good friends, good food, good music, and fun

the fun i have had since last you heard from me:

i drove to portland listening to my ipod through my car stereo...and i was in concert and getting my groove on the entire time. i saw mt. st. helen's appear out of nowhere. every other drive down to portland it has been cloudy, so this was my first time seeing her as i did. she may be shorter than she once was, but she is gorgeous.

my reason for the quick weekend trip was to spend time with kelly before she moves to san francisco. she took me to fabric depot, and i will never hear the word cute again without thinking of her. i am still laughing at the two of us and our love of fabric. even when we said we weren't going to say cute again, we did. over and over. stay tuned for my creations. (when my mom was here, we made a purse and an apron. now i have to try to make things all by myself. i have gorgeous fabric though; as a result, you might not notice imperfections that my appear in my first few solo attempts.)

kelly and i went to see the indigo girls. yes. (i actually saw them in concert in college, but their music holds a new world inside me now.) the last song before the encore was Virginia Woolf. i am going to devote an entire post to that song soon. it simply is where i am in my life. and where i have been. and where i am going. in the best of ways. and the last song was Galileo. if you do not know this song, go check it out. Right Now. i will be here waiting...

on sunday, kelly and i visited with alexandra. and talked and talked and ate a little and talked some more. i love alexandra's house and the colors of her walls and her sense of humor and how she inspires me to write. an afternoon with her is a good afternoon indeed.

and now i am working some more. but soon i will be making new creations with my hands, my brain, and a little machine that sews. can't wait!

i feel good. connecting. singing. eating. laughing. i feel content and a bit lighter.
how are you?

truth, justice, and a little validation (or yes i saw the movie, but there are no spoilers in this post)

There are moments when your heart kind of swells in your chest and you feel little tears form behind your eyes. Something feels a little bit lighter...as though everything might be right in the world. Right now. In this moment.

A moment like this happened for me today. The music swelled and once again, Superman saved the day.

I am a sucker for movies where the good guy really does stand for truth and justice and all that stuff. Where the good guy doesn't lie. Where the good guy says something along the lines of "Swell." Yes, I am a sucker for that.

I have to tell you that in high school, I knew a guy like this. Truth, justice, and "swell." And when I heard the music as the opening credits began, I thought about him a bit. When we were seniors, the show Lois & Clark was on TV. Do you remember it? Dean Cain and Terry Hatcher? The banter between them always made me smile. And this guy and I had a bit of that banter sometimes. I think I might have thought we were a bit like Lois and Clark or rather, wished that we were. And now he is off saving the world in his own way, standing for justice and all that stuff as he serves in the Army over the big ocean in the midst of some scariness I try not to think about. A "golly gee" Clark Kent of a guy turning into a Superman of sorts. Perfect. (Be safe my friend. Remember that you know how to fly.)

As I watched the movie though, I realized that what I really wanted back in high school was that moment when Superman shows Lois the world from his perspective. He invites her to change her perspective a bit. When I found someone who wanted to do this, well, it was all over for me. To challenge me to see things I never even looked at before knowing him, this is the gift my husband gives me, and he has the desire for me to do the same for him. And of course, the need to protect me from any that might harm me is a nice thing too. (Oh and the way he always gets me water each night before I go to bed; how it just appears there on my bedside table...I could go on...)

As the movie continued, I also noticed the theme of acceptance. Isn't this what we are ultimately searching for over and over? Validation. There is a scene in the movie that visually illustrates the opposite of this: rejection, prejudice, and brutality. This scene will haunt me for a while. Why is it that we want to destroy one another? Why don't we try to understand instead of harm? Naive questions, maybe, but I think it is true that we all seek validation. Why is it that we do not give it so easily? Or is it that people do not recognize it when it is offered to them?

At the beginning of the movie, when the characters are put in their first of many tense moments, I found myself sitting hunched forward in my seat, chewing on my lip, brow furrowed, and I had to laugh at myself. I turned to Jon and whispered, "I forgot that a Superman movie means lots of bad stuff happens so that Superman can save the day." He grabbed my hand and nodded.

