Mother's Voice

Twisted Yogini

2009-03-03T07:47:00.002-05:00

I find lately that the yogi voice is the voice making it's way out of me.

Perhaps not a bad thing.

Perhaps, I am balancing into one voice whereas before I thought I needed different spaces from which to speak.

Much of my writing is done at twistedyogini.blogspot.com

I will write here from time to time as it feels appropriate but as I unfold deeper into my practice, the words follow.

Perhaps you'll follow too...

The voice of the "nonbeliever"

2009-01-20T12:37:00.006-05:00

Even though I L*O*V*E our new president and voted for him with excitement and intention, I will invoke my right as a citizen of this nation to rebut him just as I have the outgoing prez--though I feel sure that I will be doing so less than before, fair is fair.

In his inaugural address, he addressed a few religious groups and then..."non-believers".

Hmmm...certainly a nod to people like me BUT it implies that there is something to believe in at all and I (and others like me) simply opt out. We choose not to believe.

I know, I know--shut up Tina. It's semantics, right?

Well. Sure. It's small potatoes for sure but language can include and exclude, it can elevate and reduce and I'm quite accustomed to being on the excluded and reduced side so I pick it up like a pin-drop.

All I'm saying is, we need new language for "non-believers"--something that recognizes and better represents the myriad ways that people define and express their spiritual-religious-nonspiritual-nonreligious experience and/or identity.

For now, Obama, I'll take 'seeker of meaning" or 'traveller of a borderless path'...or something to that effect.

Just get back to me...

Gripping the edge...

2009-01-16T01:45:00.003-05:00

I'm poised and ready and precariously balanced between mandate and will, as it seems.

The ground underneath me moves again--the walls are closing in and the air is getting thick.

When did commitment turn sour for me? Why now do I feel ill-prepared for what comes next? Why the questions all of a sudden, why the uncertainty and the wavering?

I look forward to a time when my decisions will be for me alone, void of consideration for others--I stand fragmented and lost and defeated.

But I stand...because I haven't fallen yet.

Waiting...

2009-01-14T10:27:00.003-05:00

Waiting...

A place of waiting, a face of waiting
...a being, a spirit...waiting.

Detached...uncommitted, frozen in place.

Peace...

2009-01-13T14:32:00.003-05:00

"...the peace that passeth understanding. The peace that comes from standing poised in the aching heart of life, the peace that is your core."

I read this in Yoga Journal and it resonated with me--it is the peace I seek each time I roll out my mat, each time I step off, within and out of every breath.

Wow

2009-01-07T20:57:00.006-05:00

What do you do when a person you have held so high for so long...humanizes themselves?

I went to say deflates your ideal but that's not fair--no one person should have to live up to the ideals we set for them, the best we can hope for from individuals in our lives is that they are human and they act accordingly and as such, are entitled to assume a range of human emotions, reactions and fronts.

I have been left speechless by a recent disagreement with my father--saddened and speechless.

What hurts the most is that his distancing himself, emotionally and physically, from me at that moment of rift was palpable.

His eyes were cold to me in a way I've never seen and his back turned on me as he walked out the door.

Since that incident, I've really had to sit with myself and explore the feelings surrounding it all--I would usually reach out but I wanted to make sure I knew what to say, how to say what I wanted and how to listen. Above all, I wanted to listen.

Today of all days, he calls--when I find out my partner has been fired from her job of 8 years and my children's absentee father resurfaces with their 8-month old sibling--B*A*N*G.

I knew when I saw his number that I couldn't answer--I couldn't handle another second of emotional turbulence.

On his 3rd attempt to reach me, I talked myself into calling him back--I figured it would be the high point of this very fucked up day, that a reconciliation would ensue.

I should have gone with my instincts--neither of us were ready for the conversation.

My father, this man I have admired all of my life, this man that I love with a passion, humanized himself and I wasn't ready for what I saw or for what I heard come from his mouth.

I suppose he saw something in me too that conflicted with his own ideals and here we sit on two sides of the same problem doing what stupid humans do--we build imaginary fences creating imaginary divisions.

Unfortunately, imagined barriers to our connection breed real pain and real disconnect and time is lost.

I have yet to come to words for what I feel right now and where I sit emotionally. Sure, I'm angry but that's the easy emotion--the reactionary one.

The hard part is that I'm hurt too and I'm lost as I doubt the relationship I treasured for so long.

I had to know...

2008-12-29T11:11:00.002-05:00

"I had to know I could leave, to know that I could stay."

This line is from a book I read recently--once read, this line reconciled the confusion I felt over my situation and where I found myself once the 'leaving' was over.

Now I can stay because I choose to stay...not because I have to or know no other way.

My life is in my hands.

A fairy among us...

2008-12-24T12:34:00.002-05:00

My life is no busier than anyone elses this time of year so I will not bore you with a 'this is how busy I've been' backdrop.

After a 5:30 AM personal yoga practice, teaching my 8 AM yoga class and a long day at work, my little family joined my brother's little family at his house last night for food, presents and fun.
It was wonderful. I had brought chocolate for melting and the cousins dipped and decorated pretzels and candy canes and lollipops, played Wii and we all enjoyed each other's company.

By 9:00, when we said goodbye for our drive home, I was exhausted. Physically spent and mentally drained--I had nothing left and the highway in front of me seemed foreign and much longer than EVER before.

That's when he said it, my little man.

"The tooth fairy's coming tonight!"

My heart sank.

A little bit of backdrop is necessary here.

Little man has had a very persistent baby tooth clinging to it's place in the ole' gums, above that a partial tooth and above that, the permanent tooth with no chance of descent because of it's position and the obvious barriers. So, step by step, our dentist is creating a path--yesterday, my little man took a very powerful sleeping pill and endured 5 shots to have this baby tooth pulled. He was so brave and came out smiling, one tooth short.

It's no wonder that, after this ordeal, he was excited for the treaure the tooth fairy would bestow.

In all my sensitivity, clearly dulled from exhaustion, I suggested we arrange for the tooth fairy and santa on the same night (I knew I could NOT out last him and be able to perform my fairy duties) and because my children work SO hard to be understanding and patient with me and all of my imperfections, he stiffened that little chin, puffed up his chest, giggled a bit and said that would be fine.

By 10:30 PM, after our storytime, I was out--no thoughts stirring my mind up last night. I was O*U*T.

This morning, my daughter, with her sweet little sleepy face, told me that she filled my fairy shoes--she had taken the $5 she received in her stocking the night before and left it on his nightstand. "I hope you don't mind" she said, "He just seemed so sad".

I was so moved--to my core, moved. So honored to have this child in my orbit, in my life.

There's more.

We went in to wake sleepyhead and as he came to give me a hug, I noticed that his face was sparkling with 'fairy dust'--she hadn't skimped on the duties of a good fairy. She had taken her role very seriously.

When I tell him that his face is very glitter-y, the tooth fairy must have come, he lights up with his thrilled, snaggle smile and begins his search.

There it is on the nightstand--$5 folded around a precious stone. Another beat not missed.

It's as if I passed the fairy torch last night--all that I have given reflected back to me and the importance it holds in their hearts, their traditions and their memories.

My cup runneth over.

Fragments

2008-12-19T10:23:00.002-05:00

I feel so overwhelmed and fragmented this morning--no morning walk for me and no morning yoga practice in lieu of a lousy hour more of sleep and making it to the office by 8:30 in order to leave early.

Breathe.

I'm trying.

But I am hitting myself with every possible blow and it's chipping away at my peace.

Holidaze.

Family coming to town.

Still needing to collect things from the old house--photo albums, pictures, outdoor furniture, plants, boxes. All the little bits that transform space into a home...

My children--who I feel are getting the ragged remains of mom at the end of her day, the fragments that weren't consumed prior to my seeing them.

Augh.

Curiosity

2008-12-15T15:46:00.003-05:00

I feel as if I am a curiosity, a curious little thing and it suits me just fine but I wonder if people know what to do with me.

One person in particular handled me far too much for far too long, dulling my luster with their prints and the breath of being too close.

If it's all the same with you, admire me from afar next time and don't pull me from my shelf unless you're damn well certain you can handle what you find in the depths.

Trying love again...

2008-12-14T18:39:00.003-05:00

I can't really explain what happened in the last 4 months--at least, I'm not there yet. I have ideas and stories I tell myself, stories we tell each other but the truth is elusive, there just below the surface, waiting for capture.

Nevertheless, we are baby-stepping toward each other again--more honest about where we are, more open about what we want, more willing to listen to the other, more interested in each other, more committed to our time, more involved in the space we occupy.

This makes me happy--this also makes me trepid.

There were real reasons we divided our home, our things, our lives and I want to make sure that we can overcome those obstacles, that we can call them forth, acknowledge them and decide what we do with them.

Are we stronger than what originally pulled us apart? Is our love deep enough? Are there ties that bind us and what are they made of?

Here's to trying love again--a love that never died, a love that changed formed, that bowed under the pressure of elements coincidentally coinciding--a love worth a second look.

The Lesson in Being Rear-Ended Again

2008-12-05T22:19:00.004-05:00

It is just a car--a thing.

Certainly, yes?

Let me start from the beginning. I pulled into the parking lot at work totally blissed out. I had practiced yoga, breath work and meditation and had my morning hour-long walk--nothing could penetrate my zen.

Isn't that when it happens? Just when you think you cannot be moved...

I was sitting at my desk when I watched it happen--the freakishly large delivery truck, 4 tires short of being a semi, backed into my little-bitty car. There was not a damn thing I could do and there was a millisecond when I determined exactly how I would respond--anger or calm. This was my choice.

I had my 'FuCk!' moment but as I walked out to the parking lot to face the driver and assess the damage, I had my reckoning in the hall where I called on that part of me that had surfaced during my time on the mat, the part of me larger than a dented bumper, the part of me more compassionate than a blind rage, the part of me who saw past things to people, the part of me in control of how I respond to the moments of my life.

And just like that...I entered my life as an active participant, as the participant.

Now there was no skipping or tossing of flower petals but there was peace in me that translated into peace between us as we exchanged information and proceeded through the steps of reporting the incident.

The report was made, I called the insurance company to request an estimate and arranged for a body shop referral. Very little time lost, insignificant really, for what I learned.

I learned that I can control my reactions to this world and the moments I move through, I learned that I choose and I like how it left me feeling.

Gratitude

2008-12-03T00:20:00.002-05:00

On this night, especially this night, I am prompted and moved to express my gratitude for my life and it's gifts.

My children--their smiles, energies, love and acceptance have changed my life and continue to nurture me on a daily basis. Because of them I am deeper, I am more plugged into life, I am more aware, I am bigger and better in spirit. They touch me so deeply.

My job--my mother recently lost her job and even while working, she was never happy to go to work. If I have to leave my children Monday-Friday, let it be because I have a career in a field that I love; in a field that moves me and excites me and inspires me--let it be this job I leave for every morning.

My morning walks and yoga practice--I have committed to walking 5 mornings a week and practicing yoga 7 mornings a week. This practice and commitment on my part has sustained me and continues to deepen my connection to myself, my purpose, my wants, desires, my path, my service, my potential and wonderful side effects have been my health and energy level and state of mind.

Morning coffee--I freakin' love that first cup.

Good music--feeds my soul and I have started a moving collection as of late.

Me--I am thankful for me. I am quite a woman and I admire me and I have made a life of standing in the center of a storm, strong and fierce and daring. I am grateful for my essence and my practice of yoga that taps into that essence on a daily basis.

Sex and the City--the reruns are on as I sit here still waiting to be tired so that I can manage at least 5 hours of sleep. I love those gals.

Can't sleep...

2008-12-03T00:09:00.002-05:00

When I came home from work this evening, the kids were with their other mom. I had my apartment all to myself.

I ate a small bite and began to doze on the sofa. Excited by the possibility of an insane amount of sleep, I washed my face and brushed my teeth and snuggled under the covers.

In no time at all, the thoughts began to flood my mind--things left undone, things left to do, inadequacies in my mothering, my homeschooling, a laundry list of things I still need from the house in order to be 'completely' moved out and moved in--a general panic had ensued.

This is not unusual for me--something about closing my eyes sometimes, it's all I need to flip the switch and tear myself apart.

So I surrendered and got out of bed to write. I have missed the small windows of reflection throughout my day that I used to enjoy. True--everyday I'm finding that I can do more and more than I ever imagined while working full-time, so I feel certain that I will find time for this, my creative soul, but until then I keep everything inside in pieces and it surfaces when I close my eyes on a night that I stood to sleep longer than five hours.

Musings...

2008-11-25T15:29:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving week and I know my cup runneth over, I know it. Trouble is, I'm having a hard time paying attention.

My mind is elsewhere and it bothers me because I don't like to live so fragmented--with my mind and heart operating on different planes. I'm preoccupied by a person so insignificant; mired by memories and thoughts that keep me fixed in a period I need to move past.

My rational mind realizes this but my emotional mind can't let go, won't let go.

I feel incomplete and wanting--there is also general financial uneasiness settling in for good reason. I have always rested in peace that the universe would provide for me--now that I am on my own, I need more than faith somehow. The stakes are higher--I have no fallback.

So much keeping me from being present...

Poems from my past...

2008-11-17T20:11:00.005-05:00

I was recently reading through some journals of old and, wow. It's always so interesting to revisit the thoughts that once traversed the mind--regardless of how dark they may be.

Nevertheless, I found some poetry of mine that I really like and wanted to share here.

You...
I am here
within the bliss
aside the stride
consuming breath
inhaling, exhaling
~ecstasy~
~elation~
~contentment~
breathe, I tell myself
inhaling, exhaling
begin again
ahhh...
here we go love.

I leave the interpretation of the above to your own imagination...

I give up.
I give in.
I give my last.
I take the blame.

Fairy tale fortunes
costless bliss awry.

I do not believe in the myths.

I will not buy into the falsehoods.

Fucking castles in the clouds; thunder.

Bastard knights or sleeping princesses; drugged.

Poisonous apples and fatal beauty; alas, a smile of reality.

I will not be love's pawn, I will be unmoved.

I am the untouchable, unbreakable.

The tainted love shall not imprison
My heart will not soften at it's whisper
My lips pursed and cursed
Ears deaf; I'm humming
Love is, alas
Alas it is...
...in me
wreak your havoc upon me.

This was me fighting the urge to love the woman who came to be my partner of 7 years.

As I step lightly, I am naive and new.
I am wisdom of all that I do not know
I am free to redefine who I come to be.
I am my own heritage.
The stories of souls within me,
speak the volumes I have yet to learn.
While composed of the essences of lives before,
I tread my own way,
because it must be my way,
can only be my way.

I've only just begun
and it may be near the end.

Will the peril offset my vision?

Never.

I stare deep into life,
"I dare your best".

I've only just begun,
and in beginning, I am alive.

I am alive.
I am beginning.
I am end.
I am choice.
I am time,
in the passing
of a life,
I am vision.

This was another period of upheaval, when I looked into the future and said, "Bring it on."

"Loss"
The length of time, a second.
The waning of the moon,
the breath before life escapes us,
the lie within the truth.

The chance never taken,
the feelings never voiced,
the beauty seen by no one,
the ugly seen by all.

The "what if" of our tomorrow,
"if only" of yesterdays,
the change never fostered,
the one who got away.

The goodbye that kept it's promise,
the tears upon a cheek,
the space between a moment,
the ones who go unseen.

Sunday morning...

2008-11-16T09:37:00.003-05:00

Coffee brewing in the kitchen, CBS Sunday Morning News in the background and children sleeping--it's nice.

Time and space to myself.

It's interesting--since I began working full-time, I've realized just how much I took my time for granted before and I miss the days of waking up and writing while the kids made their breakfast or read their books or slept late into the morning.

I miss that dream world, that alternate universe that we lived and moved in--I miss crafting on a whim, spontaneous tea times or field trips, baking bread and cookies, grocery shopping during 'off' times, I miss all of that and the little things I don't think of until I'm in a moment where it might have been possible and now it's not.

But here's the trade-off. Now I am in total control of my environment and I alone answer to myself alone. I no longer feel strapped to another or dependant upon another, I no longer feel like my whole world would cave if my partner left me, I no longer fashion and lead the way for a couple whereby the other is fully capable of their own fashioning and leading but concedes the role to me.

This place is new territory--it scares me, it overwhelms me, it saddens me and gladdens me and I take solace in knowing that this place, this choice that I am living out unfolds because I stepped into my life, because I took the reins for once and took over.

