The Semi-Grand Experiment

Back In the Saddle

2009-07-17T21:15:00.003-04:00

It's been a long time. Since I've written here. Since I've written at all.

The house is empty. It's quiet. Outside it's raining and dark. So I've no excuse.

Welcome back to me.

In the immortal (maybe) words of Bugs Bunny, "Dat's all, folks" 'cause I really have nothing to say. I just wanted to get back on that horse.

It's all good.

Namaste.

I Love Power!

2008-12-12T18:41:00.003-05:00

Sorry, this is not a get-naked blogfesssion about being a control freak. It's more elemental than that. I'm talking about the power that's delivered by National Grid to my home: the heat, the electricity, the stuff that allows my computer to run and my toilets to flush. Sadly, it's not in my house right now, and hasn't been for 20 hours thanks to an early-winter ice storm. Happily, we were able to get (and afford) two rooms in a brand-spanking new and really nifty hotel (The Indigo Hotel) right by the Albany Airport. And how cool is this? They allow dogs - so Mobley is now an experienced elevator rider. I'm sitting here toasty warm and loving it.

There are a number of ironies, or cosmic giggles, or call-them-what-you-mays to this story. The biggest and best being that just yesterday afternoon, the basement crew finished their work on our super-high tech system to keep our basement dry. It includes a "triple-safe" sump pump complete with battery back-up. Of course, I'd scoffed at this when the salesman suggested it. Really? How often would we flood during a power outage? Who knew that it would only be a few short hours after the set-up was powered up for two such events to coincide. Okay, I admit it, I thought it would never happen - I was wrong, wrong, wrong and I'm glad for the triple-safe sump pump and promise to never even again think that it's over-the-top. When I woke up last night to realize that we didn't have power, I had to laugh to think that (because of the battery) the sump pump was the one electrical item actually at work in the house.

But, that's really not a good cosmic giggle. That came this morning when (now that the basement is dry), Hank informed me that the roof was leaking.

Other ironies: I'd just cleaned out the pantry and have been using up the canned goods in it, thinking it's time to start fresh. So, very few cans in what's normally a pantry too packed to find anything in. I had a brief thought yesterday, "What will we eat if the lights go out?" And blissfully figured we'd eat the frozen entrees I have. Hmm, frozen entrees eaten frozen, when one is freezing. Strike that. I've also kept gallons of water for an emergency for years. Guess where they were this week? On the front step. Guess what they are? Unusable in the frozen state they're in. I'd also spent a lot of time the past week putting my address book and recipes on the computer. The same computer that's home, where there's no power to run it. Lately I adopted the theory that it's great to live in the northeast where the worst of our weather is a winter storm where we hunker down and enjoy a day or two at home until the roads are cleared. No hurricanes, tornadoes, or tsunamis to worry about. Very true, but as the temperature dropped (and the hours without coffee wore on), it was hard to feel cozy at home.

Which isn't to say it was horrible there this morning. Shay and I shared his earbuds and listened to a podcast of "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" and laughed our heads off. Then Harry, Shay and I played Monopoly, where Harry set the course of the game by giving Shay and me so many discounts and tips and generally throwing his money around in gleeful philanthropy, that even Shay didn't have the heart to go for the jugular, and we decided the game was a three-way win. Kit "undecorated" her room by deciding to get rid of what she no longer needs or wants. Hank did...hmm, remarkably well without coffee.

And, who cares about any of this? We're safe and warm. We made it here through a landscape as stunning as I'd ever driven through. Our town and the towns west of us as we drove to Albany looked so beautiful with all the trees encased in glittery, crystalline ice. Until we'd get to a place where one had come down, blocking and scarring the road. This happened numerous times and we had to change course more than once.

The power will come back to my house at some point. Until then - dispatches from Albany.

NoThing is Sacred

2008-11-21T09:14:00.003-05:00

It's that time again: we're clearing out the house. So far, six carloads of stuff have left, the volunteers at our local thrift shop are starting to wonder where I'm getting all this stuff, and frankly, so am I. After all, we went through this routine just six months ago when we redid the den.

We're now putting in a basement system so that Hank and I can stop being human sump pumps (using a wet-vac to suck up the water as the basement floods) every time we get a big rain. "Short-term pain, long-term gain," as Hank says, but this work means that everything possible in the basement has to come out. Of course, this is the perfect opportunity to get rid of stuff, because, if nothing else, where will it all fit during the next four weeks while the work is under way?

So, my family is going into the protective mode that they go into when I'm in a mood to move stuff out. Nothing is sacred. Nothing. However, there are personality issues to consider when embarking on such a job. Harry's like me when it comes to stuff, but unfortunately due to that fact, if he stripped down his stuff any more, he'd really be stripped down, with nothing left to even wear. What a shame - he's my biggest ally on the War on Clutter and he has nothing to give.I think Kit would be with the program if she had the time and interest to go through her stuff, but she doesn't. Shay and Hank (no surrprise here) are very much alike in this respect as in most others: they love their stuff.

A couple observations about stuff and the stuff that accumulates:

1. Dreidls are the rabbits of all Jewish paraphernalia, right after the Festival of Lights ends, they get busy making baby dreidls: I know this because they're all over my house.

2. If you've ever had a child who likes Legos, like dog hair these will be in and under everything in your house no matter how much work you've done to clean them out.

3. If you need a hair band, look where the Legos are, or the dreidls if you're Jewish. Ditto rubber bands.

4. If you have something that's been kept together with a rubber band that crumbles when you pick it up, you've had the item for too long. Trash it - no one else will be able to use it.

5. Even never used rubber bands will crumble if you have too many (I hope that when I die I get buried with our rubber bands, obviously at some point I thought I'd run short at some point in eternity - why else would I have so many? If I get to work quickly after death, I'll be able to make one hell of a rubber band ball.)

6. I believe it's possible for electronics to function even if the original packaging is disposed of. This may be a hypothesis in need of verification. Therefore, I'm chucking the boxes and will report back when the data is all in.

7. Headless Barbies and legless Kens should be trashed. This needs no explanation.

8. An efficient way of disposing of glass items is to drop them on a concrete floor. This is efficient for a few reasons: you do not need to go through the decision-making process of whether to keep or not, you do not need to wrap item in paper and take to thrift shop if deciding to dispose of item, and due to the scatter factor of glass hitting concrete, the floor will end up well-vacuumed. One word of caution: should item be dropped the day before your daughter's sleep-over, vacuum very, very carefully as a friend rolling over in her sleep onto a shard of glass could necessitate a mid-night trip to the emergency room, which would negate any efficiency gained in the first place.

Okay, enough fun for now. It's time for me to go back to the dungeon, um, I mean the basement.

Sarah Palin's Got Nothing On Me

2008-10-27T10:19:00.003-04:00

I promise I'm not going political on you (I'm saving that for next week). I just want to point out that although Sarah Palin may handle five kids, the governorship of Alaska, and running for VP, I, like Joe the Plumber, can handle a certain kind of emergency.

I've earned the right to sing, "I am woman, hear me roar." Even Hank agreed to me crooning it for much of yesterday afternoon.

It all started approximately sixty seconds after he left to pick up Shay from Sunday School. Of course.

I was enjoying a rare moment in the kitchen. I was cooking, or rather trying to, when I heard, "Uh-oh, Mom - problem. Uh-oh."

These are not the words a mother wants to hear.

"Uh-oh, Dad - problem. Uh-oh" would've been fine. I could have kept cooking the millet salad I'd been trying to make. Turn water on to boil. Turn water off. It was beginning to look like a really bad remake of "The Karate Kid" - "The Karate Mom" - stove on, stove off, stove on, stove off. Stuff just kept coming up (ouch, really bad and unintentional pun).

A worried looking child emerged from the bathroom (for the sake of his privacy, I won't mention his name).

Said child informed me that the toilet was overflowing.

What poor timing - an overflowing toilet and Hank wouldn't be back for an hour. Oh, no - what's a woman to do?

Much to my shock, right after I realized that it would be a bear to get a plumber on a Sunday morning and that unspeakably gross water was flooding the floor, I also realized that I knew that the little knob near the floor would turn off the water to the toilet. How did I know this? Me, who firmly believes that feminism be damned, the man of the house should deal with plumbing disasters. I guess we do know more than we think we know.

Gingerly reaching in to the bathroom and grateful for my Yoga practice which helps my balance and flexibility, I was able to reach the knob and to my delight, the water did in fact stop! Perhaps I've created a new Yoga asana - the Plumber's Stretch - balance on one foot, reach out toward floor with right hand, stay mindful and pray you don't fall into the muck.

Not one to indulge in false modesty, having succeeded in stopping the flow, I gave myself credit for being a genius. A brave genius for I approached what must be a plague-inducing amount of germs with.....okay, the undeniable realization that it would be cruel and unloving to make my child deal with this himself. And the even stronger realization that should I leave the cleaning to my child, I'd never be able to use that bathroom again, and would most likely have to move out of the house. Which would cause our financial ruin because I'd feel morally obliged to tell potential home buyers why we were moving. "No, we're not relocating and we haven't gone bust like the stock market. We're moving because the toilet overflowed and my teenage son cleaned the bathroom, so you can only imagine...." Also, if I didn't handle this myself, I'd probably feel obliged to call the EPA and have the bathroom officially declared a toxic waste site (and since my kids' bathroom has already been so declared, perhaps the government would...what? send guys dressed in white hazmat suits to clean it for me? That would be nice but no, with the budget deficit and all, I knew I was on my own here. The government probably can't even afford to lend me a hazmat suit).

I suggested to said child that he get paper towels to sop up the water on the floor. Unfortunately, this is my relaxed child and a minute later I noticed that he was in rapt concentration, ripping each square perfectly before gingerly placing the paper towels on the floor.

"No, no, no!" I cried. "Get as many kitchen towels as you can find!" That was my first mistake (or maybe my second - perhaps the first was buying a home). My kitchen towels? Why not the rag towels from the basement that I could burn after they soaked up the mess? Or toss? Or carry out of the house at the end of a very long pole. But I said "kitchen towels" and so they were used.

I got a laundry basket, lined it with a garbage bag because there were only so many household items I wanted to hate once this was all over. I sopped up the mess. Mopped the floor. Plunged the toilet. Washed the bathroom. Felt proud. Felt just like I did after running the NYC Marathon the first time (no, not totally exhausted but that if I could do this I could do anything).

When the last of the cleaning was underway, Hank came home. Of course. I was already singing Helen Reddy.

Hank put the laundry in - you remember, my beloved kitchen towels? - on cold. On one rinse. My elation evaporated. Hey! Who was this dude to walk in in the eleventh hour and start taking over - doing things the wrong way, no less. Didn't he realize the wash water needed to be boiled? And that it would take five or six rinse cycles to prove to me I wouldn't get amoebic dysentery from touching one of those towels. Or that I had to leave for the afternoon in a half hour and needed some water to boil myself in, too? No matter. We got it straightened out.

And then Hank walked into the kitchen. And found the garbage disposal was clogged. And needed to be plunged. Plunged? Plunged? As in with the gross plunger? The same one I'd just used - in a toilet? Now to be used on my kitchen sink? It was too much for me. I had to leave the house.

I've been reading about India lately. There are many open sewers there. They overflow during the monsoons. People have no choice but to walk through the overflow. They survive.

I will survive. Excuse me, I feel a song coming on...no, not Helen Reddy, I feel a Gloria Gaynor moment coming on, "I will survive!"

Energy Medicine 101

2008-10-21T08:27:00.004-04:00

Little did I know when I became interested in energy medicine (aka energy healing or energy work) that I was already doing it. You may be, too - even if you think you're very mainstream in your approach to medicine. My Yoga and meditation practices are forms of energy work. That's not surprising. So are chiropractic and massage. You're probably still not surprised. How about this though - according to the National Institutes of Health's National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine, MRIs, cardiac pacemakers, and radiation therapy all fall under the heading of energy medicine (http://nccam.nih.gov/health/backgrounds/energymed.htm)!

The NCCAM divide energy medicine into two categories: veritable and putative. Methods that fall under the veritable category use mechanical vibrations (sounds) and electromagnetic forces (light, magnetism, and radiation such as laser beams). They use specific, measurable wavelengths and frequencies in their treatments. It is the ability to measure them using conventional instrumentation that earns them the rank of "veritable".

Putative methods, on the other hand, employ the use of techniques that are thus far unmeasurable by reproducible methods. Putative fields are often called biofields. These treatments are based on the theory that we have subtle forms of energy within and around us. You may hear this energetic life-force referred to as qi (in traditional Chinese medicine), ki (Japanese Kampo), prana or dosha (Indian Aryuvedic), or even homeopathic resonance (which is Western). There are other names as well, but I think those are the most common. Believers feel that a vital energy flows through the material body. However, as stated, this subtle energy has thus far eluded measurement using standard instrumentation. Some common putative methods are Reiki, Healing Touch, Theraputic Touch, Traditional Chinese Medicine, homeopathy, prayer, and Donna Eden's Energy Medicine (which I tried on Sunday - see previous post). Less common is Energy Mirrors which I tried a few weeks ago.

I believe that in our lifetimes many forms of energy medicine will continue to gain wider acceptance. More and more medical studies are showing the efficacy of Yoga to reduce such common issues as high blood pressure. Some health insurance plans even cover the cost of Yoga classes for subscribers. I even believe that as our understanding of physics shows more clearly that matter is just concentrated energy and that dark matter and other forms of energy move through our bodies constantly, the methods that are now putative may end up on the veritable side of the energy medicine equation.

Right Place, Right Time

2008-10-20T15:50:00.002-04:00

Sunday started out perfectly. I slept until 9:45, which in this house, is the equivalent of sleeping until noon. Had Shay not been in Boston for the weekend I'm sure I wouldn't have done so. It's impossible for that boy to get through that much morning without either playing his electric guitar or pounding on the druns.

I obviously needed the rest because just the day before, I'd had a venti latte after lunch (I never super-size anything just because the sales person suggests it or because it's a deal, but when the barista asked if I wanted a venti for just thirty cents more than a grande, I was shocked to hear myself say, "Sure." I knew I was tired, not just for drinking the amount of coffee I usually make fun of, but because I proceeded to go home and fall fast asleep. I never, ever nap on a Saturday!

I was happy to have a morning that had only occured rarely in the past twenty-one years since I married a confirmed early bird. In the early days of our marriage, I'd awaken at ten on Saturday mornings to the sounds of "PeeWee's Playhouse" - by then Hank would have been up for four hours or more and would have grown bored without company - he'd claim that sleeping until ten was as good as sleeping until noon. I never got his logic, but then again he's never understood how I can love sleep so much and I've never understood how he can stand to stay so busy. But I digress.

It was (obviously) a quick morning and then time to take Kit to her Wind Orchestra rehearsal in Albany. After dropping her off, I took myself out for lunch (after sleeping in, the only civilized way to proceed with the day was to keep treating myself well). After lunch, I decided to shop at the Coop (after pampering myself thus far, cooking dinner would have been a travesty, so I wanted to pick up some of their excellent freshly prepared food). Driving there I remembered that this was the day that a practitioner of Donna Eden's Energy Medicine was conducting free half-hour sessions. I'd thought about signing up for one, but the last time I was at the Coop, I didn't know what my schedule would bring. Or really what a free session would entail. It seemed a shame to not pull it together to register, especially since I'm planning on taking a weekend class with Eden at Kripalu in January, but that's the story of my life: although I was interested, I'd let it go.

As I pushed my cart over to the meat freezer, I passed the community room and looked in. A woman looked out and smiled. I smiled back, continued on and grabbed a pound of grass-fed beef so I could make a meatloaf for Hank and Shay (one of these days when I'm actually cooking). A moment later I heard an announcement, "Anyone interested in a free half-hour Energy Medicine consultation, we have one available this afternoon in the community room, starting....now!"

I looked around. Here I was. Outside the community room. No one else was breaking down the door or even standing nearby. Along came the woman who'd smiled at me. I needed no introduction.

And even I know when I'm standing at the right place at the right time. Even I know when I'm meant to act.

"I'm interested," I said.

"Come on in," the woman replied.

Ruth Ann Smalley conducted the session. Donna Eden's method (which she uses) employs energy testing to find what you need. Basically, this entails holding out your arm and having it gently pressed on. When your energy is strong, your arm stays pretty much in place. When your energy is weak, your arm goes down somewhat. This is often demonstrated by someone pressing your arm as you say "My name is....." with your own name - your arm stays in place. Repeat the first part of the sentence with someone else's name, your arm will go down more.

After explaining a few basic concepts of Energy Medicine, Ruth Ann did some testing. My energy was the same walking forward or walking backwards. I thought this would be a good thing. It isn't according to Eden. Your energy should be stronger going forward (maybe that's why I get nothing done!) Also, my aura was very weak (darn - I'd always been curious about it and hoped I'd have one of those funky psychedelic auras).

