Namaste

"The divine spark in my soul honors the divine in yours."

Seventeen days into the new year and I can count how many times I've laced up my running shoes to pound the pavement or go round and round on the treadmill.

Sure, sure.

I could blame it on the stomach flu, the arctic fucking tundra that has given us two snow days, the pitch black mornings, the new course I'm teaching, the busyness of my three children...but really, honestly, truly...

I haven't wanted to.

I keep trading my sneakers for my Mala beads and mat and find myself in the yoga studio instead.

I don't know why. 

Frequently, when I arrive, I'm agitated.  I wonder if spending 60 or 90-minutes will be worth it.  I stress when I slip my socks off to share my calloused feet, pull my roomy shirt overhead to expose my winter white grandma arms and secure my Downward-Facing Dog--only to remember that oh yeah--I can't make my heels touch the ground or properly Chaturanga.

But I keep going.  And often, while I'm there, it's not fast enough or hard enough.  Those are reminders that my body does miss the adrenaline, heart pumping, sweat drenching feeling that running gives.  Sometimes, the instructor tells me too much about my body and I can't understand why my sit bones can't just sit wherever they land.  And then, there's often the gorgeous girl who came out of the womb as a California Malibu yogi and I am transported back to my reflection in the mirror...a middle aged, midwestern mama who is soft and often, insecure and yet, here I am.

I feel the strongest when I sweep my arms up and over my head, into prayer position, eyes closed, breath in and out, mind cleared of clutter {for the briefest of brief} moments and I see {not in the mirror} the woman I know myself to be.

Bright, brilliant, beautiful.

And in that moment, it dawns on me that my mantra for this space {certainly, we're far past New Year's resolutions}, but maybe just for the space of today and at least tomorrow, is:

Open
Alive
Free

Because that's what I want...the chance for my heart to be open to the possibility of what can and will be...to feel more alive and vibrant...so that I can be free of all the tricks my mind plays like who I'm not or where I lack.

I'm still resolute to getting my running shoes back where they belong and my playlist revamped, but I'm also committed to lots of Namaste in the new year.  It just feels really good.

Reach Just a Little...Higher

"The greatest danger for

most of us is not that our

aim is too high and we

miss it, but that it is too

low and we reach it."

--Michelangelo Buonarroti

My children are far brighter than I am.  It's not an exaggeration.  

They are engaging far more challenging math equations than I ever did as a 7th grader...

reading interesting material more voraciously than I do today...

re-purposing all kinds of shit into doll clothes, textured prints, canvas paintings, and Harry Potter cloakes with infinite detail and consideration...

and they bake, yummy scones, homemade cinnamon rolls, chocolate cake and apple pie.

And to their credit, I expect a lot, particularly spiritually and academically.

I demand a heart of service and a mind that is expanded to its full potential.  Because really, at the end of the day, those are their only two jobs.  Be kind to those you encounter.  Give back.  And, stay infinitely curious, while you apply yourself rigorously.

Like me, my oldest is a little lazy.

He likes to take the slow road to the races.

Procrastination is far more fun than adhering to a plan.  He's used to pulling it out in the 11th hour and getting the gold star.

And also like me, he tends to be a perfectionist.  He won't go for it, unless he's going to nail it.  And many times, I have to encourage him (and vicariously myself) to set the bar higher, because he struggles to believe in his potential.

But the problem is that when we set the bar to where we know we can go, we never see where we might soar to, even when, especially when, we fail.

And so, it was with the gnashing of the teeth that I told my son to go back to the drawing board with his homework writing.  "With all of the love in my heart, I'm telling you that you can do better.  Spend more time.  Give thought to what you're trying to convey.  Provide the reader with examples they can see or feel.  Don't be afraid to put your voice on the paper."

We want so much for our children.  Often, more than we want for ourselves.  But this encounter reminded me that we can all stand to reach just a little higher, for the good of our own being and the world at large. 

I Don't Know

In a fit of hysteria, my youngest came bounding up the stairs and demanded, "Where is my sketch pad?"

Exasperatedly, I replied, "I don't know."

That's when she said, "Yes, you do.  You just had it."

And I realized that I harbor so much shit in my brain, it's astounding, really. 

