A Sexy Moment

June 7, 2015

In her book, Thinking About Memoir, Abigail Thomas has a chapter called The Habit of Writing. She says, “A lot of writing consists of waiting around for the aquarium to settle so you can see the fish. Walking around muttering seems to hasten the process. Taking public transportation nowhere helps.”

            

I don’t have a fish tank, but I do mutter and wander. Often while driving, stories and memories rush through me. No radio, trees flashing by. I lean precariously on the dashboard with a pen and scrap of paper, stenographer of my life, trying to get them down before everything slips away.

The other day I was at the dentist. It was seven o'clock in the morning. I thought that was too early to get my teeth cleaned. The office had the news going which always gets me stirred up. The magazines had pictures of women in bikinis which stirs me too. Why do I want to see Gwyneth Paltrow in a white bikini with leather straps on the side? Doesn't the water make a mess of that leather? I was getting my teeth cleaned and then had to go to school to be with first graders for the day. That stirred me up too. I'm like a good cup of coffee. I get stirred easily which is one of the reasons why I write. 

After the dentist, I wrote this on a scrap of paper.

Lee is my teeth cleaner.

She said, you have a cool life.
She loves red wine.
Her husband gets her a case of Malbec for Christmas every year.
Lee has three kids. 

That's one if the reasons her husband gets her a case of wine. 

Can you tell which one is me?

Some days I don't want to be in school where kids have to stay in a line and find the text evidence in the passage they just read. Do you know what that means? But it's not all bad. There's always some sweet kid who draws me a picture to take home to put on my fridge. Wouldn't it be great if people did that in the workplace? 

Here Bill, drew you this picture. 

Hey Annette, I drew this picture of us! 
Jean, whaddya think of my dog?

Some days I want to be a famous writer giving readings and throwing my head back in a witty laugh. [That is how they spend their days, right?]

Today I'm happy to be in my backyard with my plants and dog and trees swaying over my head. I had a sexy moment where I fixed my John Deere all by myself (the belt was off the looping thing). I took a victory lap around the yard and mowed some grass. I miss my husband who is in Los Angeles. I miss my father who is losing his bearings slowly and sometimes painfully. I miss my mother, dead for a dozen years. These things come over me and I don't feel so good. But then I fix my lawn mower or talk to a friend on the phone or see a Pileated Woodpecker fly over my head and land on the tree near the wood pile. 

Pileated Woodpeckers remind us to embrace our uniqueness. 

Pigs don't fly and famous writers are just like the rest of us, messy beauty and missing and ______. 

Today I will be happy with dog and trees and birds, plants, and daughters close by.

Happy even with my missing.

Mary Oliver got it right when she wrote:

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

xo b

Perhaps I Am A Bear

Perhaps I am a bear, 
or some hibernating animal underneath, 
for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me. 

-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I love nuts and berries and being buried in blankets, cozy and cave-like. In the book, The Medicine Wheel, Bear is my animal totem, my power animal, my spirit teacher. This is based on my birth month which is September. 

Thanks to the Medicine Wheel calendar, I'm not a Sturgeon. 

(I believe that's October.) 

I am a bear. I even kind of look like one. 

When the black bear walked by our back door I followed it. 
Through the yard, around trees, near the stone wall.
It turned to look at me. 
I said, hey and waved. 
Bear stared at me, then lumbered on.
I felt the connection.

My kids thought I was nuts. Barefoot mom runs after bear. 
Why? Why must you do that?
Because I'm a bear. Get over it.

Owen portraying me as a bear.

It's been a long winter. (Understatement)

Like weary animals, Bostonians are just peeking out of their homes today, right on time for the Spring Equinox and another snow storm? We didn't get Boston kind of snow. We got enough. Enough to keep us home from school, at least once a week for two months. This only reinforced my bear-behavior. 

 books

 bed

 blankets
 wine (not in bed!)

 window to see the world outside

+tea

= Bear cave

I shoveled, went sledding. Got milk. How else would Claire eat her cereal? When there weren't snow days, I did work. Because I work in two schools with young children, I now shout in my sleep -

sneeze into your damn elbow! 

(Home today because somebody didn't sneeze into their elbow. Jaden? Violet? Chris?)

In January, I accidentally joined a cross fit gym. They call it the box. After school I'd go do 80 burpees, throw a medicine ball at the wall, lift 55 lbs in power snatches - okay, it was 35 lbs. 

But what about that name, power snatch?

Between colds (this is my second), sneeze into your elbow, Claire's track schedule ( a totally bogus excuse to get out of burpees), and not being ready to give up my hibernation, I quit the box and bought myself a kettle bell. I've watched the video of how to use it and feel a little more toned already. 

So, life hasn't been complete bear bed rest.