If this life is not to be lived then what is my purpose?

I believe we do certain things for our children, yes, we have an obligation. However, I do not believe that I should position myself in a place of safety and predictability that stifles my spirit and leaves me wanting ONLY to provide nest of comfort.

There is more here. They should see that too. I have taught them that it's never too late to shift the path, to change directions or jump if the moment's right.

Ahhh...it's much too complex to fully explore here, in one entry on one Sunday morning, especially now that the children are awake and they have their questions and they want to share things with me and amid the writing I've divided my focus between them and my own thoughts and made hot chocolates...it's time to jump into this part of my day.

Perhaps I'll finally write that book...

Before breakfast

2008-11-15T10:24:00.004-05:00

No one should have had this much activity before 10:00 in the morning--I am so tight with stress and need space to unwind.

Welcome to that space.

Already, I had a late night indulging in my weakness: L-Word on DVD. I must have watched 8 episodes and could have watched more but I was on call so I rationed my intake and made myself go to sleep at near 3:00 in the morning.

Then, at 5:00, I was paged--didn't have to leave until 8:00 when I received the final call but the hours in between were filled with interrupted sleep and more pages and phone calls as the coordination happened.

From the center, I came home to change clothes as I had a yoga class to teach at 10:00--fortunately, not one student came. Don't get me wrong--I LOVE teaching yoga, it's my heart. But this morning, I needed down time and space and my children in my orbit.

Here I sit, having coffee, writing, news in the background and breakfast muffins and vegetarian sausage toasting--children in my orbit.

Bliss.

The kids and I are going to play a game in a few minutes--I just need space to unwind for a bit and to allow the thoughts to skitter through my mind.

It feels good to think, to let the mind out of her box to run wild with no worries, no limits, no duties--to unfold.

That is all I ask for anymore, space to unfold--I've started something big and I want the fortitude to see it through, to set the tone and 'be'.

I have felt this urgency to couple myself to another lately--it's SO my modus operandi. Well, here is this wonderful opportunity to work on me, to focus on me and to be with me. I know I should and on some level I want to--I missed the whole dating scene and while dating is overrated, I do welcome the chance to be more discerning and more intentional in my choices from here.

I'm so fucking impatient--I want the end result already. Breathe Tina. Unfold. Moment by moment.

A settling

2008-10-30T14:09:00.003-04:00

Wow--the last few months have been crazy for sure. SO much change and so much upheaval, uncertainty, conflicting emotions--I have experienced the range, I have plummeted to my knees and I have risen beyond my physical self.

Now that the kiddos are home I have had to reevaluate my role in their lives--there has been an adjustment period. I cannot be consumed by my role for them any longer, just as I cannot be consumed by my role as partner to another person. I don't really know what happened on August 6th when I staked my claim on my own future and ended my relationship of 7 years, I have some ideas, but for the most part, I think I had begun to buckle under the weight of so much need from those around me. I had lost me and reached for any anchor I could draw to myself for stability and respite.

While the kids were away with my family, I drew into myself and came face-to-face with my essence. The ride has been life-changing. Not only that, I allowed my yoga practice to unfold and go deeper, to become a real part of my life, to become what I turn to and where I shape the path of my life. I met me. Not me the mother, not me the partner, not me the anything other than me, the essence.

I have always been afforded these wonderful periods of realization where I am able to find out what I'm made of--this was one of those and I still believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am unbreakable.

I followed my path all the way through the darkness, to where some might not dare to go lest they be lost forever but I went and I dared the space and I surfaced changed.

I don't know what this will look like in 2 weeks, 2 months or even tomorrow but I know, I know with the certainty that I know the sun will rise, I know I will make it and they will make it and I will never settle for less again, at least not without an eventual awareness of my bargain.

This life man, this is it. The stakes are high and as a mother, the stakes are higher as you navigate lives--more than just you and the challenge is to do so without getting lost.

I start my new full-time job next week, the one I have prayed for, the one my family and friends have prayed for, for me. It was quite the interfaith prayer circle we had going.

I am thrilled to be starting this journey--unprecedented in my life thus far. I have always enjoyed my work as a victim advocate, this position is an extension of that work and already the connections and relationships that I will be building for myself excite me.

I am further defining my identity, an identity I have not had the luxury of defining past my children.--not because of them necessarily but because I lost sight of me.

Here's to eyes wide open...

Homecoming...

2008-10-07T03:10:00.003-04:00

The kids and I will be back together in two days!!!

I am so excited--I wrote that I related to the woman's story who relinquished custody of her children and I do. Partly because I could never judge another's matter of the heart and partly because I know very little of her experience, but for me, I have done a really good job establishing boundaries between my children and I, of maintaining my identity and giving myself freedom to mother my way. Therefore, I am SO happy to have them with me again.

It's been almost six weeks--mama is healed, mama is centered and mama did precisely what she set out to do.

The homecoming is going to beautiful and we have a whole new home to fill with memories.

Earlier...

2008-10-06T16:45:00.003-04:00

...I read a story written by a mother who decided to leave her children with her ex-husband and forge a life for herself, on her own, separate of and from them.

This is not a choice one makes lightly and I have to say--I related to her experience. She felt very tied to them, existing through them, unclear of who she was, defined by her role as a mother.

I do not judge her--I've had my own 6 weeks. Ultimately, I'll have my children back but we're different women in different places. I have worked very hard to understand who I am, along the way, to maintain my 'self', asserting my boundaries early on--one of my daughter's first phrases was "mommy time". My son was a harder sell.

I have to admit here, had I not had the time and space to adjust to my recent life change, I don't know what the present would look like. I was in a bad place and damn' it--as mothers, we just don't get to be in those places, not without acrimonious judgement. We hear bullshit like, buck up for the kids or when you have children you don't get to...(fill in the blank with your own value judgement here) or we tell ourselves the same lies.

It's not realistic--we are multidimensional. I can't lay flat if I'm a cube and hell if I want to try. I refuse to be flat.

I would like to think that I would have the fortitude to ask for breathing room, to ask for space, to assert myself, to ask for EXACTLY what I needed, even if what I needed was a break from the life I was living, or, rather, the life I was experiencing.

The stakes are too high, all the way around. For them, for us.

Perhaps if motherhood wasn't such an all or nothing enterprise, perhaps if societal support existed for mothers, perhaps if we expected more out of fathers, then, perhaps, mothers wouldn't have to choose.

You back me into a corner and I choose me, first. I can't rescue my children if I'm drowning, I can't position their oxygen mask if I can't breathe and I can't hold them up if there's no ground under my feet.

My mothering is experiencing a glorious shift...

You can read her story here:
http://www.literarymama.com/columns/motherhoodfromafar/archives/2008/10/countdown.html

Unfortunately

2008-10-04T22:50:00.002-04:00

[I just found this piece of writing--the subject matter is a bit old but worthy of including as it delves into this shadow self I have confronted over the last few weeks]

If she weren't so god damn perfect, I wouldn't blink. If she weren't everything I want in a person, a partner, a friend, it would be so easy to move myself forward from here.

Unfortunately, her honesty is raw.

Unfortunately, she's beautiful and funny and speaks from her heart and has this gorgeous crazy hair that I love to sweep away from her face when I kiss her.

Her body is adorned by art chosen along her path, each meaning something to her at the time--beautiful representations of a woman unfolding.

Unfortunately, her eyes reflect her heart when she's vulnerable and I hang on those words.

Unfortunately, she's intoxicating and strong and fierce and independent and ambitious and hungry and her own.

Unfortunately, she came too soon or perhaps too late because it remains to be seen if time will foster more of a story for she and I or if the end is here.

Unfortunately, this was no accident--we were destined to meet, to connect with each other.

I knew I was being pulled in a dangerous direction, I knew my life was going to shift but I don't regret the progression toward her, even if it only meant a move from something else.

I want to connect to someone, I want to feel drawn, I want to love again because I want to be loved again, I want to live a life authored by me--so I jumped without looking, without thinking twice and without bracing for the fall.

And I fell...

Unfortunately, she is inspired by life, sharing life experiences with enthusiasm, listening with curiosity and interest.

Unfortunately, that inspiration has her so hungry, so in awe of the orchestration that it leaves her vulnerable when her time stretches too thin.

Unfortunately, she can't just live in the moment she's in...because there is no us in the next.

Grace by Saving Jane

2008-10-04T14:51:00.003-04:00

There seems to be a religious bent to this song--perhaps it's a spiritual one, nevertheless, the words resonate with me...

"As I stumble to the light of grace...
I'm weary, I'm broken, I've cracked my heart wide open...
I don't wanna be, I don't wanna be lost again."

Though I know it's too much to ask, I don't want to be lost again but I'm much too actualized; aware of my self, my situation, my potential, to never be lost again--ideally, the 'finding' comes with a bit less pain, a little less ground-shaking and tad more balance.

Hmmm...

Reflections...

2008-10-02T13:25:00.007-04:00

A month has passed since my parents took the kiddos--we've stayed in touch w/emails and phone calls. I've moved in and out of missing them, sometimes only a bit, sometimes so much it shook me.

Overall, I'm relieved and blessed to have had this time--I focused on me. I got to know me a bit more than I think I did before. After all, so much has changed, I'm no longer some one's other half, significant other, partner--just Tina, just me.

Me first from now on. I am a mother, yes. I teach yoga, yes. I am a thesis candidate, yes. A friend, yes. An advocate, yes. But first, foremost and evermore, I am me--independent of the boxes others would like to put me in, impossible to define and limitless. Me.

This has been rough--'this' might have turned into a 6-month transition had I not been able to saturate myself in the nuance of my experience, all alone. In the last month I have separated myself from her, come frighteningly close to falling in love so that the subsequent pulling apart caused a small heartbreak, probably made more dramatic against the backdrop of my situation. I have immersed myself in yoga and really come to appreciate my practice as a centering force in my life, something I turn to, something I rely on. I have come to my knees. I have risen and fallen again. I have drank too much, smiled too little. I have considered giving up and allowing this life to pass through my fingers. I have been overwhelmed by empowerment, in awe of me and the force of me. I have doubted, for a split second or two, the decision I made that brought me here. I have fallen apart and come back together again, stronger than ever it seems--level, centered...god I hate to jinx myself. Level and centered, for now.

It is a monumental practice to stay in the moment--to see only that which is before you, to concern yourself ONLY with that which is there right now. So here I am--in this moment and all is well. The next isn't looking so bad--we'll see where they culminate and how I fare during the journey.

Simple Pleasures

2008-09-27T23:17:00.010-04:00

I decided to go to the beach today by myself--the kids are still away and I've yet to arrange time for me. Sure, I've had a cup of coffee here or a lunch there but usually I'm just stopping in, taking a break from a busy day of job hunting or dropping off applications or meeting with my thesis advisor--whatever.

Today, was a date with me.

I lotioned up before I left the house to avoid the gritty experience of lotioning on the beach, trimmed the hedge if you know what I'm sayin', put a bandanna on my head so I wouldn't have to worry about burning my dome--because I wanted to walk and walk and walk and not be dissuaded by my fear of too much sun.

So I walked--I smiled from the inside out, I reflected as the waves crashed creating a rhythm I could breath to, unfold to. It was beautiful--it was serene.

As I was walking I noticed something that drew me to it, veering off my path a bit. It was a conch shell the size of the palm of my hand--I couldn't believe it. There it was, in perfect form except for a minor chip, a mere scar from it's journey across the ocean floor to me.

This shell became my omen--just when you least expect it, there it is. Whatever 'it' is--just when you least expect it, there it is. I took her as a sign and held her close to me like an anchor--my eyes filled with tears. Everything moves me as of late, everything speaks to me--either I'm open to some sort of cosmic language or I'm one foot in the door of the crazy hotel. Either way, senses heightened for sure.

I walked for two hours--I never have this sort of time. It reminds me of when I first moved to Florida, god, 16 years ago. I LIVED at the beach--it was my oasis as I struggled with a whole other stock of grievances.

It was nice--god it was more than nice. I am on this path of discovering that I am whole after all, that I am enough, that I am an individual outside of my children and that's okay. I thought I had already discovered that because I didn't believe a lot of my identity rested in my role as mother but I think it did, more than I knew.

I will not fill this space apologizing for or minimizing what I just said--it will stand on its own, judgements and judgers be damned.

Later, I had dinner with myself at my favorite Thai spot--Tom Ka Gai soup with fried tofu and peanut dipping sauce. As far as I could see, my table of one was the best spot in the place.

It was enough, I was enough.

Rock Bottom

2008-09-27T23:03:00.004-04:00

Sometimes--I have to hit it. I fall and sink and collapse and crumble but until I land at my lowest, the nadir of my experience, I have no way back again.

So I did--thank god. The relief is palpable.

I was beginning to wonder it there was a bottom in this case--I've had two episodes that scared the shit out of me when seen from my outside. Especially the most recent. I didn't recognize myself, I didn't recognize the words coming out of my mouth but that didn't stop them from coming.

I though I might have to be hospitalized in order to be stabilized--I almost wanted it. I wanted to surrender in the most profound way. No. I wanted to give up. I was tired. I was weak. I was despondent.

Certainly, the alcohol didn't help but it didn't create this personal reckoning of mine out of thin air--what it did was tap into the fear, the confusion, the despondency that I have lived within for the last two months. I turned inside out on my bed and the pain poured out of me.

My first Kirtan

2008-09-21T22:27:00.004-04:00

Kirtan is devotional music--this evening I had my first.

There were 6 of us and pockets of others around the world, for sure, in celebration of World Peace Day. We sat in a circle, the beautiful tattooed woman to my right began the chant and we gradually joined in--our voices grew, the music grew, the energy was intoxicating as we first called on Ganesh, remover of obstacles.

I have never sung out loud in a room full of people before and this evening, it didn't even matter, I was not singing for them, I was singing for me, I was connecting to Ganesh in the name of removing obstacles in my own life.

From there we chanted Om Namah Shivaya and only a few minutes ago did I learn the meaning (very loosely translated): Om and salutations to that which I am capable of becoming.

It is now so very clear why I felt lifted from earth during that time, why I was emotionally drawn and centered in peace.

We closed our kirtan with a chant for peace, Om shanti, shanti, shanti and I used mala beads for the first time in my life. Aside from my foot falling asleep, I was totally into it and moved by the experience.

It was just what I needed on a day like today.

Falling apart...

2008-09-16T22:29:00.003-04:00

I am so tired of crying, so tired of feeling like I'm losing my mind.

I hate this house--love doesn't live here anymore, only emptiness, only what was, no promises, no hope, no children in the other room.

Sometimes I curse the moment she walked into my life but then where would I be? Do I appreciate the purpose she served and let go, hoping that such a person longs for me somewhere in time?

Why do I need that?

Because it's all I know, because we all want love if we're honest. Because I want someone to want me, to long for me, to miss me, to hear me, to see me, to feel me, to search through their own time for me.

I went to the doctor today--vitals were good, check-up was good. They smiled as they told me this, as if I should appreciate the health they confirmed for me.

I knew what they didn't, what they have no tools to measure--the vitals they can't possibly gauge are crashing. My soul is sinking, my essence crushed and suffocating under the weight of uncertainty and fear.

My destiny and my future are in danger of never being realized if I can't shake this disease that they'll never be able to diagnose.

Breaking up and breaking open

2008-09-14T22:38:00.003-04:00

I must preface with, I am so relieved that the children are with my parents right now. I can't imagine how I could do this, all that I must do, while still managing a semblance of who they need me to be.

I have had space to fall apart.

I have come to my knees and I have I bowed my head to the floor to cry.

I stayed in a heap on the floor until the shaking stopped.

I have succumbed to fear.

I have withered away, physically and mentally.

I have had space to realign the crookedness I feel inside and to disjoint myself again with thoughts, forward thinking and fears while I fumble toward the life I asked for.

I miss them but if they came back tomorrow, it would be too soon. I am not whole yet.

I still feel as if I am in pieces--an array of pieces that do not even look as if they will ever fit together and so what the fuck do I do now?

The only thing I can do--the only certainty I have counted on the last two weeks.

I cry. I break-down. I smile again and walk with air under my feet. I hope and I dream. I fear and I shake and I tremble and I write this at this moment with a knot in my throat because the rawness is palpable and I have yet to find space to breathe.

When will I breathe again?

When will I feel healed?

