{SPT} the me who is a pirate

My eyes.
This is what I answer if asked the odd question: what is your favorite part of your body?
My eyes.
For they are not fat. And fat is how I see the rest of me.
But here is the top secret truth: my left eye is the most "flawed" part of my body.
A flaw I cannot fix.
My flaw not too many people know about.
My left eye does not turn to the left. Not even a little bit.
"No it is not a lazy eye." The answer to the question I am always asked.
"But I have never noticed" is what is said next.
Right. You haven't. Because my parents were amazing.
My mother did not want me to feel different.
She taught me to turn my head.
For a little while I wore an eye patch as a child.
A pirate at three.
When I need to see something to the left,
I turn my head.
It is that simple.
So you never notice. And I don't really think about it....
unless...

I am in fourth grade, and the doctors and my parents decide that surgery is a good idea. To move my eye forward, for cosmetic reasons, to make sure that it will not move as I age and take a look around and just see what they find. A teaching hospital. Let's just see if maybe we might be able to do something. I am easily bribed by the promise of a cabbage patch kid with a tooth. But would I have agreed if I would have known the torment a fourth grade classmate would provide during my healing process? "Your eye is all red. Gross." For weeks the redness does not go away. For weeks his words torment me. I wear my mom's sunglasses for the first few days hoping no one will notice the redness. But who doesn't notice the fourth grader in adult sunglasses? (I chuckle through tears as I write that.) I do not want to miss any school. I already missed two weeks at the beginning of the year, I love my teacher, I love reading Caddie Woodlawn, I will not miss any more days.

I am 15 and studying genetics in Biology. This is my favorite part of this class so far. I love punnett squares. On this day, we spend the hour talking about genetic mutations. Mutants. I have never thought about the possibility that my eye is a result of a genetic mutation. A little part of me almost dies that day as I think about Darwin and evolution and the idea that the mutants are not wanted. I talk to my teacher after class, wanting to understand why we would use the word mutation when talking about a person's genes. He is very kind.

I am 22 and have been out with a friend. Someone I feel comfortable with. I am walking to my car, and she calls my name. My eyes are focused on my car as I turn around quickly. I hear, "God, what is wrong with your eyes?" Because my eyes were focused on one thing, but my brain said, "turn back around," she noticed my eye. I can still hear her voice. Loud. Harsh. Cruel. Confused.

I am 25 and realize that I might need glasses for distance. I do not want to go to the eye doctor. I have not been since I was a child. I decide to go to an opthalmologist because maybe he will have seen this before and not be weird about it. As I make the appointment, I explain "my left eye has duane's retraction syndrome. But that is not why I am making the appointment. I am making the appointment because I think I need glasses." "What is that? How do you spell that?" I have to explain. Fine. Still, I hope it won't be weird. But when I get there, I have to see a young woman first. Someone who has not seen this before. Someone who did not know what it means on my chart. Someone who does not know how to react when my eye does not turn. Yes, I know I look normal. But this is what happens when you say, "please follow my pen with your eyes." And when the doctor comes in, "Well, you are quite the celebrity today. Quite a buzz about you in this office. Most of these people have never seen this before, and I have only seen it in books." But I don't want to be a celebrity. I just want to know if I need glasses. I wonder, were those my eyes in the book? Could be, because they took pictures when I was a child. I do not want to follow the pen, the light, your finger to the left over and over again so you can see my eye not turn.

I am 29. And I finally realize my favorite part of this story. The support of family when I was younger. The support, to be honest, that I don't really remember because I never felt different, never noticed my eye, never had trouble reading, seeing, playing, and so on...the support that happened before my memories really began. The support that caused me to have to think about which eye had the problem because I never noticed it growing up. The support that began as soon as my parents realized something was wrong. I imagine the fear and confusion they must have felt. "What is wrong with her eye? What is happening? What did we do? Can she use it? Will she read? What do we do?" But they did something. They did not ignore it. Hours holding the red apple is front of me and teaching me to turn my head. And support from my grandfather through his offer to see if the doctors could take the muscle from his left eye. He was born with mostly blindness in that eye and wanted to give me any parts of his eye that would work and help me not be different. Not a possibility but the offer of the gift is even greater than actually receiving it.

They said I wouldn't read or wouldn't read very well. My mother did not believe them. She spent hours doing what she could to help me realize that I was in control of my eyes, how I would turn my head, how I would see things. I wore the eye patch for a few months so that I would turn my head. It became so automatic that the eye patch was not needed, and it was almost like the eye patch became invisible. She taught me to turn my head so that I would embrace this flaw. This flaw I never really think about because it does not affect me. They said I wouldn't read very well. But I read for a living...hmmm...guess they are not always right.

