lessons

As I happily say good-bye to 2005 (knowing that I will still be the same person when I wake up in 2006), I decided to take a moment to think about lessons learned this year.

Writing almost everyday over the last three months has given me a glimpse of someone I had forgotten existed inside me.

Accepting the love of another, someone who loves all of you (the good, the bad, the not so pretty, the beautiful), is a wonderful gift to give yourself.

Joining the library is a very cool thing to do.

The heart can hurt more than I ever thought it could. And I realize this means that at some point in the future, mine will hurt even deeper, wider than it did this year. I hope that there is a little time to heal before then, but I know that isn't how life always works.

I have knowledge inside of me, my own tools, to help with my journey in this life. I already know. Now, I just need to take my own advice (see this, this, and this post), so that I can see, feel, hear this knowledge that already exists.

The more I let go, the more my heart opens to new ideas, dreams, possibilities.

There is a dancer inside me, and she is manifesting in the disguise of a yoga teacher.

I really enjoy editing and I hope to create/have more and more job opportunities in my future. This is something I know I do well. And it feels good to know that about me, to own that this is true.

My spiritual journey is exactly that. My spiritual journey. It is okay to let go of the expectations of others in order to find the higher power within and outside of me.

I believe that I am, at heart, someone who often feels lonely. I am recognizing this and trying to find ways to feel this a little less. I am also trying to embrace that when I am alone, I am really not alone, because there are so many things that I can, want, need to do. And that when I am sad, the sadness does not mean that no one understands me.

The neverending lesson that I am in charge of my life. How I feel. What I do. Who I become. Lessons are repeated until learned and even then, sometimes they are repeated once again.

And there are days, when it all boils down to this for me:
Personal Plateau
(a storyperson by Brian Andreas)
I don't want another opportunity to learn & grow, she said.
I just want to eat crackers & watch Oprah & pet my cat.

Of course, I would be eating ice cream and petting Millie and still be in my pajamas.

I hope you take some time to think about what you learned in 2005. I would love to hear about your lessons.

slow down

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.
Lao Tzu

A reminder.
Stop.
Take a breath.
You have enough time.
Rest your mind for a moment.
Let go of the chatter that fluctuates your thoughts.
Sit still.
Do the best you can.
And be gentle in the moments when you think you did not.
Your inner critic is loud enough without help.
Create.
Laugh.
Breathe.
Let go.
Every day.
It is what it is.
It is what you make it.
Your choice.
Live it.

SPT 12/27

A reunion.

On Christmas, I opened a box that held this framed photograph.
A gift from my father.
A window to the past.
Two people I never knew who helped to create me.
A woman my father loved dearly. His grandmother.
Before she died, she knew my mother was pregnant with me.
She said not being able to meet me was going to be one of her regrets.
The cup is from her Fostoria collection that was given to me by my grandmother, her daughter.
I know her through these dishes and glasses that fill my china cupboard.
Now, I put a face with the feeling.
And even though we did not meet face to face, we can meet in the melding of energy from past and present.
We can meet in the love that is passed from her to my father to me.

See other SPT reflections here.

senses. christmas.

See.
The tree sparkles with lights as the sun begins to come up. Everyone wears their Christmas Eve pajamas (a tradition I started last year - if you are at our house Christmas Eve, you get new pjs). Presents wrapped in green, red, blue. Bows and gift tags inviting us all to take a peek. The annoyed look on my brother's face as he walks into the living room "what time is it?" and the laughter on his face as he opens his Mr. T in your pocket. Seeing my mother act out lightning while we play cranium (it doesn't get any better than that). Tired content faces ready for bed.

Hear.
Christmas music, Millie's sighs, my brother's sarcasm, my mother's laughter, the table being set, the timer dings, packages are opened!, thank you's, exclaims of surprise, the voices of my in-laws on the phone as they share their happiness about their gifts and their day, my brother's voice "I'm going to go take a nap," Jon saying "I think I am going to open up this chocolate," my mother saying "what else can I do here," my new polaroid camera talks as it hands me my first picture, laughter as we act out tofu and hum these boots are made for walking, the good nights before bed.

Taste.
Shortbread cookies, chocolate, earl grey tea, cinnamon rolls, sausage and cheddar strata, artichoke dip, bread, gouda and Beecher's flagship cheese, smoked salmon rich with flavor, cream cheese, salted almonds.

Feel.
The smooth surface of wrapping paper. Slipping my fingers through the little holes in my new warm mittens that I can wear when I am out in the cold and want to take pictures. Wrapping the soft cashmere scarf around my neck. Trying on a new vest and feeling the warm quilted fabric. Millie's soft fur as she wiggles with excitement as I put her new collar on her.