When will it not hurt so much that I will be able to eat a meal without feeling as if the pain of my existence has already filled the space where the food should go?

I have days when I force the food into my mouth and I gag as I swallow because I have no hunger--no lust.

Just fear.

Just raw fucking fear--the kind that swallows your breath before you gasp for it. The kind that sends your children away when they just might be the only anchor you have.

Theme Songs

2008-09-03T17:59:00.002-04:00

"I won't be lost. Next time you see me, my pain will be gone."--Natalie Imbruglia, "I Won't Be Lost"

Every good break-up or huge life transition needs a theme song--I have several.

The one above, another by Ani DiFranco, "Superhero":

"I used to be a superhero, no one could touch me and not even myself and you were like a phone booth that I somehow stumbled into--now look at me, I am just like everybody else..."

But also "Joyful Girl" by Ani:

"I do it for the joy it brings, because I am a joyful girl--because the world owes me nothing but we owe each other, the world"

I'll have to think of others...stay tuned!

I'm afraid to be alone?

2008-08-31T13:29:00.002-04:00

I think so.

When I think of living alone...fuck yeah, I'm terrified.

So perhaps because it is so terrifying, I need to face it, embrace it, experience it.

I don't usually run or fade from that which scares me--I like the challenge it presents to stay in place and ride the wave, even if it means losing ground, falling back, starting again.

Who am I in this realm?

What am I made of?

Where am I going?

What do I want and what does it look like?

Why am I most scared?

When will it cease to hurt?

I don't fucking know.

Were humans really meant to experience every possible human emotion in the broad range of emotions at one time in their lives?

I don't think so but here I am--fumbling forward through the experience.

I'm running so fucking fast in my mind, thinking past, thinking aside--anywhere to avoid thinking here, in this moment that is so suffocating and intense.

Step Six: Abandon the "step" system

2008-08-31T12:32:00.003-04:00

I quit. The steps are beginning to run together and, really? Can this seriously be reduced to steps? I'm not overcoming an addiction here, I'm redefining my life.

To that end, I officially abandon the step system in lieu of the more traditional Tina approach--systematically flying by the seat of my pants. I realize, that's akin to saying something like, "ordered chaos" but whatever.

Just another path in my necessary progression and I will find my way but will not necessarily know what each step is ahead of time, probably not until I'm taking the step.

I still say, uh, bring it on--with a little less gumption than I have used in the past.

Step Five: Financial Prep

2008-08-28T12:34:00.003-04:00

There are many "joints" between the two of us that must be divided into their separate parts. Additionally, I must consider that my income is going to be very meager--so in that line, I have proceeded accordingly.

Step Five: Financial Prep

Called insurance agent and have removed her from my policy effective Sept. 14th. {Agent will follow up with her to establish a new but separate policy}
Arranged to defer student loan until February--hopefully, by then, my financial situation will have stabilized.

All is still good--the promise, the hope, the possibility...they keep me stepping up, stepping forward and not looking back for a single second.

The whirling of my mind...

2008-08-26T11:50:00.003-04:00

Wow--I'm in and out of various lines of contemplation.

So many lines of thoughts...

I have been at the computer ALL morning arranging our lessons for the day--American Revolution, Women of the Revolution--we must incorporate the sisters, the feminine energy permeating our story, excerpts of Patrick Henry's famous speech calling the nations to arms so that the children can translate his words into their own, hopefully sealing their understanding of just what he was calling on the nation to do.

Sigh. Then there is the subject of my own life...piecing together a yoga teaching schedule that will fit around any new part-time work that I take on.

And then, the general practice of staying in the moment. Right here. Not skipping ahead to next week or lingering in the yesterday or the day before with all of it's sweetness. Some moments or periods of our lives are so very sweet and perfect that it is tempting to rest there...but this sort of resting, this sort of looking back is counterproductive to the forward movement of our lives. It can distract us from the moment--the precise moment we are in.

Such is my challenge today and everyday I suppose but my consciousness is raised to it's importance this day.

And so I rise to meet the expectations I have set for myself as a mindful being moving through time.

The need of me...

2008-08-24T14:52:00.004-04:00

Today has been...interesting. I'm in the wake of pretty intense feelings that are still stirring within--beautifully, beautifully intense.

I'm really looking forward to the children visiting their grandparents--my parents are picking them up this weekend and they are staying for an indeterminate period of time. Perhaps two weeks, maybe four.

Sure, I'll be sad and miss them like crazy but I just need some breathing space from the need of me. I need me right now. I need to be inside and intimately around the space of me--as a mom especially, I just don't get that sort of relief.

On some level, deep, deep inside, I feel slightly ashamed for needing it but that's not me--at least I don't think. I recognize it as the larger institutional message of motherhood.

Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice.

But this is my life too and I have an inalienable right to claim that relief for myself and to need me and to want only me, for a period, as I set our new path in motion.

The Road Not Taken

2008-08-22T12:11:00.002-04:00

I am confined to the house today by the standing water on our street and I'm good with that now.

I had to find a comfort for it--I started my day a bit stir crazy, wanting to move, needing to move, trying to move. Staying on the go has allowed me to move past any feelings coming up--outrunning them in a way.

But today. Stillness. And it's good.

I took out an older journal with the intention to write longhand for a change and feeling good about putting thoughts to paper on this day suited for nothing else.

Before I started, I looked back over the pages from the past several months and what I found was liberating.

I found entries dealing with my past relationship, the one I am leaving now and I could almost cry at the sense of desperation and hopelessness inherent in my words.

One entry in particular struck me and is the inspiration for this. I was exploring the road not taken and listed several instances where this might be worth writing about--having not pursued a love interest with "her" made the list.

When I think of how much time I have given to this stagnant relationship, I am saddened. I know, I know, all things happen for a reason and I believe this so I allow comfort for that alone.

Yet I can't help thinking, how long would I have festered here? Why now, did I find my voice? What will come?

My only reason for "festering", for staying put was the fear of financially supporting the children on my own. And in the wake of my admission to her, my only vulnerability is still one of economics. My heart is not broken, my stance is not shaky, my mind is clear and my gaze is set beyond this. That's how you know you've stayed too long.

I have to take a slight deviation from this current course of writing to speak to something that has just come up. This is how much she doesn't get me and a testament to how she never has--I'm writing right now and she has come to stand in front of me several times, trying to talk, trying to get my attention--really?

What do you think I'm doing here? As a writer, I must put words down--whether I write, whether I type, the words must make their exit from me and take their form. It is an act of necessity and an act of passion--I am instinctively drawn to my writing. I must tell a story--I know no other way of processing the world I live in, the space I occupy. The act itself is merely a reflex for me.

And, really? You stand before me and play with that--have we met?

Confirmation.

I get these tidbits daily anymore--at times, moment to moment.

The road not taken has just been taken and the traveler anticipates the journey.

Looking into my future...

2008-08-21T16:38:00.002-04:00

Talk about scared. There's so much to do before I can move forward with the freedom that I am so craving right now.

I need patience more than ever--I need to relinquish my hold on the end result and allow the path to open to me but that's so freakin' hard.

I see myself on my own, supporting myself and the kids, living simply but living in peace and living authentically. For the first time in my life, living in a way that I choose to live versus living by chance.

Then I can be open to what comes next--I never expected the next to come before the end here...but that's another story for another day. And it's a beautiful story that deserves its own binding...and so she shall have her own.

In one week, the kiddos are going to stay with my parents for almost a month and I'll use that time to prepare the next stage of our lives.

When they return, I would like to be in a part-time job and I would like to have secured an apartment--maybe not moved in yet, I am a realist but at least an idea of where we'll be moving.

I don't plan to spend a lot of time at home while they're gone, well, there's sleeping but I want to be diligent and productive--I want to make things happen.

I have been still for far too long. I have settled for far too long.

It's my time.

My intention...

2008-08-20T20:18:00.003-04:00

In yoga practice this evening, we were asked to state an intention for our practice--an intention is a path, where you want to go...

My intention this evening was:

I am patient
I am centered
Life will unfold
No attachments

These words focused my mind and I think they cleared the fog that has been surrounding me--the fog of stress, the fog of change, the fog of the unknown.

However, it is and will forever be all good.

Step Four: Open own account

2008-08-19T21:17:00.002-04:00

As I step closer to my own independence, I need these steps to happen so I see progress.

Everything is tied together--the house, the furniture, the kitchenware, the movies, DVDs, CDs and, yes, money.

So with that being said,

Step Four: Open own account

Done.

With a measly amount of money in each, I have a savings and checking all on my own now.

Atta girl.

Out of the house...

2008-08-18T18:49:00.005-04:00

So I escaped...and that's what it felt like too. Isn't that terrible?

I felt like the walls were closing in--like if another person said my name or called upon me, I would break into a million tiny pieces, settling among the piling animal hair already on my dirty-ass-because-I-lack-the-will-to-clean-it floor.

I love my children, I do but mommy's going crazy right now.

I'm babysitting this week, keeping me pretty much stuck inside the house--ha. Now that's a laugh, a real freakin' hoot when I consider the volatile state I'm in. Like a soda bottle that has been shaken or dropped and the next person needing me seeks to take the cap off.

Stand back.

At least my humor has returned, however dark.

Once in the car, I felt a sense of relief that has been evading me all day, well, since the last time I was out of the house.

The pressure is on man. There's no reprieve. I must endure this break-up and all the shit attached, while simultaneously mothering, educating, listening to and supporting my children.

In all seriousness, I did just have an idea...

...went away to act upon said idea. Done.

My kiddos are going to stay with the grandparents--I see light.

Light for them, light for me. I'm no fun to be around right now. I'm not good for them right now because I'm hardly good for myself.

This space will allow me to look for a job, sort out my housing situation, breathe, be inside myself if that's where I need to be--stay inside myself if that's where I need to stay.

See I left the house and was able to think. This epiphany might not have happened had I stayed within those walls, those closing in walls.

The grandparents will be here in two weeks to pick them up and then I can turn to me, solely. To me.

Maybe then, the letting go can begin.

Let It Go
by Donna Faulds

Let go of the ways you thought life would unfold;
the holding of plans or dreams or expectations -
Let it all go.
Save your strength to swim with the tide.
The choice to fight what is here before you now
will only result in struggle, fear, and desperate attempts to flee
from the very energy you long for.
Let it go.
Let it all go and flow with the grace
that washes through your days
whether you receive it gently
or with all your quills raised to defend against invaders.
Take this on faith:
The mind may never find
the explanations that it seeks,
but you will move forward nonetheless.
Let go, and the wave's crest
will carry you to unknown shores,
beyond your wildest dreams or destinations.
Let it all go and find the place of rest and peace,
and certain transformation.

Blah.

2008-08-18T14:16:00.002-04:00

That is Blah. (period) Like, nothing more to say.

I'm so grumpy today.

I look at my mood from yesterday and then today and think, really Tina? Get your shit together.

Pace.

Pace.

Pace.

Patience.

Argh the human condition.

I need some brain food--I need a vacation from all that I am sitting in right now.

I SO do not need to be on call tonight because I'm sure there's a wine glass I could lose myself in.

Blah.

Words that resonate with me...here

2008-08-17T13:26:00.003-04:00

I am a total nerd in the sense that I love words...love, love, love them. I get excited when I find a word, a single word, that expresses a full idea or state of being.

So here I am in this afternoon of space cleaning, singing at the top of my lungs to Air Supply, eating a celery stick but still managing the melody and fantasizing about a room of my own, a space of my own--here I am distilling my experience to a few words.

And now, without further ado, because I know you're hanging, words that speak to where I am.

Authenticity
The state of being genuine.

To me, here, this is what I'm reaching toward. I have spent quite some time in a situation that did not speak to my soul or move me the way I need to be moved. I am who I am and I SO love the person I unfold into throughout my existence when I'm open to receive and when I'm living in alignment with my essence.

I can no longer deny myself my greatest happiness.

Visceral
Instinctive, moving forward under the spell of instinct over intellect.

Heart over mind--I'm throwing caution to the wind in so many respects. Don't get me wrong--the fear is palpable but I move through it and will not cower from any chance of joy, whether joy comes in new love, new starts, new paths, new hopes, newly found needs, newly claimed needs--I am the orchestrator of my life and I'm much too passionate to be ever led by my intellect. This does not mean I am dispelling reason and good sense but I won't hold back. I'm in and I'm open and I'm exposed.

Ephemeral
Passing; lasting a very short time.

This unknown that I am approaching--it is passing. Each moment is, whether viewed as negative or positive or happy or sad. These moments are passing. I will not always be afraid--clarity will enter my life in the form of an opportunity and the fear will pass.

I ride the wave because I know it is just that--a wave. I will rise and I will fall and I will take something from each.

Viveka
The process in yoga by which an individual aims to separate the real from the unreal and to unite the soul with the Reality underlying the universe. Yes. Reality with a capital "R".

Viveka literally means separating out or discernment and the individual, in this case, me, I make it my intention to seek out the realness as presented to me versus distracting myself with the unreal, being the perceptions I have, the preconceptions or fears. Because in Reality, I am handed moments that in themselves are neither good nor bad yet it is my perception that colors the experience, labeling it either good or bad, happy or sad.

"Reality is relentless. It follows behind every denial, every avoidance, until it is embraced with open arms."--Amrit Desai

This is my one-day daughter's name--I hereby name her before her birth, Viveka. May she always abide in reality.

But as I write that, I think, perhaps I've just come into my name. It so speaks to me and symbolizes a personal claiming of my whole self--taking me on for me. Giving birth to me...again.

Namaste'

Step Three: Sleep Alone

2008-08-17T11:58:00.002-04:00

I slept alone last night, with the intention of sleeping alone. I will eventually be sleeping alone again, yes? For me, this step signifies greater independence--a pulling apart of what has been joined together over the years. A necessary pulling apart.

Step three: Sleep alone

Done.

Moving on...

Step Two: Tell the Children

2008-08-14T15:00:00.004-04:00

Please read the "Starting Over" post to be updated on the happenings of late that have prompted these 'Steps'--it will explain everything.

Probably the most difficult of all steps involved--actually, that should read, definitely.

There is no easy way to tell a child that their entire world is about to change--the parents they have known most of their lives are going to set about parenting in separate places, living separate lives.

That sort of news just doesn't slide over--it's a punch in the chest, a very painful, noticeable shift in awareness and thinking.

Step Two: Tell the Children

Done.

Now what?

Well, I remain open and available for them to come to me, talk to me, turn to me, lean on me.

More than that, I explain to them that this was the only possible choice for me to make--that I love this life I've been given and I must proceed in a way that honors that, that honors my lust for life, my craving and hunger for passion, my desire for more, my need for growth, as an individual and with my life partner.

More still? Guard their hearts, proceed with caution and let go as we all move forth into the unknown...and, breathe.

Step One: Narrow Down Expenses

2008-08-13T20:54:00.003-04:00

Please read the "Starting Over" post to be updated on the happenings of late that have prompted these 'Steps'--it will explain everything.

It would be so easy to keep living this life that I live--sitting tight in the relationship that has worked for so long, running a smooth house with a balance of responsibilities, nurturing the children and sharing their needs/care, managing the day-to-day business of what comes up together and numbing desires with monotony, curbing passion with complacency.

The fear is enough to keep me still, enough to keep me anchored to a life I can no longer endure. I have started down this road of separation and can't imagine going back.

I've used my voice and I've claimed my right to happiness, claimed my right to authenticity, claimed my place, independent of her, independent of that which does not bring me joy or take me higher.

I want to be elevated--I want to rise.

In the last year, I've tapped into the depths of myself, understanding me and rooting into my possibilities--this cannot, this will not be that which takes me down.

Now I've entered an arena of logistics--fortunately for me, I'm an educated girl and think well on my feet and, well, there is the strength that I have inside and my resolution to keep my head up.

So, I have to start somewhere, right? Might as well begin with what scares me most--finances.

Step One: Narrow Down and Split Expenses
Steps taken toward that end?

Cancelled cable (except for basic)--a savings of $66.00 a month.
Cancelled Blockbuster subscription--a savings of $25.00 a month.
Make a list of her financial responsibility, as well as my own, while we live under the same roof--creating a "roommate" situation.

Now I suppose another job is in order? As much as I love my yoga--it does not pay the bills. Update to follow on this I'm sure.

Starting over...

2008-08-13T20:43:00.002-04:00

I hereby declare my independence from the relationship I have been in for 7 years.

It's over and we are taking steps to sever what took 7 years to build.