Ruth Ann gave me some exercises to do - thumping below my collar bone and rubbing the inside of my feet, above the heel bones, both to stimulate energy flow for my kidneys and a short routine which looks rather Tai Chi-ish to boost my aura.

The session was gentle, non-invasive and fun.

Next time, I'll get to more of the principles of energy medicine according to Donna Eden.

Goodbye for now - it's Monday and I've run out of excuses for staying out of the kitchen...

Time is...

2008-10-12T10:34:00.002-04:00

I am a few hours into a "day off". Hank and the kids went to NYC to visit Hank's parents. I have the whole day to myself. My only real responsibility (and the reason I stayed behind) is to walk the dog. So, why did I feel so stressed out this morning?

Time. Too little of it. Too much to do with it. Instead of seeing the wonderful hours to fill as I see fit (which I saw only yesterday), I saw to-do lists. Housecleaning, emails piled up, phone calls to make, shopping to be done, etc. I realized that there was no way I had the time, the discipline, or the energy to get through it all. Tomorrow would come too quickly with all its plans and responsibilities and I'd have lost my chance.

So, I did what any self-respecting sloth would do. Played too much Spider Solitaire, under the guise of, "It's early, it's Sunday, and I'm not quite awake." Then I went upstairs to do my morning routine and found between the pages of a pink-covered book exactly what I needed.

The book is Sarah Ban Breathnach's "Simple Abundance:A Daybook of Comfort and Joy". I think I first bought this book more than ten years ago. Back then, I couldn't get into it and after it sat on my shelf for a while, I gave it away. But the expression goes, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears" and so last month, I heard Oprah interview Breathnach (you can get it at Oprah.com's Spirit Channel) and decided to give the book another try. If you've heard of Oprah's practice of keeping a gratitude journal, this is the book that inspired that. The daybook has a reading for each day of the year. Today's is entitled, "A Tale of Two Times." In it she quotes poet Henry Van Dyke, "Time is/Too slow for those who Wait/Too swift for those who Fear/Too long for those who Grieve/Too short for those who Rejoice..." We all know how fickle time is - Harry and Kit found it unbearably long last year in Algebra class, vacations are always too short, their train ride today will be too long.

Breathnach goes on to explain the ancient Greek idea of time's dual nature; chronos and kairos. Chronos is the aspect of time that most of us live with most of the time - and the aspect of time I felt pressing on me this morning. It's deadlines, dropping the kids off and picking them up on time, the alarm clock ringing, the dog barking for dinner, trying to get it all done. Kairos, on the other hand, is infinite time, flow, passion, love, joy. We live in chronos but we wish for kairos. Again, from Breathnach, "Chronos requires speed so that it won't be wasted. Kairos requires space so that it might be savored." Chronos is doing, kairos is being.

Needless to say, this was the reading I needed just then. I continued on my morning routine, folding the laundry (after the ecstasy, the laundry), doing my Yoga, meditating. And that's how I got to my moment of kairos. Interestingly, I've noticed that when I get to that still, peaceful, and joyful kairotic place when meditating, I don't need to stay there long. I think there's a good reason for this - the nature of kairos is infinite. Although it has to do with time, by its very nature, it has to do with the timelessness of time. So, a few minutes of it or many seems to be all the same.

The end of Van Dyke's poem is, "But for those who love, time is eternity." Which is why when we are totally absorbed doing something we love, time seems to stop, we are unaware of its passage. I get there through writing, gardening, singing loudly as I drive. You, no doubt, have other ways. Whatever they are, I believe that no matter how busy we are in chronos, in order to live a full and happy live, we have got to make time to get to kairos.

Miracles

2008-10-08T13:18:00.002-04:00

I find many things miraculous: t.v.; internet; airplanes; big trees that grow from small seeds; reproduction; the cyclical nature and delicate balance of our physical world and that it can sustain so many injuries still persist; that someone came up with a recipe for candied bacon ice-cream (www.davidliebovitz.com); that my dog is still loved even though he's such a rascal. The list goes on and on.

I know that many would argue that none of the above are miracles: indeed, there are explanations for how each work (except perhaps the bacon Ice-cream). Maybe, but I'm not convinced. I've read descriptions of how television works: it's still a mystery, and therefore a miracle, to me. All these pixels being sent through cable lines or the airwaves and then rearranging themselves in just the right places on our screens. If you get it, my hat's off to you - I'm sticking with the theory that it's a miracle.

There are big miracles and small miracles. That I get dinner on the table most nights regardless of my dog's attempts to snatch it as I'm cooking: small miracle. That I gave birth to Harry after years of infertility and knowing all that could and did go "wrong" to keep me from conceiving, and then suddenly did, big miracle. Seeing Harry's heartbeat when he was an embryo, just a few days old - very big miracle. That he's now 6'2" and driving, ah, you get the idea.

I don't mean to be flip: I really do think of all these as miracles. Albert Einstein said, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." When I first told Harry this, he was confused: "Which way was right?" he wondered. Upon reflection, I understood his confusion, especially living in this culture, with its emphasis on science. But I am firmly, and more than ever, living as though everything is a miracle. Even with scientific explanations, I think (as did Einstein), that if you keep digging deeper, you get to some very unanswerable questions. Furthermore, I never really "got" science until I realized that all it really does is report observations of "what is" - the ultimate "why" and "how" never really gets answered.

BTW, Einstein, when asked to describe radio said this, "You see, wire telegraph is a kind of a very, very long cat. You pull his tail in New York and his head is meowing in Los Angeles. Do you understand this? And radio operates exactly the same way: you send signals here, they receive them there. The only difference is there is no cat."

So, this is yet another long and circuitous way for me to get to my point: Kit and I both had Energy Mirrors sessions this week (it's a form of energy healing). So, this begs the question, why would I consider this as a medical option? It's based on a healer, essentially in an altered state of consciousness, reading your energy field and mirroring it back at you to reorganize your energy field and create healing. Yup, I'd say it's way out there (and I no longer care about that). Why this technique, with this healer? I dunno. I met Michele last week and after months of reading and thinking about energy healing, but never in that time hearing about Energy Mirrors, I just had a feeling that this was the technique I wanted to try. And that Michele was a good person to try it with. Kit was game.

I had my session on Monday. I told Michele my maladies: sore neck, sore foot, kidneys, cough. I lay back on her reclining chair, covered myself with a blanket, and closed my eyes. At times I felt like a swirl of energy was around my face, or I had heightened sensation in my foot or neck. About an hour later, she cleared her throat. I opened my eyes. "I'm getting that you should come back in five weeks," she said. "And your kidneys are functioning fine. Don't worry about them." That's all she said (well, there was more - we chatted for almost another hour, but none of it related to the session). Michele doesn't like to say too much about it - it's in the realm of energy, not thought. I'm fine with that. And darned if my neck pain (which I've had for over a year and a half isn't mostly gone - 90% I'd say. My foot's probably 80% or more better (after a month of pain). The cough? Hmm, I think I'm coughing less - I'm certainly noticing it less. Interestingly, I told Michele about my kidney diagnosis (nephrocalcinosis/hypercalciurea), but not that my kidney function has always been fine.

One more thing, and I don't know if it's related (although many say there are no coincidences, and if that's so, it is). As I was waiting for my appointment, I was looking through the notebook that I keep my medical information in. I came upon the name of a doctor whom I had heard speak on NPR a few years ago. He's a nephrologist in Massachusetts and I was impressed. I'd asked the nephrologist I see in Rochester if he knew of him, thinking if he gave him the thumbs up, I'd switch and save myself the long drive to Rochester each year. He hadn't and I kept trucking out west each fall. This year, my appointment is on a day that I hate to miss (Rensselaer County Cross Country meet, my nephew is coming to visit, the day before Shay goes to Boston for a Bar Mitzvah so he'll need help packing). I really, really don't want to go to Rochester and although I've called a number of times to see if I can change it, there are no appointments until January (and there's only one thing worse than driving from Albany to Rochester and that's doing it in January, when the days are shortest and the weather the worst). In any event, hmm, the name of this doctor written in my notebook rang a bell this time, and the bell it rang was the Kripalu Yoga Center. Turns out he's the medical director there. And will be happy to see me. Why do I think this fits so nicely with this energy healing session? First of all, I think time is squishier and less linear than we believe. I'd have to go through more quantum physics (and my friend Einstein's theories) than I'm prepared to right now to make that case, so I won't. Gentle reader, I don't expect you to take my word for it - but, like the rest of this blog, it's what I believe at this squishy moment of time. So, now I'll have a new doctor - a holistic nephrologist which is outrageously cool as I'm no longer interested in pursuing healthcare based on illness. Now I'm interested in healthcare based on wellness. Doctors don't really know why one person heals and another doesn't and I can write reams on this, but I've kept you here long enough. Suffice to say, that I think there's more we don't know than what we do and I refuse to limit my healthcare to only the commonly known variables.

Kit's work was more to see if she's back on the right track, energy-wise, after her health challenges of the last few months. Michele believes she is. Interestingly, before starting, to show us how the technique works, Michele did some work aloud so we'd be familiar with the process. She came up with, "Kit needs space." "Hah!" I thought, "I could've told her that!" as that's been the theme of Kit's life for months now: "Mom, can I ride my bike alone?" "Mom, can I take Mobley on a really long walk?" Not to mention the very nasty looks I get from my incredibly sweet daughter whenever I stick my nose where it doesn't belong (in her business). "Resonable guess? She's fourteen," you think. I don't think so. I wouldn't pick that phrase for either Harry or Shay at this point although they're also in those teen years.

One last thought (I think). The way I look at life these days is this: my perception is limited. I can only see what I see based on where I am and where I'm looking. I have to change my perception to see more or differently. If I carry a solely scientific perception, I can only see what science has to offer. And century by century (or decade by decade or even year by year now), as science changes, what we believe changes. So, I am open to energy healing because I just don't believe that we know all we'll ever know about this.

It's all a miracle. I don't know how it works. I don't even care. I can turn my head without pain for the first time in months, I can walk the dog without hobbling and this is good. Very good. I'll send you off with a question though, one Shay used to ask when he was a toddler. If you know the answer, please let me know - as after all these years, it still has me stumped:

"Where do boo-boos go when they go away? Do they go to Grandpa's car? Do they go into the woods?"

It's a mystery to me.

Iodine

2008-10-02T09:04:00.002-04:00

A quick note today, curtesy of Kit and Dr. Perry's high school chemistry class:

Iodine readily sublimes.

I love it. If you seem me and I greet you with that it's because it's the greatest line I've ever heard.

And, apologize for this, but...

I think it's sublime.

(Why was Chem. never this much fun when I was in high school?)

Smacked Upside the Head

2008-10-01T11:14:00.007-04:00

First of all - I'm warning you. This may seem to some, like a post where I go way out there, you know, into La-La Land. So, if you're not interested or will think I've gone off the deep end if you read this one, I direct to my Sept. 29 post, "Mobley's Ticker Tape Parade" - it's fun, light, and totally of the material world.

But, if you're up to join me in my wanderings through other places where the land between your feet may seem to shift ever so slightly, come on along!

This story starts two days ago at Kit's endocrinologist's office. To recap: she'd lost weight, too much weight over the spring and summer. Why? Good question. Possibly for no other reason than she's a fourteen year old girl living in a culture where food and weight are complicated issues. But still, when her body crashed in August, we needed to find out more. This resulted in an amazing amount of medical tests, almost all of which came back normal.

Fortunately, Kit quickly regained her strength, health, and is back in the normal range for weight. However, her thyroid and pituitary tests were low, and although these can be accounted for by the weight loss, of course, we followed up. Which was why we were back at the doctor's office.

I was sure Shimon, the physician assistant, would be happy to see the transformation in Kit since he'd last examined her exactly a month before. At that time she looked her absolute worst (sorry, Kit): she was rail thin then and had come directly from a sleepover, where, predictably, little sleeping had been done. The girls had been making a horror film (available on Youtube) in the middle of the night. Kit's character was supposed to fall through a doorway. Kit, doing more realism than acting, actually fell - onto a concrete floor. We learned that when you look like you can barely stand on your own and can barely keep your eyes open, that doctors are going to be very concerned about a gash on your chin - both Shimon and the doctor assumed she'd collapsed. Just a month later, Kit is ten pounds heavier, her color is back, and aside from a small scar, her chin is healed. Her blood test results are also pretty good and Shimon proclaimed that she doesn't have an endocrine problem.

Of course, this was good news and I was ready to leave. It was too late for our usual after-doctor's appointment trip to Starbucks to get Kit a frappachino so she could return to school caffeine-crazed to the great entertainment of her friends (and annoyance of her teachers?), but still, we'd have time for some mother-daughter bonding before the boys got home. I was looking forward to it. Then Shimon went through a list of follow-ups that he and the doctor were suggesting, that could have made my hair curl (had it not already been so): GI series, uterine ultrasound, eating disorder evaluation.

"Wait a second!" my brain screamed. I'm sitting here with a kid who's the picture of health! Yes, she was sick this summer - but she recovered quickly and hasn't been sick since. Aside from a few months, she's always been a wonderful eater - enjoying a wide variety of mostly healthy foods. She could have Crohn's Disease or an eating disorder that's in remission, warned Shimon. She could. She could also have.....well, I don't know or want to think about what else, but surely, my mind screamed, I'm not having her tested for all possibilities. And that's all these diseases were: possibilities.

I'm careful when it comes to my kids' health. Their pediatrician is careful and conservative, too, and I love her for that. But this time, my mind balked at further testing. I'd been in a great mood for days, feeling peaceful, blissful - my meditation practice was going well, I was back to doing Yoga postures, my writing was going well, I'd even mopped the floor. By the middle of the appointment, I felt myself being sucked down into a vortex of gloom. And there I stayed for the rest of the day, unable to tap into the joy I'd felt such a short time before. I was so jubilant earlier in the day, that I'd contemplated the wastefulness of dark moods - everything seemed so perfect that I was sure that this time, I could keep the feeling going. Hah!

On to yesterday (I apologize, this is a longer story than I'd realized). Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah and I'd agreed to take the kids to the synagogue for services. At this point in my life, I didn't really feel the need to be there for myself. Having a daily meditation and contemplation practice, I feel I tap into the idea of trying to be my best self on a daily basis now, and doing so once a year feels artificial. I'd rushed the kids and myself in the morning to be at the synagogue on time - last year we'd arrived late and sat downstairs where we watched the service over a television projection. I'd felt very cut-off from the actual service that was going on in the sanctuary upstairs. I felt like it was worth the rush to be upstairs in the beautiful, high ceilinged, airy worship space rather than downstairs watching a blurry screen in a dank, dark room.

As we sat through services, I struggled. First of all, I felt like I was being bombarded by germs. The rabbi had a cold, the friend I sat next to had a cold, and I felt like there were sick people all around me. (Harry later told me that the man sitting behind him coughed on his neck a few times.) I've been trying to follow Dr. Wayne W. Dyer's advise to not pay any heed to germs so as not to manifest illness and found I was struggling to do so. I struggled with the service: the music, which I usually love, sounded so low-vibrational. Again, following Wayne Dyer, I've been trying to up my vibrations to tap into higher frequencies, which are believed to be more creative and to help manifest what you want into your life. I have to admit, I have no idea what I'm doing and if I'm practicing this correctly. For all I know, those minor-key Jewish melodies may actually have very high frequencies, but they didn't feel that way to me. Being in the service, I felt like I was surrounded with exactly the opposite of what I need. And I struggled over whether or not to follow-up with any of the things that Shimon suggested. And whether I was a bad mother or not if I didn't. And whether people would think me irresponsible if I didn't. And whether I should be concerned with other's opinions of me. And knowing that to walk this path, I can't be. I also struggled with the idea that I seemed unable to take anything from this morning, other than being a good chauffeur for the kids. Although there were some peaceful moments where I was able to relax into my thoughts and mantra, mostly I struggled. On and on and on it went, for two hours, until finally, it was time for Shay and me to help set up lunch. Thank God.

I felt more relaxed as soon as I left the service and went downstairs to the kitchen. I got busy putting bagels in baskets, seltzers on the table, and a bunch of other small tasks. We were done in a half hour, at which point I went to the dreaded downstairs temporary sanctuary to watch the service on the television screen - and found it was very pleasant! The sun had come out, and I had a good view into the courtyard where we'd set up the luncheon. The courtyard looked welcoming and peaceful. A cool breeze blew across me. There were not too many worshippers down here - we had elbow room - no one seemed to be oozing germs, and it felt relaxed and relaxing. I stayed to listen to the shofar, watched some small children leave with their parents, and decided I'd had enough. I also realized I was parched.