And I've been writing, just not here. Not to say I haven't missed you. I have. You know when you're out of touch for so long, it's embarrassing to say, hey, I'm still here. Because people move on if you sleep too long. 

Hey, I'm still here. Hoping you're still here too.

xo 

b

Exhale The Goldfish

our christmas tree. 2014

Does this happen to you 

where you decide upon opening your eyes, to have a good day, a non-worry day, to practice acceptance and kindness towards yourself and others, especially others, like your partner, or maybe the family dog-

You get up early, make a cup of hot tea, pull out your journal. You even go so far as to roll out the green yoga mat on the rug and sit with eyes open, staring out into the back yard, morning sun drifting over everything. You do some down dogs, a pigeon, and slide back into child's pose and rest your forehead on the ground. 

Breathe - 

That's when you notice the one orange goldfish (as in Pepperidge Farm) swimming in a sea of dust under the television stand. You remember the Strategies for Acceptance podcast you listened to last night and inhale, everything is, exhale, as it should be ~

( you may need to do this multiple times to access your acceptance button)

You exhale the goldfish and go take a shower. So lovely until you step out and notice the puddle of water against the wall, on the outside of the shower. You wipe up water muttering, things are really breaking down around here. Fresh and clean you spot the old cat's litter box which you should've dealt with prior to showering. This brings up the question you've been wrestling with " Is it time to put my old boy to sleep?" since old boy is slowly failing in the bladder department. He's seventeen, for God's sake. You see him curled on the bed, sleeping like an angel cat and say, 

"Not today. I can't do it today."

Anyway, things are going like that and then you stop, just stop, and stand very still. You feel your feet on the ground and the breath in your body and then watch the rattling train of thoughts clattering around in your head go straight off the cliff, one car at a time - 

clatter clatter clatter

like in a cartoon
with Wile E. Coyote, 
stars and moons swirling 
around his head. 

xo b

May We Remember This

Dear Ones,

I've been gone so long! Oh my. I miss you. 

A very busy girl, 

teaching 
writing a book (woo hoo!)
tending to family, Dad, home, snowy driveways,
and myself?


just when it's time for this bear to go into hibernation. 

I shall return with a This Being Alive update, soon.

Offering up my mother's Thanksgiving prayer ~ oh how I miss her.

Thanksgiving Prayer

We come to this table today, 

humble and thankful and glad.

We are thankful first for the great miracle of life, 

for the exaltation of being human, for the capacity to love.

We are thankful for joys both great and simple-

For wonder, dreams and hope;

For the newness of each day;

For laughter and song and a merry heart;

For compassion waiting within to be kindled;

For the forbearance of friends and the smile of a stranger;

For the arching of the earth and trees and heavens and the fruit of all three;

For the wisdom of the old;

For the courage of the young;

For the promise of the child;

For the strength that comes when needed;

For this family united here today.

Of those to whom much is given, much is required.  

May we and our children remember this.

amen

Any Place Will Do

October 6. 2014

You can transform any situation by bombarding it with compassion. 
Make sure you include yourself, and you can always do this. 

- Martha Beck


While leaving to take Claire to the bus stop this morning, Jesse shouted down the stairs. 

Make it a great day! 

Claire in her low-key teenage voice said, Yea, best day of my life, um.

I chimed in, Well, you never know...

Claire said, Mom, I know.

Heading off to high school at 6:45 on a Monday morning is not the best day of your life, even if you're homecoming queen or valedictorian or a cheery member of the cheer squad. Claire's right. Um. Mom, trust me, I know. What struck me is how in our have the best day, live your best life, go go go culture, I can feel like a total slacker if I have just a good day. Or an okay day. If I sink to a low day, the slippery slope of autumnal sadness, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, hell. That really worries me because that's a best day of my life I've screwed up, not taken advantage of, blown. 

That's crazy thinking. You can't blow a day.

The steady drum of anxiety pumping in the air that says, not good enough not good enough is hard to miss. If you're on the sensitive side, you may be walking around wondering why you haven't made the pumpkin walnut muffins this morning before work, (and after your thirty minute yoga practice).  Or checked your 401K portfolio to make sure you're on track for retirement because the commercial asks the question, Are you going to outlive your money? I don't even know how to answer that question. It makes me breathless and light-headed. 

Just for today, lie down for five minutes and breathe into your ordinary, good enough, beautiful, best messy life. I like stretching out in the road in front of my house, when the sun has heated up the concrete. (palms up, open to receive. ah.)

Bed, living room floor, your classroom, office. Or don't lie down. Sit in a chair, on a subway. You can be walking, jogging, food shopping, banking, having dental work ~ 

Any place will do.

bombard yourself with compassion. 

namaste,

xo b

More Of The World

September 21. 2014

It's been a stellar day.