It is SO all good. No heartbreak for me please, no sadness--I am so completely fine.

I do understand that this whole sh-bang will take some time but I plan to do my part to actively work toward independent lives in a timely and intentional manner.

My heart is already out--it has been for some time. It's no secret here. I've posted on this before and since saying it out loud to her, I've felt relieved and saved.

There is hope beyond this and I am sinking my feet in for the duration--for whatever comes.

I will detail the steps of this break-up here, chronicling where we are and where I plan to be, need to be. This is serious for me, this is BIG.

I am asserting myself in a HUGE way, in spite of fear and in the face of all that is unknown.

I say, bring it on.

A sweet lullaby...

2008-08-11T14:23:00.002-04:00

Today my borrowed Zen baby spent the day with us and her energy level has really expanded since we saw her last, before her trip abroad.

She's testing her limits, exploring the edge of boundaries and beyond and asserting herself. With all of this in mind, understand that nap-time was welcomed today.

Following her lunch, I laid down with her on the bed and the tearful protest began immediately as she sat straight up, tossed the teddy I had offered her and screamed with all of the indignation of a two year old.

I gently laid her back beside me and began to sing--nothing was making it above the cry. So I thought...and considered. Maybe she didn't like the song, maybe the English words were frustrating now that she's so proficient with her Italian.

So I began to gently chant a sanskrit mantra and blessing:

lokah samasta sukhino bhavantu (x3)
om shanti, shanti, shanti
(repeat)

And while I gently chanted these blessed words, I placed my hands above us and entered into different mudras, keeping somewhat of a rhythm that she could get lost in...and she did.

When I closed with a final round of "om"--silence and then the sound of a deep inhale as the sleep breathing began throughout her body.

I was centered from the experience--it was blissful to have gently led her to sleep with syllables so full of meaning and vibrancy and history.

And now, she is awake again and the day is new to her--fresh, exciting and ripe with potential as she scampers into the midst of it all.

Women Deserve Better

2008-08-07T23:36:00.001-04:00

Yeah. What she says.

Watch the You Tube video featured on this blog page:

http://idyllia.blogspot.com/2008/08/women-deserve-better.html

It is SO worth the 3 minutes or so and might even give you chills because you know that, yes, we do deserve better.

Bring it on...

2008-08-06T23:33:00.003-04:00

This really only resonates with me at this moment because I know precisely what's going on in my life.

I just want to remember this feeling.

Tonight, I took the first step toward redefining my path.

There will certainly be others--no doubt.

Bring it on.

Through the Fire

2008-08-04T22:56:00.002-04:00

I'm SO not ashamed to admit that I love this song--it played in the background of a cheese movie that was on tonight.

Chaka Khan.

You're welcome.

Lyrics:

I look in your eyes and I can see
We've loved so dangerously
You're not trusting your heart to anyone
You tell me you're gonna play it smart
We're through before we start
But I believe that we've only just begun
When it's this good, there's no saying no
I want you so, I'm ready to go

[Chorus:]
Through the fire
To the limit, to the wall
For a chance to be with you
I'd gladly risk it all
Through the fire
Through whatever, come what may
For a chance at loving you
I'd take it all the way
Right down to the wire
Even through the fire

I know you're afraid of what you feel
You still need time to heal
And I can help if you'll only let me try
You touch me and something in me knew
What I could have with you
Well I'm not ready to kiss that dream goodbye
When it's this sweet, there's no saying no
I need you so, I'm ready to go

[Chorus]

Through the test of time

[Chorus]

Through the fire, to the limit
Through the fire, through whatever
Through the fire, to the limit
Through the fire, through whatever

I'm sure to be humming this song to my family's chagrin for days.

Butter, Trampoline, Toast

2008-08-04T13:47:00.004-04:00

Now I've got you wondering, right?

To preface, the kids were begging for Frappuccinos today--so, much like any other day, the little junkies. And I have a system of maybes--a scale, if you will.

There is the right-down-the-middle maybe, the weak-close-to-no maybe and the strong-close-to-yes maybe.

I gave them a weak-close-to-no maybe that I would take them later in the afternoon--they were elated. But, I warned, the more you ask or remind, the closer you get to no, so leave me alone.

While we were having our lunch together this afternoon, little man put his hand up to his face to mouth something to his sister across the table without my seeing.

My daughter says, "Butter, Trampoline, Toast?" and he giggles and says, "close".

Then it hits me what has been said and I'm thinking, what?

So I say, "Butter, Trampoline, Toast? And she's close?"

And they laugh their cute little kid laughs and I'm drawn in--I laugh too.

Then he confesses, "Frappuccinos."

I couldn't knock them down the maybe scale because the whole span of moments had been too priceless to cost them.

Now that was a moment worth being present for.

The morning cup: Procrastination

2008-08-03T09:23:00.003-04:00

My morning news show is on in the other room--I'm slightly pulled in but so comfortable in my chair at my kitchen desk, with my cup of coffee that I cannot be moved--more that I will not be moved.

So I write.

Incredibly good sleep last night...possibly because I was so peaceful and fulfilled at the close of my day.

I had time for writing and reading and listening to great music--I was in a yummy state when I turned in to sleep.

This morning I want to explore procrastination by looking at my own life and the ways in which I procrastinate.

It's not that I think procrastination is entirely bad or something to avoid altogether--sometimes procrastination saves us from something but then does it become hesitation...or contemplation...hmmm...how to distinguish? Perhaps by the intention behind the action or inaction--they look different, right? Moot and beside the point.

Ah, but I digress (or procrastinate).

Areas in which I am actively procrastinating:

Developing pictures

I'm two years behind
I have no good excuse because I have a prepaid plan and could order anytime without having to fork out the money--money has been forked.

Writing a business plan

Though it is quite possible that the studio I had in mind is spoken for by people with more money than I, there are certainly other studios or even room for me to start fresh.

Cleaning my house

The animal hair is killing me but seems too big a problem to take on in a single afternoon (excuse).
The living room, den and my bedroom need to dusted...desperately.
Bathroom--gross. Don't even get me started. But technically, that's Jen's job so perhaps this should be noted on her own list.

Arranging termite treatment

Really? Like this is an area I need to play with? You'd think I'd have a bit more motivation.

So there it is--I've laid it all out. If I continue to procrastinate in these areas when I have so courageously admitted fault, accepted ownership, and, for Christ's sake, made a list--then I am recklessly negligent.

If I never post again on above items, you can rest assured that I took no active measures and have probably added to that list.

Ooh...the cliffhanger.

Thoughts from the journey...

2008-08-02T23:03:00.004-04:00

I'm writing past the guilt tonight, writing through the angst, the call of me as mom--at least, the call of me as mom as I interpret it to be.

I am my biggest critic, my worst enemy, my highest peak and my toughest challenge. But as I write that, can that be half bad?

Today has been a great day--an emotional day but totally fulfilling, as if I touched every corner of my internal landscape.

I am SO in search of something right now--open to the moments as they come to me, sitting back, taking it in...doing well to ride the middle space--not tipping too far to either extreme of crushing sadness or intoxicating elation.

It's all good.

I'll be there again--next week perhaps, or in a minute. My passion overtakes me from time to time...most of the time...usually.

But here...in this time, for this period...I ride the middle--watching for signs, listening for cues, following clues...open. I remain open.

Good things are coming.

Ahh...

Anyway, it's 11:20 PM. I just finished a movie that I was hoping to be my next "Feast of Love". Sometimes, rarely, a movie speaks to me--speaks into a corner of my inside that waits for this sort of whisper. This was "Feast of Love" for me and tonight, I thought it might be "My Blueberry Nights".

No suck luck, no such chance.

It was good--interesting characters but very little pull in. I was so not impressed with Nora Jones as an actress. Like, was her musical contribution conditional? Was she doled a role for trade?

She's alright but alright does not an actress make.

Perhaps I expected too much--that's a lot of pressure for a movie to have to speak to the corners of one's insides.

That's a funny sentence.

'Night

Emotion Work

2008-08-01T20:02:00.003-04:00

As I sit down to write, to channel my thoughts onto the screen before me, to wade through the words as I seek out the adequate, dare I say, perfect structure of expression, I feel guilty.

I am so devoted to my children, so hyper-aware of my impact on them and the opportunities inherent in each moment that I am frequently struck by guilt when I'm not with them, interacting, entertaining, educating, talking with, listening to, working for.

If only there were some sort of formula for the proper use of time toward child-rearing.

Yeah right.

So each thought that I have is interrupted by the pull, the feeling of angst building inside as they play in another room, occupying themselves while mommy writes, thinks, reads...hell, while mommy breathes. Unloads. Unwinds.

I don't have my late nights to unfold into any more--I'm too damn tired. 11:00 at night and I'm looking for my pillow through heavy lids and a tired body.

I miss my late nights--it was time that I felt I could have without feeling as if I was taking it away from someone else...them.

There's a sociological term for what I'm dealing with--I'll have to look it up.

Hmmm...Now that I've written that, my curiosity is peaked...I'll have to go scope the bookshelf. Otherwise, I'll make up my own.

Aha!

'Emotion work' coined by Arlie Hochschild.

I knew it existed man--I read her like the bible in grad school.

Emotion work: relates to the unpaid emotional work that a person undertakes in their relationships with family and friends. Examples of emotion work include showing affection, apologizing after an argument, bringing up problems that need to be addressed in an intimate relationship or any kind of interpersonal relationship, and making sure the household runs smoothly. Cultural norms often imply that emotion work is reserved for females.

SO not my words. I nabbed from the web--Wikipedia to be exact, which no good researcher ever admits but in this respect, I can because I have studied enough Arlie Hochschild and others to know that this definition of emotion work is dead on.

I'm done for now. The guilt won.

Rainer Maria Rilke

2008-07-31T19:49:00.002-04:00

Below, what I think of love but could not muster the words for written by my new favorite poet--the love I dream of, the love I want:

"The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky."

"For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been given to us, the ultimate, the final problem and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation."

"I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other. "

"You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment. All the immense images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and un- suspected turns in the path, and those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of the gods-- all rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me. You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house-- , and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,-- you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening... "

"Think... of the world you carry within you."

Only now

2008-07-31T11:42:00.002-04:00

Lately, life has passed me so quickly. I can remember how days used to linger and moment-to-moment appreciation was real and something I practiced.

Perhaps it's the crazy schedule I'm keeping but I miss my children, I miss our leisure. I miss curling up with books and games and passing time.

I miss really hearing what they say. This is something I'm actively practicing today--to stop and look them in their eyes and listen. How freakin' hard is that? How busy am I that I can't look at them and hear them?

Through intention that I am cultivating moment-to-moment today, I plan to make the most of this day. First, I'm taking time for me because without a healthy and centered me, there will be no looking in the eyes for them and certainly no hearing them.

I'm reading a book with a cup of chicory--while the rice cooks. Taking the time to actually read the words and find a meaning.

Then it's lunch time--back into mom mode but I'll try to prepare the food without haste and with appreciation that it's here, that we have food to prepare and that I have children to feed.

At some point, yoga must be figured in...perhaps this evening.

But for now, I read, I breathe and think only of the moment I am in.

There's a time for looking forward and there's a time for looking back, but that time is not today. Today, there can be only now.

15 minutes 'til dinner

2008-07-19T20:06:00.002-04:00

I am determined to write--something, anything!

Taught yoga this evening. I was teaching at the very school I certified at and, no pressure, my teacher was in class w/a new cohort of students coming through.

Sadly, I had a small class--3 students but 9 w/the teacher trainees. I had hoped to fill the place and impress her but even I have noticed my numbers dwindling in that class. I try not to take it to heart, it is summer after all but the bottom line is, I teach a different brand of yoga than the other teachers of her studio.

Less talking, less alignment language and more encouragement to go inside, stay inside, listen to your body's wisdom, etc.

I was ToTaLLy nervous with her there because I know my style has changed since I left her class--I'm gravitating toward an authentic yogic experience. Not that this particular studio is not authentic, yoga is yoga, right? I just want more, rather, I want different. I want student's to have their own experience--not one I tell them to have.

Ah well.

Got up early to talk to my daughter this morning. I have been able to tell lately that she needs me, she needs me to look her in the eyes and ask about life. I've been busy teaching and making a path for myself that I've cheated the children.

It felt good to talk to her, to really hear her and look her in the eyes.

Need to go check on dinner--it's 8 here and we're just now getting there.

Love,
Me

Passing Time...

2008-07-10T12:34:00.005-04:00

I have neglected this blog sorely as of late, which speaks to a neglect of my soul, my self. Writing is my passion and when it falls by the wayside of life, a part of me falls there with it.

The spiritual piece of me has been moderately nourished with the concentration of yoga and yogic studies in my life. I'm practicing on a daily basis--the physical asanas and the practice of mindfulness. Meditation/quiet reflection time is something I usually incorporate into my asana practice--if I sit, I get distracted. I think of bills, the kids outside the room I sit in, the dog, "has she been walked?", dinner plans, "do I have any celery in the crisper?", money, "can I afford to buy that business?" and whatever else comes up in the silence. I need to work on this.

Breath creates space. I read this in "YinSights", a text on Yin Yoga that I'm reading. When I breathe, it certainly creates space, space that is immediately filled with thought.

The physical piece of me is nourished as well through my asana practice and my mental stimulation from the study, so what of my writing? What side of me is that?

It is my heart center. The center of me where passion lives, barely a simmer. And passion is quiet, unobtrusive--she waits her turn. Sometimes, she musters the strength to stand her ground after a lifetime of neglect and oversight and she stares into the eyes of her beholder, who, upon sensing her presence, has a quiet epiphany--a revelation too late in it's revealing. There is no more time and there is a realization of what could have been...if only.

I don't want to have to face her that way, I want for a better connection between myself and passion. I want to heed her presence, to hear her soft whisper and turn when she taps on the shoulder.

As a mother, my life is dictated by taps on my shoulder, calls for my attention, templates for my time.

As a person with an inalienable right to life and all of its living, I have to remind myself of me from time to time. There is obligation there too. More than obligation. It is inherent, it is necessity, it is akin to breathing and a beating heart.

Passion and I sustain one another and the force of that connection and preservation means that we can also be our greatest force of opposition, that which can hinder or even annihilate the other.

I don't want to finally notice her when I have little life left to live. I can't imagine the pain of knowing that I was ultimately my greatest barrier to all that I could've been, all that I could've done.

Toothcare & Plastic Yogurt Tubs?

2008-07-08T12:47:00.011-04:00

Intrigued?

As was I.

Lately, I have become a discriminating consumer--really looking close at the companies I buy from and their products, even paying more if I need to for better ethics and practices. I let my dollar speak for me; it's a universal language.

When I was introduced to Recycline, I thought, it's about time because it was only a matter of time.

Recycline is a maker of eco-friendly household items and here are their core principles, taken directly from their website (http://www.recycline.com/):

Preserve products are made from 100% recycled plastics and 100% post-consumer paper. By using recycled materials, we save energy, preserve natural resources and create an incentive for communities to recycle.

All of our plastic products are recyclable, either through our postage-paid labels and mailers (toothbrushes and razor handles) or at the curb in communities that recycle #5 plastic.

We make our products in the USA, so that we can ship them shorter distances, using less fuel and limiting our environmental footprint.

We don’t test on animals. Period.

Preserve products are made to last – and to look good doing it.

Recycline makes razors, toothbrushes, flavored toothpicks, tableware, food storage, cutting boards and a few other household/kitchenware items.

I tried the toothbrush which was, thanks to the forward thinking of Recycline, made from recycled yogurt cups, some of which are from Stonyfield Farms yogurt, and better than that, Recycline includes a postage paid mailer for the consumer to return the toothbrush for recycling when it reaches it's life capacity--AT NO CHARGE TO THE CONSUMER.

Check out the bristles cleaning my pearly whites lately:

http://www.recycline.com/toothbrush.html

Target is selling them for $2.04 and Recycline has coupons on their website for several of their products.

What impressed me the most is that I didn't have to sacrifice a quality toothbrush for my eco-mania, I was able to have both. Better still? The toothbrush comes in a handy travel case--no wasted paperboard or plastic casing for this brush and the case gets recycled right along with the brush to be born again into plastic lumber for picnic tables, boardwalks and decks.

Dare I say, I'm smitten?

To say the least...