So back to the kitchen I went, grabbing some juice along the way. I was so thirsty, I kept filling and refilling my cup with water and drinking it down. I was shocked at how thirsty I was - I felt like I was trying to wash my insides clean with this need for water. Presently, another woman, a bit older than myself I'd guess, who'd helped set up the lunch came in. We started talking. She told me about her plans to renovate her kitchen and the other renovations she'd done on her house since moving in five years ago. We chatted about this for quite a while. Then she mentioned that she's a physical therapist and works from home, and since she does she can work nights and weekends. I mentioned how nice that must be for her clients. And then she said that it is, but she finds it too tiring to do p.t. at night, so that's when she does her distance healing.

BAM!

Say what?

Distance healing?

Huh.

It was like I was smacked upside the head.

To keep a long story shorter than it could be, we talked about that. And the variety of healing work she does: cranial sacral therapy, energy mirrors and such. I'd been playing around with the idea of trying Reiki for a long time but had yet to act on it. I now had a feeling that I'd now found a good person to try energy healing with and other types of healing to try.

So, why all the fuss about Kit at the beginning of this post? Because she's going to go to Michelle, too, so that Michelle can balance her energies, too. As soon as Michelle suggested she could work on Kit, the dark mass that had been clouding my brain vanished. I knew then how I felt about all these medical procedures: that at this point all they could do was stress us out. I know Kit's healthy now: that's evident by the glow being back in her skin, her renewed energy, and yes, her appetite. Might she need some of those tests at some point in her life? Of course, she might. Anything is possible. Anything is always possible. But for now, I have a healthy kid here and I'm not going to pull her out of school and out of her life for unnecessary tests.

After talking to Michelle, I knew what I was doing at the synagogue yesterday. Meeting her. Opening up to another new experience. Finding an alternative for Kit.

Last take: we decided to skip the luncheon. I walked out of the synagogue and saw, walking down the sidewalk, Rachelle, a member of the congregation whom I had last seen at the Albany airport the day we flew to Vancouver. Waiting for our plane, I'd shown Rachelle photos of Kit's shoes. I'd since forgotten. She saw me and said, "You're just who I was looking for?" "I am?" I replied. "I want Kit to decorate my shoes," she said, "They're in my car." Just the day before I'd realized that for the first time in months, Kit had no shoe commissions to work on. She does now. So, I guess I was really at the synagogue for two purposes: to meet Michelle and to help Kit get a commission from Rachelle!

Mobley's Ticker-Tape Parade

2008-09-29T11:47:00.004-04:00

I'm mostly done raising my three children. I know we still have a long road ahead of us - even as adults, they'll still be our children and we'll be there for them come what may. But, gone are the days when if I turned my back for a minute I turned back to find children covered head to toe (between the toes, actually) in marker or someone with a new haircut (Shay curtesy of a very pleased Kit), or wearing a newly decorated shirt (Kit again, wielding her scissors). I shan't again find baby Shay covered in paper towels (deposited by his siblings) while sleeping in his crib, or a naked Harry covered by the dozen books he tore to shreds (before undressing himself) as a prelude to his afternoon nap. And I must say I'm happy that I'll never again take my own time-out to calm down only to find that my dear darlings found every towel and wash cloth they could, soaked them and threw them around with wild abandon (apparently) while I sat downstairs, trying to breathe so I could make it through the day with three small children.

I love that they're teenagers now (okay, almost a teenager in Shay's case). I love talking about politics, current events, and our philosophies of life with them. I love to see them reaching for more independence and working to make sense of the world and themselves in it - and, finally realizing, that adults are just people, no different than them.

So, why oh why oh why, have I saddled myself with another toddler? A four legged one at that, who has no hopes of ever growing up and becoming mature or independent.

I love Mobley. I truly do. I love his beautiful furry brown body. I love looking at his regal jowls (they're my favorite part of his body). I delight in seeing his front paws when he stands and places them just so, like a ballerina in first position. He's got a great smile. He's a gentle soul. And up until two weeks ago, he was great company.

Now (I think it's the cool fall weather), he's a demon with the terrible twos. He took a flying leap on Saturday and snatched a fig newton right out of Harry's hand. He's been picking my papers off the table and tearing them to pieces. He barked for almost a solid five hours when Kit's friends were over the other night (we realized later that he might have missed Andrew, Kit's one friend who will play with him). But today, was the worst yet.

Perhaps it was that Mobley sensed a holiday of sorts. I was mopping the floor. My bi-annual mopping. A cause to celebrate (certainly for him as he loves a good sponge). I thought Hank might have himself a silent celebration that I'd finally gotten to it (he who likes a clean house). I was feeling alternately happy that I had the energy to mop and was taking care of my family by doing so, and chagrined I was so darn proud of doing this at all, when I know that to have a clean(ish) floor, with five people and a dog living here I should be mopping it weekly (fat chance). I was also pondering whether living in a place with a floor this dirty qualifies as camping out.

The celebration started predictably enough. Mobley was In the house, out of the house, back in the house tracking muddy footprints on the newly mopped floor, back out of the house. You get the picture.

Then I went downstairs to clean the floor cloth we keep under Mobley's bowls. Big mistake. I could hear the sound of paper being ripped. I couldn't quite get it - I'd put all my papers away (not an easy chore, that). I came back upstairs to....

The whole downstairs filled with shredded paper! A ticker tape parade of paper! Paper covering the floor in the great room, living room and den. Wet paper shreds stuck to wet floor. And a gloriously happy pooch shaking the remains of a ripped paper grocery bag. And laughing (yes, Mobley laughs - especially when I catch him doing something he shouldn't and he knows he's faster than me and not nearly as dumb as I've made him out to be, so he knows there's no way I'll be able to stop him until he's good and ready to stop. Which in this case...ah, I think you know what it was in this case.)

I finally remembered seeing a bag of shredded paper next to Hank's desk. The good news is that no one is going to steal our identity. Nuh-uh. Mobley to the rescue. Just another dog protecting his master. And throwing himself one heck of a ticker-tape parade.

Worrying

2008-09-16T08:55:00.002-04:00

Seneca said, "There are more things...that frighten us than injure us, and we suffer more in imagination than in reality."

Here's a dirty little secret: I worry.

Okay, okay, those of you that know me can now pick yourselves off the floor and stop laughing.

I have news for you: it is a secret from the many people I know who think I'm calm.

Alright already, I said, "Quit laughing!"

There are people out there - friends even, lots of them, who have told me over the years how calm I seem.

Really, I'm glad for all the rest of you who know me better than that, that I can provide you with so much fun right now. I bet you never knew that I'm such a good actress.

But I have an even dirtier little secret: I really am worrying much less these days. I can - and do - turn off the worrying most of the time.

Gone are the sleepless nights where I stared at the ceiling, willing to see the future, with whatever concern I had resolved. When Harry was little and having all his medical and developmental issues, both Hank and I spent night after night, lying stock still next to each other with out worries for him wrapped around us like blankets. I can still feel the tears trickling down the sides of my face as I cried silently for my son, who was constantly ill and weaker even than the preemie triplet I knew who had numerous heart surgeries as an infant. Gone are the fall nights when I wondered how the bills would be paid for the next few months, because for some reason, that was the time of year when we were always running dry. Gone are even the days when I worried over the playground politics, both for the kids and myself.

How do I know I worry less? The financial news for one: with Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy and the cautionary emails from our financial advisor coming every couple of days, I realized this morning that I reacted to the news with aplomb. No one really knows where the economy is headed. As long as we have a roof over our head and food on the table, we'll be okay. I finally understand that my worrying will not change Wall Street and what happens on it one bit.

Likewise, Kit's MRI will show a problem with her pituitary gland or it won't (actually, I totally believe it won't), the pain in my heel will go away or it won't, my father-in-law will have to go back to the hospital or he won't, etc., etc. etc.

That I'm not worrying about these things doesn't mean I don't care about the outcomes. Of course I do. But worrying will do nothing to insure that what I want will come to be. I want what I want. What will be, will be. Do-be-do-be-do. As an unknown author said, "For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe." I resign.

There may be things I can do to try to influence the universe to align for what I want. This is manifesting, which I mentioned very briefly a couple of posts ago. I'm not ready to write about that yet. This jury is still out on that. And this jury isn't worried about coming to a verdict either.

One last thing: I'd be lying through my teeth (or my phalanges) if I didn't own up to the fact that there is one thing I worry about. A lot. Meditation doesn't help. Logic doesn't help. Maybe a good stiff drink would help, but that might be illegal under the circumstances and it would certainly make me a really, really, really bad role model. I worry about being in a car driven by my sixteen year old son. And Harry, if you're out there, I swear it has nothing whatsoever to do with your driving....

A Dialogue

2008-09-12T08:02:00.003-04:00

God: I read yesterday's post, Madelyn. You're absolutely right. I've been having a good laugh, it's one of my favorite things to do.

M: I'm happy to do something for you!

G: But you know, I have a little secret for you...

M: Wow! A secret for me! What did I do to deserve it?

G: You are. That's all you ever need to deserve it all. Anyway, ready for the secret?

M: You bet!

G: Quit planning. Start doing.

M: That's it?

G: That's it. Quit planning, start doing. It leaves me less space to work my mischief.

M: Huh. That's it?

G: That's it. Trust in me. Trust everything around you. Trust yourself. This is all one and the same. When you really know your purpose, I don't have to throw down roadblocks to get your attention or if I do, you forge ahead anyway as if they weren't there. That's what I do, that's what I want you to do. Remember, your job is to learn to find your way to me - which means you have to be more like me. Would I let anything stop me?

M: No you wouldn't! And I'm doing it now- I'm writing, not thinking about writing, not writing in my head, not finding what else I can do besides writing.

G: Good girl! One more thing -

M: Anything for you, G!

G: Quit referring to me as "he". I don't like that. As a matter of fact, if I weren't universally and unconditionally loving, I'd even say I hate that.

M: I'm sorry. How should I refer to you?

G: First of all, don't be sorry. You can't insult me - I'm God, I know I'm perfect, I'm not dependent on your opinion of me and I love you no matter what you do. To answer your question, I'm fine being called God, Allah, Krishna, and a gazillion other words and sounds. But "he" or "she" just add to your thinking of me as that old guy with a beard. Remember, you were created in my image, you are part of me. But I did not create your body or your male or femaleness or any part of your form in my image. Referring to me thus confuses you. And that's a problem for you.

M: Yes, it is confusing. I struggle to find a name for you that feels right.

G: Maybe you can google my rapper name...

M: It's worth a try. Thanks, God. I'm eternally grateful.

G: You're welcome. And I'm eternally here.

God's Big Belly Laugh

2008-09-11T15:23:00.002-04:00

There's a quote, "Men plan, God laughs". If this is so, God's having a good laugh on me.

I had many plans for this year: a pile of books to read as research for a few stories I wanted to write, writing those stories, blogging more often, art book making, felting, etc., etc. Who knows? Maybe even cleaning the house and cooking dinner.

God had other ideas. I'd laugh, too, except his idea is that I learn Trigonometry.

This of course, is only part of the story. So, to give you the full historical perspective, let's go back a mere three weeks. That was August 21, the day after we returned from our blissful vacation to the Eden of the north: Canada, aka "Heaven on Earth". I was joyful. I saw a joyous year spread ahead of me. I didn't even care that the basement had flooded while we were gone. A tiny blip on the screen. Nothing to be bothered by.

The next day, Kit got sick. That was harder. She had lots of tests, mostly blood tests. We're still waiting for an MRI and a diagnosis (but she is much better). One car needed repair and now needs another. Bar Mitzvah lessons for Shay are starting almost two months earlier than expected. Hank had knee surgery. I had issues with Shay's school schedule. Harry had issues with his school schedule. There were issues and details and distractions too numerous to write about.

What was happening to my plans? I wasn't getting to any of them.

And, then....

Harry's math was changed. From Intermediate Algebra to Trig. Gulp. It's a stretch. We're looking for a tutor. So far, the ones I've contacted want to work with him right after school. Fortunately, God, or the universe, or whatever you call it is understanding and realizes that straddling a 16 year old with Trig., Chemistry, and a Spanish class taught all in Spanish AND taking away sports is just too mean. So, neither the almighty nor Hank or I will make him give up the team.

So I decided I'd better learn Trig. as a backup plan so I can tutor Harry.

Which is really funny as I didn't even realize that Trig. is the study of triangles (actually, now that I'm studying it, I know it is technically the study of the measurement of triangles) until decades after I finished high school. I kid you not. Hank's fond of saying, "Trig, get it, like a tricycle? or like a triangle?" To which I like to reply, "It's not a trigcycle or a trigangle, so how was I supposed to know?"

In any event, it is enough for you to know that I had two standard answers in high school. When my French teacher asked every Monday what I did over the weekend, I responded, "Rein" (nothing.) At least, that was my standard answer for about a year and a half until she informed me that I had to do better than that. So, from then until the end of my high school French experience (another year and a half), I responded, "Je vais au cinema." (I went to the movies.) If she asked what I'd seen, I responded, "Rein", or simply shrugged. (It's a good thing I'm not one of my kids, I'd be really ticked off at myself for being such a slacker!). My other standard answer was, you guessed it, in math. Any trig. question (which I now know, since I'm educated in such things, were questions about the measurement of triangles) was answered by me as "Sohcahtoa." It's amazing I ever graduated.

Clearly, God has long range plans. And since I didn't bother learning Trig. in high school, it seems I've only postponed the inevitable. I sure hope God is not quite so focused on having me learn a foreign language (although my attempts at Japanese are always good for giving Kit a laugh).

Wish me luck. And maybe after I complete my research I can write a story about a reincarnated psychic who comes to earth to save a family through trigonometry. I'm pretty sure it hasn't yet been written.

By the way, at least one website credits the above quote to a rewriting of the Biblical verse Psalm 33:10 which is, "The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing. He frustrates the plans of the people." Hmm. I do believe there's much truth in many ancient text, the Bible among them, but I'm not going to get all serious on you today.

Letting Go, Living with Joy, and Other Lessons from the Pacific Northwest

2008-09-05T09:59:00.004-04:00

Kit never thought I'd do it. She was proud and vowed to brag about it to her friends. Shay never thought I'd do it and shook his head in wonder. "Did you really?" he asked. "See for yourself," I said and showed him. I never thought Hank would, but he did and I was a witness. Neither of us would ever do it again, but I, for one, am not sorry. It was a moment of sheer abandon, of breaking away from old habits, fears, and definitions of who we were and what we'd do, and those moments are exhilarating.

At approximately 4:00 p.m., PST on August 17th, amidst a crowd of the coolest-looking mountain bikers you could imagine, with the P.A. system blaring the start of the Kokanee Crank Works award ceremony, Hank and I each drank a bottle of Monster energy drink. It's not for the faint-of-heart. It's not for my generation. And, frankly, it tastes like crap. But, in some weird, overly caffeinated, overly sugary, and much-to-my-chagrin not-even-vegetarian way, it was fun. Another barrier overcome.

I admit it, had I not just free-styled on the zip-line (which means I zipped upside-down, Dude - oh, sorry, my inner mountain biker is coming out), had I not Frankenstein-walked down a glacier, had I not been watching the bikers who all look like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles come to life in their body armor and too hip for mere mortals clothing all weekend, I'd have passed up the Monster in favor of a more grown up drink (say, bottled water).

The backstory: I'd been reading Dr. Wayne Dyer's, "Manifest Your Destiny: Nine Spiritual Practices for Getting Everything You Want" all week. I do have a problem with manifesting: do I really even want to? I'm not sure. And maybe that's because for the past few months I've been working on.....letting go. Accepting. Trusting (or trying to) that everything happens as it should, or, at least, realizing that most things are really out of my control anyway so it's high time I give up any illusions to the contrary. Whether I'd use it to manifest or not, I was finding the book meaningful and inspiring.

Further backstory: I was conflicted about this vacation. The kids are getting older so I thought we shouldn't waste the chance to do something cool with them. I like (or used to like, or think I should like) traveling. However, I don't like planning our trips. I picked Vancouver partly because it looked like there'd be lots of fun outdoor activities (which there were), it would keep the city-slickers in our group happy (it did), and I figured I'd make a hotel and plane reservations and the planning would be done (what was I thinking?). There was way more planning and pre-trip decision-making than I'd expected. I got more than a little cranky and stressed over this. After too many bad moods, I planned whatever I did and left the rest to chance.

