inviting peace {a chant}

I believe that letting go of the words that can seem stuck inside of us, as many people have been doing in the comments of Sunday’s post, frees some space inside you. I honor those of you who have freed this space inside you with the pieces you have left here. Thank you for being brave and sharing your feelings, emotions, fears, and thoughts.

Today, I was thinking about the idea that for some people, when they share something they have been keeping inside, they feel freedom. This created space inside is a relief. For others, this space may feel new and invite uncertainty.

Wherever you are in your journey, I would like to invite you to fill the space inside you with peace.

To me, inviting peace means to invite a feeling of quiet, calm, validation, safety, and the knowledge that you are not alone.

If you click on the audio post below, you will hear a chant that invites peace. Shanti is the Sanskrit word for peace. In my yoga classes, and maybe in classes you have been in, this brief chant is usually repeated three time. I have repeated it a few more times in case you want to join in after you have heard it. At the end of this chant, I have shared some words my teacher often says at the end of class.

If you don’t feel like you are in a place to invite peace inside you, maybe you should take a moment to leave a comment in the previous post or read what others have left in the comments. You might feel yourself shift a bit.

Thank you for sharing yourself here.

Updated: The site that was hosting my audio posts shut down. I am slowly adding new audio posts and meditations to new blog posts and will link to this chant when I post it again.

let go of the beast inside

We are so accustomed to disguising ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.
François Duc de La Rochefoucauld

As I was walking in Portland yesterday, I had this thought that there is something I would really like to share here but I can't. Something that someone said to me recently that stopped. me. in. my. tracks. I was so shocked by this person's "well-intentioned but holy crap I can't believe you just said that to me and I am supposed to react to you" idea that I did not know what to do. This isn't someone who "lives" in my blog world but someone who lives in my "real" world. It wasn't earth shattering, but it was something I wanted to post about because I think people would...well...I think it would be an interesting topic. However, I know that person never even thought for a minute that what was said might hurt me or have been not at all helpful.

This led me to think about the idea that after a blog is shared with friends or family, censoring or the avoidance of certain topics might occur, and if the blog is anonymous, this probably doesn't happen as often. Whether you started out with friends and family reading your blog, told them about it after you started, or even if they don't know but you feel close with people in your blog world, you probably began to censor just a bit or avoided certain hot topics. For some, it may not be too much. For others, it might be a lot. It depends on the topic and the day and so many other things. For me, I do not really censor, but when I do, it is usually to avoid accidentally hurting someone's feelings. (I am already thinking, "Oh I hope no one is out there trying to figure out what you said. Let that go. That is not the point of this post. And no, it wasn't you. Or you.") I believe this is a place for me to reveal pieces of the truth of my journey, a place where I unpack bits of my baggage to examine and learn. But it is also a place where I seek a community of sorts. And I appreciate that this has given some people in my life the opportunity to see other sides of who I am. I know that there are topics I avoid (politics being one) because I just don't want my blog to be about debating or other things. Still, there are times when I want to say things here. I want to show another side of myself. I want to say, "hey, you hurt my feelings and I think you should know that and if you are going to do it in public, I want to reply in public." Or maybe tell a piece from my childhood or about my relationships with certain people in my life. But I believe my blog is not a place for that. Even though writing here is so personal for me and has become a big piece of who I am, this is not the place for everything.

However, if we keep these things bottled up inside for too long, they grow. It is almost as though they sprout feet and teeth and claws. We have to be careful that they don't become raging beasts inside us, threatening to alter our course with their power.

As I was walking around in Portland, I had the thought that I wished I could just share some of these things in someone else's comments. I know that is odd, but that way I could put it out into the universe and not censor. Hmmm. Then as we were walking today, I shared this next idea with Lynn, and we agreed I should put it out there.

Is there anything you want to share here that you can't share on your blog? A story that others wouldn't understand? Feelings about a hot topic? A venting that just needs to be unearthed from the depth of your being? A piece of information you just have to share? A secret's energy that needs releasing? If yes, I invite you to leave this here in the comments of this post. Feel free to leave it anonymously if you like. Just get it out of you.