2008-07-06T09:04:00.008-04:00

as I've made a habit of doing here, my life has been busy. I have had NO time to myself and when I have managed to squelch some out, I waste it or veg from utter exhaustion.

I have become a working mom--well, I've always worked, that's what we moms do but as of late, I work a lot more outside of the house for pay. I'm teaching yoga 6 days a week and still on call as a rape advocate 1 day and 1 night a week.

I have no choice but to have this schedule of mine so racked full of paid labor--student loans are due this month. I have extended for as long as I can, no more extensions allowed in my future--it is time.

Why I have them at all is another story for another time but the sound bite is this: stay-at-home mother finds herself without the husband she once depended on, the one who vowed to stay and provide and nurture, and she returns to school for an education and access to loans enabling her to be the presence she always planned and wanted to be in her dear children's lives.

The shitter is this, if I don't pay my student loans, I will have everything in my life seized and every dollar in my future garnished. He doesn't pay child support for children he fathered and no one notices but me.

The government gets a lot of free rides from us moms--this is just one more freakin' turn on the Ferris Wheel as I see it.

Coming back from that little rant, that has clearly been sitting at the surface needing voice, I have enjoyed several weeks of relative financial freedom. Well, it's more like a vacation because when on vacation, you go away and eventually return. We've had some spurts of unexpected money that has cushioned us and in between the cushions we come right back to where we always reside--shit broke.

I have enjoyed picking up dinner here and there instead of cooking, buying a cup of coffee a few mornings a week throwing caution to the wind, stocking up on bulk items from our local Corporate-Co and paying bills that might typically be ranked in order of importance. The ride is almost over.

We have one more stimulus check coming but because of other expenses, most necessary and some frivolous, that check is paying our mortgage this month. It is spoken for and the tight reigns of my financial life pull me back in check.

It will be alright--if I look at my life from the outside in, I see these patterns. The ups followed by downs followed by ups followed by downs. The certainty is there, this certainty that I long for, this assurance or "knowing"--it has been and will forever be there all the time. When I am up, I am sure to come down yet when I am down, I am sure to come up.

The trick is finding peace in those variations, those fluctuations of spirit, mood and situation.

In yoga, I tell my students to ride the breath--when in poses that challenge your mind and your body, ride the breath, notice the breath and how it creates the subtle changes of alignment, how it focuses the mind.

So I breathe...and live.

I have always been (and still am) the person who likes hitting rock bottom in Monopoly or any other board game with colorful money involved. Every time I play I'm okay with financially sinking and in retrospect I see that I enjoy the creativity sparked from necessity. My senses heighten and my mind clears and necessity dictates my actions.

My best papers were always written the night before and my best actions come forth when the chips are down.

I am a creative soul and money, it's presence or absence in my life, will not be my demise because in pouring my heart, soul and labor into my children their entire lives, I figure, I am well into a sweet little IRA.

Mommy wants an apartment in NY with a rooftop garden plot and a monthly allowance enough to sustain me in-between your visits.

Love,
Mom

The Art of Listening

2008-06-15T22:37:00.002-04:00

Look in their eyes, hear their words, understand how they feel--give them ALL of you for that moment they speak.

More Garden Woes

2008-06-08T10:22:00.004-04:00

First, the weight of one of my butternut squash, that I failed to fashion a hammock for in time, snapped the vine. I lost about three feet of vine and two budding squash--one medium size well on its way to the table and one strong baby.

Lesson learned--all remaining squash are in nylon hammocks and vines secured to bamboo stakes.

Second, this morning I take my walk outside to check-in with my plot. I start with the porch garden, looking in on the seedlings, cantaloupe and butternut, then the herbs, peppers. Looking good. No frog burrows this morning from our resident porch frog. Then I make my way to the raised bed--ah. Bees burrowing their little busy bodies into the succulent centers of our sunflowers--there are about 10. Beautiful. I notice an extra splash of yellow in an out of place sort of place--I look in closer, excited by the possibility that we have a new bloom. Not exactly.

The yellow splash that I spy is not a new flower like I had anticipated but the head of a mature sunflower that has been snapped in half at mid-stem, no doubt by hungry, greedy ass little squirrels feasting on the bountiful center of seed. Argh.

Upon closer inspection, I see that they have completely removed the heads of two other dwarf variety sunflowers edging the plot. Argh. Fuckers.

I have to tell my kids, these were their babies. As sad as it is, it helps them understand the anguish I feel over the worm infestation as it devastates the plants I have nurtured from seed.

We have declared war--at least a firm resistance. They are earth's creatures after all, simply looking for food albeit overeating for sure.

Cayenne pepper seems to be the go-to measure of force to deter the sneaky rats, ah...um...squirrels.

Moving forward in our experimental gardening venture, we have grown in knowledge yet again.

But really, can't we just get there already?

My Challenge to Every Human Being...

2008-06-07T10:50:00.005-04:00

...especially the ones groaning about the costs of food, try growing it your damn self.

No really. TRY.

Asparagus cost too much for you? Grow a bundle. Better than that, I further challenge you to grow a bundle without lading it with toxic chemicals to fend off nasty critters ready to devastate your plot.

For that matter, grow anything naturally--you'll find that you appreciate the effort involved in bringing your edibles into fruition.

I have a new found appreciation, hell, it's damn near idol worship, of farmers and gardeners everywhere.

In this one week, my poor little plot has been invaded by hornworms--the tomatoes are the real victims here as those slithery little bastards help themselves minute-by-minute to their foliage, reducing it to skeletal, web-like remains.

What the hell to do? I'm gardening organically so I can't just blast the fudgers. I did find one spray at my local corporate-big-beast-we-offer-token-organic-supplies warehouse, but get this: The spray wears a label naming it "for organic gardening" yet when you peel the sticky label back to read the real-deal, it announces that the product is TOXIC TO BEES.

Really? Toxic to bees? Bees need anymore shit right now? Aren't they just trying to keep their colonies from collapsing?

So....

I take my search to the Internet and find a spray identifying itself as "Caterpillar Killer" and apparently a recommended choice of organic gardeners and, well, bees for sure :-)

I pay 12.00 for the product and $9.00 to ship it here--Jesus-freakin-Christ. I know $21.00 seems a small price but having already sunk nearly $400.00 into my gardening venture thus far, I need a fucking life boat NOT an overpriced caterpillar kool-aid.

The best part of this chapter in my little story is this--by the time the kool-aid gets here, my plants are likely to be sucked dry of their life by the hornworms. My only option to keep some sort of reign on the fudgers is to pluck the visible ones off throughout the day and slice them in half with a stick or bludgeon them with a rock reducing them to green paste and leaving them for ant food.

Yum, right?

12 hours later in my day...

Fortunately, I scoped the foliage tonight and found less than I have been finding--only two stems packed with babies, that I ground to mush, and a few leaves with mid-sizers that I sliced in half. I am, forever more, the hornworm assassin. Tell your friends you little bastards.

This makes me think that I can potentially stall their progression until my deadly, buff kool-aid arrives.

I can only hope--other wise this has been not only a painful lesson as I mourn my lost life but an expensive one.

Growers of organic food everywhere, I bow to you and will do less wincing during my market trips from here forward AND I will enjoy the fruit of your labor, forever more, in awe of your commitment and bounty.

Down by the banks...

2008-06-02T19:16:00.002-04:00

...of hanky panky where the butternut hangs all swanky-swanky.

Yeah. So I've been having loads of hanky-panky with my butternut flowers, delicately taking the yellow powder from the stamen of the male flowers and transferring it to the pistil of the female flowers with a small paint brush. Ideally, these fancy terms I'm throwing out here are the correct names of the the parts I'm doinking on a daily basis.

It's cool though--the female flowers that I am not able to 'pollinate' shrivel and drop off but the ones that are fertilized are plumping up like a round pregnant belly.

The Daily Grind

2008-05-26T21:38:00.006-04:00

Surely, I jest.

I commute to work and the drive is roughly 30-45 minutes, with traffic for the first half only and c'mon, I'm driving to the beach. Not a bad gig, right?

When I arrive at the studio, I unlock the building and roll out my mat. Then it's time for my first morning break.

I begin my 'round the corner' walk to the beach and start the time when my feet hit the sand. I like to give myself a solid 30-40 minute wake-up walk.

I am in awe of the crashing waves before me, the smell of the ocean hanging heavy in the air and the feel of the sand on my bare feet. It feels like freedom and salvation all at the same time, it feels like hope and promise.

I think I stopped loving the beach a couple of years after I moved here--a single gal of 18. Where it had once represented escape and refuge for me, after my first child it represented sand in my car, sand in her diaper, a mad supply of towels to keep wet butts off my car seats, a thousand supplies stuffed into an over-capacity diaper bag equipped to anticipate 2,000 different scenarios but never actually prepared for one, watching and waiting for her to dash into water with a mind and strength of its own, the salt water in the eye cry and if her dad came along, his sandy feet in my car too and another towel for his wet bum because we know who cleaned it up after every beach outing.

I'm falling in love again. As I walk there 3 mornings a week, alone and free, I am drawn back into the refuge of this place and I know I am blessed to be here for, of all things, my 'job'.

Once I'm down the beach about 20 minutes, then I turn around for the journey back so I have time to prepare for class.

Soak it up, take it in, watch for shells under my feet but also scope the vitality of the water--the time passes like a vapor dissipating before you have any real sense that it was there.

I turn for one last look out over the beach, one last contemplation of the vast ocean and I turn to leave.

Back in the studio, I unlock the doors, light the incense, start the music as the gentle chants fill the space and then I wait.

I wait for my students and I smile because I know how lucky I am--how right I am for this.

They trickle in, we greet each other and I'm so glad they've come. I'm glad that they want this as much as I want to offer it up

We move through our practice, we breathe, they make it their own and all too soon, it's over.

I lead them into relaxation, mist their space with lavender, prepare a reading and wait for their bodies to rejuvenate in Savasana.

We close our yoga circle by coming back to the seated position from which we started, holding the final moments of inwardness. Eyes open and we bow, Namaste.

They trickle out and I walk across the street to get a cup of coffee for my drive back home from a morning's work--ah, the daily grind. Thank goodness.

Tina, Tina Quite Verbena, How Does Your Garden Grow?

2008-05-23T20:49:00.018-04:00

I am inspired, by another blogger I've recently corresponded with, to add pictures of my own garden to my blog. This is the full-frontal of my raised bed--the pollinator seductresses clad in terra-cotta pots.

A close-up of my pollinator seductresses--how sexy and irresistible are they?

This is a side view that shows my big-boy tomatoes in the foreground and cherries (tomatoes, that is) beyond them--basically, a giant green foliage cluster!

My nasturtiums fighting for their space but doing mighty fine.

Red climbers doing what they do--they are flowering these vibrantly red flowers and vibing me to keep the butternut vine from taking them over!

Beyond the sunflower I have moved aside, you'll see my jalapeno just trying to be a pepper and fighting for a bit-o-sunshine.

Front view of the butternut going nuts.

This is the rear view of the other butternut. I have to check on these sneaky, territorials daily and unwind their vines from the surrounding garden occupants.

Here is my parsley, sprouting up from seed and to the right, an orange seed hiding under the soil, awaiting it's debut!

To the left, in order of appearance, behold my basil, cilantro sproutlets grown from seed and more basil.

Catnip grown from seed by my little man--a favorite of squirrels and stray, well, cats.

My children's father

2008-05-20T22:41:00.006-04:00

My posts as of late have been peppered with references to him. It has been almost four years since he talked with the kids, longer since he's seen them and I found him on My Space.

I wrote earlier that we had heard from his son--the one he put up for adoption 19 years ago. This confrontation, of sorts, prompted me to talk with the kiddos about their dad--were they even still interested in knowing him, talking to him, seeing him?

Resounding YES.

Before I could even ask my questions, their answer was yes.

I was determined to find him, for them and partly, in a way, sort of, for me. I don't remember making it easy for him--and by that, I don't mean I stood in the way or didn't pick up the phone or limited his visits. I mean, I didn't make it easy for him. He's a certain sort of guy--passionate and deep and because of his life story, vulnerable to emotional panic or withdraw.

I was typical--I constantly asked about child support, reminding him of his financial obligations to the children he fathered, reminding him that I was not the only parent, that he had to assume some level of responsibility, that he should be just as concerned for their well-being as I was, that he had to be consistent. Blah, ex-wife, mother-of-his-children, blah.

Mind you, he has NEVER paid child support of any significance. The first year of our separation, my attorney had child support and alimony drafted from his income every pay day but after that year, I have maybe received a total of $300.00 from him for the last 7 years of their lives. I'm here to tell ya, I've spent a bit more than that on raising them.

Anywho--in resurrecting him from absent-father land, I resolved to let it go. He's never going to assume any level of responsibility for them, much less financial, and he's never going to take their care as seriously as I do. Bottom-line.

In the wake of my conversation with the kiddos about finding their father, I began talking to them about him, this man they knew only through faded memories of their own, pictures embodying their disconnect and what I passed along.

It suddenly became important to me that they know they came from love--regardless of what happened to him and I later down our road, they were of love. A deep, passionate love between two people desperate for each other at one time.

In retelling these stories to them, I think I became attached to a memory of him from then. My emotions were hard to categorize, they were blurred and out of context.

In my defense, I never got closure in our relationship. One day he came home from work, 8 hours late, and said he was leaving--we needed a divorce. My world crashed--I was at the lowest place I'd ever been and sinking with every action he took toward leaving us behind. He never looked back.

I didn't think I was going to surface from that--I had meaningless sex with meaningless people, drank too much, ate too little and damn near lost my will to mother my children. It was a long road back for me from that period of my life.

Then, finally, closure.

After reconnecting with their dad for about two weeks over the phone, I invited him to come stay in my home (because I knew he couldn't afford a hotel) and spend time with the kiddos for the weekend.

I stayed close. No way was I trusting him alone--after this long, I don't even know him.

We watched movies, went to little man's play--all three shows--and they slept together on the futon. I knew how important that was to them.

Saturday, when we were driving home from the last play of little mans, I asked their father to go walking with me when we got home. I needed a walk and wouldn't dare walk alone after dark.

While walking he told me that he was sorry for the way he left--he said I didn't deserve that and it's bothered him every since.

Closure.

Closure is such an odd thing really and, in the end, unnecessary. I didn't need him to take responsibility in order to know already that he had been wrong. But I can honestly say, that I just got over my divorce last year, the process and the experience that is, I've been over our lost love for longer.

But it took me that long to mourn, to mourn him, to mourn for the interuption to our family, to long for him, hate him and forgive him and to redefine my new family. In forgiving him, I think I thought I loved him like I did then but that wasn't it at all. I love him in a new way. I love him as a human being not strong enough to take the first step toward his children without me. I love him because they love him and because they resemble him and because they have certain characteristics of his--she has the shape of his face, he has his eyes. She has his toes and he has his dimples.

How could I look at them everyday, loving them everyday and harbor ANY resentment or ill-feelings toward him?

I couldn't reconcile it in my heart.

So his acceptance of blame and expression of remorse was a seal on my heart, already pieced back together nicely. And his visit was a firm reminder that I've already walked that road--the scenery hasn't changed, the path has crumbled through the years making it even more treacherous and my destination is transcendental now because the theme of my living is greatness.

I am more.

Verbal Diarrhea: Part II

2008-05-19T19:24:00.002-04:00

I'm done.

Verbal Diarrhea: Part I

2008-05-17T23:02:00.009-04:00

Ever been a victim of?

Ever spewed it to your ex?

Ever said SO much fucking shit AND kept talking past the point when you should've shut the FUCK up?

Ever dealt with emotions that you've buried deep inside yourself, for yourself, where you don't even know what you feel, who you feel for or why and suddenly you're on this plane of existence--it's shaky, it's foreign, it's familiar, it's real, it's illusion, it's tumultuous and crazy and inexplicable and spawned from nothing but maybe everything.

Did you ever have someone giving you advice who is SO categorically uNqUaLiFiEd? A person so unfit to speak an ounce of alleged wisdom that their tongue should be removed?

I can't explain what happened tonight, I can't explain why I opened my mouth--I think sometimes I need to hear my own words, to talk something over with myself in order to make sense of something myself, to say something out loud regardless of who I share my voice with. There seems to be but one requisite--said 'hearer' must breathe and walk and, apparently, be inextricably tied to my past. Of my past so as to be THE past, like, THE story that gets told. Whatever.

I'm not being totally honest here. In fact, I'm evading the truth because I don't want to admit the ugly truth--the awful, embarrassing, ugly, backward truth.