You could say at some point of the planning, I let go. And, everything, I mean everything, worked out perfectly. We took a stretch limousine to our hotel (and back to the airport) which was both unplanned and less expensive than taking cabs or the bus, we stayed in a two-floor penthouse suite (which we hadn't booked and didn't pay extra for), Harry and I zip-lined (we hadn't planned to do so - he because of his fear of heights, me to keep him company when the others did), we white-water rafted on a 95 degree day (unplanned), when the rains finally came, we didn't sea kayak - because, although I'd wanted to, I hadn't made the reservation and therefore, we weren't committed to going! The list goes on, but I won't bore you will all the details. Basically, for eight blissful days, we lived charmed lives (okay, maybe not Harry, who might have spent the week wondering why he was on a family vacation instead of working toward his driver's license). I can't remember ever feeling so peaceful or that I was in a safe bubble where good stuff just kept coming our way.

Which doesn't mean we didn't have cranky too-much-togetherness moments. We did. Life is life, after all. As Zen teaches, "Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water." But still, I don't need anything to ever be better than they were that week. It was a gift. And I am grateful for it.

So, aside from the Monster and how things just kept working out for the best over and over again, one of the highlights for me was the glacier hike. I didn't realize we would actually be walking up a steep glacier (which just goes to show that even when we have hard evidence in front of us - in this case, a very good description of the trip on the website (which I'd read), we can believe what we want to and not what is real (I'd assume we'd walk across a flat glacier as Hank an I had done before. I thought the crampons, climbing tool, and ropes mentioned on the website would be for show and to give the tourists a thrill). But, we needed all this gear and at least a few of us actually used our climbing tool to keep from sliding down the glacier when first my crampon fell off and then, like ducks in a line, Hank, Harry, and Kit went down (when you're roped together, it really is all for one and one for all). I'd never said my mantra so much or with so much feeling as on the hour and a half climb. When we got to the top, I thanked our guide Alex for getting us to the top and stopping us from sliding all the way down (btw, Alex may be calmest person I've ever met, which is really interesting considering his passion for extreme back-country sports - this winter he plans on doing a 12-day back-country ski trip in 24 hours). And I thanked Leonard for teaching me my mantra.

Of course, what goes up, must come down, and that meant us. Without our crampons, which I tried not to think too much about, having just developed great love and affection for my crampons. "Going down is counterintuitive but trust me," said Alex. "Lean your body out, take a big Frankenstein step and....let go." That last part took me a while to get, but I did, and to my immense shock and relief, walking down a snowy mountain is actually fun. And, as Alex promised, and what I think makes this a great metaphor for life, you take a big step trusting that it'll be okay, you slide....but then you stop.

Zip-lining, by comparison, is easy. You wear a harness and the harness is attached to the cables. We did five lines, zigzagging fifteen stories over Fitzsimmons Creek (the name of which doesn't do it justice - it's more of a raging river - albeit a thin one - than a mere creek) in the rain forest between Whister and Blackcomb mountains. For the last zip, our guides informed us that we were to "freestyle", which means zip upside down. Scott, one of our guides, helped us get in position and just as he was about to push me off, he said, "It's all about letting go." It was pure fun. The only problem with zipping is it's over too fast.

I let go in the city, too. The one thing I really disliked about Vancouver is that there is a large homeless population (a recent count estimated 1,500 in the city proper, which is not a particularly large area). I feel compassion for these people, but was still disconcerted by seeing so many, especially downtown where we were staying. One day Shay lamented that he had no change to give these people as he walked by them. The next morning, I emptied the change I had into his hands and told him to give it as he pleased. We spent the day walking around the city. Shay gave my change to as many people as he could. I replenished his supply whenever I got more. Harry and Kit had their own change which they gave out. The kids felt badly that no matter how much change we had, there were still more people to help. They did feel good though, when I heard one man say to another after Harry gave them money, "Come on, we've got enough to get breakfast." Toward the end of our walk, we went into the 7-11 across from our hotel. We'd noticed that there was usually one homeless person or another hanging out there, opening the door for customers in hopes of a tip. As we came out of the store, a man opened the door. I had no change, and without thinking, I looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you but I'm afraid I don't have anything for you." With the nicest smile, he looked back at me and said, "You're welcome. And it's no problem." I suddenly realized, that through witnessing my children's generosity all day and how they opened their hearts to these people, I'd come to accept the homeless of Vancouver as Vancouverites like the rest of the city's people. I'd been afraid of these people and it was a relief to let go of that fear.

Lastly, one thing I love about Canadiens is their, "No worries" attitude. Here in Averill Park, when you thank someone, the response is often "Yup." (what does that even mean?) In Canada, the response is usually, "No worries" or, "No problem." I love that. And I'll keep work on remembering that it's all about letting go.

Back to the Real World?

2008-08-26T10:21:00.002-04:00

I'd planned to write about our vacation. It was awe-inspiring.

Then we came home. And got what felt like being literally thrown against a wall back into "the real world".

Flooded basement (we had expected it and planned for it as well as we could). Cross-country practice. Bar Mitzvah preparation. School schedule that may not be quite right (or right at all). Illness. As Zorba says (see blog from....) "the full catastrophe".

But, is this the real world? And does it have to be? While I was on vacation, I read Wayne Dyer's "Manifest Your Life". He, and others, believe that we human beings can affect way more in our lives than most of us believe we can do, believe we deserve to do, and know how to do.

On vacation, I started applying his meditation techniques to learn to do so. I do believe that we are capable of more than we give ourselves credit for and more than we try to do. We give ourselves and each other some very limiting messages such as, "We're only human".

Dyer, like others who follow Eastern and ancient ways of thought believe that God, or spirit, or whatever you wish to call it that creates life, is omnipresent - and that means within each of us. As Dyer explains it, if you think of God as the ocean, humans are a glass that contains ocean water - how much is up to us. But if we fill our glass up, we can be more "Godlike" and affect a bit more - never as much as the whole ocean because we're only a small bit. If we keep only a drop of water in our cup, we may not affect anything at all. But, just as all water returns to the ocean in the form of rain or runoff, so do we keep returning to the ocean of God.

I love this explanation and I love the idea of living my life without putting limits on myself. Because once I limit myself, I cut my self off from all sorts of possibilities. Might I be wrong? Of course. But, who cares? I'd rather be wrong trying to do the most with this lifetime than be wrong assuming I can only do a little.

Check This Out

2008-07-18T13:38:00.004-04:00

Visit The Intention Experiment

Lynn McTaggart has been running intention experiments online for a while now. She's had meditators sign on at a specific site at a specific time and send a prescribed intention. You can read about the experiments at her site (click above). She (as well as others) has shown that this can, in fact, have measurable effects. The targets have been philanthropic: helping kids with ADD, helping people with Alzheimer's disease, countering pollution. She's worked with leading scientists from Princeton University and Cambridge University, among others.

On September 14, 2008, a very exciting experiment of this type will take place. It's being hyped as the "Live Aid" of intention experiments. What might be hundreds of thousands of people will gather online to send intentions of peace to a specific area of the earth. The location will probably be somewhere in the Middle East. The reason for the secrecy, is along with positively affecting the targeted area, the purpose is to study the effect. Therefore, if the meditators involved knew the location involved any change in status for the region might be due to an unmeasurable effect of people getting a jump start on sending the intention.

So, I know where I will be on September 14 at the designated time: sitting in front of my computer, meditating for peace. If you're a meditator, I invite you to join us. If not, I invite you to follow the experiment.

BTW, I heard the best explanation of why intention doesn't work for all of us who've asked to win the lottery, get a new car, etc. It's a simple explanation and I think it makes perfect sense. The universe doesn't care about you winning the lottery, etc. The universe does care with the evolution of your soul. You get what you need (whether you like it or want it or not). And if you happen to ask for something that you can use to advance your evolution, or make the world a better place - then you'll have the full attention and support of the universe.

But, remember: be careful what you ask for because you just may get it. Richard from Texas (from Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love") asked God to open his heart and ended up with open heart surgery. This evening I heard Ragani (a spiritual singer) tell a story about asking Swami Rama, after he was already dead to send her a sign on whether or not she should record a c.d. It was winter in Minnesota. She asked him to send a snake as a sign if she should do so (let me go on record here as saying I'd never, ever ask for a snake as a sign for anything). Wouldn't you know it, a snake was what she found later that evening in the middle of the kitchen floor! That said, I don't think you can ever go wrong asking for peace. Asking for peace with thousands of other people: always a good thing. Quantifiable or not.

Lastly, the TM people have been doing similar work for years. Check it out. It's called the Maharishi Effect.

A History of Me

2008-07-17T21:56:00.001-04:00

Part of this will post will be my spiritual history. The rest will be musings about where I am now. This will be my "whoo-hoo" out-there post, so if you're faint-of-heart, or will think I'm crazy should you read this, I'd appreciate your clicking out now.

Years ago, I made a very deliberate and conscious decision to "not go there" where issues of spirituality or anything beyond the material world beckoned. And, they had beckoned. Last year, I decided to let those doors open. As the year unfolded, I more and more decided to push at the doors. At times it's a scary business. Because I frankly have no idea what I'm going to find.

I remember thinking about the "big issues" when I was very young. How young, I really don't remember. Six? Seven? I remember believing in reincarnation at an age when I don't even know how I would have been known about it (although I realize that someone obviously had told me about it). I remember my father flying into a rage (and he's a very calm guy) when as an elementary age kid I told him I didn't believe in God (interestingly, he's the one who doesn't believe now and I'm the one who does - although I don't believe in the God I was taught about through my religion). I remember middle-of-the-night spiritual conversations with my cousin Jani when we had sleep-overs.

Then I stopped for a while. Perhaps my boring and dogmatic religious education beat it out of me. We had lots of history, some prayer, but I don't remember anything that actually encouraged us to feel God's presence - indeed, I suspect that in the time and structure of my religion then, had any of us felt God, we'd have been judged crazy.

As a late teen, I got curious about the unseen world. I read Carlos Castenda's Don Juan books, Robert Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance", some stuff about Edgar Cayce, and other books about what may lie beyond the little world I spent my days in which were filled with shopping, hanging out with my friends, and arguing with my mother. These books obviously had a big influence on me as I decided to become a philosophy major in college to continue to explore the bigger issues. Unfortunately, my studies for my degree proved disappointing: it was just more history, and only of Western thought. It left me cold, just like Sunday School had. I left college and joined the working world.

But, I still searched a bit in my early twenties. I remember taking classes in T'ai Chi, dream analysis, and astrology. I once went to a psychic. I met a man (where? how?) who told me to get married as soon as possible. I seem to remember he was an astrologist. His prediction freaked me out. Shortly after this time, I took a rafting trip down the Grand Canyon. It was an amazing trip - I was in my early twenties and went to Arizona alone. I met up with a group there, but everything was a new experience for me. A few nights after I returned home, I awoke to see that a beach at the Canyon, with our camping and rafting gear had been superimposed into the space of my bedroom. I'd been transported. The few people I've told this to (except for one person who had a similar experience and knew what I was talking about) have told me I must have been sleeping - I just thought I was awake. I've never thought so. I've been in half-sleep often enough to recognize it - this was something different. A year of so later, I lived for a while at the Grand Canyon. There I had a friend who said he was psychic. We'd sit in my dorm room and he'd tell me about the spirits that were all around us. I liked this man very much and believed him (except for some tiny questioning bit), but it freaked me out to think of these spirits and that they could be watching or listening to us. I didn't want an audience I couldn't see. Sometime later, I dated a guy who had studied Silva Mind Control. He taught me a relaxation technique through which, even nervous me, was able to achieve a very deep state of relaxation. One day, when I was with him, I grabbed an iron I thought had been turned off, by the plate. The iron was still on and was very hot. The whole palm of my hand burned intensely. He took my hand in his and within a couple of minutes, the pain was gone, there was no redness, my hand never blistered (I knew from previous experience that I blistered from iron burns). I wanted to learn to do what he could, but more than that I wanted to be normal. I wanted my life to be normal.

And that's when I decided that it was hard enough to get through life paying attention only to what is of the material world, that it was just too hard, too scary, and too weird to let in all these other things. I made a pact with life: I would be a material girl. No delving into any esoteric studies, no hanging out with the psychic, etc. Those experiences remained in the back of my mind, but when they bubbled up, I pushed them back down with an emphatic, "I have enough to do and deal with, with just this world, I don't need more."

Little by little, the push-back began. First with my pregnancies because the creation of life is miraculous and from the time that I saw my first child's heartbeat when he was just a two week old embryo, there was no denying the miracle for me (especially after the fertility nurse had, in detail, outlined all the many, many things that had to happen for a pregnancy to occur!) This child was pretty sickly as a toddler - we finally resorted to alternative medicine, which put him on the road to health. Little by little the doors became ajar.

If you've read the blog, you know the rest: reading "Eat, Pray, Love", studying Yoga philosophy, my reading, my meditation practice, etc.

Hmm, I haven't gotten to the "whoo-hoo" part, but it's time to meditate. So, to be continued.....

Staring at Walls

2008-06-24T08:24:00.003-04:00

It turns out that one thing I've always naturally done, but felt badly about, is perfectly acceptable, even considered a valuable practice.

I am given to staring at walls.

I used to see this as a character flaw. There were so many useful things I could have been doing instead. Accomplishing things. Experiencing things. So much of life was passing me by as I sat and stared. Or so I thought.

I admire the do-ers of the world. A part of me so wishes I could be like them. But now, a larger part of me simply accepts. I am who I am. And I do. I just do differently than some others.

I started this blog to chronicle my attempt to change myself into the person I wanted to be. Does it seem like I'm giving up? I'm not.

Sometimes you look for one thing and find another. Or, look for something and find it where you didn't expect it (like right in front of your nose). Like Dorothy in the "Wizard of Oz" who found that what she really wanted was home, which was what she had. What I wanted is right in front of me - or, more precisely, within me - George Harrison's, "Life Goes on Within You and Without You" makes ridiculous sense to me these days. Given that when I meditate I concentrate on feeling the air going in and out of my nose, what I was looking for really is right in front of my nose! (Somehow though, I doubt the derivation of that expression comes from meditation.)

Maybe the biggest change I needed was to see that I am fine the way I am. I've always had a good self-image (at least once I got past my twenties!). But this is a different, deeper acceptance.

I realize that staring at walls has served me well. (And that it has a name: meditation! - and all those years I thought I was just slacking!)

Staring at walls allows me to accomplish and experience things. It's what gets me to: recharge, find my beliefs, challenge my behaviors, dream of the future (which, it turns out, is great intention work and not just wasting time). Now, I've added praying and even working on healing both myself and others (which is definitely a grand experiment for me).

When I haven't spent time in this way, I've gotten caught up in blindly following society and the people around me (and although, I haven't been lead down any paths of evil, I have at times been lead away from myself and my beliefs). When I don't do this, I tend to be even crankier than usual (yes, dear friends, I can be quite the crank - just ask my family! My apologies, family - I'm working on it.)

I find it cool that I had this insight last night, on the eve of the Last Day of School. I had many plans for this year. Some achieved (redid the den), some not (neither redid the kitchen, nor finished my kids' scrapbooks). But many things I didn't even conciously know were on the list were accomplished: started writing (the blog, yay!); went to Kripalu for a weekend - with a friend (yay!) and studied with Dr. Joe Dispenza; although it's still evolving and I don't yet have a name for it, found God (will use that name now for lack of a better one at this point); discovered that I can, in fact, garden (after 15 years of failure I was losing heart); didn't redo the kitchen (which is good because I now don't want the kitchen I wanted last year!); recognize the interconnectedness of everything, myself included; am learning to surrender control. Not bad for ten months labor for a person who seemingly spends vast amounts of time staring at walls.

So, I'm off, to sit and stare. Actually, I'm off to officially "meditate" and rather than doing what I've always done, when I meditate, I close my eyes. It matters not one bit.

Namaste

p.s. - Ironically, until last year, when I took Leonard Perlmutter's class in the Art and Science of Yoga Philosophy, when I was taught to meditate, I thought I was a terrible meditator. Turns out I wasn't nearly as bad as I thought I was!

I Even Scared Myself

2008-06-12T16:25:00.004-04:00

I am feeling quite proud of myself right now. I have what it takes to be in a slasher film. I have what it takes to protect myself in a dark alley. I have an awesome scream. Bloodcurdling. It's so loud that I even scared myself screaming it. It's a talent I only discovered about a half hour ago.

However, if snakes have ears, I apologize to the garter snake who surprised me. I know he's a good sign. My garden is healthy and pesticide free. The plants are growing beautifully (one has even been nicknamed the "Little Shop of Horrors" plant by my husband because it seems willing and able to take over - everything. I've seen many tiny toads (only about 1/2 inch long) hopping all around. While walking Mobley earlier, I saw a few different types of butterflies on the road (so, hopefully, they'll be in the garden soon). I think that even before I saw the (dare I mention it again?) snake, I either saw the world biggest bumblebee, or a hummingbird, right by the peonies, which was where my foot came within mere feet of the....snake.