I think you will feel lighter without it growing inside you.

these eyes

My mind resists why I am here. Eyebrows need to be plucked. Hmmm. Those pores need some attention. What are we going to do for dinner? Did I take Millie out this afternoon? I think I might want to run out and get some coffee. Why am I doing this again? Hmmm. I close my eyes. Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out. Open my eyes. Look again.

This thought.

These eyes. These eyes are the only eyes that will ever see all that I have seen, all that I will see. Holy crap. This is huge. HUGE. I spend so much time wishing that I could adjust this or move that or look like. But this is it. This is the face I bring to this life time. These are the eyes that will see all that I will see as I move through my experiences. These are the eyes that will help me learn this time around; the eyes that will force me to see even when I want to sleep.

Spending time with my reflection seems to take me down a different pathway each day. Sometimes I resist to such a degree I feel like I have let myself down a bit, like I didn't "get" what I was to "get" that day. Though I know that isn't really true, I can become a bit exasperated with myself. Other days I have the "crappers it is 11:30 p.m. and I haven't spent any time in front of the mirror" thoughts. But those seem to be the days that I have a little epiphany. Interupting the flow of things seems to turn my usual thoughts upside down. And that can't be a bad thing.

If you are joining me in your own journey of self-reflection through time with your mirrored self, I hope you will realize there is no "right" way to practice this. You could spend 15 seconds just breathing and looking at yourself, noticing whatever comes up. You could devote the same 10 minutes every day to this experience. You could sit with a poem or whatever inspires you and read, then spend time with your reflection. The possibilities go on and on. This week, I wrote about how I unexpectedly serenaded myself and I have to say I highly recommend that. Feel free to share your ideas and experiences here if you would like.

Take a moment and look deeply into your eyes. What do you see? What would happen if you let go a bit of the wishing to look like and honored this face? Honored these eyes? Honored you?

reflections, a poem, and a serenade to the self

This is a long post. But, just like there is sometimes a monster at the end of a book, there is a poem at the end of this post. (Feel free to just jump ahead. Go on. You will find it in the third part of this post.)

Part I
Last night, I decided that teaching my evening yoga classes and chanting with the two students who came to my yoga, chanting, and meditation class was going to be my meditation for the day. So, I did not spend time in front of the mirror. I shared one of my favorite chants with them and the words and sound swirled around the studio. My teacher says the chant is said to turn the petals of the heart, and as we chanted together, I felt my heart fill with some of the joy I had been focusing on prior to yesterday. Then when I returned home last night and when I woke up this morning, I read the comments left and emails sent by some of you in response to yesterday’s post. Thank you for filling my heart with your support. I do recognize that there are things I need to look at based on my internal response to this doctor’s words…and like you…I do the best I can.

This is what I know. We never really know the frame of mind of the person to whom we are communicating. Where they are in their day, in their life, in their journey. And we will try to be gentle. And sometimes we will fail, not because we weren’t doing the best we could, but because they were in a place where they couldn’t hear it. And sometimes we will not be gentle, because our communication is more about ourselves than about them. And sometimes we will forget or be melodramatic or insensitive. What we can know is our own motivation, and we are in charge of the way that we react to others. But none of this means that communication is easy. Or that we don’t bruise one another every now and then. Because we just can’t know. You can’t know where I am in any given moment, even though it would seem I post about so many aspects of my journey here, and I cannot know where you are. We know pieces of one another. What we choose to share. This is true with all people we know. We know pieces.

Part II

Because I edit from home, I am able to listen to music throughout my day. And with the nano Jon gave me for my birthday, this music becomes portable as I move around when needed. When I stop to think for a moment or take a break, I notice how the sound is so clear it is as though it is inside me.

My breaks today were filled with music that pulled me out of the leftover bits of melancholy.

