me as...{self portrait challenge}

Me as a happy apple.
Yes.
A happy apple.

Earlier this year, self portrait tuesday's challenge was "all of me," and in one post that month, I shared that my left eye has Duanes Retraction Syndrome. I also shared that my parents taught me to turn my head using a fisher price red apple. I haven't really spoken much about my eye over the years, but writing this and sharing my story here has invited me to think about it a bit more. And to think about the red apple and how it may have saved me in some ways.

On Saturday, Jon and I spent the day with Lynn and her husband. That evening, we had dinner at their home. And when I walked in to Lynn's kitchen, what did I spy?

I spied the red apple. The Happy Apple.
Serendipity.

It seems that Lynn bought the Happy Apple when she worked in an antique store. And it decorates her kitchen now.

So she let me borrow it for a bit, to rekindle my relationship with it. When you pick it up, it makes a delightful sound, kind of like chimes, kind of like a music box. I had forgotten this. But as I have listened over these last few days, my memories have begun to twirl around in my head. And I have created the Happy Apple Dance. A little yoga meets belly dancing meets ballet.
I love the way your life can go in a certain direction sometimes, and then one little shift in the path intersects your journey with someone else's. It is pure delight.

my love {sunday scribblings}

For a long time, I have been having a love affair. And when I visit him, I have the opportunity to stay at some of my favorite hotels. Places where my comfort is a priority. Places where the soaps bear his likeness, where chocolates adorn my pillow at night, where he wakes me up every morning with his voice on the other end of the phone. Sometimes at the end of the day, I retire to a hotel that evokes the great lodges of the national parks of the west. Other visits, I am dropped off right inside a futuristic building of sorts that has a restaurant where my love and I sometimes eat breakfast together. And on one visit, my bedroom looked right onto a savannah complete with giraffes that would visit me, standing about 20 feet away. My love always thinks of every tiny detail.

When the town car he has sent for me, pulls right in front of these hotels, my anticipation usually fills up my body in such a way that I feel like a five year old on Christmas morning. So many adventures ahead of me. I am always greeted by a bellman ready to take care of my every need. However, my favorite moment is when I walk into the lobby of these hotels. I am transported to another place, another time, another world. And every time there is this little part of me that thinks, "I am home." When the host or hostess gives me the key to my room, I want to twirl around because I know all that awaits me. But first, I stand in the middle of the lobby and take a breath. Breathing in everything. Remembering it all since my last visit, noticing new details. Yes. And knowing as I stand there that it has only just begun. After this moment, I quickly take off toward my room.

As I walk down the halls, I notice funny little hidden images of my sweet. When you come here to visit, you have to keep your eyes open for these little things that can add joy to the seemingly mundane moments. Every time, when I find my room, I seem to be pleasantly delighted to see that he put me right where I wanted to be. Then the moment of truth. I use the key, open the door, close my eyes, step in, take a breath, and open. Home. Yes. Home. This will be my home during my stay with my darling. I walk directly to the balcony. On some visits, he has put me in a special room where I can see the nightly fireworks display that always seems in honor of our affection (though, I must admit I know he sets them off even when I am not here. I am learning to share him with the others who vie for his attention).

After the bellman comes, I quickly unpack. One of my favorite things about the hotels I stay in when I spend time with my love is that there is always enough drawer space. Critical really for a several day stay. Then I change into something more appropriate for the atmosphere, fix my hair a bit, dab on a little make-up, and set off to find my love.

Oh. And my husband comes along too, because he has to take the pictures of the two of us together. Me and The Mouse.

(to read other hotel experiences, click on over to sunday scribblings)

grief and patience {poetry thursday}

grief. over the last year and a half, this has become a theme of my life. the deep, wide, gut-wrenching reality that grief invites. and one of the ways i am healing (also known as "holding it all together except when i am not and am instead knocked over only to realize i am not alone on this path") is reading poetry (and writing a little as well).

one of the poets who has spoken to me in the midst of this journey into poetry as i travel through grief is marge piercy. earlier this year, i checked out her book Colors Passing Through Us. in this collection, she has a few poems that whisper about her experience of her mother's death. this line, from "The day my mother died" stopped me right where i was and i recall sucking in my breath as i read it out loud:

That day opened like any
ordinary can of tomatoes.

so much said in these words. with this line, she evokes a kinship with people who have lost someone. yes, an ordinary day. that suddenly becomes something else entirely.

visit this page from The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor to read the all of "The day my mother died." (OH! and please note, this page loads in an odd way. the top of the page is basically gray and blank, but don't dispair, just scroll down to find the poem.) if you click on "Listen" under the date on this page, you can also hear Keillor read this poem (just keep listening, he does read it, but it is toward the end). as jon and i listened to this tonight, i turned to him and said, "i kind of want to curl up inside his voice and take a nap." i love listening to him read. and now that i know you can hear him read all these poems he posts at this site, i am going to try to listen to one a day.

i will visit this week's Poetry Thursday prompt at some point in the future. just not in this post. i am learning the valuable lesson that even though you want to finish a poem, it might want to sit a bit longer and unveil itself to you over time. so the poem i planned to share is doing that right now. we are both learning patience.

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}