So, all's well. Because now I know I have what it takes to protect myself, my family, perhaps the whole town - a good set of lungs, and I'm not afraid to use them!

On Perfection

2008-05-30T11:29:00.005-04:00

"There is within each of us the capacity to remember our goodness." Tara Brach

"Awakening Now" by Dana Folds

Why wait for your awakening?

Do you value your reasons for staying small

more than the light shining through the open door?

Forgive yourself,

Forgive yourself.

Now is the only time you have to be whole.

Now.

Now is the sole moment that exists to live in the light of your true nature.

Perfection is not a prerequisite for anything but pain.

Please, oh please, don't continue to believe

in your stories of deficiency and failure.

This is the day of your awakening.

Hmmm. It's rather paradoxical that I like this quote and this poem so much. I very strongly believe now that we all (or perhaps we all) are too hard on ourselves (and each other). I think that everyone I know is wonderful just the way they are. Perfect? Maybe not. But who cares? I used to think I had to be perfect and feeling so kept me locked in a box where I couldn't open to even the people closest to me and also kept me from trying anything I didn't think I could do well immediately. Eventually, this thinking really stunted my life. Now, I'm more willing to fail and either shrug my shoulders and move on or even laugh at myself. It's a relief.

So, where's the paradox? Here: I also believe that we hold ourselves to pretty low standards. We believe that humans are intrinsically flawed. We limit what we even expect of ourselves. I don't think we're even close to harnessing our powers.

Our bodies produce 100,000 chemical reactions in every cell of the body every second we're alive. We have approximately 70 to 100 trillion cells in our body. You can do the math, I can't. These are the processes that control everything we do: respiration, digestion, etc., etc. Everything. The pancreas regenerates almost all of its cells every single day. The liver has 66 functions (facts taken from "Evolve Your Brain: the Science of Changing Your Mind" by Joe Dispenza, D.C.). These facts are amazing. They show the miraculous powers that each of us has. We don't have to think to do these things, yet they are done by the body's intelligence. Neuroscientists now know that the brain is continually reorganizing itself throughout life (this is a very different view of the brain that we baby boomers grew up with - when we went through school it was believed that the brain was mostly hardwired). All of our thoughts create chemical reactions. All of those chemical reactions affect the body in some way. The brain does not even know the difference between an event happening in real time and event that is remembered or imagined. For example, if you remember a bad experience, your brain will create the same chemicals it did when the event actually occurred.

If we really harness our thoughts, I think we can affect how we think and live. Check out the yogis - some have been buried in boxes for days and have been able to survive by slowing down their bodily functions. Joe Dispenza has studied many people who have had spontaneous healings. He's found certain similarities in what they did after being diagnosed: in a nutshell, they spent countless hours envisioning themselves healthy. Which is not to blame those who don't do this - it's hard, hard work and as yet scientifically unproven so it takes a great belief in oneself that goes against society to follow this path. However, Joe feels that since some people do, in fact, have healings that befuddle their doctors, something is going on with those people and it's worth studying the effect to figure it out so that more of us can do it. And, if the mind can heal the body, the mind is also more amazing in other ways than we've given it credit for.

To sum up, we're fine the way we are. And I think that we could be more if we choose to be so. But, on any path we choose, we should give ourselves a break, love ourselves, love each other, relax and enjoy. Remember your goodness. Don't wait.

With love.

Golfing with Monkeys

2008-05-29T14:15:00.002-04:00

Before I get to monkey golf, here's a story for V. who liked my comment about home in the previous post (thanks, V!): An older woman goes to her travel agent and asks him to book her a trip to India". "Oy," he says, "such a long trip, why don't you just go to Florida like you usually do?" "No," the woman replies, "I want to see the guru." The travel agent complies and plans her trip. Along the way, which is long and arduous (long plane ride, followed by a long dusty train ride, a bus trip through the mountains, and more) she meets many people. All those she meets question her trip: it's such a long voyage and this particular guru only allows his visitors to say three words to him. "It's okay," she tells all who pass along this information. Finally, she's at the guru's cave, she's about to go in and meet with him. The guru's helper reminds her, "Just three words. You're only allowed to say three words to him." "It's okay," the woman says and into the cave she goes. When she gets inside, she looks at the guru and says, "Sheldon, come home."

I heard that story today on a Tara Brach (www.imcw.org) podcast although I've heard it before.

Here's a bit of history, also from a Tara's podcast ("Golfing with Monkeys"): after the British had taken over India, they longed for some recreation in their new colony. So they built some golf courses. However, the course in Calcutta was near a wildlife reserve. While the Brits were golfing, monkeys would come onto the course, pick up and move the balls that were in play. Of course, this annoyed the players mightily and they sought solutions to this problem. First, they erected fences around the course, but they found that no matter how high the fence, the monkeys could get over it. Then, they tried relocating the monkeys, but for every monkey they relocated, another appeared. Lastly, they tried distracting the monkeys, but there was nothing the monkeys enjoyed more than watching the humans go crazy when their little balls were disturbed. Finally, the British decided to issue new rules for the game of golf when played in Calcutta: you were obliged to play the ball wherever a monkey put it.

That's the game for me! And, frankly, that's the game for all of us, because that's the game of life. The monkeys are constantly picking up our balls and moving them around. We try to control the monkeys, but it's impossible. The only sane thing to do, the only thing, sane or not, that makes any sense at all, is to accept that the monkeys are going to move the balls and to play the balls wherever they put them.

Sometimes the monkeys throw the balls gently and sometimes they throw with force. Getting caught in a traffic jam is a gentle throw. Getting into a car accident is a harder throw. I'm sure you get the picture.

In any event, and not to ruin a good story, as I'm sure you've gotten it by now, I think that to live well one must play the ball wherever it's thrown. Jumping up and down and screaming at the monkeys won't stop them, nor will putting up fences, or the rest of it.

Enjoy the game.

Silent Retreat

2008-05-25T15:40:00.002-04:00

I first remember hearing of someone going on a silent retreat a few years ago. I was in Brown's , an upscale country gentleman/gentlewoman's clothing store in Chatham, NY. I was browsing, when a man, around sixty-five years old, with an armload of expensive flannel shirts and wool socks, asked the shopkeeper if she thought he had enough clothes for a week in the Adirondacks. As many words came rushing out of his mouth, he explained that a friend had talked him into doing a week-long silent retreat and that he was scared stiff of it and was gearing up. Now, I don't know why he needed new clothes to sit in silence for a week, but I suppose that shopping was a way for him to deal with his nervous energy. Which he had much of. I remember saying that a week of silence sounded heavenly. He didn't agree. I think we each thought the other fortunate - I thought him so for having the time for the retreat, he thought me so for not. After he left, the shop-keeper and I looked at each other and laughed. What chance did I think he'd have of being quiet for the week?, she asked. At the time, none (although now I think I'd be more open-minded). She agreed.

The next time I stumbled upon someone doing this practice was a couple of years later. I was visiting my brother and noticed an in-depth note for him, written by his wife. I inquired if she'd was away. "No," he replied, "She's upstairs doing a silent retreat." At the time, I found this odd: she's doing a retreat at home? She's silent, but can write? How's that really different than speaking?

The idea of silence appeals to me. It always has. I was a pretty quiet child. So quiet that my parents will say that at Open School night, even my elementary school teachers didn't know who I was (that's hard to believe, but I get their point). I've never been totally comfortable with the give and take of conversation. It happens too fast for me. It's often fine - I'm comfortable speaking with friends, family, and have even learned to have my say in groups, both large and small. But there's something so reactive about talk. The mindfulness I've developed over the past year flies right out the window when I'm speaking with other people. The cartoon "Zits" had a panel this week that illustrated what happens to my mindfulness in conversation. In the panel, Jeremy, a sixteen year old high school student sits down to take a final exam and his brain jumps out of his skull. That's me in conversation.

When I was in my early twenties, I worked at the Grand Canyon. I vividly remember a spot, along the Bright Angel trail, where I could sit on a ledge, far enough off the trail to be alone. I remember it being a mile or so down the trail and that was a mile both away from my life and into the earth. I'd only go there alone. It was my haven. It was quiet. It was cozy. I'd sit for an hour or two (or more?) and recharge. I always felt badly that I'd have to eventually leave and return to the rest of my life. I've always remembered that place as a perfect spot and my time spent in it as perfect time. The funny thing is, I went back to the Grand Canyon a few years ago. I walked the first couple of miles of the Bright Angel trail looking for that spot and couldn't find it. The Grand Canyon changes so slowly, that if that spot was there thirty years ago, it would have to be there now. In my mind's eye, I can even see the bend of the trail where it was. Maybe I missed it. Maybe I imagined it. It doesn't really matter: only the feeling of finding peace matters. The lesson for me for now, is that I was able to find peace through finding quiet time for myself.

This weekend I attempted a very brief silent retreat (at home!). My family went away for the day, I stayed home and decided that since I was home with only the dog, he probably wouldn't miss my chatter and this was the perfect chance to do this. I now understand doing a silent retreat without going to a retreat center: it's cheap, it's easy, there's no gas used, it's where I really am. I figured I'd have 13 hours of silence. Rule 1: I would break my silence if I ran into any neighbors when walking the dog. Rule 2: rule 1 was the only rule.

Other than not speaking, I went about my business. I tried to be mindful. I found that my mind spent a lot of time on really trivial stuff. Really, really trivial stuff. Embarrassingly so. This was not unlike when I first started meditation, and the rest of my class seemed to be dealing with "deep" and "heavy" insights about themselves. I learned that my thoughts are really pretty shallow. Is this good? Does it mean I'm not neurotic? Is it bad? Does it mean I'm not smart? I dunno. It just is what it is. I decided to go with the flow and just observe all my banal thoughts. On the one hand, it was pretty funny to turn down the noise and see that what came through the static was....useless! From time to time I tried to listen to my mantra instead of this drivel, but I was mostly looking for the experience however it came to me, accepting each moment as it was, mundane as it was.

So, the more thoughtful (I hope) observations from the day: I now understand why people go on longer silent retreats. I think that if the mind has a long enough time to listen to itself and empty all the goofy thoughts, it has a better chance of becoming still. I think the teachers that say that 95% or so of our thoughts are useless are totally correct (and in my case, that's a very conservative estimate - I'd say a good 99.99% of my thoughts that day were useless).

It was a nice day. I forgot and spoke to the dog a couple of times. He was forgiving and relieved (I think). I think he thought my quiet was a bit strange. Aside from that, I made it through eleven hours until I ran into my neighbors. I enjoyed the experience even though I didn't get any nice new flannel shirts out of the deal. Next time though, I'd like to do it for longer and that may take a trip to a retreat center.

From Mother Teresa

2008-05-05T13:18:00.005-04:00

People are often unreasonable,

illogical and self-centered;

forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you

of selfish, ulterior motives;

be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some

false friends and some true enemies;

succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank

people may cheat you;

be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight;

build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,

they may be jealous;

be happy anyway.

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow;

do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it

may never be enough;

give the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis,

it is between you and God;

it was never between you and them

anyway.

Written by Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

I love this so much, it's on my refrigerator so I can see it every day. Every day there's some challenge that this helps with.

Here's my attempt of a verse for a special friend:

If you try to open your students' minds,

Some will be afraid of what their children will do with

new knowledge.

Open their minds anyway.

Support the teachers you know. Especially the great ones. It takes a village to raise a child and we all know that villages are made of individuals of many different beliefs. I try to not be afraid, but I am afraid, very afraid of people who want to limit what children are taught to their own limited world views. No knowledge, no love, no acceptance, no peace. Know knowledge, know love, know acceptance, know peace.

If you can think of more verses for the Mother Theresa poem, please add them to comments.

Playing with Three Strings

2008-04-22T17:09:00.002-04:00

I hope it's okay to do this. I assume it is since so few (3? 4?) people read or have read my blog and I certainly am not making any money off it. Below is one of my favorite poems, it is by Rabbi Harold M. Schulweis. I hope you find it inspiring. BTW, this is a two post day! Yay, me!

Playing with Three Strings by Harold M. Schulweis

We have seen Yitzhak Perlman

Who walks the stage with braces on both legs,

On two crutches.

He takes his seat, unhinges the clasps of his legs,

Tucking one leg back, extending the other,

Laying down his crutches, placing the violin under his chin.

On one occasion one of his violin strings broke.

The audience grew silent but the violinist did not leave the stage.

He signaled the maestro, and the orchestra began its part.

The violinist played with power and intensity on only three strings.

With three strings, he modulated, changed and

Recomposed the piece in his head

He retuned the strings to get different sounds,

turned them upward and downward.

The audience screamed delight,

Applauded their appreciation.

Asked later how he had accomplished this feat,

The violinist answered

It is my task to make music with what remains.

A legacy mightier than a concert.

Make music with what remains.

Complete the song left for us to sing,

Transcend the loss,

Play it out with heart, soul, and might

With all remaining strength within us.

Radical Acceptance

2008-04-22T08:36:00.004-04:00

Every morning, as part of my meditation, I think about some of the things I plan to practice in the course of the day. Radical acceptance, which is part of mindfulness, is one of them.

The quick and dirty on mindfulness: it's being aware at each moment, of each moment. For example, mindfulness is when washing dishes, to be aware of washing dishes, thinking about the dish washing, rather than thinking about what you did before washing the dishes, what you're going to do after washing the dishes, or that dream trip to Bhutan you wish to take (or I wish to take). The point of mindfulness is that we really only ever have the present moment, so if you don't live in the here and now, you're missing your life. I'm beginning to understand that anything that isn't mindfulness is fantasy.

Radical acceptance takes this practice one step further. Not only do you stay present in your thoughts, but you accept the moment as it is. You ditch the, "I wish I weren't doing this" and the "I wish this wasn't happening" way of thinking. Why? Because this is what you're doing and this is happening. Like it or not, it's real. And it is all there is. So it's a kind of, "if you can't get out of it, get into it" kind of practice. Maybe I don't like washing dishes. Still, I wash them. How does wishing it were otherwise change the fact? It doesn't.

The natural response to this is to think that by accepting what is you're being passive and not looking for a way to change what needs changing. Not so. By focusing you're attention on the here and now and recognizing and accepting it for what it really is, you're actually more likely to be able to see and affect change when necessary. To stay with the dishwashing scenario: don't be present and accepting and you may do a poor job of it, take more time than necessary to get the job done. And here's the part I most love: you'll also miss the beautiful little soap bubbles that may randomly pop up off the sponge and float above the sink catching the light just so so they have miniature rainbows in their arcs, or the smell of the soap, the feel of the dishes. Really, there's wondrous stuff even in the most repetitive and seemingly mundane moments.

So, radically accepting washing dishes is easy. How about something harder? A sick family member perhaps? Really sick. Remembering when this person was healthy won't make them healthy again, won't ease their suffering or your own. Hoping they're better in the future won't do it either. But really being with them in the moment, will give them comfort when you're listening and responding to their needs. Really listening to the doctor will allow you to have all the information you need to figure out a course of action, should there be one. The sooner you can accept your lot in this, the sooner you can act and although this moment, right now, is what it is, that action that's borne from an acceptance of whatever the situation is can affect change.

One of my favorite Buddhist stories goes like this: a young woman was distraught: her baby son had died. She could not bear to be separated from his lifeless body. She carried it everywhere and was therefore unable to live her life. Finally, she went to the Buddha for help. She wanted her son back, alive. The Buddha promised to help, but only after she brings him a mustard seed from a family which has not suffered a loss. The woman went from door to door in her village. Of course, she could not find a family who had not suffered and eventually she gave up the search and accepted her son's death. The woman accepted her "now". In burying her son, she accepted that his life was in the past. Carrying his body around was carrying the past, hoping for a future that could not possibly be. All that ultimately made sense was to bury the boy's body and accept the truth of the present. This is human life. There's loss. There's bad stuff. That's the same for all of us.

So, that's acceptance. And now for the "radical" part of "radical acceptance". I think of this as the "no one ever said it was going to be easy" part of acceptance. I can easily accept when things go well. I can easily accept good times, happy moods, sunny days. Radical acceptance though is practicing accepting it all. Bad times, bad moods, storms. Even accepting when I can't accept and living with those moments, trying to be mindful through them, because really, this moment is all we have. All we have is what life gives us. It gives us good. It gives us bad. I even gives us great and horrible. But it all is all we got. So, each day, I try my best to radically accept it all.