For one second or a few, for one day or several, if at all, I think I wanted something back--something I haven't had in a while. Something I haven't wanted in a while. Someone. Him.

It's best explained by understanding that the past few weeks have been something of a soul-shake, a breath-quake--for me, for the kids and surely my honey though we rarely talk about it.

For fuck's sake--it's been cRaZy. I can't even muster the words to categorize the level of crazy, to capture the experience for what it's really worth.

I have felt every emotion available in my arsenal of emotions and I have felt them backwards and I have felt them sideways and I have felt them deep, raw and unprotected, unguarded, exposed. Totally exposed. I have felt them alone, inside, this total internal trip because that's how I roll--this lone warrioress that I suppose myself to be.

But in this total eclipse of the heart, this total darkening, shadowing, I surfaced cleansed of all idiotic notions heretofore unspoken.

It's like, for the past couple weeks, I've had SO many questions that I didn't even know what I wanted to ask. I had so many thoughts, I didn't know what to think. And the emotions tied to all of these questions and thoughts, these emotions that crossed spans of time and criss-crossed again, making them almost current, almost relevant again, almost...real? Like I awoke from a coma where time had moved me forward but my heart was parked in another era.

Only there was no coma and time was steadfast.

"Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you think everything's okay"~~Alanis Morissette

Sure as shit.

I embrace my compulsion to speak what's on my mind and I even further embrace and exert my right to experiment within the spectrum of my emotions, to try them out and try them on.

There are times when I think I am a mess--a total wreck. And then there are times when I remind myself, usually in the aftermath, that I am alive. I am just alive and as such, I am open to mishaps and foibles and prone to travel the paths of various emotions, these little links to consciousness that connect us to others, to self and beyond.

As this living being that I am, I am subject to myself and all that implies.

My children's brother?

2008-05-02T22:56:00.003-04:00

I just talked to my ex-husband's son and not the one we had together.

I'll start at the beginning.

My ex-husband is a phantom. He lives his life under the radar so it's not unusual that I would get a call from someone looking for him...like tonight.

I noticed a TN phone number on my caller id that I did not recognize but because I have family in TN, I picked up the phone.

The male voice on the other line asked for my ex-husband by his first name. Obviously, I responded that he had the wrong number and hung up.

I was marginally concerned that an individual was calling for him versus the usual business or creditor but swept it under the rug...for 10 minutes.

My heart leapt when the phone rang again from the same number. This time, when I answered, the caller apologized first and then asked if I knew ** ** (name of my ex), it was very important he said.

I explained that he was my ex but I had not heard from him in over 3 years.

"This is his son."

My heart fell--I knew of this adoption so I knew, from what he shared, that he was telling the truth.

This 19 year-old young man just had a son himself and is trying to find his father, a man that makes a life of leaving loved ones buried in the past with not so much as a glance back in their direction--even those whose diapers he changed, whose little fingers grasped his own as they were taking their first shaky steps, those whose first word was da-da and they meant it for him.

I gave him all the information I had which amounted to very little.

I didn't tell him he was chasing a ghost.

The Family has Left the House

2008-05-02T16:01:00.003-04:00

I have been alone since about 9:00 this morning and ya wanna know something? I'm okay. I'm actually really enjoying myself. It's freakin' fantastic!

I drank coffee, wrote, read email, responded to email, checked on my garden, ate lunch, watched TV, took a shower, took a power nap on the sofa, wrote some more, emailed some more...

I'd like to have higher aspirations for my time alone but in the wake of a pretty scary migraine episode yesterday, one that impaired my vision for about an hour, I'm taking it easy today.

Chillin'

I would like to practice yoga before the night gets away from me, maybe make a run to the grocery store but in truth, I'm waiting on a call back from a yoga studio. They made me an offer and I countered their offer with my own, what I think are fair, terms~~now it's a waiting game.

I SO want this.

Sure, it's a long drive, about 40 minutes to the beach, but great experience and exposure that I really want to have under my 'yoga strap'. But I'll be okay either way~~I sort of have to be. But I really want this.

More later cuz' I got nothin' but time...

Nature Write

2008-04-28T15:57:00.005-04:00

The kids and I took thirty minutes to observe nature from our window during the rain. Then we wrote from our inspirations and shared our writing with each other.

The tree stands barely cloaked in its foliage, receiving new growth green sprout by sprout. They come to the seeds numerous times a day--fluttering to stay atop one feeder or finding just the right method of entry for the other. Blue-Jays and Cardinals, or Squirrels.

The Mourning Doves prefer to stay close to land, selecting from the seeds that fall from the feeder, a result of seeming greed and haste--or the squirrels.

Determined little creatures they are, the squirrels. They don't know that the feeders are not meant for them and they snub their intended food. They don't even care that one feeder was designed SPECIFICALLY to keep them out. They simply circled and circled, studied and studied, tried and tried--they eventually gained their entry and feasted on seed, bird seed.

There is a lesson in this squirrel behavior--if you've never been told that some things can't happen, won't happen or of the general nature of impossibility, improbability or unlikelihood, nothing is out of your reach. Rather, ambitions are merely paths to puzzles that must be solved, conundrums that have a solution for the determined.

Like the squirrel who circles, studies, tries and succeeds only to look out on the humans from the inside of the squirrel-proof bird feeder.

The Blue Jay flies onto the tree and off again--his colors darker and more vibrant because of the rain. A nibble of seed, a look around and off again.

The Woodpecker is our more unusual guest today, a highlight that we do not get often enough but what a pleasure to observe the deep red-capped head and skillful beak hunting out food on the trunk of the pine tree.

Not one has found the window feeder yet or perhaps it's that they do not dare its proximity to the window but I hold to the hope of 'build it they will come' from Field of Dreams.

More appropriately, Feeder of Dreams--it has been hung, now will they come?

I have my money on the squirrels.

Blog posts as of late...

2008-04-28T09:24:00.003-04:00

...have been sort of, um, stale. I don't mean to be. I try to trudge forward with my writing, whether or not what I have to say is of any real value or depth. This, a suggestion of Ariel Gore in her latest "how to write" book and probably of writers ad infinitum before her. It works for me but does mean that, from time to time, my writing is dull.

In relation to my honey's car trouble and our latest BAM--this morning I have something that I didn't have last night, though I was nearing it a bit before bed as I tried to articulate my emotional stance here on my blog (see prior post).

Perspective.

I have a little perspective on this issue in the greater orbit of my life.

I have a fighter spirit, I've talked about this before. There's not much that can take me down...for long anyway. I've made a life of overcoming. But I'm also reading this book, I'm afraid it sounds self-helpish but what-the-fuck-ever.

"A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle--there's a plug I suppose but it's unintended because I bring it up only to mention what I read that coupled with my internal power to swing me into perspective.

He writes: "Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having..."

Now, I don't believe for a second that there is an external force subjecting me to experiences for the sake of shaping my character and fortifying my soul BUT I do believe that I stand to learn from whatever comes my way, to find the power within myself to step outside of the emotion of the event and observe my response or determine my response.

I do not have to be a passive player or an object of my life--I can choose to be the force of my life, the actor deciding the action.

Tolle's discussion on the above takes place within another discussion of "stuff" and the value we put on having stuff, having more than someone else, having better than someone else, etc. and how we allow this "stuff" to affect the feelings we have about ourselves: "I have, therefore, I am."

Thinking in these terms, it really allows me to release and let go. To move beyond this feeling of inadequacy that plagues me when money is tight. Tight finances do not imply or mean that I am inadequate, I simply have to give more thought to what comes into our home or orbit.

Ya know, it's not that I consider myself an eternal optimist, I don't. Optimism is the wrong label here. I simply get the cyclical nature of life, "to everything, turn, turn, turn"--that's just how it rolls. I will have distress and I will have bliss. It is as certain as I will inhale or exhale.

That is the promise of life, the certainty I can count on.

Turns out, dirt's expensive

2008-04-27T22:50:00.005-04:00

I have a garden--a raised garden. My honey was working all day on the construction of my raised bed. We rose early and headed to Lowe's for the supplies, to the tune of $140.00 but we got:

Organic garden soil, wood for the frame, nails and brackets for the "construction", a jalapeno plant and vine tomato plants

Then, after we realized that the first 8 cubic feet of soil was not going to touch the space we needed to fill, honey headed back to Lowe's for 16 cubic feet MORE of soil for another $60.00.

WOW! Who knew dirt was so pricey? I certainly didn't but it was worth it--I've been on a cloud all day knowing that I have my garden space to tend, a place where my little plastic cupped seedlings can FINALLY spread their roots. They are my other babies. So, yeah, sort of pathetic--whatever.

If this is where the story of my day ended, it would be bliss but, alas, it's not. At the end of our day, honey was heading out to get gas so it was one less thing she had to do before work in the morning and BAM. Her car died with no warning and wouldn't power back up.

Fucking fantastic.

I really wonder what I've done or not done to attract this level of bullshit. Is there a reason at all? Are we working on total randomness in life or does our energy put out determine the energy that comes back?

If the former is true, well, then hell. Take what comes and deal, right? But if the latter is true, then what gives man?

Ya know, I'm not going to sweat it--it's probably just the battery. And, sure, it should be an easy fix--in another household. Unfortunately, we have a garden to show for this last payday and no leftovers. We'll be sharing a car until next payday and hope that there's an extra bit for whatever car repair we need.

I'm an adult--I'll be SO glad when things like car repairs and gardens, simultaneously, don't threaten our financial security or more accurately, our ability to buy food.

But I've had my cry and I've had my dinner. I lined my garden tonight with the seedlings to map their placement. I swept the driveway and baked cookies. I kissed the faces of my children. I have another car to share for now and tonight, I'll lay my head on my pillow in my house.

I'll be fine. Because I want to, because I have to, because I need to.

Especially if the timing of the next shit-bomb is spaced appropriately from this one.

The Stagnation After Graduation

2008-04-25T23:01:00.004-04:00

Five days out of graduation with my yoga certification and still no bites in the studio realm. I'll be on sub lists in two studios. How often they actually call subs and how many down I am on the list preoccupies me.

I also listed on YogaFinder.com as a private instructor - I created rates and packages that are well below industry average - expanded my yoga blog to include my services as an instructor and designed business cards.

So - sure I've been busy and proactive but there has to be more I can do. What sucks is that I know I am going to have to take classes at these studios in order to show my face, get to know the teachers that will be calling me as a sub - in a word, network. Nevertheless, money I don't have.

This is SO not what I expected but it's cool. The veil is lifting and I'm not scared enough to run or give in.

I want this SO bad. I want to make a living out of this but at the same time, I want what I do to really make a difference in people's lives.

Patience is a good lesson on my yogic journey - why not start now, huh?

Feast of Love

2008-04-25T22:10:00.002-04:00

AMAZING movie - can't say enough.

I don't often watch movies again after seeing them once. What's the point?

But with this one, I felt compelled - as if I needed to learn something from it, take a lesson or a direction.

The movie is about love - the birthing of love, the ending of love, the rootedness of love and the humdrum of love - all set in lovely Oregon.

Something in it I needed to hear...to see, because I question every day of my life in love. I am miles from where I was, I crave life and think deeply about my existence, my point here on this earth and I look in her eyes for the same sort of hunger and quest but I find a void that I don't even think she knows exists.

I have certainly had, in my life on earth, my own feasts of love - I know I can again.

Lines of thought...

2008-04-18T09:40:00.007-04:00

The following are lines of thought that I want to continue, someway, somewhere.

It occurs to me that I can no more remember when she developed this independence than I can remember when the sweet little dimples disappeared from her knuckles. "One day they'll be gone," the Olan Mills photographer had said, "and you'll have these pictures to recall those precious little dimples." She photographed my daughter with her hand on a railing and her little face leaning in--her dimply knuckles frozen in time.

I still think about that conversation and the dimples--just the other day, I wondered where they had gone. All of a sudden noticing that they had faded from her now slender hands with long fingers.

She's beautiful. She's absolutely magnificent. She's pulling into herself and folding out into this stunning young lady afraid of nothing and capable of everything.

=============================================

As he laid on his back on the floor with his eyes closed awaiting my hands to touch him, I noticed how very small his mouth is still. I could see the babe in his face and I felt such warmth as I leaned in to kiss his forehead. This son of mine--so young, so innocent and naive.

It occurs to me that I've cradled him, I've coddled him more. She only had that for so long--having to share with another the love of her mother so early. Graciously stepping aside to make room for this force of life, my son, her brother. He acts his part, this little boy.

=============================================

As I watched the movie the other night, it occurred to me that I love fine lines and wrinkles on faces. His face was carved with them and they told a story of his life. During this thought, I remembered seeing a photograph of Helen Hunt on the NPR website and the close-up revealed her own facial lines. I couldn't stop looking at her, her life was written into those lines. Why would you want to erase those? To me, it's like a passport of where you've travelled--even if you've never left.

And I know, sometimes people have to talk themselves into embracing their wrinkles--they use trite humor and sentimentality as evidence of their peace with aging. Not me. It's not about making peace, it's about earning my place, recording my moments of expression be they joy, worry, pain or remorse. My face reminds me of all the times I've smiled, cried or fretted--the lines are place markers that say insert here, she's done this before. I can't surprise my face anymore.

Now ask me how I'm embracing the gravitational pull on my boobs and there's another story. I'd never go under the knife for any bodily altercation but if there's a pill that would stick these babies back in place, I'd take it.

At the rate I'm going, these saggy sacks are going to be at my belly button in no time and it occurs to me that for all my talk of lines and stories, that's one story I don't want told thank you very much.

The power of two little pills & other musings

2008-04-07T11:38:00.007-04:00

And now I'm ready to start my day. I had a really hard time falling asleep last night, the intensity of my all-day call out was of no help to finding calm respite in my tattered mind. Wow, if my mind was tattered from merely hearing the details, what of hers?

Nevertheless, every bump, scatter of cats and flipping on of lights outside my bedroom was startling me from sleep and just when I crept into the tingling escape of bare consciousness, my beeper beeped and I was on again at 1:30 in the morning. Fortunately, only a crisis call. I talked to her from my pillow until she was prepared to brave sleep herself.

This fragmented pattern of sleep resulted in a dull headache this morning--something that always zaps the zing right out of my ambitions. So I started the coffee pot, poured the red pills into my hand and admitted defeat only minutes from rising.

But now I'm on. I'm jazzed and ready. Lunch is making it's way to the stove--the brown rice needs more time than the rest so it will simmer for about 50 minutes. I sprinkled in red lentils for appeal. Later, I'll mix salmon with minced carrots and onions, whole wheat breadcrumbs, wheat bran, eggs and freshly grated romano cheese for salmon patties.

I'm still courting my cup of coffee, not as hot as the first cup but certainly worth sipping during my quiet time. The kids are working on math with instructions to move into reading time when they're done. I lit incense for effect--it's effect almost futile against the aroma of garlic rising from the steaming pot of brown rice, but ah well.

My hopes for the day are many, the reality of my day as yet unknown. I hope to venture through science together and read Moorchild. I found some pictures of moors online and showed them to the kiddos this morning so they can have an idea, a picture, in their minds of what a moor is exactly. Then I hope to have some journal writing based on a discussion question in our novel:

"The Moorchild is dedicated to all children who have ever felt different. Is this another way of saying that the book is dedicated to all children? Do you think every child--or adult--has felt different at some point in their lives? Have you?"

In light of my feelings with family this past week, I thought this question appropriate for ALL three of us to respond to--my difference among my own family was palpable.

Following our journal writing, my little man and I will work together to recreate the project I ruined as I packed the car for our trip home from family. I haven't written about this incident here yet. Now is as good a time as any I suppose so I might as well venture in; it's not as if I'm currently following any one line of thinking on this post.

His poster presentation of China was magnificent. Both kids did great, I couldn't have been more proud of them and I learned from them along the way. But back to little man. His was quite the accomplishment for a little guy with very little patience for detail. Thus, we worked over the course of about a month, really taking our time, preparing something he could learn from, be proud of and not hate in the end. We baby-stepped it.

I digress.