Groceries in the fridge, groceries needed.  Field trip forms.  Homework assignments.  Projects on the horizon.  Class syllabi.  Students who are managing and those who are not.  Birthdays.  Thank yous.  Electric bills.  Oil change appointments.  Speech team practices and competitions.  When to pick up my parents from the airport.  Haircuts.  Lunch account balances.  Clothes in the washer.  Socks that need to be put away.  Ballet winter break dates.  Piano lessons. 

Sometimes, being the keeper of all of that craziness makes me feel important, in high demand, wanted, needed, purposeful.

And then other times, mostly at the same times, it makes me really, really tired.

And that's when I want to say and think we all should say, "I don't know."

Or, better yet, "Go figure it out yourself."  Not exclusively to our family members, but also to our colleagues, our neighbors, and the ones we volunteer with.

How wonderful would it be to just be bored.  To not be filled with a bunch of who, what, where, when and why's, but rather space, to just dream and wonder and not know a whole lot of anything.  It sounds like peace.

Being "in the know" is mighty nice, but it's also excrutiatingly exhausting and does not make one a martyr.  It just makes you mostly scatter brained.

Derailed, Temporarily

I woke up to the stomach flu.

And to the visceral reality that I was down for the day.

In case you haven't succumbed to the shit-tay bug in sometime, let me remind you that it wreaks a suckage you conveniently forgot about since the last time you fell victim.

You lay in your bed, dehydrated, looking at the wall, lamenting the million things you could be doing, bemoaning why even reading or watching movies hurts.  Realizing this isn't a freebie.  Today, you're paying a price.

Cold.

And then, hot.

You close your eyes and remind yourself that this is the last day of Christmas break and that your kids have THINGS that need to get done before tomorrow morning at 7am.

You stand in gratitude for a husband who takes the day off of work to keep the home fires burning and the buttered toast at bay.

And then it hits you, ah yes, it's officially January 2nd and there is no way that you will be running anywhere on the second day of the new year, except to the toilet.

Is this a sign?  Are you fucked?  Time to throw in the towel?

One big God fucking damn it will have to suffice and then, you roll over to weather the storm.

And, in some respects, I'm glad this came now.  It reminds me that life is real.  Much of it is out of our control.  But gentle or sometimes explosive, violent intestinal episodes remind us that in order to carry out our promises, we have to be willing to adapt, to stand firm, and to trust that this is a temporary derailment, at best.

And so, to the negative temperatures I say, pack up, we're done with you.  To the yuck gut bomb that lives inside me, I cry out, "vacate."  And to my heart and mind that are resolute to take good care of me this new year, I say, "fear not."  This too shall pass.

To Commit

On New Year's Eve, my twelve-year old son, Sam and I had a dialogue about resolutions.

He pondered,

"Why do people drive themselves crazy resolving to do something that they're not really going to carry out?"

"This is indeed the question," I replied.  "I guess, they view the start of the year as a new opportunity.  A time to try again or to begin something that they want to change in their lives."

"Yeah, but, if they really meant it, they wouldn't need to wait until tomorrow.  They'd just do it," he retorted.

And then, we talked about the difference between committing to something and just doing it when you feel like it.  I told him that when you make a real commitment, you've put your word, your integrity, your pledge behind it.  And your word needs to stand for something.  This is why we make a commitment to a marriage or a job or being a parent or doing a science paper or participating on a speech team.  Committing to another person or activity means that you'll show up, even when, sometimes, especially when, you don't want to or you don't feel like it.

He explained that many of his commitments are involuntary.  He never asked to memorize 26 countries of the Middle East by Friday.  He preferred to label that an obligation with an expectation of doing well versus a commitment.  I told him that as a member of the family, he had an internal commitment to be a strong student and to try his best.  And that ultimately, studying for his Geography test over break, even though it was involuntarily forced upon him, would create a habit of discipline and follow-through that would serve him well.

He said, "Do you always want to run?"

"Hell no...especially when it's cold or I'm tired or my legs hurt or I'm mad or I'm sick of my play list or I just don't have it in me or I have 5 million other things that would be way more fun or...you get it," I said.

Commitment is about doing it regardless of feeling.

Which in and of itself is a bitch.  But we also recognize over the long haul that most of our commitments have served us well.  They've honed, refined, sharpened us in ways we didn't appreciate in the moment, but are grateful for now.

Here's to the commitments we're making in 2018, may we reflect on the back breaking frustration, knowing that the work, day over day, made us better.