This is life, yes? A lot of bad stuff has to happen. But, there is something to the idea that inviting someone to see your perspective, to walk in your shoes for a moment (or at least recognize that you walk or fly on your own path), to really see you as a person, well, this may be the way to save each other. To save ourselves. Validation is a powerful gift.

I know that I seek this in my own life. I look for ways to reassure myself that I am not alone. This is why there are so many books that line the shelves in my home. I am seeking a kinship with others; an understanding that the way I look at things, this way that seemed to invite a theme of loneliness in my life, is perhaps not as lonely as I thought. This is what I found by reading poetry. This is what I have found by coming here to this place and writing and reading and writing some more. This is what I have found through my journey with yoga. Perhaps, this is the new theme of my life. The understanding that I am not alone.

As the music swelled, my heart felt a bit lighter. Someone was coming along to save the day. We are not alone in our struggles, even on the days when it feels like we might be. We are here for each other.

what i say {poetry thursday}

Ocean Creation

I find both my feet wondering when last I
noticed how it felt to stand and feel every toe.
Inhaling as instructed, with reaching arms
I seek the space that forms around my heart.
Navel toward the spine, the exhale begins
then my body folds in half, head toward knees.
Always a friend, gravity completes the journey
as hamstrings greet my jumbled thoughts.

“Find the pause, then the breath.”

Inhale, the heart leads as my body rises, all toes
connected, firmly grounded feet retain my balance.
Exhale, movement begins, hands slide down
my thighs, fingers wrap around my calves.
The invitation to hear the body is received;
I stay with my crown to the turning earth.
The struggle as I seek to find a pathway clear of clutter
and boxes piled high with all that I am not.

“Let go of judgment; find the breath.”

A crack in the top of my head, shame, fear,
doubt rush out to form an ocean on the earth below.
I close my eyes and find the breath,
permission to feel the space inside.
Oxygen moves stillness through the veins,
as energy pulsates from fingertips and toes.
Inhale, the heart opens and uprights my view;
exhale, the body settles as the mind finds the quiet.

“Feel the effects of the pose
on the body,
on the breath,
on the mind,
on the heart.”

This poem shares some of the phrases I use when I teach yoga. Over the last two weeks, I have tried to observe myself as I teach, noticing the phrases that pass my lips. This poem also shares what it feels like to have a moment in the midst of a pose, a moment when you realize yoga is about a lot more than just stretching the body. (And the post above is me reading this poem. I am still trying to figure out audioblogger but thought I would give it a try.)

*******

This week, I also brought poetry into an everyday moment when I read a poem at the end of class this evening. After the students rest in savasana, they come back to a seated position and I share something with them. A meditation, blessing, chant, "words of wisdom," a poem. Tonight I read "Threading the Needle" from Yoga Poems: Lines to Unfold By by Leza Lowitz. This poet is a writer and yoga teacher who shares images of asana poses, moments in her life, how yoga affects the mind and soul through the poems in this book. I highly recommend it.

pop art? {self portrait challenge}

me reflected in the side of the experience music project building, which is itself, a huge piece of pop art in seattle.

thought i would at least participate for one week this month at self-portrait challenge...

*****

updated in 2011: Self-Portrait Challenge (SPC) was a website that encouraged people to take and share self-portraits. I am sad to report that it no longer has an active website, so I have removed links that appeared in the posts connected to my participation in this project.

senses. beach at port townsend with mom.

{see}

{hear}

{smell}

{taste}

{touch}

{and know}

here we go

Music, loud enough to feel the beat in my chest. Boom ba boom-ba. Boom ba boom-ba.
Marc Broussard.
Home.

two, three, four.

As I dance around the house, ipod nano tucked into the band of my yoga pants (okay, the truth is it is tucked into the side of my hanes boy shorts), my own private concert, snapping my fingers to the beat, I have no inhibition. None. I pass the guest room where my husband glances up from the laundry he is folding, an amused look on his face (which has more to do with my having fun while he keeps the laundry going in anticipation of my mother's arrival tomorrow). A tornado could pass through our neighborhood and I probably wouldn't even notice.

here we go.

This is my favorite part. I have to clap now...and the singing begins. Arms above my head. Millie looks on from her spot in the middle of the hallway.

you don't know nothin' about me...