I was packing the car in the rain, tornado sirens in the distance and hail on the horizon. The winds were working against me at every turn and I was already emotional as I packed the car alone, something I haven't had to do in years because my honey always takes care of those details but she had stayed home to work. Anyway, his poster was already in the hatch spread across the pillows, the cooler and the duffel bag. I went to put something in the front seat but like an ass-idiot, I left the hatch open and wind caught his poster. It slid into the red-clay-mud-lake building around my car. (Worse, is that I had just scolded him for such absent mindedness when he shuffled something in the hatch and caused the poster to fall--only he caught it in time for just the corner to touch water. My own cluster-fuck-up resulted in a full on soak fest).

Standing in the rain, I cried as his words blurred down the poster, as his sweet little pictures ran away from their intended place and the edges of the various glue-mounted info-bits curled into the murky moisture on the poster.

All of his work, all of the time he spent preparing this for his presentation to family--his pride in every step of accomplishment. All of this wrecked by his saboteur mom.

Fucking fantastic.

I finally forgave myself after a good long breakdown on my father's porch. My dear dad was inside with a hairdryer attempting to salvage my wreck, which only made me cry harder when I saw the futility in his method. My little man came out to comfort me as I stood forlorn on against the wood railings of the porch. He put his little hand on my back and rubbed, "it's okay mama, it's not a big deal really, it's not important". I was so moved by his sweetness that I cried even more.

When I collected myself, I told him we would turn it into a family project and we would ALL work together until we recreated his project, just the way he had it or better if he wanted.

===========================================

It's later in the day from when I began this post and though we never got around to science or to the project, we had a great day. We'll get to science and project 'China re-do' tomorrow. And, yes, the journal entry too.

Today, however, was a good day for a spontaneous move on my part. We left the house on a whim to get my hair cut--I couldn't stand the short-hair-limbo another second as my neckline grew ever more undefined. Following my GREAT haircut and leaving so much cuter than I arrived, we made a run to the bank. On the way, we passed a park that we used to frequent and fondly recalled the fun we had, vowing to return soon.

Well, I decided to be someone other than the mom I usually am, the mom stocked full on 'vows', the "sometime" mom, the "soon" mom, the "in a minute" or "maybe" mom.

On our way home from the bank I detoured by the park we had passed, only a few miles from our house, and I parked in the street. The kids were asking what we were doing and I told them they were moving awfully slow for kids with only 30 minutes to play at the park.

Needless to say, they erupted from the car and we actually stayed 45 minutes--I would've stayed longer but I needed to page in by 5:00 and still wanted to have story time with the kiddos when we got home.

I felt so satisfied with myself for pulling something so spur-of-the-moment. I vow to do that more often. I love the mood it created for us and the tone it set for our evening.

Sometimes you ride the pain of a headache in the name of healthy choices and other times you dunk those powerful little bastards down the hatch in order to honor spontaneous inclinations.

I would say now that the reality of my day outlived the hopes I had for my day. No, we didn't get in all of the academics I had planned but we lived and that's the certainty in this house. We will live.

$35.00 until Payday

2008-04-06T10:26:00.002-04:00

I have some food items to work with already in the fridge/freezer and the cupboard but not enough to serve well-balanced meals for the next four days, so I will do some grocery shopping today with my last $35.00 (borrowed from my dearest daughter who takes tremendous joy in being able to loan me money--sweet soul).

I figure, I can buy some staples to couple with what I already have and manage to whip up some mama magic in the coming days. The following is my staples list, keep in mind the staples are organic so the prices are higher:

Bag of baby carrots=====$2.00
Wedge of Parmesan=======$4.00
Yellow onions===========$2.00
Gallon of milk==========$5.00
Dozen eggs==============$3.00
Tub of vanilla yogurt===$3.50
Bananas=================$2.00
Assorted fruit==========$9.00
-----------------------------
TOTAL==================$30.50

Oh la la, $4.50 to play with--whatever will I do with myself? I'm such a lucky girl, I'm such a savvy shopper, I'm a grocery diva with a head for stretching a dime. These and other such ego stroking self-told lies will be necessary in the coming days and months.

So what do I plan to do with the aforementioned staples? Well, I figure I can mince the carrots, onions and Parmesan together with some salmon, eggs and whole-wheat breadcrumbs for salmon patties over wild rice. Veggies, protein, grain, oh my!

I can use the yogurt with the granola and frozen blueberries that I already have for breakfasts or healthy snacks.

I have some frozen spinach which is always great in risotto and frozen broccoli that can pair well with just about anything--I'd say we've already made it until payday on that mother lode!

My cup runneth over.

Tightening the Purse Straps

2008-04-06T10:00:00.003-04:00

This month is going to be hard--a sort of hard like we have yet to feel. On our path to financial peace, I've cancelled ALL credit cards, which, for us, have always acted as a sort of emergency pull. Now they're gone. Well, use-proof anyway--they all still carry their balances until that FINAL payment.

What is different at this juncture is they have been closed. We've paid them off plenty of times in the past, carrying a zero balance for months, only to run them back up to the limit before the next tax season when we'd pay them off again.

I've noticed the pattern and refuse to mindlessly forfeit any more of my money to this dreadful cycle. They had to go--for good.

This forces us to live within our means, to be at peace within the minimal proceeds of our work. As I trek through this next month and possibly the next, I must be mindful that this is NOT forever. This is not my point of destination. I am more than that which I cannot afford.

I still have many outlets open to me for financial means. If ever I finish my master's thesis, I will have my M.S. (finally) and this alone affords me some level of hirability. In two short weeks, I will be certified in yoga teaching and can move forward, exploring the teaching opportunities available to me. Perhaps a studio of my own in the next few years...hmmm.

My point is, take a deep breath Tina. This will challenge every part of you. This will break you down in those moments when you feel despondent, when the hope appears to have been sucked from every molecule that sustains you. Hold on. You have certainly survived more than this and a month or two of rationing is not that which will take you down when you are so much more than the sum of your earnings.

Home

2008-04-06T00:35:00.004-04:00

We arrived, safely, back at home from a three day trip to see family.

It's always great to come home but this time it was especially great. Don't get me wrong--I LOVE visiting family, I LOVE my family but I'm SO different from them and those differences become accentuated, pronounced and inflated when I'm with them.

I feel like an outcast, an oddity.

I put A LOT of emphasis on nutrition, my own and my children's. I count their fruit and vegetable servings and don't pour just any juice in their glass. I dress pancakes in maple syrup NOT high fructose corn syrup. I use olive oil not a vegetable blend that expired two years ago--shelf life resonates with me. I opt out of microwaving plastic in order to opt out of having it in me. And, I don't eat just any meat--I am concerned with the treatment of the animal from which it comes because when I consume the flesh of the animal, I take its energy, its experience and it becomes me. I take that very seriously.

I don't ask everyone to adopt my views and practices but do understand that I am my own person and am following a path of consciousness built on doing better when knowledge is heightened.

I thought I had made peace with our differences and perhaps I have. Something about this trip made me feel especially awkward and I suppose I need to explore that more.

Nevertheless, I came home and lit incense. I practiced yoga with calming chants in the background. I cooked two square meals for my family with wholesome, whole, natural and organic ingredients.

I connected with myself, centered and affirmed I am just who I want to be.

Good night, Sleep tight

2008-03-26T01:01:00.003-04:00

So I'm sitting here in bed, on my laptop, watching TMZ (huge confession), recording yoga tidbits on my other blog (Twisted Yogini) and reflecting on my day.

The kids and I began reading our next book this evening, "Moorchild". When you open a book dedicated to all children who have ever felt different, you know you're in for an elevating experience. This is a fantasy-like story, a departure from our usual historical fiction but a welcomed one. I'm so thrilled.

And, oh yeah, I did play that game I promised--Monopoly. We do a 30 minute version and just count the one with the most money the winner at the end of our time. I also sat with the kiddos at the table for dinner, when I finally cooked dinner. I REALLY wanted to zone to TV in the living room while I ate but I resisted the urge and sat with them. I mean, really. Aren't I blessed to have children who get excited when we have dinner together--it means so much to them and fills my heart too.

It's been a good day, all in all.

I'm still exhausted so I think I'll surrender to the call of sleep and write more tomorrow.

Do you know where your children are?

2008-03-25T20:34:00.002-04:00

On the trampoline--out of my hair.

It's 8:30 at night and I have still not made dinner. I'm comforted by the late afternoon snack I prepared for them when I warned that dinner would be late--mama needed a nap.

Surprisingly, I have had zero energy today--even after beginning my day with a great yoga practice with one of my favorite teachers. I don't know what happened to me.

I promise myself, right now, that we will play a game together tonight as I make up for my lack of enthusiasm for life today.

Opting Out

2008-03-24T11:23:00.004-04:00

I notice a 17.9% interest rate on my credit card statement, a jump of 8% from last month and the first such leap in, well, all of the 12 years I have had the card.

I call the bank frantically. Of course, the representatives I need to speak with are only there M-F but she notices I qualify for a lower rate. Really? Like, the one I had 6 days ago perhaps or another?

I call this morning, start of business day. Yes, he confirms, you do qualify. Apparently the rate hiked because I did not respond to a letter mailed to me in January allowing me to opt out of the rate hike but I needed to call or mail in my reply.

Ah.

Is that how we play?

Well, after much consideration, I suppose I've decided to opt out of the rate hike (moron).

Great, he says. He can do it over the phone.

Glad I won't have to build a sacrificial alter for one of my children for this such retro action.

However, he adds, subsequent purchases will thrust the card back to 17% permanently.

Let me get this straight. You're taking my rate back down to where it SHOULD BE, yet, if I use this card again, my rate will permanently hike to 17%.

Yes ma'am.

I see.

Then, he offers me a checking account with said bank.

That's laugh out loud funny!

See, he explains, more than one account often assures different treatments, different considerations because the relationship is expanded.

Well then (shit for brains) here's what I think:

Any such "relationship" we ever had or were promised to have, ended the second I made this phone call. I, how do you say? Opt-out.

So far from where I was...

2008-03-21T02:37:00.002-04:00

I look back on me about 4 years ago and I was hustling through the Sociology graduate program with my eyes on the Ph.D.

Fast forward and I am STILL mid-way through a thesis, untouched in more than a year and I want only to wrap it up and be done. That is if I can even muster the will to wrap it up--I'd settle for just be done, degree or no degree.

I'm into yogic bliss now--deadlines don't exist in my world. The only hustling I do is back and forth to violin lessons, acting workshops and other such activities for my kids. I immerse myself in my own writing, not dead white guys formulating hypotheses on the social behaviors of humans.

But damn it all to hell, I'm going to do it. I've decided to finish the god damn thesis and be done with it--have the damn Masters degree because that's what I paid for some $50,000 in student loans later.

I've realized, however, that the student loans bought more than my education, they bought me time at home with my children when my jackass husband went AWOL. I'd do it again.

I needed a break after school, before my thesis, but rather than just allowing that, I pushed myself just as hard as I'd pushed all along and my burnout was palpable.

The time has come and I must finish what I started because I deserve the M.S. at the end of my name for all the nights I never went to bed, for all the hours I spent away from home, for all the papers I wrote (and well), for all the research I poured over, for all the books I read, for all the presentations and debates along the way.

Most of all, I just want it. I secretly long for the student life again--sociology became my love and I still revel in the social world, especially the individual level.

I want to come out of my closet and claim my prize.

Losing Place

2008-03-20T15:28:00.004-04:00

The following is a fiction piece and I confess, I am NOT a fiction writer but I'm exploring a story and what you see here is a work in progress. I will update from week to week and see where it goes.

She had always looked to him--he was her gauge, her way of knowing if she was doing things right--showing her she mattered. Theirs was a partnership born out of necessity and availability--they needed each other and they were all they had.

She wondered, out loud, if she had been enough--good enough, there enough, open enough. So much of their lives had been marred by uncertainty, heartache and deprivation. She felt, she continued, that her every waking moments were orchestrated outside of herself and often in spite of herself--it was stifling.

She rolled from her back to her side and looked over at where he lay and she wondered if he had even heard her words--these words, these confessions that she desperately needed him to hear.

The sun was warm on her skin--they had chosen a nice spot--sunny in the cooler morning hours and shaded in the afternoon. The landscape was beautiful and the flowers she bought from the florist this morning really livened up their spot. Sunflowers were his favorite. From the moment she showed him the seeds inside the center of a withered flower in the community garden, he had loved them. She remembered. He thought she was magic and she loved letting him think that.

She took a deep breath and rolled to her back again on the checkered cloth she had spread a few hours earlier. It was time. She finally told him about leaving. I have to, she explained. There was too much standing in her way here, "and besides, I think I've finally figured out how to live--you remember, I told you that once, that mama just couldn't figure out how to live and you looked at me all puzzled and big and with all the seriousness in your little heart you said but mama, you're doing it. I laughed at your sweetness but mama didn't get it then, you remember? Ah, but now, I got me some perspective and your mama, she's gonna be something."

She looked up, not sure what to expect or what she thought she might see and the smile never left his lips. "Well, say something" but she knew he wouldn't, he couldn't.

She felt a surprising anger welling up inside of her and bit her lip as the tears won out and made their way down her soft brown cheeks. She put her hand on the cold marble stone and surrendered to the moment that everyone told her would come. She allowed her fingers to trace the years of his life permanently etched as if sealing a deal, closing a book. She laid the photograph she had been staring at face down on the ground and tried to recall his face without the reminder, before the accident changed him forever in her mind. Submitting to her pain, finally, she spread her body across the ground.

"You were always the life within me" she whispered into the earth, willing the words to find their way to him. She began to read his favorite story, memorized from all of his 'one more time mamas'--the absence of his echoing voice on certain lines caused a sickening churning in her stomach but she didn't stop the story. She never stopped it then and she sure as hell wouldn't stop it now.

As she was walking away she turned once more to look over at where he lay--she wanted him to run to her, to grab her leg and hang on to her as she playfully pulled him along, just one more time. But now, his finality rose up as the only clarity in her mind as she looked back on the stone that marked where their life left off and she returned to a life without the only compass she had ever known.

Unraveling

2008-03-17T16:14:00.003-04:00

Starts with a fluster before the internal raging--the nonsensical swirling, winding out of control.

No one. No thing. No fault.

Growing, building, consuming, un-doing composure, inflicting imbalance and disrupting peace.

Almost had it, almost did it. Not quite. Not this time. Not yet.

This I Believe: Scary Movies

2008-03-17T00:08:00.004-04:00

I believe that if you introduce your children to scary movies in their own time and amid your supervision, they will fare well.

My own children had been, short of falling to their knees into a series of deep bows, begging to watch a scary movie with me. This is quite a different passage into the realm of scare flicks than I had taken with my own brother during our childhood. Ours were NEVER adult supervised--we watched WHATEVER we wanted in the wee hours of the weekends. Oftentimes, whatever we wanted was usually clad in a hockey mask wielding a machete, maiming dim-witted campers or jailed psychotic women, scantily clad, beating the crap out of each other until finally uniting against an equally psychotic warden.

So for my children, scare flicks have been off-limits...until now. They frequently check out scary tales from the library, with grand hopes of fear and spine tingles but have complained that they are not scary enough. Try as they may, and they've tried hard, they have not been scared.

This past weekend, it was just going to be the three of us and I suggested we get some scare flicks, kid friendly of course, and watch them together. They erupted into screams of joy and the path was set. My only concern was to avoid damaging their precious little minds in the process. Little did I know, my children are robots--their fear tolerance is pretty damn high, scary little bastards.

Before our weekend, we dropped into our local movie store and the helpful clerks, after laughing at the idea of kid-friendly horror, began scoping the aisles, making suggestions for my children. These guys were great and clearly, movie geeks--I trusted their recommendations completely. But I had some ground rules, after all, I have standards:

I didn't want killing for the sake of killing, no senseless violence, unless used necessarily against, say, the undead. Minimal blood, again, context was everything--blood rising in a haunted sink is categorically different from blood pulsing from a freshly chopped head. Preferably a movie whose central "evil" was a force wreaking havoc versus a crazed lunatic hacking limbs and other such appendages. And absolutely NO sexual violence.

The movie geeks moved agilely within my restraints and we settled on Stephen King's "It" and "The Omen". I had seen them both in my youth and been given a good helping of fear from each, so I talked them up to the kiddos. They were busting at the seams with excitement and I too was thrilled to be sharing this with my kids. I still love a good scary movie and had, in my own childhood, completely tortured myself with them.

I suggested we watch them during the day so as to not exacerbate the fear in darkness and further suggested we split them up over our weekend to avoid saturating ourselves in fear. I was on unusual ground here--I could rob them of their innocence. I was taking a huge risk and I knew it. In hindsight, I was quite unfair to myself for my children are of the corn.