I would not change it. I know this secret that I hold. I am a pirate who travels the world through the books that live on the shelves in my home. A pirate who can see it all...

see more "all of me" posts on self portrait tuesday

edited on 5/27/07 to add: if you have arrived at this post because you or your child (or someone else close to you) has duane's retraction syndrome, please feel free to email me at waywardtulip at gmail dot com. and, if i could give parents words of wisdom from my experiences, i would say this: if you can afford for your child to have surgery to help with the movement and appearance of the eye (even if it is only cosmetically), do so. i believe that part of the reason i have been able to embrace this "pirate" in me is because visually, others do not notice that there is a problem with my eye. as a result, duane's did not affect my self-esteem about how i look. people might try to tell you that the surgery isn't necessary. but life is hard enough without feeling like you look different than others.

like a wayward tulip

I could stand tall, firm, with the group
try to raise my head above the others.
Or maybe find my supple self and bend
discover another path.
Breathe, find the curve of my spine.
Breathe, open my eyes.
Like a wayward tulip
looking for a new view,
another window from which to see the world.

{AW} check-in

I am behind. Again. An unexpected surge in editing work (which is good) has kept me working more than anticipated so I am juggling the many other things in my life. Still, I hate being "behind" again. I always turned my homework in on time! Maybe this is becoming more of an exercise of letting that need for perfection go and still do the pieces that I can. I also think that I might be behind because in the sidebar for this week's chapter Cameron tells us we will discuss money. Money is not a topic I enjoy. Abundance is though. So maybe I am manifesting some abundance through all this work this week...

The artist dates remain one of my favorite parts of the process (and one I can do even if I am behind). This week I planned on taking the $5 my grandpa sent me for Valentine's Day (as he and my grandma have done every year since I can remember) to the dollar store Friday to see what I could find. But life (and illness) interrupted. So today, as a trip out of the house, I took Jon on my artist's date to the dollar store. With rules...er...suggestions. We were each going to wander around the store (my grandpa sent him $5 too) for about 15 minutes. Ignoring each other. And then meet up at the cash register with our finds. But these finds had to be something to feed our creative soul. (read: not stuff for work.) It was fun! I found neat pencils, alphabet stickers, and superballs (to remind me of this). Jon found superman and mighty mouse cartoon dvds and teenage mutant ninja stickers (that might be for school but at least they are not serious). I could have spent more than $5 but stuck to my plan. And yes, I promise to go on my artist date alone next week.

Thank you all for your kind words and positive energy you sent our way after jon's health scare the other night. He is still feeling "puny," as my grandmother would say, but is much better.

poetry thursdays

My plan was to post this much earlier...but I spent the evening at an urgent care center at the hospital with my husband. He is fine. Still, some scary moments...He is fine. He had to have a CAT scan. He is fine. I appreciate the kindess of doctors and nurses on an evening like tonight. A thank you from my heart to those of you who take care of others in this way.

I have a new idea. Poetry Thursdays.
An invitation to read a new poem or an old favorite.
An invitation to take the poem with you to the bathtub to have your own poetry reading.
An invitation to rediscover a poem that you love and share it with others.
An invitation to write a poem. Yes, you. Write. A. Poem.
An invitation to look at the world from another's perspective.
An invitation to let words resonate within you.

And I plan to extend this invitation through sharing a different poem each week. One I have discovered on this journey into poetry that I find myself on this year.

I read this one out loud to jonny tonight as we were waiting for the doctor to come back to tell us the plan...

Many Miles

The feet of the heron,
under those bamboo stems,
hold the blue body,
the great beak

above the shallows
of the pond.
Who could guess
their patience?

Sometimes the toes
shake, like worms.
What fish
could resist?

Or think of the cricket,
his green hooks
climbing the blade of grass-
or think of camel feet

like ear muffs,
striding over the sand-
or think of your own
slapping along the highway,

a long life,
many miles.
To each of us comes
the body gift.

- Mary Oliver

now.

I love the question Alexandra has asked: what do you know that you don't want to know?
And I realize. I want to know it all. Even the shit. (yes I just put that word out into the universe)
There are moments when I think "why me? why is this happening? this was not at all what I imagined or hoped for or dreamed of." Yet, it is clear that this is how it was supposed to be. Because now I am here. Armed with all of this knowledge, experience, and the realization that the tools to deal with the shit have been in me all along. I know I will forget this over and over again. This is how it works. I believe the big lessons in our life exist on a timeline and sometimes we get caught up in a loop of the lesson. I suppose that there are times that this loop could last a lifetime...but I think of it like this: You move along and then something trips you up, so you are caught up in the loop of the lesson. You loop around and around for a while...then you eventually learn this piece of the lesson and continue on again. Until you trip. Then another loop and so on. The funny thing is that even when you realize this, you still trip. Even when you are in the loop, you can't or don't get off. Even when you know you are in the midst of a lesson, it is still hard to learn. But you have the tools inside you to help the upsidedown world of spinning in the loop seem a little more rightsideup.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like me. Alive. Awake. I don't want to go to sleep and miss my life. I don't want to look back and think, "why didn't I do something?" And so I want to do something with all the lessons. I am figuring out what that is...but I know that I want to do something.