First, I got in touch with my inner country girl. And, of course, this meant time with Kenny. If you ever want to virtually take a break and join me, just start singing “Ruby” along with Kenny Rogers (make sure you really get the “Ruuuuuuubbeeeeeeee” and then start shaking your hips when the music changes toward the end). Then follow that with “80 Proof Bottle of Tearstopper” by George Strait. “Get a little loose and lose her memory” is one of my favorite phrases to sing. Wrap your tongue around those l’s.

Then, this afternoon, when Marc Broussard started singing “Home,” I jumped up and went to find Jon, who was listening to his ipod in the other room, and insisted we synchronize and dance (which we did after several attempts to start the song at the same time). Anyone watching us would have wondered what the heck we were doing. This was too much fun. Seriously. Silly, hilarious, and romantic in its own way.

This evening, I pulled a stool up to our mirror in the hallway annd I settled in with the Indigo Girls singing Virginia Woolf. I just looked at myself, taking in the reactions as I listened to the music.
“When the river eclipsed your life. And sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me and it was my rebirth.”
This is the line. The reason why I keep listening to this song over and over. Tears fill my eyes each time I hear it.

Then I turned to Deb Talan to listen to “Ashes on Your Eyes” (click here to read the lyrics). About two lines in, I started singing out loud. I suddenly realized I was singing to myself. It was one of the sweetest moments I have ever had. And I was alone. Looking in the mirror. I was reminded of the realization I had last week. That my eyes, the eyes that were staring back at me, were the only eyes that would ever see what I have seen and what I will see. (I want to expand on this is another post later this week.)

And as the song finished, I went to get up, not really thinking about what the next song on the playlist would be. As Stephanie Dosen started singing “Brave” (you can hear it here), I just stopped. And started singing right to the mirror again. I scooted closer and just looked at my reflection. Singing the words. Soaking them into my skin and mind and into the space around my heart. (Thank you for sharing this song with me Meg.)

And as I listened to her words, an idea for a series poem came to me; I think the poem below might be the first part of that series.

Part III

The Sunday before the Wednesday I was to see you
the conversation played
on a stage in my mind.
Knowing you would pretend to be irritated that
I had flown across the country unannounced
because you did not
want me to see you like this,
I would pull the chair next to your bed,
see your emaciated body,
and my hand would brush
away the hair around your face
like I did twenty-five years ago
right before I would smear Pond’s cold cream
across your nose, cheeks, and forehead.
I would tell you that I finally understood.

But then you died on Tuesday.

In their need for reason,
people said you chose to die
the Tuesday before the Wednesday I was to see you
because you knew I was coming and
you wouldn’t have
wanted me to see you like that.
Infuriated, I turned my back
on the words that meant nothing
to the open wound you left behind
that people saw as me, and
I sat in the darkness,
my throat choked with silence,
my fingertips filled with regret that I
did not brush your hair away
from your face when I saw you on
the morning of the Thursday after the Wednesday I was to see you,
when I heard your voice say,
“It isn’t me.”

(read other poems, some also with the theme of unfinished conversations, at poetry thursday)

enclosed in my body week 2 {self-portrait challenge}

Today, I again feel like my body is enclosed in itself. My back pain is getting a little better each day, but today it is this constant dull ache. Yesterday, there was really no pain and I felt so free.

This morning, I went to the doctor because the ER insisted I have a follow-up with my primary care physician (even though I had never met him, he has been my PCP for two years—gotta love health care in this country). I wanted a referral for an acupuncturist, which I will receive after I pick one from a list of 10 not knowing anything about any of them.