Smell.
A cinnamon candle, evergreen and eucalyptus, new candles, mango tea, the wool of my new scarf (grateful for the gift of a neti pot from my husband's awesome grandmother, Gram, so I can hopefully add more smells over the next few days).

And know.
Be thankful for the laughter. Hold it in your heart. Remind yourself that you heard it, felt it, lived it. When you feel the stress whisper in your ear and mind, inviting you back to the past, say no. And spend some time back in the moment when you laughed and laughed with those you love. And remember that they laughed too.

a little gratitude

grateful for...
moments with my mom and my brother who are here.
my mother's laughter (watching Cisco the garden guy on tv)...I never hear it enough.
my brother's honesty. outlook. kindness.
my husband's patience. sense of humor. gentle soul.
little moments where i let go of the need for the perfect holiday.
the way millie curled up with my brother on the air mattress he is sleeping on. she didn't move all night. first time she has ever done that.
my father's health. (a little scare this week but it seems like all may be ok. still in limbo but hopeful limbo)
the tradition of everyone in the house gets new pajamas on christmas eve. jonny and i just started it last year...but i can't wait until everyone opens them tonight.
the words of a wonderful book that focus on life and death and letting go (summer of the great-grandmother by Madeleine L'Engle)
you. my friends in the blog world. i feel like there are people out there in the world who get me. really get me. i am amazed that is this year of learning about grief i have been given the gift of friends in the blogging community. thank you. for your kind words. friendship. amazing, human posts on your blogs. thank you.

shine brightly

This post and this post have invited me to think about the winter solstice this evening.

I have always been drawn to the solstices. They are like bookends in midst of my year. I love the images of the world turning as my corner becomes full of light or full of night. I am drawn to the idea of the ancients and the way they celebrated the solstice (something my husband brought up to me today). And in the winter, I reflect on the hope that sits in the fact that the days begin to lengthen.

The idea that winter can be a journey inward. In a time of year when everything is about the opposite. The shopping, travel, buying, expectation, disappoint, singing, joy, togetherness. Instead, it could be about spending a few moments alone, quiet, in reflection, just for you.

A year ago, I met with my yoga teacher for a private session. I wanted to integrate chanting and meditation into my daily practice. She gave me a beautiful chant that evokes the idea of spinning all the petals of your heart; it has become my favorite and I sing it often. My heart, mind, spirit soar as I sing. The meditation was to breathe in suffering and exhale compassion. At the time, two loved one were sick with cancer and I wanted to bring my love for them into my practice. She said on days when I felt strong enough, I could breathe in their suffering and then exhale compassion for them. But the most important part was that I first had to do this for myself. Inhale my suffering, exhale compassion for myself. Even though I could not heal the cancer, I could reach out to them in this way. One of them died in February; the other is almost cancer-free.

Now, I work with breathing in compassion and breathing out compassion. I have not felt strong enough to "take on" the suffering of another. In my moments of quiet, I am trying to feel the creation of this compassion inside me. My heart is trying to heal. My grandmother was not one of the loved ones I thought about during my meditation practice. She did not seem to be ill; my grandfather was the one with cancer. Even though I rationally understand that it is not my fault that she died and that with my very life I was sending her love and energy daily because of our relationship, I still think "if only I had realized..." With this winter solstice, my hope for myself is that I will begin to let go of this. As a new cycle begins with the light of the day, a new cycle might begin inside of me, with my light. My hope is that my light will begin to grow stronger, brighter, fuller through this gift of self-compassion.

My hope for you is that you will feel your light. That you will sit in the quiet long enough to find it, feel it, see it inside of you. As the days lengthen, let go of some of your darkness, and let your light shine brightly.

SPT 12/20

I see
what you would see
if you were to look in
on me during the day.
My little room
where I work, create, meditate.
I surround myself with art
from past and present,
books for work and play,
glimmers of inspiration
for all parts of me.
The reflection sees
what I usually see
as I sit here
working, writing, creating.
The backyard, birdfeeders, trees, the garage.
A view into my world.

See other SPT photos here.

(An afterthought.
But if you do want to look
in on me during the day,
please just knock on the door.
I will let you in
and you can join me
to play, work, create, and meditate.
If you were to really stand at the window
and look in at me
and I didn't know you were stopping by
or I didn't recognize you...
well, that is a fear of mine.
So please,
drop me a line
to let me know you might stop by
and you are welcome to spend
some time in my world.)

hope

our prayer is that
people everywhere will
finally learn to live
as brothers (and sisters),
to respect each other's
differences, to heal
each other's wounds,
to promote each other's
progress and to
benefit from each
other's knowledge.

adlai stevenson