a tag

acumamakiki tagged me to share five weird things about me. here goes:

1) I usually hate how my hair looks, but my friends often tell me that they wish they had hair like mine.
2) I have the smallest baby toenail you have ever seen. When I get a pedicure, the pedicurist has to basically paint it on (though she says she has seen smaller).
3) When I was a kid, I used to "cook" by mixing cheerios, honey, peanut butter, chocolate chips, and raisins in a bowl. Oh and I would eat it. And now, when sometimes when people ask me "what would you like to eat?" I think about this concoction and wish I could have some of it again.
4) I have a very low self-esteem when it comes to how I look, but I have chosen to teach yoga. For 3-7 hours a week a room full of people stare at my body and how it moves. And when I am teaching, I never think about how I look, but before class and after class it is at the forefront of my mind.
5) I flunked chemistry in college. F. And then I married a science teacher.

I would like to tag Yankee Belle, Bella, Frankie and beansprout - I think they would each add their own special brand of humor and insight into such a list.

SPT 1/3

The photo in the photo: 1977 my grandpa sits in the green chair and I sit it my rocking chair next to him.

The green chair.
It has become a bit like the skin horse.
Bald in patches with seams showing.
But it links me to the past.
This was the chair where my father always read the paper and watched TV.
I spent hours on his lap in the green chair.
And when I came home from school, I would climb into that chair to watch Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street.
But when I heard the back door open, I knew it was time to jump because the green chair was no longer mine.
As my parents purchased newer, nicer furniture, the green chair began to move from room to room. They never got rid of it.
When I had my own apartment in college, the green chair became mine.
And it has moved to three towns with me.
I can't seem to let it go.
Though it is bald in places and showing seams, it reminds me of a time
when I felt the joy of being held by my father
when Mr. Rogers taught me that I was special
when I sang along with Bert and Ernie
when I wore pajamas with feet
when I wrapped up in blankets handmade by my mother
and all of this was enough to make me feel safe
Before I knew all that I know now.
But I realize that time did exist.
So I won't let them go.
Those moments are real.
Like the skin horse.

See other SPT participants here.

journey to poetry

I have heard the whispered invitations to explore the poet's world.
Do not be afraid, the voices say.
You will know when you find your words.
Open the door.
Let the others in to speak to you.
So I did.
And I will.

Jonah by May Sarton
I come back from the belly of the whale
Bruised from the struggle with a living wall,
Drowned in a breathing dark, a huge heart-beat
That jolted helpless hands and useless feet,

Yet know it was not death, that vital warm,
Nor did the monster wish me any harm;
Only the prisoning was hard to bear
And three-weeks' need to burst back into air . .

Slowly the drowned self must be strangled free
And lifted whole out of that inmost sea,
To lie newborn under compassionate sky,
As fragile as a babe, with welling eye.

Do not be anxious, for now all is well,
The sojourn over in that fluid Hell,
My heart is nourished on no more than air,
Since every breath I draw is answered prayer.

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.