BTW, I first heard of Radical Acceptance on a podcast given by Tara Brach, a clinical psychologist and Buddhist teacher. Her podcasts can be downloaded on iTunes. She also has a book titled, (yup, you guessed it!), "Radical Acceptance". And although I do radically accept that I've yet to figure out how to underline when using blogspot, if anyone out there knows how, kindly, pass on your wisdom, so I may mindfully change my future. Thanks.

Why I Read/Librarything

2008-04-02T07:58:00.003-04:00

Librarything.com is an online site where you can list your books. You can rate them, review them, find other people who've read them and see what else those folks have read. It's a free service for the first 200 books you list, and then $10 per year or $25 for life if you wish to list more. For a book-lover like me, it's crazy fun. I also love it because now that I have a virtual place to store my books, I don't feel the need to actually keep the books I love for fear I'll forget about them (I do) if I can't see them. I can keep my faves online, and request them from our public library system should I wish to reread them.

I started using librarything.com last week (to get to my list on it, see my sidebar) and have already entered over forty books. Those of us who love reading, love it for different reasons and love reading different things. I have two children, who when given a book recommendation, immediately ask, "Is it funny?" My other child goes in for teen romance. My husband gravitates toward contemporary American literary fiction. Looking at my list, I see a strong pattern, too. I'm looking for inspiration. I like reading about people who are living the best lives they can - not career-wise, or materially, but by being the best person they can be. But on reflection I notice, that these people and characters don't necessarily consciously make this a goal - it happens as they go about their life. For example, in Franz Wizner's "Honeymoon with My Brother", after Wizner loses his high-paying job and fiance right before his wedding, he goes on what was to be his honeymoon trip with his brother, rather than lose the money he'd already paid toward the trip. As he and his brother keep traveling, he realizes that he doesn't want to go back to his old life of high profile jobs and he and his brother end up traveling to 53 countries in two years, learning about themselves, each other, and how much of the world lives. Many of the books on my list are memoirs, but the fiction I love, such as Barbara Kingsolver's "The Poisonwood Bible" and Larry McMurtry's "Lonesome Dove" have characters such as Leah Price, who is so overwhelmed by American supermarkets after living in Africa and Gus McRae, lazy, eccentric and the best friend a person can have.

Which leads me to the last book I read: "Without a Map" by Meredith Hall. Hall got pregnant in 1965 at the age of sixteen. Shockingly (to me), without warning, prelude, or even a discussion, her mother upon learning of this, kicked Hall out of her house. She was allowed to live with her father and his wife for the duration of her pregnancy as long as she kept herself hidden from their neighbors and friends. She was forced to give her baby up for adoption. What I love about Hall's story, is that through it all, she remained an incredibly loving person, even forgiving her parents for their abandonment. In an amazingly touching chapter, Hall writes of meeting with her 84 year old father, who she has only seen three times in thirty-six years. He agrees to see her as long as she does not bring up the past. Although she still longs for him to apologize for the way he's treated her, she knows that this won't happen. Her agenda is that she wants to tell him that she loves him before he dies. Wow.

So, that's what I'm looking for when I open a book. Something I can strive for. Something that shows me what greatness is.

March Madness

2008-03-27T08:11:00.002-04:00

March: it's the new February. (My apologies to any college basketball fans out there - this one sentence is the only one in this post that uses word "basketball"). It's the end of March, winter is still in full blast here and I'm feeling the effects. I'm back to being most of the Seven Dwarfs all by myself: Sneezy, Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey, and even Bashful if you take into account how I've been ignoring the telephone and various people I should be calling for various reasons. Now, as a public service for those of you like me, who have to account for all seven of the dwarfs or totally fixate on thinking about them until you do, the others are Doc and Happy.

But, I don't want this to be a "woe is me/life stinks" post. After all, April starts in a mere five days. I already have four crocuses growing in the garden (not blooming, mind you, but their shoots are up). A few daffodils are even pushing their way through the soil. And I know the ground is thawing because Mobley, our lovable garden-killer (and garden-tiller) is digging again (why, with all the land we have, does he restrict his activities to digging where I planted flowers last year?) So, hopefully it will actually feel like spring soon and I'll be back on track.

Here's my latest idea for when I am: I am going to try to make even more food from scratch. I already do quite a bit but do rely on frozen pancakes for quick breakfasts, cake mixes for quick deserts, and take-out food from the Coop or the local Chinese hole-in-the-wall when I won't be home to cook dinner. I have three different motivations for this project: health, economy, and the environment. I've been making my own hummus for a few months now. It takes less than ten minutes to make using canned chick peas (including the time it takes to wash the blender) but it's fresher and cheaper than store-bought hummus. Also, when I make it myself, I use one less plastic container that will end up in a land-fill as soon as the hummus is eaten. So, I'm going to try to (loosely) track how much money I save, and maybe even how much plastic I save as well, from doing my own food preparation. The health issue is more intangible - but, at least for me, since I'm on a low-sodium diet, anything I can prepare myself, is undeniably healthier.

So, wish me luck. Although, I freely admit that no new changes will be made until the temperature outside is consistently above freezing!

The Flu

2008-03-18T07:43:00.006-04:00

My apologies to V, who says I always make her laugh. She may not find this post funny at all. I know when my kids were little, as two of hers are now, the constant onslaught of runny noses, sick tummies, and infected ears left me too tired from sleepless nights and the endless shopping for boxes of tissues to find anything funny about the usual winter maladies. And, I'm afraid that there's one pretty typical winter malady I've never found funny at all.

When I was in the first trimester of my pregnancy with my third child I got the flu. I was already beyond bone-tired before I got sick: in addition to dealing with morning sickness and the exhaustion of early pregnancy, I had a three year old and a just-barely two year old at home. What I most clearly remember from the days I was sick though, was lying in bed, praying to die. Every time I heard footsteps coming up the stairs I hoped it was my husband coming to tell me he was taking me to the hospital (I was too sick to ask him to do so - and in my addled state I couldn't even figure out if this was an option). At times, I wondered if, when he walked into the room, I wouldn't be able to respond at all and I would then find that I was indeed dead. As happens, my body killed the flu virus and I returned to my regular life. But, I'd learned something about myself that week: I'd always thought that should I get a horrible disease (cancer, perhaps), I'd fight tooth and nail for my life. After this I realized it was way more likely that should that happen, I'd roll over and die. I had no fight for the flu, what energy would I have for a longer, tougher battle?

I now vigilantly get a flu shot each year. This year, apparently, the strain of viruses in the vaccine does not match the virus being spread around. I woke up Sunday to find that my body felt like it had been run over by a steam roller and the left side of my head pounded as if a jackhammer was trying to bore a hole through it. I didn't have the energy to even walk downstairs. This was not good.

I had a very busy week planned. Monday was the day our new den furniture was to be delivered and installed, Shay had a violin lesson I didn't think he should miss as he's working on a piece for NYSSMA which has been coming along slowly and painfully, Kit had a voice lesson and she'd missed the past three weeks, I had a parents' organization meeting at the middle school that I needed to attend to recruit volunteers for the book fair next month. Tuesday is Shay's school concert and I had a doctor's appointment and lunch with a friend planned. Wednesday is Kit's school concert. There's precious little food in the house. I'm still not finished resetting the basement from last week's flood and once the new furniture is installed, there are computers, books, school supplies, and a couple thousand cd's (don't ask) to be shifted.

But, there are lessons in everything and the lessons of the flu of 2008 is this: it didn't matter that I spent two days in bed, running out of light reading, not accomplishing anything. I did manage to rally and get Shay to the violin lesson but his teacher didn't even listen to his NYSSMA piece. Hank took Kit to her voice lesson. At some point I'll get volunteers for the book fair. The concerts will go on and I'd been meaning to run down our stores of frozen and packaged food anyway. Hank took the kids to school, shopped for enough veggies for last night's dinner, and cooked it. The furniture will be delivered at some later date and I'll get the basement and den back in order. There's nothing like unexpectedly stepping out of your routine to realize just how unimportant most of the details of it are.

BTW, although there were moments on Sunday that I played with the idea that death might be preferable to having the flu, I was also able to remind myself (and I need to many, many times) that everything is temporary, everything passes - even the flu. And it is passing - I'm happy to report that the steamroller that so successfully pressed my body into my mattress on Sunday is gone and the little jackhammer wielder in my head that worked in tandem with it has gone, too. They've left behind little presents in the form of a cough and a runny nose, but I may not be tough enough to not be dragged down the flu, but I am tough enough for a garden-variety cold.

My family (and the rest of the world) survived without me - everything ran just fine for that brief moment I was put out of my daily life. Which is good to remember. I'm not saying I wouldn't be missed if I weren't here (I know I would be), but it helps to keep everything in perspective to know that life goes on. No matter what.

Final words: I just realized there is one family member who doesn't think that everything went well without me. Mobley, our goofy one-year old Chocolate Lab, has just informed that he's had way too much down-time during my illness. They way he let me know is this: first he was shoving his bright orange squeeky football in my leg (the same toy he squeeked in my face for hours on Sunday when I was too tired to either protest or play). I threw it a bit and then ignored him and he moved on. Mobley is much like my kids were when they were little: if he's too quiet, I know he's doing something he'd rather I not know about. I suddenly realized he was too quiet. Let me backtrack a bit here: a number of years ago, one of my husband's colleagues got a bull dog puppy. The puppy ate this man's couch. Not the whole thing, mind you, but a great big chunk of it. This was something I could never quite get until five minutes ago, when I went looking for the too-quiet Mobley, and found him, stretched out on the good couch (the best and most expensive piece of furniture in the house), with one of the back cushions in his mouth. He was chomping away so happily and defiantly that he didn't even stop when he saw me. Which tells me that I'm now totally over the flu, it's time to walk the dog before I have a basement, den, and living room to resurrect.

Flexibility or: The Vegan Police Take the Night Off

2008-03-07T10:45:00.002-05:00

Last night was our high school's Indoor Track Banquet (do we really call something held in the high school cafeteria a banquet? You bet we do!). I accompanied my son Harry, aka: The Vegan Cop. Harry's been keeping me on the straight and narrow for the past ten days: no cheating allowed. Vegan is vegan and no morsel of dairy, egg, or even honey (which some vegan's eat) is allowed to pass my lips. Harry zeal is personal: he'd like to be vegan, but I'm afraid that if you take pizza, mozzarella sticks, and ice cream out of his diet, his skinny frame would all but disappear (and as it is, he walks around hungry most days). He has his principles, but right now, they're just not strong enough to power him through being a vegetarian who actually eats vegetables (he's sure the portions of them that he ate as a toddler are still sufficient). So, he's protecting the animals of the world by making sure I eat nothing that comes from them.

However, Harry's in love with the garlic bread that's served at the banquet. I heard about it all week, with warnings that I must, must, must, grab a slice as soon as the parents are invited up to the buffet (parents usually get first dibs) because otherwise, the team would snatch it all up and I'd miss my chance. "Probably not vegan, Har," I informed him. He barely acknowleged the ethical dilemma this was throwing me into. He clearly was not worried about the cows the butter on it had come from. After all, this is the garlic bread against which all garlic breads are measured. A culinary masterpiece, mass produced and stored in a warming pan. I know when my role as a mother is to set aside my own priorities and go for it.

In all fairness, without Officer Harry's blessing, I'd have put aside the Vegan Experiment for the night anyway. I'd already decided that, for now at least, I'd be moderate in this and that if it came to not eating (or being a royal pain in the butt to others who are willing to feed me on occasion), I'd forego being a purist. I know that I can control what I eat when I'm home but that at times, when I'm out I'll relax about it.

I got on the buffet line (after almost everyone else as the parents were not given priority over the hungry teens this time and I decided that Harry would forgive me if I missed the bread because I didn't want to race to get it) and surveyed my choices: salad with spinach (I don't eat spinach for medical reasons), chicken with mushrooms (do I pick off the mushrooms? Nah, too chickeny and too self-serving), pasta (probably some cheese in the tomato sauce, but it's a go), roasted potatoes (maybe some butter, but possibly vegan), zucchini (most likely had butter on it, but this was my night to go wild), and Yes! the garlic bread was still there! A brownie and a bit of cake for desert (this is my chance! I can't waste it!) The food was okay. Frankly, the next time I "cheat" I hope it's with food that hasn't been in warming trays quite so long. And, I hope that next time I get a real honest-to-goodness brownie, it's really thick, gooey, chewy, and chocolaty because the one I had last night tasted like it could have been - - - vegan! (Nah, I know it wasn't, but it wasn't worth the cheat or the calories.) The cake was what makes us all eat too much sugar and hate to give up eggs and milk for - it was light, sweet, perfect (too bad there were no plates, forks, or napkins by that point in the night - although, for sure, none of the athletes and few of the parents seemed to care).

To top off the evening, I came home and decided "in for a nickel, in for a dime". To cap off my fall from vegan grace, I had two Girl Scout Samoa cookies.

And now, I'm ready to get back on the wagon. I've found I like eating a vegan diet. I realized last night that I don't miss the foods I used to eat and that I'm enjoying cooking differently. I enjoy the creativity of trying different combinations of vegetables, grains, and beans. I like the crunch of these foods. And I like knowing that I'm doing one more thing to "do no harm". The discipline of it is good, too - it's hard to mindlessly eat vegan, it's one more way to practice mindfulness. And I suspect, Officer Harry will be back walking his beat again today - letting this excon know that she may have been paroled for a few hours, but it's time to get back to pressing those "Vegan Foods This Way" road signs again. I'm not sorry about it one bit.

Scattered....

2008-03-03T10:24:00.004-05:00

....is what this post will be as that's how I'm feeling. I started a post on March 1 and was feeling great - another dreaded and dreadful February was over, the Vegan Experiment was going well, I'd realized that I've even had moments of sheer, spontaneous joy lately. And, then....

....(sounds of skidmarks in the background). Nothing major. Just "eh". March is very Februaryish (cold, gray, icy, dark, wet). The Vegan Experiment is going, but there are moments where I'd love a piece of good old American cheese, or to eat anything from a bakery without checking the ingredients My routine is feeling, well, .... routine.

And my mind's been boinging all over the place, and sometimes when it boings, it can get to thinking some pretty negative things, even mean-spirited, catty, and decidedly petty things. Not to mention nervous thoughts, which seem to be a specialty of my mind.

But...this is where my practice comes in. The things I "intend" for myself each day (said to myself at the end of my meditation) are to practice ahimsa (non-harming), satya (truth telling), mindfulness (being aware of each moment), radical acceptance (accepting each moment as it is), and to practice lovingkindness and compassion. So, I notice when I'm having a cranky, petty, mean-spirited thought. For example, a friend called today - he'd been unexpectedly hospitalized yesterday. His cat had surgery the day before and my friend asked me to go over to his house to feed and medicate his cat. Normally, I'd do this happily - I'd be glad to be in a position to be able to help. Today, I did it grumpily, wondering why my friend had waited so long to call. Now, I realize that was pretty nasty of me - obviously he had other things (such as his emergency surgery) on his mind. But, there it is. Bad news: bad thoughts on my part. Good news: I noticed Better news, I took care of his cat. Other good news: I'm not going to beat myself up all day over my bad thoughts. That's what minds do: they jump around like monkeys in the jungle, first here, then there, good thoughts, bad thoughts. I'm sure I'm not the only person around who'd rather that even their best friend not know everything going on in her mind! The idea is to notice wherethe mind goes and then....

Deal with it. Learn to control it when it needs controlling. So, I didn't let my grumpiness get in the way of my doing the right thing. And I'm not going to dwell on why my friend didn't call earlier so I could have done this chore at my convenience (except for maybe the time it took to write that). Another example, my not-so-good friend Fear, who walked side-by-side and step-by-step with me for so long. He's back. He's not hanging around as much as he did until last year, but he's been dropping by at odd moments lately. This is how I deal with him: as soon as he shows up (and I'm now very good at noticing him as soon as he does so), I say to myself, "Inner Dweller, I humbly and lovingly sacrifice my fear to you. Please burn it in your eternal flame. Send it back to the origin from which it came. Thank you but I no longer need it nor want it." This is the process that my Yoga teacher, Leonard, taught me and it works. I don't think the actual words matter. It's a way of acknowledging what's going on and that I don't wish to continue it. I used to have to do this over and over (and over) to deal with a specific fear, now I can usually dispatch with fearful thoughts after only a few repeats (if even that many).

