Life is Insecurity

I just read this on a quantum blog and p-yow! As if I could have forgotten this or allowed this knowledge to dull.

I have flown by the seat of my pants since my divorce and ya know what? I have never gone without--the universe has always provided for me, I have provided and I have always risen w/power and joy.

I am unbreakable, I am unshakable.

This life is mine and I choose my reactions.

connection

i was thinking about blogging lately, especially after reading michael's, and the connection they afford us--well, i guess that would depend on whether or not anyone has found your blog and cares to read it but with michael, he can have the hearts of those who read his story, reach out to him, regardless of their location, their station in life, their schedules, and he knows he's not alone--it's a connection mechanism.

certainly, a blogging addiction can breed disconnect but here, it's helpful. a dying man has community that he might not otherwise have and they are gifted with a part in sealing the life of a good man.

hmmm...

Confessions

I love the Fergie songs: "Big Girls Don't Cry" and "Glamerous"

I love the Justin Timberlake song: "Sexy Back"

So, anyway...

...the kitchen flooded tonight from the bath my son was taking in the adjacent bathroom. We believe the water that was running into the slit in the tub that sucks up the water as it gets too high--I'm speaking in completely technical terms here--was the water spilling over into our kitchen, obviously, there is a crack somewhere. Yeah. Obviously.

So, I kind of felt like Tom Hanks in the Money Pit when he's watching his claw-foot tub fall through the bathroom floor and he begins to laugh hysterically--I was kind of there, without the laughing. All I could do was hold my head and shake it from side to side, as if the shaking made what I was seeing any less real.

I'm not upset, really. Fortunately, we have the dehumidifier from our other house woes and can remove this water from the baseboards, walls, air handler closet and under our shitty-ass linoleum. I may have to prostitute myself when I get my electric bill but I've had to be creative before, financially speaking--not prostitution mind you, but creative.

The thing is, I'm not upset. I feel surprisingly calm and at peace with the whole situation--is this my yoga or something else?

Productivity

I'm on it today--rose at 7:00 and went for a brisk walk, about 30 minutes, came home and did some sun salutations and other gentle asanas, baked pumpkin bread and started laundry--I'm now on my 6th load of laundry. Understand, I have not done laundry since my partner and I started our relationship 6 years ago--it was kind of empowering to step back in the laundry room, to assume responsibility over a task I conceded to her back then. Moving on, I talked to my dad, my sister and my mom this morning--hopefully have nailed down the week that I will visit my sister and her new baby.

About an hour ago I began a game w/my little ones but our mini-guest arrived and we had to put it away until this evening--she's only 1 and would prefer to have 100% of our attention anyway.

I feel good about my progress today--think I'll make my pomegranate, cherry green tea now.

Found a new blog today...

The blogger is Michael and he's dying of cancer. His blog contains his reflections on the disease as it affects him, his musings on his life thus far, the pain, the absence of pain, poetry and photographs--his own work.

When I was on No Impact Man this morning, he referenced Michael's site in a post--I was intrigued that Michael was writing through his disease, knowing that he was going to die. I think that's a natural response on my part--we are all going to die and when we know of someone who has received confirmation, a deadline if you will, then we are drawn to them apprehensively, as if they were some sort of tour guide, a navigator of sorts of this enigmatic terrain.

For me personally, I am in awe by his calm, at least on the surface. He has accepted his fate and is living within the limits, in peace.

While reading through his posts, I was drawn to a poem of his that moved me. It really touched where I was needing to be touched this morning. Here it is:

Facing death
recalling the "virtues" of my life
(why am I keeping score?)
letting the foibles haunt me
Who am I trying to please?
What am I measuring up to?

We're all facing death right? Everyday we live is one more we don't. And I am guilty of tormenting myself when I don't perform to the standards that I have in place, ideals that I have for myself, benchmarks, a bar that I must meet. I will make myself sick w/grief as I assess my day when I lay my head down at night, always at night. When the lights go out and the house is quiet and the work has been done, it's then that I assess. It's then that the sound of my angry voice or the irrationality of my response to one of my children earlier in the day will haunt me--no, will terrorize me. My heart will beat erratically, my head will spin and I allow the regret to ravage me.

Why do I let the foibles haunt me? WHO AM I TRYING TO PLEASE?