The doctor acted like he wasn’t really sure why I was there and didn’t really know what he could do to help me. He dismissed what my yoga teacher (who was a PT before teaching yoga) and I thought about it being SI pain, thinking I was trying to diagnose myself with something called Piriformis Syndrome that I had never even heard of until today. He acted like doctors in the “know” don’t believe in it, which was fine by me since I had never heard of it but have to admit I wonder if it might be what is going on because of where the pain is. Anyway, after being treated like I didn’t really know my own body and that my yoga teacher doesn’t know anything (he didn’t give me a chance to explain that she knows EVERYTHING and that doctors in Seattle send their patients to her and that she was actually part of a health study done by my health insurance, the one that pays his bills because it is actually a healthcare network that he is a part of—the recent one in publication in papers across the country about how back pain is decreased by practicing yoga, especially viniyoga), he sat down and started typing all the information in the computer like they do now. Even though I wasn’t asked if I had any questions, I took that opportunity to ask if he thought this was something that would continue throughout my life or if stretches and taking care of myself would help me to avoid it. I guess I already knew the answer that one really can’t know and that stretching and keeping the body flexible is important because of our sedentary society and blah, blah, blah. But then he threw this one in “and maintaining proper body weight to avoid pressure on the back.”

And that was when the little tears that have been threatening to fall for the last six hours started to pinprick on the back of my eyeballs. He kept talking about other things and how he thought I would be fine based on how the pain had already significantly decreased, my desire to get better, and so on. He didn’t explain if he meant “lose weight you big tub” or if he just meant to keep that in mind. He, having never seen me before, didn’t take the time to notice that since I had my last appointment for my annual exam I had lost eight pounds. No. He just threw that little comment out into the world for my ears to hear and my heart to absorb.

So today, I am struggling with looking at any picture of myself, trying to crop out any bit of fat arm, yet forcing myself to look at the double chin that is a part of me. I can’t imagine how I will face the mirror to reflect on it all unless I actually allow myself to have the “sob fest” that is sitting on my heart, threatening to burst open at any minute.

This feeling of being trapped, enclosed in my body is about more than just my back pain this week. It is about all that “stuff” that sits inside my heart. That stuff about how I look and how much I weigh and how it feels to know that losing weight would be better for my health, my self esteem, my heart, my soul. That stuff that invites a feeling of emptiness around the heart instead of the understanding that the emptiness is space waiting to be filled with joy.

I am sure he is a fine doctor. And I know I am one of many patients. I just wish people would take the time to remember they are talking to a person. A person with feelings and a heart who is sitting in a robe feeling vulnerable and scared. A person who has to leave that little examine room and carry on with the tiny pieces of information shared in the least amount of time possible. That person. Today. That person was me.

see more self-portraits here.

finding the joy {a meditation}

At the end of this post there is a meditation...
but a couple of other things first.

Thank you all for your kind comments about my Sunday Scribblings post. Your words fill my heart. I am so grateful that I can come here to this space and write and someone reads my words and a connection is made...
but I want to let you know that...

I do watch Project Runway, Survivor, and this last season of American Idol. My current favorite summer program is Entourage on HBO. Johnny Drama is the funniest character on television in my opinion.
I sometimes get really pissed off and say the worst kinds of words (my husband will nod his head when he reads this).
We subscribe to Entertainment Weekly and I often read it right before I go to sleep because I have found it helps me to avoid nightmares (and if you subscribe too, check out their article about Mr. Gibson this week...wow).
I recently spent way too much money on clothes and other stuff to try to measure up to my very cool, thin, beautiful friends.
I ate at McDonald's for dinner tonight. Ugh.
If I had to choose between a bowl of haagen daz ice cream and spending a day with a friend who only wants to talk about herself and not ask me how I am doing, I would choose the ice cream every time. (Wish someone would give me that choice sometimes.)

but I also...
Read poetry to feel grounded.
Organize my theology and philosophy and other spiritual books in a way that I hope the authors talk to one another while sitting on the shelf (I have probably already told you this but I have just moved a few and thought of it again). Maybe they will solve some of the world's problems and I will receive some of their energy.
Cry when my mom sends me a dishtowel she found that had a note attached to it from my grandmother to me. (Why is it that seeing the handwriting invites so much longing? Something tactile in front of you I guess.)
Am not talking about anyone who reads this blog in the ice cream comment. I am just sayin' some people suck the life out of you and ice cream, chocolate creamy ice cream, can simply be a better friend.
Believe blogging has reintroduced me to myself.
Drink daily mugs of woodsy green tea to feel a connection to the earth. 