The Vegan Experiment (see, I warned you I'm all over the place!) is still operational. I think today may be the 11th day. I found out (the hard way, of course) that it's a bad, bad thing to run out of fresh food if you're vegan. Over the weekend, I ran out of fresh vegetables and much else I'd need to cook good meals. Dinner on Saturday was a frozen veggie burger (that had probably been in the freezer than longer than I'd care to know) on a white bread hamburger roll (ditto) and frozen french fries. Yuck! I almost never eat this way (thank goodness ketchup is vegan)! I also discovered that Pillsbury frosting is vegan (although it may not actually count as food). I got hungry enough and desperate enough for sweets to eat some (which proves that health concerns are not my main motivation for eating vegan although you'd think I'd try to eat healthfully if I'm already being so careful about what I'm eating). After the Saturday fiasco, I was at the food coop when it opened on Sunday. I loaded my shopping cart with good, healthy vegan ingredients and food (including carob dipped rice cakes and dairy-free chocolate chips). Later on Sunday, I went to another healthy foods store (It's Only Natural in Stuyvesant Plaza), where I found a vegan black and white cookie (my all time favorite). Although the vegan cookie was not quite up to NYC's Zaro's standards (that is quite simply, the best cookie in the world), compared to processed frosting in a can, it was wonderful.

And now, to return to joy. At times lately, although not in the last few days, I experience joy. Not the, "Oh my goodness, I just gave birth to this beautiful, healthy baby" kind or the, "I just won the lottery kind." The spontaneous kind. Where suddenly everything is perfect (even though it's not). The problems of the world, myself, whatever problems my friends and family have, it's all still there but, somehow, there's still a feeling of being swaddled by perfection. I believe some call this bliss, or perhaps grace. Whatever. I'll take it whenever it comes. Gladly. Gratefully.

And now I'm off: 2:05 p.m. - it's time to get back to the routine and start chauffeuring kids around.

Namaste.

The Vegan Experiment

2008-02-26T12:37:00.005-05:00

I finally got tired of thinking of myself as a vegan-wannabe. I realized that, like so much else, if I want to do it, the time is now. So, today I'm on day three of my vegan experiment. I'm going to do this for seven days and then decide whether or not to continue. I decided to try this for seven days after reading that approach on a vegan website (sorry, I don't have the link because I was surfing a lot of vegan websites last week and didn't write them down). The idea of the trial period is that it's hard to give up so many foods forever: like giving up an addiction, it's easier to think about it "one day at a time". Also, I am going away for a weekend next month, to a wedding, and it may be pretty hard to hold to this on the road, especially since I won't have the luxury of choosing where to eat.

Why vegan? I see this as part of my ahimsa (do no harm) practice.

I've been vegetarian since last summer. My main motivation (besides Kit) was ecological: growing plant foods uses less energy, land, and other resources than growing livestock. Another reason was that, in this day and age, it's more and more difficult to know where our food is coming from and, if it's animal, how those animals are being treated throughout their lifetimes and at the time of their death. I also heard Gwen Bell, on her podcast "Zen is Stupid" discuss the concept that animal meat may contain the emotions, or some bad chemicals from the emotions of the animals it came from and by eating the animal, you're ingesting the emotion (or chemical). This initially struck me as way out there, but after I sat with it for a while, it started to make sense. Emotions release hormones and other chemicals into the bloodstream. Wouldn't a scared chicken, for example, (or an angry one, if it had been debeaked) release some sort of chemicals into its body from those negative emotions? What would the lingering result be?

So, I've been veg, but eating dairy and eggs. In most cases, I still didn't know how the animals from whom I was getting the dairy and eggs were being treated. I always bought cage-free eggs, but what does that mean exactly? So they're not in cages all day - I've read that that doesn't necessarily mean their out in the sunshine, pecking for grubs and doing what a chicken naturally does. And what about the cows I was getting milk, cheese, and yogurt from? I had no idea how they were being treated. And, again, even without that, it comes back to the land...dairy cows are no better environmentally than beef cows. We now have a huge chicken population to feed our huge human population. Acre for acre, plant food feeds more of us.

So far, it's been easy being vegan - but I've been home. I was already pretty well set-up for this in that I was already vegetarian, so I'm used to cooking with tofu, grains, and beans. I already drink soy milk and eat soy yogurt. The only challenge has been reading the (sometimes too-small for my middle-aged eyes) ingredients on bread packages and the like. But, again I'm lucky, my favorite breads, French Meadow Bakery Women's Bread, Richard Bourdin Spelt Raisin, and Heidelberg Baking Company Oat Bran, are all vegan.

I've lost two pounds already. That wasn't my motivation - but losing weight is one of my goals, so that's good news. I've been eating very well: a peanut butter and banana sandwich for breakfast, a salad with either nuts and dried cherries or chickpea loaf (okay, that will not be repeated - the chick pea loaf is great, but not in the salad!) for lunch, and any of my usual veggie meals for dinner (last night's was the chickpea loaf, roasted vegetables, and grapefruit). Sunday night, Hank made pesto (dairy-free) and vegetable pizza (yum!) My energy is about what it usually is. My mood is great: I'm doing what I meant to do, I'm following my heart and that's always a good recipe to follow.

So, whattdya think? Any vegans out there with advice? Stories? Recipes?

An Invitation

2008-02-20T12:45:00.002-05:00

Fun as it is for me to write about me, me, me, I realize that you, my gentle reader, may be getting a bit bored by this time. Therefore, I invite you to help me turn this blog into a dialog. I'm going to try to get back on track and write about what's helped me transform myself from who I was last year (bored, boring, cranky, lazy) to the person I am today (no labels here - I'm a work in progress).

So, what are you working on in your life and what helps you achieve it? Did you have an experience that altered your life radically, or inspired you to change your life? Do you have a practice to recommend? What are the dreams you're working on achieving?

I'm all ears!

Vibes

2008-02-12T20:08:00.001-05:00

Here's a true confession: for years I thought the town I live in was amazingly unfriendly. Too many times, I'd smile at someone whose child was on one of my kid's teams, or even had been in their class and I'd get a stony look back. "Hello"'s in similar situations were greeted with looks of disdain. It used to make me want to scream. My husband thought we hadn't lived here long enough to be accepted. I could never quite figure out if it was the culture of the town or something about me.

I've dealt with the frustration I felt from this in many different ways over the years. For a long time, I conformed: no smiles or hellos from me unless I got one first. Then I tried being super-friendly: I even tried starting conversations with some of the people who had pointedly ignored me.

Here's another true confession: none of this was easy for me. I've been shy for most of my life. As a child, it was hard for me to talk to my mother, let alone strangers. Most of my teachers in elementary school couldn't tell my parents anything about me except my grades because I did everything I could to avoid being noticed. In high school, my parents wanted to send me to a small private school, with classes of only five students. I thought this was the worst idea I'd ever heard: how would I hide in such a small group? Which is a long way of saying that all this town-rejection was tough on me. I finally accepted that this seemed to be the predominant culture here. I decided that I could say hello and smile when I wished. I stopped caring when I got no response.

Then, last year, a funny thing happened. People started smiling at me. They'd even say, "Hello." Last week, the woman parked next to me at the supermarket, started telling me about a dog in the car parked next to her (he looked ridiculous with a leaf stuck to his face). It took me a minute to realize there was no one standing behind me and she was indeed speaking to me. Fairly often now, someone here who I don't actually know, finds a story to tell me. A couple of days ago, our mail carrier, who hadn't driven down our drive since our old wonderful, but somewhat crazed, former dog barked his darn fool head off at him, came down the drive to bring me the mail and chatted with me about his new exercise routine and dogs.

I'd like to say that my rising above my shyness and being friendly initiated the change in my neighbors but while that may be part of what's happening, it isn't the whole story. True, once I acted consistently more friendly, more people were friendly back to me. But now, other people are approaching me first. People I've never seen before. This began after I started meditating. I believe I'm radiating a more peaceful, open vibe, and people are responding to it.

Darn!

2008-02-12T11:01:00.000-05:00

I just found out that what I'm trying to do here, has already been done. And much better than this. Darn. I'm going to keep this blog going (really, I didn't think I was the only one using a blog for introspection and personal development along a somewhat Zennish path), but it was a bit of a shock to find another so soon. And one that's so polished and professional.

But.....I always used to think that if I didn't get something right immediately, if I didn't show world-stopping creativity or genius, then I should pack it all in and move on (always to the next thing that then wouldn't live up to my expectations either). So, I'm sticking with it now (and I'm sticking with me now), through thick and thin, boring posts, simple design, and who knows?, maybe I'll actually hang in there long enough to learn a thing or two.

But, for now, if you really want to see what I'm trying to do here, your best bet is to go to www.zenhabits.net. I'll be hanging out there some myself.

On Busyness/On Homemaking

2008-02-07T19:54:00.000-05:00

I'm not going to rant here about simplifying my life. Lord knows I've done that for enough years of my life. And it's as messy/busy as ever.

But...It's 8:00 p.m., I've been awake and busy now since 5:40 a.m. That's....14 hours and 20 minutes. And I've....meditated, made breakfast for 4 and lunch for 4, dinner for 5, vacuumed and cleaned the basement, walked the dog, worked-out, did 3 or 4 laundries, read and sent numerous emails, made a few phone calls, took a few phone calls, met with our painter, took the kids to school, picked up the kids from school, took one kid to a music lesson, helped another with homework, etc., etc., and you'd think it would have made a dent, but the to-do list is as long as ever.

I'm sorry. I'm whining. I know: this is life. I know: the to-do list ends when I die and I'm not ready for that to happen. However, today I realized that this might be one reason I spent so many years procrastinating: nothing ever gets to done, because nothing ever is done. It's disappointing. Like riding a stationary bicycle: you spin the wheels but never go anywhere. We make a mess everyday. We sleep in the bed every night, so there's always a bed to be made in the morning and linens to wash. We wear clothes that get dirty and then have to be cleaned. We get hungry and need food every day, which has to be shopped for, stored, cooked, cleaned-up after. It's a cycle of doing just like the earth turns every day and cycles around the sun every year.

Hmm, so maybe it's time to think that it's wonderful that I have a house to clean over and over and over again, dishes to wash again and again because I'm fortunate to have food to put on the dishes, clothes to clean and even a washer and dryer to use when I clean them! I had a friend years ago who was shocked that I found this taking care of life stuff mind-bogglingly boring. He thought of it as a terrific way to spend time because it kept him alive. Oh. I think I get it now and it only took me twenty some-odd years. (Some-odd, indeed!)

So, if you want to know what I'm doing tomorrow, my to-do list says, "More of the same." And that's okay with me.

BTW

2008-02-05T12:39:00.000-05:00

Looking at my blog (which I spend way too much time doing), I realize that reading it may give one the impression I'm Buddhist. I'm not. Neither am I a yogi or anything else. As I adorably told a neighbor when I was about three (just ask my mother, she's the one I got the story from and decades of kudos for being so adorable), when asked if I were Jewish or Christian, I replied, "I not either, I just a little girl." And although I was raised Jewish and am that culturally (more or less), and I enjoy reading about the practice of Zen Buddhism, listening to Zen podcasts, practicing yoga and meditating, I prefer not to define myself or throw my lot in with any "isms".

No knock on those that do. But I'm still looking for my way and there are so many choices out there that I hate to limit myself. I reserve the right to change my mind at any time (at which point, I hope Mom still finds me adorable).

Just thought you should know.

One More Thing

2008-02-04T06:26:00.001-05:00

I realized this morning (as I meditated) that the one thing I want above all else is to know what I'm supposed to do to make the world a better place. I've dabbled in a number of community service/social actions projects, but I never got the feeling that, "This is what I'm meant to do." It always felt like I was doing someone else's work, even when it was a project I was in charge of.

So, I'm putting it out there: to my inner dweller, the universe, whatever you call it, that when what I'm meant to do is revealed to me, I'll do it.

At this point, I have no idea what "it" may be. I don't expect to find out next week or next month, but I do expect that with my kids getting older and needing me less, my finding this out will correspond with them heading off to college.

One last thing: a bit of a prediction on my part. I wouldn't be surprised if "it" has something to do with India. I've never been to India, but it's danced around the periphery of my consciousness since I was a kid. We'll see.

13 Good Words

2008-02-02T20:34:00.000-05:00

"Perhaps the only limits to the human mind are those we believe in" Harman Ellis

The above thirteen words sum up what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to not limit my mind so as to not limit myself and then to see where I end up.

We put limits on our minds every day by accepting our own and others definitions and limitations of us. We leave greatness for either someone else or God. What would the world be like if we each really, really set about being our truly best selves, with no limits or excuses? What would that even mean to be our best selves? Would we recognize ourselves?

Every time I say or think something limiting about myself, I've actually done the limiting. If I think I can't remember names when I meet new people, I won't. Lately, I've been thinking I can remember, and I do. sThat may be a pretty inconsequential example, but I think it makes the point.

Try this one on for size: how many times have you been nasty to someone and felt somewhat justified because you were tired, hungry, stressed? Imagine dealing with that person from a point of view of no excuses for yourself. Would you still bite their head off?

At the class I took with Joe Dispenza, one of the first things he had us do was to introduce ourselves to the people we were sitting next to and to tell those people that we were geniuses. Nervous laughter broke out around the room. No one did it. He told us to do it again and we all waited for his signal to start before more nervous laughter and we complied. And this was even though Dr. Joe defines a genius as a person who can change himself which seems like a pretty easy thing to do and not the usual definition which would be something like a person of extremely high intelligence. Using Dr. Joe's definition, anyone who tries to do so can be a genius. By the typical definition, at this point only a few people are geniuses (but, maybe if everyone lived intentionally and tried to have a very high intelligence, everyone could be so). I don't know. I'm speculating. But even using Dr. Joe's definition, we're not comfortable being geniuses. Striving for that level of greatness feels wrong to most of us. We don't think we can attain it and we don't think we deserve it. And, we may even be afraid that being a genius entails greater responsibility. Instead of thinking we're all capable of it, we're afraid that others will think we're too full of ourselves if we have such lofty goals.

However, just walking this earth, having this chance at life, is such a huge gift, that I think we each owe it to ourselves, each other, and the world to make ourselves our best selves so that we can live our best lives and see where that leads us. I suspect it couldn't possibly lead us anyplace else than to having a much, much better world for all of us.

It's interesting. I just reread the last paragraph. In my little, fledgling practice, I keep coming back to this idea of being a good person: compassionate to all animate things and the world. Each day, during my meditation, I go through what I want, and as I meditate on them, they either crystallize on how they would lead to my living a more compassionate life or they fall away. For example, my desire to write crystallizes into that it's a way to become more creative, and if I'm more creative, I can think more creatively on how to be compassionate as I go about my day and may lead to finding a "bigger" project that would help the world. My desire to get our house in order is that it would make my family's life more pleasant and also simplify my life leaving me time that could be geared to helping the world. And the desire for a part-time job to just earn some money has fallen away.

The spiritual leaders of all traditions, throughout time all saw this (compassion) as central to their teachings (at least I know of none who taught otherwise). I really am trying to go within and strip away what I've been conditioned to believe. So, have I not been able to strip away my conditioning yet and am still echoing the ideas of the people around me? Or, do I too just happen to believe this? And if so, where did this belief come from? (Whoa! That's a big question - where do our ideas come from?) Is this a common belief that's hardwired into us all? Is there a universal consciousness that we tap into and learn this from?

Phew! I'm off to sit on the cushion. Usually, that's before coffee and certainly before philosophizing! Somehow, I think it's going to be an interesting session.....

YAY!!!!

2008-02-02T20:18:00.000-05:00

A big shout-out to Kit and Veronica for reading my blog!!!!!

Wow! Thanks guys, I love you!

You were even kind enough not to comment on my typos

(especially kind since you're both big writing buffs!)

Kind of ironic that a student and a teacher read my report card,

but that's life.

Report Card #1

2008-01-31T21:01:00.000-05:00

Being a former student (duh), public school teacher, and homeschooling mom, it struck me today, that I should check in with my "To Do" list from time to time and see how I'm doing. Since it's the end of the month, it seems like a good time for the first check-in. Here goes:

Figure out what I'd like to do with my life (okay, the rest of my life): lncomplete

Lose 15 pounds: 0 (as in that's how many I've lost. oh well.)

Exercise daily: A+ (yes, this is my report card and I can go from number grades to letter grades as I see fit - no pun intended.) I've worked out daily and increased my workout! Yay for me.

Be vegan: Unstarted.

Get through winter without feeling like a crazy rag doll before it's over: A+ I don't feel crazy at all
although on a couple very cold days, I felt very tired. Tired is okay. Crazy is not.

Travel to India: Hmm, what grade to assign myself? I didn't travel to India, but I am reading "Holy
Cow" which is a memoir by an Australian woman who lived in India. Does that count for anything? A "C" maybe?

Work at an orphanage in India: See above

Travel to the Himalayas: Yikes! If it's too cold for me here, what would I do in the Himalayas
in January?

Develop a craft to sell: F, didn't even give it a thought.

Write: A, for writing in my blog!

Publish my writing: As I think Kit may be the only person besides me to look at my blog and I did
no writing on the story I'd like to make into a Young Adult novel, I think.... nah, let's be
honest, no progress here, a 0.