It's fine to have goals and standards and values--they serve to shift our perspectives when perspectives become unaligned. To right our paths. But I suppose the challenge is to refrain from annihilating our selves when we don't..., well, when we don't measure up.

The little things...

Well, I wasn't so great at mentally recording little things today but here is my attempt for all that it is worth:

I was washing dishes, looking out of my kitchen window when a breeze shook leaves from the trees and they floated down to the ground in brilliantly colored shower.

That was nice.

I read a magazine and drank a cup of coffee--no interruptions.

Well, that's all. But that's enough, for now. I'm a beginner at slowing the pace with which I take in this beautiful space I occupy.

Trying not to move too fast...inside.

This is a great challenge for me, the perpetual mover. I don't mean to suggest that I am physically up and moving all the time but even in my down time or veg time, my mind is buzzing in a bazillion directions and I am rarely "still".

I challenge myself to slow the pace, the savor more and stress less, to understand that I have choices in life down to my emotional responses and I can actively select my response.

So today, I am here. In this place of peace--I will move from peace, act and speak from peace, think from peace.

From this place, I will try to notice the small things that might go overlooked in my usual haste and will post later.

Menu for tomorrow

As I sit here w/trash TV in the background, I thought I would plan my menu tomorrow before I forget what I want to prepare and because we are stretched, I need to make these ingredients last...

For breakfast, I'll make an apple bread--this time w/sugar because I really messed it up last time.

***Update: Made apple bran sweetened w/brown sugar and molasses--they are okay. Certainly nutritious but just alright in the yum department.

For lunch, I'll make quinoa and cheese tortillas w/ black bean soup [black beans, canned tomatoes, orange pepper, banana pepper and onions] poured on top w/a dollop of organic sour cream.

***Update: Am going to begin this soon but had to argue w/my credit card company over a $39.00 over-the-limit fee they charged me when the finance charge THEY added took my balance over the limit for $3.00. Is this fucked up or is it just me? I mean, clearly, I carry a balance because I cannot afford to pay it off so already I'm hit with finance charges (ie. paying for being poor) every month but then when it gets so close to the limit and a finance charge takes me over a measly three bucks, I get another fee--this time a good one, one that says *POW*! So she lectures me on planning for my finance charges and managing my credit to which I reply, taking no moment to realize I need her on my side, that I am not defective in the mind but simply overlooked it this month and that's why I'm calling. She reversed the fee w/a 'screw you' tone in her voice.

Snacks: Boiled eggs for w/fruit smoothies

For dinner, corn fritters [corn meal w/frozen corn] and, hmmm.....I'll have to think on that.

"I" am home

The last few days have been troubling to understate the gravity of our situation--we've discovered a wet corner in our house w/mildew growth, bubbling paint and wet carpet. There is no sign of where the moisture is coming in and we're quite sure that this problem was known to the previous owner who must have decided NOT to disclose the problem to us.

I have cried and recovered, cried and recovered. I've even gone into strategy mode--what do we need to know, what should we do and what can we do? I mean, what else am I going to do--there's no return policy on houses!

So I went out and bought a heavy duty dehumidifier, 50 pint, and we have had a lot of luck--countless dumping of the water chamber later, the symptoms have retreated (for now). There's still the small matter of getting to the root of the moisture but at least we have bought some time. My only concern now is a big, fat, fucking surprise on our electric bill--whatever, I can't think about that right now.

As this was going on, in the dead heat of the moment, the source of my greatest pain and discouragement had little to do with the moisture enigma and more to do with my own expectations of myself for my children. I just want a freakin' shelter spot that I can call my own, where we can rest and breathe and laugh and cry and feel secure. I want them to have a place that they remember when they grow up, a tree that they carve on in the front yard, a garden they plant, stories that begin with "remember when" and bring their minds back to this home. I want to "be" and I want them to be able to "be". I want them to love their home, to have fond memories of their home--sure, they might say, "it wasn't much but..." but they will recount the stories they tell with fondness and adoration.

I am threatened by this moisture, by the thought that something beyond my control, at least certainly beyond my financial control, could threaten the security of my children's well-being, of their foundation, of that which nestles them until they are strong enough and ready enough to set out on their own.