*******

This is another meditation that could be used in conjunction with the daily mirror reflection some of us are participating in this month and next.

edited 1/24/11: There used to be an audio meditation here but the service I used to house the audio file no longer exists. The "space around your heart" (downloadable) audio meditation in the sidebar could be used with the mirror meditation I write about on my blog. You could keep your eyes open, looking in the mirror, during the meditation or you could do the meditation in front of the mirror with your eyes closed and then open then at the end, noticing how you feel.

i might have been... {sunday scribblings}

I might have been someone who watched television for hours each night, keeping a distance from the reality of her life while zoning out into the “reality” of the lives of others. Someone who would, every now and then, glance at the theology and philosophy books on her bookshelves and remember a time when there was a hunger to learn. I might have been someone who thought it would be easier to let go of needing friends in a new place. I might have been someone who avoided mirrors because she did not want to notice her body, her face, her soul. I might have been someone who never told her husband the truth of her needs and wants and desires. Someone who always said “yes” when she meant “no” and “I’m okay” when she meant “I am drowning.” I might have been someone who jumped up whenever the phone rang because she knew someone would need her because someone always needs her to solve their problems. I might have been someone who forgot to let people know when she needs support. Someone who spent a lot of time giving and receiving mostly guilt. Someone who ached inside but chose to ignore the pain.

I might have been someone who forgot herself.

Someone who one day would look in the mirror and resent all that had happened in her life. Resent the life she didn’t choose. Someone who chose what seemed like an easier path and allowed herself to get caught up in all of the distractions that life in this time and in this place can offer. Someone who chose sleep over wide open eyes.

I might have been someone who was so weighed down by baggage that the little girl inside her went to sleep for so long she never woke up.

But something intervened and shifted everything.

In one uncontrollable moment, my heart was broken. The sadness this caused, the waves of grief and the wonder that I could feel such pain invited this little girl inside me to awaken. As I started noticing her, she started singing. She reminded me of dreams and desires and hopes and beliefs. She sang of possibility. And as I listened to her, I knew I had only one choice. To live in my life.

And I began to live in my life by healing my heart.

During the last year, I have begun to heal by finding the creative in my life and challenging myself. Painting and writing and chanting and teaching yoga and sewing. Long conversations with friends about “real” things in life and learning from one another. Being validated and reminded I am not alone in this blog world. Erasing the lines of safety I drew around myself for protection and jumping into new adventures.

This little girl who sings to me about truth and possibility has saved me. This little girl, who is really me.

I am someone who has realized that I choose in every single moment of my life. What to say, how to react, the next step, these are all choices I can make. And even though I do sometimes need to sleep in a bit, when I am a bit exhausted from it all, I know that living, truly living in my life is the only path for me.

(read more sunday scribblings here)

show and tell

this past year, i have been finding the little creative girl that lives inside me. and i am having so much fun! now that i have a sewing machine i have a new found LOVE of fabric. i mean really, who knew there was so many wonderful patterns out there?

i am excited because the ArtFest brochure is out. as i looked through the workshops and talked to a friend on the phone about it today, i realized that creating a schedule that includes time for creating is really important to me.

in the spirit of ArtFest, i also want to share that Kelly has opened up an etsy shop! (finally!) go check it out and show her some love. she is selling her originals and a little bird told me that she is going to have some prints up for sale soon!

also, i just learned that another ArtFest friend has started a blog and she will be teaching at ArtFest as well. check out Tracie Lyn Huskamp's blog and her art. i bought one of her pieces at vendor night and i enjoy looking at it every single day. it reminds me of what is important in life...home...friends...love.

here are pictures of the purses i have been making with my new sewing machine. (forgive the lighting...i finished the last one this evening and just wanted to finally share them. if you click on them you can learn a little more info and see a bit more detail.)

hope you are feeling some creative energy this weekend.
(and the computer is still sick. but i have installed the camera software onto my laptop. and i will be backing up pictures from now on. i promise.)