poetry. thoughts and more than make-believe.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Hugging Oprah Under the Streetlight

I woke up
hugging Oprah
underneath the Fifth St.

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



to Miss O.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Today begins with an email:

And placing your book

Ending in savasana:

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.
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.

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.
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.


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.


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.

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. 
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.
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.

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

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