Nature Write

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...

...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

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

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

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...

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.

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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.

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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

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.

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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

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

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

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

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?

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.