to bed early.
I can contemplate on my new week.  My new yoga schedule.
5 classes a week now, plus still my regular library hours.  It could cause a girl
to crack.  I haven't.  I hand it over to the universe to know when to step in and
give me the guidance to honor what I feel and know I can handle. 

The end.
xo

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Saturday

My plan this Saturday morning was to sleep in--7ish sounded good.
Was is the key word.
At 6:15 my middle daughters alarm woke me up--and seeing how she wasn't home to
turn it off...up I scuttled into her room, knowing I wasn't really turning it off correctly,
but hoping I might have been.
No.
Snooze-time-later, approximately 7 minutes, I was up again and decided I did
get to sleep in, even if it wasn't 7am.

So--now at 9:15, I feel amazing.
Though my meditation was cut short because Sassy-cat, jumping off the table towards me,
I had clear visuals, sensations and thoughts in my 15 minutes.
This lead to applying for work--which is another story--and then for a lovely morning asana practice.

I have no clear plans for the day.
I will do some housework and stuff I generally procrastinate towards, but
I am free today to do what comes to me.

Smile at a stranger.
Connect.
Love.
Om.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

AHHHHH...

Finally, I did the slowest ever yoga flow in my memory, but I actually was able to move this morning.
It's been weeks since my back  decided to separate from the rest of my body.
I finally listened.
I didn't do any vigorous movement.
I taught without doing many poses, which I see as a helpful teaching blessing, but that meant
limitations.
And I'm still limited, but this morning--I moved.

AHHHH...I thought I was going to cry.
All I could think of is--imagine not being able to move.
Imagine the floor was a scary place to be.
Imagine.
I can't.
And as I felt my body unwind...there I was again.
In my heart.
In my movement.

My yoga is more than asana, but the gentle energy brought about this morning from it,
is inspiring on this sunny, warm February morning.
OM.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

on the mat

she mentioned the word:
unavailable
on
off
the mat
infrontofthedesk
behind friday night wet eyes
surface cleaning
the weeks kitchen

vibrate
vibration
higher vibrations
buzz this way
that
a
k
eme
w
a
k
eme
                t
not wanting to wake
sleepingirls
where they
lay

a lone ranger
ranger girl
range
whose are you in
if
unavailable
un
u
without
aim

buzzes

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Born to be human

This is one of those days that I wish I knew the answer to my lifes mystery.
I'm a believer that we've been born with a purpose.
Maybe that's to be the most excellent dishwasher in history or maybe it's to be a rock star...but we've got the answers we carry the questions to inside.
And inside, everyday, those questions pop up.  Often time it's the running script we listen to when our senses aren't being bombarded with media, family or co-workers...it's our samskara's --our listening grooves on the worst teenage mixed-tape-- playing over and over again.  Making us think too much.  Making us cry.  Recreating mini-wars to our own drama.
Of course they're are actions to help counteract this cyclic behavior: meditation and mantra are the first two that pop into my mind.  That's why my teenage mixed tape has become a lovely mix of elevator music and singing Kumbaya


Other times our questions or my questions in particular seem to verbally shout to me:
PAY ATTENTION DREAMY-GIRL! by bringing forth a lying co-worker or explosive argument with loved ones, leading me to wonder : why?


Why when you can do right action, right words, right thoughts, that still there can be
conflict in the midst of peace?  Being almost 40, I humbly accept this is a fact of life if you are not living on an ashram or seclusion from the world...but I do wonder at what point do you drop the conflict of others?  I think there's a balance of dropping the most conflicted friends with less conflicted friends, but when you live with family and friends--there's bound to be sketchy emotions.  I suppose it's humanity.  


Maybe that's my answer: I was born to be human.
At least today.



"Happiness is only real when shared".....from Into the Wild
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