Summer heat is here, windows are open. Do the neighbors think I am crazy? In pain? I don't care. Toe. Heel. Toe. Heel. Pass the mirror in the hallway and decide not to look. Why bring judgment in now? I feel the beat in my soul...nothing will stop me.

take me home...

When I finished listening to this song for the fourth time in a row tonight, dancing to each encore, I thought about the conversation my friend Heather and I had earlier this week. The one about dancing. I started ballet at four, so dancing has been a part of my life for 26 years. A long time. As I child, I spent hours in the basement "practicing," which really meant having my own private dance concerts. From Tchaikovsky to Phil Collins to Madonna to (yes, you guessed it) Kenny Rogers, my body would move to the beat of the music. Twirling, tapping, waltzing (sans-partner). I would pretend Baryshnikov had come to take me away to be a dancer on Broadway in New York (has anyone else seen the PBS special Baryshnikov on Broadway? My dad taped it for me in the 80s, and I probably watched it 1000 times). Sometimes Prince Charming would come to twirl me in circles. Other days I was a back-up dancer finding my inner Solid Gold dancer.

Through all of this play, I learned to feel the music. And yoga has brought this to an even deeper level. It isn't just about feeling the music, it is about feeling my body. Feeling myself. Letting it out through movement.

My mind also turned to Jamie's day in May and Meg's post from March. Two different perspectives. The love of dancing and the desire to want to love to dance.

Heather reminded me that not everyone feels as comfortable dancing as I do. I mean, I will sometimes bust out into a time step in Target. And Jon will twirl me around on the sidewalk and I don't even care if other people think we are odd. I sing in the car, sometimes even when I meet people for the first time. And I dance in my seat. A lot. Dancing (and the occasional karaoke moment) are such a part of who I am that I don't even think about it as odd.

Thinking about all of this has become a theme lately. And I am wondering if dancing may be yet another avenue toward healing. Another way to find yourself...

Do you think you might want to feel the music? Feel your body? Find yourself as you let it out through movement?

my least favorite of them all {poetry thursday}

There are several words that make me cringe. I do mean cringe. But there is one, one that I dislike above all others. (Now, I am not including words that are derogatory or extremely offensive. Those are in their own category that is beyond and to the side of this one.) There are also words I love. Adore. Words that make me feel light and happy. Words that bring joy to my heart. And words that are simply fun. This poem uses some of these words. The ones I do not hate. And this poem takes you on a trip around the one word that is my least favorite of them all. The one that could be in the title. Can you guess what it is?

The word that must not be spoken

At the widow’s peak, gravity pulls the
droplet toward the crease between chaotic eyebrows.
Fingers dance by memory, though the mind is engrossed by the
droplet as it travels to the indentation at the left of the nose.
A faithful assistant, the ears seek distraction for the mind,
finding the “click-click-click-click,” side to side with no intermission.
The next inhalation diverts attention to a tickle, as the
droplet dives into the left nostril and dangles with prudence.

Exhale. The mind suspended with hope and dread, awaiting the
next intake of breath. Will it plummet to a gratifying demise?

As though in cahoots with the crescendo, “drip,” the
droplet plunges into a pool atop a sharp ivory landing.

dear dad

so i didn't get you a father's day present.
i do not usually remember father's day and mother's day in time to send presents and cards.
and i know that i conveniently forgot father's day for a few years in the 90s.
but today, i remember.

and i wanted you to know that i am glad you are my father.
and it is only in the last year that i had the realization that this day, every year, must be hard for you because your father passed away when you were younger than i am now. and i guess because i think of him as my grandfather, the man i will never have the chance to meet, the man with a voice i will never hear, the man with hands i will never hold, i simply did not think of him as your father. but then, when grandma died, i began to understand. every day, in some way, you must miss him. and every year, on this day, you are reminded.

i am glad you are in my life.

this is one of my favorite pictures of the two of us. getting ready to leave for the notre dame/florida state game in 1993. i miss moments like this. but we grow up and relationships shift, for many reasons. but i am glad that this moment was captured to remind me of the time before i was too grown up, before things shifted.

and i am glad that in the last couple of years they have shifted again. and we both have remembered.

happy father's day, dad.

love you,
me