Learn to sing so that people don't cover their ears or ask me to stop: I don't cover my ears or ask
myself to stop, so I give myself a "B".

Be able to walk into a party where I know no one, or close to that, and not feel shy: An "A" for my
weekend at Kripalu, which is sort of a party for yogis, for walking into dinner on Friday night
alone and walking out with two new friends!

Stay calm: A! I did good!

Be more loving: A! I did good with this one, too!

Help the world: B! Good progress on the environmental front: bought organic, shade-grown, fair-
trade coffee, started bringing my own cup to Starbucks so I don't have to use a disposable cup, am washing clothes in cold water now, bringing my own bags to the grocery and other stores, didn't take plastic spoons at Panera when I got take-out soup, and I am buying more organics and post-consumer recycled products.

Stop procrastinating: A+ Signed contract to get the den redone, called an electrician the day after the kitchen light broke, etc., etc.!!!!!

Sky dive: In January? In upstate New York? Even I am never that crazy in the winter!!!

Eat healthfully: B. Pretty good. Still eating too much and having some desserts (which is why I
didn't lose any weight. But, I ate good breakfasts. Can still drink more (water, that is!)

Not a bad report card. Not as good as my kids' school report cards, but at least I'll never have to send mine out to a college admissions officer!

Satya

2008-01-29T14:40:00.000-05:00

Satya is Sanskrit for "truthfulness". And it's another guiding principle of Yoga. I know I've already written that "ahimsa" or "do no harm" is THE guiding principle of Yoga. Satya really is part of "do no harm", but just as theTen Commandments are all followed if you follow the golden rule (as far as I know - please correct me if I'm wrong), so, too with Yoga, all the precepts are contained within ahimsa. But, it seems we humans need things pretty clearly spelled out in order for us to get it halfway close to right.

When we were studying satya, Leonard, my Yoga teacher, gave my class an assignment. We were to pick one day, any day in the upcoming week and be honest - totally, completely honest for a full 24 hours (minus sleep-time, which frankly, turned out to be a good thing). Being the gung-ho student I am, and a person who sees herself as fundamentally honest, I decided that this would be easy (certainly easier than practicing ahimsa for a full day, right?) and I would do my 24 hours starting the very next morning.

An aside here for definitions: complete honesty means being honest to yourself and others. It means not telling those convenient little social white lies ("Oh, I'd love to but I'll be washing my hair that night" I had a high school friend who used this any time she didn't think the planned activity was interesting enough.)

The next morning, I awoke ready to do my homework. I had a doctor's appointment the next week and for a variety of reasons, I wanted to cancel it (notice the word "wanted"). As I'd determined that it would not be practicing ahimsa to cancel too close to the appointment (because I'd be doing the doctor harm as then he may not be able to fill the time slot), I'd decided, while still drinking my morning coffee, to leave a message on my doctor's answering machine that morning. "Hi, " I said, "This is Madelyn. I have an appointment next Tuesday at 11:00 and I'm afraid I won't be able to make it. I'll call back to reschedule." First of all, in the spirit of satya, I no longer remember what day and time the actual appointment was. I wrote the previous sentence, which is in essence true, as an example. Secondly, when I hung up and turned to my husband, quite proud of myself for taking care of this little detail, Hank looked at me disapprovingly, slowly shaking his head. "What?" I asked (yes, this is a direct quote). "That was a lie," said he. "You said you couldn't make it to the appointment. The truth is you don't want to make it to the appointment." "Crap," I replied (to the best of my recollection). I was about five minutes in to my 24 hours of truthfulness, and practically the very first thing I said was a lie. Hank counseled that I just start anew which was what I did.

I realized pretty quickly that the way to stay honest was to neither speak nor think. As neither of those options was fitting in to my day, I felt pretty lucky to make it through the next few hours honestly. Then, a friend called. She wanted me to attend a meeting that afternoon. I'd known of the meeting, but had never planned on going. Yet, I waffled - I didn't come right out and say, "Hey, I have no intention of going to the meeting - it'll screw up my whole afternoon, I really don't care about it, and the last time I went it was a total waste of my time." Nope, I waffled, I listened to all her reasons on why I should go and advance her agenda. Interestingly, as she spoke, I heard her but also had a rather lenghty debate going on inside my head. For a while she and I almost had me convinced that I should go, but then there was a small part of my brain that still whined, "I don't want to go." And a stern part of my brain asked, "Are you acting selfishly here?" Finally (phew!) and fortunately before the conversation ended I realized I wasn't going to the meeting, that I wasn't being selfish, that just as she didn't want to advance her agenda because it really had nothing to do with her, neither did I want to advance it as it had nothing to do with me. Before our conversation ended, I was able to say to her, quite honestly, "No, I'm not going to the meeting, and I think if anyone is concerned about this issue, they should be the ones speaking to it." Ahh, it felt great. I realized an important thing about the truth (okay, I'll admit it - it may be an obvious truth, but I got the lesson clearly that day): sometimes it takes a while to figure out what the truth of a situation is and you can't speak the truth until you know the truth.

After that, it got easier. We usually don't speak (or think) the truth out of fear. Fear of not being liked/loved/respected, etc., fear of getting in trouble, or fear of how things may change if the truth is out there.

But the truth is freeing. Even the little inconsequential truths now seem to me to build a strong structure for my life. When I'm speaking the truth, I can see it more easily. And visa versa.

I did that homework assignment about four months ago and for a long time afterwards, I felt like I was easily being truthful. My biggest fear was that without a certain amount of embellishment, my stories would be flat. But I found that if I spoke with passion, that was enough. Now, I feel I need a bit of a tune-up. My nose isn't about to grow long from my lies, but I've noticed I'm not paying the attention I was to details when I was first practicing satya.

BTW, the next time I changed a doctor's appointment, I called and simply said, "I'd like to switch my appointment but I'll keep this time if my changing it will cause a problem for the doctor." In response, the receptionist said, "Madelyn, you're giving us plenty of time to fill the slot. Don't worry about it, We have a cancellation policy so people can change their appointments." Oh.

What I Do

2008-01-28T12:52:00.002-05:00

The process I'm using to change myself and my life has been developing over the past nine months. It just struck me that that's how long it takes to make a baby. And just as an embryo is changing all that time, so do I. So, I'm an infant in this new life I'm creating for myself. Wow! I love that!

Last year, just when I needed it, I stumbled upon Elizabeth's Gilbert's charming, wise, and inspirational book Eat, Pray, Love which is a memoir of Gilbert's year traveling to Italy, India, and Indonesia to rebuild her life after divorce. After reading the book, I realized that there were so many things I wanted to do (including figuring out what I wanted to do) but that if I didn't start soon, I'd lose my chance.

Fortunately again, I came upon a newsletter from the American Meditation Institute (www.americanmeditation.org). Meditation was one of those things I'd always meant to do. The meditation taught at AMI (by the wonderful Leonard Perlmutter), is based on yoga, which I'd only done sporadically in my life, even though I enjoyed it. AMI is practically in my backyard. I wasn't looking for signs, but it did sort of seem that this was one ("Proceed at Maximum Speed"). That this was five minutes from home eliminated many of my prior excuses ("ooh, I hate driving in the dark on the highway" whine, whine, whine).

I took Leonard's six week meditation class last summer and a shorter class with him in the fall on Patanjali's yamas and niyamas (practices for living a right life).

I now follow a daily meditation practice: about twenty minutes each morning which includes time where I focus on my breath (which isn't what Leonard teaches for a full meditation, but hey, it's my practice so I get to do what works for me), followed by Dr. Joe's intention work (more on this to come) and reflections on what I'm grateful for, some wishes for peace, and more intentions on how I want to conduct my day (not just my to-do list of tasks, but a to-do list of behaviors). It's a lot for twenty minutes, but I'm waking up at 5:45 a.m. to do this before the kids get up at 6:10, and this is the earliest I've ever consistently woken up in my life. I'd like to say I'll soon be getting up at 4:00 am to do a couple hours of practice, but there's not strong enough coffee out there for that.

At night, I again meditate on my breath and reflect on whether or not I was who I wanted to be and whether or not I lived as I intended to during the day. It's sort of a daily report card.

And, of course, since you really can't change yourself without paying attention to what you're doing in the course of the day (or, if you can, I can't), I try to be mindful as my day goes on about what I'm doing, saying, thinking, and feeling. It's a tall order. As any meditator will tell you, our minds have a mind of their own, they like to go hither and yon without so many darn rules. But it's a very exciting way to live. It may not be jumping out of an airplane, but there's excitement just the same. Living this way means that tomorrow doesn't have to be just like today because I don't have to be just like I am today tomorrow.

Time Flies

2008-01-28T11:38:00.000-05:00

It's been a week since I've been back from my first ever retreat, my first ever weekend away just for me and with a friend in the twenty years that I've been married. I went to the Kripalu Yoga Center in West Stockbridge, MA and it was AWESOME. I took a weekend class with Dr. Joe Dispenza (http://www.drjoedispenza.com), who is a chiropractor, but who also has spent years educating himself about the workings of the brain and also studying people who have had spontaneous healings. Dr. Joe, as he's often called, has a method for transforming one's life into whatever one wishes it to be. It's modelled around taking advantage of the brain's neuroplasticity and on the theory of quantum physics.

I've been practicing Dr. Joe's method since last weekand the early results are quite good. I have been more productive this past week, definitely calmer and amazingly happy! I've also increased my workout time on the treadmill from twenty to thirty minutes, upping the speed to four m.p.h., and have worked out daily this week. So, I'm in a good place to achieve at least some of those goals I laid out for myself!

The List

2008-01-16T14:03:00.000-05:00

So, what would I like to accomplish?

In no particular order:

Figure out what I'd like to do with my life (okay, the rest of my life)

Lose 15 pounds

Exercise daily

Be vegan

Get through winter without feeling like a crazy rag doll before it's over

Travel to India

Work at an orphanage in India

Travel to the Himalayas

Develop a craft to sell

Write

Publish my writing

Learn to sing so that people don't cover their ears or ask me to stop

Be able to walk into a party where I know no one, or close to that, and not feel shy

Stay calm

Be more loving

Help the world

Stop procrastinating

Sky dive (?????- do I really mean this?)

Eat healthfully

The Experiment

2008-01-16T13:20:00.000-05:00

In a nutshell: to make my life (and who I am in it) what I want it to be.

I'm not complaining, mind you - I really have nothing to complain about and much that I'm grateful for.

I live a privileged life.

And I realize that for the most part, I am living the life I've wished for.

Which is very cool.

And supports the experiment.

The hypothesis of the experiment is that I can "intend" my life.

Of course, we do this all the time. Let's say, you intend to become a teacher. You go to college and get a teaching degree. You student teach. You apply for teaching jobs. Voila! You're a teacher.

Phew! That was easy. But other things aren't so easy. How many of us walk around repeatedly doing things we wish we didn't (eating too much, snapping at poor unsuspecting family member, etc., etc.) or don't do the things we mean to do (exercise more, write in our blogs, etc., etc.) So, I've got the easy ones down, now it's time to tackle the tough ones. (Or, maybe it's better to keep the judgement out of it, and say I've gotten some of it down, so now it's time to work toward others.)

I got started on this by watching the movie "What the Bleep do we Know" (http://www.whatthebleep,com). Which lead to my reading books about intention (and listening to podcasts). Eventually, I'll write about these. For now, I'm outta here.

Ahimsa

2008-01-09T20:15:00.000-05:00

Sounds like a sneeze, doesn't it?

It's Sanskrit (I believe).

In any event, it means "do no harm" and it's the guiding principle of yoga.

Sounds simple, but you can really build a pretty good life around trying to live it.

You can spend all day, every day doing it.

And you'll always have to realize that all you can do is strive for it, but never totally attain it.

And that's okay. 'Cause life is messy. And life is a process - there's no place to get to, only a path.

I started studying yoga last year. I'm not talking about doing yoga, you know, the yoga everyone thinks of when they think of yoga (the poses). I'm talking about yoga philosopy. Which is way cool.

So, Leonard, my teacher right off suggests we practice ahimsa, it not being a sneeze, but like I said, yoga's guiding principle (kind of like the one commandment). This was in the spring and I was all fired up to build a wonderful, lush, colorful flower garden (how do I know that spring is the season of hope? Because for each of the eighteen springs I've lived in this house I've been fired up to build a wonderful, lush, colorful flower garden and each year my garden is.....a dud). So, gardening seems like a good way to practice "do no harm". Because growing things, nurturing life is the opposite of harm, right? However, I start coming out in the morning to watch my fledgling plants grow and instead of thin, bright green shoots and tiny buds, I'm finding big, fat, juicy slugs, lots and lots of big, fat, juicy slugs all over the place. On the grass, on the walkway, on the driveway, in the flower beds! AARRGGHH!!!!! And if it isn't enough that they're eating my garden before it even has a chance to grow, they're leaving trails of slime all over in their wake!

In my pre-yoga days, I'd put out small plastic containers filled with beer, the slugs would crawl into them and drink themselves to death - or drown, I never knew for sure. I used to tell Kit that the slugs just liked to drink the beer and went to sleep from it, because she was a baby yogi and always hated the idea of any creature, no matter how grotesque, being killed. I felt fairly much the same - except for slugs, which I figured didn't count because of their really gross slime, ugly otherworldliness, and that they ate what little bit of garden I managed to coax out of my Rensselaer county clay. But, now...hmm, killing slugs....do no harm....what would the slugs have to say about that? Clearly that I was harming them.

So, I grabbed a shovel, each and every morning, I picked up dozens of slugs, carried them into the woods and knew the next morning that I was carrying the same ones back to the woods again. And their skinny, slimy babies. And that if slugs could, in between bites of tender leaves, they were laughing at me.

So, the next week, I went back to Leonard's for another lesson, very bummed and confused and asked how was I supposed to proceed, after all, the slugs were harming the garden. So, who's rights should prevail here. And Leonard said, as any great teacher would, you figure it out.

Which brings me, finally to my point, when figuring out how to "do no harm" we each have to figure it out for ourselves each and every day, each and every moment. And the same goes for the rest of life: we each have to figure it out for ourselves. The only expert for your life is you. The only expert for my life is me.

After a while, I stopped trying to move all the slugs - I just moved a token few each morning. Then, I stopped bothering with even those few. Sometime later, I realized the slugs had moved on, or passed on or whatever. They weren't in my garden anymore. They came back later in the summer and I realized that I wasn't bothered by them anymore. Now, I wasn't going to pick one up and kiss it on its gooshy lips or anything, but I did realize they're a part of the world, a part of my garden and I no longer felt they stood between me and my potentially beautiful flowers, nor did I feel like serving them any free beer.

The Lead-Up

2008-01-09T13:46:00.000-05:00

I have a wonderful life. Wonderful family (husband, kids - I even love the extended families on both sides). We have a cool house in the woods. Enough liquid propane to keep us warm in the winter. We can afford the gas to drive where we need and wish to go. Healthy food to eat, clean water to drink and wash with, a safe spot to live in. We have friends, laughter, and a lot of music in our lives.

But it's been years since I started trying to figure out what to do with my life - and I wasn't getting any closer to knowing. I wasn't even getting any closer to starting any of the projects I told myself I'd do to before "getting a real job" (I'm a homemaker and I've done it for years, and I'm sorry if this offends but I believe that though we may work hard, it really is very different from bringing home the bacon - veggie or otherwise). I realized last year that I felt very much as I did as a teenager when I was going through an identity crisis. But, now here's the kicker - as a teen I felt like I had forever to figure it out. Thirty years later I realize that time's a-wasting - either I learn and become who I really want to be or I lose the chance.

So, I'm working on it. It's hard but it's easier than I expected it to be. It's both boring and exhilarating. It's turned my thinking upside down which has brought my thinking back home to where it's always been. The old me is gone and the new me is the old me. And strange as it may sound, this paragraph makes perfect sense to me!

2008-01-08T21:03:00.000-05:00

Deep breath.
Deep breath.
And another.
This is worse than staring at a blank piece of paper. Because, even if no one but her reads this, Kit will. So, it's public.
And it's me out here.
Scary.
So, here's the semi-grand experiment:

Okay, it's tomorrow, or the day after I wrote the above. I suppose that in the blogosphere I should start a new post but I never got to actually say anything yesterday, so I'm editing this first post (I keep writing post, because I'm trying to learn the correct terminology for what I'm doing here. I usually say "blog" for "post" and Kit (who, btw, is my daughter and bloguru) rolls her eyes and corrects me (again).)

So, anyway, here's the semi-grand experiment:
To see how much I can change myself and my life.
(For good, not evil, in case you were wondering.)