I had the joy of leading a yoga/writing retreat early this morning. It's an irreverent group of women which is why I love them. We laugh a lot. One woman came up to me afterwards and said, I'm glad I took this. I thought we might be standing in tree pose and writing at the same time. I said, That might be fun. Might have to try it. At the end, I read this little ditty written by a second grader named Jason, from 1997.

It goes like this: (I am writing it the way he did)

When I grow up I want to be a travler Because I want to see more of the world and icsplore unkone placece that I never seen in my life. and read thigs I have never red before. But I will go see anchint things to. Then go check out museums then climb the steepest monten.

Really there's nothing else to say after that. Jason nailed it for me. 

Joy in what we do is not an added feature; it's a sign of deep health. - Mark Nepo

I thought about that, or rather felt it in my whole being this morning. I got to do my favorite things. 

downward dogs 
writing 

talking (can't shut a preacher's kid up)

telling stories 

telling jokes

listening to people read their stuff

I want this kind of work all the time.  Joyful work. And I want to be a travler. And I want to tell you how I read a memoir called A Year Without Sugar recently and then the very next day met my friend Jane for tea at Wegman's where I ate a carrot muffin + a sticky bun all in one sitting; clearly a defiant move on my part. These things happen. 

After the yoga Claire and I went to Starbucks to people watch. She was concerned about me bringing a blueberry muffin (that I'd taken from the retreat!) into Starbucks. What? I'm Scottish.

Is that too weird, I asked.
Well, maybe just a little odd.

I left the muffin wrapped in a napkin in my backpack. (I bought a carrot muffin inside.) 

At home, I moved ten wheelbarrow-fuls of old red bricks from one part of my yard to another. Who needs to join a gym + Why not? I cleaned out more garden beds which is way cheaper than a therapist. Claire drove our old blue truck down to the lake in our little neighborhood and I jumped in the lake.


as in, go jump in a lake!

This was joyful too. Really joyful.

All to say, because I have a propensity for autumnal melancholy, I am doing what I can to wake up my joy self. It's easy to be Henny Penny running around my yard worried about all kinds of stuff; shooters on the loose, aging, the mortgage, what to eat for dinner.

Just for today I say, No Henny. Take a break. Breath.

Like Jason, I want to see more of the world and icsplore unkone placece that I never seen in my life. Even when I feel like a hot mess, or confused or uncertain - all that stuff, I am claiming this little quote that I found for my birthday mantra (that was a few weeks ago, yea! September) -

you are the laboratory and every day is an experiment.
go and find what is new and unexpected. 

- joel elkes

Love you, lovelies. 

pass this on.

namaste.
xo b

Have Mercy

September 5. 2014

This little guy is on top of the world, taking the hawk's eye view of things. Or toad's eye.

My perspective is somewhat larger but in the scheme of things, not by much. I'm thinking about how we walk around holding tight to our view of things and how we fit into the world, when if you took a step right or left, forward or back, change happens. It'll change something. Most of us don't do that until something jars us, something wonderful or not so wonderful wakes us up.

I bumped into an acquaintance at the local Panera this morning. I had a meeting. She was on the fly to a Weight Watcher's meeting after having just weighed in earlier. This is how the conversation went:

Hi
Hi
How are you?
I just went to a Weight Watcher's meeting. I hate myself.
Don't say that.
I haven't weighed this much ever. I think I need a bagel. I hate myself.
Whoa! You hate yourself?

This lovely person was swirling in this Brutal Vision of herself. Warped? But it was a mirror moment because, like many humans, I have a brutal-meister who beats me up, down. If I'm off center, tired, uncertain, __________, if my perspective needs tweaking but I haven't taken the steps...

forward
back
right 
left
do the hokey-fucking pokey, but for God's sake turn yourself around!

it's a whipping post when the nasty voice kicks in.

We need each other...

To flip the switch, spin us around, tell a different story, help us see the world and ourselves from a different vantage point.  My bagel-hungry friend was beating the shit out of herself for a number on the scale.

If it's not the scale, it's our age, or income, or zipcode. Something.

I helped a little. She bought yogurt instead of the bagel. She said she was happy she ran into me. She said it was like talking somebody out of going into the liquor store. It's all the same stuff, people. But here's the thing: I was happy to run into her too. My voice(s) were rolling this morning.

have mercy on yourself I told her.

We hugged and said our goodbyes. She left with a yogurt. I left lifted by my own message.

It's a simple one, This Being Alivers. It just takes doing, again and again.

Do the hokey pokey, turn yourself around.
Find a new way to look at yourself, an issue, a worry.
Look someone else in the eye and say, have mercy on yourself.

then take some for yourself too, amen.

xo b