They thought the boy in Omen was a tad spooky and the tale of his shenanigans certainly interesting but they were more disturbed by the death of the mother, the injustice of the father's early demise and interruption of their marriage bliss. Further noting that they would never be parents, all they ever wanted was a child, they would've made great parents. Alright. But did you see his eyes? What about that nanny and the way she ran out of the room at the father? And the boy, he was born from a jackal you know? My children missed the horror in the horror and got caught up in thinking too damn much.

So, against my initial plan, we popped "It" right into the DVD player and I told them to brace themselves. I talked it up. I closed the shades and turned off the lights to puff up the effect. This was going to be the one. We each found our place in the living room, hugged into our bodies and braced for fear.

Nada.

The credits were rolling and I even found my own self disappointed because, as an adult, it wasn't as disturbing as I remembered and the 'special' effects weren't so special now 20 years later.

I felt dejected. I had failed to horrify my children when they wanted to be horrified so desperately. I needed bigger guns. I rummaged through our own movie collection and, lacking any real choice of 'horror', settled on "The Village"--it certainly spooked me the first time I saw it, before I realized that the village and it's beast were a fabrication. The key difference is, my children already knew it was a fabrication. I shared it with them in my retelling of the movie several months back.

Long story short, my son fell asleep and my daughter said, "I was a little scared when she saw the beast in the woods" but again, was more saddened by the skinning of the animals and intrigued by the fabricated community.

Damn.

All three movies in one day and nothing. Not so much as a jolt or a gasp.

Determined to spook their pants off, I stopped into the movie store the next day and rented "The Ring"--this had to be the one. I couldn't go to sleep after watching it a few years ago, it played with my mind, kept me on the edge of the sofa and made my heart race--I LOVED it! And bottom line, they wanted ALL of this--they wanted the chill, the racing heart, breath held and fists clenched--and I wanted to give this to them. Now more than ever and at this point, I was hell bent on freaking this kids out, in a mother's love sort of way.

I hadn't given anything away on this, hadn't disclosed the slightest detail except to say--you asked for it so here it is. They were charged man--totally unable to contain their nervous excitement and I was freakishly stoked to rattle their cage.

We had a little better luck with this one, they were on the edge of their seats but still no absolute terror. And you know, I guess that's good. I didn't want to scar them but I also love that we're crossing into new territory as parents and children. Just like first steps, toilet training success, buckling themselves into the car seat and taking their own bath--we've reached a milestone.

For this I believe, I'm glad they want to watch these movies with me. Horror movies for me, at their age, were always watched with my brother and that's cool too but I'm more into family time as a mom myself. Furthermore, it's super-cool that now, not all movie nights have to be in separate rooms divided by our age.

I guess above all else, this proves that my children have a pretty firm grasp on reality and I like that.

The fog is lifting

2008-03-10T00:22:00.003-04:00

Wow--being sick for two weeks really takes a toll on one's life! I've been a slug, just creeping along, barely making it through days--overall blah.

Not to mention that I had two weeks between my yoga trainings for Feb. and March--the Monday after the Feb. training I came down with a crud, just made it out of the crud to go tent camping on the weekend in 40 degree weather, to find myself sick again on Monday--this one had staying power. I just now feel back to normal.

Had a GREAT yoga training weekend--I know myself how far I've come during this training, with yoga and with myself. The teaching part feels so natural and second nature for me, perhaps because it's what I do all day with my children, I teach.

Today was our 75 minute teach and it was a class that we were able to design ourselves. I designed a class that looked a lot like my personal practice and created a centering to lead into the practice. The feedback I got was AMAZING--I was totally taken back. I had the yoga instructor in my class, no pressure right? I used my own centering to calm my nerves--my hands were shaking! But I, ultimately, found my groove.

When I closed my class and the facilitation began, my instructor began her feedback by saying that I am ready to teach! She said I could take the class I had just delivered and teach at a local studio that is a perfect fit for my 'brand' of yoga--she even offered to make the call to the studio owner! She said my yoga class and aura bred self-love and peace and acceptance, that I was nurturing and in touch with my students and that my voice is my gift.

Imagine. My voice! All along that has been the biggest challenge for me, perhaps all my life really, on some level--finding my voice, using my voice, relying on my voice. In yoga, it's been a challenge for me to speak the postures, to speak to the experience with authenticity but today, I just spoke from my heart and I spoke to what I find in yoga and, apparently, a connection was made.

I think I floated out of there.

It was also so interesting for me when she said that my yoga bred self-love. I shared with her that, 10 years ago, that's what brought me to the practice--desperately needing to love myself. To love myself deeply and to connect all facets of my being and for me, that's what my practice is EVERY TIME, a tribute to me, an honoring of me.

This has been a great day--who knew that when the fog lifted, I would have my head in the clouds!

Feeling like ca-ca

2008-03-06T12:30:00.002-05:00

I'm so blah this week.

Post-camping sickness, strep maybe?

Fatigued, sluggish, heavy, menstruating, achy.

Too tired to make it to doctor.

Too tired to do yoga.

Trying to bake bread but it's just not rising.

Oh yeah, saved money on monthly car insurance. I officially have an agent. Now I pay half of what I was paying. He's my new god.

The kiddos can have music lessons now.

All must be well.

Me. Roughing it.

2008-03-02T09:39:00.006-05:00

I just returned home from a weekend of camping.

I've never camped before in my life--tent camped that is, which apparently is different from RV camping--DRASTICALLY different, I found.

Sure, my parents took me tent camping once as a child to which my body responded with spasms of diarrhea and vomiting. Obviously, I was developing an aversion that I would carry into adulthood.

Of late, I had thought I might like to camp, in a tent. I feel very alive outside--more and more as I age, and thought it would be a great way to connect with my primitive side, to nature.

So, below is a list of what I learned about and while camping:

1. Instant coffee might be overkill, because, I was informed, coffee is one of the easiest things to prepare in the rugged outdoors but overkill or not, it was a more than adequate replacement for what almost became my deal breaker.

2. Connecting with one's primitive side, does not, at least for me, have to involve sleeping on a sparsely padded tent floor subjecting the body to unnecessary bouts of pain and stiffness. My feet were just as dirty and my hair just as nappy on an air mattress loaned to me by a dear friend (who just rose ranks in my friend book when she offered this on my second night of camping.)

3. Some of the funniest things you will ever say happen immediately before, during and after a stint to the bathhouse at 3:00 in the morning when the entire family must rise, for safety, and make the journey together in service to your bladder.

4. My bladder is wretchedly small...and now my family knows.

5. There are not enough blankets in the world to cut the cold of sleeping outdoors.

6. We didn't mind sleeping 4 to a 3 person tent when we realized the necessity of body heat moving between us.

7. Tents do not come with automatic pulls or air pumps to inflate them. There is some effort involved in bringing them to being. Thank god for the Canadians at the neighboring campsite for saving us from our ignorance as we curiously studied the pile of nylon at our feet in our attempt to understand the method evading us.

8. Gnats just might be the Antichrist scattered into trillions of minions.

9. Monopoly is NOT a great camp site game. As if.

10. I don't mind an excuse to skip a shower...or two.

11. I didn't, not one time, miss the television.

12. My feet were the dirtiest they've ever been--once home, it took a round of body wash, another of apricot scrub and a pumice stone scrub to remove the dirt from the wrinkles of my feet and return them to their fleshy pink state.

And now that we are home and have been for a few days, I have loved the warmth of my bed and a toilet only a few feet away.

Breakfast at almost lunch

2008-02-27T11:05:00.002-05:00

We're slow starters around here--rise when we want to, on most days, and fall when we fall.

This morning I made a yummy breakfast-at-almost-lunch. We had scrambled eggs with feta cheese, Parmesan cheese, mozzarella and red onions and free-range, antibiotic free chicken sausage. Well, my son and I had that. My daughter had a leftover warm pasta salad with feta, tomatoes, black olives and spinach. We all had coffee.

Lovely start to a lovely day...I love this life of mine.

Living My Life Like it's Golden

2008-02-26T22:55:00.002-05:00

I am so full tonight, so content. Life is going my way lately and the results are beautiful.

I had dinner tonight with a dear friend. Her kids hung with us for the afternoon and she joined later. We had risotto, chocolate chip cookies and coffee. It was so cool, so sublime.

I used to have nights like this, years ago, with another dear friend of mine and it wasn't until I was living the moment tonight that I realized how much I had missed this sort of female connection. The talking, the laughing, the sharing.

I was blissed out.

Having such a full life, as I feel I do right now, means I'm a better person, a better mom, a better partner, a better friend, because then I'm operating from a state of balance, a state of peace and fulfillment.

So much has changed in the years since my divorce--it's like, there's my life pre-divorce and post-divorce now. The divorce is the center mark in my timeline. During that time, I emptied myself--I fell to pieces and in the rebuilding, I kept what worked and I discarded the rest. I reordered and came further into my being.

It was a blessing. I hate that the children have lost their father but that was his choice--I didn't cause it. We lost our marriage, it didn't have to mean his place in their lives.

One day, I'll explore it all here but not tonight. There are dark twists and turns that I'm not sure I'm prepared to explore right now. Soon. Life is good right now. That is the 'it' of it all.

Couldn't sleep...and other matters of anxiety

2008-02-26T02:22:00.003-05:00

Fretting over what to prepare for a picnic between a play at the downtown theater and an afternoon at the community art center, when there is minimal picnic-type food in the house.

Good payday coming this week--LONG overdue bonus. But it's not here yet.

Saw my dear friend today, the one from my other life--6 years ago. It's odd to have your life abbreviated into a 45 minute conversation--perspective. I'm sure there are more conversations to come where we relive what we've done, where we've been and what we've gone through. I regret that we didn't live it together but regret is counterproductive because we're here now.

Gave my daughter a half-ass goodnight hug/kiss session because I felt her attitude rising (long story and irrelevant). Wish now I would've called her back to me--if I've learned anything today, it's to NOT leave things undone. Perspective.

My pager sits beside me tonight like a grenade with the pin pulled--will it go off?

I'm tired of the cat climbing over my face to get to the one she loves best on the other side of the bed.

So unprepared for camping this weekend--can't do anything about it until payday.

I SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO need a haircut.

Hmmm. Perspective?

I will let them see me

2008-02-25T23:39:00.005-05:00

I have had an epiphany of sorts since my last column--the one where I recorded an instance of losing my shit over a Styrofoam vegetable tray.

I am the best damn' example of a human being. I'm good material. I am open, honest, raw, exposed--I don't build walls, don't know how. I don't create facades--I've worked too hard to be me.

I have moments, instances, where the context of my young life determines how I will react. Those pesky little neuron pathways have yet to be rerouted, completely. But more often than not, I'm deciding the next mom move. More often than not, I'm acting within and because of my love for my children and my desire to rock motherhood.

A wise friend of mine shared something with me under the last full moon. She said at least you can go back. At first, I was thinking, did she just hear what I read to her? Go back? How so--cuz if you've got some sort of mothering time machine... And then, as if in response to my inner-sarcasm she finished with, "you can catch yourself and admit that the way you responded is not how you want to continue--it's not how you meant to act, not what you meant to say."

Something about that made sense to me. I couldn't very well always stop the trains but perhaps I could jump from them for my children.

I could let them see me, see the struggle that is me, the struggles that are my insides.

The Tao of Parenting--yeah that's great for sealing failure and breeding inadequacy, sometimes. Where's the Tao for mama standing with her insides exposed or the Tao for mama with foot in mouth? The Tao is full of many contrasting verses but you never hear 'if you want your children to be calm show them how to be a raging lunatic.'

So here is my Tao, if you ever in a million years want your children to have a strong sense of self and place, show them your struggle and your path so they don't think for one second that living is easy.

I said in my last column, I've been better but I've been worse. I want to edit that statement. I've been worse than I ever planned on being but I've also been better than I've ever known. I have a way of focusing on what I don't do as their mom, on what I don't provide, on how I fuck up. What I lack in forethought and patience, I make up for in honesty, humility and humanness.

And, I can go back says my friend under the full moon. I can let them see me. The view's not so bad.

Parenting Tao

2008-02-22T14:41:00.005-05:00

[Taken from The Parent's Tao Te Ching by William Martin]

Your Greatest Legacy

If you want your children to succeed,
show them how to fail.
If you want them to be happy,
show them how to be sad.
If you want them to be healthy,
show them how to be sick.
If you want them to have much,
show them how to enjoy little.
Parents who hide failure, deny loss,
and berate themselves for weakness,
have nothing to teach their children.
But parents who reveal themselves,
in all of their humanness,
become heroes.
For children look to these parents
and learn to love themselves.
========================================

Ahhh. I needed that. For all the love I have in my heart for my children and for all of my intentions of peace and bliss, I step outside the mother I want to be from time to time and when I admit my failure, express my sorrow and convey my love, they see the humanness in me. Perhaps that exposure softens the edges when I veer from my path.

Bread-Making Day

2008-02-22T10:56:00.002-05:00

Waiting on the kiddos to wake up--it's 11:00 in the morning. Gotta love homeschooling!

We are making bread today. They're making monkey bread, a fun bread composed of ping-pong size bits of the rolled dough w/a raisin inside each bit and a yummy buttery, sweet glaze. I'm making my sunflower wheat bread--a new recipe I tried as my third yeast bread ever and from which I will probably never stray. I just like when bread goes my way.

Here's to rising dogh.

Ghosts

2008-02-21T23:48:00.004-05:00

I was confronted with a ghost from my past--just when I was thinking about her. Isn't that how it happens anyway? I was in the grocery store and I thought I saw her. When I looked to see that it wasn't her after all, I wondered what I would do if I did see her. Would I just walk away in disgust? Would I glare? Would I pretend I didn't see her? Would I hold back from hugging her? Would I laugh nervously? Would I be able to speak at all?

So many questions. How have you been? How's your daughter? Your husband? Your mom, dad? What are your dreams now? How close are you to them? Do you remember when...

She was my heart at one time. The only dearness I had ever found in female companionship back then.

It's no secret, I went through some serious shit when my marriage fell apart. Times like that, you fall apart and piece yourself back together in various ways, finding a good fit. There were nights when I thought I was going to die--the pain in my chest was crushing. How was I going to raise my children alone? How would I financially support my family? How would I keep our house? It was terrifying.

She was there--frightened as she was entering motherhood, she was there. I knew she was scared of being a mother--who the hell isn't? It's not all kisses and snuggles when you're sleep deprived and your boobs ache from nursing and your identity is compromised by the new arrival. But she was there and I knew she loved me.

We were really close, almost too close, and because of that, we were probably the greatest weapons against each other. Unfortunately, we found out. We parted ways for a bit--it was crushing for me.

After 9/11, she called me--wanted to make peace because who wasn't scared and confused in that wake? So we did and continued where we left off, pacing ourselves this time. Tempering our relationship--it's like we both knew.

Then, I don't know what happened--nothing, anything, everything. Harsh words in an email and it was over.

I was left stunned and hurt--paralyzed for a bit toward friendship.

I have thought of her often--probably a few times a week. I have even thought that if we just had one more chance, we could do this thing. We are both strong women and we are both open to our own change, we just haven't always been open to each other's change.

We were each shaped by each other somewhere along the way and we were each hurt by each other somewhere along the way. It's been long enough and I think I'm ready to find out what I'd do if I saw her.

But the universe gave me a buffer and my family saw her first.

The edit of "The Styrofoam Vegetable Tray"

2008-02-21T12:28:00.003-05:00

I have edited this submission following a review from the editor of the community column where I submit once a month (though I committed to weekly submissions).

She, rightfully, offered that the language, ie. f-bombs, at times, deteriorated the shock value--the necessary rawness that captured my downward spiral.

Thanks editor lady. I couldn't agree more.

BTW, thank you too for offering this:

"I LOVE this submission! Probably because I LIVED this submission in my own childhood. I think a lot of people will relate and I think it took a lot of guts to share!"

I felt a bit inadequate when I read this, like, someone else has survived a mom like me and now I write from the other side of that darkness to which she relates. Hmmmm.

Not sure how I feel about that--ah well. I own my demons, I suppose.

Yoga Bliss

2008-02-21T00:49:00.001-05:00

Between the sweet release of all negative energy from my body and the sharing of words during a writer's circle under an eclipsing moon, I am in bliss.

Good night.

Here's to looking forward and wanting better.