I had my own ideas on why this was not possible but they were buried under many layers of woe and then I had the phone call. My other mom and I were talking and I started to cry when I began to tell her about the situation--I couldn't help it, my pain was right on the surface ready to pour over and so it did. And she reminded me of what I already knew, of what I was telling myself in a whisper, that I was their home, that their memories of their childhood would be fastened to my role as their mother. She told me I was the best mother she had ever seen and while that might be an exaggeration on her part to move me past my tears, it worked.

This house will never be the anchor that I am to my children, no house for that matter. I am the nucleus, the anchor, the epicenter and all that flows from my heart for these children will sustain them when the wet seeps in and the walls no longer stand on this mere structure.

Storycorps Project

www.storycorps.net

The movement behind the idea that everyone has a story just as worthy of being told as those we select for the history books, as those we select for the telling.

What's yours?

Contentment

The day has gone well so far. Upon waking up, I moved through my yoga practice that I will be expected to teach when we resume our training in January. Our instructor expects that it will be a 30 minute practice--that is our challenge. This morning, I managed it in 26 minutes and that was without the meditation--I can SO swing that, I just need to do a bit of refining before we meet again.

I did manage to get to crafts with the kids today--it was great! We made garland for pine cone xmas trees and prepared a few more decorations for them. We worked on our clay windchimes that we made at the Art Center, adding beads to the twine before tying the pieces together--I'm torn about putting them outside, they're so cute and I want to preserve them. My daughter made beautiful worry dolls--worry dolls are Guatemalen, allegedly you speak a worry to each doll and place them under your pillow at night. I recently bought some for friends of my bits who were having a birthday and I have some put back for their xmas stockings...shhh.

Last night I made chocolate bark--white chocolate on the bottom and milk chocolate on top with crumbled candy cane pieces. This morning I pulled it off the parchment paper--it was perfect and YUM!

All in all a really good day but I did not move through the day easily--there was an underlying stress. It could be because I am on call and on these days, always waiting for the pager to go off--which it did but I was only gone for 3 hours.

I'm losing track of where I wanted to go, so perhaps it's time to call it a post.

Photo albums, thesis, crafts and other things left undone

I am about two years behind in my photo albums. I have the pictures on my computer but my albums are in limbo. I can only order them one bunch at a time to catch myself up but I feel like shit for letting it get this bad.

My thesis is still a black cloud hanging over my head--I am paralyzed by my own inertia and unmotivated by the sheer weight of the passing time. One day turns to another, turns to a month, turns to two years and here I am.

I have pine cones on my porch waiting for the final touches in order to hang them on our porch tree. They're painted but I keep saying we will add gems and glitter--today we will, we will, we will, we will. Alas. Not today. We won't.

The windows need to be cleaned, the floors need to be vacuumed, utilities need to be paid--we are two months behind and cessation of service is imminent. Filing cabinets and school room needs to be organized. My life is a to-do list.

I will be okay in the lack of accomplishment because for everything I wanted to do but didn't do today, I did something else. I call it trading. I did some xmas shopping for the kids' stockings--we're not doing gifts but I can't let a holiday pass with no surprise for them on xmas morning. I checked out a cute cafe in my neighborhood that I have not had the courage to try before today. I attended a birthday party w/the kids and got hot chocolates for our ride home. Planted some poinsettias in front of our living room window this evening and watered my plants. And now we're watching a movie in the same room as I type this.

I guess this is life. Sure I have things I want to do, need to do but the thing to do is that which is in front of me at the moment offering itself up to me.

That thing which keeps me in the moment...living and not the guilt that comes from looking back or ahead or anywhere outside of the moment.

The gnawing pain of reflection...

And why would it be so? Reflection should bring joy and happiness, fond thoughts, stories woven from the recalled fragments yet, this evening, when I piddled through photo albums, journals of my childrens' young lives and old birthday cards, I felt sad. It was a gnawing ache in what I suppose to be my heart--the emotion center of my being, not the physical organ.

I longed to do over, to hold longer, to kiss more and hug tighter, to listen better, to memorize with better accuracy...I longed to have been more in the moment.

I am a hostage of time, a victim of haste and my memories are the causalities of a haphazard existence.

I cannot sacrifice another day, another moment--I could be down to minutes yet I move through the hours of my life like a grocery list.