Again, I'm within my self.
I walked away, but here I come sailing back,
feet in the air, upsidedown,
as a saint when he opens his eyes
from prayer: Now. The room,
the tablecloth, familiar faces.
- Rumi

{SPT} the me before i feel

Before I feel
Before I talk with anyone
Before I clear my head
or wipe the sleep from my eyes
and the dried drool from the corner of my mouth

Before I breathe in and out with intention
Before I stretch my back in cobra pose
Before I take a shower
or put on my clothes
and paint my face and brush my hair

Before I energize my body with food
Before I check my email
Before I start my work
or organize my schedule
and begin to read the words written by others

I walk out to the living room
Sit down at the table
And take this picture

I breathe in vulnerability
and exhale self-acceptance

This is me
The me before I begin to feel
Before I remember who I am

All I ask is that if you encounter this me
Please be gentle
I will begin to feel soon enough

{AW} a tag

I was tagged by Blue Dog to share the following:

Four wishes, dreams, and desires
1) a trip back to maui without the worry of financial debt
2) to own a bookstore/pajama shop/coffee shop
3) to have a yoga studio above the afore-mentioned shop
4) to maybe, some day, have a child

Four imaginary lives
1) a mermaid
2) a photographer who travels around the world
3) a broadway singer/dancer
4) the first female president

Four things I should change
1) to take even better care of this temple that is my body
2) my negative self-talk
3) let go of more "stuff" - emotional, physical, material
4) love more, judge less

Four people I admire
1) SARK - her honest, creative, inspiring way.
2) my friend heather - her strength and courage. she always invites me to grow, be more than I am, and she never judges as I share my innermost demons, secrets, dreams, hopes.
3) my brother - as he follows his dream, he teaches me to let go and live more. as he searches inside himself for truth and understanding, he reminds me that i have the tools to do the same.
4) my friend juli - i trust her with my life. and i am sometimes in awe that she invites this kind of trust.

Four things i like about the artist way
1) i feel that i have permission to find this artist inside me.
2) the sense of community - so many other bloggers are out there following this same path, at least for these 12 weeks.
3) the idea that i am not alone in this hope to find a connection with myself and others.
4) artist dates. artist dates. artist dates.

Four things i still hope to get out of the artist way
1) the habit of morning pages.
2) permission to let this artist inside of me begin to create.
3) a continued sense of this community.
4) the habit of morning pages (yes, I really do want this to become a habit, so maybe, if i write it here again, it will begin to germinate into more than just a seed of an idea).

Who inspires you? What imaginary life do you wish you were living? What would you change?

senses. sangha.

{feel}
As soon as I step into the room, I sigh. Calm. Safe. Sangha. The scratchy, thick wool blanket. A tacky, sticky yoga mat. The warm embrace of others as we greet one another. Some pause as they hug. Sigh. Honor one another. Grateful to see one another. I sit on my blanket, fold my legs in front of me, and settle in for an afternoon of learning, sharing, listening. As we start our time with chanting, I feel the sound of all our voices vibrate inside me. As we begin to discuss, just discuss, inversions, my energy, the group's energy, increases. As the afternoon ends, again we embrace one another. Validation and support in the form of a hug. The knowledge that we will do this again the next day. Two days of community, learning, sharing.

{hear}
Happy voices of the group greeting one another. For many it has been a month since we have seen one another. To being the afternoon, we chant to Ganesh and honor our teachers and teachers' teachers. People begin to check-in. I hear their truth. They share with such honesty and integrity in their voices. Tears. Laughter. Tears again. Validation. Affirmation. The calm, wise voice of our teacher. Her infectious laughter. She shares her knowledge without attachment, inviting questions, conversation. We study inversions. Changing your perspective by literally turning yourself upside down. An excited voice says something like, "did anyone else just love headstands as a kid? I would watch tv standing on my head." Laughter. No one quite agreed but we could all relate to the child-like joy. Throughout the afternoon, moments of quiet counterpose the energy, laughter, voices.

{smell}
Fresh air drifts in through the open windows. It is warm enough (read: no rain, wind, or gray sky) to have the windows open. Yes. Yes. Yes. Someone brought foil-wrapped hearts. As I bring one to my lips, the intoxicating smell of my vice, chocolate. Can I let one be enough? No. Throughout the afternoon I eat three. Later, the spicy, warm, stomach-grumbling inducing smells wafting from the kitchen of a Thai restaurant.

{taste}
The salad, my new favorite meal, that I brought for lunch. I taste dried cranberries, blue cheese, apple, lettuce, walnuts. I am eating a salad and loving it, I think to myself with a little happiness and pride. Later, the hot, rich, bitter flavor of a vanilla latte. Even later, peanut sauce, curry, rice, noodles, vegetables shared with four friends. The spices cha-cha on my tongue in the midst of conversation and laughter. The welcome clear, cleansing taste of water when the curry is a bit more than my tastebuds can handle.

{see}
On days like this, I usually focus on faces. Smile, sadness, serious eyes, frown of confusion, nodding affirmation, a wink as a joke is shared, quizzically raised eyebrows, laughter and wrinkles around the eyes. And when we study asana, I then focus on bodies. On this day, bodies in shoulder stand, head stand, supported head stand. Although I am not yet brave enough to experience these poses, I enjoy the change in perspective these poses invite in others. A new look at the world. Upside down.

{and know}
You can find a community of people, a sangha, and know that you are not alone in your journey. Take a breath and open your heart to the possibility.